If It Weren't For the Two of Us Chapter 28
The characters of my stories are 100 percent fictious. I hope you enjoy reading about them and the feelings which we all experience. I post a little insight and conversation at the blog: timothylane414stories.blogspot.com. Comments are welcome
28
Mike slipped out before 8:00. I was planning to take a run. I told him I would be over that afternoon. We needed some intimacy after last week.
I ran for an hour. When I got back, Lance was still asleep. I showered. I made sure my bedroom door was shut.
I poured myself a bowl of cereal. I was quiet in the kitchen. Lance still had not stirred.
Last week was so full of some serious emotions, I tried to instill that into some of my characters in the play. I needed some of that pain in there, but a little joy too. I was still enjoying writing. I didn't get to do much creative work in college. It was all just papers and research and reports.
There was a soft rap on my door at 10:40.
"Yes?"
Lance poked his head around the door. "Can I come in?"
I didn't answer right away.
"Okay."
"What happened last night?" Lance asked, sitting at the foot of the bed.
"What was the last thing you remember?"
He was quiet. His eyes darted back and forth.
"I don't know." He gripped my foot. "I know I caused you pain. I'm sorry I spilled your secret."
Lance squinted his eyes as if trying to block out pain.
"I'm so sorry, Trent," he whispered.
"What else do you remember?"
"I'm not sure. Did something happen with Mike?"
"Yes. What do you remember?"
"Uh ... some kind of misunderstanding. I think."
"Misunderstanding." I glared at Lance. "You took his hand and made him hold your dick and then you grabbed his."
"Fuck," Lance whispered and fell onto the bed.
"Trent, I'm so ..."
"Just give me a little space today. Okay, Lance?"
He sucked in his lips like he had heard the worst news in the world. "Okay," he said, more breath than word.
Lance left me. I closed the journal and just laid on the bed. I hurt. I loved that man, but at times he could be ... infuriating. The drinking needed to stop.
I put my journal away someplace private. I needed out of the apartment.
I could hear Lance's shower through the slight opening to his bedroom. I left.
After a fast-food lunch, I rested in the park. I wasn't sure what to do, but I worked through storylines while I just relaxed. I wanted to give Mike some space before I arrived.
—
Just before 3 o'clock, I entered his house. He met me with a hug.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Okay. Numb. Fine. Horrible."
He hugged me again.
"Lance texted me an hour ago," Mike said.
I whirled toward him. "What did it say?"
He held out his phone.
"Mike, please forgive me. I would never do anything to harm our friendship. I'm sorry I was drunk. Please forgive me."
Mike's response: "I can forgive you Lance, but only you can control your drinking. We're both worried. You can't let being drunk be an excuse. It's a reason but it can't ever be an excuse. Be better."
—
Mike's cock shot onto my chest. If someone wanted, they could try to discern the difference between our two splashes of cum splattered together on my upper body — the color, the texture, the thickness. I never really thought about the difference between his and mine, but with the lack of wild passion, I simply stared at it.
It's not that the sex was bad. It was good. But only good. Not crazy good. Not fantastic. Good. We just needed some time to actually have sex. But it was quiet for us. Eerily quiet. It was physical — which we really needed to feel — but not audible.
Still, I couldn't deny how nice it was just to feel his skin next to mine.
—
We simply had soup for dinner. It was enough. I didn't seem insanely hungry anyway. I noticed he had brought a little cake home for himself. He asked if I wanted a piece, but since he had left several slices at the apartment, I said I would get one there.
The evening was pleasant enough. The cloud of last night still seemed to cast a haze hovering over our time together. I shared a bit more about my play. I thanked him for instilling the love of writing in me all those years ago. He refused to accept any credit, telling me it was all from within.
I wanted a really good night's rest since I had an early morning. Mike wished me luck on my first day. With a small kiss, I wished him "good night" and left, almost in a zombie-like trance. I needed to break out of that by the morning. I had to have a good first day.
When I got back to the apartment, Lance stood as I walked in. There was a beer can on the coffee table, but I didn't see any others. Did they make it to the trash, or did he only have one?
