When Memory Fails

by D. W. Marchwell

  “I heard that,” Scott said as he exited the bathroom. “At least Brian won’t be along tomorrow for you two to keep ganging up on me.”

  “Ben saw a picture of you on the Internet once.” Justis’s ears started to redden as everyone turned to look at him. “Well, we didn’t know it was you. I mean…. Anyway, when I found out your brother was marrying my mom, the name clicked, and I told Ben.” Justis seemed to be debating as to whether or not he should finish the thought. “He thinks you look like Josh Lucas.”

  Hank heard the name and quickly closed his eyes, knowing what was coming next. Sure enough, as he opened his eyes and looked at his Scrappy, there was no mistaking the look of triumph, the look that reminded Hank that no one had compared him to a gorgeous actor. Scott turned full on to face Hank, who shrugged, as if to say, What can I say? You got me! I’ve been put in my place. He walked over to where Scott was standing with his hands on hips, the gloating face housing eyes that were far too full of victory.

  He stopped a couple of feet away from Scott and opened his arms in a sign of surrender. And, when Scott was within striking distance, curled his fingers into a fist and pushed it playfully against Scott’s taut, full belly.

  Chapter 12

  SCOTT stood at the tall window of the luxurious room, his eyes following the tiny rivulets of water as they cascaded down the spotless glass of the bed-and-breakfast. As he listened to the sound of his husband’s relaxed and contented breathing, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the tiny droplets of water and his life, which was now his and Hank’s life. Some of the tiny droplets took a little more time to reach the bottom of the pane of glass, but they all got there eventually, finding each other in the end. He remembered two years ago, after he had returned from his first camping trip with Hank, how his brother had been concerned that Scott would get hurt because Hank seemed to be coming out so much later than Scott. And yet here they were, a real married couple, enjoying a honeymoon in Sooke Harbor. Scott had known nothing about this particular event, Hank having surprised him during the reception.

  Scott and Hank had discussed the wedding many times, and Scott had always been a little frustrated at Hank’s seeming indifference, the big logger always smiling at his Scrappy and telling him that all he wanted was Scott, that nothing else really mattered. Of course, as he stood at the window on the morning after their wedding night, Scott could only shake his head. “I should have known that he was up to something,” Scott whispered, the smile on his face warding off the happy tears of remembering the day before, the day of their wedding.

  As soon as Scott had been able to get Hank to agree to a date—which, given Hank’s complete openness to any idea, had been the first date suggested—Scott had approached his brother and asked him to stand up for him. He’d not really been paying attention, since he’d naturally assumed his brother would say yes without hesitation, just as Scott had done for his own brother at his wedding to Kari. But Brian had said no without showing even the slightest need of explanation or apology.

  Momentarily sidelined, Scott had asked Brian if he would even be showing up at the wedding. He didn’t really know what to think. He hadn’t expected that Brian would be squeamish about a gay wedding. Brian had assured his only brother that not only would he be at the wedding, but that he would be up at the front, standing not too far from Scott, during the ceremony. It had taken Scott a couple of moments to allow his bleary mind to understand what that would mean. Once he did, however, he launched himself into his brother’s arms and asked when it had happened, why Brian had not said anything. “Hank asked me a couple of days after he proposed to you. He explained that he’d understand if I said no, if I wanted to stand up for you instead, but I told him yes right away. I told him that you wouldn’t have any trouble finding another friend to stand up for you.” And Scott had had no problems at all, his second choice agreeing right away. Kari didn’t mind being Scott’s second choice, even going so far as to say she probably would have said no if she’d learned that he’d not asked his brother first. The love that Scott had for Kari was growing exponentially every day. It was as if the Alan brothers had finally managed to find their way out of their troubled childhood, straight into the arms of the two people who would love them enough to make up for all those who hadn’t.

