Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  “This okay?” Evan asked as he slicked up Scott’s cock.

  “Jesus.”

  Evan chuckled, loving the rush of affection, and placed his spare hand on Scott’s side. His hand on Scott’s dick was good leverage; Evan lifted his hips and drew Scott forward.

  “Go slow,” Evan said, rubbing the blunt head of Scott’s cock over his hole. “But I won’t break.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now.”

  Scott gave a tiny thrust forward, and the head of his cock easily slid inside. Evan arched his back, his body zinging with the sudden intrusion, and placed his now slick hand on Scott’s hip.

  “Fuck. More, Scott. Don’t stop.”

  It took a few moments to figure out each other, to understand angles and where Scott’s hands needed to go and for Evan to draw his legs up to give Scott more space. Then Scott thrust again and bottomed out at Evan’s deepest point.

  “I can’t believe I’m inside you,” Scott murmured, his lips pressed so tightly to the skin under Evan’s ear it was hard for Evan to understand the words.

  “You feel so good.”

  “Show me how to find your sweet spot.”

  Evan smiled to himself and arched his back, turning his face away so Scott wouldn’t see the grin and misunderstand. Scott kept rocking back and forth, a coaxing rhythm that made Evan want to scream Fuck me already.

  “Next time you push in, lift your hips,” Evan said. He lifted one of his legs, curling the ankle just under one of Scott’s delicious asscheeks.

  Scott hummed and drew back, his cock sliding easily out, then thrust in again, equally slow.

  “Again,” Evan said.

  This time Scott found the right angle, and the head of his cock rubbed against Evan’s prostate. Evan curled both hands around Scott’s strong back and held on tight, unable to find the words to say “Yes” or “There” or “Please” or “More.”

  Maybe because they’d known each other nearly their whole lives, or because Evan had loved Scott almost as long, it felt right in a way sex had never felt before. He kept his eyes closed, content, knowing exactly who he was making love with and not needing anything else beyond this dark room and Scott’s sure touch.

  “Still okay?” Scott asked, his voice a breathless whisper.

  “Yeah,” Evan gasped. “Incredible.”

  Scott kissed over Evan’s jaw until their lips met again, and when Scott flicked his tongue into Evan’s mouth, he thought it might be the end.

  “Hard,” Evan managed to say. “Fuck me hard and fast.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m gonna come. Wanna scream for you.”

  “Oh Jesus,” Scott muttered, dropping his head back to the curve of Evan’s neck as his hips started a snapping, bruising rhythm.

  Evan didn’t quite manage a scream. His orgasm was more a punch to the gut, the pleasure radiating outward as his body coiled and released with the power of it.

  Scott watched Evan as he trembled through it, then dropped his head to Evan’s shoulder and groaned, low and deep from his chest. He dropped to his elbows, breathing hard as his dick twitched with the remains of his orgasm, still buried deep in Evan’s body. Evan skimmed his fingers back and forth over Scott’s back, appreciating the sheen of sweat that glided his path.

  With a soft kiss to Evan’s jaw, Scott pulled out and hobbled off to the bathroom to clean up and get rid of the condom.

  “Holy shit,” Evan breathed to the dark room.

  It took a few more minutes for his body to start responding to his brain’s commands. Scott was still in the bathroom, and Evan really, really couldn’t be bothered to move. He grabbed his discarded boxers, used them to wipe the mess off his belly and ass and thighs, then threw them in the direction of the laundry basket.

  When Scott got back, Evan was jelly-limbed and almost asleep.

  “You want me to leave?”

  “No.”

  He felt rather than saw Scott’s smile.

  “Got a spare pair of boxers?”

  “Top drawer,” Evan said around a huge yawn, gesturing absently in the direction of his dresser. A moment later, Scott crawled back between the sheets.

  There was still so much left to say, to figure out between them. But this wasn’t the time. Evan rolled onto his side and tucked his head under Scott’s chin, his arm curled protectively over Scott’s side. Anchoring them together.

