by A. M. Riley
“He went into the garage with Scott.”
Paul looked out the back window. “Did he?”
“You’ve got quite the busy home life here, Paul. I’m surprised. I thought you were sworn to bachelorhood.”
Paul lifted a shoulder, looking chagrined. “So did I, but…you’ve met Brian.”
“Always thought I was the one who would end up with a domestic situation,” said Freddie, fully meaning it both ways.
Jim came back into the dining room, carrying napkins. “Freddie, if you really meant that offer of help, I’d appreciate somebody going into the kitchen and stirring the spaghetti sauce so that it doesn’t burn. Whoa, there, Paul!” he added as Paul was about to slip away. “There’s a load of towels in the hamper ready to fold. Please put those and sheets on the table by the sofa.”
* * * *
His headache reduced to a dull throb that Joshua knew he could now quell with aspirin, Joshua went into the kitchen for water and found the dark-eyed man in there stirring a pot on the stove.
He got a glass down from the cupboard and filled it with water, trying not to stare.
“Hello again, Joshua,” said the man. “How is your headache?”
“Better, thank you, sir,” said Joshua. He drank his water.
“Jim asked me to help while you lie down. We’ll be eating soon. Are you hungry?”
Joshua shook his head. The thought of sitting at table with three strangers, all of whom knew Scott and Jim better than he, was too difficult at the moment.
The man turned to the pot, still stirring. He’d taken off his jacket and wore a cotton shirt tucked into those tight jeans. The black boots at the bottom of his ensemble had the chains across the bridge and around the heel, and the whole outfit reminded Joshua of the only other type of nomadic man he had encountered in his life besides cowboys.
“You a biker?” he asked.
The man looked surprised. “I was. I’m a teacher now.”
Joshua swallowed more water. “What do you teach?”
“Literature.”
“That like, books and stuff?”
“Yes.”
There was another long silence, those green eyes reading him. Frederick couldn’t imagine what was going through Joshua’s head when the young man completely surprised him. “You teach poetry?”
“Poetry? Yes. Do you like poetry?”
“Yes, sir.”
Joshua got up from his chair and washed his glass carefully and thoroughly. Then he dried it and put it back in the cupboard. Then he cleaned off the sink.
Jim came in the kitchen. “Oh, Joshua. Are you feeling better? Good. Will you help me carry the food to the dining room?”
“Yes, Jim,” said Joshua.
“Thank you. Freddie, how’s that sauce?” Jim peeked into the pot. “Perfect. Joshua, please show Freddie where to find a sauce dish. I’ll call Paul.” He wandered off, and they could hear him calling.
“Paul, I hate to think what Brian and Scott are doing out there. Would you go bring them in to dinner?”
“The sauce dish is here,” said Joshua pulling it out and putting it on the counter near Freddie.
“Thank you, Joshua.”
“You’re welcome.”
He poured the sauce into the dish, and Joshua carried it carefully out of the room. Jim came hurrying in past him.
“Oh, good. Well, I guess we’re ready to sit down. So you met Joshua?”
“I don’t know,” said Freddie.
Jim gave him a sharp look.
“He’s very polite,” said Freddie.
“Yes, he is. Most of the time. He’s still waters, is that young man.”
“Really?”
“I’ve lived in a house with him for almost a month, and he’s only opened up to me once, and that was a full-fledged temper tantrum.”
Freddie looked at the doorway through which Joshua had disappeared. “Seems hard to imagine.”
“Scott knows him a little better, and he says Joshua is just cautious. He claims that Joshua can talk your ear off. I think the boy is a little intimidated by me, so I believe Scott.”
“Hmmm.”
“I’ll seat you next to him,” said Jim blithely. And left the kitchen.
* * * *
Dinner was interesting.
Freddie wondered if any couple he knew had ever established a dynamic like the one he was watching in this house. Brian and Paul he had understood. But adding Jim to the equation and then Scott complicated things exponentially.
