52 Panhead - 4. Chapter 4

I groaned and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. There was only one person who would be at my door at 8am on a Sunday. Evan stirred beside me, mumbling a little, but quieted when I rubbed a hand across his warm shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay."

I rolled out of bed and dragged boxers up over my butt as I walked down the hall, scratching my crotch and yawning. When I opened the door, I had to lower my gaze to the beaming face of Caledonia Zabrynski, my next door neighbor. Her long gray hair was in a straggly bun on top of her head, a stray hairpin sticking out here and there, and she held a foil-covered pie tin in each hand. We smiled at each other.

"Morning, Callie."

"Good morning, Jeffery. I noticed yesterday you had company, so I made you cinnamon rolls," she lifted her left hand, "for breakfast, and a nice apple pie," her right hand came up a few inches, "for dessert tonight."

Right about then the enticing aroma of the rolls wafted up to my nose, and I reached eagerly for the pans she held out to me. Both were still warm from the oven, and my mouth began to water. I'm the recipient of Callie's cinnamon rolls a couple times a month and it's always a real treat.

"Ah, great, thanks. They smell wonderful, as usual." I paused. "I'd ask you in for coffee, but, uh, we aren't up yet."

She was already walking back down the steps, waving a dismissive hand in the air over her shoulder, the hem of her housecoat trailing the ground. "That's fine, dear. I have more rolls in the oven anyway. Bring the tins back when you're finished, and have a nice day with your friend; he's a good looking boy."

Yes, he is, I thought, smiling as she crossed my yard on the way back to her own house. When I'd first moved in five years ago, my personal life had still been fairly active, and – shit, that's an understatement if there ever was one. I was fucking my brains out with anyone and everyone I could get my hands on. The tail end of my quantity-over-quality phase. If I’d been notching the bedpost, I’d have had just a pile of toothpicks left.

Anyway, I'd been a little concerned when I found out an older woman lived right next door. I wasn't ashamed of what I was, but I didn't want to offend her either. After I'd been there about a month, I was seeing off yet another overnight visitor, leaning in his car window for a parting grope. As he drove away, I turned to find Callie standing a few feet behind me, leaning forward to smile past me at the departing car.

"You certainly have a lot of friends."

"Ummm, yes, I do," I replied, trying to be as honest as possible without throwing it in her face.

"You're gay, aren't you?" she asked with raised eyebrows and an encouraging smile.

I blinked a couple times. "Well, yes, I am," I replied, searching unsuccessfully for some modifying statement to add to that bald admission, but Callie just patted my arm and walked away with a casual, “That must be interesting.”

That's all that was ever said about the subject, and over the years, Callie had become a good friend, someone with whom I shared a lot of my personal shit, sitting out on her porch in the evening sipping iced tea and eating whatever she'd baked that day. She wasn't the least bit fazed that my romantic trysts involved men rather than women, claiming that emotions were emotions, regardless of who they were applied to, an attitude I thought remarkably enlightened for a 60-something-year-old woman. I did odd jobs for her and kept her PC tuned up, and she baked for me. Both of us were quite happy with the arrangement.

I took the pie to the kitchen, pulled the foil off the rolls, and poured a big glass of cold milk. Leaving my boxers on the table, I walked back into the bedroom where Evan was on his side, eyes closed, breathing softly through his mouth. I held the pan of rolls under his nose, and in a moment he made a little waking-up noise in the back of his throat. As I watched, his eyes opened slowly and focused first on the rolls, then on my face, a smile widening his mouth. He sat up with a yawn, pushing back to lean against the pillows as I handed him the rolls and climbed in facing him, sitting cross legged between his knees. He dug a roll out of the pan with his fingers and held it up, offering me the first bite. I closed my eyes as I opened my mouth and bit off a big hunk of soft, warm, homemade cinnamon roll. Heaven.

He took a bite, “Oh, God,” and the expression of bliss that softened his features as he chewed made me smile. “Jesus, you bake, too?" he mumbled around the roll. His hair was tousled from sleeping, he had a crease down one cheek from the pillow case, and he looked as edible as the roll he was holding.

I chuckled and told him about Callie, including her comment that he was a good-looking boy. We started on a second roll, and as he held it out to me, a big drop of syrup sagged from the bottom. I caught it on one finger, but instead of sticking it in my mouth, I smeared the sticky warmth around his right nipple. He caught his breath, glancing quickly at me in surprise. I gave him a heated look, leaned forward to lick it slowly off him, moved across his chest to his other nipple, and sucked until it hardened. He watched me, his jaw clenched and his breathing quicker, then lowered his face to kiss me as I came up from his chest.

