by Tom Collins
Dev eyed me. “You’re probably thinking you’d never let a man bust a nut up your ass, right?” I didn’t have a chance to respond before he leapt in again, “I thought the same before I met your uncle, and let me tell you, unless this whole thing is just a lark—I mean, if you’re not playing at being with this Oliver person—you want him to fuck you. There is nothing else like it. You might’ve played with your butt a little in private, but there’s no comparison. Trust me!”
It was my turn to blink. I never expected to get such a personal admission from him, and it served to reinforce my strong desire to go the whole nine yards—or, perhaps one should say, the whole six inches.
“Oh, Jeeze,” I said, checking the clock, “I’ve got to get going.” I tore off my notes and made for the front door. Dev walked me there.
“Can I call you,” I asked him desperately, “If I have more questions?”
“Yeah, sure.” He still seemed a bit stunned. I don’t suppose he’d ever expected to have this kind of a relationship with any of us terrible terrors. He gave me his cell number, eying me thoughtfully as I entered it into my phone. As I opened the door, he set his hand on it, stopping me.
“This Oliver…he’s into you, too, right?”
“I think so,” I said.
He gnawed on a lip, his expression troubled. “Look, Liam, your uncle is…unique. Most gay men, especially twenty-somethings are, well, men. Sex is like playing pool. You cross cues with whoever’s at the table, sink some balls into the pockets, then go on to the next game. I know I just told you to go all the way with this guy, but make sure he wants what you want first. You need to both be on the same page. And, just for me, I’d like it if you’d inform him, casually, that you’ve got at least one uncle-by-marriage who’ll be mighty unhappy if anyone causes his nephew any grief. Hear me?”
I smiled. “Yes, Uncle,” and then I kissed him on the check, which pretty well shocked the hell out of him.
I whistled on my way out, happy with that little zinger. My only regret was that I hadn’t gotten to know Dev this way sooner.
*Oliver*
I got to work a half-hour early Wednesday, as there was a meeting for the seven-to-seven shift. Everyone was seated or standing in the lounge, though I was grateful to see Gabe had saved me a seat at one of the round tables. I settled in next to him and brought out my breakfast sandwiches and orange juice as quietly as I could.
“Good time, yesterday?” my partner murmured, as I bit into the first of two English muffins filled with cold scrambled egg and turkey sausage patties. I always make them up the night before, and usually get a chance to warm them in the lounge microwaves. Not today.
“Very good,” I said, swallowing down the first bite with juice. I didn’t look his way and was grateful he wasn’t looking mine. “Liam and I…got along very well.”
“Hm,” he said.
“Good morning!” Our “Captain,” as she was referred to, was a nice looking lady of East Indian descent, clipboard in hand. “This won’t take long. It’s a reminder that starting Sunday, we’ll be entering fire season.”
A rueful chuckle from the crowd had me glancing around. What was this?
“For you newcomers,” she smirked, “that doesn’t just mean it’s going to be fiery hot. Fire season is our own personal code for Fourth-of-July week.”
I winced. Oh, yeah. The Fourth of July isn’t just one day to us EMTs, it’s a whole week, before and after the haloed day, when all sorts of accidents happen.
“We’ll be stocking your rigs with extra burn supplies,” she went on, “because you can bet your life we’re going to be joining the fire department at some backyard barbeques gone wrong, and both legal and illegal firework displays gone awry. You should brace yourselves for the usual holiday fare: drunks and car crashes.”
“Don’t forget idiots firing bullets into the air,” someone muttered and we all groaned in agreement.
The supervisor nodded. “It’s going to be a long, hot, crazy week. Let us know if you need anything. That’s all.”
Gabe stood up. I finished off my second sandwich in a few bites and downed the last of the orange juice. It was time to go down the list and make sure our rig had all needed medical supplies, a full tank of gas, and that every machine was in working order. It didn’t matter if dispatch had sent out the other crew that used our rig during their shift, or if those two had spent all their hours in the lounge and our rig was exactly as we’d left it the day before. It didn’t even matter if the other crew had restocked everything. The list was checked, first thing, every morning as well as in between trips if we got a chance, and last thing before we left if possible.
