by Drew Hunt
“I’m here.” Steve ran a thumb along Milton’s lower lip. “I made friends with you because I wanted to. Not because JJ or Maggie told me to. It was my choice. And I’m glad I made that choice. You’re a great guy.” The thumb moved to swipe under Milton’s right eye.
“But JJ and Maggie. They…” Milton let out a breath.
“They thought they were doing the right thing. Come on, they’re straight, they did their best.”
Milton smiled, prompting Steve to do the same.
Kiss me! Milton silently pleaded.
Steve sighed and pulled Milton’s head to rest on his broad shoulder. “I’m an athlete. There are certain…expectations of athletes. And my mom has expectations, too. It isn’t easy being me.” He began to rub circles on Milton’s back. “Sorry. I know it isn’t easy for you, either. I’m not trying to make excuses.”
“I understand.” And Milton thought he really did.
“You okay with me holding you like this?”
Milton was very okay with it. “I am if you are.”
Steve worked his other arm under Milton’s side and pulled the smaller guy in even closer.
God, he has an awesome chest. And his arms are so strong. Milton ran his hands up Steve’s arms. And his shoulders are so broad.
“Maggie and JJ. They’re good people.”
“Uh huh.” But as far as Milton was concerned, the jury was still out.
“The two of them pretty much dragged me to that meeting at the diner. I thought I was okay just living life as I was, lonely but happy…well, relatively happy. But Maggie, she’s persistent—”
Milton couldn’t help his smile; she certainly was.
“And she’s right. I am lonely and I need friends. Sunday at the Javits Center was awesome. Thanks to you.” Steve gave Milton a bone-crushing hug.
Before Milton could react, Steve rolled away, but thankfully didn’t go far. He couldn’t, not on Milton’s narrow twin bed.
“Shit, I got my cape tangled. How do these caped crusaders sit or lie down anyway?”
Milton shook his head as he watched Steve untangle himself, amused at the big jock’s antics.
Once he’d pulled it clear, Steve cuddled back into Milton and draped the cape over the two of them.
“You okay with this?” Steve whispered into Milton’s hair.
Milton let out an involuntary shudder.
“Cold?”
Milton shook his head and gripped Steve tighter. It would be hell saying goodbye at the end of the evening, knowing this would probably be his one and only time to be in bed—okay, on a bed—with Steve.
In the street a fire truck blasted its horn and wailed its siren.
Milton closed his eyes and imagined Steve climbing out of the window and, after making sure Milton had a firm hold, launching the two of them into the night to rescue the people in the burning building. They would weave around the skyscrapers, then dip down low over the Hudson before shooting straight up into the sky to give Milton an aerial view of Manhattan.
“I’ve always felt like I was in JJ’s shadow. I mean, the guy is perfect. He’s handsome, beautiful even, he’s smart, popular, has—”
“Enough.” Milton nudged Steve’s shoulder. “You’re popular, intelligent.” Milton swallowed, getting up his nerve. “And you’re just as handsome and beautiful as he is.” Maybe even more.
Steve gave him another tight squeeze. “You’re good for a guy’s ego.”
Milton would have added that he was speaking the truth, but his momentary courage had deserted him. So instead he settled for a simple “You’re welcome.”
“You’re pretty special, too.”
Milton snorted. “I’m a runt.”
Steve rubbed the back of Milton’s neck. “You might not be able to bench press three hundred but you’re a powerhouse of emotional strength.”
Milton huffed.
“Come on, how many other guys could put up with the shit you do and still come out smiling?”
“Don’t have a choice. And I haven’t done that much smiling recently.”
“You were smiling every time I looked over at you Sunday.”
“So were you,” Milton said, remembering yet again Steve’s captivating smile.
“You make me smile.”
Milton let out a sigh. He needed to know something, but was afraid of the answer. “How long can you stay?”
“As long as you need.”
