by B. G. Thomas
And how when Howard wouldn’t give him the fairy tale, the monogamy, that seemed a small price to pay. He’d seen the desperate, lonely people who would do anything—anything—to have what he had with Howard. And so he had paid the price.
He told Kevin all of that. He sat up in the big bed—relatively big, at least compared to that small cot Kevin was curled up in.
Wyatt covered his face with his hands even though it was too dark to see anything.
And then he told Kevin all about his friends. He told Kevin about how in the last year they had all found lovers—it took him a long time, and Kevin never once stopped him except for an “uh-huh” or some other noise that let him know Kevin hadn’t fallen asleep—about how they had all found lovers who wanted only them.
He told Kevin about how he thought that maybe the Universe only allowed so much love, and that maybe he needed to be single so that they could have love.
And then…
AND THEN Kevin couldn’t stand it anymore.
He got out of that damned fucking cramped cot—how could anyone sleep in that thing?—and went to Wyatt’s bed. He climbed into it, and he pulled the sweet injured gorgeous beautiful kind adorable perfect harmed delightful belittled bear into his arms.
Their bodies fit perfectly together.
Kevin was wearing his long underwear and Wyatt—surprise, surprise—Wyatt wasn’t completely naked but wearing a big baggy T-shirt.
“Oh, sweet little one,” Kevin said. “There is no Cosmic Universal Scale demanding that you be alone so your friends can have love. I don’t know how they all ‘suddenly’ found love like that. But I know this….”
“Yes, Kevin?” Wyatt cried, trembling in Kevin’s arms.
“The Universe is Love. That’s what the Universe is! That’s what God is. Beyond being a candle or fire or wood or this cabin and this bed and the sky and the snow—”
…and the snow on my eyelashes.
“—God is Love. Unlimited love. Love isn’t an ocean—even as big as the ocean is, it has limits. But not love. Love is limitless. There is no ‘amount’ of love. It is endless, forever and ever and ever, and there is plenty for sweet little Wyatt. And it isn’t your job to be alone. It’s your job to open yourself for some man—”
Me! Make it me!
“—who will love you unconditionally and the way you want to be loved. Don’t settle. Wait for just what you want.”
Like I am going to wait for what I want, Kevin thought.
“Do not settle, Wyatt! Don’t ever settle again!”
“Oh, Kevin,” Wyatt cried. “Really? You believe this?”
“I do, Wyatt. I have to. Believe, Wyatt. Ask. Believe. Receive. It will happen.”
“Oh, Kevin,” Wyatt said.
And because telling someone else was reminding him to believe himself, he said, “Leap, my sweet little bear. Leap and the net will appear.”
Then, knowing it could be a mistake, Kevin kissed Wyatt.
Really kissed him.
Kissed him in a way that his body responded to, and he could feel Wyatt’s had too. He could feel Wyatt’s hard cock pressed against his lower tummy, and his own erection was wedged beneath the shorter man’s balls.
He opened his mouth, and Wyatt opened his, and their tongues came together in quiet desperation—neither gently and sweetly nor hard and rough. It was more like a dance than a duel, with each partner perfectly knowing their part.
And this is where I will do it. I will cast caution to the wind. We’ll have sex now, and it will kill me when Wyatt goes home and I go back to New York and I am more alone than I’ve ever been in my life.
And then…
Wyatt snuggled closer. Shoved his erection against Kevin. A couple of times.
And then…
Pulled his mouth ever so gently from Kevin’s.
And then…
He settled.
He stopped his little thrusts.
And said, “Okay. If it’s real, then let’s don’t have sex.”
Wait. What had Wyatt just said?
“I’m so hard my balls hurt, Kevin. But I want to believe what you say is real.”
It’s real, Kevin thought. And maybe…
“And I don’t want to settle. And I don’t know if I’m ready. And as good as you feel, Kevin, I don’t want to be hurt again. And if we make love now and you decide you don’t want me—”
Like that could happen.
“—it will kill me.”
Wyatt kissed him then, again. But gently and lightly.
“I can’t have you tell me something I don’t want to hear a week from now, Kevin,” Wyatt said.
Kevin suppressed a gasp. Wait. Those were his words. He was the one who always thought that way. Wyatt was always saying monogamy wasn’t natural. What had happened?
“Not again,” Wyatt went on. “And if you were some guy just wanting to fuck? I would probably be fucking with you right now. But you’ve made me believe that something more is possible. And that’s what I want.”
Kevin’s heart was pounding, and he both heard and felt Wyatt sob against his chest. Wyatt was crying. His tears were wetting Kevin’s chest where the buttons of his long johns were undone.
Oh God, Wyatt!
“I feel your cock, Kevin. God, I want it. But I want something more.”
Oh God, Wyatt.
“I’m going to do it. What you say. I’m going to goddamn leap.”
Oh, sweet Wyatt…. And then Kevin realized he was crying too.
“I’m asking, Kevin.”
Kevin took a deep, long breath.
“I am believing, Kevin.”
He knew the ache in his own balls would relax.
“Now wait and receive,” Kevin told the love of his life.