  Scott’s fingers played with the ring that would be on his finger forever. He’d never been a jewelry kind of person, but there was never a question as to whether he would wear the ring. Hank had had the plain gold band engraved along the inside with the date and their initials. And Scott had done the same with Hank’s band, although the band itself was a little more substantial due to the size of Hank’s long, thick fingers. The bands were simple, refined, and elegant. Just as the ceremony had been.

  As he returned to the bed and to the warmth and peacefulness of his husband, Scott’s mind kept replaying those key moments over and over again. When he’d learned that Hank had asked for, and received, Brian’s help in locating just the right place to hold the small ceremony. Brian had called in a favor so that Hank and Scott could have their wedding on a five-acre lot covered in beautiful trees, with a log cabin house and a babbling brook not far away. Beside the brook, there was a series of flagstones that formed a natural dais. Hank and Scott stood on those stones, along with the minister, and recited their vows to each other with the eighteen invited guests looking on.

  Reaching out to smooth a lock of Hank’s hair away from his rugged features, softened by sleep, Scott wished all of Hank’s family had shown up to support their son and brother, but in the end, it had been only his mother, Rose, and his brother-in-law, Jeff. Jeff had shown up the day of the wedding, but Rose had insisted on coming the day before so that she could awaken bright and early to bake the wedding cake for them.

  Scott leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on his husband’s shoulder, fairly bursting with pride at how Hank had not let his father’s and sisters’ decisions ruin the ceremony or the day. It didn’t stop Hank from looking around every so often before the service, his eyes earnest in their search for his father and sisters. After the ceremony itself, there were moments when Scott had looked over and thought he saw a flicker of regret or sadness in Hank’s eyes, but then those moments would pass, just as quickly, as he caught Scott looking at him. And then Hank would smile. And so would Scott, so in love with Hank that he felt guilty at how incredibly happy he was.

  Hank stirred for a moment, rolled onto his side, and Scott held his breath, half hoping that he would open his eyes and they could make love again. When Hank did not wake, Scott closed his eyes and reached over the sleeping form of his husband and brought his left hand to rest on Hank’s. He snuggled against the broad, warm back and remembered the words that Hank had spoken during the ceremony. Hank had been very secretive about the vows he was writing, explaining to Scott, who was far too curious to wait, that he wanted to find just the right words. And he had.

  Hank had stood in front of their guests and recited vows that had Scott fighting to hold back tears. “A friend is someone who knows the song in my heart and sings it to me when my memory fails.” Scott knew he’d heard the quote before somewhere and had thought it a beautiful and profound sentiment. But when he heard Hank speak those words about him, he’d not been able to control himself. He’d reached up as Hank continued, caressing the cheek of that handsome face, a silent promise to sing to Hank whenever he needed it. “Scott, you are not only a friend who knows the song in my heart, but my best friend, the one who knows when I have forgotten the song and sings it without being asked. The past two years have proven to me that you are the only person I would entrust with my heart and the song it sings so loudly whenever you are near. I promise to love you, comfort you, listen to you, and take care of you all the days of my life. And most importantly, I promise to appear to consider every ridiculous nickname before finally saying ‘no’ and to stop squeezing the toothpaste from the middle.”

  Laughter through tears.
That’s one of my favorite emotions. Scott couldn’t remember where he’d heard that, but it described his emotional state perfectly once Hank had recited his vows to Scott. And then it was Scott’s turn. It took him a few moments to calm his nerves and his breathing, but he’d managed to recite the vows he’d written for Hank, boring and plain in comparison to Hank’s, but he’d managed to work in a few amusing snippets of his own before finishing. Scott had promised to love and to comfort Hank before adding “and to keep the beer cold, the cupboard stocked, and to never cancel our subscription to ESPN.” As he listened to the polite laughter, Scott imagined that most everyone probably understood about the televised games. The assembled guests had laughed, but none as hard or as long as Hank, however. It had not exactly been a surprise that Hank was a sports fanatic, but it had surprised Scott a great deal to learn that nothing, not even a naked boyfriend, distracted Hank from his football and hockey. But it was never a problem. It simply gave Scott prearranged times when he could work on his composing.

