If It Weren't For the Two of Us Chapter 34
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34
"I got my first paycheck last week," I told Lance on my lunch break. I checked in on him every day. It was Monday and I wanted to give him something social to look forward to. "How about I treat us to dinner?"
"I would totally love that. Tonight? No, damn. Sorry. I committed to Evan. Tomorrow?"
"I suppose. I usually do something with Mike midweek. But I can make it Wednesday. We just spent the whole weekend together."
"Good. I made a commitment to a friend at the meetings that I would show up on Wednesdays, so this all works out."
"I'll swing by at 6 tomorrow. Don't tell Mike you were my first choice. We went through college together. This whole thing needs to be celebrated by college bros."
I got home and figured I would just do soup or something. I had enough in the cabinets and fridge that I could muster up something. Then I'd treat both the boys out the next two nights.
Putting my dish in the sink, I was content to just chill for the evening. I buried myself into the play.
—
I arrived at Lance's right at 6:01. I gave him a simple hug, being careful of his wrist.
"How does it feel?" I asked.
"Better, I suppose," he said, looking at it. "It doesn't so much hurt as make me `aware of it.' I'll just feel it from time to time. I still have at least three weeks to go."
"You look great. I can tell you've lost some weight. I'm proud of you buddy."
Lance smiled almost to where I thought he might blush.
"So, Señor Miguel's? Thai Me Down? Jake's? Let's just take a break from pizza."
Lance looked at the ceiling. Then he looked down to meet my eyes with his decision. "How about Chinese? Evan found a place called Great Wall. We think it's really good."
"Fantastic. I'm in."
He was right. The food was great. I hadn't done Chinese in a while. It was great to visit with Lance like this. The whole drinking thing had been taken out of the equation. It was just Lance, trying to be his best. We talked and laughed about getting paychecks and how it felt to have started careers. I asked if he was saving anything from each check; he asked how much I was committing to apartment needs. We felt like we were back in college, talking about the day-to-day stuff.
When we got back to the apartment, I didn't realize Lance had stepped out to look for a package. I closed the door fairly hard, and it hit his wrist. He screamed out.
"Shit!! Lance I'm so sorry. Oh, buddy. I didn't know you were there. I am so sorry."
He came in and sat on a chair. His face was grimaced in pain. I felt terrible. How could I have made that mistake? I knew Lance; I could tell he was hurting.
"I'm gonna go lay down," he said in a groan.
Lance walked into the bedroom. He flopped on the bed. I felt horrible. Fuck!
"I'm so sorry. Can I get you anything? What can I do? Buddy, I'm soooooo sorry."
"Shut up. Just lay here with me."
"Do you have any pain killers left?"
"Two. I didn't take all of them last week. But I'm not sure I need that. Yet. We'll see how it feels later on."
I laid down next to him, opposite his hurt hand. I rolled over to place my arm around him. I put my head on his chest.
"I can't believe I did that," I said softly.
"You didn't mean to, Trent. It was an accident."
"What if I damaged something further?"
"I doubt it. The cast is pretty protective. I don't think it was that hard. It was just a sudden jar to it."
I held him a little closer. His arm patted my shoulder.
"Should I just head home?"
"Of course not. I'm happy to see you, even if you are attacking me."
"Auuugh!" I felt horrible.
I rolled off him, but his arm was still behind my neck.
"We haven't talked about my weekend with Mike. His parents were awesome."
"How so?"
"Much like your father, they are so supportive. They loved me. Much more than my parents."
"Hey! Your parents love you. You're the trophy child," Lance chided.
"Until you say you are gay."
"Your dad is better though, right?"
"I'm hoping so. I still haven't seen him, since ..."
I rolled back to put my head on his chest again. We held each other.
"How's the wrist?"
"Getting better. A little."
I groaned and held him tighter. We didn't say anything. We just held each other.
"I miss you," I said.
"I'm not going anywhere," Lance said.
"Yeah. But we're both working. We're getting busier. We don't get to see each other as much."
He squeezed me tighter this time.
"Is our friendship weird?" Lance asked softly, just above my ear.
