Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Not Done Yet - 23. Daylighting
Daylighting
When Jim and Carol left the house, Carol already had a plan. Jim took his time driving, while Carol called ahead.
“Hey John. Are you going to be home for the next hour?”
…
“Would you mind if Jim and I came by to talk about Casey?”
…
“No, it’s nothing any worse than what you already know. Maybe a little better, we don’t know.”
…
“OK, we can be there in fifteen minutes.”
Carol hung up, and the two shared a smile. A few minutes later, they pulled into the social worker’s driveway. John Weaver lived by himself just north of town, in a small log cabin built in the 1920s. He maintained it well, and almost his entire yard was full of edible plants. John always said if he didn’t like a good steak, he’d have no reason to buy groceries, and with two acres planted, he had plenty to share and trade with his neighbors. Aside from the driveway, the whole property was inside a six foot deer fence. Jim and Carol walked up to the gate, and found John waiting for them with three beers in hand. He passed two of them to Carol, and she gave one to Jim.
“Carol, I’m so glad you and Jim came over. I’ve got an extra case of amber ale just come into its own, and I was hoping to trade it for some eggs. Come sit down and try it, and tell me what you think.”
John led the way to a table and chairs under a young oak tree, and as the three sat and sipped the cold brew, they talked small talk, and gardening, and brewing.
Jim was relaxed in his chair, his baseball cap tilted back so his whole face was plain to see. “John, you brew the best ale I’ve ever had, and tell as good a story as I’ve ever heard, but we need to talk to you about something else.”
Carol leaned forward and rested her bottle on the table. “John, we want to adopt Casey. The father’s out of the picture, and the mother’s not capable or competent to step up. His half-sister says she loves him, but won’t even talk to him on the phone. You know how we feel about him, and you know how he’s changed since he’s been with us. Right now, we feel it’s critical that he understand just how much he’s wanted, and that he’s always got a place and a family.”
“Well, Carol, that just pleases me to no end. And I know how Casey would react – he’s as much as told me a time or two. He loves you to no end and idolizes Jim for some reason I can’t quite understand.” John winked slyly, stood up, and walked over to the porch to a cooler to pull out three more cold bottles. He brought them back to the table and opened them, placing two in front of Jim and Carol.
As he sat, he took a slow sip and rested the bottle on his thigh. “Adoption isn’t a problem as long as there are no living parents, but his mama’s still around, and she’s got a claim to the boy.”
“John, after we heard from the prison, I called to speak to Mrs. Donovan. Casey’s half-sister answered, and told me her mama couldn’t come to the phone, couldn’t talk. I figured that’s true enough, so I told her about Casey’s dad. She couldn’t care less about the man; she’s not his daughter, and only came back to her mama to take care of her. She doesn’t give a damn about Casey, either, though she won’t say as much. She didn’t even want to talk to him. I asked.”
“Well, if you want to adopt the boy, his mama’s got to surrender parental rights permanently. Or the court has to strip her of them, and that’s hard to do, unless there’s active abuse and the child is in danger. Is the mother mentally responsible, and would she agree to give him up?”
“John, we just don’t know.”
“Then it seems to me that’s your next step. Find out. It may be as simple as asking her to sign some papers. I’ve got the forms here to surrender parental rights. It’ll take her signature, a notary, and the signature of an officer of the court. I can sign for the court, since I’m his case worker.”
*
Back in Casey’s room, he wilted into James’ arms, clinging to his boyfriend’s waist. James stood, holding him, slowly rubbing his back. He cleared his throat. Casey drew back, his eyes red. “I’m sorry, babe.”
James laid his hand on Casey’s neck and squeezed. He took the other’s hands and drew him back to the bed, sat, and pulled Casey down beside him. “Come lay down. Just let go for a few minutes. Accept that your nightmares can never come true. Not anymore. You’ve carried this with you way too long.”
They lay back on the pillows, Casey in his boyfriend’s arms, and the tension he hadn’t recognized he was holding slowly drained out of him. Slowly and softly, James began to hum, then sing. It was the song Jessie had sung to him months ago. He had made his mom teach it to him. He sang from his soul, telling Casey he was loved, and accepted, and safe.
He held Casey close and gently kissed the top of his head, while Casey clasped James’ hands in his own. He took in and let out three deep breaths, and turned to face the young man holding him. He brushed James’ soft lips with his own, and felt his and James’ hardness, but neither moved for several minutes, letting their storms pass, and slowly slipped into sleep in each other’s arms.
