A Summer Love - 12. Chapter 12

October 7, 1991

He told me I'd lit a fire in him, and damn was he right. We had spent the past 36 hours getting to know each other and fucking our brains out. I lay in bed panting, after another round of mind blowing sex. This is the time in a relationship where I usually fuck it up. I would decide that I’d moved too fast, and that, now that I'd gotten what I wanted, won the hunt, it just wasn't as exciting as it used to be. Those thoughts didn't even enter my mind with Max. I wanted him as much this morning as I did last night, as I did last month. I mentally swallowed hard and dove in, knowing that by not holding back I was taking a huge risk.

“What's wrong?” he asked me. It was amazing how we were clicking, linking together. It's as if we've been together for years, the way he can read me.

“I'm feeling kind of like you did,” I said.

“You mean about us? You having second thoughts?” he asked, really upset.

“No Max, I'm not having second thoughts. I'm just nervous because I feel myself falling into you, so into you, and I know I should put on the emotional brakes but I just do not want to.”

He got a big smile. “Let the brakes off baby. I'm gonna make you the happiest guy on the planet.” I smiled back, then kissed him, then pulled away, looking into his beautiful eyes, and then kissed him again. We spent our whole morning in bed, being alternately intimate, passionate, and erotic. Fuck the Ecstasy, this was so much better. I was so fucking high on life I almost couldn't stand it.

“So what do you want to do today?” he asked me.

“Stay here in bed with you,” I said. “I cannot get enough of you.”

He laughed. “It's a nice day and we have no commitments on campus. Let's go do something, just you and me, together.” I got an evil idea.

“Alright,” I told him. “I want you to do me a favor.”

“Anything. I'll do anything for you,” he said.

“Anything?” I asked, stroking his limp dick.

“Anything.”

“I want to buy you a new car.” He stared at me, squinting in irritation.

“I don't want you to do that Marcel. I'll feel like a hustler,” he whined.

“You said anything,” I said, kissing him.

“That's not really fair,” he objected. I kissed him again.

“Please?” I put my hands on his cheeks. “You are the most amazing man, and I want to do something nice for you.”

He stared at me, conflicted, wanting to make me happy, but not wanting me to spend money on him. “You sure you can afford it?” he teased.

“Yep. I've got shitloads of money. What kind of car do you want?”

“Another Honda. I love that car. It's been fucking indestructible,” he said. “Maybe an Accord coupe.”

“OK. A Honda. But I get to pick it out,” I teased.

“Alright. It's a deal.” I smiled to myself. He picked Honda because he liked them, and he was sure they'd be cheaper than something I might pick.

We took a shower and I fucked him again, and once again I was amazed at how he had this ability to fire me up even when my body was begging for a break. We had lunch at a local deli.

“This feels so right,” he said to me.

“I know,” I said, gazing at him. I was totally moonstruck. Would I feel this way next week? Next year? Time to take a leaf out of Lou's book and live for today, I told myself. “What are you going to do about your apartment?” I asked nervously.

“I'll have to go back there and throw him out. I'm not going to have him living there with me.” He seemed a little pissed off, and that made me nervous. I didn't want to be a rebound. I shook that off. I had to stop with these doubts.

“Why not stay with me?” I asked nervously.

“Marcel, we've only known each other for a month now, we've only been a couple for one day, and you're asking me to move in with you?” he said, shaking his head at me. “You want to buy me a car and open your doors to me. It's almost too much.”

“Almost?” I asked, teasing him. “Take the guest room. That way you can have your own space. Even if you never spend any time there.”

“You sure it's OK with you if I do that temporarily?” he asked, emphasizing temporarily. He was giving himself a way out if things didn't click with us. I knew as well as he did that once he was here, he'd be staying here.

“It would be fucking awesome.” We headed to the Honda dealer and had a blast. He wanted to buy a four door Accord but I laughed so hard at that he finally gave up. The salesman disappeared for a while, while we checked out an Accord Coupe.

“We've got one of the new Preludes if you want to see that,” the guy said, smiling at us. Max raised his eyebrow at me and I laughed. We followed the guy to the back and there was automotive beauty. Silver with a black interior, and tricked out wheels, I could tell Max was in love with it.

The salesman looked at me. “Man, I like you guys, and I'm not trying to give you a rush sale, but you want this car, you have to say so now. It goes at sticker, but I'll try to get you a good deal on your trade in.”

“Done,” I said, and shook his hand. Max just stared at me.

