Heart and Soul Chapter 11
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11
Two Houses
(Two Years After I Met Don)
Corey was out of school for the holidays. His time off was divided equally between Cooper and Natalie. I was excited to see him join us for coffee a few days after Christmas.
L.B. joined us for a rare Sunday morning. He explained that he got off at midnight the night before. The days after Christmas were lighter at the bar. People were with family, or they had spent too much money over the holidays. He said it would pick up again near New Year's Eve. I didn't get to see him and Mitch together often. They were a great couple. I could see the love between them, which warmed my heart. Mitch and Cooper had gone through so much pain two years ago.
"Did you get what you wanted for Christmas, Mr. Emory?" Corey asked.
"Well, kiddo, I have everything I need. I was hoping to be able to drive again by Christmas, but Santa didn't make that happen."
"I'm sorry. You sure look better and sound better though. Like you used to."
"Well, I'm getting there. A little each day. It's nice of you to say so though."
"You're doing great," Cooper said.
I did sound better. I knew my speech was still affected by the stroke, but I felt I was clear and able to be easily understood. I knew some inflection and enunciation was not quite the old me, but day by day I was continuing to improve.
Corey started talking about some of his gifts. As he did so, I slowly scanned the table. What a diverse set of men we were, particularly in age. Mitchell and L.B. were in their 30s. Larry was approaching 40, and Cooper had crossed that line. Don was now 74, and I was 67. Corey, bless him, was 16. What a range. But even though we were all so vastly different, we cared for each other so much. These people ... they were really my gifts.
"Of course, I didn't get a car," Corey concluded.
"Son..." Cooper chided.
"I know. I know."
Cooper looked at the table. "We are teaching him financial responsibility. We've opened an account at the bank. For everything he puts into it, both his mother and I are going to match it." He looked at his son. "In time, you'll be able to buy a used car that you want."
"I knooow," he groaned. Then under his breath, he muttered, "Aiden's parents bought him a car."
I didn't know the finances of any of these men in detail. Surprisingly, not even Don's. I knew Cooper did well enough that he could buy a used car for Corey, but I respected him for teaching Corey how to handle money. Corey had worked part-time during the Christmas season at Basil and Chianti. The restaurant had been busy with holiday parties and just patrons in general. He knew going in that it was only through the Christmas break. Restaurants slow down after the holidays as people recover from holiday spending. But he said he really liked working.
"And I get to eat. The food there is great. I watched one of the chefs cook for a few minutes the other night. I think I could do it."
I had to assume that Mitch made more than L.B. After they had moved in together, that helped both with their finances. It's strange that Don and I didn't really have concerns over "finances," but the same would be true for us.
But we never talked about that.
"Well, the best present I got for Christmas is being off from December 24 through January 1," Mitch said.
"I'm off from school. How is time off a gift?" Corey asked.
"Because I get to spend way more time with L.B., Corey. Time is the best gift of all." Mitch looked at his partner and they gave each other a quick kiss.
"You're too sweet," L.B. said.
"Totally!" I said sarcastically. "Brad needs to top of my coffee because I can't drink it now because it has so much sugar in it."
"Emory!" Don admonished.
"Aw hell, they know I'm kidding." I looked at Corey. "Aw heck, I mean."
Corey rolled his eyes at me. Larry just smiled through it all.
A feeling of happiness crashed over me like a wave. It swarmed me with warmth. I was among truly great friends. More so, they were my family, now that my blood relatives were gone.
"Anyway," Mitch continued. "L.B. and I only get to see each other for a little bit on the weekends. Our schedules are so opposite, our time is limited, and ... well, this was our first Christmas together and ... I loved it." He reached to squeeze L.B.'s hand.
There was no insinuation in Mitchell's words, but I was positive the two of them were fucking every day.
I glanced at Cooper. I knew Mitch and Cooper had shared a couple of Christmases together before breaking up, and Corey was a part of that.
I then looked at Corey trying not to stare while doing so. His expression seemed to be one of happiness for Mitch, but I could tell there was reflection on when Mitch was part of his homelife too in the days he got to stay with Cooper.
The more I listened to Corey talk, I could decipher the intelligence in him. He was mature. While he still had teenager moments, I couldn't picture young kids in high school wanting to sit with a bunch of old guys like us. Corey craved it. He wanted to be an adult. And when he spoke about his studies at school, I could tell he was very smart. Cooper tried not to brag about him too much, but he told us all how proud he was of Corey. He was excelling at school. Of course, he could never say that in front of his son without being scolded by him.
"So, Mr. Emory, are you liking living at Mr. Don's place?" the teenager asked.
And the wave of warmth receded with the tide.
I didn't live at Don's place. I was just there temporarily in my recovery. And yet, the two of us still hadn't discussed it.