  Scott pressed a kiss to the top of Evan’s head, wrapped his arms tightly around Evan’s shoulder, and like this, they fell asleep.

  EVAN WOKE earlier than he usually did, which was saying something. There was a warm, comfortable weight at his back, and Scott was snoring softly. He stretched, testing the soreness in his body. Not that he’d admit it to Scott, but this was the first time Evan had been fucked in a while. The right person just hadn’t come along, and he was twenty-eight now. It felt like he was done with random hookups. He was too old for that shit.

  Being with Scott wasn’t at all like he’d imagined. Evan shifted minutely, finding Scott’s thigh with his ass and pressing their naked skin together. When they’d actually gotten around to fucking, Scott had been better and worse than Evan had imagined. Real-life Scott laughed. He teased and explored, his fingers unsure but curious. This Scott, the one asleep next to him, still snoring, wanted to make Evan feel good and learned how incredibly quickly.

  Evan shifted again, and it seemed to be this that finally nudged Scott awake.

  Shit.

  Scott grunted and groaned, rolling onto his side and throwing an arm around Evan’s waist. For a second, Evan considered pretending to still be asleep, but he couldn’t think of any good reason to do so. Instead he grabbed Scott’s hand and brought it to his chest.

  Saying nothing, Scott kissed his shoulder and apparently drifted back to sleep again. Evan couldn’t blame him. It really was early.

  Closing his eyes, Evan let himself daydream.

  It wasn’t the first time they’d woken up together. It was the thirtieth. Or maybe more. Now Evan knew those little, snuffly grunts and would wait for them, the evidence of Scott’s waking, then let himself be pulled into those strong arms. Maybe they didn’t make love last night, so they would this morning, slow and easy as the sun rose, not kissing because morning breath was gross. Scott would kiss Evan’s shoulder instead, his neck and his ear as he moved in Evan slowly from behind.

  After, they’d share a shower, get up and go for a diner breakfast, because they’d earned it, waking up with so much activity. Scott would hold Evan’s hand across the table and order his coffee black and extra hot, and Evan would look into his eyes and realize he was so, so in love.

  In his bed, in the real world, Scott shuffled closer, pressing his chest to Evan’s back, and Evan wanted to cry.

  “Morning,” Scott croaked.

  “Morning.”

  Evan skimmed his fingers up Scott’s arm, displacing the hairs there, then smoothed them back down again. In response, maybe a thank-you, Scott kissed the bony curve of Evan’s shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” Scott asked. “About last night. And everything.”

  “Yeah. It was good.”

  Scott huffed a silent laugh against the back of Evan’s neck, sending a tiny shiver down Evan’s spine.

  “For me too.”

  Evan knew where this could go, if he let it…. To vague promises to try to make this work—it wasn’t such a long distance, really; they could give it a go, if they both wanted it.

  They did both want it, but there was more than miles between Evan’s life and Scott’s.

  Evan could tell Scott everything he’d been daydreaming of—the two of them together, out and proud and belonging to each other.

  Instead he shuffled to the edge of the bed and shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder, even as his heart was sinking.

  “Breakfast?”

  “Sure.”

  This was easier. Evan pulled on boxers and padded through to the kitchen barefoot, pleased that
he’d at least put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher the night before. It meant the kitchen was relatively clean for making breakfast.

  “Hey, you mind if I take a shower?” Scott asked, sticking his head around the kitchen door.

  “Yeah, of course. There’s clean towels in the cupboard outside the bathroom door.”

  “Got it.”

  When he heard the bathroom door close and the familiar noise of the hot water tank rumbling to life, Evan put his head down on the cool kitchen counter, gripping the edge until his fingers hurt.

  “I fucked Scott Sparrow last night,” he murmured to himself, wondering if this, at last, would make it real. “Scott Sparrow fucked me.”