We managed to finish the second roll, washed it down with milk, and then I licked his fingers clean, making a production of it. I sucked each one all the way in, swirling my tongue up and down, and moaning. By the time I was finished, his face was tight with arousal and his cock was pointing straight up, a fat drop of precum just welling from the slit. I let his last finger slide out of my mouth, came to my knees, and then dropped to his dick, taking it in one plunge that buried my nose in his bush. He let out a long, “Nnnnnnh,” and ran his hands lightly over my shoulders as I blew him. When he began to fuck my mouth, I pulled off him, reached up to kiss him deeply, then grabbed his hips and tugged him down the bed till his ass was between my knees. I was wound up tight by this point, hot to get my dick in him, but I forced myself to slow down, and ran my fingers up the soft rippled skin of his belly onto the harder angles of his chest. As I leaned forward, I rubbed my erection along his, smiling at him as our cocks bounced against each other.

As I reached Evan's shoulders, I slid my hands up to cup his face, running one thumb along his bottom lip. He opened his mouth slightly and took it in, sucking gently; I felt every tug deep in my gut, and I suddenly couldn't wait any longer. I wasn't in the mood for slow and easy, so I took my wet thumb from his mouth, pushed his legs back, and slid it into his ass, not as gently as I could have. After a few thumb-fucks, I grabbed my leaking dick and shoved it into him. Part way in I stopped, open mouthed, breathing hard, and having to work at not shooting right then and there.

"Don't. Fucking. Move," I growled at him when he shifted his body slightly to ease my intrusion.

After a few minutes, I started a slow push that took me fully into him, stopping only when my balls were squashed up against his butt. When I looked at him, his eyes were closed and he was frowning slightly, his brows drawn together in concentration as he adjusted to me. I made a few quick little pumps over his prostate that popped his eyes open, and when I had his attention, I began long, deep strokes intended to finish us quickly. He lifted to meet my thrusts, and after a few minutes we came together hard and fast, my fingers flexed deeply into the meat of his thighs, his leaving marks on my wrists.

After a few moments, I leaned forward and rolled, pulling him onto his side facing me, my dick still buried in him. We lay there kissing a little as I softened and fell free, then I pulled him up and hauled him into the shower. We played till the hot water ran out again, and I made a mental note to upgrade the damn water heater.

When we finally got into the kitchen, Evan picked my boxers up off the table, took a quick sniff, and turned to me with a smirk. "Lose something?"

"Had to answer the door. Callie hasn't caught me naked yet; I'd like to keep it that way."

We made coffee, scrambled some eggs, and polished off the cinnamon rolls, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, our bare feet in a pile under the table with the dog. Chewy liked Callie's rolls as much as I did, so I gave him a couple pieces which he gobbled down like the hound he was. Evan watched him carefully lick his chops after each bite, getting all the sticky syrup off his mouth.

"That why you named him Chewy?"

"Uh-uh. ‘Member Starwars?"

"Sure."

I called Chewy out from under the table and had him sit facing me. I looked at him for a moment, squinted my eyes down to slits, then bared my teeth and opened my mouth in a big Chewbacca roar. Chewy stared at me for a second, then threw his head back and let out a roar of his own, shaking his head around so that his ears flopped all over the place. It always cracked me up when he did that, and it got to Evan, too. I watched him laughing at Chewy, seeing the way the skin crinkled up at the corners of his eyes, how his belly tightened and his chest rose and fell. It was the first time I'd seen him laugh out loud and I wanted him to never stop.

I ran my big toe up his ankle inside the leg of his jeans and he turned to me, his laughter dying out to those chuckles I liked so much - 'heh-heh-heh.' Although I’d known him just a couple days, and it was way too Goddamn soon, I almost opened my mouth with ‘I love you.’ But the last time I'd felt anything close to this, I'd been burned big time, and I just didn't have the balls to jump in that deep. I was also worried about his reaction, never mind his ability to feel the same thing for me, but some of what I felt must have shown on my face because his smile softened, and when he spoke, it was in a voice I hadn’t heard him use before.

"I could get used to this."

It was a simple statement, and could have meant the coffee and cinnamon rolls, or the cozy kitchen with the sun slanting in on a lazy Sunday morning, but I knew he meant us. As I gazed into those melancholy grey eyes, I remembered the sound of his laughter just a few moments ago. God, yes, I could get used to that.

"Me, too." I swallowed hard and held his eyes. We gazed into each other's faces, one of those lingering looks that always lead to some meaningful moment in the movies. Unfortunately, our mood was broken as his expression changed to a grimace, and he shoved his chair back with a yelp.

