Sidecar

by Amy Lane

  “Europe, with Alvin,” Joe said, then bit into his very rare steak and closed his eyes in bliss. “Happy graduation. Oh God. That’s good.”

  “I’m sure it’s fucking manna from heaven. Why am I leaving you right before we’re about to bring a baby home?” He very thoughtfully did not add the “or lose him forever” part of that statement, because Levi was by no means out of the woods health-wise, even with four more weeks since his brother’s death and another pound under his bracelet-size belt. And even if Levi made it, their adoption was by no means guaranteed. It was iffy, up in the air, like a big gay juggling show of paperwork and affidavits and interviews with the social worker and Casey and silent judgment whenever they walked into the office with a new piece of paperwork. Casey’s identification was under question until Casey finally drove down to Bakersfield and got a new birth certificate from the hospital. He refused to call his mother. That would just fuck up the whole works—it would be like a voodoo whammy, Casey was damned positive. Casey refused to show the birth certificate to Joe too. The only name he wanted on his ID was Daniels, and the only reason he’d revisit that other name was so Levi could come home with them, where their baby belonged.

  Yeah, Casey was a wee bit possessive, why do you ask?

  Josiah finished chewing and swallowed blissfully, then sighed and opened his eyes. “Because. Alvin’s going, you guys are best friends, and we can afford it. Because after this, you’re going to have to decide on a job. Yes, I know about the job fair and how your whole concentration is in San Jose, so don’t pretend I don’t. I know about the offers from Intel, and yeah, of course I’d rather you go to Folsom because that way we can live together like married people, and my life would be real fuckin’ easy,” Joe said, not even once looking at the steak cooling on his plate, so he must have meant it. “Because if you come home, where everything in me is screaming that you belong, and we do get custody of one very small, one very needy child, you are going to be a grown-up for real and for fucking keeps, and before all that happens to you, I would like to give you two months in Europe to see the world, screw around, and maybe get a perspective that our—my—”

  “Our,” Casey said flatly, pleased that this wasn’t easy for him.

  “The house in Foresthill and the dogs and the cats are not the be-all and end-all of civilization, is that so goddamned wrong?” He took his next bite vengefully, and Casey watched with narrowed eyes as he remembered to stop and savor as he was chewing. “Yeah,” Joe said through a full mouth. “Still good.”

  “When you say ‘screw around’, you mean…?”

  Joe swallowed, but it didn’t look easy. “Whatever you want it to mean,” he said tonelessly.

  Casey started to growl. “If you touched another man—or woman—I’d—”

  “Geld me,” Joe said, grimacing. “Yeah, Casey. I’m fully aware.”

  “So you want me to…..” Casey couldn’t even say it. The thought made him sick.

  “You’re missing the point here!” Joe said a little desperately.

  “So explain it to me!”

  “The point is, I want you to see the world—without any more baggage than you can carry with you, okay? I don’t want to be the man who holds you back from anything, who keeps you from having or experiencing anything, just because—”

  “Because I love you so much I’m stupid with it?” Casey snapped. The red was starting to fade from his vision a little. He got the concept. He did. He got what Joe was saying. He did. But that didn’t mean that his visceral gut reaction wasn’t a strong desire to take any man or woman who had the potential to sleep with Joe and nail them to a wall and gut them with a bowie knife. Yeah, yeah, he got that it wasn’t Joe who was supposed to be getting some on the side, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was—“Wouldn’t you be the least bit jealous?”

  Joe glared at him and then glared at his steak. “Goddammit. I knew I should have left this conversation for dessert.”

  Casey saw that his hands were shaking on his utensils, so he sighed, still mad but not seeing red in his vision. “Put the knife and fork down, Joe, so you don’t shed any of my blood in here. Good. Well done. Now look me in the eyes and tell me it wouldn’t kill you.”

  Joe looked off to the side. “Wouldn’t kill me. I’d be too busy killing him.”

  “Who?”

  “Whoever.”

  Casey smiled and let a little more of his anger fade. “Which is why you’re telling me to go to Europe and do this, I assume.”