  It had been too long, too fucking long since they had last seen each other, been friends, knew the things that made them important to each other. The pain of losing Scott as his best friend had never gone away. He’d never gotten over the very real pain and grief of realizing his best friend since childhood had become another person in college, one who wasn’t compatible with the person Evan had grown into.

  Going back and finishing his degree without the security blanket of being Scott’s best friend had been more difficult than Evan had anticipated, even considering how much they’d grown apart in their freshman year. All of Evan’s little successes and failures were things he’d wanted to share with the person who knew him best. More than once he’d reached for his phone, thinking he’d call Scott and clear the air. Then he remembered those biting words and gave up on the idea as childish. Evan could handle a lot of things. Internalized toxic homophobia wasn’t one of them.

  He pulled a box of pancake mix from the cupboard and started the familiar, methodical task of making the batter.

  Apparently Scott didn’t take long in the shower. That, or he hadn’t figured how to get the hot water to work and had given up after scrubbing himself down with cold water. Evan had done the same thing many times before he finally got the hang of the shower dials.

  By the time Scott appeared back in the kitchen, dressed in his jeans and nothing else, if how low-slung they were on his hips was anything to go by, Evan had a stack of pancakes almost ready and was working on preparing fruit.

  “Amazing,” Scott said. “Can I help with anything?”

  “Can you pour some juice? There’s fresh stuff in the fridge.”

  “No problem.”

  Evan fixed their plates and took them over to the bar, then sat in the same seat from their meal the previous night. Scott slid a glass of juice over and grinned at the size of his pancakes.

  “Hungry?” he asked, laughing as Evan shoveled a huge bite of pancake and strawberry into his mouth.

  “Starving.”

  “This looks great. Thanks.”

  Evan swallowed and took a sip of his juice. “You’re welcome.”

  “Do you always make breakfast for your one-night stands?” Scott joked, wincing when it fell flat.

  “No. I usually kick them out after they’ve showered, or don’t let them stay in the first place, or go to the diner across town.”

  “Sorry, that was a shitty thing to say.”

  “Is that what this is?” Evan asked lightly. “A one-night stand?”

  “No,” Scott said. He speared a blueberry on his fork and ate it contemplatively. “Not for me, anyway.”

  “What is it for you?”

  Scott huffed a laugh. “Me discovering what would have happened if I’d grown a pair ten years ago, I suppose.”

  “Shit. Was it really that long?”

  “It really was.”

  “I wonder if the rest of our lives will fly by that fast.”

  Scott hummed in agreement. “I know. I guess you do a lot of growing up between eighteen and twenty-eight.”

  Evan was quiet for a while, eating his pancakes methodically. So much had changed in the past ten years. And yet, maybe some things were just the same.

  After breakfast Scott helped to finish stacking the dishwasher and went back into the bedroom to find the rest of his clothes while Evan turned it on and filled the sink to scrub the pans. It seemed like Scott wasn’t planning on hanging around this morning, and Evan wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

  “I took the liberty of putting my number in your phone.”

  Evan turned his back to the sink and laughed, taking it from Scott’s outstretched hand. “That’s passcode locked, you asshole.”

  “To your birthdate.”

  Scott looked gorgeously disheveled in yesterday’s outfit, his hair still wet from the shower and a day’s growth of stubble on his jaw. It suited him. Scott had a way of looking good in his own skin that Evan had always been jealous of.

  “You’re going back to Chicago.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Scott nodded anyway.

  “I have to. My flight is later this afternoon, and I need to get the car back to my mom.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Evan shook his head, choosing to look at the floor rather than the beautiful man in front of him.

  Scott stepped in close, gripped Evan’s chin, and tilted it up so he could press their lips together. The kiss was slow and sweet, careful and knowing now. They knew each other a little better than they ever had before.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Scott said, resting his forehead against Evan’s. “I don’t have any answers right now. But this isn’t the end.”

  “Okay.”

  The next kiss felt like Scott was sealing some unspoken deal, and Evan shuddered, his fingers twitching to pull Scott in close again, to take his mouth and kiss and kiss until Scott promised to come back. Evan needed that promise.