Milton drew comfort from Steve’s immediate response. He was too chicken to ask if Steve would visit again. He knew if he did, it would have to be under cover of darkness. Steve would never acknowledge their…whatever it was that they had, at school. Could Milton cope with a friendship based upon secrecy? Didn’t he deserve someone who would give all of himself, just like Milton would? On the other hand, being lonely all the time sucked.
Milton heard a growling sound from Steve’s stomach.
“Sorry,” Steve said. “Haven’t eaten much today. Been too nervous.”
“About what?”
“You.”
How could such a hot jock like Steve be afraid of someone like him? Milton found the big guy’s vulnerability endearing.
Rolling off the bed, Milton held out a hand. “Come on.”
Steve looked up at him with a questioning expression.
“I’m going to feed you.”
“Feed me, as in cook food for me?”
Milton smiled at Steve’s hopeful, puppy-dog expression. “Yes, as in real food, cooked on a stove.”
Steve stood. Using his pointer finger, Milton traced the S on Steve’s chest, the T-shirt doing little to hide the ridges of hard muscle.
Steve’s stomach growled again.
Milton remembered a conversation he’d had with Calvin—JJ’s other dad—about how the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Milton doubted he could capture Steve’s heart, but…no way would he send the guy home hungry. His mom would never forgive him.
* * * *
“But I thought you were Jewish,” Steve said, eyeing the package of bacon Milton had just taken out of the fridge.
“A lot of people make that mistake,” Milton said, smiling at Steve over his shoulder. “My dad’s Jewish, hence Katz, but my mom’s a gentile.”
“And being Jewish is passed down through the female line.” Steve smiled.
“Exactly. Now, sit on that stool.” Milton pointed. “Sitting there shouldn’t mess with your cape.”
“Maybe I should take it off.” Steve reached for his neck, but before he could unsnap the cape, Milton’s hands were there, staying him.
“Don’t you dare.”
Steve smiled. “Your wish is my command.”
Milton blushed. Steve thought that was just the cutest look on the guy. He so wanted to kiss Milton, had wanted to when they’d been in Milton’s room. Heck, Steve had wanted to lay a smooch on him at the Javits Center Sunday.
Milton moved to the stove and pulled an iron skillet out of the oven. “Spanish omelet okay?”
“Great.” Steve’s stomach growled its agreement.
As Milton cooked, Steve took a look around the apartment’s kitchen. It was really small, maybe not much bigger than his pantry at home. But the room felt comfortable, well used and lived in. His kitchen, heck, his whole house, felt…sterile. His mom rarely cooked, and when she did, she fixed whatever was supposed to be the latest superfood. It generally tasted like crap.
“Here you go, I can make another if you’re still hungry afterward,” Milton said, placing a plate in front of him containing a perfectly folded large omelet, two slices of thick whole wheat toast, and some salad fixings. Next came silverware, and a large glass of orange juice. “Sorry, it’s more like a breakfast…Mom hasn’t been to the store yet.”
“It looks fantastic. Thank you.” Steve caught Milton’s wrist before he could move away. Positioning the smaller teen between his spread knees, Steve looked up at him. “Thank you.”
Milton smiled
. “A superhero has to keep his strength up.” Milton blushed. “Crap, I forgot the salsa.”
Before Steve could stop him, Milton was at the fridge. He came back with a small bowl.
“Homemade?”
“But of course.” Milton smiled.
Steve spooned some of the salsa on top of the omelet, then cut into it. “Wow,” he said, chewing. “This is great.” He swallowed and took a gulp of orange juice. Milton was watching from over by the counter. “You not eating?”
“I’ll fix myself something later, I’m not very hungry.”
“There’s plenty here. Bring a plate over and we can share.”
Milton shook his head. “No, honestly. I had something with Mom not long before you arrived.”
Steve shrugged, not totally believing him. But if the guy said he wasn’t hungry, then…
“This is really great. You planning to be a chef after college?”
“Ha, yeah. Not even sure I’ll be going to college.”
Steve swallowed another mouthful and was about to ask why, but realized they probably couldn’t afford the tuition. But weren’t there scholarships Milton could apply for? And how did he afford to go to Empire Prep?
