See the Good in All Things

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% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature.

% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.

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`See The Good In All Things' 11

WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

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It took awhile for Dean and Chad to get on the road, heading out in the truck, which had been parked like a sardine in a can, for over an hour.

Relatively early for El's party, "did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

'Guess he didn't hear,' Dean spells it out, "my stomach. It growled?"

"Does that mean you're needing something to fill it?" Chad smiles. Other than that, in order to sort out the facts, "what time does the party start?"

Dean rationalizes, "most don't get home from work until 6 or 7. By the time they shower and ready themselves, they don't get to the party until 8 or 9."

Chad, checking the time on his wrist, it was around 5, "oh then, that gives us plenty of time to make a stop."

It seems like everyone else had the same idea, Dean saying, "oh gawd, would you look at the line at Burger Heaven?"

Chad then offers, "if you can hold off, we can try out that new cafe," it said 'Grand Opening'?"

Fine with Dean, "sure, and get something substantial a little later?"

Hoping to try out one of the 88 different variations on a hamburger the restaurant offered, Dean was thinking of the limitless ways a man can pleasure a man!

"Sounds like a plan," Chad is agreeable.

Pulling into the left lane, making a left turn, heading into the lot, a police car, lights flashing, pulls in behind them.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Chad says, "I think you crossed over a double line. You were supposed to go to the light and make the jug handle."

"Oh."

Pulling into a slot, the police vehicle parks Dean in, keeping him from backing out. The lone officer gets out of his vehicle and walks to Dean's side of the car.

When the window drops, the cop leans on the ledge, "license and registration?"

Too late he doesn't see Dean's passenger, who mocks, "oh, its you, Officer Stack?"

Smiling, Chad waits for the face recognition to kick in.

Stack really didn't know what to say. Surprised to say the least. When Chad was pulled over about a week ago, Officer Stack put his ticket book away, after pulling it out, pen ready in hand to write.

Dean, who was kind of mesmerized by the officer's last shirt button, keeping the fabric from busting off over the stomach, "you two know each other, I take it?"

The melting authority of the cop, changing into a grin, gave Dean indication, which brings it out in Chad, "oh yeah, do we ever!"

He hadn't any knowledge of the police officer still leaning on his window ledge, but with scattered info on Chad, Dean isn't reluctant to be forthcoming, "have some good sex, eh?"

It's not something that Officer Stack brought up as conversation, being he was still in the closet. "You were to keep that confidential, Barrett?" cues Chad in on the consequences, running a bladed finger under the chin.

Remembering he wasn't to speak a word of meeting up with the cop in a seedy motel, Chad covers with a simple, "I didn't say anything, I swear." He then taps Dean on the arm, "it was a lucky guess."

Would've been fun, letting the two play it out, but Dean wasn't about to let Chad take the fall, not when he was getting kinda 'soft', like in 'soft & cuddly', on him, "of course. Y'see, it's like a detective, listening intently and then putting two and two together." Then, poking fun, Dean shifts the blame, "I mean, if I were to point the finger, it would be on you, officer?"

"Me?" Like reading him his rights, Stack says, "I oughta run you in for a crack like that," he meant reading Dean his rights, cuffing him, throwing him in the slammer. Though, just because of his handsome mug, the officer would want himself on the inside as well!

Daring dude he can be, Dean slips one finger in between the stretched out fabric of the officer's uniform and feeling a fingerful of hair, "I'd much rather throw your ass over the hood of my truck and run you in!"

"Oh shit," Chad rolls his eyes and like he had said it, puts a hand over his mouth. Really, instead of feeling like Dean had gone too far, he was silently laughing, thinking if he only knew what went on between himself and 'Rick'.

Wiping a hand down his belly, Stack disconnects Dean's finger from manhandling him, "c'mon," he jacks the door handle, "out of the car."

Chad jumps out first and scooting along the hood of truck protests, "trust me, Rick. He didn't mean anything by that."

Earning the right to be daring, something of Dean's character, he steps out of the car and with a kinky smile says, "really, officer? I meant every word of it."

Having only met up with the cop one time, Chad wasn't sure he was that easy going with every gay guy he met, "no he didn't," he refutes.

