Mikos Mountain

This is my entry for the 2019 Literotica Winter Holidays contest. During my time in Pennsylvania, I knew many police officers, nurses and emergency services personnel; this story is respectfully dedicated to them, and their comrades throughout the world.

Happy holidays, dear readers, and enjoy the contest entries!

**

Now

As we hiked up the concrete path at our favorite state park, the remains of an early snow lay around us, softening the jagged grey and brown edges of winter. I breathed in the crisp, cold air and enjoyed the sense of my heart pounding and my legs tightening and releasing as we walked. My outdoor gear marked me for a modern man, but the soul inside all that technology was pure primate. On a whim, I beat my chest and roared. Verity whirled, wondering what in the world I had gotten up to now.

Witnessing my breast-beating glory, she rolled her eyes. "My dad always said you were nothing but a big ape, and I defended you -- and this is how you repay me?"

"Me ape man. You ape woman. Is good!"

She stopped and put her hands on her hips, regarding me.

"You're practically a Wookie. Or maybe Bigfoot."

I shook my head. I had taken my hat off about 15 minutes into our walk, and a sudden gust of wind blew my hair everywhere. I sighed. I had thought about tying it back, now that it's long enough, but it does help keep my neck warm -- when there's no wind.

"Bigfoots -- bigfeet? -- Wookies don't have gray hair," I pointed out.

"And their women are the sadder for it." She reached up to pat my hair back into place. "Your hair is gorgeous. I'm so glad you're growing it out."

"Yeah right. I can hardly keep the ladies from pouncing on me and running their hands through my flowing silver locks."

She gave my face a gentle slap.

"Shut up," she said placidly. "For one thing, the ladies are constantly checking you out. For another, so are the men. I'm just lucky you're the faithful type."

I bent down to kiss my wife, thankful that I didn't did have to go very far. I'm six-five, but Verity tops six feet herself. Her height is one of many things that attracted me to her -- along with her cushiony curves and endless intelligence.

Her eyes closed as our lips met and she hummed with pleasure as we paused to neck at a scenic lookout. We parted at the sound of approaching footsteps, and saw a young girl and a man with a walking stick coming towards us.

As they drew near, I noticed the kid seemed ... droopy. Normally a teenager on a crisp winter day is either running around and taking selfies with every other tree or bitterly complaining about the cold, but this one barely had her eyes open. Beside me, Verity inhaled sharply.

"Hello," she called. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

For a split second, the man glared at her before giving her a big, fake smile. "Absolutely! We're having a daddy-daughter hike today to get outside and enjoy this beautiful weather. Aren't we, sweetheart?"

The kid looked at the ground. "Sure."

The single word seemed to dribble from her lips. The man continued to give us a line of bullshit about what a happy family they were, how they loved hiking here and knew every nook and cranny in the place. I left him to Verity and focused on the kid.

"You OK?" I asked quietly when the man, presumably her father, finally shut up.

She looked up into my face, her eyes bleary. Stoned, I thought, relegating the matter to the back of my mind. That had to be it.

"Yeah, fine."

The man transferred his walking stick to his other hand and put a possessive arm around her shoulders. "She's fine. Not that it's any of

your

business."

Without saying goodbye, they walked past us. We let them.

"Asshole," Verity said when they passed from our view.

"Prick," I added, and paused. "What did you think of the kid?"

"Stoned."

"Yeah. I thought so, too."

I grabbed her hand and we resumed our walk.

"Weird place to bring someone to sober up, though," she said after a couple of minutes.

"Maybe he thought the fresh air would do her good."

"Maybe." She let go of my hand as we came to narrow spot and took the lead while I enjoyed the view. After a month apart, everything seemed fresh and new again, and I hummed with anticipation.

"Nice ass," I said, reaching forward to caress it.

"Ape! Aren't you tired after this morning?"

"That little romp? It takes more than a quickie to wear me out, woman. You should know that."

I smiled, replaying it in my head. I had been downstairs, drinking coffee and proofreading my galleys, a suitable task for a recently retired police chief but low on excitement.

"Miko! Where are you?" drifted down the stairs.

Exhausted after a month of nursing her sister and the flight home, she had been sleeping hard an hour before. I considered the tone behind the words. Not exasperated. Not angry. Definitely

not

tired. Mostly ... playful, tinged with urgency. I grinned and put down my work. The galleys for

New

Techniques of Crime Scene Investigation

could wait. I hated editing in the morning anyway.

