Caregiver

by Rick R. Reed

  Months had passed since Adams death, and even before he died, things with Sullivan had been strained, different—and Dan knew that Sullivan had begun his mourning process for the man he loved long before he was in the ground. It was sad but true.

  Tonight was Dans turn to cook. He wanted to keep things light and simple (Calculated? Perhaps.). He had made a salad of oranges and arugula (what his mom called “rocket”); it chilled in the refrigerator. Dan would bring it out about an hour before dinner and dress it with a little olive oil and red wine vinegar, shaving a bit of Parmigiano-Reggiano on to it. Later he would take a couple medallions of veal, pound them almost paper-thin, dredge them in flour, and sauté them quickly in lemon and wine. A few roast potatoes with some rosemary and olive oil would round out the meal. A bottle of valpolicella chilled in the fridge.

  Nothing had really happened to bring Dan to this decision, this maybe upcoming act of seduction—nothing other than time passing and him knowing, more and more, that he wanted no one other than Sullivan. He loved Sullivans quiet strength, his deep voice, his dark hair… and his long legs and broad shoulders. Hey, he wasnt too proud to admit he was in lust too.

  Over the months since Mark had left, Dan had tried to find someone other than Sullivan. He really had. At the racquetball league, at various bars, even at Passe a Grille beach on Sundays—he always found sex easily and quickly and that was okay, but it was like having a snack when you wanted a meal. He even dated a few guys properly, dinners and movies, but nothing ever stuck.

  And every time he was laughing and cooking in a kitchen with Sullivan, he knew why—the man before him was the one he wanted. There was already, between them, a sense of home.

  Sometimes, the simple truth takes a while to hit you squarely in the face.

  So, a good meal, a nice bottle of wine, some candlelight… these tools of the romance trade had worked for generations, so why couldnt they work for him? Dan was pretty certain that Sullivan reciprocated his feelings. He was uncertain, though, if he was ready to act on them. The man still hurt a lot—unlike Dan, he had not played the field at all and Dan was pretty sure if something did happen tonight in his bed (on which he had just placed—optimistically— freshly laundered sheets), it would be the first time for Sullivan in a long time.

  Dan checked the refrigerator one final time to make sure he had everything he needed for the meal, then headed off to the shower, dropping his shorts and T-shirt along the way.

  Dan took his time in the shower, luxuriating in the spray of hot water and carefully washing every part of himself twice, just to be sure. He shampooed and conditioned. He shaved his face and, for good measure, his balls and the pubic hair above his cock, hoping for an optical illusion of added length.

  He had barely finished dressing, in loose-fitting linen pants and a pale blue T-shirt that accented his tan, when he heard a knock at the door. Barefoot, he hurried to answer it, his heart beginning to thud with excitement.

  Sullivan stood outside, grinning. He carried a handful, a half dozen or so, of irises. Somewhere along the way, Dan remembered telling him that the purple flowers were his favorite. Hmmm, maybe theres some telepathy going on here tonight between us. Perhaps I am not the only one with plans for a very special dessert. Dan smiled and opened the door wider. “What did I do to deserve flowers?”

  Sullivan stepped in. “That remains to be seen.”

  Dan stepped on tiptoe to give Sullivan a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. You look great tonight.” And he did. Sullivans simplicity only accentuated his masculine beauty. Tonight, he had on a pair of faded jeans, a crisp white button-down Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his hairy forearms, and a pair of Topsiders, which he ditched almost immediately. Dan could not recall when he had seen such sexy feet. Sullivan had not shaved in what looked like a couple of days, and his dark stubble was several hours beyond five oclock.

  “Thanks, kid. You dont look so bad yourself. Those pants are scandalous.” Sullivan leered downward. Dan was glad the fact he hadnt bothered with underwear was taken in so quickly… and, it appeared, appreciated.

  “Dinner tonight is simple, just a few family favorites and a good bottle of wine.” Dan moved into the apartment. “Let me find something to put these in.” While he was searching for a vase to no avail (he discovered, to his chagrin, he didnt own one), Sullivan settled in on the couch. Dan made do with a jumbo tumbler, cut the flowers stems and arranged them in the glass. He put the irises on the breakfast bar. The evening was off to a good start.

