by John Inman
With dawning expressions of relief, they kissed, and just as Deeze had done a moment before with him, Wyeth tasted Deeze’s salty tears. By that alone, Wyeth knew he wasn’t dreaming.
At the same moment, his voice returned. His words were right there waiting for him. He had to break the kiss to speak them. “Yes, Deeze, I want the same thing as you. You know I do. I want it with all my heart.”
A minute passed while they listened to the birds chittering in the branches overhead. Still on their knees, still embracing, Deeze pressed his lips to Wyeth’s ear.
“Time to move on,” he crooned. “We’ve only just begun.”
Wyeth burrowed more deliciously into Deeze’s arms. “I love the Carpenters. So romantic.”
Deeze gave an uneasy laugh. “I mean we’ve only just begun the run. We still have miles to go.”
Wyeth tensed. “Are you fucking nuts? After everything you just put me through? After everything we just talked about?”
Deeze looked uncertain, like he didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Well, we still have to stay healthy, don’t we?”
Wyeth couldn’t help himself. He coughed up a chuckle. “My God, your cousin was right. You really are nuts.”
Deeze’s eyes brightened. His dimples popped into place. He slid a fingertip over Wyeth’s smile, clearly entranced. “I’m nuts about you. Does that count?”
“If you’re so nuts about me, why are you scaring me to death and running me into the ground?” Wyeth groused, hauling himself to his feet.
Deeze remained on his knees a little longer, smiling broadly. He gathered Wyeth’s legs into his arms and once again pressed his face to Wyeth’s stomach. He lifted Wyeth’s shirttail, dragged the red sweatpants down a smidgeon, and planted a kiss just above the spot where the fiery bush of ginger pubic hair began.
“Keep that up and we’ll be arrested for public indecency,” Wyeth sputtered, staring down and chewing on his lower lip, feeling the blood already surging into his nether regions.
Deeze grinned up at Wyeth. “A small price to pay for such perfection.” His eyes grew serious yet again. “Are we committed now? Are we dating only each other from this day forth?”
That was all it took for Wyeth to choke up again. He swallowed and caressed the sides of Deeze’s face. “Are you really all mine now, Deeze? I mean as far as us seeing other people? Are we really an exclusive item, you and me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Deeze’s gentle smile twisted up, and he planted another kiss on Wyeth’s abdomen. “You’re mine and I’m yours.”
“Wow,” Wyeth sighed through a shuddery breath.
Deeze tugged Wyeth’s sweatpants down a little farther and placed a gentle kiss into the very midst of that heavenly bush of ginger pubes. Then his nose twitched like it had been tickled, and he laughed. Wyeth’s waistband snapped into place as Deeze released it and bounced to his feet. Smiling broadly, he planted a second kiss on Wyeth’s nose.
He snuggled close to Wyeth’s ear again, his voice sexy and deep. “It’s true, though,” he said in a sexy whisper.
“What’s true?” Wyeth gasped, shivering under the gentle pressure of Deeze’s lips at the side of his neck.
“We really have only just begun,” Deeze whispered.
In the process of melting, Wyeth could barely utter the words. “You mean us?”
Deeze barked out a merry laugh. “No, dipshit. I mean our run. Let’s go!”
Wyeth stared in appalled amazement as Deeze took off down the trail. Trying to pull himself together after everything that had just happened, he patted his leg for Chaucer to follow. Chaucer didn’t look too happy about it, but he reluctantly obeyed.
Gazing down the path, Wyeth spotted Deeze a hundred yards ahead already. He looked so handsome and sexy, Wyeth could hardly stand it. He sucked in a breath of bracing morning air and set off in hot pursuit, his poor little rubbery legs pumping up and down like badly damaged pistons.
Fifty feet farther on, he yelled out, “I’ve changed my mind. I want to date a lazy guy instead. A fucking couch potato. A slug!” Chaucer barked in agreement while Deeze, down the trail, merely laughed.
“Asshole,” Wyeth muttered to himself, swatting away a bug.
“DID YOU have fun?”