  Joe looked woefully at his steak. “I’m not actually telling you to go out and do it, Casey. I think your trip could be plenty complete without it. I just want you to go… go out and have fun. Don’t you see how badly I want you to have this before our world shrinks to just the baby and us?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Casey said at last, and Joe relaxed enough to take another bite. “Still good?” Something about steak—Joe couldn’t cook one to save his life, but he loved to eat them. They went out to a steakhouse about once a month, and it was always the same: Joe would about sell his soul for a properly cooked piece of rare meat.

  Joe chewed blissfully. “Oh yeah,” he sighed, and Casey turned his attention to his chicken and asparagus, feeling marginally better.

  BUT that didn’t stop him from stripping out of his good clothes when they got home that night like a rabbit on speed and diving for the end table with the lube.

  After they’d returned from New York two years before, Casey had let his curiosity drive him. Joe had professed to have a kinky streak, and Casey had needed that explained. Rather than ask the man himself—well, at first, anyway—Casey had investigated the most holy of holy hotbeds of kink: Joe’s lube drawer.

  What he’d found there had blown his mind.

  Dildos. Medium to large rubberized dildos and plugs inside the drawer—almost every one made as lifelike as possible. There were condoms (probably to make cleanup easier) and lubricant—even the kind that warmed and the kind that was good in water—and, well.

  Dildos.

  Joe liked to bottom—or, probably more accurately, Joe dreamed of bottoming.

  Casey couldn’t imagine any scenario in which someone would try to top him. He was a barrel-chested giant of a man. He wore the leather biking pants and jacket, and, well… he was everything a boy dreamed a bear-daddy leather-man would turn out to be.

  But apparently in the quiet of his own bedroom, without anyone to judge him or expect him to be something, Joe liked a good hard fuck in the ass as much as the next tush-wiggling bottom, and Casey had tried to wrap his head around that in a big way.

  It had taken him a while. The first time he’d mentioned the drawer and what was in it, Joe had made a game try at offering it to Casey, like that was what it was there for—other people.

  The second time he’d mentioned it—that summer when Alvin was back at home, visiting his parents (and apparently trying to explain that he was still straight, even though his roommates were gay, which was why he got the mother-in-law cottage with its one bedroom, bathroom, and kitchenette pretty much as soon as it was done)—Joe had looked a little uncomfortable and walked away. That was it. Just walked away, no explanation or anything.

  That had been over a year ago.

  Casey had explored that drawer intimately since then—mostly in his own ass. He knew the feel of each toy, how it was best used, the mood he had to be in for each one. Joe would be away on shift, and Casey would be home alone, and if he had no homework, he’d be up in their bedroom, stark naked, masturbating his heart out and imagining Joe was home, and what he’d really like up his ass…

  And what he thought he’d really like to do to Joe.

  And Joe had just bought him a vacation package to Europe and pretty much told him he was going whether he wanted to or not.

  Casey thought it was time for the jack-offs to come out of the box.

  So Joe walked up the stairs behind him, and Casey jumped off the bed as Joe shed his shirt, and
wrapped an arm around his waist.

  “Josiah?”

  “Yeah?” Joe grunted, and Casey breathed him in deeply. God, so male, so honest, so very Joe.

  “I want you to do me a favor.”

  “What’s that?” He half turned, an indulgent smile on his face, and Casey met his eyes squarely.

  “I want you to get into bed and close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say to, okay?”

  Joe grimaced. “I thought we were gonna, you know….” He made helpless gestures with his hands and tilted his head. “Sex?”

  Casey nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Joe, we are going to do that. I promise. Just… just let me… let me surprise you.”

  Joe frowned. “Casey, a man doesn’t always like surprises in his bed. Of all people, you should know that by now.”

  Casey tilted his head and gave an evil little smile. “Yeah, but Joe, sometimes a guy just likes to be trusted. Of all people, you should know that by now.”

  Joe sighed and shook his head, then toed off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers. He was preparing to throw his clothes in the hamper when Casey—who was pulling down the blankets and putting a towel on the bed, because neither of them were going to feel like changing sheets after what he had in mind—looked up and said, “Boxers too, big man.”