"Coming!"

I bounded up the stairs -- well, as much as a man in his 50s is ever going to bound -- and rounded the corner into our bedroom. Verity lay on our bed, long hair fanned out on the pillow, one knee bent, the other leg straight, arms outstretched, chest and belly rising and falling as she turned her head to look at me.

There's simply nothing in this world more beautiful than the sight of my wife, naked and smiling and urging me to come and get her. She's been doing it for nearly 20 years, and God help me, every time she does, I feel like a schoolboy with his first crush.

My jeans hit the floor and her smile broadened.

"Already a wet spot," she remarked, raising one elegant eyebrow as she eyed my thin briefs. "I do believe that's a record."

"Let's see if we can set any more records. Or make any more wet spots." I shimmied out of the briefs, my cock bobbing as the elastic tugged, then released, it. Her eyes widened. Edging to the bed, I sniffed.

"You started without me!"

She shrugged. "I wasn't sure, so I ran a few tests..." She shrieked as I dove onto the bed right next to her and grabbed her in a fierce embrace. Her breasts mashed up against my chest, warm and soft, as I wriggled to position myself in the delectable slit beneath her mound. Her juices flowed on me and I pulled my face back so I could look her in the eye. Not being a fool, I left my cock right where it was.

"You not only started without me, you finished without me?"

She smirked. "Only the appetizer, my love. You're my main course."

I dropped my head to her throat and growled. "I've got some nice hot meat for your entrée right here." One hand snaked down to grab my little head, already slick with precum, and I gently rubbed it back and forth on her clit. God, she was wet! My tip slipped and slid in her slit as I adjusted to her small, sensuous movements against my body. She moaned and closed her eyes, legs opening just a bit more as she abandoned herself to me. I pushed my tip back and down, into position, and she wiggled in preparation. Would I thrust in hard and take her, or would I ease in, gently filling her until tears of pleasure ran down into her ears? Both approaches had their advantages...

Some small tension in her body made my decision for me. A rapturous smile rewarded me as my cock slowly, gently, filled her completely. I stopped when my balls pressed up against her ass, relishing the hot, slick pressure down the length of my shaft. We both sighed, then giggled. My wife is not a small woman, but I am not a small man, either. We fit each other perfectly.

She opened her eyes, and as always, I lost myself for a moment in their warm amber gaze.

"Miko," she said quietly.

"Mmmm?"

"Fuck me. Now."

"It's been a month," I protested. "I won't last if we go too fast."

"Miko."

"Yes, dear?"

"Fuck me. Now."

I kissed her, nudged one leg out of the way and hunkered down for better leverage.

"Don't say I didn't warn you!"

I pulled out nearly all the way and plunged back in, taking her hard, making her mine, until my balls boiled and tightened and I had to fill her with more than just cock. My vision darkened and I bellowed as my soul seemed to squeeze through my opening and flow into her body. She pulled me to her as my climax ended and kissed me, knowing that once again, she had my heart, my body, and my love. In return, I had my Verity, my truth.

"You needed that," she said as I lay panting beside her.

I shook my head. "I needed

you

."

"When have you ever not needed me?" she teased.

"Never," I answered, dead serious, before nosing my way south to clean her up and make her sigh and shudder and shout the walls down.

**

Then

Sweat running down my forehead, I stood in front of the lieutenant, bored and numb. He looked me over once, noting my stained summer uniform, unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. He stood up, grabbed a few papers, and walked around his desk to me, stopping about a foot away and a foot down. Definitely in my space, if not my face. I'd have smirked at my own joke if I'd felt any interest in anything.

"Coleman," he said quietly.

"Sir?"

"You smell."

"Sir?" I could barely bring myself to care, but he seemed to require an answer.

"When's the last time you took a shower?"

I thought about it, but not too hard.

"Dunno. Maybe the weekend. Sir."

"Why aren't you showering?" His voice sounded gentler, but I had no intention of getting lured into his trap.

"Doesn't seem to matter, sir. The criminals don't care."

"True, but your colleagues do. No one wants to ride with you because you stink. And no one wants to work with you because they can't count on you."

"Hmm." I stifled the impulse to yawn.

"How are you liking your new place?"

My new place. He made it sound desirable, as if I had wanted to leave my wife and my son and my home while another man slid into the role that was rightfully mine.

"It's fine. Sir."

