Brick by Brick

by Maryn Blackburn

  Now James tore the paper off and lifted the lid, revealing two keys, each gaily beribboned. James pulled one out.

  “That,” Gage said, bouncing curls of yellow ribbon with the flat of his hand, “is to your temporary truck, to use until the other one’s repaired.”

  “The cop said I wrapped it around the pole pretty good,” James said. “It might be totaled.”

  “We’ll call the insurance company tomorrow,” I promised. I should have done it today.

  “This truck’s too big and fancy,” Gage said, “but it’ll do, short-term.”

  “If it runs, it’s fine. What’s the other key?” James fished it out, blue ribbons dangling.

  “It’s to your truck. I’m getting your body work done, the engine rebuilt, and the seat and dash reupholstered, and while we’re inside, new rubber on the floor. It’ll still be the same truck, just better. It’s going to start every time, for one thing.”

  And the cab wouldn’t smell of James’s blood, real or imagined.

  “Wow, that’s great! Thank you.” James beamed. “My dad gave me that truck.”

  “Natalie told me.”

  “I figured she must have, or you wouldn’t know it means a lot to me.”

  “You mean a lot to me,” Gage said simply. “You and Nat both.”

  “I know.” James’s usual unease at emotional conversation showed. Or was it just that he was hurting?

  “When do you take your next pill?”

  “Never, I hope. I didn’t like being brainless all afternoon.”

  “Will you be able to sleep without it?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t done much all day except sleep, and I’m really tired. The nurses told me to expect that.”

  I wished they’d told me.

  They would have, if he’d been able to reach me to bring him home. It was silly to feel so guilty, but that didn’t stop it.

  “Are you too tired for your other birthday present?” Gage leered to tell James what it was.

  My husband’s smile was weak and obligatory. “Sorry, but I don’t have the energy. Can I get a rain check? All I’m capable of is lying in this chair.”

  “Good, that’s exactly what you need to do.”

  “We’ll see. But first, what really happened to your ass? That’s no sunburn.”

  Oh boy. “We’d have to explain the whole evening, or most of it, for the truth to make any sense.”

  “Not really,” Gage said. “We had an argument—you and me, not Natalie—and I said some nasty shit. Which I didn’t mean,” he added. “I was really mad and knew how to hurt you, so I did. I felt terrible about it right away, but you left. While I was waiting for you to come back so I could apologize, I got the brilliant idea of handing you that paddle.”

  “Are you saying I did that?” James’s black-and-purple eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “Yeah. We both thought it seemed right.”

  “I sure as hell don’t now.”

  “I didn’t then,” I said. “I left the house, mad as hell at both of you.” Rightfully so. Wasn’t Gage going to tell him about James forcing himself down his throat?

  “As soon as we realized she was gone, we took your truck and went looking, to apologize. We were both pretty upset, and when we heard sirens… Anyway, she was at—Keenan’s, is it?—and she’d had a few, so you and I drove back.”

  “Why was it just me in the truck? Were we still arguing?”

  “No. We were coming home to talk through our differences,” I told him, “but you had to stop for gas, so I went with Gage.”

  “What differences?”

  I shook my head. “None. The accident erased them.”

  “Kind of strips things down to the bare bones,” Gage said. “I’m ashamed of fighting about petty shit.”

  “I still can’t believe I did that to you.” The black eyes and swelling only slightly distorted James’s wicked look. “Let me see it.”

  Gage turned his back to James and undid his fly. As he pushed his pants down, his eyes went flinty.

  Stuart had checked his handiwork too.

  “James, I don’t think—”

  “I’m sorry, and ashamed too, Gage. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Already done,” he said.

  “Thank you.” James gripped the arms of the old La-Z-Boy, which groaned as he pushed himself up. “Anybody ever tell you you’ve got a great ass?”

  Smile lines radiated from Gage’s eyes; the fitness regimen had stripped him of body fat everywhere. He shook his bared backside, then vamped a little, like a stripper who knows she’s got the goods.

  James whistled painfully loud. “Take it off, honey! Take it all off!”