"I'm just there while I'm recovering, Corey," I answered quietly. "I still have my house, although I've hardly seen it these past two months. Occasional trips have been it."
"You two should ..." And then Corey stopped. He knew before he finished that it was a comment he probably shouldn't make.
Damn it. I was feeling so good too. Now I had all this conundrum being debated in my head. Again.
Still, the morning was quite nice.
Soon, we decided to head out. Don and I wished everyone a Happy New Year.
"Can we stop by my place on the way home?" I asked.
"Certainly," Don said, very agreeably.
As we approached my house, I looked at it from the outside. It was fine. It was a nice-looking house, but I hadn't tended to the yard in over two months. Don had someone mow it, but that was about it. Inside, it almost seemed foreign. I hadn't slept there since early October. I fiddled with mail briefly. There wasn't much else to check on. I looked out back. Everything seemed fine and in its place.
I went down into the basement to grab something. Don checked on things in the refrigerator. We had disposed of produce and dairy long ago. Everything remaining seemed consumable he guessed.
By the time I returned to the top step, I was tired. I did it without any help other than the handrail, but I wanted to sit for a moment.
"What did you get? Why didn't you send me?"
"I knew where it was."
Don picked up the paper bag and pulled out a bottle.
"Dom Perignon?? How on earth do you have a bottle of that?"
"Actually, it was a retirement present from someone at work. I never really had a reason to drink it. I thought we might enjoy it New Year's Eve."
"Well. Sure. We have things to celebrate."
—
"Are you sure you want to go to Zane's and Enrique's party?" Don asked.
"I do for a little while," I answered. "I still want life to go on. I'm well enough to make an appearance at least."
"That's fine. I just don't want you to tire yourself."
"We only need to go for a couple of hours. I won't make it to midnight, that's for sure."
"I doubt if I do either. At our age?? Why bother."
"Hey. We're not dead, you know."
"Oh, I know. I'm hoping our fireworks happen before midnight," he said with a wink.
When we arrived at 8 o'clock, not everyone was there. For partiers, it was rather early. Zane and Enrique, however, were delighted to see us. They had come to visit a couple of times during my recovery, both in the hospital and the house.
Don's house.
If I was going to take "pills" later, I opted only for bottled water. Perhaps our hosts felt it had to do with the stroke and medications and whatnot. Neither of them questioned why I wasn't having anything alcoholic. They were just pleased to see me. Admittedly, I enjoyed seeing them too.
"That's what you wore two years ago when we met, isn't it?" Don asked.
"Yeah. I got it on the last visit to my place. I thought it looked nice then ... and now it reminds me of us, of course."
Don looked at the white mock turtleneck and gray sport coat. "I love that you think of it that way. You look sharp, my dear."
I had always felt like an "old guy" with the much younger attendees of their party. The stroke only emphasized that. But being with Don made it easier. I wasn't a "lonely old guy." A lot had changed in two years.
Just after 10, we made our escape.
Upon arrival at Don's house, he hung our coats. "Go take you know what," he said, not even looking at me.
"We just got in the house."
"Sorry. I want you. I want to make love to you on New Year's Eve. And who knows how long this old body of mine will stay awake."
He probably said those words for my benefit, figuring I would tire more easily. However, I did as I was directed.
"Do we need anything else to eat?" Don called out from the kitchen as I swallowed pills.
"Lord, no. I was avoiding alcohol, not the food."
I returned to the living room to find the Christmas tree had been turned on. Its blend of blue and white lights pleased me. I never liked the multi-color lights on trees. But these two colors worked for me.
Don had made us a hot tea. As we sat on the couch, his hand drifted over my leg. We sipped our tea. Simple conversation continued between us, mostly about the party. But as we spoke, the back of Don's hand routinely grazed my crotch. He was toying with my anatomy, bringing it to life once the pills took effect.
Within twenty minutes, he was quite aware that I was hard as a rock. I was surprised when he pulled the coffee table back.
"What are you up to?"
He smiled and unzipped my pants, pulling my hard dick out the fly of my boxers. I had a huge grin as I watched his head lower, his lips parted to slide my erection into his mouth.
"God, yes," I breathed.
Slowly, his head bobbed on my organ, bringing it to its full length. Its full hardness. Its full purpose.
"Ohhhh, babe," I moaned. "That's so nice. Suck it."
My cock was wet and licked and swallowed and sucked.
"Stay here," he said, pulling off my erection. And he walked to the bedroom.
Had he not directed me to stay, I would have naturally followed.
He came back to the living room completely naked holding lube and a towel.
I smiled, equally confused and curious.
His cock was a divining rod straight to me. I sat up to move it into my mouth. I felt the last pulses of stiffness strengthen in my mouth. Don placed his hands around my head as I sucked on his cock ever so slowly.
"Emoreeeee," he breathed.