With a grumpy look on his face, Stack says, "I think he meant every word of it."

Dean wasn't worried, even if his ass was hauled off to jail. In all walks of life, there was always a dude who wanted to suck his cock, means to scoot around the system. He was confident, as with his HS science teacher, about getting an A at the end of the semester for virually doing nothing, well ditto, Dean knew nothing as much as a smudge would go down on his record.

Rebound on the return of his comment, expecting the worst, both Chad and Dean are surprised by Officer Stack saying, "hey, you think the donuts are any good?"

Expecting something different, Chad says, "donuts?"

Rick nods towards the 'Grand Opening' sign, "new cafe. They must have donuts or danish?"

It's not like Chad hasn't seen Officer Stack in that position before, hands on hips, feet spread, emoting a vision of authority. Only, the last time he assumed the position, Chad was lying flat on his back, Rick standing on the bed, minus the uniform, his 9-inch rod ready to start drilling!

Dean wasn't too particular of styles of men. Hairy was cool, not too fat, muscle great, thriving mostly on a tight ass.

"Maybe after we have some coffee and donuts, we all can head over to El's!"

"L?" Rick questions.

However, stressed at their first meet up, Chad sides with the cop, "you don't want to go there, not if you don't want the whole world knowing you're gay, Rick?"

Quickly Rick says, "Oh no, no, no, I'll pass. Trust me, I don't want that getting back to the guys at the precinct!"

"Donuts, then?" Dean pushes ahead of the other two, leaving them hanging back.

Really, Dean was feeling the sensation, pulses in his pants, thinking about having that big bear pushed up against the side of his truck. Second thought, more than his hard shaft pressed up against Officer Stack's fat ass, was trying not to say anything of the policeman's sexuality, if he should ever wind up in the slammer!

Left alone, Rick says to Chad, "you've gotta watch what you say?"

"I know, but I wouldn't have said anything, if I knew Dean would catch on. He's a smart guy, you know?"

Rubbing his shirted belly, Rick says, "he sure has an inquisitive finger!"

From being with Rick, Chad can relate, "I know how you like that furry bod licked."

"And if we stay out here talking, you're going to get me to pop another boner!"

Most of the cafe crowd had come and gone. As always, when in uniform, Rick kept an eye on things, the environment around, when he spots a dude coming from behind the counter and busy himself with wiping down tables.

He caught himself, from speaking out loud, leaning in to Chad's ear, Rick saying, "now there's a piece of ass I'd like to conquer!"

Catching Rick's snicker in his ear, Chad says, "I know what you mean."

Unlike Rick wanting to use his ramming tool, Chad would much rather be parting ass and digging in with his tongue. Still, each had their erotic opinion which churned the wheels of their sex drive.

Dean dug up a conversation with the counter dude, while Chad and Rick studied the board overhead. Now and then Rick would break away from the fritatta section to peruse the tables and washer.

Leaning in towards Dean, Chad says, "uh, could you hurry it up?"

"Keep your shirt on," Dean replies, though he couldn't wait to get it off Chad's back!

"Hm, now there's a thought," Rick could almost feel the buttons of his uniform come undone. 'Man, what a rush, having Dean's fingers at work...'

"Whsssst, Rick," Dean had to call the officer to attention, still stalking the table washer, "do you know what you want? From the menu, I mean?"

Chad says, "I think we both know what Rick wants!"

Dean, having recognized the cafe worker, says, "he used to work for Howelland Hardware. I saw him a couple of times at Steven's parties."

Thinking through his dick and not his mind, Chad says, "I'd sure like a taste of him!"

Dean confronts Chad with, "not gonna happen, if you keep on skipping out of Steven's parties, with hot guys!"