  Joe looked at him and grimaced. “With my eyes closed?”

  “I have seen you naked before, Josiah,” Casey said drolly, and Joe didn’t take the bait and blush. Instead, he curled his surprisingly red lips into a droll smile of his own, the kind with heavy eyes and a full appreciation of everything Casey’s body had to offer.

  “I’m fully aware of it, Casey. In fact, I sort of appreciate that about you.”

  Casey’s full-wattage grin flashed, and he gestured imperiously with his chin. “Boxers. Now.”

  Joe sighed and then laid himself out on the bed with his hands behind his head, gloriously, magnificently naked, his uncut cock starting to peek out of his wealth of black hair, his chest as wide and as furry as it always looked when Casey was in his arms, his hair pulled to the side so he wasn’t lying on it, and his eyes closed.

  Casey stripped so quickly he tripped getting out of his underwear and almost fell on the bed. “Here,” he said hurriedly, “keep the eyes closed. I’m going to get a bandana, okay?” Joe had a lot of them from riding the bike. He swore he’d never used them for the twinkie code, and he definitely wasn’t buying into any of the gang bullshit down in the cities; they just came in handy when you were trying to cool your face off or bind your hair back or any one of a half a dozen things that came up when you’d just ridden twenty miles on a souped-up Harley. Casey grabbed one of those—well laundered, soft, and faded navy blue—from Joe’s clean underwear drawer and stretched out over the man he’d loved for… God. Ever. Casey had loved Joe forever. And then he tied it gently around Joe’s eyes.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is for?” Joe asked, and Casey sighed in frustration.

  “Well, I’m sort of playing out a hunch, and if I’m right, you’re going to be very happy. If I’m wrong, we’re both going to be horribly embarrassed, and I figure the blindfold will help.” Casey said this while opening the lube drawer, and as he turned around, he saw that Joe’s cock—which had been looking pretty handsome at half-mast—was now fully engorged. Stiff, proud, the hood fully retracted, it flexed on Joe’s belly with what looked like Joe’s unconscious clenching of his ass.

  Casey shivered. Oh yeah. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. Joe was going to get the rewards of having a kink drawer and a boyfriend who loved him, oh yes he was!

  And Casey would get to, maybe, prove to Joe that sometimes, Casey really did know what he was talking about. That would be nice too.

  He pulled out what he wanted—the lube, of course, and the toy he most wanted to see in his lover’s body.

  It was unprepossessing, at first.

  An average size (because Casey was pretty sure Joe hadn’t been in the drawer for a while) and a bright pink (because it amused him), it was realistically shaped, with a set of pretend balls at the base and a decent curve that should hit Joe right in the sweet spot. (Casey knew it hit him there when he used it.)

  It was perfect for a guy who hadn’t ridden for a while, and for the other thing Casey had planned.

  So Casey set up, rolled the condom on the toy, and got to work.

  He wasn’t subtle in bed—never had been. He liked licking Joe’s nipples, and now that Joe was lying in the cool of their upstairs, he knew his warm mouth would give Joe the shivers, so that was where he started. Joe started to quiver on contact, and Casey chuckled.

  “Didn’t know where I was gonna start, didja?” He punctuated that with a little lick, and Joe shuddered again, so Casey licked it one more time, at the same time he moved his hand—and he knew his fingers were a little bit cold—down to his favorite place and got a good grip.

  He shuddered as Joe’s cock filled his hand, and he played the game of trying to touch his thumb to his fingers when he wrapped hard and squeezed. He succeeded—barely—and Joe groaned, a little bit of fluid leaking out the end already.

  Oh no—going too quickly! Casey scooted down and took Joe in his mouth, thinking that he felt enormous tonight, and wondering if it was the excitement of the blindfold or of being spread out to the air, or maybe that he’d heard Casey in the drawer and knew what was coming next. Something, because Casey knew this cock almost better than his own, and it was definitely more engorged than usual, and more sensitive (because Joe moaned with just the feel of his breath on the end), and Casey felt guilty for ducking under Joe’s leg and ending the blowjob so soon. His sounds were so needy! But Casey parted Joe’s thighs and then parted his cheeks and delved his tongue in between, doing it quickly enough that Joe wouldn’t guess what he was up to and the touch of his tongue on the little pucker would come as a surprise.