There was a relationship between Brian and Scott that was obviously sensual and probably consummated. Jim had a definitely toppish attitude toward his übermacho friend, Paul. Brian flirted outrageously with Jim. And he frequently saw Paul looking at Scott with the stunned expression of a man whose cock was sucking all the blood from his brain.
It boggled the mind, was what it did.
“Please pass the spaghetti?” said Joshua from beside him. The young man sat otherwise quietly. Back straight, napkin in his lap, elbows primly at his sides as he ate slowly, watching everyone at the table with wide eyes.
Well, Freddie couldn’t blame him. This group had to be intimidating. He brought the bowl over, and when Joshua served himself one tiny little spoonful, Freddie took the serving spoon from him and gave the kid a little more.
“You should drink your milk,” he said automatically.
Joshua blinked. Then he picked up his milk and drank it.
“So,” said Freddie, “how do you like California?”
Joshua looked up at him again. There was intelligence in that gaze. The kid wasn’t a dozy cow, but Freddie could see the caution there that Scott had spoken of.
“Fine, sir. I like it fine.”
“I’m new here myself,” said Freddie. “It’s strange being a stranger, isn’t it?”
Joshua looked down at his plate, and Freddie could see Joshua’s ears turning red. He mentally kicked himself and said, “Maybe we can talk Paul into taking us to the beach. Can’t wait to see some of that surfing.”
Joshua nodded, reaching for his milk.
“Would you like to come with us if we go?” asked Freddie. Better to give the kid yes and no questions, he figured.
“Yes, sir,” said Joshua.
Bingo.
Freddie looked across the table and saw Jim watching him. He smiled, and Jim raised an eyebrow and turned to ask Brian a question.
When the meal was over, all five men cleared the table in what appeared to be a well-established routine. Jim wandered off by himself somewhere, and Brian and Scott and Joshua apparently decided to play soccer in the yard.
Paul sat back on the sofa and heaved an enormous sigh.
“Tired?” said Freddie, sitting across from him.
“Relieved,” said Paul. “There’s always an adjustment period for Brian. He was pretty tightly wound our last few days in New York.”
“I’m surprised to hear that,” said Freddie. “He seems very comfortable.”
“He frets,” said Paul.
“Ah.”
“He and Scott haven’t seen each other much in the past six months.”
Freddie thought how best to ask the question that had been niggling at him. “Are they close?”
“Scott and Brian?” Paul seemed to be amused by something. “I’m sorry, Freddie. I really never told you, did I?”
Told him? Freddie had known Paul for quite some time. For a second, his mind spun with all the possible things that Paul could not have told him. It was daunting.
“I suppose you haven’t.”
Paul laughed. “Christ. I’m sorry. We”—he indicated the general vicinity of the house with his hand—“are all, as you say, close.”
Freddie absorbed this. Then he got it. Then, for the first time in about twenty years, he blushed.
Paul was still laughing. “Believe it or not, I’m so used to it I hadn’t thought to explain it to you.”
“Well, I thank God you have. I
was a little confused.”
Paul shook his head, still chuckling at himself.
“And Joshua? Is he…”
“Oh. No, he’s a friend that Scott brought home.”
Freddie thought of the young man seated at the table, so definitely an outsider, watching that intimate family circle.
“I see,” he said.
* * * *
“Score!” yelled Scott, and he did his little victory dance.
Brian whistled appreciatively. “Hey, sexy, shake that thing over here.” He picked up the ball and ran to the sideline. “Heads up, Joshua,” he called out and kicked the ball to him.
Joshua was able to handle the ball a little bit, going the other direction, before Scott got it away from him again.
“Hey, that was a foul,” yelled Brian, giving chase.
Brian and Joshua were teamed against Scott, Scott definitely being the superior soccer player. Not that they were really playing a game. Scott and Brian seemed to be using the game as an excuse to maul each other, every successive play becoming more and more physical until, finally, as Joshua stopped running and watched, Brian actually tackled Scott to the ground and started kissing him right there in the middle of the lawn.
The ball fell from Scott’s hand, and he wrapped his arms around Brian and kissed him back.