I had dreams about that list, usually nightmares where the item I most needed was missing or broken. Lately those dreams had also included, disturbingly, not having condoms so I could make love to Liam, who I envisioned lying naked there in the rig. In the worst ones, Gabe was there to chew me out for being so careless.
We were heading out when Gabe’s phone rang. He stopped and I stopped with him as he pulled it out. An auburn brow went up as he checked the number, and he glanced ominously at me as he answered it.
“What’re you doing up this time of the morning?” he asked in a tone that suggested he couldn’t imagine the caller pulling himself out of bed before noon. This was followed by a series of grunts. “Huh. Huh. Uh-huh.” Another suspicious glance at me. I felt guilty without knowing why. “Has this a point?” he demanded, and I feared I knew who he was talking to.
“Yeah,” the conversation grudgingly went on. “Yeah. He’s been wanting to see that. Yeah, it’d be okay with me. This Friday? Yeah. That’d be okay. Yeah. I’ll ask.”
He lowered the phone and green lasers targeted me. Shit. What had I done? “Want to go to a movie with me and my son and Liam Friday morning?” he demanded.
“Yes sir,” I heard myself say. I mean, I didn’t even consider if I wanted to go or not. There was no other way to respond to that look.
He got back on the phone. “What? Oh, I forgot.” He turned back to me, looking put-upon. “My nephew wants to know if he can bring you an early breakfast Friday morning.”
I gave this request even less consideration than the first one. “Absolutely.” Liam could bring anything over at any time he wanted, so long as he came with it.
“That’s fine,” Gabe said into the phone, “We’ll meet up at the theater at ten,” then he added, very pleasantly, “Nice idea. Looking forward to it.”
He shut his phone and checked the time on the little window outside. “Come on, we’re running late,” he said. I followed after, only realizing then I had another date with Liam.
*Liam*
Brendan and Jillian followed me into my room when I got home. They grilled me about the whole date, wheedling all the juicy details from me. It didn’t surprise me that Brendan wanted every nuance of the day brought up for scrutiny. He was as interested in men as I was, and would love Oliver vicariously through me, as I loved Jillian vicariously through him. What did surprise me was Jill’s interest. I didn’t mind her hearing about it since I knew Brendan shared everything with her the way he did with me. The thing was, she asked as many questions as he did and seemed as excited as Bren was by the answers. After they sated their curiosity, they went to their own room. No one doubted what was going on in that room for the next half hour.
Next day I got myself up early and called Uncle Gabe to arrange a Friday movie with him, Connor and Oliver. I thought a movie with my second youngest cousin and my uncle would be a good way to start easing him into the O’Shaughnessy family. I was more excited about breakfast though. Friday couldn’t come fast enough and Thursday’s shift at the pub dragged like the Titanic sailing the Colorado River.
When we got home from work, the three of us went through Bren and my wardrobe, trying to put the perfect outfit together with Erin looking on. We decided on the brilliant white jeans, but there were two shirts in the running. They were both short-sle
eved button-ups. One was white with navy blue pin striping, but the stripes weren’t just lines. They were tiny checkerboard patterns so small they weren’t discernable from even two foot away, running in vertical strips giving a pinstriped effect. The second shirt was one Uncle Joel gave us for our last birthday. It was a smoky, olive colored silk that iridesced gold in even dim lighting.
“Go with the green,” Erin piped in, surprising us. It was unusual for him to offer an opinion about clothes. “It’ll play up the eyes and that’s the best feature this family has. I can’t tell you how many ladies have fallen for my lovely eyes.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jill agreed. “That was what got me. I took one look into Bren’s eyes and wanted to drop to my knees right then.”
“Oh, really?” Bren asked, grinning at her.
“You have no idea how powerful your peepers are, baby,” she replied, kissing him in little pecks. Erin groaned in irritation; I grinned with less envy than usual. I went to bed, setting my alarm for five o’clock so I’d have plenty of time to get to Oliver’s apartment by seven.