"Do you want to talk?" he asked softly.
"No."
I grabbed a slice of cake, dipped a scoop of ice cream to go with it and headed for my room. "I have an early morning. Good night."
Shortly thereafter, I went in to brush my teeth. His bathroom door must have been open. I could hear just enough through the wall. Lance was crying in his room. It was faint on the other side of the wall but very distinct. I put the toothbrush down. I hated that my friend was hurting. Even if it was his fault, he was hurting.
I knocked on his door although it was partly ajar. I walked in. He was lying in the dark, his body curled into a ball on the bed. I went over and sat next to him. I wrapped my arms around him but didn't say anything. He continued to sob but also said nothing.
I whispered, "Good night," again and kissed him on the cheek. He sniffed and continued to cry.
June 14
Life is crazy. There is so much great stuff and so much pain happening right now. I think when all of us sleep on it a few days, it should be better. A new job is going to demand my attention, so that is my primary focus.
I hate that Lance is hurting. He feels horrible for hurting me. It affected our friendship. Deep down, I know he would never intentionally hurt me. He's got to stop drinking. Only he can make that call.
—
I sat at the control board. Through the glass, the on-air talent had banter going. The producer was demonstrating how to use all the instruments. I had studied a lot of this in my courses. The station was by no means ultra-modern. It wasn't like a state-of-the-art setup one might find in larger cities. But it wasn't archaic either. It was fully functional and easy to learn. I caught on very quickly. By the end of the third hour, the producer felt comfortable letting me handle everything, although he stood behind me to supervise and be there if any questions came up.
The staff at the station wasn't big, but it was still a challenge to learn everyone's names and their roles. Everyone was very kind. I think the polite and respectful atmosphere will make for a good work environment. I glad I chose this.
My gaydar went off on one employee, but I wasn't even going to approach that situation on the first day — or the first week. Keeping my mouth shut seemed to be a smart move.
June 15
Good news! I love my job. They aren't handling me with kid gloves. They are jumping right in. I am involved with so many things. But I love it. Their training is making everything clear. I'm going to have to absorb a lot, but I think I'm going to be great at this. It has really lifted my spirits.
Lance got his first paycheck today. That lifted his. We aren't at the good place we used to be, but we're getting there.
—
June 19
What a great first week! I love, love, love my job. The team is wonderful. The on-air personalities have been great; they seem to like me. I've picked up on so many things. There is still a lot to learn, but I seem to be doing well. I've heard lots of praise. I definitely made the right choice.
I talked to Mom twice this week. I've kept her in the loop. She says she is happy for me. She says Dad is too, but I'll have to take her word on it. I haven't heard a thing from him.
Lance and I seem to be in a better place. Time heals all wounds.
Looking forward to the weekend with Mike.
Mike just grinned listening to me gush. He had heard it all week on the phone, but this is the first time he'd seen me in person. He couldn't be happier that my job is working out so well.
Neither of us felt like cooking. Having a pizza delivered sounded better than going out.
He had done a lot of work for me in finding some potential places to live during the week. The plan was to seriously look tomorrow. I drew up a spreadsheet: monthly rent, amenities, utilities, parking, distance to work — anything I thought would help make a decision easier.
As the sun started to set, we sat on the couch and looked at the colors in the sky out the window. My head was on his lap.
"You seem to be in a good place," Mike said to me.
"Meaning more than your lap?" I said, smiling.
He placed his hand on my chest. "Yes." His fingers went down the collar of my T-shirt to light caress my chest.
"I am good. Things that weighed heavily on me previously seem more manageable now."
"How's Lance doing?"
"Okay, I guess. I haven't seen him drunk all week. Not that he hasn't had any drinks, but ... not drunk."
"Is it affecting his work?"
"Not that I can tell. Yet. He seems to be okay in the mornings."
"Honey, I hate to use the word `alcoholic,' but if he has a few every day, it scares me."
"Me too."
I lit the candle I saw on the coffee table. All the other lights were out. We sat and watched the last bit of twilight darken.
"I can't wait to meet your parents soon," I said. "I will actually have a paycheck by then. What would you like for your birthday?"
