Drawn Together

by Z. A. Maxfield

  “It’s not that bad. I was the only one on the road. Like I said, it’s not bad until the wind whips up.”

  “It seems kind of windy to me.” Yamane looked out the window. The sky was harder to see now that the lights were on in the room.

  “Hey. Can I have your lighter?”

  “Sure.” Yamane got it from the nightstand. “Why?”

  “I got a candle so we can watch if you want.” Rory pulled an ordinary vanilla-scented jar candle out of one of the grocery bags. He removed the top and lit it, then went to the wall to turn off the lights. “I like to watch a storm. You really can’t see it when the lights are on inside.” The lightning made dramatic displays of light on the walls, the flashes illuminating the two tired men’s faces for only seconds at a time. The effect was strobelike and eerie.

  Rory cut into an apple with his pocketknife and offered a bit to Yamane, who ate it right from his hand, taking a little bite of his thumb with it, which sent shivers down Rory’s spine. He smiled at the smaller man, who continued to chew as if nothing had happened. Yamane sat there, gloriously naked, his long hair spilling over his shoulders and trailing down his back. Watching him made Rory feel dumbstruck and primitive by comparison. He ached to put his hands in that hair but prolonged the wait, enjoying the taut silence between them and unwilling to shatter the quiet of the moment. Yamane must have sensed something of this, because he seemed to light up from within, getting a seductive, lazy look in his eyes as he sipped his beer.

  Rory cut another piece of apple, eating this one himself. He began to amuse himself by seeing if he could peel the apple in one piece, at least the part he hadn’t yet cut. He sliced off the peel, then another piece for Yamane, who seemed to be waiting for him. Again, Yamane silently took the apple from his hand with his mouth, this time, not nipping, but licking the fingers that gave it to him.

  Rory ran his thumb across Yamane’s lips. The first time Yamane kissed him was clear in his memory. How he’d teased him about having something on his lip. Rory’s first hot, hot kiss from a man. That kiss was a key to something Rory knew he’d kept locked inside him for a long time. Rory got up and led Yamane to the bed, where he encouraged him to sit astride his thighs and pulled him close for a long, sensual kiss.

  “Yamane,” Rory whispered. “Please…I need you.” They began to undress, but when he got to his jeans, Rory’s hands shook, so Yamane swept them out of the way. Unbuttoning Rory’s fly for him, Yamane skimmed Rory’s jeans down his thighs and swept them out of the way.

  Yamane disappeared for a minute, then returned with a condom and that little plastic bottle of lube. Rory closed his eyes. “I still don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

  “Don’t worry, cher.” Yamane mimicked him. “I do.”

  Yamane took Rory’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. Unwilling to give up the sensation of those gentle kisses, Rory held him for a long time, savoring the sweetness of being teased and kissed, licked and bitten.

  Yamane left a trail of wetness down his throat and purred in his ear like a cat. Their bodies strained against each other; Yamane straddling him, grinding his flesh against Rory’s until Rory thought he would die from the sheer pleasure of it.

  Yamane opened the condom and unrolled it on Rory’s cock. He took Rory’s hand and squeezed a small amount of lubricant into it. He kissed Rory and guided his hand until his fingers breached the puckered opening of his ass. Rory fingered Yamane, changing the angle and the depth, watching Yamane’s expressive face as he pushed deeper.

  “Kiss me,” Yamane demanded as he slowly seated himself on Rory’s cock.

  Rory pulled Yamane in for a searing, searching kiss and moved automatically when he felt Yamane’s hot, tight body close around him.

  “Don’t,” Yamane whispered against Rory’s mouth. Yamane clutched at his shoulders, slip-sliding soft hands to cradle his neck. “Stay still for a minute, please.”

  Rory was content to stay joined in this kiss and this way with this man forever. He held Yamane’s body close to his and nuzzled his neck behind his ear, losing himself in that glorious hair…

  “Rory.” Yamane whispered after what seemed like a lifetime to Rory, but could only have been minutes, even seconds. His face was flushed and his eyes were unfocused. “Go.”