  “Its only gonna take a few minutes once I start cooking, so would you like a glass of wine, first? Or a beer?”

  “Ill take a beer. How about some music?” Sullivan crossed over to the stand where Dan had arranged his TV and stereo equipment. Sullivan squatted to peruse the CD tower next to it. He let out a little cry of delight. “Someone went shopping! Nina! And Billie Holliday! Im glad to see Im having a bit of influence on your musical tastes.” He turned on the receiver and CD player and within moments Nina Simones smoky voice spilled into the apartment. Dan grinned. The first song of the evening was the very naughty and suggestive “Sugar in my Bowl.”

  Dan put the potatoes he had tossed in the pre-heated oven, took the salad out to temper, and grabbed two beers. He returned to the living room and sat next to Sullivan on the couch. They clinked their bottles together and drank at the same time. Dan had a fierce urge to lean over and transfer some of his own beer into Sullivans mouth, but held himself in check. Take it slow, boy, slow. This isnt a race. Its about enjoying—hopefully—every moment.

  Dan was surprised he was able to get through the evening on good behavior, in spite of how he hoped the evening would end up. His sexual encounters of late had had no elements of seduction— foreplay consisted of closing the front door and going at each other like animals, ripping off clothes, and being lucky if they made it to the bedroom instead of the couch or, sometimes, the dining table.

  Dan wanted—needed—for tonight to be different.

  The men enjoyed the meal Dan had prepared and Sullivan rhapsodized over the veal and confessed he had never had oranges in a salad before, or arugula, for that matter. “The bitter and the sweet go so well together.”

  Dan thought that the description could have been applied to Adam, but didnt say that.

  After the meal, they moved into the living room, where Dan produced another of his recent musical purchases, a greatest hits collection by Sarah Vaughan. Sullivan grinned when he brought it out. “A man after my own heart.”

  When “Make Yourself Comfortable” came on, Dan set his wine glass down on the coffee table, turned to Sullivan, and asked, “Would you care to dance?”

  Sullivan laughed self-consciously and a flush of crimson rose to his cheeks. “Really? Just us?”

  Dan looked around. “I dont see anyone else here. Please?” Dan stood, holding out his arms. If he doesnt stand up, like in five seconds, I am going to die of embarrassment.

  Sullivan finally did get to his feet and let Dan take him into his arms. They began moving in slow circles around the living room, their bodies pressed close. Once they bumped into the coffee table and giggled, but after a while, things went silent, save for the music, their breathing and, Dan would swear, the beating of their hearts. They stayed that way through two more songs, one of which had an inappropriate-for-slow-dancing tempo that did not deter them, and then the CD ended.

  “What do we do now?” Sullivan whispered into Dans ear, his breath hot, causing what felt like a line of silken electricity to run up and down Dans spine. His dick bulged, almost painfully hard, out in front of him. He was sure Sullivan felt it… and not only because he was aroused, but because Sullivan was too.

  Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to pull away, though neither of them was moving any longer. So they stood, for what seemed like hours, just holding each other in the now almost-dark room, lit only by the taper candles flickering on the dining room table.

  “What
would you like to do?” Dan whispered, cursing himself for not having a cleverer, or at least more assertive, response.

  “I dont think we need to talk about it.” Sullivan pulled away from him and stood, waiting.

  Dan took his hand and led him into the bedroom, stopping for a moment to blow out the candles on the table.

  Dan left only the Levelor blinds in the bedroom open for illumination. Outside, a nearly full moon had risen and it cast silvery slats upon the bed from where it shone in between the blinds. The light in the room was grayish and dim, just enough to make undressing less awkward than it was.

  Yet, once they had retreated into the bedroom and the course of the evening was locked into place, both mens passions seemed to have been replaced by, if not fear, then shyness. Neither said anything as they took off their clothes. Dan couldnt help eyeing Sullivans figure, almost ghostly white in the moonlight, as he shed shirt and jeans. Dan did not miss the fact that Sullivan also hadnt bothered with wearing underwear that night. Dan took his time pushing his linen pants down, kicking them off, because he wanted just this moment to take Sullivan in.

