“Pretty good,” Spencer answered. “It was rough for a while. I was pretty sick and it took my system some time to adjust to the medicines, but it did. Obviously, I’ll always be HIV positive, at least till they find a cure.” His voice contained such hope that Justin couldn’t help but wish one would be found soon. “But my regimen has been good. My viral load is undetectable, and my white blood cell count is almost four hundred.”
“That’s pretty close to normal,” Justin said.
Spencer nodded. “My doctor says that as long as I keep taking my medicines and practice safe sex I have virtually no chance of infecting any sexual partners, since my viral load is undetectable.”
For a few moments, they once again sat in silence. Spencer had opened up to him in a way that no one had ever done before, and Justin had a feeling doing so was unusual for him. Justin had never felt closer to another individual than he did to Spencer at that moment in time.
Like a balloon filled with helium, Justin released any previous fear he’d held onto about HIV. The virus was simply a virus. It wasn’t who Spencer was; it was something he had. Being positive didn’t make him a pariah or any less deserving of love or human contact. In fact, it made him more deserving.
More than ever, Justin wanted to once again relish in the feel of Spencer’s skin against his body. His flesh yearned for it, and it called out to Spencer.
Spencer turned to him in response to Justin’s unspoken desire.
Still naked and vulnerable, Justin moved over to sit closer to Spencer and reached out to caress his cheek. Once again, Spencer’s body shuddered. Justin drew closer and kissed his cheek, then his chin, and finally his lips.
They both knew instinctively what the contact meant. This was no longer about sex. This was an offer. More than a simple fuck, their caresses acknowledged that something real existed between them. Somewhere between the midnight kiss at the Bonham and this moment, their souls had become intertwined.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you right now.”
Spencer ran his fingers through the back of Justin's hair. “I’ve never wanted to give myself to anyone more than I do right now.”
Without another word, Justin removed Spencer’s clothes, piece by piece, and though he had already seen him naked, the sight of his smooth, white flesh and erect cock excited him as if this were his first time. Once undressed, he led Spencer to the bedroom, where he crawled onto the bed.
Justin maneuvered on top, hovering above Spencer but not yet touching his body. Even though he longed to feel Spencer against him again, he couldn’t stop looking at the gorgeous man beneath him. A lustful fire blazed brightly behind Spencer’s eyes. His blond hair, disheveled from their almost-sex on the couch, spread about his head in a ring of angelic light. And his skin, pure white and fragile, shook with anticipation, begging to be touched.
When Justin finally lowered himself onto Spencer, the breath left his body. Spencer immediately kissed him, breathing life back into him with his hot passionate exhales, and their tongues resumed their dance as if there had been no lapse to the music that brought them together.
Their rigid shafts slid between them, thrusting against the smooth flesh of the other and leaving trails of sticky juice across their stomachs. Spencer wrapped his legs around Justin’s waist, grinding their pelvises more roughly together.
When Justin chewed on Spencer’s neck, Spencer whimpered in delight. His hands immediately sought out Justin’s ass and squeezed them tightly.
“You feel so good,” Spencer told him.
“Not better than you,” he replied breathlessly before gliding his tongue down from Spencer’s neck past his nipples to the engorged piece of meat lying across his stomach. The last time he tried this, Spencer had stopped him. He knew there would be no stopping now.
He took Spencer’s stiffness in his hand, gently moving the flesh up and down while teasing more liquid from the purple knob. Lightly, Justin flicked his tongue across the swollen glans, and even though no condom separated his lips from Spencer’s leaking shaft, he savored the fluid before swallowing him whole. It wasn’t the safest practice, but right now he needed to taste Spencer unencumbered, with nothing in between them.
Their souls had been laid bare, and for the moment so must their contact.
“Oh, God, yes!” Spencer exclaimed while clawing at the bedsheets. “Your mouth is so hot.”