Approaching the subject delicately, Steve asked, “Have you spoken to the guidance counselor about college?”
Milton shrugged. “Yeah, some.”
Steve decided not to say any more. It was none of his business, anyway.
Milton turned to the sink and started to do dishes. A quick glance around showed Steve that the Katz’s didn’t have a dishwasher.
“Hey, I’ll do those in a minute,” Steve said after swallowing more juice.
“It’s fine.” Milton looked over his shoulder and gave Steve a smile that did something to Steve’s insides. “I know where everything goes. You just sit there and finish your meal.”
Steve continued to stare at Milton’s back, noticing once again how cute, round, and tight his ass looked. Steve’s plate of food was momentarily forgotten. This small guy who everyone at school either ignored—Steve winced, knowing he’d been one of them—or teased, had a heart of gold. Steve had seen glimpses of this Sunday, but now…
“Is it all right?” Milton asked, looking worried.
Steve shook his head to clear it. “It’s fine. Just pacing myself. You serve large portions.”
“Like I said, a superhero has to keep his strength up.”
Steve looked down at his plate. Despite the costume, he knew he was no superhero. His actions of Monday demonstrated that. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I can reheat it in the morning for my breakf—”
“I meant I’m sorry for what happened Monday.”
Milton’s fingers touched Steve’s right cheek. “I know,” he said so softly, Steve wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t seen the guy’s lips form the words.
Steve wanted to leap up, pull Milton close and promise to protect him forever, but he knew he couldn’t make those kinds of promises. He hated his weakness and indecision. Milton deserved someone so much better than him.
“Do you want me to wrap this up so you can take it with you? I’d like you to stay longer, but it’s getting late, and this neighborhood isn’t the best, even for caped crusaders.” Milton smiled.
Steve looked up at the wall clock. It was well past ten. Sighing, Steve said he’d finish the omelet. “This thing,” he gestured at his costume, “doesn’t have pockets.”
As he finished his food, Milton made a pot of coffee. “It’s okay, it’s decaf.”
“Thanks.” Steve began to eat slower; despite the time, he didn’t want to leave Milton on his own. Heck, he didn’t want to leave Milton, period.
“There’s brownies if you want dessert,” Milton announced, taking Steve’s plate.
“Oh, I—”
“I made them myself yesterday, from scratch.”
Milton’s smile brought Steve to his feet. He cupped Milton’s face and stared into the guy’s blinking brown eyes. Steve had resisted the temptation all evening, but couldn’t stop himself any longer. He leaned down and was about to kiss Milton when they heard a phone ring in another room.
“Sorry, I better get that,” Milton said breathlessly, not breaking eye contact. “It might be my mom.”
Steve nodded and dropped his hands to his sides.
Milton left the room and seconds later the ringing stopped. Steve looked around. The room had suddenly gotten really warm. Spying a roll of paper towels on top of the fridge he walked over, tore off a couple of squares and wiped his face.
“Damn,” Milton said, coming back into the room. “It was a stupid telemarketer. You’d think they wouldn’t be allowed to call this late.”
“No,” Steve agreed, knowing the moment was lost. He sighed. “I suppose you’re right, it is late and I…” he shrugged, not wanting to say the words.
“I know.”
Neither of them made a move for the door.
“I’ve had a great evening…really enjoyed myself,” Steve said. “And once again, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. And thank you. Thank you for coming. I’ve enjoyed it, too.” Milton bit his lip as if he was stopping himself from saying more.
“Well I…” Steve gestured at the kitchen door.
Milton nodded and walked out of the room, Steve following him to the front door, where he picked up his coat and began to put it on.
Once he’d pulled up the zipper and looked behind himself to make sure nothing was hanging down, Steve turned to Milton. “Well, I guess I should go.”
Milton bit his lip again, sighed, and simply said, “Yeah.” He reached for and turned the two locks. Facing Steve, the door still closed, Milton said, “Thank you for wearing the costume. You look really great in it.”
“Thanks.”
