Art House

by Charley Descoteaux

  Garrett just stood, looking up at Chase with tears slowly sliding down his cheeks, obviously unable to speak.

  Bran had just opened his mouth to prompt Garrett when he spoke.

  “Chase….” He sniffed and tried to smile. “Fuck. I can’t remember the vows I wrote.”

  Jess slid to the edge of her seat when Garrett let one hand drop to his side, and she pressed a small piece of paper against the palm he turned in her direction.

  “Chase, you’re—” Garrett smiled and let the page drop to the floor. “I love you more than everything else put together. I promise to stick by you—love, honor, and cherish, and more. I’ll make sure you don’t forget to eat, and I’ll talk louder than all your doubts, and do everything—that’s a sincere everything—I can to make you as happy as you make me every day. I’m so lucky to have you and promise never to forget that.”

  After a dramatic pause, Bran said, “It’s my honor and privilege to pronounce you legally married.”

  Chase and Garrett stood, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes, waiting. Everyone in the room was still and quiet. Finally Bran cleared his throat softly, as if reminding himself.

  “You may kiss the groom.”

  Chase’s cheeks had started to ache from smiling, but that didn’t put a damper on his kiss. He took Garrett’s face in his hands, and when their lips touched, Chase’s eyes filled with tears. They had just begun to spill down his face when someone on the couches cleared their throat dramatically. Everyone applauded, and still Chase kissed his man. Husband. He was vaguely aware of people talking around him, but he had no desire to release Garrett anytime soon.

  GARRETT HAD known Nathan would give them the perfect day. He’d planned the reception more traditionally than the ceremony, with the requisite photo ops and a few of the standard practices—but without the boutonniere-toss. The only family members left unmarried were Nathan’s brother Evan—who has to be the youngest person in the room—and Jess—who is here with Rik and that wouldn’t be funny at all—so it wouldn’t have been fair. Neither of them deserved to be pelted with flowers like Kyle had been, or embarrassed in front of their respective dates.

  Fortunately Nathan had planned the music to give Chase a chance to hold Garrett in his arms as they danced. He kissed Garrett’s ear, careful to avoid his hot spot. For now.

  “Did you mean it when you said you’d do everything?”

  Garrett pressed closer and slid both hands up the lapels of Chase’s jacket, a shiver tingling at the base of his spine. “I did. I do. Damn, you look almost as fine in a tux as you do out of one.” He hooked both hands behind Chase’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

  When Eric—finally—called everyone into the dining room, Rik hung back. Garrett watched Jess’s reaction and was almost out of view when Rik dropped to one knee. He backtracked a few steps, dragging Chase along with him, in time to hear Rik royally screwing up.

  “Jess, I know it hasn’t been that long, but I love you. I don’t want to live without you any longer. Please say you’ll marry me.”

  For a few seconds Garrett was sure she would say yes, and for another few seconds he thought Rik might get his heart broken.

  “Baby, I love you too. But we’re not doing that. We’ve only known each other for three months. Ask me again in a year.” She bent at the waist, her gorgeous maroon dress hugging her curves and pooling across the pointy toes of both of their shoes, her long straight hair swinging over her left shoulder and brushing his shoulder and knee. Jess held Rik’s new little hipster beard in the palms of her hands and used her thumbs to brush his mustache away from his lips. When her mouth was barely inches from his, she said, “If you ask me next year, I’ll say yes.”

  AFTER A lovely dinner, too much cake and champagne, and more dancing in which Chase got to hold Garrett in his arms for hours, refusing to let anyone cut in on even one dance, they went upstairs to their room. They dropped their formalwear onto the daybed and fell, laughing, onto the bed. The champagne kept them from doing much more than making out and clumsy hand jobs, but both got their happy ending before falling asleep.

  Chase woke up in the dark room and, for a short moment, wondered whether he’d even come before falling asleep. He didn’t feel sticky, but maybe Garrett had cleaned them up—Not likely. He was as trashed as me and probably still feels a little drunk too.