  He wasnt perfect, but he was perfect for Dan. His body was lanky and he had just the beginnings of a tiny pot belly, but those things were more than compensated for by his broad shoulders, his smooth chest with its well-defined pecs, and the treasure trail of dark hair that pointed down in an arrow to what looked like a painfully erect cock. Dan sucked in a breath as he eyed it, its purple head raised straight up, as if it could smell him in the room.

  Dan laughed aloud at the analogy and Sullivan immediately looked worried. “What? I know I need to lose a few pounds.”

  Dan went to him, naked, his own erection bouncing proudly in front of him. “No. No. I wasnt laughing at you. Youre beautiful. It was just a silly thought. Please….”

  And Dan took Sullivan in his arms, their naked bodies coming together for the first time. The moment was magic, searing—the feel of all that skin pressed together was indescribably sensuous. Dan could feel Sullivans cock spasming against his own belly and looked down.

  Sullivan pulled away from him, grinning sheepishly, and grabbing at the base of his cock. “That was close! Im sorry. Its been so long.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah… it was a year ago, almost, the last time Adam and I were together, and even that wasnt any good. I was so afraid of catching something.” Sullivan sat down on the bed, his lean legs spread out before him, his cock still rising up from between his thighs. “Wasnt that silly?”

  Dan sat down next to him, leaning so that their shoulders touched. “No, its not silly. People are dying out there, so I understand.” This was not a topic upon which Dan wanted to dwell at the moment, so he added, simply, “I just got tested, by the way, and Im negative.”

  “Good.”

  “And just to be sure, there are condoms and lube in the drawer over there.”

  Sullivan glanced to where Dan had pointed and nodded. “If we get that far.”

  “Hey, if you come, you come. Dont think Ill be disappointed. I dont care if it takes you a few minutes or a few hours. I just want to put a smile on your face.” Dan slid down to the floor, positioning himself between Dans thighs, and looked up at him. “Should I start trying right now?”

  Sullivan nodded and Dan took him, with one fluid gulp, deep into his mouth. Sullivan cried out and Dan could feel muscles bunching and clenching everywhere but Sullivan didnt come. Sullivan clenched Dans hair so tight it hurt, but Dan didnt complain.

  His mouth was full.

  Somehow, Sullivan managed to stave off orgasm for the next half hour or so, all through the protracted sixty-nine, the passionate kisses, and finally, the moment when Dan entered him, Sullivan on his back with his legs on Dans shoulders, eyes looking upward and filled with trust. The moment softened Dans heart, if nothing else. Once Dan slid inside his channel, there was no holding back for either of them. With a yell, and without even touching himself, Sullivan spurted long, arcing jets of come across his stomach and chest. The first ones hit the headboard and the pillow behind his head, then they gradually decreased, hitting his cheek, his chin, neck, stomach, and the last few drops pooled in his pubic hair.

  This sight sent Dan blasting off inside Sullivan and, although he had had sexual encounters in the recent past, he believed his orgasm was no less intense than Sullivans. He collapsed, sweating, onto Sullivans body.

  For a long time, Dan simply lay on top of Sullivan, holding him, allowing their heartbeats and respiration to return to normal. And then he felt something curious. It was as though Sullivans body was quivering. Dan pressed himself even more against him, their bodies glued together by spent semen, listening.

  He realized Sullivan was crying. And not just a soft weeping, but sobbing. Dan reached down and grabbed his cock—and the condom—at the base and pulled out. He dropped the condom on the floor and rolled over so he lay next to Sullivan.

  Sullivan turned his head away, his shoulders still heaving.

  “Hey, hey. Whats the matter?” Dan whispered.

  It took Sullivan a few moments to compose himself enough to speak. But when he could, he said, “I dont know. Im so happy. Im so sad.” He turned and looked at Dan, who could easily read the paradoxical mixture of anguish, relief, and affection on Sullivans handsome features. “I never cheated. Not once. Even when we stopped pretty much having sex. I could never be with anyone else… not in that way.” He touched Dans chest, rolling a nipple lazily between his fingers, and then stopped. “I never cheated.”