“You sure Marcel? It's kind of expensive at sticker price.” This was rhetorical, since the guy was already off getting the old car appraised and drawing up the papers.

“Yeah. You're worth it. You're the kind of guy that deserves some nice things in life, who deserves to be treated well. You know how good it makes me feel to be the one allowed to do that?” He moved in and pulled me into a hug, then a kiss, until we heard the car start behind us. There was a young guy who was taking it off to get it prepped, and he gave us a dirty look. I sighed. Being gay wasn't always easy.

We headed back into the showroom and to the salesman's office. He was such a nice guy, and got things handled as soon as he possibly could. As he walked us out to the car, some of the other car salesmen over in the corner nodding at us and snickered. I looked at our salesman and he turned red with anger.

“I'm really sorry about that,” he said. “I really am.”

“It's no big deal,” I told him. “You get used to it.” He gave Max the keys and we hopped in. He walked up to close my door.

“Personally, I think you two make a really cute couple,” he said. I smiled and shut the door. Max had to drive all over the fucking place. He was going nuts in his new car. It was really nice.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I have to wait until the insurance company figures out what they want to do,” I said fatalistically.

“Why?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I told him. “I guess I figured that's the way it went. It's no big deal. I can just ride with you, now that you're not driving a piece of shit.”

“No, I'm not. Thanks again babe. This is the most awesome present anyone's ever given me.” He grinned at me and I felt as happy as he did. He got somber. “You know, I'm in such a great mood, everything is going so great today, but I kind of want to get my stuff.”

“Let's go,” I said, swallowing nervously.

“You don't have to go,” he said.

“I'm going,” I said firmly.

“You don't trust me?” he asked.

That really pissed me off. “That's a shitty thing to say. I trust you. I just want to be there to support you. It could be tough.”

“I'm sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I'm just not used to someone caring about me that much.”

“Well deal with it,” I said, and flashed him my killer smile. We drove up in front of his apartment and headed in nervously. Lark was sitting on the couch in his underwear. It's a shame he was such a dick. He was pretty cute.

“You're back,” he observed like he didn't give a shit. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked me rudely.

“I'm here to help Max move out,” I told him, staring him straight in the eyes.

“Yeah right. Max isn't going anywhere,” Lark said in a cocky tone.

“Yeah, I am,” Max said decidedly, speaking for the first time. “And you're leaving. Get the fuck out of here Lark.”

“You're kidding me right? Is that what being a couple means to you? You go out and fuck around with some grad student,” he said, gesturing at me dismissively, “then you come back and tell me that you're moving out. So much for loyalty.”

“We are not a couple. You’ve said so yourself many times. We're only a couple when you want to drain my bank account. Other than that, you don't give a shit about me. You're a user, Lark. A leach. A parasite. But you're done sucking the blood out of me. Now get the fuck out.”

“Or what?” he asked belligerently.

“Or else I will kick your ass from here all the way to Oak Park,” I said, so pissed off I couldn't see straight. I wanted to hit him so bad. “Come on Lark, you big pussy. You want to go a round with me?”

“Brad would kill me if I hurt you,” he said, trying to weasel out of it, and to remind Max of how Brad had dumped him.

“What would you care what he thinks anyway? He wrote your sorry ass off a long time ago,” I said spitefully. I looked at Max and saw his pain, the agony this was causing him, and felt sorry for him. But I wasn't backing down now. No fucking way.

“You know what? I don't need this bullshit from you, or from you, you stupid bitch,” Lark said to Max. He stormed into the bedroom and began throwing things around, presumably packing. Max stood there in the corner, trying to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks.

I moved over to him and put my arms around him, enveloping him. He sunk into me and didn't say anything; he just let me hold him. “It will be alright,” I told him. “It will be alright.”

“I know. I'm so pissed off right now I can't stand it,” he said.

“This is you mad?” I teased. “You do not throw things? You do not yell?”

He shook his head, smiling.

“That's no fun. I will have to teach you how to get all pissed off,” I said.

“I think you just showed me,” he said. “I guess that's why people take advantage of me.”

“That's why you need a partner who will not put up with any shit,” I said, smiling.

“Partner?” he asked with a curious look.

“You know what I mean,” I said, frustrated at him catching me in a Freudian slip.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, snickering at me.

Just then Lark came strolling out of the bedroom with a duffel bag over his shoulder. “I can't believe you're doing this after all of our time together!” He was changing gears. He was about to go for the emotionally plaintive routine, and that might just work on Max.

“You are so transparent Lark. No wonder you did not try acting. You suck at it,” I said rudely.