I moaned on his flesh. I cherished tasting the man I loved. Licking his stretched skin. Breathing in the male scent of all that was Don.
"Baby, fuck me," he groaned.
I stood, taking every bit of clothing off me in mere seconds.
We stood there, kissing and groping each other's anatomy. Feeling. Pulling. Grabbing. Fondling.
Suddenly, Don stretched out the towel on the couch and plopped his body on it. He threw a leg over the back of the couch and dripped lube into his crack. A finger rubbed his hole with it. His arms motioned me to him. He spilled more lube in his palm and quickly slickened my engorged cock.
"I need you in me," he breathed.
I spread my body above him. His hand, still slightly coated, guided the head of my dick to his exposed entrance. Gently I pushed in. Don was so quick to have me fuck him that he wasn't particularly ready for my full length. His body lurched for a moment. I retreated Pedro from the frontlines.
"Sorry," he whispered. "Again. Slow."
I had been fairly slow the first time, but he took it all. This time, I was even more gradual. Don breathed deeply. He looked intently into my eyes and nodded. My manhood moved in and out of my partner's body. We were joined. We groaned.
"Em, stop for a second."
I pulled out. "What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
"Lord, no. It's blissful." His arm gestured to the light switch. "Hit the lights."
I got off the couch and darkened the room. The Christmas tree was festive in its illumination. It suddenly switched from Yuletide merriment to erotic illumination.
I gazed at the naked man stretched open for me, bathed in white and blue mini lights. His dick, as usual, was a hammer. With medical help, Pedro was equal to the task.
I carefully placed my knees on the couch; my stiff arms hovered my body above him. The head of my cock found the appropriate spot again; I entered Don once more, whose body was completely willing to take all of me. We both groaned.
Don reached up to place his hands on both sides of my face. He pulled us together and we entered into a deep kiss.
We kissed. We fucked.
Kissed.
Fucked.
Kissing.
Fucking.
As our mouths separated, Don growled in sexual gratification. He called out my name. He cursed in sexual terms. He whined in erotic bliss.
I felt his hands reach for my butt cheeks, pushing me into his channel even deeper.
"FUCK ME!" he commanded.
"Yeah," I agreed.
Fucking.
Fucking.
Fucking.
My erection was a branding iron. Hot. Seething. Stiff.
Fucking.
Fucking.
Fucking.
We stopped using words. We just moaned and screamed and grunted. Pushing our bodies together in the most loving of connections. Joined.
Fucking.
Fucking.
Fucking.
"Ungh. Ohhhh. Ungh. UNGH. Yeah. Ohh. Ungh. Aaaaahhhh. Ungh."
Don's arms reached through mine and held my shoulders. Our eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Dots of white and blue reflected in Don's eyes. Our stare became everything. My dick said I loved him. My breathing said I loved him. But more than anything, my eyes told him that I loved him more than anything. His eyes said it back to me.
"Don. Ohhhh. Don. Ohhhh. OHHHHH!"
"That's it, baby. Come all inside me. Shoot your love into me."
"FUCK. DON! UNGH! OHH! UNGGHH! UNGH! GOD! OHHHH! Oh. Ohhhhhhh."
"Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes," Don cooed as my warm liquid coated his insides.
We kissed. I kept Pedro inside him. We kissed. My cock stayed hard. We kissed.
I let my body slip to the floor on my knees, and I swallowed his cock again. Sucking. Don groaned as I serviced his thick weapon. Licking. Consuming.
Two minutes later, he noticed my dick was still fully erect.
"Emory. Can you ... can you fuck me some more?"
I looked at Pedro. He was standing at attention.
"I can try."
Then Don sat up. He scrambled to his knees on the couch cushions and held the back of the piece of furniture with his arms. "More please."
I smiled and moved my body up behind him.
There was no way I could come a second time. At 67?
I looked down at Pedro, who was daring me. I was still very hard even after having an incredible orgasm just minutes ago.
But there was no way.
I moved my cock back into Don. He groaned feeling me stretch his hole and fill him. I questioned if I was actually feeling some of my cum inside him, but I figured I was imagining it.
I began a steady rhythm. It was not nearly as pleasurable as it was twenty minutes earlier, but it felt good still the same.
"Keep going, baby. I love your fucking me."
There was no way I could come a second time, but I wanted to please Don.
For some reason, I liked the standing position. I never felt standing was a good way to have sex, but I wrapped my arms around him and pushed my dick further into him. It was a bear hug from behind while my hard-on plowed into him.
Hearing Don growl moved the pleasure needle. The sensations in my cock awakened again, bringing the sexual stimulation back to my thrusting actions.
I adjusted my arms. One wrapped around his chest, the other grabbed his erection.
"Ohhh, yes, Emory. Jerk it. Stroke it."
The second round of sex became more fun. Don cheered me on as I did double-duty.
Fucking.
