52 Panhead - 7. Chapter 7

What was it with the bar? Couldn’t be someplace him and Luke had hung out cause they hadn’t been of drinking age when Luke was killed. Was it near the site of the accident? He’d never said where it happened, so I had no idea. I blew out a breath and dropped my head back onto the cushion with my eyes closed. Why couldn’t anything be easy? Something so simple as what the fuck to have for dinner turned into this emotional event. I pushed to my feet and rubbed the knot on my head as I went to find Evan.

When the Chinese arrived, we ate potstickers, General Pao's Shrimp, pork with green beans, and fried rice sitting barefoot at his kitchen table, passing the containers back and forth. When we got down to the last shrimp, I speared it on a chopstick, bit off half, and then held the rest out to Evan. He watched me as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue a little, just like he did when I was about to stick my dick in his mouth. I stared at his open mouth for a few seconds, and then fed him the shrimp. We were just cleaning up when his cell phone rang; his side of the conversation went like this.

"'Lo?"

"Hey, man."

"Not tonight, I got somethin' going on."

“Yeah, yeah...” He chuckled.

“Uh-huh."

“’K, see ya Thursday.”

He flipped his phone shut, jammed it into his pocket and cut his eyes to me. When I raised both eyebrows, he waved it off. "Just a buddy."

A buddy from the bar where he didn't want to go for dinner, maybe? A buddy he was gonna see Thursday when I was safely 100 miles away again? I wadded up the plastic bag from the Chinese place, lobbed it at the trash can, and stalked into the living room.

Jealousy is such an attractive emotion, but at least it's its own punishment - I felt like shit.

I was slumped on the couch channel surfing when he came in and sat down next to me. We stared silently at the TV as I flipped past drag racing, bull riding, baseball, and the moronic canned laughter of sitcom after sitcom. Finally, he took the remote from my hand and hit 'mute.'

“I didn’t flip out when we ran into your buddy Mark at the dog park. Why are you pissed?”

“He's not my buddy, and I’m not pissed,” I said churlishly, trying to grab the remote back from him.

“You’re something,” he replied, switching the remote to his other hand so that it was out of my reach.

“No, I’m not. Give me that Goddamn thing.”

He rolled quickly off the couch and moved to the far side of the coffee table. Leaning forward, he waved it in my face, then shoved it down the front of his pants and thrust his crotch out at me. “Come and get it, hot shot.”

I watched him for a moment, waiting till his weight shifted to his near foot, then launched off the couch and caught his ankle as he turned to flee. His bare foot slid from my hand before I could get a good grip, and then he was up and running for the kitchen. I sprinted after him, getting a hand on his shirt as he rounded the table, but he ducked away. We dashed around the condo for a couple minutes, swearing a blue streak and laughing like hyenas, until I finally caught him in the bedroom, tackling him onto the bed and pinning him with my weight.

He was still fighting me as I wedged a hand between us. “Now give me the motherfucking remote,” I growled at him, wiggling my fingers into his firm belly.

He thrashed and yelled, but I was stronger, heavier and more determined, and pretty soon he gave up and let me yank it out of his jeans. I flung it across the room, grabbed his wrists and bore down until he was flat beneath me, gasping as he tried to stop laughing. I waited until he was quiet before I spoke.

“I’m not pissed, okay? A little irritated, maybe, but….” As I stared into his eyes, the fight went out of me, and I rolled off him to lie on my back with a sigh.

“About what?”

“Why didn’t you wanna go to that bar? And don’t give me that ‘Chinese sounded better’ bullshit.”

The silence seemed endless as I waited for him to reply, which he finally did in a wary tone. “I didn’t wanna run into anybody I knew.”

I mulled over several possible reasons for that before I said, “Why the fuck not?” trying hard to keep the hurt out of my voice.

“Oh, for Christ sake, it isn’t you.” He sighed in frustration. “I just wanna keep this.... us.... to myself for a while, until.…”

I rolled to my side facing him. “Until what?”

