by HJ Welch
It was warm and salty and slid easily down his throat. “Yeah, gorgeous, take it,” Dean rasped, fucking into his mouth. “Oh Christ, gonna come down your pretty throat. You’ll like that, won’t you?”
Joey would. Rather than answer, he carried on bobbing his head. He used one hand to squeeze his fingers around the base, the other to tease his own prick just the way he liked, stroking the end with his fingertips.
Dean grunted and thrust faster, chasing his release. “Gonna come,” he whined. “Are you ready? Want to watch you swallow me.”
Joey nodded, looking up at him through his lashes, jerking himself off harder.
“Jesus, you’re so pretty,” said Dean, caressing his face. “Look at you, you little slut, you love it.”
Joey moaned, feeling his orgasm building. All it took were a few more thrusts, and Dean was shooting down his gullet. Joey only flinched briefly before sucking it down, drinking every last drop as he came too, over his shirt and the wall.
Dean panted and slumped backwards, letting his cock soften between Joey’s lips while he caught his breath. Joey wiped his mouth and struggled to his feet, tucking himself back in as he did.
“That was hot,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
Dean smiled and kissed him back. “It sure was.”
He pulled away to rearrange his junk and zipped up his fly. “Um,” said Joey. “Do you want a beer?”
Dean smirked and touched his thumb to Joey’s lip. “Thanks for a fun time, honey.” He checked his hair in the mirror then winked at him. “Catch you around.”
He sauntered to the door, letting himself out. He threw Joey a kiss over his shoulder, then he was gone.
Joey stood dumbly in his hall for a moment then crossed the carpet to secure the lock, chain and bolt.
That was fine, he’d only been looking for a bit of sex. And anyway, he only had a couple of beers left. It would have been a shame to waste one on a stranger.
He sighed and turned on the lights. The apartment was merely a single room with both bed and kitchenette in the same square space. A bathroom big enough for just a shower and a toilet was the only other room.
He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door. After kicking off his boots, he stripped off his spunk-covered shirt then headed to the fridge. He plucked one of the beer bottles out and a carton of milk, then grabbed the last of his cereal, a bowl and a spoon.
His body was still pleasantly thrumming from the orgasm as he nestled into his pillows and filled the bowl with off-brand Cinnamon Toast Crunch. As he poured some milk with one hand he pulled out his phone with the other. 11:53.
He sighed again, heavier this time, and looked around at his sparse apartment. He’d sold most everything of value, keeping hold of only sentimental things. A few photos were the predominate decoration on the walls. They were all old now though and looking at them made him feel sad rather than happy.
He shook his head and picked his phone back up. With a loud dance remix playing, he began munching on his cereal, trying to think about nothing but the melodies punching through the air around him. He tapped his foot to the beat and hummed along.
Sometimes life took you unexpected places. Sometimes life dragged you kicking and screaming where you didn’t want to go. Six months ago, he would never have thought he’d be all alone on a Saturday night, no job, no prospects, eating cereal for the fifth meal in a row.
Things could be worse, he knew. He just wasn’t sure how.
The song tapered out and he watched the clock on the phone tick down to midnight. As the numbers blinked over, the lights went out, plunging him back into the neon-bathed gloom.
Joey felt his throat constrict, but he refused to cry. He had no money left for bills, his rent was overdue, and he’d sold everything he could.
With a heavy heart, he ate the last bite of cereal and placed the bowl on the side. There was just one little stash of money he had left, the money that he’d held onto for the last five years, just in case. He’d always hoped he would never have to use it, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t fight it anymore.
He stood and rested his head on the glass window, looking out at the little sliver of L.A. he could see. The milk and grain churned unpleasantly in his stomach, but there was nothing for it. That money had only ever been intended for one thing, and he was now desperate enough to use it.
It was time to buy a ticket home.
2
Gabe
Gabe closed the front door and gently leaned his back against it, looking down the hallway of his home.
It was so quiet.
He inhaled very slowly, fighting the lump rising in his throat. This was for the best, he knew that. It didn’t make it much easier. But if he kept reminding himself this was ultimately what he wanted, he might be able to keep it together.
Dusk was settling and the house was gloomy, so he turned on every light as he moved through the rooms. He thought it might bring some warmth, some life to the space. All it did was highlight what was missing.
Lewis hadn’t taken much apart from his own, obvious possessions. His side of the wardrobe was bare, his tennis racket was gone from the spare room, his toiletries from the bathroom. They had agreed who would get what of their mutual items in emails devoid of personality over the past week.
Those messages had summed up their relationship in its dying days. No passion or anger or hurt. Just sad acceptance.
Lewis had always loved the Francesca DiMattio painting, so Gabe had been happy to let him take that. Lewis had tried to buy his half from him, but Gabe had argued he was keeping so many other things it balanced out. Even if money was a bit tight, it felt petty to demand payment for a work of art that had once brought them both joy.
Money seemed so trivial as he sat on the bed, their bed. He ran his hand over the comforter and decided one of his first tasks tomorrow would be to replace the bedding. They hadn’t had sex in so long, but there had been many happy moments between these sheets. He needed a fresh start.