  Garrett cut off his musings with a passionate but slightly sloppy kiss, and they spent a long time making out before either spoke. Garrett broke the silence, his body stretched out on top of Chase, lips pressed against Chase’s neck. “Let’s do it now.”

  “Do what?”

  “You know….”

  Chase shivered. “You mean…. Right now?”

  “Yeah.” The house was quiet, the only sound the breaking of the waves on the beach. Chase wondered what time it was, but then Garrett sat up and captured every last brain cell. He looked gorgeous in the moonlight streaming between the curtains. “Is there a good place around here?”

  “Anyplace is good, if you really want to fuck—”

  “Hey. I heard that.” Garrett slowly ran his hands over Chase’s chest and stomach. “What do you mean, if I really want to fuck? You’re not talking about doing it outside….”

  “Well….” Come on, this is the time. “We don’t fuck as much as we used to.”

  Garrett froze—he even seemed to be holding his breath.

  “I just… well, is there a reason? It’s okay if there is, I’d just like to know what it is. Maybe this is something we should talk about.”

  “Um…other things are fun too.”

  Did he just wince? “Yeah….”

  “That’s part of the reason.” Garrett swayed the slightest bit and Chase rested both hands on his waist to steady him. He looked down for a moment, took a slow deep breath, and then met Chase’s gaze. “And, um… well, I guess I started to feel like I owed it to you to… you know, switch things up.”

  “Shocked” doesn’t begin to cover this. Chase took a moment to consider his response, because laughing would not have been appropriate, but there probably wasn’t anything sex-related that he had less desire to do. The fact that he still felt a little tipsy from the reception wasn’t helping, but if Garrett read any of that in his expression he didn’t let on. “Did I say something to make you think I wanted that?”

  “Not exactly….”

  “Because I don’t.” Chase realized his hands had tightened around Garrett’s waist and deliberately loosened his grip—if he also slipped in a caress or two to sweeten things up a bit, that was understandable. “I mean, I love you, but I’ve never had the urge to fuck you. Or anyone.”

  “Never?” Garrett frowned and shook his head, as though the idea puzzled him.

  “Never.” Chase gave Garrett a little squeeze and then ran his palms up his flat stomach and across his slender chest. “So don’t worry about it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Garrett tilted his head to the side and after a few seconds he said, “So, that means we can fuck outside right now. Right?”

  Even slightly drunk, the prospect of playing out one of his fantasies brought every cell in Chase’s body to life. “If you’re sure. We don’t have—”

  Garrett groaned, but Chase heard a smile too. The room wasn’t completely dark, thanks to the lights in the backyard, so Chase saw the tiniest bit of that smile. “Don’t say it. Be honest. Do you want to go outside and fuck right now, or not?”

  “When you put it that way….” Chase sat up and wrapped his arms around Garrett’s back, pulling him close. “It might be cold.”

  “I’m still game.”

  Chase sat back and tried for a look at Garrett’s face. He wanted to—more than he could say—but not if Garrett wasn’t completely on board. The mischief on his husband’s face and the way he wriggled in his lap chased away any lingering doubt. “Let’s go, then.”

  They practically leaped out of bed and traded kisses and quiet laughter as they pulled the
ir clothes on. Garrett moved toward the main door, but Chase took his hand and steered them out the back way. His heart raced as they crept across the balcony and down the stairs. He wanted to howl at the moon as they ran across the backyard hand in hand.

  Chase slowed to a walk when they reached the dock and hummed in satisfaction when the boathouse door was unlocked.

  “Hey.” Garrett stopped in the doorway. He still held Chase’s hand, so they both stopped. “I thought you wanted to do it outside.”

  “Just a second.” Chase started to turn away but kissed Garrett quick before releasing his hand. He returned a few seconds later with a short wooden stool, its seat worn smooth from years of use, and showed it to Garrett.

  “So we’re not going to do it on the ground, then?”

  Chase laughed softly at the relief in his voice. “No. It’s too cold, and I don’t want you to hurt your knees.”

  After another, longer kiss, Garrett grabbed the front of Chase’s jacket and pulled him out of the boathouse door. “Which way?”