Stroking.
"Ohhh. Ohh, baby. Yes. It's good. It feels so good. Stroke my cock!"
I kept shoving my rod inside my partner. Pushing. Ramming.
"Fuck, yes, Emory! Fuck yes."
Listening to Don feel pleasure never failed to gratify me. He made making love ... fun. Perhaps a lifetime of not finding his true love really taught him to express his sexual satisfaction once we were able to share our lives. His wonderfully hard cock was always at the ready.
"Ungh. Oh ... ungh. Emory. Fuck me hard. FUCK ME!!"
He grunted with each of my thrusts. For men our age, we had the volume of studs in their twenties.
Screaming.
Fucking.
Making love in the glow of Christmas lights.
Don leaned upright. I moved my arm around his neck into a loving headlock. He tilted his head back.
I panted into his ear.
"I love you," he breathed.
"Me too. I love you," I whispered in a deep rasp.
And I fucked him hard.
I grabbed his cock more firmly and stroked it with all my might.
"You make me so hard, Emory. I love making love with you."
"Me too."
And I fucked him hard.
"FUCK ME. OHHHH GOD. I LOVE IT!!"
"Me too," I whined.
My erection felt incredible again.
And I fucked him hard.
"OH GOD! You're going to make me come. YES! FUCK ME, BABE!"
That drove me. Don unloaded on the towel on the couch. I doubtfully had much to shoot but it was all inside him. My second orgasm caused my legs to shudder.
He breathed hard; I breathed hard. Panting. Gasping.
We collapsed onto the couch. I was exhausted. Holding each other in our arms, we took a moment to regain normal breathing.
"We're lying in my cum," he said.
"I'm fine with that."
"Not that someone at my age has a lot to unload."
"You're at the higher end of the scale, my love."
He smiled, and we kissed. Our cocks were still pressed into each other.
Oddly, my penis still had not gone down. Was this going to be one of those situations from the commercials where I was to seek attention for an erection lasting for more than four hours??
We kissed and held.
"Happy New Year, love," he said.
"It's 10:53," I said, after looking at the clock on the television.
"We've at least had fireworks."
"We sure did." I kissed him again, and then he rested his face on my chest. We held each other in silence.
Minutes later, we were asleep.
—
A spray of bottle rockets caused me to stir. I looked at the clock. It was 12:07. Don had turned to spoon into my arms. It was amazing that he had not rolled off the couch.
I realized Pedro had fallen asleep too.
I kissed Don's ear. "Happy New Year," I whispered.
He slightly moved. "Mmm."
I held him tighter.
We breathed, just being slightly awake.
Then Don jolted. "Wait!"
I was startled. "What?"
"You wanted to do champagne."
"Ah. Would you still like to?"
Don sat up. "Yes. Of course. It's New Year's. We need to toast." He looked down on me. "If you still want to, that is. Or you might want to save it for something more important."
I looked into his eyes. "What could be more important than another year with the man I love?"
"You say the nicest things when you get all mushy."
"Don't tell anyone."
He chuckled and got up. A couple of minutes later, he returned with two champagne flutes and my bottle of Dom that had been chilling a few days. He sat next to me in lounge pants.
"Oh."
"What?"
"You aren't naked anymore."
"You sweet man. Haven't you had enough of my body tonight?"
"I love your body, Don. You know that."
"I do," he said, lifting my chin. He kissed me. "Happy New Year, my love."
I felt compelled to go put pajamas on too. The child in me with Christmas-like wonder protested though. I liked being naked with my partner in the glow of Christmas lights.
When I returned, now partially dressed, Don had lit a Christmas candle on the coffee table, which had been moved back into place. I sat next to him. He reached down and wrestled with the cork on the chilled bottle. With a few twists, it popped with a loud "POOPH."
After pouring us both a glass of festive liquid, he lifted his glass. I did the same.
"To another year of being in love," he said.
"Agreed."
We clinked the glasses and drank.
Leaning back, we placed our bare feet on the coffee table, making sure not to disrupt the candle. Don then crossed his leg over mine. I felt like a teenager. And it felt wonderful.
"You were magnificent tonight, my dear," Don said.
"I kind of surprised myself. I haven't come twice in a single night in ... fuck, I can't remember."
"You were a stud."
"Perhaps I'm much closer to my old self again. I still can't drive, but ... I'm more me."
"Marvelous you, Emory Pike."
We leaned into each other and continued to drink. Once the champagne was gone, we blew out the candle, turned out the tree and crawled into bed. We didn't even brush our teeth. We just went straight to bed.
—
We slept in. Don's arms were around me when I opened my eyes. A new year had begun.
Even though we were both awake, we didn't want to leave the warmth of arms, the bed and our covers.
"You were pretty great last night," he mumbled into my ear.