"Aggghhhhh! He licked my foot!" He scrubbed hard at the sole of his foot with the heel of his hand, his arms all goose bumps. Chewy stood wagging at him, tongue lolling, ready to play.

I laughed. "Ticklish, huh? I'll have to remember that."

"Not if you ever want me to get a hard-on again," he grumped with a shiver. "Makes me crazy."

I waited until he was finished squirming and sat back down at the table. "We need to talk, Evan. At least I do. How about we get outta here for a while?" He nodded, not looking at me, and we cleaned up the kitchen, put Chew in the back yard, and hopped in the Jeep.

Evan was silent, looking out the window on the drive into the city, but at one point he reached over and put his hand on my leg, gave a little squeeze and left it there, never looking my way. I glanced at him, then lay a hand over his, running my thumb lightly over the back of his hand. I wondered what he was thinking, and struggled to get my own thoughts sorted out. My body was responding to his touch, and I knew that I had to tell him how I felt. There was just too much about us that was right; I was determined not to let him leave today until I knew where this was headed. And I was beginning to realize that I desperately wanted it to be headed somewhere.

I believed him when he said he was no longer in love with Luke, but I knew there was a lot of the story I hadn't heard yet. Ten years seemed like a long time, long enough to be over almost anything, but was he really ready to get involved again? After two days with Evan, I knew I wouldn't be able to settle for a casual relationship with him, fuck buds whenever he was in the area. I wanted the gold ring, the glass slipper, the whole fucking fairy tale. No pun intended.

He gave me a curious look as I pulled into the parking structure of the museum complex. It was the 1^st Sunday of the month, and for five bucks we could wander through the many museums and the huge botanical gardens surrounding them for as long as we liked. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I looked at him. "Inside or out?"

He raised his face to the weak sun. "Out, at least for a while."

I led the way to a path that wound through the rear of the grounds, figuring we'd have a little more privacy back there. If things went the way I hoped, we'd need a little privacy. We walked slowly, a little closer together than strangers would, our shoulders bumping occasionally. I mentally rehearsed what I wanted to say, trying to decide between blurting out exactly what I felt (I love you, marry me, move in tomorrow), or playing it a little closer to the vest. The past three months had been pretty grim, and I had no intention of going back to wondering when I'd see him again. I needed some answers, but I wasn't even real sure what the questions were. After we'd walked for almost an hour, I knew it wasn't going to get any easier, so finally I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.

"This has been a great couple days, and I'm not ready for it to end," I looked off into the trees as he glanced at me and nodded.

"Me, neither."

"But I can't just let you drive off tonight without some sort of… something. Fuck." I blew out a breath, disgusted with myself. "Look, seven years ago I met a guy and it got pretty serious, at least for me, but he walked on me after a couple months. Just split."

I stopped talking for a moment, remembering the sick, empty feeling when I walked into our apartment after work that day to find all his stuff gone. No note, no nothing. I’d wished him dead that day, but seven years had dimmed my hurt and anger, and left behind only a dull regret at my poor judgment.

"I was a couple years younger than you, and thought I was in love with him. It fucked me up pretty good and I vowed I'd never get emotionally involved again." I snorted. "Easy to say at 25. Anyway, over the next couple years, I worked my way through every guy in every bar in three counties until I woke up one morning with somebody that I didn't remember at all. Didn't know his name, couldn't remember the sex - if there'd even been any."

I glanced at him, but he was staring at the path in front of his feet, so I couldn’t read his expression. "I bought my house the next month. After I moved, I still fucked around some for a while, but…" I stopped walking and caught his arm to pull him around facing me so I could see his expression when I said my big line.

"After you came in the second time, I quit messing around entirely." I struggled to stay cool, afraid of scaring the bejesus out of him. "For those three months, until I ran into you in the woods Friday, I didn't touch another guy." He was staring at me like a deer in the headlights, and all I could think was, fuck me, but it was too late to stop now, so I finished it up. "Evan, I need to know what you're feeling, if you…" I stopped and licked my parched lips. "I need to know what you want outta this."

I stared back at him, my stomach queasy with apprehension. I hadn't put this much on the line in seven years, and it was one of the hardest things I'd ever done.

As his eyes roamed over my face, I let him see what I was feeling - the hope and the uncertainty. I was past pretending that he didn't matter to me. After a solid minute, during which I swear my fucking heart damn near stopped three times, he took a single step toward me, not lifting his hands, just bringing his face to mine and kissing me softly. It was just like the first time he kissed me in the garage; our lips were the only part of us touching and there was so much in that kiss - longing, desire, and not a little fear. He slid his tongue lightly along my bottom lip as he pulled back to look squarely into my eyes

"I want us to have a chance," he said softly, and my knees almost gave out.