Having a flashback, Dean knew the feeling Chad had. He had experienced the same over and over with his brother. Sean was the same way, saying he'd like to do this, do that, something out of character, like fucking a hot dude at school, at the gas station, one of the salesman at the hardware store, when all along he was too shy to even approach the guy. It made Dean smile, thinking he had to go behind his brother's back and set him up. Even not a particular man Sean put the finger on, Dean would set up a meeting at the same seeedy motel he's frequented since sixteen years of age, sneaking in under an alias. He knew, the owner of the motel knew, he wasn't of college age, but the ID Dean found got him in, long as he paid the discounted fee. Of Sean, he brought his brother in on his web of deceit, telling 'Sam', the motel owner, his bro was a frat brother, wanting his first kick. Sam always used the same, dull joke, wanting to get in on the action, 'mind if I come along to watch?', Dean laughing even though it had become mundane. Anyhoo, it was Dean who gave his brother his first big break, a hot stud on his knees sucking his brother off, or Sean lying naked on the bed, some dude with tongue buried in his ass crack. Even though prodded along, Sean never took the opportunity to plow ass, given the first stages of Dean's schooling. Later Sean would ask why Dean knew so much about entering the motel room, the kissing part, clothes tampering, strip down, where hands ran over a man's bod, how to provoke the trick into sliding down a treasure trail, licking a hard shaft, tongue winding around the balls, then the climax, which Dean was amazed how much a guy could swallow, simply because he wanted to!

All those good memories would serve to educate Dean, which is why he could relate to Chad wanting to be more than he dare to become.

Still, Chad was denying the fact, "skip out of Steven's parties? Like, that was my first night on the job and I wouldn't say I was partying?" He slaps Dean on the arm, "and if anyone said I was skipping out, it was because of you!"

Okay, maybe Dean had matters a little confused. Guys who were at Steven's parties were there by invitation and arms weren't twisted behind their backs to get them to walk in through the back gate. At Sam's seedy motel, there were a few dudes he met there in the parking lot, who needed coaxing to follow through with renting a room, keying the door, take their outer shell of clothing off and like taken from a text book, walked through the process of kissing, to sucking, to getting fucked, if it went that far. Married guys would try to get out of walking from the parking lot to a motel room. Dean would always have the right words, when his trick tried a last minute ditch, saying they didn't know why they were there. It could get complicated, but Dean never lost his under-the-table wage.

"Okay, maybe I had things mixed up."

On a quest to go from security to private investigator, Chad had an idea Dean was no dumb bunny, "mixed up or how you want things to go?"

Dean had definitely overlooked something, "oh really? Like, how would that go?"

"I bet you're thinking it was 'you' who lured 'me' away from Steven's place?"

"Of course. How else could it be?" Dean thought it was like a couple of guys he met at the motel, trying to weasel their way out of going up to a room, using psychology, when all along fear and anxiety played a part.

Delivering a smile, Chad says, "I had you wrapped around my little pinky," he holds up the small finger, "from the moment I saw you looking at the bumper of your truck."

Honestly, it was the first time someone put it over on Dean. Looking for some good to come out of all this, perhaps using it as a tool, not to have anyone else in the future tense do the same, "you wanna explain that?"

Of all his surroundings, the counter dude, table washer, the officer, and a group of guys around a circular table, Chad's main focus was on Dean, "I'm hoping I picked a good reason why I'm being stolen away?" Then patting Dean on the shoulder, "if we last the night, I'll explain it to you."

Maybe Rick was still in the closet, Dean with the door wide open, but of Chad, he was about to make his grand entrance into being out. Turnng around, he tags Dean on the shoulder, "oh, forgot something."

Right there at the counter, even though only a handful of patrons, Chad reveals his intentions, pulling Dean's shoulder, adding a peck to his cheek. From there Dean feels both of Chad's hands on his chest, like they were trying to pry them apart. Slowly both men began to give in, as palms circulated under Dean's pits, slipping to his back.

If not for such a public place, Rick might've let it slide, but for his own benefit, being he walked into the cafe with them, "hey, you wanna stop that indecent stuff, you two, before I have to put you in cuffs?"

It did disturb the circle of four men at a table. If anyone were close by, would have picked up on the officer being out of line, perhaps homophobic. But being the cop went along and not his own way, the circle of friends went about their business, drinking coffee, chomping on breakfast food and conversing about the new gay night club which opened the next town over.

Breaking apart, Dean says to Rick, "well, did you get his number?"

"Who?" the 41-year old officer acts like he hadn't taken notice.

Knowing the coverup, Dean says, "yeah. Right, Ricky. The waiter, dah?"

Squinting his eyes, Rick thought Dean was getting awfully familiar. Putting two and two together, that seedy motel he raided on the edge of town, the most memorable character began to come into focus.