That morning I took a speed shower of cold water to wake up and dressed in the olive and gold silk shirt, which I tucked into the white jeans. I always went commando with these jeans because they were on the tight side. In truth, the brilliant whiteness of the denim, when paired with the snug fit, gave a painted on effect. These were our girl impressing jeans and we had a feeling they’d work just as well on men, one man in particular. I rounded out my attire with a pair of scuffed Nikes to make the whole more casual.
I headed out, stuffing my wallet in my back pocket as I locked the door behind. I took the subway over to Oliver’s neighborhood, leaving me a walk of two blocks right past a Jewish deli and a green grocer. At the deli, I bought two huge onion bagels, a quart pound of lox and cream cheese. At the green grocer, I got a couple tomatoes so ripe they were beginning to lose their firmness and a bold proposition from the cashier.
I blushed like a virgin, I’m sure, “That’s an intriguing offer, and very complimentary, thank you,” I said, handing him the money, “but I have a boyfriend.”
He sighed, “Of course you do.” The man in line behind me chuckled. I turned and saw the older man Oliver and I had ridden in the elevator with on Tuesday. I headed for the door.
“He’s with Oliver,” I heard the man say as I pushed the door open. “You know, that new fellow in my—” the rest was lost as the door swung closed. I chuckled, amused by the gossip hounds.
Still, I sure liked the way it sounded. “He’s with Oliver,” I said a couple times on the elevator ride up to his floor. I was grinning like a fool when I knocked on his door, and grinning harder when he opened up. I pushed him deeper into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind me.
“Liam, wha—?” he started, even as I set the bags down and backed him up against the wall he’d shoved me against last time I was here. His eyes widened in surprise. He had on a pair of very thin blue pajama bottoms and I kissed him breathless, as I pushed them over his hips so they slid to the floor. He was naked and beautiful, the way I’d seen him in my head for the past two days. I filled my hands with his solid ass cheeks and pulled him against me. He stroked my back, teasing my spine and my hips ground against his.
Remembering his admonishment about being gentle, I kneaded his cheeks hard, pulling them apart a little so I could skim my fingertips into his crack. He moaned into my mouth and I’d swear his legs shivered.
Yes, I thought, this is what he wants. A man who acts like one and takes what he wants, rather than waiting for it to be offered.
If that’s what he wanted from me, that’s what he’d get. I lowered myself to my knees, using his pajamas to spare my white pants’ direct contact with the floor. His cock swelled before my eyes as I took hold of it and wrapped my lips around the head. He tangled his fingers in my hair, pressing down lightly with his palms, and his head thumped the wall softly.
Since he was half-hard, I could get the whole thing in my mouth and I took advantage by sucking the crown as far back as I could stand and swiping my tongue back and forth over the base. It wasn’t long before he was at full mast. I couldn’t take his entire length yet, but I used my hand on the bottom half to compensate and I kept my tongue moving. The trick Devlin had told me about stretching the jaw at the hinge was very helpful, though very tiring.
Much sooner than I’d anticipated, Oliver was holding my head and fucking my mouth. I relaxed, as Devlin advised, and used my left hand on his shaft to control how deep he could thrust, while managing his speed by holding his balls with my other hand. I looked up, making eye contact, trying to judge how close he was to coming. His pupils dilated.
“Fuck yeah…here I go,” he gasped.
I let lose of his nuts and slipped a couple fingers into his crack to rub his pucker. It quivered against the pad of my middle and ring fingers. I quit sucking and opened my mouth to accept my reward just in time. I gulped, jacking his shaft furiously and massaging his hole with firm pressure. Too soon he was spent, standing against the wall with his eyes closed, his lungs working like a bellows.
I stood, feeling good about how I’d done, catching him with my teeth just a couple times and gagging only once.
“God, I missed you,” I breathed against his lips and kissed him.
My pants felt too tight now that my cock was pulsing for attention, but I’d grown accustomed over the past week of living in a near constant state of arousal. I decided I wanted to tend to my stomach first now I’d had what I wanted most. I helped him pull his pajama pants up and grabbed the bags. He followed me, looking dazed. I washed up and began pulling food out of the bags, and thinking about where I’d seen Oliver stash his cutting board.