  As he lay there, curled up to Hank’s warmth, Scott felt his fingers suddenly interlaced with Hank’s. He kissed the smooth, bronzed skin of Hank’s back several times before he moved back onto his side of the bed as Hank rolled onto his back, his eyes opening and his hand squeezing Scott’s. Hank broke the connection and stretched, giving Scott an opportunity to let his hand trail all over the hairy chest and hard belly.

  “Morning,” Hank said as his hand moved to cover his husband’s. “Happy?”

  Scott smiled and brought their lips together. “Always, when I’m with you.”

  “Mom’s not in the next room now.” Hank brought his hands to rest under his head as he looked at Scott.

  Scott let go of a snort and swatted playfully at Hank’s belly. “I love your mother. That was so sweet of her to come out, even though her husband and daughters didn’t.”

  “I was more surprised at Jeff showing up.”

  Scott’s hand began to trace lazy circles over the warm belly. Hank did love to have his tummy rubbed. “I wasn’t. Not really.” Scott propped himself up on one elbow. “I just hope he doesn’t have to put up with too much crap because he did.”

  “Mom said that Dad doesn’t speak to him much anymore. Apparently, he won’t even go over to their house for their usual weekly dinner. So Mom goes alone.”

  “Rose is a very formidable woman,” Scott said, trying to keep the atmosphere positive and away from the subject of who had not attended the ceremony.

  “She wasn’t always.” Hank covered his husband’s hand with his own again, this time bringing it up so that he could play with the gold wedding band. “I think she’s started to realize just how much my father has held her back.”

  “Do you think she might like to come out for an extended visit when we get back to the townhouse?”

  “Your brother was right,” Hank said after leaning in for a kiss. “When you love someone, it’s with 110 percent of your heart. Something that you two have in common.”

  “Yeah,” Scott said with a smile in his sigh. “I can’t wait to see him as a father. Have you noticed how much more relaxed he’s getting with the pregnancy and his impending fatherhood?”

  “I think that this contract might have helped with that, and of course, the more time he has to get used to the idea, the more relaxed he’ll become with everything it means.”

  “So, what about inviting your mom out for a week or so? Or… we could maybe go somewhere and take her with us.”

  “We’ll have to wait for this contract to finish up at work, but after that….”

  Scott pushed himself up and straddled Hank’s hips, loving the feel of those hands petting his thighs and hips. “Do you think she’s forgotten about the theatre tickets?”

  “I don’t know,” Hank said, his brow furrowing and his hands moving to trace lazy circles on Scott’s abdomen. “But I do know that when she sees they’re for the third row, she’s going to hit the roof. Mom doesn’t like the idea of people spending money on her.”

  “I’m glad I could do this for her.”

  “How much did they cost, by the way?”

  “Nothing,” Scott said, moving Hank’s hands to his thighs so he could lean forward and lay random kisses across Hank’s neck and face. “I’ve known Rick a long time.”

  “Huh.” Hank moaned as Scott’s lips found the little hollow in between his clavicles. “I guess it’s a good thing I put that ring on your finger, then.”

  “I’ve never known him like that,” Scott whispered, moving his lips up to nibble at Hank’s sensitive ear lobes. “He’s straight.”

  “A straight man in theatre?”

  “I think that’s the first bitchy thing I’ve ever heard you say!” Scott sat up straight, his hands resting on top of Hank’s.

  Hank laughed and pulled Scott back down on top of his torso, his hands moving to the small of his back. “If I start referring to men as she and start wearing tight clothing, you will shoot me and put me out of my misery, won’t you?”

  Scott didn’t answer, his need growing as he felt Hank’s big hands exploring and exciting his skin. He moved back a little so that he could press his swelling cock against Hank’s, the friction slow and full of promise. Scott could feel the coolness of his husband’s pre-cum against the head of his own erection. With his hands still exploring and caressing Hank’s torso, Scott shuffled down the big body until he was nestled between the muscled thighs, Hank’s sweet sighs encouraging and erotic.