"Thanks. I loved our night. I felt like my old self. I wasn't even overly tired when we left. Granted, I knew I was different than the night we met two years ago, but ... I'm feeling like the old me."
"Good."
"Things are getting back to normal. I have an appointment next week with Dr. Healey. Perhaps I can start driving again."
"Hm," Don softly said.
We began putting away the holiday decorations on January 2. I was feeling useful. Although I was tired by the end, I was no longer feeling "helpless." Not that I ever was, but I knew I needed assistance in certain things. Other than driving, I felt I could do most of the things I did prior to the stroke. Some took a bit more time, but I could get them done.
Don looked sad. Putting the decorations away seemed very depressing to him.
He continued to look sad on January 3 when he took all the Christmas cards on the card table and made them into a stack.
January 4 was no better. He wasn't himself. I wondered if it was more than just the post-holiday blues. We were so happy on New Year's Eve. What had changed?
"Baby, is everything okay?"
His eyebrow raised. "Hm? I'm fine. Why?"
"You don't seem yourself."
"Oh, don't worry about me. I just get all melancholy in January with all the holiday décor stripped away."
"Okay."
I wasn't sure if I felt that was the complete story. He made comments like that last year when the final box was put away, but he never looked like he did currently. I felt more was on his mind.
We had coffee at 9 on January 5. Our group was happy, but Corey had returned to staying with Natalie. I found it astonishing that I missed that kid when he wasn't there. I never was a big "kid" person. Since my brother never had kids, I didn't have nephews or nieces. I saw enough unruly kids in my life to know that I didn't have parental instincts. Carter was sleeping in too. It was Cooper, Larry, Mitch, Don and me.
Coop and Larry talked about their New Year's Eve with Corey. They actually joined Natalie and her husband Daryl for a "family" evening. I was warmed by the fact that Cooper and his ex now got along so well. Mitch mentioned he went down to The Black Stallion later in the night so that he could kiss Carter at midnight. I thought it was sweet.
Don and I mentioned the party we attended and our bottle of champagne. We left out the wild Christmas-light sex. I could tell by their expressions that they were happy I got out and didn't just sit at home using my stroke as an excuse.
Mitch turned the conversation to New Year's resolutions. No one really had anything to offer. Cooper and Larry admitted they hoped to be more patient with Corey when his teenage hormones frustrated them.
Don leaned back. "Hmmm."
"Do you have a resolution, Don?" Mitch asked.
"I think I do," he said. Then stopped.
Everyone stared at him to finish.
"Oh. It's not something I can share. Right now, anyways."
That was odd. I guess I would have to wait until we were alone.
Back at the house, I asked him point blank: "What was your resolution?"
"I'm keeping it to myself," he said. His depressed looks now almost seemed to be replaced by nervousness.
After two years, I thought I knew Don very well. Strangely, I didn't have this particular mood figured out.
Each day that week, Don just seemed nervous. On a few occasions, I thought he wanted to talk about something, but then he withdrew. After several days, I began to formulate a hypothesis: Don was going to ask me to marry him!
Crap. I loved the man. More than anything. But I didn't want to get married. I didn't go for all that stuff. Damn it! If I was right, I was going to have to hurt his feelings. I thought he was aware of how I felt about marriage.
On Saturday, I had seen his nervousness consume him throughout the morning.
"Honey, please. Something has been on your mind all week."
"Ohhh. Damn. Here we go."
Fuck. He was going to propose. I was going to have to hurt the man I loved.
"Emory, I – I've been a bit of a mess since the new year started."
"I've noticed."
"I know you have. I'm sorry that I have concerned you."
"You can tell me anything."
Although I didn't want to hear his proposal. I tightened up.
Don reached for my hand.
"I made a resolution in my mind on Sunday. When Mitch asked — right there at Joe — I made up my mind."
Ohhh, fuck. He was going to propose.
"Emory, you know how much I love you."
Don't do it, Don. Don't ask me. Don't propose.
"I've thought about this a long time."
Fuck. Don't do it. Dooooooooon't. Don't make me hurt you.
"Emory, you are getting better every day."
"Right."
"I hope I have been a good partner in your recovery."
"The best. Don't give it a second thought. You're awesome."
Just don't ask me to marry you. My gut was twisted.
"Once you were so amazing with sex on New Year's Eve-"
"Thank you?"
"You were really close to being your old self."
"Isn't that ... good?"
"Of course. But ... it hit me that once you can drive ... and things are more normal ... that you will go back home. To your house. And – and – and I don't want you to leave."
"Wha-?"
Don's eyes watered, which really caught me off-guard. I reached for his hand.
"P-p-please don't go. I don't want you to go. I love having you here, and I want you stay forever but that isn't fair for me to ask you because you have a house of your own and you probably want to go back to your house but I like having you here and I don't want you to go because it will kill me if you go and ... I'm a terrible person. I want you to live here. Forever."