Justin nuzzled Spencer’s cock all the way down to his pubic hair. When he inhaled, the musk of Spencer’s sex filled his nostrils. Intoxicated by the scent, he slowly began to bob up and down on Spencer’s manhood, using his tongue and throat to tickle and massage the throbbing member.
“Just like that,” Spencer cooed. “You’re so amazing.”
While he worked Spencer in and out of his mouth, Spencer turned him around so he could sample Justin’s cock. He massaged Justin’s balls in one hand while the other rubbed his groin and inner thighs. The combination sent shockwaves throughout Justin’s body. His cock became so hard it hurt, and sweat began to pour down his body.
When Spencer’s hot mouth finally wrapped around him, he almost fainted. Spencer’s tongue swirled around the head as he increased both suction and friction at the same time. He took the length of Justin down his throat, working his throat muscles in a sensual massage before pulling off and starting again, which was a dangerous combination.
“You’re gonna make me come,” Justin warned.
Spencer allowed Justin’s dick to fall from his mouth and wiped the spit from his chin. “Not yet,” he said. “You have to fuck me first.”
Justin reached for the bedside table while Spencer positioned himself on his back. While he pulled out the condom and lube and made the necessary preparations, Spencer spread his legs and revealed his pink center. “This is where you belong,” he whispered. “Inside me.”
Unable to speak, Justin nodded in response before climbing between Spencer’s legs. He held onto his sheathed cock, aiming it directly at the core of Spencer’s being. He drew closer, then hesitated at the threshold, wanting to prolong the moment forever.
“Please,” Spencer pleaded in a husky voice, and that was all Justin needed to hear. He pressed into him, parting his flesh and losing himself in the tight grip. Spencer whimpered, begging him to go deeper.
Within moments, Justin was firmly buried inside. They were now one.
He stared into Spencer’s eyes as he slowly worked himself in and out of Spencer’s hole. When he pulled outward, leaving only the head of his cock inside, Spencer’s ass muscles tightened, drawing him back to the silky interior. When he was all the way in, when his balls rested against Spencer’s crack, their bodies trembled.
They both teetered on the edge of climax.
“Do it,” Spencer commanded. “Make us come.”
Justin rose up, holding Spencer’s legs in front of him by grasping him behind the knees. With Spencer’s legs as his anchor, he began slowly thrusting in and out of Spencer before picking up the pace.
As he hammered away inside, Spencer jacked his hard cock, furiously matching his strokes to Justin’s thrusts. Faster and harder he fucked. His lungs begged for air. His muscles ached from the strain of his animalistic pace, but he had no intention of stopping.
Whimpering beneath him, Spencer writhed in pleasure as Justin’s every thrust obviously stimulated his pleasure button, bringing him ever closer to blowing his load.
Spencer grunted as his cock exploded thick ropes of cream, coating both their stomachs. As he climaxed, Spencer’s ass contracted around Justin’s dick, bringing him over the edge. With a final hard thrust, Justin groaned as he climaxed deep within Spencer.
Spent and exhausted, he collapsed. Spencer wrapped his arms around his chest and his legs around his waist. They held each other tightly, refusing to let the other go, as their rapidly beating hearts slowed to a joint rhythm.
CHAPTER 9
2010
PEERING through the men’s room door,
just outside the ICU of Methodist Hospital, Spencer’s heart raced like Secretariat’s during the last leg of the Kentucky Derby. All he could do now was wait for the night nurse to abandon her post, so he could sneak into Dutch’s room.
What he would do once he actually made it in there hadn’t been formulated yet. After he left home—no, he couldn’t think of the house as home. Not any longer, not if he wished to maintain his strength and his sanity.
After he left Justin’s house, he drove without purpose, without direction. He entertained the idea of heading to Tyler’s, but that would not only be an imposition but also unfair. Tyler didn’t deserve to be thrust in the middle of their dissolving union. Besides, that would likely be the first place Justin would look, and he had no intention of running into him today, tomorrow, or the foreseeable future.