"You mean friends with benefits without benefits?"
We both laughed hard. For a long time. My belly could feel my laughter. We both turned on our sides and faced each other. We smiled and looked into each other's eyes. We both leaned forward and pressed our lips together. We put our foreheads together. Lance and I were very affectionate. But ... we could be tempted. I put my hand on his chest and rolled him back. I wanted to make sure neither of us felt tempted to do anything further.
"I think our friendship is awesome." I stared straight up at the ceiling. "Even though we can't do anything sex-wise, I feel so close to you. I've never felt so comfortable with anyone like I do with you."
"What about Mike?"
"Well, yeah. But that's different. We're intimate; we bear our souls to each other. But you and I still have our own unique bond. I know I'm probably too open with my friends, I love too easily. But I have no problem at all telling you how much I love you. We're like twins. I can share anything with you. So, is that weird? I don't know. But it's special, and I'm thankful to have it."
He grabbed my hand. "Me too."
"Want to tell me about the meeting?"
Lance didn't answer. I listened to his breathing.
"I am impressed by the people there," he started. "They don't judge. They just listen. Which is good. My share was pretty rough. I ... broke down at one point."
"Oh, buddy," I said squeezing his hand.
"It was okay. Everyone is okay with how you present. I said the words `I'm gay' for the first time out loud."
I still was staring at the ceiling. "Well, you're probably bisexual."
Lance broke into hysterical laughter.
"What??" I insisted.
"I told the group you would totally say that. And you did!"
I turned to look at him. "You mentioned me?"
"Not by name, but ... yeah ... you're in my life, so ... yeah."
"Did you say anything about Oliver?"
Lance suddenly sat up. "Why do you say that? My father said something about Oliver the other day. What do you know?"
"Oh." I paused. "I'm not sure what to say. Your father shared with me in the hospital that you might have been influenced by your brother."
"Really? He said that?"
"Yeah. Talk about it with him. I don't want get anything wrong."
"Hmm." Lance reflected a moment. He turned back to me. "I've made a friend. I think you remember Ophelia."
"Yeah, from that first meeting. Nice, huh?"
"She is. I can be pretty open with her."
"I think the meetings are doing you good."
"I can confirm they are totally doing me good."
"Do you ... ever ... feel like a drink now?" I cautiously asked.
"Actually, no. Just having it out of the apartment eliminates that temptation. I don't really want a drink, but from time to time, my body just feels ... numb ... to where I think it is thinking I should be getting up to get a beer. I'm not craving it. It just feels like ... autopilot ... like I should be getting one. But all I have to do is think of my father looking at me in the hospital. That snaps me back. I immediately know I never want another drink again."
"Man."
"Putting the first AA chip on the fridge is a constant reminder too."
"I am so proud of you," I told Lance.
"I appreciate that. Knowing you and Dad are proud really does mean something. A lot. I want you two to be proud of me. I can't believe how badly I slipped. Heaven knows I still have about 12 pounds to lose."
"Well. You're doing great."
"Thanks. And if it makes you feel better, my wrist is down to a dull numbness. I'm sure I'll be fine."
I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.
We got up. Evan walked in, and I visited with him briefly. I moved toward the door to head back to my apartment.
"Call me after your meeting, okay?" I told him.
When I got home, Mike texted me a photo of him wearing the T-shirt I gave him for his birthday — and nothing else. His dick was sticking up toward his navel in front of the shirt. In his other hand was the tiny book in which I described every bit of his body and what I loved about each part.
"Love it. But I thought you warned me to not send such pictures."
"Correct. Delete it right now." He added a wink emoji.
"Later. I think I'll stare at it a while. It might become helpful in about a half hour." I texted the wink bank.
We called each other and talked for a bit. I told him about my flub with Lance's wrist.
Later that night I made good on my threat. I stared at Mike's racy picture when I slipped into bed. Mike's cock was an ideal size in my opinion. Beautiful to look at and manageable for fucking and sucking. It never failed to make me hard just by looking at it. Just by thinking about it.