  Scott was never what anyone would have ever called a size queen, but he did find himself unable to resist Hank’s uncut dick. It wasn’t so large that it caused pain—or perhaps Scott had just gotten used to the size by now—but it was very thick, swelling in the center, so that each time he swallowed it or each time Hank thrust inside him, there were moments when Scott felt himself stretched beyond what he’d ever thought possible. And when Hank teased him, moving slowly but purposefully, he kept the swollen center of his dick in the exact spot that would stretch Scott and allow the mushroom head to tap against his prostate. It was a sensation that he would never have been able to describe to anyone, even if he tried.

  He was not as thick or long as Hank, nor did Hank enjoy bottoming as much as Scott, but there were moments, when Scott moved his tongue from laving and licking the impressive cock to repeating the same actions against Hank’s entrance, that the big logger had been reduced to begging Scott to fuck him. And Scott, as he was now, would always oblige.

  He used his hands, found the joints where knees met calves, and pushed Hank’s legs up until he felt the big hands take over. He brought his hands back down to Hank’s entrance and, using his thumbs, began to wet the tiny ring of muscle in earnest. It was an incredibly erotic experience for Scott, to realize that Hank was offering himself, giving himself over to Scott.

  Scott inserted a thumb into the tight hole, feeling it constrict and then relax again. He hummed as he pressed his lips against the sensitive pink flesh, his other thumb moving up to press against his husband’s frenulum. More sounds of pleasure caressed Scott’s ears, but he waited until he heard those words, the words that made him slick himself and take Hank as if he were some sort of feral animal, the sensuality of the foreplay gone and replaced by the all-encompassing need to please Hank.

  “Scott, baby, please.”

  Before repositioning himself, Scott inserted a finger and found Hank’s prostate, massaging it lightly as he watched Hank writhe and buck against the mattress, his ass pressing forward to keep the intimate contact. “Turn on your side,” Scott commanded, his senses alight as he thought about the article that Hank had showed him on the Internet, the same article where Hank had seen the pile driver position. This position, where Hank was on his side and Scott pushed inside him from on top, had been featured in the same article. And after reading about this position, Scott had wanted to try it. Scott’s cock, unlike Hank’s, did not curve upward. It was as straight as a ruler, so what the article called “The Sc
rew” would afford Scott the freedom to move around once inside Hank without requiring a lot of strength.

  Hank gritted his teeth and sucked in some air quickly. Scott leaned forward, offering an impromptu tummy rub and reminding Hank to relax, to breathe. He felt Hank’s hole relax and began pushing in very slowly, loving the sounds that Hank made whenever the engorged head of his cock hit the bigger man’s prostate. Scott’s head fell back, all of his nerve endings seeming to have migrated to his groin. He was completely lost in the sensation of Hank around him and under his hands. He was controlling himself the best he could, hoping he would be able to fall forward on his hands soon and begin pumping faster, when he heard Hank moan, “Faster,” just the one word, over and over again.

  Scott fell forward immediately and spread his knees a little farther apart to gain a little more leverage. As Hank’s hands came out to stroke his belly, their eyes met and locked onto each other, Scott as turned on as he ever was at seeing Hank’s eyes flutter, at hearing the indescribable moans every time Scott brushed his prick against Hank’s sensitive prostate.

  “Hank,” Scott whispered, feeling himself nearing the edge. “Love you, Hank, love you so much.”

  Scott heard a strangled cry, saw Hank’s eyes roll back in his head, and then felt the exquisite constriction around his cock. He looked down and saw the result of their lovemaking on Hank’s belly, on the sheets, on his hand. And as if it had always been so, Scott felt himself fall over the edge once again because of this man beneath him. This man who would spend the rest of his life with him. This man who had promised to love him, comfort him, listen to him, and take care of him all the days of his life.

  “My Scrappy,” Hank sighed as Scott fell into his arms. He kissed Scott’s flushed and sweating face, saying those three words that always left the younger man feeling as if nothing else existed or mattered.