He dismissed the idea of heading to his parents’ house as quickly as it entered his mind. Carolyn was the next logical choice, and when he called her and woke her up, his sister had sounded too pleased to hear the distress Justin caused him. He had enough to deal with than to add her gloating to the mix.
That was when the idea hit him like a Mack truck doing ninety on the interstate. He needed to see Dutch, to confront him, to ask him why, after….
But he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to bide his time and wait for the right moment to strike.
I love it when you use my words, son, his father said, appearing like a wraith at his side. Makes me damn proud.
Ignoring his father, who never once had admitted in real life how proud he was of him, Spencer turned his attention back to the nurse. She busily typed away at the computer. The light from the screen cast dark shadows upon her thin, angular face. It twisted her features, making her look sadistic and cruel. More of a modern Nurse Ratched than Florence Nightingale. All she needed was the white nurse’s cap and the out of style page-boy cut. Instead, her hair was tightly pulled back into an even tighter bun.
What is it with you gays? Are you all experts on classic movies and hair? his father asked, completely disgusted. You’ve lived a good ten years on the Hershey highway. Look where that’s gotten you. A good wet pussy will cure what ails you. It always worked for me.
Spencer’s body shuddered at the thought of female genitalia and his father’s obvious relish for the lady parts, a fact he’d never hidden from them as children, as adults, or in front of others. He found the entire topic disgusting and inappropriate for any situation. As he’d done on those occasions, he tuned out his father, focusing on the nurse instead.
You can pretend to ignore me all you want, son. You and I both know that at times like this, mine’s the only voice you ever listen to. Whether I’m talking about pussy or not. Hell, I’m the one who gave you your damned armor you always wore like a fucking Knight of the Round Table.
The nurse rose from the computer and looked at her watch. Spencer hoped it was time for her rounds. Picking up a stack of metal charts, she rounded the desk and started in his direction. Spencer froze. With the men’s room door ajar, she appeared to be looking at him. His mind spun stories about getting lost or looking for some made-up person, but when she turned around and went the opposite direction, he exhaled in relief.
She disappeared into one of the rooms on the far left side. When the door closed behind her, he cautiously stepped out of the men’s room and into the dimly lit hallway. No one rushed at him, questioning his presence on the floor. He took that as a good sign and hurried past the nurse’s station to read the name on the first patient’s door on the right side of the hall.
R. Gonzales occupied this one, according to the handwritten label adhered underneath the room number. A quick run down the hall revealed rooms with L. Jefferson, C. Goldman, and P. Hunter within them.
Spencer worried he would be unable to find the room before the nurse reentered the hall to find him scurrying from door to door, or that Dutch’s room was the one the nurse had entered. Finally, at the end of the hall, he located a room with L. Keller as its occupant.
He paused, his hand upon the door, wanting to open it but also wanting to vomit. His desire to see Dutch vanished. Seeing him would make everything more concrete, turn it into something that could obliterate the armor he once again wore.
Don’t be a fucking sissy, his father said. You came here with a purpose. Now see that purpose through. Just like you did when you broke your brother’s arm.
Spencer shoved the door open and entered the room.
Before him, Dutch lay on the hospital bed. Numerous tubes and lines extended from his sleeping body to the panel behind the bed and to the machines to the left and right. Spencer recognized the heart rate monitor and the IV drip, but the others were foreign to him, as if he were looking at equipment more extraterrestrial than man-made.
Dutch’s lips were swollen and bloodied. Angry, red scabs spotted his face and blood-soaked gauze bandages clung to his chest, face, and arms, which disappeared beneath the cream-colored blanket.
The hospital gown was decorated with what appeared to be blue flowers of some unrecognizable variety, and the gown lay open and pulled down, revealing his broad shoulders and fur-matted chest. No tubes disappeared down his throat, and his chest rose and fell on its own, which meant that Dutch was breathing without assistance. Spencer took that as a good sign.
A good sign? His father balked. This faggot fucked Justin. Or Justin fucked him. I never know how it works with you people.
Shut up! he told his father. Now’s not the time.