Joshua didn’t know what to do.
He saw Scott gazing up at Brian with a serious expression and heard Brian say, softly, “God, I missed you.” Then Brian kissed Scott again. Joshua could hear Scott moaning into the kiss.
Joshua spun on his heel and ran into the house.
* * * *
“Fuck. Ow. Turn on the light.”
Brian giggled. “I don’t need a light. I’ve found what I’m looking for.” And his fingers wriggled down into Scott’s boxers.
Scott grinned in the dark and tussled a bit until he had Brian’s pants down around his ankles. He could feel Brian’s head pushing between his thighs as he painted a trail across Brian’s stomach with his tongue.
“Ohmmm, ohmmm.” Brian came off Scott’s cock long enough to whisper, “I’d forgotten what you taste like.”
Scott was too busy drawing Brian into his throat to answer.
Later, lying beside Brian, still in the dark rec room, Scott whispered. “Oh crap. Joshua.”
“Do you think we embarrassed him or something?”
“Or something,” said Scott. “Jim’s gonna have words with me if he finds out.”
“Would he tell?”
“I don’t think so.” Scott drifted, pushed his nose behind Brian’s ear, ran his hand up Brian’s chest. He encountered the collar, and he said, “Hey, I saw some naughty pictures of you with this.”
“Yeah.”
“He really does have you on a leash.”
“Hmmm,” said Brian. “Thing is, he’s at one end of that leash, and I’m at the other. Only difference is my end of the leash is pretty.”
“My hero,” said Scott. “You are the überbrat baby.”
* * * *
“Hey, buddy, can I come in?”
Jim looked up from where he sat in the middle of a bean bag chair like a bearded caterpillar, smoking his bong. “Hi, Paul.”
Paul perched on the end of the waterbed and took the bong when it was offered. He inhaled a bit and said, “You okay?”
“I am very glad to see you home.”
“Rough week?”
Jim shook his head, inhaling deeply. Paul figured if his friend didn’t smoke pot, he could probably sing opera with that lung capacity.
“What do you think of Joshua?” said Jim, smoke trailing from the corners of his mouth.
“I haven’t really talked to him yet.”
Jim nodded. “He’s avoiding you.”
“Really?” said the six-feet-four bald and tattooed man. “Why do you think he’d want to avoid me?”
Jim just looked at him. He set down his bong. “I’m not sure what to do about him.”
“Oh, Jim,” said Paul. “Why do you feel like you have to do something about every stray bird that falls at your doorstep?”
“This stray bird flew into the house and sat at the end of my sofa and sang,” said Jim, “to flog the metaphor to death.” He stood and emptied the bong.
Paul rested his chin on his hand. “Freddie seems intrigued by him.”
“Yes,” said Jim. “I noticed that too.”
“I’ll try to talk to him,” said Paul. “I’ll tell you what I think.”
“Thank you.”
“So where is he?”
“Last I saw he was in the backyard playing soccer with Brian and Scott.”
“I’ll go look for him.”
* * * *
Brian and Scott were coming out of the rec room when Paul checked the backyard. They were untucked and loose and happy and walking draped around each other with no Joshua in sight, so he went back down the hallway and found Scott’s bedroom door closed. He knocked.
“Come in?” said a voice, and Paul opened the door a crack and peeked inside.
“Hello, Joshua.”
An apparently startled Joshua jumped off the bed and stood bolt upright in the middle of the floor.
“May I come in?” said Paul.
“Yes, sir,” said Joshua. He looked like he was ready to snap a salute.
“Please, sit down,” said Paul.
Joshua immediately sat.
“I haven’t had a chance to really talk to you,” said Paul. “And I thought it might be nice to introduce myself without all the others around.”
“Yes, sir,” said Joshua.
Paul wasn’t sure how to get Joshua to relax. Of course, if he told him to relax, he imagined Joshua would immediately do so. So he just sat on the bed and said, “I understand you work with livestock?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, that’s interesting. Is that something you want to do as a career?”