  Gage obliged, with just a little peekaboo from the cover of his shirt, and a big finish that turned his rosy bottom toward James and bent as he wagged it, blowing kisses over his shoulder. We all laughed.

  “God,” James said, wiping at his eyes while holding his ribs, “that hurts.”

  “It sure did, sugar,” Gage lisped, then sobered. “I’m going to make you forget pain.” Gage reached for James’s fly.

  My husband was half-erect already. Gage knelt next to the recliner and took James’s penis in his mouth without hesitation. James moaned.

  Gage drew back. “Was that an ‘ow’ or an ‘ooh’?”

  “Ooh.”

  He smiled, first at James, then at me, before returning to his task. He bobbed his head rhythmically behind a cascade of dark hair, eliciting small contented sounds from Jamie. My husband’s relaxed mouth reminded me of the boyish man I’d lusted after when he rebuilt my aunt’s steps, and fallen for on our first date.

  I hadn’t been sure James Bedwell liked me all that much. All evening he’d been too much the gentleman, catching himself when he swore and apologizing, touching only my hand or arm, seeming ill at ease but gamely trying to show me a good time. Then he’d kissed me with those soft, full lips.

  My gratitude for that kiss edged toward arousal. James had pulled back and smiled, just like Gage, before giving me his mouth again, longer. By the end of the second kiss, I’d pressed my body to his shamelessly. He’d asked me out for the next night.

  We’d seen each other every day after that, sometimes on dates, other times just sharing errand running, but we didn’t do anything more than make out for months. I could feel his erection through his clothes. Yet when I moved to unzip him, he always stopped me with a beat-up hand. He never attempted to explore under my clothes.

  Later I learned he’d thought I wouldn’t. My inability to use four-letter and coarse words had led him to believe I objected on moral or religious grounds and might even be a virgin. He wasn’t going to be my first unless he was sure he loved me, and vice versa. While his assumption was ridiculous and wrong, it was also sweet.

  When he’d told me he loved me, and learned I loved him too, we’d abandoned our wine on the patio, just gotten up as one and gone straight to his bedroom, where the lovemaking was sweeter and much longer for having been delayed. The sex was new and we were young, able to complete the cycle of arousal, sex, and nap many times in a single night.

  Gage’s soft gagging pulled me out of my reverie.

  “Careful,” Jamie said softly.

  Gage continued, but within a minute, he was half retching, apparently pushing in even farther.

  “Not so deep,” Jamie said. “Jesus.”

  Gage sat up, his pink bottom on his heels. “But you love it. And I love you,” he said, as if that explained it. “And Natalie.”

  “And I love you, and Natalie, which is why I’d just as soon you didn’t choke yourself to death on my cock. Wrap your hand around the base, and move it with your mouth.”

  “Okay.” He bent again, his backside toward me.

  “That’s right,” Jamie said, “just like that. Join in, Natalie, any way you can. If you want. Which I hope you do.”

  There weren’t many opportunities, but a good one stared me in the face. I gently spread Gage’s
buttocks wide, not sure I could do this.

  The smell of soap wafted into my nostrils, and I remembered he’d arrived just showered. Still I hesitated, studying him.

  His cleft wasn’t pink or amber but a pretty gray that darkened abruptly and became browner in a ring around his tiny anus, where he was such a deep sable as to be nearly black. Ebony black hairs surrounded it in a feathery ring but didn’t obscure the view.

  He’d eaten mine, and it couldn’t possibly be as pretty. I kissed him chastely, with closed lips. His pleasure noise, muffled by Jamie’s penis, was unmistakable, and he tilted himself upward, asking for more.

  I gave it to him. The little dry kisses became moist ones, then included just the tip of my tongue, and finally became flat-out lapping as his tight little rosebud eased, then eased some more.

  Something should go in there, of course. “It’s time,” I said.

  “Hmm?” Gage asked.

  “Time for Gage to sit on Jamie’s big hard cock.”

  “Natalie!” my husband said.

  “You know it makes you hot for her to talk dirty,” Gage said. “Me too. Tell us more.”

