A new adventure with some recurring and favorite themes. This effort began during the pandemic as a collaboration with a friend so it comes from two different and overlapping points of view of its story line. I'm Grady and my cohort writes the part of Hollywood icon Ryan Phillippe as we navigate the end of prep school and are reunited about a dozen years later. While some of the places depicted are real, it goes without saying that this work is pure fiction and not meant to project, construe or support any assertion about the private lives of any of the public characters portrayed within the story. Outside of the public figures, all of the characters in this story are fictional and resemblance to any one person whether dead or alive is purely coincidental. Lastly, please consider making a donation to Nifty to maintain this website. Feedback is welcome.
Matthew Phillips II
So the good news was that I could see we were heading towards DC not Baltimore, though I still wasn't quite sure of our destination. I was content talking about old times at Mayo, catching up on college, careers--rapidly covering the highlights of the past decade. It was as if we had never been apart, we quickly fell back into the easy going banter of our past, as if it had just been dormant, waiting to be reawakened.
I didn't expect where we finally ended up though; Grady swung into a parking garage--clearly the end of our trip, but all I saw was a supermarket. Until he ushered me into the most amazing place across the street: an old DC firehouse he was renovating into his home. Anyone could tell how excited he was to show me and I was excited before I even knew why!
My amazement clearly delighted him as my eyes grew wide and my jaw hit the floor as I began to look around as he pointed out each of the building's features in great detail. "Grady! This is intense, so beautiful, so cool and so you," I said, my head spinning on a swivel, "look at that exposed brickwork and the old tin ceiling -- God, whatever you want, you envision, you just make it happen. I always admired that about you." The original build was breathtaking and this is just the engine room! Still bursting with pride he ushered me upstairs to the main living area. A firefighter styled man-cave on steroids: Massive ceilings, windows to match with a breathtaking view of the city, a leather couch that would make any guy proud. I was effusive with my praise, and Grady was drinking it all in. Then, I saw the pictures--all along the window sill, a "history of Grady".
My eyes instantly spied our picture, the same one I have on a shelf at home--my senior year, his sophomore year. We just finished at the Hunt Valley Fall Tournament where we won the cup on a Matt steal and funnel to Grady for the goal. The two of us were standing so close we were touching, and grinning like kids. I sighed remembering how excited we both were and how close I felt to him at that moment. Almost as close now, we moved down the line of pictures, Grady pointing out the pics from his last years at Mayo, then the University of Maryland years. I think I surprised him when I pointed at pictures and started rattling off related headlines as we moved down the row.
"Mayo Lacrosse Phenom Declares for Maryland," The Washington Post
"Freshman Grady McBride Makes an Impact," The Diamondback
"McBride Named All American," The Baltimore Sun
"You really have been stalking me haven't you," Grady asked.
Fortunately, he said it playfully, not in a bad way...actually more in a I'm touched that you really cared kind of way. I blushed, shrugged, looking him square in the eyes, "I meant it when I said I've thought about you almost every day since we last saw each other. I've followed your college career, your firefighting career. It was my way of trying to stay connected; I know that sounds really lame, sorry."
He smiled, "No, no. It doesn't. I'm touched, seriously"
Then I spotted "his picture"--I think I had already blocked out his name, but I instantly knew he was the one that won Grady's heart and then wrenched it out so viciously. As we sat on the big couch, I could see Grady tense as he started to tell, his voice quavering a bit before firming up. I got the sense he was willing to talk about it though, so I probed to give him an opening and let him go as far as he wanted with this saga.
At first it was innocuous enough, two teammates bonding on and off the field; not much different from our initial relationship. But unlike our "boathouse moment", the tipping point took the two of them in the direction that I; and I think Grady, had hoped ours would have gone. I'll admit, I got a serious hard-on as Grady described walking in on Christian beating off with his shoe. Not that I have a shoe fetish, but, well...watching someone jerking off, or them watching me while I jerk off...now that is a massive turn on for me. I started getting a bit flushed and Grady must have noticed my shorts tent but he kept going. The kink as he described it only made it worse for me. I could feel myself leaking pre-cum as he lightly touched on "toys, gear and unusual places."
Is he into outdoor, semi-public sex as I am?? It took all my willpower to play it cool, I mean, I'm an actor after all, and focused on listening to him. And good thing too, for at that point it got painful. I sensed it was coming even before Grady spoke--the tone of his voice, the hesitation and more deliberate choice of his words, the tensing of his body--all of which were sending a warning of what was to come.
As he described the "phone call", I could feel the knife wrenching through my own gut. Who the fuck breaks up with their lover by asking them to be your fucking best man? Our eyes locked as Grady finished the story. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and beginning to trickle down my cheeks--what can I say? I'm a serious mush ball of a romantic.