"Hey, wait a minute. I know you," he singles Dean out, waving a finger in his face.

Like painting an original portrait, Dean says with a grin on his face, while leaning in to Rick's ear, "yeah, I know. Felt kind of erotic watching you lick your lips, wanting to be the dude stretched out on the bed, having his hairy navel licked out. Bet you wish it were yours, Ricky?"

He giggled.

"Really?" Chad was enthused. "Licking your lips, Rick?"

Rick looked around before setting his eyes to focus on Dean, "yeah, well, we need to keep our voices down?"

"I heard later on a couple of guys got arrested. Strange, Ricky, that you closed the door behind you and didn't turn back, to call the other officers in?"

Having a hunch Rick not the only officer in the precinct gay, "hmm, you might have a couple of officers willing to strip down and get it on with you, Dean?"

"Hmm, 'party planner' you're second job, Ricky?"

Chad laughed along with Dean, but the cop wasn't humored.

"Seriously, guys?"

Chad had no doubts he and Dean could have some fun with Rick. From first hand, he knew how it went, one on one with the cop. He was honored, being the first dude Rick stuffed his thick slab into. It hurt, but only until the full stretch mellowed out. After that, it didn't take long before Chad was shooting his own load.

The young kid that was working there escorted the trio to a table, a nice sunny location near the window, "how's this, okay?"

Dean wanted to say, it could be better, if the waiter wasn't dressed, but, "great."

Having scrutinized the past couple of years, morphing from high school to college, he could have sworn he knew the waiter, thinking of him as a soccer or basketball player.

"I'll leave some menus and be back in five."

"So," Rick says, "he looks a little underage for that kind of a party."

"Party?" Dean questions. "Which one?"

"Steven Steves?"

First to come to Dean's mind, "oh? And how would you know what goes on at Steven's party, Rick?"

Under the gun, Chad gets his dig in, "yeah, Rick, how would you know what goes on at Steven's parties?"

Inquisitive minds want to know!

"Well, um," Rick acts like he has a queasy stomach, venting at the collar with a finger, "I kind of have an inside pair of eyes."

After all, he lives at the Steves estate and wanting to know all the dirt tossesd around, Dean, like playing the dominator for a client, interrogates, "who might that be?"

He thought he had Dean by the balls, "it wouldn't be a secret if I went around telling everyone, now would it?"

"And it wouldn't be a secret if I sent to your sargeant at the precinct, an account, detailing all that went on at Sam's seedy motel the night of the raid, how you're pants started tenting after less than a minute, of how..."

Challenging Dean, "you wouldn't?"

"Would," Dean replies, but hardly thought he would ever do it to Rick, because what goes around, comes around and it would implicate him, as being 'under aged' at the time he met up with some married guy at Sam's seedy motel.

Rick bought it, Dean not flinching a muscle and standing his ground, "I guess you have me there."

Obviously, as it makes Chad smile, a part of Dean's personality he picks up on, coercion without terrorizing.

Playing it cool, Rick utters, "Pat."

"Pat who."

Furthering, Rick offers the littlest amount of info, "Patrick."

Having lived at Steve Steve's pad for part of his college year, Dean knows everyone who comes and goes. Recalling like a database in his mind, he comes up with two Patricks, "ginger or blond?"

Rather enjoying the interrogation, Rick lies, "blond."

Chad says, "no, it's the ginger-Patrick?"

Being they were both in law enforcement in one way or another, Rick says, "hey, who's side are you on, Barrett?"

If he expected to get laid tonight, he had better choose wisely, "Dean's of course."

Dean smiles, knowing Chad wants more than anything, to get dicked tonight!

Part of his job, to investigate and report back, Chad was enjoying sitting back, relaxing and watching Rick squirm. It also made his balls tick.

"Oh, that Patrick," Dean sits back and exhales, like he had just interrogated it out of the police officer.

It wasn't a mystery to Rick, why Patrick was such a hit at Steve Steve's parties. There was talk around the precinct that Patrick had handed in his resignation and because of his incredibly good looks and hot bod, had landed himself a job as a mega-model, making tons more money than as undercover officer. It also instilled a feeling of wanting to come out, as Patrick had done, admitting he was gay and not experiencing any repercussions. Though, Patrick was on his way out, Rick stuck there in his job and not sure he could take the ribbing by his fellow officers, if they should find out he is gay.