  Rory rocked his hips up into Yamane’s tight heat. He pulled Yamane to him and pulsed up and back, moving his own body like a piston, muscles bunching, jaw clenched as he drove in and out of Yamane’s ass. He slipped his arms around Yamane and fiercely pounded him, pulling him down, more and harder and tighter, uttering inarticulate cries, until their foreheads were pressed together and he felt Yamane tighten and shudder around him.

  Hearing Yamane breathe his name, seeing the wonder on his face, and feeling that tight ass squeeze his cock like a fist, Rory jerked, shooting his own release into the latex.

  “Yes,” Yamane whispered, twining his arms around Rory’s neck and going limp against his body. “Yes…yes…yes.”

  Euphonia Delaplaines was making rice. In her lifetime, she had made enough rice, she supposed, to feed all the people who lived on the planet one meal. She made red beans and rice, dirty rice, curry rice, rice pilaf, and rice plain as a side dish to everything. Every grain lined up would go all the way to the farthest planet in the solar system.

  “Who are you making all that food for?” said Claude Delaplaines. “Rory’s gone, and I’m playing poker tonight with the cancer survivors.”

  “I don’t know,” said Euphonia. “Something’s bothering me.” She sat down at the chipped Formica kitchen table.

  “What?” said Claude. “You feeling bad?”

  “No, I don’t know. I can’t imagine what Rory’s thinking, going off to California like that, and now, he’s off with that Yamane. Something’s wrong, I just know it. How can that little car of his still be going? I just don’t feel easy in my mind, Claude. I truly don’t.”

  “Now, Rory’s a good boy. He has a fine head on his shoulders. I’m more concerned about that Amelia woman. Does she seem a little overdone in the brain to you?”

  “Yes indeed, she does. She keeps stopping by. I thought I would have to throw her out the other day. She’s an odd one.”

  “We just have to wait till Rory gets back. Didn’t he say he’d come by Saturday to meet that woman for her concert?”

  “Yes. Still…well. I’m certain he’s going to be fine. All the same, I just can’t help but think somehow that something’s not quite right.”

  “It’ll be all right, woman. We’ll keep an eye out. Do you want me to stay home from poker?”

  “No. But don’t be driving all polluted, Claude, or Sheriff Rene’s going to lock you up for sure this time.”

  Euphonia finished putting the last casserole in the freezer, thinking that it never hurt to have some food on hand in case someone gets ill or passes, when she heard a knock on the door. She walked to the front of the new manufactured home and saw that Amelia woman standing on the porch.

  “Amelia,” she said. “I must say, it seems as though you’re more anxious to see us than our boy is.” Euphonia didn’t invite her in, and yet she came in anyway. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” she asked with a smile that she knew didn’t bother showing up on the rest of her face at all.

  “I just thought I’d stop by and see you,” said Amelia, looking around. “Rory not here yet?”

  “No, he’s not. I imagine he and that Yamane are looking at some sights on the way home.”

  “Yes. I imagine they are,” said Amelia in a leering way that made Euphonia grind her teeth.

  Euphonia smiled and then said with a perfectly sanguine expression on her face, “Did I ever tell you that my husband Claude is a cancer survivor? No? Well, come on in, I want to tell you all about it.”

  “Uh…well,” said Amelia, still looking curiously all around the living room of the manufactured home.

  “The thing is, it’s the prostate, you know?” said Euphonia. “It
seems like all the men get to a certain age and the prostate just starts going. And of course, that means the men stop going, if you know what I mean.” She took Amelia by the arm and began to lead her to the couch. “Sit right there, dear. I’ll make us a pot of coffee. This is a long, long story.”

  “No, I…” said Amelia, but Euphonia was already headed to the kitchen.

  “So where was I?” Euphonia called from the kitchen, pretending to make coffee. “I thought when Claude was getting up ten, maybe fifteen times a night and peeing only two drops each time that he ought to go the darn doctor, but you know men, don’t you, Amelia?” She returned to the living room, only to find Amelia gone and the front door wide open. “And that takes care of that,” she said out loud.

  Seeing that door wide open didn’t stop Euphonia from checking every single closet, cupboard, and drawer to make sure Amelia wasn’t hiding in the house. When she’d checked every space conceivably big enough for the dreadful woman to hide in, she checked spaces too small as well. Finally, she locked all the doors and windows carefully, and made a mental note to ask Claude to load the shotgun. That woman gave her the creeps. She sat down at the computer in her office/den.