"Breathe, honey."
A tear ran down his cheek.
"I don't want you to go," he sniffed. "I love you, Emory. I love your being here."
"Okay. Well. Let's talk about this."
"Really?"
"You're not proposing?"
"Proposing!?? You will never get married. Was that what you were thinking?"
"Honestly, it was."
Don smiled and slightly chuckled through his tears, which had not stopped.
"I know you better than that," he said, wiping his nose with a napkin.
"It's funny." I sighed. "I've – I – I've thought about this for months and months. But ... now it is out in the open. We are so overdue to have this conversation."
"I've been too afraid to bring it up," he admitted.
"Me too. First Harry stayed with you following the tornado while his house was repaired ... and that sort of postponed our talking about moving in together ... and then the stroke brought me here temporarily."
"But I want it to be permanent. But ..." He began crying again. "It's not fair to ask you to give up your house."
"And you moving into my house isn't an option?"
"I suppose it is. The most important thing is that we are together each day, each night."
"Would you really move for me? Give up this house?"
"If it would mean we would be together, then ... yes. No question."
I reached for his hands and gripped them tightly.
"That tells me everything. We have some things to work out, but ... okay. I will sell my house and move in here."
Don's eyes widened. "What? You're sure ... really ... are you sure ... I mean ... that's not too much to ask?"
"Well, I'm not worried about the big step in our relationship. Like you, I want to see you every day. But I worry that you will soon become bored with me."
"Never."
"I think we should discuss finances and the money and legal matters. I'm ... giving up my house after all."
"I get that. And I know it's a big ask."
"It's funny. I've been dreading this conversation for over a year, and ... now that we are actually having it ..." I chuckled. "It isn't scary at all. It seems clear to me. I'm ready."
"But you and Gene had a life in that house."
"We did. We had a great life. That doesn't change. Walls are just walls. Our life will always be in me, not the floorboards. Not the paint and carpeting and furnishings. I will always carry Gene with me in my heart. But now he is in there with you, and we will all be happy here. In one house. Not two."
Don exhaled like he had been holding his breath for a thousand years. He breathed heavily as if regaining his composure.
"That was my resolution. To ask if we could move in together on a permanent basis."
"We had both avoided it for so long."
"I thought it was too much to ask of you. But I knew once you could drive and you were back to your old self, you would ... you would leave. And my heart was breaking."
I leaned over to hold him. He gripped me tightly.
"Even if that happened, I wasn't leaving you. I would still love you in my own house as well."
"I know. I just didn't want to bear your leaving here. Your being here is wonderful."
"It has been wonderful for me too. You've been a loving partner through it all."
"Thank you."
"No. Thank YOU for everything you've done for me. I don't think I've said that enough."
"Yes. You have."
We hugged some more.
"God, I love you," he breathed into my ear.
Over lunch we made plans to talk to Don's financial advisor next week. He wanted to make sure I felt comfortable in the future with how my house would be sold and how we would be equal owners in this house.
—
When that meeting came, Don and I opened a joint account. We worked at equal ownership of the house and that the eventual proceeds from the sale of my house would be divided between us.
With the help of his advisor, it never felt like a win-lose situation. We were both in agreement on everything moving forward.
—
"We have news," Don said.
"Do tell," Mitch replied.
Larry smiled because Don had secretly confided his fears and anxieties more than a week ago. He promised to keep it to himself until we told the rest of the group, even Cooper. I knew he was happy for us.
"I'm selling my house. I'm moving in with Don," I said.
"Whoa! That is news!!" Mitch responded.
"Well, it's about time," Cooper said. "I'm very happy for you."
Corey looked at both of us. I wasn't sure what he was trying to process. Because I was looking at him, the others turned also.
"How did you decide?"
"Decide to move in??"
"How did you decide which house? You had two houses."
I could tell Don was going to let me answer that.
"Well, either house would have worked, but I have so much over there since I've been staying with Don since the stroke. But ... it's a little nicer. My house is fine. I love it. I've been happy there, but it just makes sense to keep the nicer house."
"I hate to see you use the word nicer," Don said. "Your house is lovely. I sometimes wonder if we should be downsizing at our age."
"Fu-" I paused, not wanting to cuss in front of Corey. "Forget that! I love that your house is bigger. That makes it easier for me to find space for the stuff I wish to keep."
"We are two men of age who have accumulated many things," my partner said.
I turned back to Corey. "When Don told me he would be willing to give up his house to move into mine, then ... I knew. It wasn't just a selfish ask on his part. Both of us had been avoiding having the conversation. We didn't want to ask the other to give up his house. It was silly actually. And the longer we waited, the harder it was to talk about it."
"When Emory had the stroke, I loved being able to take care of him. I felt like a true partner. We got along so well for those months," Don added. "When he started getting better, it was great news. But then I started thinking of his moving out and returning to his home. It depressed me. I just want us to be together."