“Until…. until I’m more sure.”

“Of what? Of me stickin' around?”

“All of it, the whole thing,” he said defensively, waving his hands around in the air above us. “You. Me. Everything.” He lowered both hands to cover his face and was quiet for a bit, then said, “I was in therapy that first year after the accident, before I went off to school. My folks were worried that.… I wouldn't be able to accept Luke’s death. Survivor's guilt. I kept telling the shrink that I’d never be able to love anybody like I loved Luke.” He turned to look at me for a second before going back to the ceiling. “Remember, I was still operating under the ‘one’ theory back then. He told me I was right, that it would never be just like it was with Luke, but that I could love someone else, eventually. But I always argued the point with him, and for a long time, I was so sure I was right. You know everything at eighteen.” He stopped for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was very soft. “It’s just really scary to find out that maybe he was right. Good scary, but scary, and I just need some time, ok?”

I rolled to my back again, joining Evan in examining the cracks in the ceiling. I really needed to remember that even though ten years had passed, he had a lot of leftover shit to cope with from the accident. There was nothing in my life to compare with what had happened to him and his friends, and dealing with it was going to require a whole new depth of understanding and compassion from me that I wasn’t real sure I possessed. I didn’t have a problem with Evan’s reluctance to go public right away; paranoid, self-absorbed me had thought he didn’t want to be seen with me for some reason. Me, insecure? Nah.

“C’mere.” I scooted up a little and jammed some pillows behind my back as I tugged on his shirt. It took a few tugs and a “Come here,” but finally he rolled over and put his head on my stomach with an arm across my legs, his hand tucked around under my butt. I cupped the side of his head, pressing him closer to me for a second. “I’m sorry, man. I just…. I want this, you know? It fucks me up when I think something’s wrong, cause I want it to work.”

Evan nodded against my belly and I heard a muffled, “Me, too.”

“Ok, then,” I said, patting his shoulder like that settled the matter. “Ok.”

We stayed there for quite a while as I fiddled with his hair and rubbed his back with my other hand. Evan hummed little sounds of pleasure now and then, and squeezed my ass occasionally, but otherwise we were quiet, thinking our own thoughts, I guess. Last weekend I’d still been somewhat uncomfortable with the silences, afraid that maybe we had nothing to talk about, but this silence was anything but empty. It was close and intimate, laying there on his bed, even with all our clothes on. Maybe because we had all our clothes on. My chest tightened as a swell of affection moved through me. I was beginning to really like Evan, to enjoy just being with him as an end in itself, not merely a prelude to getting laid.

Around nine, I had to take a leak. He got up when I did, and when I came back from the john, I found him looking out the living room window at the dark neighborhood. I came up behind him and looped my arms around his waist, bumping into his butt and kissing the side of his neck when he dropped his head back onto my shoulder.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" I asked him softly.

He shrugged. "Too much shit to even process. How ‘bout a walk?"

"Sure."

It had cooled off some, so he tossed me a dark blue Patterson High Phys Ed hoodie from the coat tree behind the door, and I pulled it on as we trotted down the steps. Evan headed off down the street like we were late for an appointment, hands shoved into his pockets, his limp a little more pronounced than usual, but slowed down after a block to a more sedate pace, commenting on a house or yard as we walked.

"My 9th grade teacher lives there. I paint his house every few years," he said softly, nodding at a small gray home with white trim and shutters, ghostly in the dark. "He's the first adult I ever talked to about being gay, or thinking maybe I was."

"Was he?"

"I don't think so, although he never married. No, he's just a really decent man. Non-judgmental, easy to talk to. At least he was back then. He's older now and kinda crotchety."

"What'd he tell you?"

"Nothing monumental; just that it wasn't wrong to feel that way, and to listen to my heart. To be true to myself, I guess is what he meant." He shrugged one shoulder. "It helped."