Wyeth settled his back against Deeze’s naked chest, slid his hands over Deeze’s bronze, soapy legs, which hemmed him in on either side, and let the warm bathwater soak away his aches. He hadn’t taken an actual tub bath for ages, and he had never taken one with a man who looked like Deeze, so this was quite an experience. It would have been even more fun if he wasn’t so damned exhausted and his legs didn’t feel like overcooked noodles.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment as best he could while Deeze dug his chin into his shoulder and lazily reached around to lather up Wyeth’s chest with a bar of soap. Deeze’s slick hands roamed everywhere, and already the head of Wyeth’s cock was peeking out of the soapy water and begging for a little attention. A moment later, Deeze slipped a soap-slicked fist around it, and every muscle in Wyeth’s body went rigid at the sensation.
“My baby likes that,” Deeze crooned in his ear.
Wyeth also liked the iron cock pressed against his back beneath the water. He unpeeled his ass from the bottom of the tub and slid his dick deeper into Deeze’s fist. Trying not to gasp but failing miserably. “And to think I used to prefer showers.”
Deeze slid a thumb over the tip of Wyeth’s dick, which made Wyeth buck against him in a testosterone-charged shudder. With a smile, Deeze returned his hands to Wyeth’s chest. Slowly, Wyeth relaxed as Deeze cradled him in his arms. He laid his head back, and Deeze pressed his cheek against Wyeth’s damp hair. With one hand splayed over Wyeth’s chest, and the other on Wyeth’s stomach, ignoring Wyeth’s dick for the moment, Deeze held him close. Once again, Wyeth let the warm bathwater soak through him, relaxing tense muscles.
They were in Deeze’s apartment. Napoleon sat on the commode watching them. He seemed pretty bored, but Wyeth ignored him, too wrapped up in Deeze to care about the cat.
Wyeth dropped his head back and turned just enough to tuck his head under Deeze’s chin. Sliding down in the tub, he rested his cheek at the base of Deeze’s throat.
“Deeze?”
“Hmm?” Deeze sighed, seeming lost in the moment.
Wyeth brushed his lips against Deeze’s wet throat. “Did you mean what you said in the park? About us not dating anyone else while we’re seeing each other?”
Deeze’s arms slid more snugly around Wyeth’s chest. He pressed his mouth to Wyeth’s forehead. Wyeth wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt a smile in the kiss. “You know I meant it. Why? Are you having second thoughts?”
Wyeth considered that. “N-no. I just don’t really understand what made you say it.”
“Do you want to see other people?” Deeze asked. The smile against Wyeth’s skin seemed to have disappeared, even while the arms around his chest grew tighter. Deeze brought a soapy hand up to lift Wyeth’s chin and twisted him around so they could peer into each other’s eyes. “You’re not about to break my heart, are you, Wy?”
Deeze’s smile was back, but it was a wary one. Wyeth couldn’t bear to see it, so he kissed it to make it go away. Twisting around in the tub even more, sloshing a little water out onto the bathroom floor, which startled the cat, he positioned his head more firmly against Deeze’s chest. Slipping his arms around Deeze’s waist at the same time, he said, “Just hearing you ask that question astonishes me, Deeze. To think that someone like me could break the heart of someone like you. It’s incomprehensible to me.”
Deeze cupped a soapy hand against Wyeth’s cheek. Pulling back, he studied Wyeth’s vibrant blue eyes. “And why do you think that is, baby? Why do you think it’s so hard for you to believe you have the power to break my heart?”
Wyeth dropped his gaze. He couldn’t hold it any longer. It was too much like looking into a mirror, seeing his own insecurities staring back. And the words. Deeze’s word
s. They tore at him in a way no one’s words had ever torn at him before. And he wasn’t even sure why. That was the confusing part. “I-I don’t know.”
Deeze offered a gentle smile. “Yes, you do. Somewhere deep down inside you do. But I don’t want you to think that way anymore. It isn’t necessary. What might have once been true, at least in your eyes, isn’t true anymore. Not with me. All right? Will you trust me? When I say I want to see only you, will you at least give me the joy of believing me when I ask it?”
“The j-joy….” Wyeth stammered.
“Yes,” Deeze said. “The joy. That’s what you bring to me. Don’t you know that?”
Wyeth closed his eyes. To shut out the room. To shut out the man holding him. To shut it all out. He knew he had to say the words. They were truth. He had to admit them, not only to Deeze, but to himself as well.