  “You choose: warmer, or less chance of discovery?”

  Garrett leaned against him, still gripping two handfuls of Chase’s jacket, his breathing a little ragged. Finally he rested his forehead against Chase’s shoulder and laughed. “The second one.”

  “Then we’re going this way.” Chase took a few steps backward, toward the ocean side of the boathouse. He listened to Garrett take a deep breath and blow it slowly out his mouth, and the next thing he knew he was being propelled around the corner of the building. Garrett pushed him against the wall, both hands spread across his chest, and Chase sighed as he dropped the stool.

  “You’ve thought about this a lot—where to do it outside here.”

  “Yeah. Better out here than in the city. I—”

  Garrett gripped Chase’s shoulders and pushed him harder against the wall, and Chase’s voice trailed off into a soft moan.

  “I’ve thought about it too.” Garrett leaned his body against Chase’s, chest to chest, and slid one hand down his side. He gripped Chase’s dick through his jeans as he stretched to put his lips near Chase’s ear. “About fucking you with the waves pounding so loud nobody can hear when I make you scream.”

  Chase’s legs wobbled, and he leaned heavier against the wall. Garrett kissed his neck as he opened his fly and freed his cock. After a few roughly exquisite strokes, Chase realized his eyes had fallen closed. Surprised, Chase opened them. He couldn’t see much—the glow from Buchanan House barely made it around the corner of the boathouse—but the pounding of the surf was near enough to feel in the air. When he tipped his head up, a smattering of stars shone in the black velvet sky. The wind buffeted his face, tossing random mist at him, and Chase might have actually howled at the beautiful moon if Garrett hadn’t groaned.

  He collapsed against Chase and groaned again. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Oh.” Chase tightened his arms around Garrett. “It’s okay—”

  “No. I mean, I want to, but it’s too cold and I can’t.”

  Garrett was shivering, and when Chase moved his leg, he didn’t feel any wood in Garrett’s pants.

  “We could go to—”

  “I didn’t say we’re done here.” Garrett’s leg moved, and the sound of wood scraping across wood said he’d kicked the stool. He slid down Chase’s body, and just as Chase felt the full effect of the wind against his chest, Garrett’s warm mouth slid onto his cock.

  Chase wouldn’t have been surprised if he couldn’t come, standing out there as he was with the wind pummeling him, shivering in the cold, but Garrett knew just what to do, how to touch him, and he did. Chase came howling, and it was so satisfying he couldn’t help adding a few notes of laughter. The whole experience exceeded his most colorful expectations. To be blown and windblown at once while watching the stars twinkle—by Garrett, the love of his life—was the closest he’d ever come to being completely and transcendently happy, to having a moment he could live in forever.

  When he came, the wind caught his cries and Garrett caught his body, quickly tucking him away and guiding him to sit on the stool. Garrett straddled his lap, and Chase wrapped his arms around him and held on as tightly as he could with his bones still rubbery from pleasure.

  “Next time will be better. I’ll—”

  Chase buried his face in Garrett’s hair, as much as he could with it whipping in the wind, and kissed his ear. “You were perfect. You’re amazing, Gare.”

  “We’re amazing together.” Garrett shivered, and Chase rubbed his back.

  “Next time it’ll be warmer.”

  Garrett laughed and nuzzled Chase’s neck. “You know a place?”

  “I know the perfect place.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect. But I will hold you to warmer.”

  “Anything for you, Mr. Holland-Frisch.”

  Garrett sighed and relaxed in Chase’s arms. “I love you, Mr. Holland-Frisch.”

  After another long moment, Chase stood and brought Garrett with him. They returned the stool to the boathouse and retraced their path back to room eight and eventually warmed up enough to do the thing Chase liked best.

  More from Charley Descoteaux

  Buchanan House: Book One

  Eric Allen, thirty-three-year-old line cook, moved in with his grandmother, Jewell, after a disastrous coming-out when he was in middle school. She raised him, and he cared for her when she fell ill. When Jewell died, she left everything to Eric—angering his parents and older brother. The inheritance isn’t much, but Eric and his bestie, Nathan, pool their money and buy an abandoned hotel on an isolated stretch of the Central Oregon Coast. The hotel isn’t far from Lincoln City—a town with its own Pride Festival and named for a president—so they christen it Buchanan House after James Buchanan, the “confirmed bachelor” president with the close male friend.