He didn't ask how Dean knew him, Rick keeping it simple, "so you know the Patrick I'm talking about?"

Chad had a hobby, investigating beyond the call of duty, for his own satisfaction and curiosity, "you and Patrick, Rick? Really? And how did things turn out?"

Rick gloated, knowing he had one over on Chad, "you're the investigative reporter, Barrett?"

Next thing they knew, the waiter had a tray and hovering above, asks, "water?"

Before they could answer, the lad is dealing out the sweaty glasses of ice water. Accidentally, the glass he is serving Rick, sloshes out, "oh, I'm so sorry officer."

He doesn't offer the officer a towel to sop up his crotch, instead fleeing the scene.

Using his own napkin, Rick says, "that was kind of rude."

Dean jokes, "are you sure you didn't tick him off at Sam's?"

Of the seedy motel, Rick details, "I don't even know him."

Good investigative reporter, Chad detects something different and being he's been on the other side of the stick, "uh, excuse me a moment," he stands, dropping a folded napkin on the table, "gotta use the mens room."

While away, Dean went on, fabricating a story of Rick meeting up with the waiter at the seedy motel and supposing what went on which would lead the lad to be upset, like not being able to get it up.

Meantime, Chad detours from the mens room to the door of the kitchen, saying, "a word?"

The manager, standing there with the two chefs, and two waiters, asks, "is there a problem?"

"No problem," Chad says, "just would like to have a little chat with my friend here."

A new establishment, the manager hasn't set in steel all the rules and regulations, rather dishing them out as they come, "go ahead, but I'd like a word with you later?"

They walk the hallway towards the back door.

Turning around abruptly, Chad begins his interrogation, but not as he would if addressing a criminal, "now, what was that all about?"

He knew, but refutes, "what's what about?"

Chad knew some of the gestures of interrogation, like standing firm, arms folded across the middle, like a parent with the edge on a child, showing he wasn't about to take any shit, "I think we both can guess?"

Swallowing, the lad suddenly loses the tough edge, but still stood his ground, "I don't know what you mean."

Unfolding his arms, Chad, acting like he had been in his position as a fifty year old investigator and not twenty-five, questions, "dumping water in my friend's lap?"

Apparently, he knew his interrogator was onto him, "oh that. An accident. Sorry about that," he backs down.

"What's your name?"

"Thomas."

The atmosphere chilling out, Chad asks, "how old are you, Thomas?"

"Eighteen." And, because he was into older guys, forced by habit, Thomas asks, "how old are you?"

Not a stranger to such questioning, by younger dudes, Chad says, "twenty-five, but you're a little too young for me."

Changing like a chameleon, perhaps by a little embarrassment, being found out, Thomas confesses, "I know, but I think you're hot just the same?"

It's not the first time a young guy tried to beat the law, choosing flattery, but this wasn't that type of situation, Chad saying, "I think you're cute too, but back on topic, is it just my friend you don't like, or is it all cops?"

"Oh," Thomas acts solemn, regretting his feelings had to get in the way with meeting a hot, older man, "that."

Interrupting them, Dean shows, saying, "uh, is there a problem, Chad? Having trouble urinating?"

Both turn to Dean and smile.

About to get to the bottom of things, Chad says, "the plumbing's in good working order, thanks for caring."

He was about to introduce both, when Thomas says to Dean, "you were on the high school football team, right?"

"Yeah, right," Dean returns the knuckle bump, "you played soccer, or is it basketball?"

"Both actually, but neither one agreed with me. I went out for track eventually."

Impatient with being solo at the table, Rick appears.

Same time, Thomas' manager approaches, and seeing the uniformed officer, "do we have a problem here?"

Certainly, this not being official police business, Rick didn't want to make a scene and after viewing Chad rolling his eyes towards the head honcho, "no. No problem." His lead in, "are you the manager?"

"That I am," he willingly takes Rick's hand, "Jared Pappas at your service, officer."

'That was easy,' Rick thought.