We walked another block in silence, but Evan was still thinking about high school, because the next thing he said was, "Do you remember what it was like, looking at the boys, wondering if it was normal? I mean, I looked at girls, too, cause that's what you were supposed to do, but….. And you couldn't fuckin' ask anybody, cause what if you were the only one doin' it? The only one who got off lookin' at the smooth, hard bodies in the locker room, bodies that looked just like your own?" He paused and shook his head in bemusement. "Do you remember? Or wasn't it like that for you?"

“Fuck…. Yeah, it was pretty much like that for me, too. Lookin’ and wonderin’. Beatin’ off five times a day. There was this one kid I jerked off over the whole way through high school. Ronnie Anderson. Closest I ever got to him was about three showers away in gym class.” I laughed at the memory. “Jesus, he was hot.”

“He’s prolly bald and fat by now.”

“Actually, he’s married with three kids and an ugly wife. Still hot, though.”

Evan chuckled. We went another couple blocks before he said, “Do you ever wish you weren’t queer?”

His voice was very quiet, and the question left me momentarily speechless. The implications of Evan wishing he weren't gay were something I didn't even want to think about. But I knew how I felt about his question.

“No, never. Even before I really figured it out and hooked up for the first time, I didn’t regret liking boys. They seemed so much more…. familiar than girls, easier to be with. I felt like I’d know how to touch them, what to say, when I finally got the chance, whereas girls were pretty much a total mystery. Still are,” I added.

"You never fucked around with girls?"

I shook my head. "Never had enough curiosity. Or time," I chuckled. "I was too busy jerkin’ off and chasin’ boys to bother. You did, though, huh?"

"Yeah, in college. No one knew me there, so I started dating girls. An avoidance thing, I suppose."

"And.…"

Another one-shouldered shrug. "It was all right. I wasn't ready to get serious about anyone, which for me meant boys, so girls were safe, you know? No emotions, just a warm hole."

"Jesus, dude."

"Cold, huh?” He laughed humorlessly. “It didn't last long. I finally hooked up with a guy in the library; the blow-jobs were great, but I couldn't fuck him, and after that my dick quit working with the ladies, too. So.… I went back to boys."

I couldn't think of any intelligent reply to that, so I kept quiet. We'd covered a lot of ground by then, emotionally and geographically, turning an occasional corner, and now I recognized the opposite end of Evan's block. We strolled past my Jeep, and up the steps to Evan's front door. He paused on the porch, turning to me with a smile. "That was nice. My mom walks a lot, and I used to go with her when I was a kid." He chuckled at some memory. "But then I got busy with my friends, and it wasn't 'cool' to do anything with your parents."

We went in to bed, kissing at first, but ending up head to toe sucking each other off. It didn't take us long, being so new together still. I tickled his hole with a wet finger, trying to keep my mind on the job while he licked my balls and worked my dick with one hand. When I quit sucking his cock to pant, he intensified his efforts until I rewarded him with a thick load sprayed all over his chest. When I could breathe again, I finished him off with my finger in his ass and his prick buried in my throat.

Evan was up before me Sunday morning. I heard the clickety-click of his keyboard as I got up to piss and pull my jeans on. When I found him, he was sitting at his desk in boxers, scratching his chest and reading email. He was in profile to me, so I could see only the side of his face, concentrating as he read. I stepped up behind him, dropped my arms around his shoulders, and kissed the top of his head. He gave a pleased 'mmmmm' and tipped his head back into my chest as I kissed my way down the side of his face.

"Morning," he said. His voice was gravelly with sleep, his hair stuck up on one side, and my gut tightened with a sudden, sharp longing for this to be the start of every day. Let it always be this good, this — vital.

I wasn't even sure that was possible. Maybe time and familiarity always dimmed the first flush of new love, the surety that you're the only two people who've ever felt this way, that the angels in heaven must sigh with envy when they see how in love you are.

“Hi,” I replied.

“I’m about done here. You hungry?”