Now that I'm in a committed — sexually active! — relationship, I don't masturbate as much. But since I have my own apartment, it's nice to be as audible as I want to be. In comparison to when the two of us are engaged in hot passion, there are no words when I'm stroking my own rod. Just moans. I love expressing my pleasure just to myself. Nothing screaming loud, but just a level of masculine lust that lets me declare the sexual stimulation beating within my crotch.
I moaned louder as I was getting close to climax. I picked up the phone and stared at Mike's cock some more. That was doing it. I was there. I only said three words during the whole experience: "I'm coming, Mike."
After my cum was splashed on my torso, I took a photo and texted it back to him.
—
I spent the rest of the week wrapping up my play. Dinner with Mike on Wednesday was great. We hadn't gone out for burgers in a long time. After that, I felt like I needed to reign in my celebratory spending. We had a good night of sex. It wasn't as hot as some of our nights, such as at the lake house, but good sex with someone you love is always worth it. I told him I looked forward to playing with Sascha over the weekend.
I checked in on Lance every day.
He said his second share Wednesday went fine.
After a few weeks, I was starting to get closer to some people at work. After Mike had dropped off the keys a couple weeks ago, Scott, one of my coworkers, seemed to take an interest in me. He recently let me know he was gay as well. Mike has been wanting to widen his circle of friends again. Maybe this could be an opportunity. I intended to discuss it this weekend.
On Saturday morning, I felt I needed to catch up on some things I told myself I would do when college was winding down.
I got Zach's number from Lance. I reached out to him to offer my phone number and a reminder that if he had more volunteer cases and needed help to consider me. He appreciated the call, and we spent a few minutes catching up. I talked about the play some and his influence on one of the characters. Zach was very nice. I felt slightly saddened we hadn't become closer in college.
Next, I called Tariq.
"Hello, my brother. How is your summer going?" I asked.
"Good. I guess. I'm trying to make the most of it. It's nice to hear your voice."
"Same here. You've actually been on my mind for a few reasons. This is going to sound odd. I'm wrapping up my entry into The Showcase ..."
"Fantastic!"
"But I might need your help."
"Mine? How so?"
"I've heard you rap. I've actually written a couple songs for the show. I hadn't intended for it to be a musical or anything, but I think I can make them fit. So anyway, I was wondering if you've ever written any rap lyrics?"
Tariq was intrigued. "Trying to remake Hamilton?"
I laughed. One of the characters in the play was inspired by Tariq. I delicately explained that he helped come up with the title: The Brutal Reality. The premise of the play was that the brutal reality is that you don't get to choose your family. The main characters were based on aspects of my life, Zach's and Tariq's. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or worried. But he was interested in writing a rap for me. Since I kind of brought it up, I asked if things were still okay between him and Amanda.
"It's okay. We still hope to pick back up at school. I've tried to bring her up. Mom seems interested in us; Dad still doesn't want to listen. I hate being in a racist family."
"I keep being told to give my father time to accept who I am. I suppose I can suggest you do the same."
"Things not good at home?"
"Well, they weren't but are slowly getting better now. I packed up and left when we had an argument. I came out to him. It did not go well."
"I'm sorry, Trent. That sucks. I hope it keeps improving. I am at least going to go see Amanda next weekend. Her family is awesome. Say, do you ever talk to Lance?"
"Every day. We had dinner earlier this week."
"How's his drinking. Do you know?"
"Umm. Yeah. Out of respect for his privacy, I'm not sure how much I should say. But you were a good friend. It got bad, Tariq. It started affecting a lot of things in his life. Earlier this month he had a car wreck."
"Oh my gosh! How bad?"
"The car had to be totaled, but he came out with minor injuries. Broken wrist and some bruises."
"Thank God it wasn't worse."
"Totally. The good news is he has completely quit drinking. It has been three weeks now, and he is doing great. Losing weight, feeling better — the old Lance is back."
"Well, I'm pleased to hear that."
"Yeah. Hey, I'll let you go, but I hope you have a great weekend with Amanda. Give her my best."