  I licked his anus again. “You’re so wet, and he’s so hard. He doesn’t have to move to stick it way up your asshole.”

  Gage was already straddling the extended chair, his back to Jamie, their knees aligned. “I think I need your hands, Natalie. For balance. And yours for aim,” he added to Jamie, handing him a condom.

  I took both Gage’s wrists and he grasped mine as Jamie rolled the condom down over himself. Although Gage was taking my husband inside his body, it was my eyes he looked into with love. I could tell when they made contact, and when at least some penetration occurred.

  “Ow,” Jamie said.

  “Stop! Are you all right, Jamie?” My heart hammered.

  “Fine. He’s not wet enough, and it pulls. Nat, could you get us something?”

  “If she lets go of my hands, I’ll fall.”

  “Right onto my cock,” Jamie said. “Which might be okay. Here, let me…” He licked his own hand and applied the saliva, twice. “Let yourself fall. Quick, before it dries.”

  And before anyone had time to think. Gage let go of my wrists and reached below himself, spreading his cheeks, precariously balanced over Jamie and the recliner.

  He dropped a few inches, with a pained grunt.

  “Jesus!” Jamie’s voice was way too loud. “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to slide all the way down the banister.”

  I laughed, but Gage didn’t. His face remained twisted, eyes squinched tightly closed.

  “Easy, easy. I know it hurts,” Jamie crooned, “and you know if you ride it out, it’ll stop hurting and start feeling really good. Can you hang on until then?”

  “Yes.” Gage’s face had reddened, and his mouth was as tight as his voice.

  I reached for Gage’s wilting penis. “Before we fell asleep in the yard,” I said to my husband, “Gage told me he loves me as much as he loves you.”

  “He’s said he loves us both, lots of times.”

  “I know, but this time I believed him.” It was so pretty, fat and rosy brown even semisoft. I stroked it with one finger. He watched my hand on his shaft through eyes opened to narrow slits. I did it again.

  “Yeah. It’s always been true.” Gage sounded less pained already. “What blew me away is she loves me back.” He watched me trace the thick vein, already popping, with one finger, as if he’d never seen anything so amazing as his body’s response to sexual contact.

  “I thought she might,” Jamie said. “She falls slower than me. Has to analyze everything first. How you doing, better?”

  “Better. Good. I love your cock in me.”

  “I do too,” I said. “In me, I mean.”

  “Whose, mine?” Jamie asked. “Say it, babe.”

  I grinned. “Either one. You going to fuck his ass or talk?”

  “Neither,” Gage said. “He’s not going to do a thing. I’m going to fuck him with my ass.”

  “Oh, pardon me, Mr. Technicality.” Jamie grinned as he teased.

  I laughed.

  “What?” Gage said. “You don’t think I can?”

  “No, no. It’s that James is going to get off on a technicality.”

  They laughed briefly as Gage rearranged his legs while Jamie helped him balance, one hand firm on his back, the other ready to break the fall that looked certain.

  It didn’t happen. Gage, still impaled on Jamie’s penis, held his weight easily on thighs which in turn sat on the recliner’s upholstered arms. His toes just met the rug.

  He was strong, and lean. The muscles in his thighs moved in small bunches as he raised himself a few inches, and different muscles strained to control the lowering. His motions reminded me of a jockey astride a galloping horse.

  Jamie lay still except for his hands on Gage. “God, if you could see this,” James said.

  “Let me see.” I bent close to watch.

  Without lubrication, Jamie’s shaft wasn’t slithering in and out of Gage’s body but was tugging it, pushing the sable skin inside, then pulling it out, until a vividly pink ribbon of Gage’s inverted rectum showed for an instant. He probably wasn’t moving more than two inches, but the result was intimate and trusting in a new way.

  “That doesn’t hurt?”

  “Feels good, so long as I don’t go too far. Good for you, Jamie?”

  “Real good.”

  I returned to the front, studying the set-up for a way to take Gage in my mouth, but I couldn’t see any that didn’t involve breaking either my back or my neck. I circled him with my hand instead, and his eyes opened wider, warm on me, loving.