Now’s the perfect time. He’s asleep and defenseless. It’s time for you to pay him back for what he did to you.
I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not here to….
Don’t pretend you’re not here for payback. That’s the only reason you’re here. Hell, it’s the only reason I’m here. You want this motherfucker to suffer for the pain he’s caused you. I couldn’t agree more. Find something to bash him over the head with. Or break one of those vases filled with flowers and plunge the glass into his stomach.
Spencer approached the bed and looked into Dutch’s defenseless face. He couldn’t lie. He wanted to hurt Dutch. He wanted to make him suffer and feel the devastation that he himself felt.
I told you, his father said, egging him on. Now, do it before it’s too late.
He shook his head. It was already too late. Seeing Dutch like this, bruised and broken, seemed repayment enough.
Oh, for Christ’s sake! his father bitched behind him.
Spencer didn’t listen. His father’s protests and curses drifted away, drowned out by the roar of time, which washed over him like a wave, dragging him back to the moment a little over a year ago, when he’d first met Dutch.
“Dr. Harrison, I’d like to introduce you to Dutch Keller.”
Spencer looked up from the application he was reading, and when he saw Dutch, his breath caught in his throat. Dark-black hair cut short, most likely by a number four clipper blade, surrounded a ruggedly handsome face lined with a short boxed beard.
He mumbled his usual greeting, saved only for applicants being interviewed for a position on campus. Dutch responded, but Spencer never heard the words. Crystal blue eyes gazed from behind dark-rimmed glasses, and the hand that shook his was warm and strong. All he could think about were Dutch’s eyes and hands.
“Please take a seat, Mr. Keller,” someone to his left said. Spencer shook his head, trying to regain his composure. He realized Dr. Darcy was the one who spoke as she waved Dutch into the seat next to Spencer.
Dutch took his seat, opposite the department chair, Dr. Peggy Cutting, and to the left of Dr. Jeanette Darcy, Dean of Arts, Humanities, and Social Sciences.
Dr. Darcy, as always, kicked off the interview. She asked Dutch why he was interested in teaching as a photography adjunct for St. Mary’s University, her standard first question.
Spencer never heard Dutch’s reply or even most of the other answers during the interview. He participated when it was his t
urn to ask a question, as indicated when everyone was suddenly looking at him, but during the thirty-minute interview, Spencer couldn’t halt the inappropriate thoughts playing in his mind.
He tried to force the images out by imagining a white board that, when erased, wiped his mind free of Dutch naked in bed.
When the enticing images faded, Justin came into the picture, smiling at him with that warm smile of his that always made Spencer’s toes tingle. Picturing Justin made him feel guilty. He had been back only a few weeks, and they were in the process of rebuilding their relationship from the disastrous state they’d left it in before his departure for Europe.
His mind should only be imagining Justin, not some random man he’d just met. After all, they had both committed themselves to ironing out the problems that had driven them apart. That was why he couldn’t understand what was happening to him.
For reasons incomprehensible to his rational mind, his primordial side burned his logic to the ground, and images of Dutch’s bare flesh once again emblazoned themselves into his mind.
He felt dirty, as if the images somehow equated with being unfaithful to a relationship he’d recently rededicated himself to. Were these thoughts portents of the unavoidable demise of his relationship with Justin? Was this his subconscious mind’s way of telling him the life he lived with Justin had effectively ended when he boarded that plane? Were the two of them simply delaying the inevitable?
“Thank you for your time,” Dutch said, rising from his seated position. He shook everyone’s hand, and when Dutch once again took Spencer’s hand in his, the touch felt more like a convergence than a farewell.
“I must have somehow known,” Spencer whispered to Dutch’s unconscious form. “All this time, I thought I was to blame for those thoughts, for what happened later. But it wasn’t me at all. I just somehow knew upon meeting you that you would lead to the end of me and Justin.”
“Excuse me?” a voice from behind him said, filled with irritation. “Visiting hours don’t begin until 9:00 a.m.”
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