Gabe let out a shaky sigh and looked at the ceiling, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. He and Lewis weren’t the same people they’d been in their early twenties. Over the past five years they’d changed to want different things, to have different dreams.
Gabe snorted and stood up, running his hand through his hair. That wasn’t true. Gabe had always known what he’d wanted. It was Lewis that had outstripped him, reaching higher and higher with his career. There was only so much a town like Greenwich could offer him, and only so much even its biggest law firm could offer in interesting cases. Lewis was meant for greater things. It was no wonder the bright lights of New York City had lured him away eventually.
He’d been a fool to think their love would be enough reason to stay.
It made Gabe wonder if it really was love. Wasn’t love supposed to be all-consuming? Move heaven and earth? Light up the night’s sky and all that other poetic stuff? Gabe wasn’t sure.
He had certainly loved being with Lewis. He was one of those guys that always had to be in a relationship. He didn’t see the point of messing around with people if he didn’t picture a future together. Lewis had been smart and hot and great in bed. He earned good money and was never shy about treating Gabe to dinner, concert tickets, weekends away, whatever he wanted. It had been so wonderful.
But…had there been something missing? That special spark? Was that why it hadn’t been that hard to slip apart?
He touched one of their framed photos standing on the dresser in the landing. They had experienced so much together, and now it was over.
They didn’t share that many friends. Also, the breakup had been amicable, so Gabe wasn’t looking at a drastic reduction in his social circle. But his friends had all liked Lewis. Probably all assumed they would get married someday soon. He didn’t really feel like reaching out to any of them that evening.
He didn’t want to be alone either. He could always hit the gym or climb one of the
walls at the community center. But that wouldn’t entail much meaningful human interaction. There was Paddy’s Irish Bar down town. He worried though that if he started drinking, his emotions might skew his judgment. He didn’t fancy getting wasted or the hangover that would inevitably follow.
Scrubbing his face, he finally walked into the kitchen and looked at the empty spot on the floor. He knew exactly want he wanted to do, and who he was missing the most. At the lack of dog bed, he gave in and allowed some of the tears he’d been forcing back to fall.
All he wanted right now was to bury his face in Max’s warm fur and take a walk around the park. But Max would be settled in his new home in Manhattan by now. He’d have the whole of Central Park as his backyard.
Gabe sat down on the cold tiles and leaned his head back against the wooden cabinet. How many hours had he sat here as a child and kept his mom company while she cooked and baked? Or his dad when he had enough time to make them his secret recipe ribs?
This house was made to be filled with love and laughter. But for the first time in thirty-five years, it was hollow.
“You’re still here, dumbass,” he growled at himself. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself back to his feet.
It would be very odd indeed if he wasn’t sad over the man he’d been with for half a decade leaving. They had shared so much together, and now Gabe had to remember the things that made him happy by himself.
He’d make more time to see friends now. He still had his job down the library and with all the volunteering gigs he did, he wouldn’t be lonely.
Perhaps it was about time he tried being single for a while? One of the things that drove him and Lewis apart was that neither of them were ever home at the same time. Now there would be no one around to complain.
Deep down though he worried he just wasn’t built to be alone. Maybe he’d get himself a cat? They were pretty self-sufficient, but that way he wouldn’t be on his own when he came home.
He stretched his arms over his head and scratched his short beard. Yeah. Maybe he’d go to the shelter after he’d got the new sheets and see if they had any kitties who needed a good home.
Life would go on. He wished Lewis all the best out in the big city, but he had to give himself the same chance.
He flicked on the radio and poured a glass of orange juice. Now he was on his own, he knew he could drink from the carton all he liked. But still, it didn’t feel right. Rather than focus on that, he enjoyed the tang of the juice and wiped the back of his hand over his lips. He sang along to whatever song it was playing and told himself that he deserved a fresh start. He’d done everything possible to save the relationship, so now it was time to heal and move on.
There would be days down the road that would be darker and harder. But all he had to do was get through each one. Before he’d know it, he’d be through a week, then two. He’d be okay.
With optimism firmly in his heart, he ordered a pizza via his phone, then began the difficult task of taking down his and Lewis’s photos. Five years accumulated a lot of memories, and Gabe knew he would still cherish them in years to come. But he didn’t need to see them right now.
He also rooted through to find anything of Lewis’s that had been left behind. He was adamant that he’d taken everything he wanted. So Gabe made himself be strong and either put anything he didn’t need in the trash, or in a box for Goodwill.
Max’s stuff was harder. They had picked out the golden retriever together when he’d been a puppy; they’d raised him together. But Lewis had become utterly distraught at the idea of leaving him behind, so in the end, Gabe had let him take him. Sadness threatened to engulf him as he thought about hugging him goodbye that morning. But they had agreed that they could try sharing him.
Gabe didn’t really think that would happen. It would be too confusing for Max for one thing, and too painful for him and Lewis to have to meet up every time they wanted to hand the dog over. But in case of emergency, if Lewis couldn’t get him into kennels, Gabe would want him to feel at home here again.