“Fuck you Marcel. You're full of shit.” I was tracking him now, understanding his plan. He was going to be as aggressive with me as he could without provoking an actual fight, while being Mr. Nice Guy to Max.

“Well let's see. First you start off with the 'pissed off asshole routine,' then switch quickly to the 'you’ve not been a good boyfriend guilt shit,' and then when that does not work, you try the 'you will be sorry when I'm gone' shtick. Now you're doing the 'how can you be so mean to me' deal, and you're about to try the 'pulling at the heartstrings' number. Well let me save you the humiliation. It will not work. So fuck off.” I stood there in the room, my knees bent, like a tiger ready to pounce.

He looked at me, severely annoyed. He didn't want to fight me, he knew I was ready for him, but he knew he was at the point where if he didn't respond to my challenge, he'd lose. I watched his face grimace in determination and knuckled up my fists, knowing that he had come to that same conclusion, and made his decision.

He flew at me, almost airborne, but I was ready and I stepped back and threw my right hook, my best punch, not that I fought all that much. Or ever. I felt it land against the side of his head and knock him to the side and into the couch. Then I was on him, my fist driving into his face, then his knee hit me in the balls, and I rolled off of him in pain. I saw him about to jump on me and I knew this was going to hurt. I was in no position to respond. The pain shot through my body, so bad I thought I was going to puke. I hoped he hadn't ruptured one of my testicles.

Then I saw a flash and Lark was falling backward. Max. Max picked him up and threw him into the door, then, when Lark fell away from it, Max opened the door and tossed him out. He didn't stop there. He pulled him across the foyer and opened the front door, and punched him in the stomach, watching him fall down the four stairs leading up to the building. I watched him and said nothing as he grabbed Lark's duffel bag and started ripping through it, pulling out all the shit that was his own. “He was going to rip me off again, that fucker,” he said, so pissed it was scary. Finally, satisfied that he'd gotten all of his stuff out of the duffel, he carried it out front and threw it on Lark, knocking him back off the step he'd manage to crawl onto. “Get the fuck out of here Lark. I never want to see you again. Never. You got that?” Max was actually screaming.

“I got it. But you'll miss me, and you know it. I'll be back, and you'll be there for me. You always are,” he said, in a sad yet arrogant tone. He looked back at me. “Hey Marcel, I hope your nut's busted,” he said with a sneer, then flipped me off and walked off.

Max stormed into the apartment and I followed him and locked the door behind us with the chain. I followed him into his room, amazed at what a shithole it was. He had a full size bed, the one he'd probably had as a teenager, and the same furniture he'd probably had then too. Only it had been beaten up over the years, so it was falling apart, the particle board disintegrating with the wear and tear. He opened his closet and it was full of boxes.

“I never unpacked. It just didn't feel like home here,” he said sadly. I moved up behind him and put my arms around him.

“Thanks for saving me,” I said. “I did not think he'd kick me in the balls.”

“He has no scruples,” Max said angrily. “He didn't permanently damage you did he?” he asked with a leer.

“No. I can still perform my carnal duties,” I teased back.

“I should have been the one fighting him anyway.” I felt him mellow. “Still, I can't be too mad at him. He sees me falling in love and he gets jealous.”

“Falling in love?” I asked. “You give me shit for referring to you as my partner, and you use the ‘L’ word?”

“Why don't you help me pack?” he asked me with a faked irritated look.

“Why not leave all this shit here and just bring your clothes?” I asked.

“You think?” he asked, and seemed to actually back up and look at the place for the first time. The apartment was nice, but his stuff was shit. “You're right. What a bunch of shit.” We worked like banshees. He went through stuff while I threw things away. It was a lot of work, especially for someone who had sore balls. Finally, at around 7pm, we had the last of the shit he wanted to keep crammed into the Honda and we jetted up the drive to my condo.

An hour later we had lugged all the boxes upstairs, and by that time, I was fully exhausted. “Pizza?” I asked him.

“Pepperoni,” he said, smiling. I called and ordered it, then applied myself to lugging the boxes out of the main rooms and into the study or guest room. Dinner, some unpacking, and then I was pretty exhausted and so was he. We took a shower together and made love this time. We were way beyond fucking.

October 31, 1991

I looked at myself in the mirror, admiring my Halloween costume. Or lack of one. “I was going as a “head hunter,” so I had a grass skirt on, some funky makeup, and a spear with a bunch of dildos lashed onto it. Max walked in and started laughing. “You're laughing at me?” I asked.