"Will do," Tariq said. "And Trent. I appreciate the call. Call anytime."
—
I met Mike at his place for lunch. I picked up chicken strips for us to share. He made some boxed mac-and-cheese for a side.
Before we sat down, I just had to play with Sascha a bit. He was such a good dog.
"What time did Ethan bring him over yesterday?"
"Just after lunch. He had a 5 o'clock flight. International, so he wanted to get to the airport early."
"I've only flown one time," I said.
"Really?"
"Yeah. It was for a family wedding in Georgia. We flew into Atlanta."
"So. You've never flown anywhere for your personal enjoyment?"
"Nope. My family doesn't have a lot of money, so most our vacations were driving trips."
"Where do you want to go, babe? Let's start thinking about a trip."
"To be honest, I've always wanted to go to the Grand Canyon. Ever since I heard "The Grand Canyon Suite" when I was studying music, I've always been intrigued."
"Sounds lovely. I'd love to take you. We could do Bryce Canyon as well. It's my favorite."
"I'm sad we can't go anywhere this summer. I have no vacation time earned."
"I know. It sucks."
"But you should still go somewhere," I told him.
"I suppose. It wouldn't be as fun if you couldn't join me. But I should attempt to see something. Ethan invited me to go to Spain with him."
"What!? Hello??"
"Ha. Relax. It would have been just as friends. He would have enjoyed some company during his free week. But one doesn't just buy a plane ticket to Spain in under 10 days from the flight."
"Do I sound bad if I say I'm glad you didn't?"
"Don't you trust me?"
I kissed him.
"Absolutely. 100%. I'm not necessarily sure about him. He's totally gorgeous. Perfect looks. Perfect dog. I could see him stirring up old feelings. He's probably got a huge cock like Lance too."
"No. It's actually not long at all."
"Oh, so the man does have a flaw," I quipped.
"I wouldn't call the body you are born with a flaw."
I reflected on that. I felt ashamed for saying it. "You're right. I don't know why I said that. Now I do sound bad." My rash quip bothered me for most of the night. I was a prick to ever say such words. It's weird how much emphasis is placed on size.
"I can say his penis worked 100% of the time and got the job done. I enjoyed his dick. But ... Ethan isn't on my radar — at least in that way. He'll be a friend to a certain degree for a long time. Sadly, he isn't with anyone right now."
"Okay. What is it with you two? Two gorgeous men that just manage to stay unattached?"
"Breakups can be hard. I know he went out with a few guys. I guess each of those only lasted a few weeks."
I wondered what it was about Ethan people didn't like. He seemed so ideal.
"Ethan is still worried he came off badly when he met you," Mike said.
"Eh."
We played with Sascha a lot during the day. I could tell Mike loved him. It was his and Ethan's dog. Ethan got him in the split. Sascha still seemed comfortable in Mike's house as if there was a familiarity to it. He seemed to like me too. He was well trained and friendly. He hardly barked at all.
—
Mike and I were pretty regular about sex twice a week. I was expecting us to make love tonight but wasn't sure with Sascha in the room if he would.
Just before we brushed our teeth, he came up to me from behind after I pulled off my shirt.
"I haven't had you inside me since the lake house. I think I'd be up for it if you are," he whispered into my ear.
I guess that answered my question.
A few minutes later, we crawled into bed.
"Should we put Sascha outside the room ... during ..." I posed.
"Actually, no. He grew up with Ethan and me having sex in the room. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but in time, it seemed like he would wait to see if we were going to make love. If we weren't and just went to bed, he would hop up. But I swear he would wait first."
"Really?" I said, not fully believing it.
We turned out the lights but lit a candle. Vanilla.
Pulling a towel and lube out of the drawer, I prepared the bed. Mike positioned himself laying on his chest. I lubed him up really well. This wasn't Mike's favorite position. We only did it occasionally. I always wanted to make sure it was comfortable for him. I continued to probe him with slick fingers, first one then two. He seemed to relax. I inserted a third.
"Ow," he said.
"Sorry, hon'."
"No. No. Do it again."