Jared looks down. Normally he would be checking out the 'package', but of the wet spot, "um, do you need to use the mens room?"

"My fault, Thomas blurts out, "sorry for spilling water in your crotch, officer."

"Really? First day on the job, Thomas?"

Easygoing, Jared could blame someone, but five minutes later everything would be forgiven.

With the police officer, Jared had spotted him even before he walked in the door of the cafe, which having gotten this far, "coffee's on the house," he grabs a wad of napkins, "and let's see if we can't get you dried off?"

An eye-opener for Rick, he wondered 'who' was going to be the one to dry his crotch!

"Here you go," Jared offers the fistful.

Half-disappointed, partially embarrassed, Rick was glad Jared's hand wasn't coming in contact with his zipper area, "thanks, but I'll still take that cup of coffee you're offering?"

If Chad or Dean were worried about Rick getting the manager's phone number, all that was for nothing, watching him follow Jared into the kitchen.

"Nice place you got here," Rick says with nervousness.

"Thanks," Jared says and eager to keep the police officer's attention, "but originally I was in landscaping."

He skirted around the fact he had been arrested, drunken and disorderly and was paying back the system with community service!

"Is that so?"

Based on old-fashioned tradition, Jared takes Rick to a private table, set up in the kitchen.

"Nice," Rick says, sitting down.

"A family tradition," he hands Rick a cup of coffee. "Oh, by the way, are you on duty?"

"I can spare a few minutes," Rick really wanting to spend a few hours!

A small police department, he could take all the time he wanted, being a senior officer.

"So, what's your story?"

Perplexed, Jared had wondered if Rick had heard about his whiskey-fueled accident, mowing down half the bushes in front of town hall. Digging Rick, he moved away and talked up the business, "well, my brother already had one successful cafe and decided there was room for another location. Being I had some experience with the landscaping business, he set me up as manager."

Really, Jared fibbed and told his brother he was manager of the landscaping crew, when it was only him, under Reed's thumb!

"That's great," Rick says, adding, "and so is the coffee," he sips.

Already on it, piling a few donuts and danish on a plate, Jared says, "what can I get you?"

The plate of baked goods looked mighty enticing, but Rick wondered what Jared was packing in his pants, "oh, that'll do."

Every morning Jared dressed for work, he was glad of the fact he had to wear a white shirt. When his brother told him where to buy the uniform, Jared made sure he had a size smaller. Since a teen, he had been infatuated with his own nipples, both in looks and touching them, more if he could get a guy to do a deep massage! It was instant gratification, touch and feel making an electric connection to his cock. Not only did the almost sheer fabric show the pointy nips, contoured by pinching them over time, but also the outline of the pattern of dark hair on his chest and stomach.

"Really, because if you see anything else you'd like?"

Of Rick's estimation, there was plenty!

"Oh, boss," Thomas pokes his head in, "I'm going to take my first break, if that's okay?"

That's one of the things Jared thought about Thomas, the forward way of saying, which gave him his own way, "of course."

A manager Jared wasn't, not in the educated sense. As backup, his brother set in place the chef, a longtime friend and 'spy'. But the spying part never got back to his brother, Jared offering a blowjob as collateral!

Getting right down to business, after placing the platter of pastries in the center of the table and pushing towards Rick, Jared says, "so, tell me about you."

Interrupted by Thomas the first time, was immaterial, but his beeper, Rick says, "duty calls," he gets up, "but could we continue this later?"

Evening out were a plus in Jared's life, especially trips to Sam's seedy motel, which had him saying, "I get off at six?"

"I'll stop by and pick you up. We can get some supper."

On his journey back to the table he occupied with Dean and Chad, Rick thought, 'that was easy!'

"Hey, you're back," Chad welcomes Rick.

Not sitting, on his way passing through, Rick says, "duty calls."

They bid each other a good day, but Rick knows, 'later' will probably not be until the day after, or later!

Still at the table and no agenda ahead of them, Chad and Dean listen to Thomas' story.

Not much different than other gay boys, living in a churched family, he kept being gay a secret. Having a lovely singing voice he took up with singing in the choir. Years rolled by and at age fifteen Thomas picked up a guitar. Since then, it's become a good friend!