  Eric and Nathan need a handyman to help them turn Buchanan House into the gay resort of their dreams. Eric finds Tim Tate in the local listings, and over the months leading to opening weekend, Tim reveals himself as a skilled carpenter with many hidden talents. Eric falls hard for Tim, but before he can see a future with the gorgeous handyman, he has to get over twenty years of being bullied and shamed by his birth family. It would be much easier if Eric’s brother Zach wasn’t trying to grab part of the inheritance or ruin opening weekend.

  Buchanan House: Book Two

  Overworked cubicle jockey Adam Byron wants to attend Oregon Coast Pride in style but the price of a room at Buchanan House, a popular gay retreat on the central coast, is beyond his budget. So he won’t miss out, he advertises online for someone to share expenses. Corporate drone Silas Grant responds to Adam’s ad, and the two get to know each other via texts before meeting at the coast. They agree on a no-pressure roommate arrangement, yet once they meet face-to-face, their attraction is undeniable. Desire might simmer well beyond Pride weekend, no matter how hard Adam and Silas try to live up to their noncommitment pact.

  Buchanan House: Book Three

  Pride weekend is over, but for Nathan Lucas, the summer is just heating up. He appears to have it all. He’s tall and blond, ripped and handsome, and half owner of Buchanan House, a successful gay retreat on Oregon’s beautiful central coast. But his joie de vivre hides a fear of abandonment. When he was twelve his mother had triplets, and instead of the cherished only child, Nathan became a scapegoat for his exhausted parents, and he has never truly dealt with that pain.

  Portland chef Paulie Nesbitt is head over heels in love with Nathan. They’ve been drinking buddies with benefits for years, while Paulie has not-so-secretly yearned for more. Paulie’s extra pounds and self-doubt have kept him from acting on his feelings. Their friends know they would make the perfect couple, but Nathan and Paulie will have to let go of past insecurities if they want a future together.

  Buchanan House: Book Four

  Kyle Shimoda is an asshole magnet, has been for as long as he can remember. At forty-seven, he doesn’
t see much chance for improving his luck in love. His friends who run Buchanan House, a gay retreat on the central Oregon coast, know he wants to find “someone nice” to settle down with, and they set him up with Officer Brandon Smith. Kyle has a turbulent history with law enforcement, but he can’t deny his attraction to the buff cop.

  Brandon has been a police officer in Lincoln City almost since the day he graduated from high school over thirty years ago. He’s cultivated the facade of a serious, disciplined law enforcement officer, but beneath his overdeveloped chest beats the soft heart of a drama queen. A cancer scare shifts Bran’s focus from finding a serious relationship to having as much sex as he can—putting his goals squarely at odds with Kyle’s. If he can’t find the courage to be honest about his feelings for Kyle, the happiness they’ve both been searching for could slip through their fingers.

  Buchanan House: Book Five

  Ryan Orchard moved from small-town Idaho to Portland almost two years ago and still feels like a hick. When Paulie Nesbitt dumped him, he wasn’t even surprised. Despite losing twenty-five pounds since then, Ryan’s confidence is nonexistent, and his life has stalled. Not only is he convinced the career he wants is beyond his reach, he’s given up on relationships. A new job at a familiar restaurant—and his gorgeous coworker—could be just what Ryan needs to believe in himself again.

  Glenn Hernandez might be the only nineteen-year-old in Portland who dreads his days off. Between his horrible housing situation and the ever-present temptation to crawl back into the bottle, Glenn prefers to keep busy. He volunteers at the Elliott Foundation House, a homeless shelter helping LGBTQ former sex workers. As an alum of the shelter himself, Glenn finds it hard to leave his past behind. But when the new server at the trendy restaurant where he works catches Glenn’s eye and works his way into his heart, Glenn finally has a reason to start a new life.