“I thought it was you who brought the joy, Deeze. I’ve changed since I’ve been with you. Maybe you don’t see it, but I do. Sometimes I look in a storefront window when I walk by, and the shock of what I see stops me in my tracks. It’s a different person staring back, Deeze. A different person than who I used to be. The one I see now is happy. He’s smiling. I never walked down the street smiling before. Never. I-I just want you to know that.”
“Wy—”
Wyeth pressed a finger to Deeze’s lips. “Shush,” he said. “I want to say one more thing.”
Deeze smiled and kissed the fingertip, the open gaze in his warm eyes telling Wyeth to go ahead, to get it off his chest, to say what he wanted to say.
So Wyeth did. “I just need to tell you that no matter what happens between us now, I will always be grateful for the time we’ve had together. Nothing is permanent in life. I know that. But spending these weeks with you has been something I’ll never forget. You’ve changed me. You’ve made me a different person. And it’s a person I like a whole lot better than the person I used to be. I just want you to know that.”
Deeze cupped a hand to the nape of Wyeth’s neck, and once again they settled back against the cool porcelain tub, the warm water swelling up to Wyeth’s shoulders, the bubbles brushing his chin.
THE TWO men sat in the bathtub in silence for long minutes while Wyeth lay in Deeze’s arms, wondering if he’d said too much, and Deeze held Wyeth close, wondering if it was time for him to say even more.
But in the end, they let the cooling bath water make the decision for them. With their silence quickly turning to lust, they climbed from the tub and dried each other off. From there they moved to the bed and let their bodies take over the conversation.
What began as a soothing massage to ease the tautness in Wyeth’s calves, ended with those same strong hands exploring farther afield. Wyeth lay pliant to Deeze’s pleasure. Wherever Deeze wanted him to be, whatever Deeze wanted him to do, that was what Wyeth wanted too. They were two souls with a single need.
When Deeze entered him, with Wyeth on his back, his pale legs clamped tight to Deeze’s sides, he sought Deeze’s mouth in a kiss. They stared into each other’s eyes while Deeze’s cock delved to his deepest parts, deliciously searing through him.
At the moment of climax, when they cried out in unison, Deeze’s mouth once again sought Wyeth’s, and while their bodies bucked with orgasm inside their long breathless kiss, Deeze muttered, “Thank you, baby, thank you,” over and over again.
Later, they burrowed into each other’s arms while the sun streamed through the bedroom window and the cat snoozed on the sill.
While Deeze slept the afternoon away, childlike in Wyeth’s arms, Wyeth lay wide-awake listening to the gentle thunder of Deeze’s heart thudding softly against his ear.
When the tears came, Wyeth let them fall.
Tears of happiness were a new experience for him. He wanted to enjoy them while he could.
Chapter Ten
THE WEEKS that followed brought about a whirlwind of new emotions for Wyeth, and for Deeze too, maybe, although neither spoke of it. It was too new. Too all-encompassing. They settled into their exclusive dating arrangement without a single hitch. While Wyeth might still sit back occasionally and marvel at his good fortune, he no longer fought against accepting the fact that Deeze wanted to be with him. Deeze made that fact crystal clear at every turn.
Wyeth was so amazed by the way his life had changed since he and Deeze began to see each other that he thought it only fair to try to enjoy the same pastimes Deeze enjoyed. Since Deeze’s greatest passion (aside from teaching) was running, Wyeth pulled out all the stops and immersed himself in the sport as well. He stopped griping every time Deeze asked him to go for a jog. He even let Deeze teach him the proper warm-up stretches so he could run without doing any damage to himself.
He bought new running shoes, and yes, he wore shorts now when they jogged. After a lifetime of hating his pale skin, he had finally begun to accept the fact that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so ugly after all. If someone like Deeze could find him sexy, what the heck did Wyeth have to complain about?
On the nights when Deeze had classes at the college, Wyeth began running in secret. He and Chaucer, who still hated exercise with every fiber in his being but could be bribed into participating with a Milk-Bone and a belly rub, clomped along miles of city streets, weaving through the high-rises of downtown, seeking out new places to explore from the bay to the park and beyond. Wyeth sweated buckets even while his leg muscles hardened and his stamina grew. And while his strength and form improved, he also began to appreciate the simple joy of forward motion, the wind in his hair, the sun on his back, the pistoning of his strengthening legs, the healthy thunder of his pumping heart.