I stared ahead, not seeing his collection of patches from police departments around the United States and Canada.

"How's your little boy?"

Ouch. I felt that blade go in, but tried not to react.

"He's fine."

"And your love life?" he asked conversationally. "I heard you and Bailey had a thing going."

"Not anymore. She broke up with me."

"And Katie in the clerk's court?"

"Ditto."

Another impulse to yawn. This time, I gave in, not bothering to cover my mouth. The lieutenant's nose twitched and he stepped back.

"But I'm sure you're over it, right, Miko?"

"I'm fine."

"So your new place is fine, and Alex is fine, and you're fine too. How much are you drinking, Miko?"

Not enough

, I thought. "Some. I can handle it. Sir."

"Is that so?" He looked down at one of the papers. "Says here that Stambaugh had to throw a bucket of water on you to wake you up last night. He thought you were just sleeping on the job, but you wouldn't wake up."

I focused on his eyes, trying to care about what he was saying.

"Did he? I don't remember."

Lieutenant stepped close enough to kiss my badge. "Miko," he said, and I could hear the entreaty in his voice, even if I didn't care. "You're a good cop. Or you used to be a good cop. I remember you at the academy..."

I stood there, wishing for something to drink, as the lieutenant reminisced. We had been good friends once, but I'd cut that tie a few months ago, unable to bear his concern as my life fell apart. As I half-listened, my Glock felt solid on my hip and I almost smiled, thinking about all their faces in a few weeks, when they'd find my body in the park, assuming all went to plan. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wishing I weren't wearing my vest. Those things trap the heat, and I could feel the sweat prickling on my face. I started to raise a hand to wipe it off, then let it drop. What was the point?

In front of me, the lieutenant seemed to blur and he suddenly sounded very far away. And then I started falling, down and down and down. I didn't feel Stan's arms go around me as my knees buckled, didn't hear him shout for Miguel to call an ambulance, never saw the medics as they lifted me onto a litter and hauled me away.

Hospitals never really get dark at night, but I woke up in a twilight sort of place when I felt cool water being dabbed on my face and neck. A soft voice told me not to worry, I was safe, she was just giving me a much-needed little bath. Reassured, I went back to sleep, hoping never to wake up again.

No such luck. Some time later, I woke up with a pounding head and fierce thirst and groaned at the sunlight streaming through the blinds.

"Awake, are you?" a voice said. Definitely not the calm and comforting voice from the night before. This one sounded more like a young female Patton.

"Close the fucking blinds!"

"Magic word?"

"Fucking please fucking close the fucking blinds."

"I really shouldn't," she remarked, closing the blinds anyway. "Your behavior definitely should NOT be rewarded."

"Spare me the deportment lesson and give me some water. Please. I'm dying here."

"Deportment lesson? Fancy language for a drunk."

I opened one eye, then narrowed it at her.

"Can I maybe get someone nicer than you to be my nurse? 'Cause I don't want you to be the last person I see before I die."

She snorted, poured me a glass of water with a straw and handed it to me.

"You're not dying. You're drying. Totally different process, although it may not feel that way."

I took a pull on the straw, grateful as the cool water hit the roof of my mouth. "They teach you that little rhyme in Drying Out Drunks 101?"

She put her hands on her hips and met my gaze.

"For your information, Michael Coleman, I am the best nurse you could possibly have right now. I don't expect you to appreciate it at the moment, but you will, because you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together in the next month."

"Next month? That's bullshit. I'll be out of here in time for the weekend."

I drank some more water, wishing my head would stop throbbing and my hands would stop trembling.

"Good luck with that, Mr. Coleman. When you signed on to be a cop, you agreed to let them hospitalize you involuntarily if needed. And the review board didn't have one second's trouble signing that order yesterday."

I stared at her. "Yesterday? How'd they convene the board that fast?"

Her amber eyes met my own. "You collapsed two days ago, Mr. Coleman."

Stunned, I sank back into the mattress.

"Son of a bitch. Two days ago?"

"Yep. You're a very sick man, whether you want to believe it or not. Also, you won't be out in time for the weekend, because it

is

the weekend. Today is Saturday."

Placing the glass on the bedside table, I closed my eyes briefly. Two days! How had that happened? And dear God, what had I babbled about during my stay? I didn't remember a thing.

A beep sounded, and the blood pressure cuff on my arm inflated automatically. Despite myself, I jumped. She moved to me and patted my shoulder.