  Scott pulled away with a tiny pained noise and silently let himself out of the house.

  Evan took one deep, calming breath, ignoring the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. He tried not to listen to the car pulling away from the front of his house. And failed.

  The First Time

  Spring 1994

  “MOM!” EVAN yelled as he ran into the house. “Mom, Mom, Moooooomm!”

  “Yes, darling,” she said, appearing from the kitchen with an apron around her waist, floury hands, and an exasperated expression.

  Evan skidded to a stop and frowned. “What are you making?”

  “You had a question for me?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Can I go to Scott’s?”

  Evan’s mom turned around and walked back into the kitchen. He followed her, hoping the floury hands meant she’d been making cookies. On the counter, a pie was cooling. Even better.

  “Who’s Scott?”

  “Is that peach pie?” he asked hopefully.

  “Evan King,” she admonished. “One thing at a time. Who is Scott?”

  “He’s my best friend,” Evan said.

  “Uh-huh. Andy was your best friend last week.”

  “He’s my second best friend now.”

  “Is that so,” she said in a way that wasn’t a question.

  Without waiting to be asked, Evan went to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. He’d been playing outside and knew his mom wouldn’t let him have pie unless he washed up.

  “Scott has a whole bunch of action figures,” Evan said, drying his hands on his shorts. There wasn’t a towel anywhere he could see. “And he let me play Hulk even though Hulk is his favorite too. He’s got loads of them. Wolverine and Punisher and Iron Man and Spider-Man and Captain America and—”

  “Would you like some pie, Evan?”

  “Yes, please. Then can I go to Scott’s? His mom said it was okay.”

  “Where does Scott live?” she asked as she cut a nice-sized piece of pie—it was peach—and put it in his favorite dish.

  “Dunno.”

  “Okay. Where did you meet him? At the playground?”

  “Yep.” Evan hopped up onto one of the tall stools in the kitchen so he could eat. “The one I’m allowed to go to. He said I could go home with him and his mom then, but I said I had to ask you first.”
<
br />   “Good boy,” she said and ruffled his hair. “Tell you what, when you go over to the playground tomorrow, I’ll walk with you and see if Scott’s mom is there. Then we can arrange for you to go over some time.”

  Evan nodded, his mouth full of pie. “Okay.”

  “I have to go to work tonight, sweetie, so Mrs. Lipinski will be watching you for a few hours.”

  Evan groaned loudly. “Mrs. Lip-ski smells like beets.”

  “She does not smell like beets,” his mom said. “And it’s Lipinski. Lip-in-ski.”

  “Uh-huh. Can I have some more pie, please?”

  “After your dinner. I’ll put some in a bowl for you in the fridge, okay? You can get it yourself once you’ve eaten.”

  “Okay, Momma. I wish you didn’t have to go to work tonight.”

  “I know, kiddo,” she said with a sigh and kissed the top of Evan’s head. “Me too. Go on and play while I get this place cleaned up.”

  He hummed in agreement and slid down from the stool to land in a crouch, then took off for the family room at a run. This was where his mom kept all the best drawing supplies. He was allowed to keep some in his room for when he played quietly upstairs, but mostly they were here so they could work on things together.

  Evan liked drawing most of all. He liked drawing the Avengers and the Fantastic Four and Batman and Joker. Batman was the best because you could draw the Bat Signal in the sky and the whole of Gotham City and the Batmobile.

  When Evan’s mom came to kiss him good-bye before she went to work, he was stretched out on his stomach, coloring the city sky, and he remembered to tell her he loved her before she left the house.

  His mom worked at night, sometimes at a bar and sometimes at a convenience store. During the days, when he was at school, she worked at the convenience store again and sometimes at a restaurant, but not always. She was always there when he finished school, waiting to walk him home, even though Evan said he was old enough to walk home on his own now. His mom didn’t listen. She was always there.