One Wednesday evening, Wyeth happened to glance in a supermarket window at his own reflection racing past. He stopped in his tracks and stood there on the street corner staring at himself. At his lean frame. At his heaving chest. At his surly dog sitting grumpily at his feet.
At the smile on his own rosy-cheeked, sweating face.
It was at that moment that Wyeth realized for the first time that he was actually beginning to like running. That night he told Deeze, who was ecstatic.
The next day Deeze upped the ante and signed them up for a marathon.
Wyeth stared at the entry form Deeze had just handed him. “You have to be joking. A marathon? You want me to jog twenty-six miles? At once?”
Deeze grinned. “It’s 26.2 miles actually. And not jog. Run. I’ll help you train for it. It’ll be fun.”
“It’ll be a disaster.”
“Ye of little faith. I’ll buy you a new outfit. Maybe we’ll wear matching clothes.”
Wyeth rolled his eyes. “Nothing gay about that.”
Deeze snuggled close. “I’m proud of you. I want people to know we’re together.”
Wyeth stopped griping on the spot. Wyeth melted when Deeze got romantic. Every single time. “Do you really?”
“You know I do. And to prove it, I won’t even try to outdistance you during the race. I’ll stick right by your pokyass side.”
One of Wyeth’s eyebrows climbed up into his hairline. “That’s assuming you really could outdistance me during the race. Maybe I’m no longer as poky as I used to be. Ever think of that?”
Deeze laughed. “Ooh. Cocky.”
Wyeth’s bravado suddenly petered out. “How many people will be racing?”
Deeze shrugged. “I don’t know. Hundreds, maybe.”
“Good. No one will notice me. I’ll be lost in the mob. Are there hills? Where is this race anyway?”
“Downtown to Point Loma, around past SeaWorld and back through Balboa Park. No hills, or almost none. Don’t worry. You can do it. It’ll be a great run.”
At the word “run,” Chaucer crawled off the couch and slouched into the bedroom, where he ducked under the bed with his tail between his legs.
“What’s wrong with him?” Deeze asked.
“You said run. He hates that word. It has replaced the word bath as his all-time favorite word to hate. Tell me he
won’t be going with us.”
“He won’t be going with us. Nothing can suck the fun out of running like your dog.”
Wyeth gave a wry smirk. “He really does, doesn’t he?”
“Speaking of Chaucer, I think it’s time he met Napoleon. I’m tired of you having to crawl out of my nice warm bed to come back here and take him for a walk, or feed him, or try to soothe his damaged ego because you left him alone all night.”
Wyeth frowned. “They’ll kill each other.”
Deeze wormed a hand down the front of Wyeth’s jeans, his mind clearly no longer focused on pets. “You don’t know that. Maybe they’ll love each other,” he said, licking his lips. “Ooh, what have I found here?”
Wyeth’s eyes closed of their own volition while Deeze’s fingertips did magical things inside his trousers. “What were we talking about?” he asked as sweat popped out on his upper lip. “I seem to have forgotten.”
Twelve seconds later his pants were flying through the air and ended up hanging on a pole lamp in the corner of the room. Simultaneously, his undershorts went sailing off in the opposite direction and came to rest in a bowl of apples on the dining room table.
“How did you get my clothes off so fast,” Wyeth asked, his legs already wobbly in anticipation.
“Trade secret,” Deeze grinned, and dropped to his knees to demonstrate a few other trade secrets. All of which were greatly appreciated and more than happily returned in kind.
“DOES NAPOLEON like dogs?”
“Only if they’ve been slathered with tuna first.”
“Really?”
“That was a joke. Actually, he’s never said.”
Wyeth coughed up a nervous grunt. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
It was early morning. Deeze had just spent the night in Wyeth’s apartment. Because of that, he was a little uneasy about Wyeth’s proposal to introduce the pets today. Napoleon had a tendency to hold a grudge, and leaving him on his own from dusk to dawn wasn’t the best way to get on his good side.