  “And youre not cheating now.”

  “Why does it feel like it?”

  “Because you loved him—and, in his way, he loved you. But he would want you to be happy and, in a weird way, I kind of think hed like the idea that this first time was with me, someone who knew you both.” Dan swallowed and without even thinking about it, said, “Someone who loved—no, loves—you both.”

  “You dont love me. You hardly even know me.”

  “Yeah, I think I do.” Dan rolled over, so his body pressed against Sullivans. “Know you. Love you.” He licked and kissed away the tears on Sullivans cheeks, savoring their salty warmth because they were his. “I think I fell for you the moment I first came to your house and saw you walk in that door.” Dan paused for a moment, remembering. “And I think Adam saw it too.”

  Sullivan grinned. “He did—he said as much after you left.” Sullivan wrapped his arms around Dan and squeezed him. “Do you really think this is okay? You dont think its—I dont know—a betrayal?”

  “I think its great. And I think its only going to get greater.”

  Almost too softly to hear, Sullivan said, “I think so too.”

  That night, Sullivan did not tell Dan he loved him, but Dan was glad—it would have been too soon. It was enough that he drifted off to sleep in Sullivans arms.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  IT WASThanksgiving morning. Dans mother had pleaded with him to come home for the holiday, but Dan got out of it by saying he just didnt have enough time off to consider making the trip north. It was a lie, but a kind one.

  Besides, he had another reason for wanting to stay in Tampa for Thanksgiving. Sullivan. Since that special “first” night together, the pair had been inseparable, and sometimes Dan himself couldnt believe how perfectly their hearts, souls, minds, and spirits meshed. Rather than a betrayal of Adams memory, Dan saw their burgeoning love as more of a tribute—the coming together of the two men who cared most about Adam at the end of his life.

  It was a lovely thing.

  More and more, Sullivan spent nights and days off at Dans apartment, making memorable love in every room and every position, cementing them even more soulfully together. But they also shared quiet times, cooking, or just watching TV, their arms and legs intertwined comfortably as they laughed through an episode of The Golden Girls or cried through one of The Wonder Years.

  They spent weekends at the beach, or rollerblading along Bayshore
Boulevard, or walking the trails at Lettuce Lake Park.

  They seldom stayed at Sullivans—there was still too much of Adam there. It had been his home too, and it just felt more right for the new couple to be in a place where thoughts of Adam did not conjure up a past.

  And today, Dan and Sullivan would celebrate their first holiday together. It was appropriate that it was Thanksgiving because Dan knew that each of them had a lot to give thanks for.

  Before him on the kitchen counter was a whole turkey. The night before, Dan had brined it in a solution of stock, rosemary, thyme, sage, salt, and brown sugar. Now, he massaged the flesh with olive oil and stuffed fresh rosemary and sage under the skin. He would fill the cavity with lemons and oranges, cut in half. It was going to be perfect. Hed also make his moms famous oyster stuffing, mashed sweet potatoes with orange zest and maple syrup, and a salad of baby greens, walnuts, dried cranberries and Maytag blue cheese.

  He recalled the conversation hed had with Sullivan about twenty minutes before. Sullivan, like a child, had been positioned in front of the TV, with a bowl of Frosted Flakes in his lap, watching the Macys parade.

  “I hate to bother you,” Dan said.

  Sullivan turned around and Dan snickered at the small halfmustache of milk on his upper lip. “What?”

  “I dont have any kosher salt. I need it as the finishing touch for the skin. But I used it all up last night in the brine.”

  Sullivan moved easily to the kitchen, looking hot in only his boxers. Dan was tempted just to put everything on hold for an hour or so and wrestle the man into the bedroom. But there would be plenty of time for that later, once he got the turkey in the oven. As they did at his childhood home, Dan wanted his and Sullivans holiday feast to take place early in the day. For one, it would help continue a small tradition, helping the couple define themselves as a family—which, more and more, Dan was convinced they were becoming. For another, it would allow them time for a nice after-dinner beach walk. Dan was thinking Passe a Grille beach, within view of the beautiful—and pink—Don Cesar hotel. Maybe that could be a new tradition to blend with the established one.