The two stood awkwardly, staring at each other, Steve wanting to say so much but too afraid to.
Milton shook his head, turned and opened the door. “Be safe.”
“I will, thanks.” Steve stepped into the outer hallway and turned to face Milton, who stood in the doorway looking uncertain, still biting his lip.
“Milton.”
“Steve.” They both said at the same time. They chuckled.
“You first,” Steve said.
Milton looked at the floor for a moment before meeting Steve’s eyes once again. “I was just going to thank you again for coming.”
Steve knew that wasn’t what Milton would have said. “Thanks.” He smiled. “Look, do you want to hang out with me Sunday?”
Milton’s face lit up.
“You could come with me to JJ’s and watch sports with us.”
Milton’s happy expression dimmed. “Uh, I don’t—”
“We hang out, too, it’s not all jock talk. His dads will be there and they’re really cool.” And Mr. B. is a complete stud. Steve silently added,
“It isn’t that.” Milton looked uncomfortable. “It’s just, I don’t know what I think about JJ and Maggie and how they, uh.” He picked at the pocket of his sweats.
Steve took hold of Milton’s hands. “Honestly, I’m not just saying this because JJ’s my best friend, but he really is a stand-up guy.”
Steve could see Milton was giving it serious thought.
Finally a smile broke out on Milton’s face. He nodded. “Okay.”
“Really?” Steve said loudly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “That’s great!” he added at a more normal volume. “I’ll come pick you up, say about noon? We’ll grab something to eat then go to JJ’s.”
“Great.” Milton’s smile increased.
They continued to stare at each other and Steve’s urge to kiss Milton returned. He was about to reach out to him but stopped when he heard the ding of the elevator down the hallway.
“Thanks again,” Milton said, still staring at him.
“Yeah. Goodnight.” Steve turned and started toward the elevator. Maybe he’d be able to catch it while it was still on Milton�
�s floor.
“Steve?” Milton called out.
Steve turned back to find Milton just behind him. The little guy wrapped his arms around Steve and, standing on tip toe, laid a soft but brief kiss on Steve’s lips that went straight to Steve’s groin.
“Been wanting to do that all evening, but was too afraid,” Milton admitted, starting to drop his arms.
No! Steve’s mind moaned. He couldn’t leave it there, he needed more. Steve wrapped Milton up in a tight hug and began to return the kiss…with interest, crushing the smaller body into his, feasting hungrily on Milton’s lips.
“Oh, God,” Milton said once their lips parted for Steve to draw breath.
“Yeah,” Steve panted.
They held their embrace until they heard a door being unlocked further down the hallway.
Breaking apart, they continued to stare at each other while the neighbor passed them and stood waiting for the elevator. Steve couldn’t remember if anyone had gotten off the last time it had stopped at Milton’s floor, but then his mind had been focused on other things.
“See you Sunday,” Steve said.
“Yeah.” Milton smiled and turned for his apartment.
* * * *
“Any of you guys want a can of soda?” Mr. Brockwell asked, coming into the kitchen.
“No, thanks, Dad,” JJ said.
Milton and Steve, who were sitting either side of JJ at the kitchen table, shook their heads. Despite Steve’s assurances, Milton still had reservations about JJ and his motives in trying to get him and Steve together.
However, Milton’s thoughts were derailed when Mr. Brockwell bent at the waist to retrieve a can from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. For an older guy, JJ’s dad was pretty hot. His abs were barely contained in an old Texas Rangers T-shirt, the arms of which had been ripped away, showing off the guy’s huge biceps. And if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Brockwell’s ass looked totally edible in his faded-blue cutoff sweats.
A quiet noise had Milton momentarily glancing up. Steve, too, had his gaze fixed on Mr. Brockwell’s behind.
“Guys,” JJ groaned quietly. “Quit checking out my dad’s ass!”
Steve snickered.
Mr. Brockwell withdrew his head from the fridge, shut the door, and looked up. “The halftime show should be over soon.” He pulled the tab on his Sprite and took a long swallow.