So he scooped up any toys he found and the blanket from the couch and stored them carefully in a closet out of sight. He could get rid of them another day if he felt like it.
By the time his pizza arrived, he had a tidy house and a box full of books, teddy bears and glass ornaments that he hoped would find new life in someone else’s home. He kept his sadness at bay by putting a game on the TV and trying to fill his stomach with comforting hot cheese, bread and meat. He managed about a third of it before his throat clamped too much and his belly began to ache. With a sigh, he put the rest in the fridge for tomorrow.
He probably went to bed too early, but if he woke before his alarm, he could always go for a run. Come nine o’clock, he was done rallying himself and putting on a brave face, even if he was the only one looking. He turned off all the lights, the radio and the TV, rendering the house dark and quiet once again.
The sheets still smelled of Lewis. Gabe was ashamed at his actions, but nonetheless crawled onto Lewis’s side of the bed and hugged his ex’s pillow tightly. His brain knew that this was the right path for both of them. But his heart ached, wondering if Lewis was all right in his new apartment. If he was cold or feeling a bit lost all alone in a big city.
He missed his damn dog more than anything. Neither of them had fallen out of love with Max, but Gabe had tried to be fair, and now he was the one by himself.
It was okay. No one would know a tough guy like him had cried himself to sleep. Just for tonight, he told himself. Tonight it would be okay to cry.
Tomorrow would be better.
3
Joey
Joey only had one bag as he stepped off the bus into the center of downtown Greenwich, Connecticut. He tightened his grip on the strap over his shoulder. But unlike he feared, the whole street did not stop and turn to stare at him. In fact, no one paid him any mind.
Other than the woman trying to get off the bus behind him. “Oh, move along, won’t you?” she groused.
Joey hopped off the last step and onto the sidewalk. The bus let out a sigh as the doors closed and it trundled on its way again.
He had been traveling for a couple of days. The last of his money had gone to cover the rent he owed on his apartment. So he’d only had enough left for a Greyhound rather than a plane ticket, then the bus fare home from the depot. He was sore and stiff and probably smelled funky. He popped some gum in his mouth to substitute the good brush he wanted to give his teeth.
Jesus fucking Christ. This was not how he even imagined coming back here. He’d considered it briefly when Below Zero were on their way up, high on the success of their first album and the Grammy they’d just won. But then he and Blake had rented their apartment, and there didn’t really seem to be any point coming back where he knew he wasn’t wanted.
Fuck. He’d have to tell Blake where he was. With the other guys, he could probably hold off admitting he’d had to crawl back home for as long as he could. But Blake would get it out of him after ten minutes on the phone. He rubbed his temples and decided to deal with that when it came.
For now, he just had to get home.
He walked down the street past a couple of banks and the independent clothes stores. Joey felt a pang of nostalgia that just made him sad as he took in the quaint storefronts.
He’d spent a lot of time on these streets. Anything to stay out of the house. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything to keep him away now as he trudged down the familiar paths.
The trees were turning as fall set in. Joey hated seeing summer end. It felt like the walls were closing in.
He could smell Maggie’s Muffins half a block away. If he had anything but pennies left in his pockets he would have totally swung inside and helped himself to an almond bear claw. Nowhere else in the world did one like Maggie’s, and he’d looked. Instead, he inhaled deeply as he approached, swearing that as soon as he had any cash, he’d go treat himself.
Except…then he’d have to
see Maggie.
It was probably inevitable people were going to ask why he was home. What happened to his popstar career. But Joey couldn’t stomach to think about that on his first day. Not until he’d had some sleep and a shower. The humiliation was too much.
All his dreams, all his fame and wealth and success hadn’t been able to save him from coming back. No matter how hard he’d tried. How much he’d wanted it. Knowing he’d have to tell his story over and over again just made the bitter pill even harder to swallow.
He’d already made up his mind he was going to tell anyone who asked that L.A. was too fake and he’d always intended to come back to work on Broadway anyway. It was half true, after all. Martha, his agent, had him a couple of auditions already set up. It was a little tricky to negotiate from L.A., but the thought of trying to get a new agent on top of everything else was unfathomable.
Although they hadn’t had much success, Martha had felt like his only friend on the really bad days since the band split.
Of course Blake was his best buddy. But he was so loved up with his new boyfriend he wasn’t always around when Joey wanted to talk.
He didn’t begrudge him. In fact it was the opposite, he was thrilled for him. But it had been hard on Joey at times, bottling it all in.
At that moment though he let it all go and just breathed in the delicious scents from Maggie’s heavenly bakery. He smiled – right at the second the hottest guy Greenwich had ever seen stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Joey was so taken aback he stopped walking, quickly dropping his smile. The guy was tall, over six foot, broad and a good body, if anything could be seen through the wool cardigan he wore. Joey normally found cardigans on guys dorky, but this dude owned it. Perhaps it was the scruffy beard and wire frame glasses that made it work. He was kind of geek-chic, if a geek were to suddenly decide that hitting the weight station at the gym was cooler than chai lattes and vinyl records.