Casey awoke to a sense of utter peace, feeling like he was exactly where he belonged. Brown eyes met his gaze, full of love. He unfastened the buttons on James’ shirt and slid his hand against the warmth within, tracing the abs, on the verge of tickling. He kissed James’ chest and licked a nipple, then sucked it and licked around the hardening nub. He admired the pec as it tensed in response. Lowering his hand, he unbuckled James’ belt and slid it through the loops, setting it down by the bedside, behind him. Their eyes locked as Casey unbuttoned and unzipped the khakis, reaching in to cup and caress the firming flesh inside. Then Casey sat up to unbutton and remove his own shirt, while brown eyes stared at him, smoldering. He undid his belt and opened his black jeans to slide them down his legs, freeing his hardness, so it slapped against his belly. Now naked, his fingers slid inside the waistband of James’ briefs and peeled them and the khakis down over James’ hips. He gasped when James’ excitement was bared, and slid the cloth farther down and off his lover’s legs.
Casey opened the bedside table drawer and withdrew a tube of lubricant. He squeezed some out and took James in hand, slowly stroking up and down, spreading the slippery warmth around, before he rose and straddled his lover. He lowered himself, through the pain and past it, never taking his eyes off James’ face. Fully seated, he gasped when James flexed. Bending down to kiss, their lips met, their tongues danced. James’ hands roamed freely, caressing, pressing, stroking, grasping Casey’s hair as he began to stroke in and out, breathing gone ragged with the sudden passion. For his part, Casey rode hard, taking all of James’ love with a fire of his own, consuming his mouth, sharing his breath, losing all sense of where his body ended and his lover’s began. He was adrift, and never noticed when James rolled them over and rocked him back onto his shoulders, driving deep down into him again and again.
The heat turned to fire, and spread outward from deep inside Casey, and he began to writhe and moan, clutching the sheets, as the climax crashed through him. He clenched and spasmed, squeezing James cruelly. James began to pulse, and spread Casey’s legs as far as he could, driving even deeper, ‘til molten passion flooded Casey, inside and out.
*
The guys collapsed and lay together in bed for several minutes, spent, still joined, before taking another long shower and making Casey’s bed with a fresh set of sheets. “With all the times I took showers with the baseball team, it was never quite like that. If I’d known how much fun a shower could be, I mighta had some closer friends on the team.”
James glared at him. “Well, after that statement, you’re sure not gonna go back to playin’ baseball, buddy.” Unfortunately, Casey was sipping on another cup of coffee right then, and choked on it, trying not to spew it all over his clean bed.
The boys passed the morning together at the house, talking and laughing together, holding each other close, so it was nearly lunchtime when they pulled into James’ driveway. Jessie’s car was there. Casey was squirming in his seat, so James spoke up. “Babe, she already knows. This is just daylighting.”
Casey smiled wryly, and unfastened his seat belt. “It’s not that – at least, it’s not ONLY that. I’m not used to being stretched like you did me this morning.” He opened the door to the truck and clambered out, walking funny. James started laughing so hard, he had trouble getting his own seatbelt unfastened, but he caught up to Casey before they reached the door and took his hand.
As they walked into the kitchen, hand in hand, James called out, “Mom, I’m home! Can I talk to you for a minute?” Casey tried to pull his hand back, but James frowned at him, so he gave up.
Jessie walked in, took one look at the guys, together, and smiled warmly. “I see. My sons have found one another.” She walked up to Casey and looked up at his face. “I expect James to treat you with respect, and for you to show him as much love as he has for you.” She pulled his head down enough to kiss him on the forehead, and pulled him into a warm hug.
Then she turned to face James. “You found your courage, and your tongue, did you? I hoped you would. I always saw the love Casey had for you. What I said to him goes for you, too.” She wrapped her arms around her son and breathed a deep sigh, before she stepped back.
“Now, what did you want to talk to me about?” Looking back and forth between her two boys, both wore broad smiles, and both boys’ stomachs rumbled at the same time.
“I just wanted to ask if you could make us lunch, Mom. That’s all.” James had on his best poker face. Casey did his best to do the same, trying to look innocent.
Jessie started to laugh and couldn’t stop. The guys joined in. Casey told his boyfriend, “James, you are so bad. Mrs. Batisse, may I stay for lunch? I’d be happy to help.”
“Of course, Casey, but only if you call me Mom. I’ve been baking bread, and it’s nearly done. There’s pork tenderloin, and I went to the farmer’s market today for fresh greens for a salad. Go wash your hands, and James can put you to work.”
James snickered. “You hear that, babe? I can put you to work. Now, where’s my list?” The boys walked off together to the bathroom, jibing at each other.
Jessie laughed again, and said to herself, “Holidays are going to be a lot of fun this year,” before she turned to the fridge to gather ingredients.
- 16
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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