"We both do," I said.
"Okay," Corey demurely said.
"True love," Larry interjected.
"Does all this gay talk ever bother you?" Mitchell asked Cooper's son.
"Nah. Not until it gets all mushy and icky. Then it's too much."
The table laughed.
Corey did have maturity beyond his years. His adolescence was one of being surrounded by gay men. He got it. It was simply ... what it was. Natural. Had he been nauseated or angry, Cooper's life could have been turned upside down. Thankfully, Corey embraced the coffee group — and Cooper's partner.
—
By the end of January, my house had been on the market for only two weeks before it was snagged. I had already packed up most of my things. Many were at Don's place.
My doctor had approved me to drive again. Before moving out the final things to my new home — "our" home — we made love in my bed one last time. The yelling and howling matched the ferocity of our New Year's Eve romp. I was enjoying feeling my strength again. Dr. Healey told me not to expect to ever feel 100 percent back to what I once was, but I was grateful to feel as good as I did.
Cooper, Mitchell, L.B. and Larry all helped move the last things the weekend before Valentine's Day. I handed over the keys to the new owners.
Standing in the driveway, I took one last look at my house. Gene and I had made it a home for close to 20 years. I'd stayed several more after that.
I didn't know why my eyes watered. It was just a house. Just bricks. Just walls. Just windows.
But it was Gene too.
A tear ran down my cheek. "I still miss you, G., completely. Thankfully, Don understands that. And you will be with me at his place — our place — as well. I love you."
Don had done a great job of creating a family wall in the study. I didn't have much to add. One of the family pictures I retrieved after Isaiah's funeral had been framed. It was more than twenty years old, but we had a picture made. One of Gene and me at the beach in Destin was on the wall as well. Most of the wall was Don's family.
As I started the car, the dam burst. I just started bawling in the driveway. The most confounding thing was that I didn't know why. What was going through me? It was some kind of loss, but I was madly in love. I was happy. Why had this overcome me?
I took a tissue from the glove compartment and wiped my eyes. After blowing my nose, I backed out onto the street. Don would be home from his meeting soon.
Saturday night we went to the community theater. A local production of something called "Chicken and Biscuits" was enjoyable. We laughed a lot, and it touched me.
At home, we fucked. It was my first night with the keys handed over. I rode Don's cock until he burst in me. I came on his chest.
"Welcome home, darling," he said.
Sunday afternoon we donated many things to Goodwill. Many of the items were mine, but Don got rid of some things too.
That night, I fucked him. On top of him. There was something about the bed now being my bed too.
"We're like horny teenagers," I said.
"Our love is still young," my partner smiled.
On Monday, Don had a meeting. I managed to get the final boxes emptied. We treated ourselves to a dinner out. Nothing fancy. Gracie's Garden worked fine. We didn't have to prepare anything.
We knew having sex three nights in a row was too silly for men our age. We talked about the upcoming forecast. As we did so, Don's hand roamed to my body. Before we knew it, we were jerking each other off.
"I didn't even need pills," I smiled at him.
On Tuesday night, we watched a gay film with a streaming service.
"Oh, my goodness. Emerson, please go take pills. I need you inside me again."
"Seriously?"
"Please."
I hadn't come four nights in a row in several years.
On Wednesday night, I knew Pedro needed sleep. He didn't want to come out to play. Which was completely fine. We'd been ridiculous up to that time.
I got up to pee just after 2 o'clock in the morning. When I returned to bed, Don rolled into me. Even wearing pajama bottoms, his erection was evident, pressed into my hip. Two minutes later, it was in my mouth. Six minutes after that, he came inside my mouth.
"Thanks for the nice surprise," he softly said with his kiss.
"We're lunatics," I commented.
He giggled, and we went back to sleep, me in his arms.
On Thursday night, I said, "Clearly, we can wait until tomorrow night, Valentine's Day."
"I suppose. But ..." He reached into my sleepwear. Pedro ignored being felt. Pedro turned his head and wouldn't give Don the time of day. I grazed my hand across Don's crotch. The back of my fingers ran across his huge bulge.
"How DO you do that every night?"
"I'm living with the man I love. Need I say more?"
I reached in and groped his erection. Pedro's response was: Fine, I suppose we can do this.
Don and I 69'd each other. We came at the same time — or close to. I loved it when he came in my mouth.
Friday night was special. Mitchell didn't visit L.B. while he was working. Carter had a policy of not dating customers. Now that they were partners, he made exceptions. Mitchell didn't like to distract him while working though.
Cooper and Larry joined us. The five of us got one of the few larger tables at The Black Stallion. Layton, L.B.'s dreamy coworker, brought us the first round of drinks. A few minutes later, L.B. ran over to see us and gave Mitch a kiss.