  Dear Rory,

  I am so longing to see your sweet face. Amelia was here again today, and I shared the story of your grandfather’s brush with cancer, but she seems to have had somewhere else to go, because when I came out from the kitchen where I’d “put on a pot of coffee” so I could warm to my story, she was gone.

  I must say, cher, that even the thought of Yamane with her makes me worry. I am sure, dear, that if you have the kind of relationship with Yamane where you might guide her as a good friend, you should tell her that she must steer clear of people like that. I cannot be easy in my mind about Amelia. She strikes me as someone who belongs in New York City or someplace like that. I made your favorite casserole, so if no one gets ill or passes before you come home, you may look forward to it. Does Yamane like spicy food?

  All my love, my darling boy,

  Your Loving Grandmère.

  23

  Yamane awoke to find a freshly showered Rory bathed in the light of his laptop. He was laughing softly and drinking a beer. The rain still came down outside; however, the thunder and lightning had subsided for the time being.

  “What is it?” said Yamane. “I didn’t think you were supposed to use a computer during a storm.”

  “Oh, this one’s using battery power. I wouldn’t plug it in. My grandmère sent me an e- mail. She wishes me to warn you against friends like Amelia.”

  “Really?” said Yamane. “Me? How odd.”

  “She thinks Amelia must be your friend, because she’s not really my type, and Grandmère is trying to figure her out. Grandmère has her number, though. I hope she doesn’t try to run her off before we get home. I don’t like to think what Amelia would do…”

  “She’ll wait for us. It wouldn’t be any fun for her to do anything to your grandparents unless you were there to see it. It’s just how she is. I thank God every day all I had was a dog.”

  “Ah, cher.” Rory held out his arm for Yamane.

  “So,” said Yamane, sitting down on Rory’s lap and taking a sip of his beer. “What is your type?”

  “Let’s see, I like them super tall,” Rory lied, “with really, really big breasts. I mean, like out to here.” He gestured wildly.

  “Then…what are you doing?”

  “What do you mean? I’m teasing you.

  “No, I mean, what are you doing with me?”

  “I’m with you because I love you. What do you mean?”

  Yamane struggled out of Rory’s arms. “You’re a tourist. I have to keep telling myself that. I’m just another roadside attraction. Aren’t you the one who likes novelty? The biggest ball of twine, the largest cob of corn?”

  “People aren’t tourist attractions, Yamane. People love each other for all different reasons. Just because I’m fond of seeing what’s around the next bend on the road doesn’t mean --”

  “Shut up, you’re only making it worse,” Yamane said, walking to the bathroom. He turned on the shower. “I’m so stupid.” He stepped in, letting the water sluice down his chest, enjoying the way it warmed him.

  “Yamane?” Rory pulled the shower curtain aside and got in behind him.

  “It’s hard for me to trust this,” Yamane admitted.

  “You want to tell me why?”

  Yamane rested his head against Rory’s chest. “I think you’re going to break my heart. And it’s going to hurt like hell when you do.”

  “Any guy might break your heart. What’s your point?”

  “I love you, Rory. You might be ambisexual or bicoastal or whatever, but I’m gay. I’ve known I’m gay forever. It didn’t take a kiss from a frog prince or a big adventure to wake me up to that.”

  “Maybe I’m not the same. But I’m not a tourist either.” He pulled Yamane under the spray with him until they were wet and sliding against one another, their cocks hard and heavy in Rory’s big hand and he stroked them off together.

  “Oh, shit.” Yamane leaned back against the wall and put his hands over Rory’s as Rory twisted his hand around their dicks.

  “Have a little faith in me, Yamane, please.” Rory leaned in to kiss Yamane as he felt the first splash of cum hit their hands. “Love you.”

  Later in the darkness, spooned up to Yamane between the sheets, Rory worried that Yamane really believed what he was saying. It wouldn’t matter how much Rory loved him if Yamane didn’t believe it. It almost made him laugh. Almost. Rory wondered if hiding the truth so completely -- even from himself -- was about to come back and bite him the ass, and not in a good way. Yamane was acting very strange. Even for Yamane.

