"Derek, are you okay?"
"Derek? Derek? Do
you want me to call 911?" Greg's voice rose in panic.
managed to groan. His throat felt constricted and his balls
"Oh, my God. I am so sorrrrrrrry." Derek could hear
Greg starting to cry.
Well, that had been the idea, sort
Finally Derek was able to partially straighten up. My god it hurts,
The panicked call came again, "Derek? Oh God!". Derek looked
up at his partner
from his crouched position. Greg was a young, insecure man
and Derek knew he
needed to assure him he was alright. And he would,....
except right now ever
again having coherent speech seemed a dim
Derek glanced behind him seeing the flattened chair and
looked again toward his
brat. Tears were streaming down both their faces.
Greg still had his pants and
underwear around his ankles, the tails of his
shirt hanging down mid thigh.
Derek knew that Greg had a very reddened
backside beneath that shirt. They had
been nearly done when the chair had
collapsed. Greg had been occupied with
trying to breath and not cry and Derek
had been intent upon his task. There had
been no warning. It was as though
suddenly the chair had been made of balsa wood
and with an almighty crack
they felt themselves lurching toward the ground. He
had dropped the paddle
and had tried to grab Greg. Meanwhile, in his panic Greg
had tried to lever
himself up and out of Derek's lap. The point of leverage had
problem. Derek was going to be singing soprano for two weeks at least.
to self, he thought, next time use the couch.
Finally taking a deep
breath, once, twice and again, he looked up at his
distraught partner and
love of his life, and attempting a grin said, "Greg
honey, believe me when I
say, that hurt me more than it hurt you."