“Mm-hm,” I mumbled as I started gnawing on his bare shoulder.

He began to giggle, trying to shove me away, which only made me go after him more. I didn’t quit until he fell out of the chair onto his back, knees drawn up, laughing wildly and trying to cover his stomach with his arms. I let go of him as I sank down straddling his hips, leaning back against his bent legs and settling down into his crotch. I watched him as he regained his composure, scrubbing his face with his hands. He finally blew out a long breath and opened his eyes to me as he gripped my thighs. His eyes were smoky gray, full of emotion, and his voice was a little tentative when he spoke.

“This is so good. Are you…. Does it seem like that to you?”

I took a loose hold on his wrists, sliding my hands up and down his forearms as I replied. “Yeah…. yeah, it is good, Evan. Real good.”

I released his arms and ran my hands up his bare torso, spreading my fingers across his chest so that, one by one, the fingers of each hand slid across his nipples. As they tightened, so did his expression, until he was staring at me with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. I put some weight on my hands, leaning forward to kiss him lightly, barely brushing his mouth. He lifted his head to increase the contact, but I moved away just enough that he couldn’t reach me. When he relaxed back down, I kissed him again, tickling the corner of his mouth with my tongue, then sliding it along the seam of his lips. He didn’t come after me that time, just closed his eyes and moaned softly. His cock began to fill, pushing my balls aside as it thickened. I rose slightly on my knees to give him room, grinning when he lifted his hips to grind against me.

I scooted back a little and pulled the front of his shorts down, letting go of the elastic an inch or two below his nuts so that it snapped up under them. His body jerked slightly, and he groaned then - a long, low noise deep in his throat that wiped the smile off my face and fired up my dick. I sucked his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head, slurping a little as I let my spit spill down his shaft into my fist. I twisted my grip back and forth as I followed my mouth up and down his steely hard cock. In under a minute he was pumping into it, his hands clenched on my shoulders, eyes shut tight, teeth bared.

I edged him right up to it, then released him entirely and sat up. He thrust into empty air a couple times before he realized I wasn’t there. His expression was tortured astonishment when he raised his head to look at me.

“What the fuck are you doin’? Don’t quit now!” His voice was desperate.

“I’m hungry,” I whined, trying not to smile.

“I don’t give a fuck – you can eat later. Pleeease,” he begged when I just sat there. “Oh, God,” he moaned as he gave up on me and grabbed himself, stroking quickly, “I gotta cum.” I pulled his hand off, replacing it with my own, as he groaned in relief. “Nnnnh, yeah.”

I brought him back up with my hand, teasing him with a loose grip and slow strokes mixed up with some serious pumping. When his nuts were pulled up tight to either side of his cock, almost out of sight, I bent to engulf him again, coming up off the tip of his dick each time until he exploded in my mouth. If the noises he made were any indication, it was a great orgasm. He thrashed around beneath me, bucking up off the carpet as he shot all over himself.

I watched him as he lay there getting his breath back. After a few minutes, a slow smile started on his mouth, spreading until he was grinning at me as he opened his eyes. I smiled back as he put his fingers in my belt loops and pulled himself to a sitting position.

"That was great, thanks," he whispered against my mouth. "But I gotta get ready."

He kissed me, then pushed on my chest until I stood up, grabbing my hands to get to his feet. We showered, and I put my stuff in my bag as I watched Evan get dressed and pack. He seemed to already have his mind on business, methodically folding shirts and tucking socks and shorts into his suitcase, his face sober and thoughtful.

"How you gettin' to the airport?" I asked as he tucked his shirt into his slacks.

"The other guy who's going is gonna pick me up."

"I can take you. It's on the way."

He studied my face for a moment before nodding, and then made a quick call to cancel his ride. Eventually we were headed out the front door. I tried to stay up, but leaving Evan was really difficult, and I was pretty quiet on the drive to the airport. He didn't say much either, just put a hand on my thigh and stared out the window until we pulled up in front of the terminal. We sat there for a second, neither of us wanting to make the first move at getting out of the car. If we stayed right where we were, we could pretend the weekend wasn't over.