As stuff can happen, he befriended a fellow choir member, Stefan. A former Jewish boy, Stef learned to play drums all by himself, picking out rhythms of the street in his hometown, Brooklyn, a set of drums for Christmas gave him all he needed for a music career to take flight. Something special between Thomas and Stef took place sixteenth and seventeeth years, after shortly forming a duo six months prior.

"On a retreat with our church, Stef and I shared the same cabin with two other boys. Only, the other two didn't show up at the bus, so we had the whole cabin to ourselves."

"Yeah," Chad jumps the gun, "then what happened?"

It earned him a kick under the table, Dean knowing exactly where Chad's curiosity was steering the conversation, "never mind him. Go on, Thomas."

Thomas hadn't picked up on Chad's path of thinking, "I had no clue about Stef and other than playing drums and being half-Jewish, but he was sure good at it."

As Stef would do, calling attention to himself, after explaining about his love for drumming, Thomas places both hands on corresponding pecs, left hand over left pec, right over right and taps out a cool pattern of rhythm, one to his liking.

While Chad took it as a way of stimulating his own nips, Dean let that stuff slip his mind. What the Heck bro hadn't realized, his opinion was changing to be much like Sean's was, back in the day when high school could be the apex of experimentation when it came to gay dudes coming of age.

Upon entering their college years, Dean did go into it, as a field waiting to be cracked open, sexually. What he didn't realize, as in high school, the balance between tops and bottoms, the ratio off the charts. Though being a good looking freshman, when it came to a dude having the wanting to have his hole plugged, he wasn't the only candidate. Urges to have dick, great or small, is what ruled the campus gay-dude population. Given a tip by a sophomore guy, Mitch, who seemed to have one goal in college, see how many asses he could plug a day, told him how to rise above the others. Whereas, in high school, Dean's impression of having the longest and widest shaft, ruled, was not so when the top population increased, though like in HS, the balance was the same, more tops to bottoms. Dean did lose study time, sitting there at his dorm desk, naked, hands behind his head as he stretched out, pondering what Mitch had told him. That first call Dean got, lo and behold, hands moving quickly from cradling his scalp, to picking up his illuminated cell, he was surprised to hear that the caller had been recommended by none other than, 'Mitch'!

Dean did pick up a lot of cash in his first three years of college, enough to take him off scholarship, more freedom, off the work-study program. He also became more of a novelty, not limiting his clientele to just the student population. Of professors, he found his psych prof, Professor Hyram, Adam, one of his biggest customers. Not only big cock, but also a little overweight, having a big-bear, hairy belly, the ability to finance a bankroll which could support a daily appetite. After all, when students unloaded their problems on him, Adam had to find a way to release his own built up tensions. What better way than to hire a 'top', who also liked a guy with much hair on his bod, a rounded belly and when it came to below the belt, instead of a tongue, dug in with an 8-inch drill bit!

However, much as he began purging the file containing his personal database, the one who benefitted him most, financially, always remained at the top of his list. Though, Dean couldn't justify, even though he swore his boyfriend for all time would be a dark, hairy dude, a little chubby belly and perhaps beefy pecs, why he dug a guy like Chad. Granted, Dean loved the fuzzy pecs, thin trail down Chad's abs and all the other superlatives, but what he had hoped and dreamed for...Dean can't believe he fell head over heels for a muscled stomach. On his down psychological tirade, he one evening, while lying on Prof Hyram's stomach, after dumping a load, told himself his skinny ribs could never give into lying on a soft, fluffy mound of hair. Things change. People change. Opinions, likewise.

It was good, too, having a horny boyfriend like Chad, because of what Thomas was telling them, he sooned tired of the same facts being repeated later on in his history. In a way, he was glad of Chad's horny honing in on Thomas.

At twenty-five, Chad had worked his way through college, picking up 'odd jobs' to make ends meet. Unlike Dean, Chad could be found more on his knees, hovering over a man's pubes, ass or lying flat on his back, having mouth flavored with another dude's juices, or ass laced with a frat-bro's slimy goo. If not a picky partner, Chad might have been labeled one of the campus sluts.

Thomas, having been released from waitering tables by his boss, after spending fifteen minutes sitting at Dean and Chad's tables, was finally given the cut off, Jared stopping by, and not exactly knowing how he would break up their conversation, sees and in, "sorry guys, but it's getting busy in here, so I'll need to put Thomas back into service."