"I kind of thought the place would be packed," Larry said.
"It's hit and miss," L.B. said. "Friday is going to be busy, but people who are in a relationship usually do more than just go to a bar."
"Like fuck??" I replied.
Carter smiled. "Well, yeah. But ... dinner out, that kind of thing."
Mitch and L.B. looked at each other. Their eyes were locked.
"I'm glad you came in," L.B. said.
"Me too."
And the two of them gave each other a strong kiss.
"I'm sorry I have to work," Carter told his partner.
"I understand. I've set my alarm on the phone to be awake when you come home."
Carter gave him one last kiss and headed back to the bar.
"Do you think there is more sex on this day than any other day of the year?" Larry asked.
"Possibly," Cooper said. "It's top of mind."
"Maybe in the straight world," I said. "Gay men are always willing."
"Emory!" Don chided.
"Look around this place. How many people here tonight are hoping to have sex."
"I suppose."
"Soooo ... do you two still have sex?" Larry asked.
"What, because we are way too ancient to even think of doing such a thing? Is that it?" I sarcastically asked.
"I didn't call you old."
"You didn't have to; we are," Don said.
"Hey, I'll have you know we've done it every night this week — five nights in a row."
"WHAT!?" the table called out.
"It's just the honeymoon phase of his moving in," Don said. "And ... well, truth be told, I've been a bit frisky this week. Don't begrudge us the happiness we've found."
"Aww," the table purred.
A gentleman started to walk past our table. I recognized him.
"Hi. I believe we met when I ... when I tried to start getting out again after the stroke. Lorenzo, isn't it?"
He stopped. "Yes. It is." He looked me over. "How are you?"
"I'm continuing to improve. I'm getting closer to being the old me."
"You look good. You sound good too."
"Thank you for that. Would you like to join us? Or are you meeting someone?"
"No. I'm – I'm alone."
I motioned to the remaining chair.
L.B. brought Lorenzo his drink. Lorenzo gave him a card to start a tab. Before heading back to the bar, Mitchell and L.B. snuck in another kiss.
Contrary to the usual Friday night, Valentine's Day caused the DJ to play a few additional slow songs. I saw Cooper and Larry look into each other's eyes. They clutched hands and moved to the dance floor. Don asked me to join them.
A few couples on the dance floor slowly swayed in each other's arms. Larry looked pretty sexy in his cowboy hat. Don looked sharp in his sport coat. Cooper was always gorgeous. The other men on the dance floor were pretty good looking too. It was a platform of beautiful men. It was my perfect vision of Valentine's Day.
I shifted my body in Don's arms.
"I'm happy," I whispered to him.
"I'm glad. I'm happy too. You make me happy."
No one on the dance floor cared that we entered a deep kiss. We were clearly the two oldest men in the club, but I felt in my heart that the younger set enjoyed seeing love within the confines of our age — gray hair, older skin, my physical shortcoming slowly being overcome.
"Are you okay not having anything else to drink," he mouthed into my ear.
"I'm assuming you mean for me to take some boner pills at home."
"It is Valentine's Day after all."
The song ended. We returned to Mitchell and Lorenzo.
The DJ played a two-step number.
"You all looked ... quite nice," Lorenzo said.
"Have you started seeing someone," I asked.
"No. Nothing's changed."
"My apologies. That was rude of me to ask. I'm sorry."
"No worries."
"If you'd like, I'd be happy to dance this song with you," Mitch offered.
Lorenzo stiffened. "Me? No. Oh, no. I'm – I'm not a dancer. No."
"We danced once last year, remember?" Mitch asked.
I remembered when I met Lorenzo. He said he wasn't willing to be out. That coming to the gay bar was just his secret way to be himself, when he couldn't in public.
They were his choices to make, but I felt sorry for him for making them.
Conversation around the table changed to other topics. Oddly, hamburgers were one of them. Then the Super Bowl. Then Bradley Cooper.
Later in the evening, another slow song came on. Don and I, along with Larry and Cooper danced once more. I kissed my partner as we swayed, just as Cooper and Larry did.
Upon our return to the table, I noticed Lorenzo was gone. I inquired.
"He just watched you. He couldn't take his eyes off you guys," Mitch said.
"Why us?" Cooper asked.
"Because he wants to be you."
"I don't understand," Larry said.
"It's his life. He said to tell you all good night. He found a hookup on an app and quickly left."
I didn't understand that. Lorenzo was a fine-looking man I assumed in his 40s. I felt sad for him that he had to hide.
But it wasn't my problem. I had a six-nights-in-a-row record to achieve. Then Pedro would need some vacation time.
It was Valentine's Day. I had a partner whom I deeply loved. I had a house that I shared with him. I felt good. And I could drive us home. Life was glorious.
* * * *
Email: timothylane414@gmail.com