But it was, and after a minute or two, he sighed heavily and stepped out onto the curb. We met at the back of the Jeep, taking his bag and briefcase out and setting them on the sidewalk between us. Our eyes met then, his dark in his pale face, mine trying to memorize his features. Were we gonna shake hands? Hug?

Evan gave me a sweet smile, just one side of his mouth curling up in a way that squeezed the breath out of me. Then he stepped over the luggage and pulled me into a full-body hug. I grabbed him tight, and buried my face in his shoulder, startled by the emotions pouring through me. He patted my back as he held me.

"I'll see you Friday," he said softly into my ear. "Thanks for coming down here on such short notice. It was really good to see you." Then he kissed my neck, released me gently, picked up his bags, and turned toward the terminal. I remember Callie telling me it was bad luck to watch a departing loved one until they were out of sight, so I turned away and climbed back in the car.

Chewy was glad to see me when I got home, and Callie gave me a container of cookies and a sympathetic smile. It was only early afternoon, so I hit the gym hard, did laundry, cleaned up the house some, washed the Jeep, went to the grocery store - everything I could think of to keep myself busy. I was just settling onto the back deck with a couple cookies and a book when my cell rang.

"Hi." His voice was quiet and a little breathless.

"Hi. Where are you?"

"Hiking through the terminal. Our flight was delayed, so we just got in." A PA announcement blared in the background and he paused till it finished. "I just wanted to hear your voice. That's all," he added, sounding a little embarrassed.

I was grinning into my cell. Yeah, Callie - he likes me.

"That's enough," I replied. "Thanks for callin’."

"Yeah." He hesitated before adding, "Miss you already."

"Me, too."

"Yeah, well.… Bye."

"Bye."

I snapped the phone shut, and stared out into the yard as Evan's words miss you.… warmed me. Chewy barked then, a quick, sharp sound that brought me out of my reverie. He was facing the side of the house, and as I glanced at him, Mark came into view. He stopped at the gate when he saw me.

"There you are," he said. "I rang the bell a few times, then figured you might be back here."

"Hey." I didn't want company, his particularly, so I wasn't pleased when he came through the gate and up the steps. Chewy backed away a few feet, growling deep in his throat as the ruff on the back of his neck stood up.

"What's the matter with your mutt?"

"Chewy, c'mere." He sidled over to press against my leg, the growl still rumbling in his chest. I petted him as I turned back to Mark who had helped himself to a seat next to me, and was sending his smarmy smile my way.

Why had he looked so good that one night? What's that country song? Even ugly girls look good at closing time? Guess that applied to dudes, too.

"So.…" he began, "You ain't been around much lately, thought you might like some company."

I couldn't plead anything urgent since I was obviously relaxing, so I said, "Well, I've been pretty busy, and I was just gonna hang out here tonight and go to bed early."

His smile widened. "Excellent."

"Look, Mark, I'm involved with the guy from the dog park."

"You tellin' me you aren't interested?" He clamped a hand to my crotch, massaging my dick with the rough competency I remembered from our one night together.

I stood up abruptly, knocking my book to the deck. Chewy barked. "Get the fuck outta here."

He stood to face me, his expression cold. "What, are you in love or something? Get real, Caldwell, you're the biggest cock hound I know."

"Not anymore.” It was an effort to keep my voice steady. “Get outta here."

"'Not anymore,' my ass," he mimicked me as he strolled down the steps. "Well, you know where to find me when you come to your senses and want some dick."

When the gate banged shut behind him, I sank back down on the bench, pulling Chew into my lap. As I hugged him to me, I stared unseeingly through the deck rails, thinking about what Mark had accused me of.

I used to be a cock hound, pre Evan. Now I was almost a boyfriend.

Wasn't I?