"It's going to do that every 30 minutes for a while longer. Mostly a precaution, but you were awfully dehydrated when you got here and that can cause arrhythmia. A cardiologist will examine you Monday."

"I haven't been taking good care of myself," I admitted, still dwelling on how in the world I could have been out for two days and not have died. It didn't seem fair, and a wave of anger crashed through me.

"We noticed," she replied dryly, staring at the monitor as numbers flashed up. "135 over 80. Still on the high side. Do you know what's normal for you?"

"Don't you have my records?"

"Yes, but I want to hear it from you. I'm still assessing your mental state."

"Poor you."

She laughed, a full-bodied and cheerful laugh, and the sound made me forget my problems for an instant. Sighing, I finally took a good look at young female Patton, a.k.a. Nurse Verity Clark.

She looked a lot like her laugh, shapely and full figured and, as far as I could tell from my bed, tall. Like, very tall. The question tumbled out before I could censor it.

"Six foot one," she said proudly.

"I'm six-five."

"How nice for you," she shot back. "What do our heights have to do with anything, anyway?"

"Come on. You know how it is. You walk into a room and everyone looks up at you, and you find yourself looking around, seeing if there's anyone else who's like you. I do it all the time."

She blinked, not conceding anything, and strode over to the computer to type. I watched, my interest piqued, taking in her fantastic ass -- plenty for a man to sink his teeth into there -- and her long black hair tied back in a businesslike French braid. Under the crappy institutional lighting, her skin could have been almost any shade, but it appeared to be a pale brown. Latina, maybe, or perhaps part Native American with those cheekbones. Even Italian or Greek. Hard to tell.

"Stop staring," she said, not turning around.

"I'm not."

"I can see your reflection in the paper towel dispenser, Sherlock. Put your tongue back in your mouth."

Moving my head, I saw she could do exactly that. I stuck out my tongue at her. She laughed again, amused at the little boy she'd been given to heal, before returning to her paperwork. Trying to be a little more subtle this time, I resumed checking her out and wondering how she'd look in a tight pair of jeans, or maybe just a hot pink thong, high heels and nothing else. Did she shave her pubic hair, I wondered, or did she let it grow wild? I found I didn't care. I just wanted her, naked, in my arms.

"Quit speculating," she said abruptly. "I'm not here to fulfill your sexy nurse fantasy."

I shivered. As a cop, you learn to shut out other people, yet this woman seemed to have a front-row seat to the workings of my mind.

"Am I that transparent?"

"You're a man, you're 36 years old, and you've just been pulled back from the brink of doing something stupid. Of course you're that transparent."

"What do you mean, pulled back from the brink?" I asked, suddenly wanting to pick another fight.

She tapped a few keys, and the computer screen blanked out. Crossing the room, she settled into the chair next to my bed.

"Gosh, but you're moody. I mean exactly what you think I mean."

"Sorry, Miss Marple, but I'm not that good. What

do

you mean?"

She caught my gaze and held it.

"I mean you were on your way to checking out, one way or another."

"Checking out?"

"Killing yourself, if you prefer."

"For someone who just met me, you know an awful damn lot."

"No need to yell."

"I'm not yelling!"

A passing orderly poked his head in. "Everything OK in there?"

"We're fine, Anton," she called, waving at him. "Thanks." She turned back to me.

"Sure, you're not upset at all, and you're so not yelling that someone felt the need to check up on us. Everything's hunky dory."

I stared at the floor.

"I just want to know one thing," she continued. "Do you want your life to end, or do you want the life you've been living to end?"

Startled, I looked up into those eyes, warm and amber. Time seemed to stop for a long moment, then I felt my face crumple. The next thing I knew, her arms were around me as I sobbed.

**

Now

"I need you always," I told her, stuffing snacks into my backpack for our hike. "Do you have the sleeping bag, or do you want me to carry it this time?"

Her hand found the exact spot on my back that I carry my tension and massaged it. I dropped everything to let her work her magic. "I need you too, you know. My life would have looked very different without you, sweet Miko."

Relaxing under her ministrations, I smiled, wondering if I really could still smell our scent on my face or if I was just imagining it. She adored it when I went down on her after coming inside her, and I loved doing it for her. The first time, I hadn't felt too sure about her request. But as I lapped up our juices and felt her spasm under my tongue, I had changed my mind. Now it was part of our ritual, and sex felt incomplete without it and the final deep kiss to share the last taste of our love.