Not a wild declaration of love, which would have sounded wonderful, but made me suspicious, given Evan’s history. No, something much more real, something much better - a chance to see what we could make of this tenuous beginning. Neither of us was long on faith when it came to matters of the heart. His had been shattered, and mine had been badly broken, but we were ready to try again. Fate, that flighty bitch, had brought us together in this time and place to try again.

Almost giddy with relief, I blew out a long breath and wrapped my arms around him. As his chest pressed to mine, I felt his heart banging along and smiled to know that I was not the only nervous one here. We stood there clutching each other until two older women came into view and gave us a startled look. I gave them a reassuring smile and turned us to walk the other way, taking Evan's hand in mine.

"I know you have to go home tonight, but how do you want to work this? I can come down there next weekend, if you want. Callie'll take Chew."

He thought about that for a minute before saying, "Nah, I'll come back up here, but I can't do next weekend. It’s gotta be the one after."

I tried to keep the disappointment off my face, two weeks without Evan?, nodding to let him know that was okay with me. "Friday evening, then - can you make it for dinner?"

He nodded, and we walked around for a while, still holding hands. When we came to an area of thick hedges that formed a maze, we wandered into it until we found a bench tucked behind a high wall of greenery. I pulled him down with me, turning to him with my knee bent to lie across his thigh.

"I could hardly believe you were real in the woods Friday. It gave me the creeps for a second. I wanted to find you so badly, but I had no idea where the fuck to even start looking. I never would have thought to go to Patterson, for Christ sake."

"I know. That's why I came up here whenever I got the chance. I know it sounds nuts, but I couldn't go to you again. I needed it to happen by itself, I guess. Like then I'd know it was meant to happen because I didn't force it… or something. I don't know." He shook his head and shrugged, gazing unseeingly at the hedge. "You have no idea how much I thought about you those three months."

"Yeah, I do cause I thought about you just as much. Every Goddamn minute, it seemed like sometimes. Especially at night with my dick in my hand."

We smiled at each other, a little easier together now that we had both admitted to wanting this.

"Did you notice the tank on the Pan?" He shook his head, frowning at me a little. "It's you," I told him. "I'll show you when we get home. My original drawings are at the house." He gripped my shoulder, turning me and pulling me back to lean against him, his arm over my chest, rubbing slowly. We sat as the day cooled off, content there in the quiet of the garden. Once I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head, and I closed my eyes, profoundly thankful that I'd found the guts to tell him what I was feeling.

An hour later, it was cool enough to get us off the bench, so we went back to the car and drove toward home, looking for somewhere to eat along the way. We found a little Greek place, and when Evan asked the waiter for a recommendation, admitting he'd never eaten Greek food before, the waiter threw up his hands, put away his pencil, and insisted we leave it to him.

A big salad and two forks appeared first, along with crusty bread and a bottle of wine. We ate slowly, rubbing knees under the small table and smiling at each other a lot, something the waiter obviously picked up on cause he came by and lit the candle on our table, setting it between us and rolling his eyes with a smile. Evan watched him walk away, and then turned to me with a funny look on his face. I raised an eyebrow at him.

He hesitated before he spoke. "An old gypsy thing. The first person who notices you're in love has to be invited to your wedding."

Our wedding! His voice was casual, but his eyes met mine steadily as I replied, matching his tone. "Then I guess we better get his name."

He smiled at me and the moment passed as we waded through the large sampler platter the waiter brought next, but I was one happy boy on the ride home. We were still pretty quiet with each other, and I wondered about that a little, but it was obvious that he wanted to let things develop more slowly than I did. I decided to play it his way, wanting this to work more than I'd wanted anything in a hell of a long time. His allusion to being in love with me was enough for now.

We talked a bit about our families. Evan was an only child; his parents still lived in the house he'd grown up in. Both sets of grandparents were still alive and kicking, but lived out of state and only got together a couple times a year. He'd been bred, born and raised in Patterson, and had never really considered moving elsewhere. He took a bite of lamb and lifted an eyebrow at me.

"How about you? You lived here your whole life?"

I snorted out a laugh. "Not hardly - just since I bought the house. Before that I was all over the southeast. Started out in Georgia where my dad worked in the mills, but he split before I was born. I've got a sister eight years older; I was an accident and it was the last straw for my old man. After that, my mom worked her fingers to the bone and died at thirty-nine of heart failure. I was fifteen, and I stayed with my sister and her husband for a couple years before I split. Been on my own since."