Gently I slid three fingers into his hole. His body tensed, then I felt it relax. He let out a breath, and I massaged his passage with my fingers, stretching it to be ready.
"Yeah, babe," he cooed. "I'm ready for your hard dick. I want you to fuck me."
Carefully, I positioned my stiff equipment at his entrance. I laid on top of him with my full weight pressing down on his back. I moved my hips to poke the head of my penis inside him. I paused. I pushed in another inch.
"Yeahhh," he softly said.
I was glad he was ready. Slowly, I pushed my cock all the way in.
"Fuck yeah," he said louder.
I locked my arms under his. We squeezed each other as I started thrusting my waist, sliding my hardened male flesh in and out. In and out. In and out.
"Fuck me, J.T." he whispered as my head lay next to his.
"I feel so good in you, Michael."
We grunted and groaned for several minutes. The stimulation of my dick inside the man I loved was intense. It would have been easy to come quickly if I had wanted to. Mike made things last by asking to change positions. He rolled me to my back. Straddling my crotch, his body lowered. I held my prick straight up so that it could easily find the inner space it was seeking. I entered Mike again, and we mutually moaned.
As Mike rode my pole, I gazed at him in the candlelight. I found him more beautiful every day. His hairy chest, his toned body, his sexy beard — all that masculinity gyrated in front of me, above me, for me. He pulled on his cock, and I asked him to stop. I told him I wanted to watch it move as we fucked. His cock wasn't fully hard, but it was long and bounced playfully as he moved up and down my shaft. Eventually, I reached up to grab it. It became erect again in my hand. Once I started pulling and stroking, he arched his back. His neck strained as he stared at the ceiling, still moaning as he slid up and down my erection. I worked his dick hard as he slammed his ass down on my bush and cock. I pulled it with a sensual rhythm he said was perfect. His groans sounded almost borderline painful, but I knew he was in ecstasy by his facial expression. Mike loved me being inside him tonight. We made it work.
"Pull my cock harder, Trent!" he screamed. "Harder!"
I yanked his rod, making him scream. In a howling release, cum sprayed on my neck and chest. The next shot hit my chin. I kept stroking as he fired every shot in his load. I kept stroking. His dick had nothing left to offer, but Mike kept groaning. Eventually I ceased my manual efforts.
I had not come yet. I was close. I wanted to try something different.
"Are you okay if I stay in you?"
"Yeah, babe. It still feels fine."
"Let's get on our knees."
Like a well-orchestrated tango, we slowly repositioned, somehow without me taking my cock from inside him. Like a naked, sensual move of Twister, I found myself behind him, both of us on our hands and knees. I grabbed his shoulders and resumed thrusting my iron beam inside his willing chamber.
"That's it, J.T. Fuck me. Fuck me all you want. I want to feel you come inside me."
"I'm close," I uttered as I crashed my crotch into his ass. I wasn't there, but I knew I would be within a minute or two. I groaned and grunted as I fucked this gorgeous man.
"Keep fucking me baby. It's so hot. I love you inside me. Keep fucking me!"
I thrust harder. I tried to push my cock in drilling him even deeper. This made him call out in a pleasured scream.
"Mike! Oh yeah, baby. Oh honey, I'm coming. I'm coming. I'm coming." My first stream shot into him. "I'M COMING!"
My arms left his shoulders and reached around his torso; my body draped over his. I kept shoving my dick into him, pushing into him as if to add another inch to my cock inside him.
My load had fired. I stayed wrapped around him as I caught my breath. His cum was still on my chest and now partly on his back. My breathing gradually decelerated, and I regained my strength.
We worked the towel from underneath us. I wiped his back and my chest. I ran to the bathroom to clean off my dick and quickly returned. After we leaned in together to give a kiss, I said, "That was really hot tonight" directly into his lips and mouth.
"It was fucking amazing," he whispered back. "I love you."
He leaned over to blow out the candle. A wisp of vanilla smoke glowed momentarily. We moved together and wrapped ourselves into each other's arms.
"Good night, hon'" I said.
Sascha jumped up on the bed and laid between our legs.
* * * *
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