Now that Paul looked at him closely, he could see that the Joshua’s eyes were swollen and he had that pinched expression that he’d had earlier in the day.
“Is your headache back?” he asked kindly.
Joshua shook his head. He swallowed hard and said, “No, sir. I’m…I’m just tired, I guess.”
Wow. A whole sentence. Paul felt like he was tormenting the man, so he stood and said, “Well, if there’s anything you want or need…”
“Thank you, sir. Everyone is being very nice, sir.”
Good Lord. “Good night, then,” said Paul. And he gently shut the door behind himself.
* * * *
He stopped by Jim’s room, but Scott was there now, lying next to Jim, apparently having an intimate conversation. Paul leaned in the doorjamb, aware that his friends would have shut the door if they wanted privacy, and just enjoyed the sight of them.
They lay belly to belly, their legs crossed over each other’s. Jim’s dark brown body hair contrasted nicely with Scott’s golden.
Scott, head propped on one hand, talked softly, his entire attention on Jim, who listened rapt to whatever Scott was saying. Scott’s fingers groomed and twirled Jim’s beard. Jim’s arm stroked Scott’s chest, occasionally brushing over the gold ring in Scott’s nipple that matched his own. Their faces glowed in the pool of lamplight.
“Good night,” said Paul to them both.
“Shut the door?” said Jim, his eyes still on Scott.
Paul closed it quietly behind himself.
* * * *
“Hi, Daddy.” Brian put down the magazine he’d been reading. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, naked and seemingly completely unselfconscious.
Paul still felt his body warm, some engine turning over deep inside, when he saw his lover’s nude form.
He sat on the bed to take off his boots, and Brian crawled over, wrapping himself around Paul’s back and shoulders.
“You must be exhausted,” said Paul cautiously.
“I am,” Brian admitted. “But I won’t fee
l like I’m home till you’ve fucked me on our bed.”
“I see.” Paul removed his jeans and hung them over the chair, then turned to Brian, cradling his body, settling between his legs when Brian opened them.
He leaned down and kissed Brian, openmouthed. Their tongues played lazily, their lips sliding to chins and cheeks and back again. Brian’s hand played on the back of Paul’s neck, over his ear, squeezed his shoulder muscle as they rocked gently against each other.
Easy, slow, knowing how this would end, and enjoying the journey as much as its destination, Paul and Brian rolled so Brian sat astride Paul, his mouth on Paul’s pectorals, licking the tattoos. Then they rolled again, Paul lifting Brian’s leg and just sliding his hard and oozing cock under Brian’s balls, loving the heat there, feeling Brian swell against him also, slowly.
Paul looked at him knowingly. “Did you and Scott talk?”
Brian grinned. “Yeah, Daddy. We talked.”
Paul rolled him again, and now he lay between Brian’s thighs, the one leg lifted, his thrusts gaining purpose. He burrowed against Brian’s neck and sucked a small mark there.
Brian arched. “Oh.”
Paul lifted Brian’s other leg and found the tube of lube that lay on the bed. He pushed in a little. His boyfriend was wet and warm already and seemed more than ready for Paul. “You feel better now?” he said.
“I was afraid it would be weird. But he’s still Scott, and I’m still me. Yes, I feel better.”
“Good,” said Paul in Brian’s ear as he found Brian’s entrance and slid in.
And then they didn’t talk for a while. In the end, Brian’s heat equaled his own, neck arched back, gasping breaths, both hands on the headboard as Paul thrust against him.
Paul felt Brian come without having been touched. The warm wet spread between their bellies, and Paul sank against him, loving the feel of it as he shuddered and came deep inside Brian.
“Welcome home, Brian,” he said before he slept.
* * * *
The sofa bed was remarkably comfortable, but Freddie had spent many years sleeping on the ground next to his Harley, so he wouldn’t have minded much worse. The house was quiet with that occasional settling sound that old houses had, a sound as comforting as an old lady’s rocking chair. And after the bumps and moans from Paul and Brian’s room stopped, Freddie sat up against the cushions and read one of his favorite books.