“You’ve been practicing,” he said. It wasn’t quite an accusation.
I looked up from pulling a frying pan out of the lower cupboard. He had a weird expression on his face. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Nah,” I replied. He relaxed a little and that’s when I saw the tension. “Well—yeah, Okay…kinda,” I conceded. “I did some research online, and got some stellar advice from my uncle—well, not my uncle-uncle,” I’d split the bagels and buttered them, now I set them butter-side down in the hot skillet. “He’s my Uncle Joel’s husband, Devlin, but we all call him Uncle. He’s a great guy and not the only lucky one in that relationship, I’ll say that much. Oh, and I bought a cucumber. My brother’s girlfriend’s idea.”
Oliver came over and stood with his hip touching mine. I checked the bagels for brownness and put my right arm around his waist. I stroked his side, loving the feel of his smooth skin and turned to get a kiss. He leaned in strong, wrapping his arms around me. I broke the kiss just in time to save the bread from burning and shooed Oliver away.
“Go on, you foul tempter. You’re gonna make me ruin breakfast and this is my Uncle Matthew’s recipe for ‘Perfect Bagels and Lox,’ so he’d be horrified if he found out your first taste of it was substandard.”
“Jeeze. How many uncles do you have, Liam?” he demanded. I thought about it.
“Six within my immediate family and four—no five others by marriage. I also have a number of cousins; one, Erin the cook, I live with, along with my brother and his girlfriend.”
“And you’ve got a sister.”
“Right. She’s in Ireland visiting family and won’t be back for another two weeks. I wonder if she’ll come home married? Both my Uncle Gabe and Aunt Katie did that. They visited the old country and returned with spouses.”
I’d assembled the sandwiches while I talked, spreading cream cheese on the browned top, dusting it with pepper and putting a couple slices of tomato on that, next I put a good layer of lox and topped that with the bottom. I pulled out a plate and turned the sandwiches onto it before cutting them in half.
I lured Oliver over to the table by waving the plate past him. His nostrils quivered and he came along like a good boy. I set the plate on the table and guided him int
o his seat. I made his lap my seat, snagged a half-bagel, and took a big bite. This was my favorite sandwich, no matter what time of day or year.
It felt weird at first, sitting in his lap. It should have been the other way around, someone in my lap, but you had to make compromises somewhere in a relationship like this one. I didn’t want him to think I thought of him as a girl by pulling him into my lap, so I sat in his to get the contact I craved.
He ate with one hand and caressed my legs through my jeans with the other, giving my obvious hard-on the occasional teasing stroke. He kept me hard and aching until I couldn’t think any more, much less eat.
All the while, he asked me innocuous questions about my family. All I could concentrate on was avoiding mentioning my little brother was also my twin. I so loved being an individual with Oliver. It was an amazing experience to have him look at me and not see that question in his eyes, “Where’s Brendan?” which always made me feel I was never just Liam. Even when my other self wasn’t around he was in the room making me Liam-Brendan.
To Oliver, however, only Liam existed, and that was fine with me for the time being.
*Oliver*
I’d created a monster. One mutual blowjob and two days later Liam was a professional hustler! What the hell?
He arrived earlier than expected. I’d been awake and lying in bed, and barely got a chance to open the door and greet him before he’d muscled his way into the room, secured the lock and had me up against the wall with my pajama bottoms pooled about my ankles. Next thing I knew his hands were roughly on my ass, his fingers teasing my crack and I nearly collapsed to the floor.
I would have turned to face the wall at that moment, letting him take my ass if he wanted it, but he sank to his knees and my cock rose to salute him. It was so hot, so erotically done, I nearly lost control just touching his hair. Wait! I urged myself, like before, but it was too late. That giving, loving mouth of his was on me, his tongue toying with every sensitive spot. Sparks shot up and before I knew it I was gyrating and bucking and warning him I was going to shoot.