  Joe’s hips arched off the bed, and Casey followed him desperately, grabbing his thighs with both hands and forcing him down before licking more and harder on Joe’s least-used erogenous zone. Joe groaned, and he lowered his hands to Casey’s short-cut hair and pushed, but since he didn’t tell Casey to stop, Casey assumed that meant more instead.

  “God… God, Casey!”

  Casey pulled back and said, “You like that, huh?” He licked again while his hand reached for the toy and the lube.

  Joe rumbled, “Yes, dammit, but… oh God… my cock, dammit….” Joe reached for his cock, and Casey stopped him with a little slap.

  “Don’t you dare!” Casey said, pushing up off the bed. While he was talking, he busied his hands, pouring lube on the toy and moving it into position.

  “But, kid!” Joe sounded reassuringly young. Of course, whining did that to a man, but Casey didn’t care. He was being surprised, and he was desperate, which meant he wouldn’t protest when—

  “Oooooooooohhhhh Keeerrrrriiiiiisssstttt!” Joe’s breath exploded all in a burst, and he pushed against the head of the dildo, forcing it deep inside.

  Casey waited a moment while Joe’s body got used to the thing, and then pushed it in a little more. And a little more. And a little more. And the whole time Joe was shouting (oh God, shouting!) and begging and pleading and finally, finally, Casey felt enough glide to push that thing home.

  Joe’s whole body shook and his hips arched off the bed, and his hands clenched in the sheets, and the whole time he was muttering to himself, “Oh God… oh God… oh God… damn… oh… Casey… holy crap, that feels good… oh geez… Casey, would you fuck me with that thing?”

  Casey was happy to oblige. He started out slow, pulling it out gently until the shaped cockhead caught on its way out, and then he pushed in again while Joe writhed above him. He was being careful not to crush Casey by anchoring his legs, but every other part of his powerful body was trembling and wire-taut.

  Finally, Casey couldn’t handle anymore—he needed some satisfaction, and he wanted Joe to just totally lose his goddamned mind
. He thrust the toy in to the balls and wiggled under Joe’s leg to kneel at the side of his body, where Casey paused to lube up his own sphincter, his fingers shaking, he was so needy. God… watching Joe, wanting, at his mercy, so incredibly turned on—Casey could have come on the covers if he’d ground a little harder, and he so wasn’t wasting that erection or Joe’s frenzy on another round of laundry!

  He rose up and swung his leg over Joe’s hips, straddling him, and then grasped Joe’s hard, weeping cock in his hand and lowered himself on top of it. Now he wanted to cry, it felt so good, and Joe? Joe went completely still.

  “Kid?” he asked, his voice gruff and pleading.

  “Yeah, Joe?”

  “Can I grab you and fuck you now?

  “’Til I’m blind,” Casey said cheerfully, and Joe dug his fingers into Casey’s thighs and held him just high enough for Joe to piston his hips upward in a frenzied rabbit fuck that had Casey howling, throwing his weight a little forward and holding himself on the bed so Joe could really cock his hips and hammer him.

  “Oh God, Joe… keep it up… oh God… don’t stop… don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, oh fuck don’t ever stop fucking me!” And his voice must have done it, or the first contraction of his orgasm. Casey’s entire body froze in a clench around that giant thing in his ass, and he grabbed his cock hard and shot across Joe’s chest, and again and again. For his part, Joe held on tight and buried himself in Casey’s body, howling, coming, hot and hard, until Casey could feel it sliding out of his body and lubricating Joe’s still-erect cock some more as he fucked through both their orgasms, until Casey was slumped on Joe’s chest in a puddle of his own come. His hips could barely twitch anymore, he was so incredibly replete.

  “So,” Casey panted as Joe’s hands came up and rested comfortingly on his shoulders, “do you trust me now?” He reached up and pulled off the bandana so he could see those wonderful, placid, warm brown eyes while they had this conversation.