  “That woman makes me look perfectly sane,” Amelia was saying about Euphonia. “It’s a wonder she isn’t locked up somewhere for boring people to death.”

  Ethan allowed himself a brief smile because he was facing away from Amelia pouring her a glass of Chardonnay.

  “Where the hell could Delaplaines be? He has to bring Yamane to me, and the sooner the better. I know I gave him until Saturday, but what is taking him so long?”

  “Well, if he was in California where he was last using his credit cards” -- Ethan handed her the glass -- “it would take him, what, three days at least to get here, right?”

  “So now you think he was in California?”

  Ethan sipped his own wine. “I can’t think where else he might’ve been,” he said carefully. “He could, of course, be anywhere now.” Like Omaha.

  “His grandparents are yokels, and they think the sun rises and sets on him.”

  “If you do anything to his grandparents, he doesn’t have to come back, and he never will. You will have lost everything. Are you prepared to give up Yamane and your revenge?” “Listen, have you found out anything about the sheriff in this place? He seems to be interested in the Delaplaines. I’ve seen him parked outside their house twice already, and I don’t want him interfering in my plans. Find out what it will take. He’s probably a joke.”

  Ethan had already checked on the sheriff. He disagreed. Sheriff Rene Chanfreau was competent and well liked. He had a reputation for upholding the law with a light hand, for letting people mind their own business. He looked the other way, for instance, while Claude Delaplaines grew marijuana for the cancer survivor group, and tended to turn a blind eye when they all got together on nights like tonight and sparked up. Chanfreau had also been a Navy SEAL, which no one in this small town thought about much, but to Ethan, that fact commanded a respect that little else would.

  “It would be better not to underestimate local law enforcement.”

  “Law enforcement,” Amelia sneered. “Barney Fife is probably just eating some of Miss Euphonia’s chicken-fried steak as we speak.”

  Ethan was content to let her rant. If it weren’t for the bulk twins and the slow-witted Jeff, who had become a kind of liability for Ethan as he got to
know them, he would be gone. His “team,” as he had begun to think of them in Vegas, had started in uncomfortable silence, but as soon as Amelia had stabbed the doctor, there had been a pronounced shift in their behavior.

  Bill and Matt, the two men hired to be muscle, had been completely poleaxed by Amelia’s attack on what they thought of as a noncombatant and were now too frightened by her crazy rages to quit. Jeff, who simply didn’t have the capacity anymore to tell how insane she was, simply did what she told him like a puppy, took her abuse too personally, and lapped up her occasional moments of kindness like ice cream. The whole thing sickened Ethan and he was frozen in indecision. How best to get out of it? How to get the boys, as he had begun to think of them, out of it?

  “You take the first driving shift,” said Rory. “I’ll show you on the map where we need to go from here.” He unfolded a map of the US on the small table. He’d marked out their destination and pointed to Omaha, the closest major city to where they were. “We just keep on east from here on the I-80 till we get to Des Moines, then down I-35. No surprises.” He put away his laptop and did one last check of the motel room. “Fine, we’re out of here.”

  The sun was beginning to heat up the ground, and the damp earth gave off an eerie vaporous steam. “At least the storm is over,” said Yamane, getting behind the wheel of their new truck. “For now, anyway.”

  “I have the radio tuned to the Weather Channel. You can listen and find out what’s up ahead.” He reclined his seat as far as it would go and put a T-shirt over his face, effectively blocking Yamane and the world out. In no time, Nebraska was disappearing from their rearview mirror and Rory was dreaming of home.

  Rory knew he was asleep; he felt the awareness of the truck, the road, and Yamane slip away from him, and into their place came his grandparents’ home, not the shiny, new manufactured home sitting on the land now, but the old house, with its wide screened-in porch.

  The porch swing hung at one end, and two or three wooden chairs, one of which rocked, sat around a small table that was always covered with books and games or frosty cold glasses of lemonade. Whenever Rory came to that home from his parents’ house in the city, he always found his grandmère on that porch, waiting. No matter how hard he tried to surprise her, she had a sixth sense where he was concerned or someone in the town called her, because he’d never once shown up when she didn’t know he was coming.