He was going as Arnold Schwarzenegger or at least as his character from The Terminator. I'd seen the movie when it came out, but forgotten the details. Max loved it though. So he was wearing some funky robe thing that barely covered up his body. We wrapped coats around ourselves, both to hide our costumes from the public and to defend against the weather, for it was winter in Chicago. It was fucking cold.

We took the elevator down to the garage. “Let's take your car,” he said. “I'm gonna get really drunk and make an ass of myself tonight.”

I laughed at that. “You? Let yourself lose control? I've only seen that when my dick is in your ass.”

“Let me drive,” he said, holding out his hand. I gave him the keys and smiled. My car had vanished from the face of the earth, and the insurance company decided that it was being chopped up for parts and paid me off. So I'd gone out and bought this car, a Porsche 911 convertible. I got the Carerra 4 because I thought the all-wheel drive would be good in snow. We'll see. It was red with a black interior. The Mercedes was nice in a classy kind of way, but this one, this car was a fucking blast to drive.

Max pulled out of the garage and onto Sheridan and headed south, going the speed limit as usual. “The true beauty of this car is lost on you when you do not speed,” I chided.

“Do you want to get pulled over dressed like this?” he asked. He had a point. I moved my hand over to his leg and started rubbing it. “I'm driving Marcel,” he said, as I worked my way up his thigh.

“You need to learn to multi-task,” I said as I ran my hand over his balls. He'd left his underwear off. Good. I ran my finger down to his crack and it felt all slippery. He'd lubed himself up so I could fuck him later. “You planning ahead?”

He blushed, a deep red, and looked over shyly. “Kind of.”

I leaned over and kissed his neck, then his ear. “Good, because I'm going to fuck you the first chance I get. I love the way you feel, it's so good.”

He giggled. “Stop it Marcel. I'm going to wreck the fucking car.”

“Are you happy?” I asked him, out of the blue.

“What? What does that have to do with you making me horny as hell while I'm driving?”

“Nothing,” I said, matter of factly. “I'm changing the subject.”

“Am I happy with what?” he asked cautiously.

“Are you happy with your life? Are you happy with your career? Are you happy with me?” I asked nervously. We'd been doing great, it had been amazing. We clicked as a couple seamlessly. We'd come home and cook dinner, sometimes together, sometimes just one of us, or go out, and then hang out in the evening. He'd grade papers or work on his research, and I'd work on my papers and study. And in between those tasks, we fucked. We fucked constantly. I simply couldn't keep my hands off him. I'd see him and I'd get horny. I was insatiable. It was almost impossible to be around him without touching him.

And we talked. We talked a lot, that cool, exciting part of a relationship where we were getting to know each other. And the more I got to know him, the more I appreciated what a solid, loving guy he was.

“Yeah,” he said. I stared at him, and he started cracking up. “Oh, you wanted me to elaborate?” I smacked him.

“Only if you want to,” I said, pretending to pout.

“I'm happy with my life Marcel. My job is fine, I love where I live, it's awesome. I feel better about myself than I've ever felt. But the thing in my life that makes me the happiest is you.” I smiled at him.

“I am so gonna fuck you,” I teased. “You make me so horny.”

We drove up to the VIP entrance and valet parked. They knew me here. We normally didn't spend much time in the bar; Max seemed a little uncomfortable there. But we spent a lot of time in the restaurant, and the little bar area they had in there. It was quiet and intimate. I loved being at J-Bar with him, a place where it was safe, expected that we'd be able to show our affection.

Tonight, thought, we headed into the main bar area and it was alive. Bruno had booked a live band for Halloween, and the place was packed. All kinds of hot guys wearing almost nothing, smashed together. And I didn't give a shit about any of them. The only guy I wanted was right next to me.

“Hey Marcel,” said a familiar voice next to me. I felt myself tense up, and Max, being so in touch with me, sensed it and instinctively put his arm around me.

“I did not expect to see you back in Chicago, at least not so soon,” I said, staring at him. He looked so good, as usual, so fantastic. It was part of that perfect combination of factors. “This is my boyfriend, Max,” I said, introducing him. “Max, this is Lou.” I saw Max's facial expression change markedly, to one of anger. His brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. I felt his whole body tense up. I leaned up and kissed him behind the ear, and hoarse-whispered “relax” into his ear.

“I see you've heard about me Max,” Lou said, turning on his considerable charm. I was amazed to see that it had no impact on Max at all. “I'm glad Marcel found someone to make him happy.”