It was all I could do not to reach out and grab him before he was done. My arms were coming up and finally I couldn't hold back. I moved into him, pulling him into my arms...our cheeks touching, smearing my tears on that chiseled jaw. I could feel his warm breath in my ear as he half whispered and half sobbed, "I'm kind of damaged now, not that cute sweet lacrosse boy from the boathouse anymore and that's something about me you got to be okay with, it's a part of me now."
At first I didn't say anything, I just held him against myself; all I wanted to do was hold him and help his pain go away. I gently stroked my hands up and down his corded back--firmer than a tickle, but lighter than a massage. Slowly the sobbing subsided and he took a deep breath and relaxed more in my arms. It was a bit awkward though, since I'm not exactly tall and he is. I repositioned on the couch holding him, bringing his back to my chest.
"Grady, I'm so, so sorry you had to go through that. I can only begin to imagine how painful that was for you." He started to say something, but I put my finger to his lips, "Shhhhhh, just listen for a sec, ok?" he nodded and eased his back into my chest before I went on.
"First, you'll always be my cute, sweet lacrosse boy. Nothing will ever change that. The awesomeness and wonderfulness that is Grady is here in your heart, your eyes, your soul...no matter what happens," as I reached around and touched my right index finger in the center of his chest
"Second, I can't claim to be an expert, but I have learned a couple of things, and I know this: Love is awesome...and love sucks. And what makes love so awesome is what makes it suck so much when it goes awry. It can be so wonderful and then so painful, almost at the same time. The pain you feel at his loss is only intensified by how close you were before. There is nothing you can do to undo that except move on. Don't be afraid to love again. Don't deny the world the awesome guy that I know you are."
"Third, kink, dark, wild--don't stress about that. Another thing I've learned is no one will ever corner the market on sexual deviance--you should see what half of Hollywood is up to! Everyone has their turn-ons, and you really can't control many of them. One man's gross is another man's fucking hot. As long as it's between consenting adults, I think anything is fair game"
I started to go on, but then I realized Grady had fallen asleep. I just laid back, watching his body rise and fall on my chest, his eyes were closed, looking so peaceful. I continued to caress his muscled arms. He just looked so beautiful lying there--my cute, sweet, kinky lacrosse boy. I figured I was safe whispering "Grady. I love you so much. I'm so happy we've reconnected. I hope this is just the beginning."
We must have laid like that for an hour when I felt my t-shirt getting damp--he was drooling on me; I stifled a laugh and figured oh well. After a bit, Grady woke with a start...a little confused, wiping his wet cheek. "What time is it? Why am I wet?"
"It's about one in the morning, you fell asleep," I said softly.
"And you drooled on my shirt a little."
"A little?" he whispered incredulously, "why didn't you wake me up?"
"It was no big deal, you looked so peaceful and cute. I figured you needed the sleep. Besides, it's not like it's the first time you drooled on me. Remember the ride back from Hunt Valley? When you fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled on the way home?"
Grady grinned and patted the damp spot on my chest. "Well, this is a perfect napping spot." pausing, glancing up, "Do you want to shift to my bed; it will be more comfortable for both of us."
"I would love to, as long as you really think it's okay," answered, hopefully not to eagerly, "I don't want to fuck anything up."
"I'm good; and yes, it's okay. In fact, I really want to," Grady prattled on, "and I am talking sleeping...like really sleeping; you know, eyes closed, dreams sort of sleeping"
I pouted my best pout (and I have a really good one), "Ok...lead on lacrosse boy"
Grady pushed himself off of me and offered me a hand, pulling me up from the couch. Hand in hand, he led us bedside. He turned and slid his hands up and grabbed the hem of my t-shirt, "Oh course, we can't have you sleeping in this shirt", as he pulled it up and over my head and cast it to a corner.
I shuddered as his fingers traced across my obliques and up my sides and laughed while slipping my fingers under the edge of his polo and skinned it off of his lean torso. We both paused, grinning, hands resting on each others' hips. Then I felt his hand go to the button of my shorts. I held my breath as he unfastened it, my insides fluttering as his fingers brushed against them. Then he slid my zipper down, letting my shorts slip free around my hips and drop to the floor--leaving me in nothing but my A&F boxer briefs. For the umpteenth time today, my heart was pounding through my chest.
Wordlessly, I mirrored his actions, dropping his shorts to the floor off of his lean hips--leaving him there in his white Unico boxer briefs. We locked eyes again and I grinned, "I think we'd better keep these on, so we actually get to sleep and all."
He nodded and pulled me into the bed with him before covering us with the huge down duvet. He then rolled over with his back to me and I felt a pang of disappointment--until I heard, "I want to be held, will you cuddle with me?"
Grinning broadly, I shifted behind him, tucking my knees behind his, nestling my groin up against his lean jock ass, and loosely pulling his back into my chest. I heard a satisfied sigh. Then he wiggled against me just a little, "Someone's kind of excited."
"Sorry. What can I say? I really, really like you. Don't worry, it will relax eventually..."