Didn't phase Chad. Man, would he love to be put into service under Jared's balls!

It did awaken Dean, "oh sure. We understand completely."

At that, Thomas got up, took his pad and proceeded to a table. Jared hurried back to the kitchen.

"Well, that sure made me horny."

Half-paying attention, Dean did catch the end of Thomas' story, "the part about the cop pulling his van over?"

"Among other things," Chad replies, "but I sure wish I was riding along with him and Stef in their van!"

Like picking through a turkey at the end of a Thanksgiving dinner, Dean had gathered bits and pieces of conversation, enough to formulate his own take, "must've been hot being in the cop's shoes."

It threw Chad a loop. Like, being a detective, detailed in putting facts together and drawing a conclusion of the outcome, "really? Like, where was your mind, Dean?"

Getting up out of their seats, they didn't need to leave money for the coffee and donuts, but Chad did pull a ten out of a wad of bills, anchoring it under the salt shaker.

"My mind? What do you mean?"

Holding the door for Dean, Chad says, "what do I mean, eh? When you say you would like to be more like the cop, I highly doubt that!"

He giggled, which made Dean focus more on Thomas, Stef and the police officer pulling over their van, as opposed to what was really on his mind, riding Prof Hyram's ass.

Playing it cool, Dean says, "if what you're getting at, I got it, but didn't exactly get where Thomas was going with his story."

It was Chad's job to listen to people, analyze what they were telling him and decide whether the truth was being told, or they were lying through their teeth. There was a big difference here, the criminal, whether they told the truth or lied when taking the stand in a court of law.

Sometimes, it took rewording a question, or downright badgering, in Chad's line of work. But this wasn't work. If he wanted to have a future more in pleasure than work, he'd have to step down off his high and mighty perch, "what Thomas was saying is," Chad knowing Thomas was clear in his telling of the story, "he didn't think the police officer who pulled them over for speeding really did have a case. He had no record down on paper, or had to chase them down, to warrant pulling them over."

Getting into Dean's truck, he furthers, "then what made him pull them over?"

Furthering his investigative thinking, Chad says, "two teenagers in an old van, going a little over the speed limit to get to the gig of a lifetime."

Certain all the pieces weren't there, Dean saying, "I guess I missed it, like what was so important?"

Driving did seem to get his mind off things, Dean still a little semi-hard over thinking about Adam's hairy belly.

"Wouldn't you be anxious to get to a gig on time, if you knew music producers were going to be in the audience?"

There. That was it, part of the story which made the pieces come together, putting it into focus, "oh, poor Thomas."

"I know." Chad was always conscious of his surroundings, looking all around. "I have a good mind to find out who the cop is and finding what precinct he works out of."

"What?" Dean poses, after Chad becomes silent.

After detecting nothing amiss outside the cab of the truck, Chad focuses on the driver, "if I was to find out, would be cool if he had you to teach him a lesson!"

With thoughts jumbled up, Dean asks, "me? Lesson? Why me? What kind of a lesson?"

Still Chad was quiet, thinking nasty thoughts.

"Isn't that like, going against all the things they teach you in detective school?"

"I guess you can say that." Futhering his fantasy, Chad says, "but man, would I like to be a fly on the wall, watching you give this cop heck!"

"Is that a joke?"

Chad than realizes, Dean's surname, "oh, sorry about that. It wasn't meant to be part of," he restructures his statement, "what I meant is give him hell."

Showing support, Dean says, "for Thomas' sake, I'd sure like to give him more than hell!"

However, for now, Chad was letting the subject die, wanting to get more than hell from Dean, "so, you want to head over to my place?"

It did occur to Dean, right around entering his senior year of college that after graduation, having a degree, seeking employment, he might like to find a dude to settle down with. Of course, the ultimate man in his life would have to have super sucking skills and a tight ass to come home to every night.

With no time like the present to find out, "do I need to plug it into my GPS?"

Wishful thinking, Chad says, "I'd rather it be my ass!"

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Copyright 2020 T. Chase McPhee

Developing segments of 'See The Good In All Things', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.