And he knew then that’s what Wyatt was. Wyatt was the love of his life.
Now all he had to do was believe.
Ask.
Believe.
And wait and see if this was what he was supposed to receive.
Then he heard Wyatt’s gentle snores, and he pulled Wyatt even closer.
He waited.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WYATT WOKE to filtered light coming around and under the window shade and the sound of beautiful birdsong—a cardinal, he realized—and the big man beside him. His eyes widened, and he let out a tiny gasp.
Kevin.
He was in bed with Kevin.
Wyatt was using Kevin’s chest, his big soft and hard left pectoral, as his pillow, and Kevin’s arm was around him for support. Wyatt’s left hand was resting on his tummy, right where the buttons of his snow-white long johns opened to reveal his navel and a V of torso covered with soft dark hair.
He was snuggled close to the big man, his left leg tossed over Kevin’s legs, and—yes—he was hard with a morning erection.
Wyatt’s first instinct was to take it in hand, stroke it gently, wake the man in such a way that more would follow. Perhaps them shifting so they could suck each other at the same time. Or maybe he would just crawl up onto Kevin, straddle him, take that big cock inside him, ride him. After all, Wyatt wasn’t wearing anything besides his T-shirt and thick socks.
And it had been so long since he’d been fucked.
Then Wyatt’s eyes went wide again as he realized that yes, he was naked below the waist, and that last night he and Kevin hadn’t had sex. And that he, too, was hard and had been slowly grinding himself against Kevin’s hip.
He froze.
Oh gods.
The blankets were mostly pulled up around them, and as Wyatt tried to move without disturbing Kevin, he saw that his feet were tangled in the sheet.
Gods!
Pants. Underwear. Something. He had to get something on.
Because they hadn’t had sex.
Because that had been important.
And as he stopped moving and rested there against the big man for a moment, he remembered why.
Proof.
It was a
bout waiting for proof.
That magic still happened.
“Oh sweet little one,” Kevin had said. “There is no Cosmic Universal Scale demanding you be alone so that your friends can have love. I don’t know how they all ‘suddenly’ found love like that. But I know this….”
“Yes, Kevin?”
“Love is limitless. There is no ‘amount’ of love. It is endless, forever and ever and ever and there is plenty for sweet little Wyatt. And it isn’t your job to be alone. It’s your job to open yourself for some man who will love you unconditionally and the way you want to be loved. Don’t settle. Wait for just what you want.”
And that’s what he did.
He, Wyatt Dolan, had waited!
Of course, Kevin had already said he didn’t want to have sex—not without something more. But Wyatt knew then and he knew now that it wouldn’t have taken much persuasion, especially after Kevin had gotten into bed with him. Howard had taught him many ways to seduce a man. He’d gotten good at it. Was quite good at it. He’d gotten straight men into bed.
But he had chosen to wait.
Suddenly words had started coming out of his mouth, and he hadn’t even known from where. He had said, “Okay. If it’s real, then let’s don’t have sex.”
He couldn’t believe he’d said it then, and he lay here in awe realizing it now. His balls had ached from want and need, and how long had it been since he’d had sex last? He hadn’t jerked off in days, and he usually came at least twice a day.
And then he’d said, “…I want to believe what you say is real.”
Could it be?
“And I don’t want to settle.”
He was tired of settling. Hadn’t he done that for ten years?
“And if we make love now….”
Make love! Had he actually used the words “make love”?
I did. I did use those words.
“…and you decide you don’t want me, it will kill me.”
Kill me?
Would it?
He remembered making a drunken pass at “Hodor” in the dark and being turned down. Turned down but being told, “I’m going to regret this Little Bear… but I can’t.”
Kevin had wanted him. He had just wanted more. And Wyatt couldn’t give him more because he had been with Howard. And he’d been so frustrated because he didn’t know why he and Hodor couldn’t just fuck.
Hodor—Kevin—was the one who wanted more.
Not me.
I’ve been the fucking poster child for nonmonogamy for years!
So who possessed me last night and said the things I said?
Wyatt kissed Kevin then, again. But gently and lightly.
“I can’t have you tell me something I don’t want to hear a week from now, Kevin.”
And gods…. It was true. Wyatt’s breath caught.
“Not again.”
Because there had been men. Men who had made him cheat. Not with his cock, but with something else entirely. Men who had treated him nice and made him feel like they wanted him and not just his body.
“And if you were some guy just wanting to fuck? I would probably be fucking you right now.”
He would have. Because that is what he did. Have sex with men. But Kevin made him believe there could be more.
“…you’ve made me believe that something more is possible. And that’s what I want.”
And then he’d begun to cry.
But Kevin hadn’t called him a crybaby. He’d held him tight.
Who possessed me to say those words?
And then Wyatt gasped.
Because he knew who it was. Who it was that possessed him. Who it was that had said those words.
Me! It was me! It was the Wyatt who’d read his mom’s Harlequin Romances and dreamed that it could happen to him.
It was me!
He had done it, in no matter how small a way.
Because I want more than sex.
Echoes of the past came to visit him then….
“Monogamy is not normal.”
He had said that. Many, many times. He’d preached it.