"What's your sister's name? You're not close to her?"

"Barbara. She thinks being queer is a disease, something I ought to be able to 'cure' myself of. Last time we talked, I told her to fuck off. That was seven years ago."

That had hurt. I'd called her because I was desperately unhappy over the end of my ill-fated relationship, and needed some comfort. She'd told me to get a grip, that men couldn't feel like 'that' about each other, so why was I surprised he'd left me?

Evan was staring at me. "Jesus, that's awful. I guess I'm naïve. I mean, I know it exists, but I'm always amazed when I hear about people who think like that."

"I've got a nephew, too, her kid. Brendan. He was about a year old when I left; I barely remember him."

"Huh." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess that's one thing I regret, for my folks' sake - that I won't have any kids for them to spoil. I know my mom's bummed about it, although she never says anything." He sighed and took a swig of his beer.

In an effort to change the subject, I said, "So you had the All American childhood, I bet. Swimming pool, country club membership, golf lessons."

He gazed at me for a long moment. "Something like that, yeah," he replied in a subdued voice. He went back to his dinner and ate silently for a few minutes. As I watched him, I thought about how my comment must have sounded to him. I put a hand on his arm.

"I didn't mean anything by that, Evan. It sounds great. It's just… way different than how I grew up, that's all."

He met my eyes for a second or two before nodding. "You don't have any other family?" he asked.

"Not that I know of. My old man might still be alive, I guess, but if he is, he hasn't bothered lookin' me up. My folks were both only kids, so no aunts or uncles. I guess I'm the last of a short and sorry line of Georgia crackers."

Evan studied my face as I fidgeted uncomfortably. I rarely talked about my background because it made me sound like a charity case or something. After hearing about Evan's life in the 'burbs, I was feeling outclassed and defensive. "What?" I snapped at him.

"Why are you upset?"

"I'm not fuckin' upset," I said too loudly, my voice rising with every word. I looked away and blew out a frustrated breath before coming back to his eyes. "It makes me feel like shit talking about it, ok? I feel like you'll think I'm…"

"What? Not good enough?" He sat his beer down with a clunk. "Jesus, Jeff. Do I really seem that shallow to you?"

Now I was miserable. "No." I swallowed hard. "No, you don't. And I don't really feel that way - most of the time, anyhow. But you gotta admit we come from pretty different backgrounds."

"Yeah, we do. So fuckin' what?"

I grabbed the bill when it came, needing to make myself feel better, and we left it at that, although I knew we'd need to talk it out before too long. Evan came from a loving family, a privileged upbringing, money; I came from a hard-scrabble broken home. Wildly divergent backgrounds had done in many a relationship, so it was important - to me, at least - that we both understood the ground rules. If I couldn't keep up with Evan's lifestyle financially, we didn't stand a chance.

It was late afternoon when we got home, and Chewy was looking lonely, so we grabbed jackets and drove to the local dog park where he raced around with his doggie buds while we threw tennis balls for them and tried to pretend nothing was wrong. We chatted with the skinny blond girl who owned a Jack Russell that Chewy was fond of, and eyed a hot guy who was flinging a Frisbee for his Border collie, his jeans tightening nicely over his ass when he leaned into a throw.

When Evan went to get a drink of water, I walked around, smiled at a few other people I saw there regularly, and then turned when a voice said, "Jeff? That you?"

"Hey, uh, Mark." We'd hooked up once just before Evan had come into the garage the second time. He was Evan's total opposite - blond, gym muscles, about 5'10", good looking in a rough sort of way that must have appealed to me at the time, which had been about 5 beers past midnight, if I remembered correctly.

Just then, Evan walked up and stopped close by my side. Mark looked him over slowly, and without looking at me, said, "This the reason you haven't been around lately?"

Before I could reply, Evan said in a firm, quiet voice, "Yes."

Just the one word, but it carried a whole lot more meaning than I would have thought possible.

Mark looked at him for another long moment, and then shifted his gaze to me, looking me up and down with an exaggerated pause at my crotch. "Maybe I'll see you around, big guy."

As he walked away I heard, "Don't count on it, asshole." I turned to stare at Evan as he muttered that last bit under his breath, and he flushed when he caught my eye. "Sorry. I can be a little territorial."

I smiled slowly at him, hooked a finger through his belt loop, and tugged him quickly to me so that our noses were three inches apart.

"A little is okay. I can live with a little." I kissed him briefly, and slung an arm over his shoulders as we walked slowly back to the Jeep, bumping hips and grinning at each other.

We almost forgot the dog.