Now that did surprise him, and transformed his mood. “He tell you he was happy?” Max asked, looking at me.

“He did not have to. I can tell. It is something I could never do,” he said sadly. Lou was completely naked, with paint sprayed on him to make him look kind of like a plant. It made him look sexier than ever.

He reached into a leather pouch strapped around his leg and pulled something out. “Here. These are yours.” He took my hand and put the stuff in it. It was my fake Rolex, and the $700 he'd taken from me when he left. “I'm sorry Marcel. I've taken advantage of you for so many years. Even when you give, I still take. I'm going to do better.”

I looked up at Max and he smiled at me. “Here,” I said, putting the stiff back into Lou’s hand. “You keep it. Besides, the watch is fake anyway.”

“Really?” he asked. He hadn't tried to pawn it?

“Yeah. But it works. So keep it, keep the money. I'm over you Lou. You will never get to me again like you did. But I still care about you. So take the cash.”

He instinctively gave me a big hug, and then pulled away quickly. “I am sorry,” he said to Max respectfully.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “It was nice to meet you Lou, and that's something I thought I'd never say.”

Lou laughed, and flashed his smile at Max. Now the charm was starting to work. “Alright, I'm getting you away from him before he fucks you,” I teased, as I grabbed Max.

“I would not do that to you Marcel. All the shit I've taken from you before has been money, things. He is important to you. Surprisingly, he is safe from me. Although I might tease him a bit,” Lou said, wrapping an arm around Max so he was pressing against him with his plump cock.

Max looked nervous as hell until I started laughing. Then I dragged him off anyway. “You OK?” he asked me.

“I'm fine,” I told him. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He was quiet for a while. “He's fucking hot.”

I laughed. “He is. He is incredibly good looking. And he is a very good lover too. But he cannot hold a candle to you.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss me. “Let's dance,” I said, and led him out to the jam-packed dance floor. We were smashed together. We danced and danced. “I did not know you had any rhythm,” I teased.

“Fuck yeah. I'm Fred Astaire, dude,” he said, joking. He turned his back to me and ground back into me seductively, making me laugh.

I moved my grass skirt around so I could pop my hard dick through it, then I lifted up the back of his rag, or whatever it was. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Then, without warning, I moved forward and pushed into him. “Jesus Marcel, on the dance floor?”

I pushed up into him, grinding with the music. “You want me to stop?”

“No fucking way,” he said. He pushed back into me, grinding us together, moving to the music, with my dick up his ass. It was so fucking erotic. None of the guys around us, pushing into us, bumping into us, seemed to realize we were actually fucking. Our costumes made it seem like we were still just grinding against each other, not into each other. It was awesome, a fuck so slow we wouldn't cum, but fast enough to keep us both on the edge.

He leaned against me and moved his mouth next to my ear. “Baby, I have to cum soon. God, I need to blow so badly,” he cooed.

“Me first,” I said. I reached down and grabbed the lube that slathered his ass and stroked some onto his cock gently. He groaned back into me. “Baby, I'm gonna fill you up. I'm gonna blow inside you. I'm gonna stay so quiet so no one knows.”

“Do it Marcel. I want to feel you dripping out of me the rest of the night,” he said, in his slutty voice.

That did it. I started blowing, gritting my teeth but maintaining the beat, the dance, the whole time, the self-restraint making me cum even harder than I thought I would. I carefully pulled out of him and readjusted my skirt, then changed places with him.

“You want me to?” he asked, surprised. He hadn't fucked me since that first night. He didn't really seem to want to, and I enjoyed his ass too much to argue.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “God, do I want you to.” He smiled and moved up against me. I felt his hard cock pushing and moved to invite him in. I still wasn't an expert bottom, so I had to work to hide my grimace as he slid into me with only the lube I'd managed to put on his cock, and to keep the beat. But I adjusted quickly, and remembered how good it felt to have him inside of me, to submit to him completely.

“Marcel, you feel so good. I love this feeling, the way you feel inside,” he cooed in my ear. “I'm gonna cum.” And then he blasted, just like I did, to the rhythm of the music. “That was amazing,” he said.

“It's always amazing with you,” I said, letting him pop out of me so I could turn and kiss him. “I'm surrounded by all these hot, mostly naked gay guys and I barely notice them. You are all I want.”

He kissed me passionately there on the dance floor, everyone else dancing and thrashing around us, bumping into us, while we just stood there making out. I was so in love with him it almost hurt. But I was determined not to be the one to admit it first.