"I haven't thought about it. I have everything I need. I don't see you springing for a swimming pool."
"Not at this point in my career, no."
"It's not a birthday thing, but ..."
"But what?" I asked.
"Never mind."
"What, Mike? Tell me."
"I'm very interested in your play. Would you share it with me soon?"
"Actually, I worked on it a lot in the evenings this week. I have so many notes scribbled in the journal, but I've actually started typing it. I'm not done, obviously, but I'm through the first act. Knowing me, I'll go back and continue to tweak it ..."
"...as every good writer does..."
"I can do that tomorrow. I could use some feedback. Just ... don't be harsh."
"I promise not to grade it," Mike said.
Mike repositioned himself to lie with me. He kissed me on the back of my neck. I really did feel good. What a change a week can make.
I rolled to face him. We kissed. Our kisses became deep. With just the flickering light, we kissed for a long time. Longer than we have kissed in weeks. As we groped on the couch, we both knew each other was rock hard, but we continued to kiss passionately, not venturing into sexual areas. Yet. Nothing arouses me more with Mike that kissing him deeply. In some ways, it is more intimate than sex itself.
I paused for a moment and started pulling his shirt over his head. My fingers ran through his chest hair as we continued to make out. His hand roamed over my crotch. I unbuttoned my jeans and zipped open my fly. We kissed more with both my hands on his beard. One of his hands moved down inside my jeans. He groped my cock through my boxers. Then his hand slipped below the waistband and grabbed my stiff flesh.
"Mmm," I hummed into his mouth.
Mike felt 150% man under me. His chest, his beard, his body. I curiously felt that rush like I did the first time I shared his bed.
He pulled my shirt off. His mouth was all over my neck, then kissing my chest.
Each of us momentarily fumbled to remove the remainder of our clothes. Back on the couch, Mike held both our erections together. For a moment he rubbed them in unison, up and down. I watched him. We both moaned at the sensation. He kept stroking our cocks as we resumed kissing.
For some reason I felt the desire to rub my cock into his chest hair. I moved my body up. He kissed my chest as I dry humped his. Mike's hands had a tight grip on my ass. He let go with his right hand to grab his hard-on. He began pumping it as I rubbed my granite pipe into his upper body. My hands were on the armrest aside his head, and my arms were stiff holding me up as I fucked his chest. We were breathing deeply and moaning. The soft pet-like hair rubbing along my cock felt different, in a wonderful way. One of his hands massaged my left butt cheek as I continued to thrust into him. I felt the motion of his masturbation. He moaned quietly. I was louder.
We resumed kissing and did so for a long time, the both of us were flush with burning lust. We loved each other's body; groping and kissing were melded. Our cocks were grinding together.
"Michael, I need you so badly. You make me so hot."
"Your cock feels so good pressed into me, J.T." he grunted back. "Don't stop."
I pushed my crotch into his even harder. It followed the manly bush above his dick up into the stripe of hair leading to his navel. I moved up further. I was grinding my stiff organ into his abdomen. Hard. He was pumping his throbbing flesh. Hard. We were moaning intensely. Hard.
Pushing my cock back through his chest hair was driving me wild. He took his hand off my ass and slipped it between my dick and my stomach. He pressed my cock down into his hair further.
"Ohhh," I squealed. "Yeah, baby."
Mike bucked his hips as he assaulted his shaft.
Our shadows were writhing on the back of the couch. The candlelight cast silhouettes of our fierce gratification. The outline of my thrusting ass was distinct to the eyes. I was fucking his chest with dynamic force.
We moaned in our gyrations for several minutes. The sound was loud and erratic. In its volume was an insistent aura of pleasure. The candlelight's warmth matched our body heat. As we writhed, it flickered. Our shadows were an erotic picture show. He let go of his erection to clutch both my cheeks again, shoving my groin into his body more firmly. My moans became yells. It was primal.
"Yeah Trent. Do it. Come on me."
"Oh Michael!! Yeah!"
Mike felt the moisture of my orgasm burst through the hair on his chest and hit his skin.
"Yeah, baby. Keep coming."