  As Gage varied the speed at which he rode, I kept up easily. He was excited, making wordless, soft sounds in his throat. He might come before Jamie, who was slack-mouthed, watching Gage’s anus turn itself inside out repeatedly, but hadn’t made a sound.

  Something creaked, the extended sound old horror movies use for a heavy door slowly opening for the first time in centuries. “What’s that?”

  “Ghosts,” Gage said.

  “Who cares?” Jamie answered. “We’ll check it out later.”

  Gage pulled himself up high, showing the widest band of pink yet.

  The crack of wood snapping was familiar.

  “Don’t move, Gage.” Jamie’s voice was stern and bossy. And strained.

  “It hurts.” His tone was plaintive. “Just take it out.”

  “It hurts me too. You’re only a half inch away from two big pointed wood screws. Natalie, help him up. He’s got to go straight up, first try.”

  Gage’s pain had squinted his eyes and mouth tight. I grabbed his wrists again, and he took mine. “Straight up,” I said and stepped backward and squatted low, to take his weight. He flinched and made a guttural noise as James’s penis left him; then he was clear, reeling for an instant before finding his balance. When I released his hands, one flew to comfort his anus.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. I just tightened up automatically. Real tight.”

  “Tell me about it,” James said, zipping up. “Damn near pinched me off.”

  “Sorry. Let’s get you out of the chair.”

  Between us, Gage and I helped James to his feet without scraping the screws that had held the La-Z-Boy’s arms in place, along with joints and glue.

  James was first to point at the chair and laugh. He managed to gasp, “We fucked it to death!”

  The upholstered arms waved at crazy angles, with daggerlike screws and ripped fabric protruding.

  “First your bed, now your chair.” Gage shrugged. “What else needs replacing?”

  Laughing so hard clearly pained my husband, but it was infectious, so much so that all three of us were weak and teary with it. We helped one another to the bedroom.

  James started undressing immediately, but stopped, his head enveloped in his T-shirt. “Help.”

  “Sure. What do you nee
d?”

  “Just pull it off me. It hurts to raise that arm. Fucked up my shoulder. They x-rayed it. It’s nothing.”

  Gage stepped in, gentle and efficient, removing the shirt without touching James’s face, then helped James out of his athletic shoes, socks, and finally his Levi’s. He deftly flipped the condom that came with the underwear into the wastebasket.

  “Man, you got beat to hell, didn’t you?” Bruises showed exactly where the seat belt had contained him. Many were bloodred under the skin, a few purple-black.

  “Yeah. I hurt all over, not just my head.”

  “Take the pain meds,” I said.

  “No.”

  “Just at night,” Gage added. “Sleep through the doped-up part.”

  “Toughing out pain doesn’t impress us, Jamie. Gage and I know what a real man you are, okay? Take the damned pills.”

  He did. We slept snuggled as close and comfortably as puppies in a basket.

  I woke at James’s usual time, though he slept on. I found a robe and paused at the foot of the big bed, where the men had separated in sleep, each sprawled on his back, snoring lightly. No wonder I’d woken.

  Silently, I padded to the kitchen to make waffles again.

  Chapter Forty

  Shortly after five that afternoon, James’s mother came over with dinner and Daniel; there would be no rivalry on this visit.

  I served iced tea while James told her what had happened beyond the minimal information he’d given her on the phone.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right. I was worried sick. ‘Mom, I wrecked the truck, but I’m fine. Just thought you should know.’ Click!” She shook her head.

  “I only know what they tell me,” James said.

  “I only know what I can see, which is your poor face. I’m just relieved you have Natalie and your friend to take care of you.”

  “Gage Strickland. Pleased to meet you.” He thrust his hand toward her, shook, then did the same to Daniel, who neither said his own name nor masked his disapproval.

  Of what? I sighed internally. Everything. If James did it, Daniel frowned on it.

  His mother kept her expression pleasant while her son explained that Gage had been with us nearly every day for a couple of months now, and that all three of us seemed very happy with the arrangement.