Preached Howard’s message.
“We’re men, Wyatt.”
Howard had told him time and time again.
“The only reason you want monogamy is that’s what you’ve been taught. It’s cultural brainwashing. That you’re supposed to be with only one person. But that is so medieval.”
Howard had preached it as his life’s mission as if he were on the pulpit of some kind of Carnal Crystal Cathedral.
“…when you see a guy that turns you on? And he’s willing? You should be able to have sex with him. You should have that right. You should be able to go for it. All men are different. We like different things. We’re shaped different. We have different sized cocks. Some are cut, some are uncut. God! Think about it! You got jocks and bears and cubs and chubs and pups and muscle men and leathermen and twinks and lumberjacks and otters and that’s not even counting black men and Asian men and men from the Middle East and Latinos! And there is all they like to do! Some men like to fuck. Some like to be fucked. There’s role-playing and rough sex and spanking and watersports and sounding and orgies and….”
And he had listened. He’d converted. Like the Christians converted the Pagans in ancient times.
Convert or die.
Or the way they’d converted the Hawaiians. “Saving” them. The Mormons converting the Samoans? Should he count the conversion of the Tibetans from Bon to Buddhism? At least that last became a marriage of two religions.
He’d converted. Convert or lose Howard, and he had desperately not wanted to lose Howard. Who had saved him and given him a gay life, and introduced him to the pagan community… and gods! To Men’s Festival!
“You’re young” came Howard’s echo. “You need to sow your wild oats, Wyatt! Try things. Try different men. Experience life. I mean, don’t you ever want to try topping?”
Of course he’d wanted to try it. A beauty of being gay was that you could do both! Howard sure wasn’t going to let Wyatt fuck him.
(except he let big-dicked men fuck him over coffee tables found at little antique stores)
And Wyatt had liked topping. It was amazing. Two men joining that way! Spreading a man’s legs and seeing that beautiful hole, and the permission to take it and join with him, man to man.
But it had never given Wyatt the joy of when Howard fucked him. Claiming him.
At least in the early days….
Wait. Claiming him? Or enslaving him?
Yes. I converted hook, line, and sinker.
Became a willing slave.
Became a “fucking” missionary.
“Gays are forgetting who we are, Asher. Gay is becoming okay because we’re becoming homogenized, no pun intended. Gay marriage, gay churches, even the pope—an enemy—is suddenly telling people not to judge us. But don’t you see? The world is saying that ‘homo’ is okay as long as we act just like them. Find a man, get married, adopt two point five kids, buy a house with a white picket fence. We’re okay—as long as we don’t wear pink and don’t kiss in public. And as long as we’re monogamous.”
Wyatt closed his eyes tight. Gods. My words. I said that.
No.
Not my words.
It killed me when Howard said we could never be monogamous!
And then came Kevin’s words.
“I don’t care if monogamy isn’t ‘gay.’ That’s what I want. Cauley said the same thing. That gay men didn’t need to be monogamous.”
And gods… Kevin had been converted too. And he hadn’t liked it.
But I did. I liked the sex. I liked the men. I liked the experiences. I can’t fucking blame it all on Howard. I liked it.
“I don’t care if monogamy isn’t ‘gay.’ That’s what I want.”
Maybe it’s time, Wyatt thought. To put that behind? I did have fun.
He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down into Kevin’s sleeping face. His heart
skipped a beat, and he thought, How wonderful would it be to wake up every single morning with a man like this? And only him. To only go to sleep with a man like him. To only have sex with one man.
Wyatt looked down into Kevin’s beautiful face—his heart raced now—and thought…
Kevin Owens….
Not a man like him.
Him.
Kevin.
Oh gods…. Would he ever want me?
More echoes. Kevin saying…
“I’ve wanted you forever. Since the first time I saw you sitting at that registration table my very first Men’s Festival. I was so nervous. It took everything in me to come. I almost turned around a dozen times. I almost didn’t get out of my truck, no matter how many hours I’d driven to get there. And then there was you.”
Kevin had wanted him.
I think he still does!
Kevin stirred then, and Wyatt suddenly remembered he was still half-naked, and he quickly slipped from the bed and looked about for his underwear. Luckily he actually had a pair with him as he usually went commando, but he’d discovered a brand he liked called Bearwear and of course he’d had to buy the red-and-black lumberjack pattern. He spotted them half under the table, not sure how they got there, and dashed for them, scrambled into them and…
“God, what a nice thing to wake up to.”
Wyatt jumped and nearly fell to the floor, one leg in his underwear, the other not. They dropped, still around one ankle, and he had no choice but to bend and pull them up. Get the other leg in the other hole and…
“That adorable round plump butt.”
Wyatt stiffened upright in surprise, yanking his underwear up as far as they would go, nearly wracking himself. “What?” he squeaked.
“God, Wyatt. I think you have the nicest bottom on the planet.”
He turned—face burning—and in that early morning sunlight saw the desire in Kevin’s eyes.
He wants me.
Kevin wanted him.
He stretched out a big muscular arm, held open his big hand, motioned with his fingers. “Come here,” he whispered. “Come back to bed.”