I did. My cum was all over his chest.
"Ohhhhhhh! Don't stop baby. Keep fucking my chest!"
He screamed, and I felt his cum hit my ass. The second shot landed directly in my ass crack. I shouted out in delight. His hips bucked as his fist pounded his erupting cock. His neck arched as he groaned through the remainder of his climax.
Both of us spent, it took us a long moment for our gasping and panting to resume to normal breathing. It was an intense orgasm for both of us.
"This has been a really good week," I softly said, sliding my cock all over his slick chest. I stared at my long member as I guided it into the liquid. I moved my body lower so that I could kiss him so more. I smeared my cum further down his body. We were a mess, a love-soaked mess. The head of his penis poked my ass.
We stopped kissing and just rested. His arms were around me tight.
—
We checked several apartments. Some looked better online than they did in real life. Several options seemed doable. I had three in the price range I thought I could do. Nothing fancy, that's for sure, but it was, after all, my first apartment.
I asked him his opinion. He felt all were suitable choices. He liked the size of the bedroom on one of them but felt I had more workable office space on another. All of them had a pool, not that the amenity had that much of an impact. Monthly rent was going to be about a third of my take home, which was a little steep, but I didn't have much choice in that matter.
I committed to The Branches. Aptly titled, the complex had a lot of trees, and I liked that. They said if I signed today, I could move in next weekend getting four days for free. Not a huge thing, but helpful not to have to move in the middle of the week.
I signed.
June 20
Well, one more decision made. I move in a week. I'll have to figure out how to get stuff from the house. I might have to face Dad in doing so. I don't know what he thinks of me now. I'm not sure if I am strong enough to do it easily, but I am bound and determined to face it like a man.
That evening, Mike read the first act of my play. I was a nervous wreck. I enjoyed writing it, but what if it didn't come off well. I completely respected his opinion. I would be open to pointers, but I just didn't want him to hate it.
I had to be in a different room. Otherwise, I would have hovered over him and stared at him like a bird of prey. I decided to distract myself by making a list of all the things I would need from the house.
Mike entered the study after reading for 45 minutes. I was so full of anxiety; I thought my heart would pound its way through my chest and land at his feet. He wrapped his arms around me.
"It's incredible," he said softly into my ear.
"Really? You're not just saying that because I let you fuck me?"
He laughed. "It's really good, babe. Really, really good. You've made these characters come alive. They're relatable, they are likeable, ... you care what happens to them. The conflict is deep. It's just really well done."
"Well, it's not done. I still have to finish the second act, but I know where I want to take it. But surely there is something you didn't like."
"There were two places — and I'll show you where — that I wasn't completely clear on what was happening. Briefly. I can explain that. But you are on the right track."
The two of us sat at the table. He poured a glass of wine and we scrolled through many parts of the play. When he would pause to praise a certain scene or a particular line from one of the characters, I felt incredibly proud. He wasn't my teacher, he was my partner, or at least I thought of him that way. I loved the two of us sharing the details. It was a new connection for us.
As we crawled into bed later that night, I could not believe the level of happiness that overtook me. I had not been on that much of a rush in a long time. I felt I deserved it.
I gave Mike a forceful kiss. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being there for me."
"It's where I want to be." He kissed me back, deeply.
Within minutes, we were in a spooning position. My arm was around his chest, with the fingers on my hand running their way through his chest hair. My face was nuzzled into his neck, and I enjoyed the subtle scent that was Mike.
My dick had become hard again feeling his body pressed back into mine. My hard rod maneuvered to rest inside his ass cheeks. Just before he drifted off, his hand reached back to grip his fingers around my erection. He gave a slight hum as he did so. He squeezed it tight, comfortably, gently. When his grip loosened, I knew he had drifted off to sleep. His unconscious body pulled his arm back and rested it against mine.
I smiled to myself. Before this year, I had no idea love like this existed. I had never seen it. I thought my parents were an example of love. I thought sex was a different kind of love. Neither were correct. THIS was love.
* * * *
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Blog: timothylane414stories.blogspot.com
Email: timothylane414@gmail.com