by J. D. Walker
I simply nodded and went back to ogling Keanu Reeves as he kicked ass.
After the movie, Beebub drove us toward home. “Want to have a late snack at the diner?” he asked.
I yawned. “I’m really tired, man. I have to be at the store in about five hours to get ready for the day. Thanks, though.”
“Why do you work so hard?” he asked as we continued on to my house. “It’s like that’s all you ever do. Even with my busy schedule, I still make the time to have fun, go out.”
“I guess I fell into it. Things were rough for a long time, trying to make ends meet, taking care of my dad, working long hours. It’s not as bad as it used to be, yes, but I can’t let up. Anything could happen and I don’t have anyone else to look out for me, even though Marlene tries her best.”
“But I’m here now, Gabe. I left you behind, which I will always regret, but I want to be there for you, when you need it. Give you a shoulder you can lean on, a friend to talk to. A lover, too, maybe?” He pulled into my driveway and turned off the truck. “I’m serious about us, and I hope to make you believe that someday.”
His kiss, when he leaned in and touched my lips, was warm and firm, and I barely held myself back from sucking his tongue down my throat. His words, his affirmations, were intoxicating, and I wanted to believe them, so badly.
For now, I pulled away and got out of the truck. “Thanks for the movie, Beebub.”
I walked into my house and closed the door, leaning against it and trying to calm myself as I listened to him head down the road to Marlene’s house. If this was what all our dates were going to be like, I might spontaneously combust.
* * * *
“What was it like, being in college in a big city after living in a small town?” I asked as we ate at the diner a couple of weeks later. It was late in the evening and Beebub had just got back from a job.
“It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I was a kid in a candy store. All the flavors I wanted to try were up for grabs, and nothing was holding me back. Even the bigots gave me a wide berth. It helped to be as big as I am.”
“I bet,” I said, and could just imagine the impression he’d made on those clueless bastards.
“I went a little crazy that first year, but eventually calmed down. Sure, I wanted to fuck everyone, but I wanted my degree, too, and Marlene would have killed me if I had done otherwise.” He ate some French fries and asked, “Did you enjoy your first year of school, before you had to come back home?”
“It was okay. I was focused on the books and didn’t do much else. I was definitely not jock material, and I wasn’t chasing tail like you, and then, it didn’t matter because Dad got sick.”
“Yeah.” He finished his milkshake and leaned back against the cushion in the booth. “When was the last time you took a holiday, not just a couple days off work?”
I furrowed my brow. “Uh, never? I own the business. When do you think that would happen? I can’t afford to do that. People depend on me; their livelihood is in my hands. I take that seriously.”
“You need an assistant manager or something. You continue like this, you’ll work yourself to death.”
“Who asked you?” I snapped, thoroughly ruining the mood. Though he’d started it.
“Hey, it was just a suggestion. Simmer down, Gabby.”
I picked up the ketchup bottle and squirted some on his expensive Oxford-style shirt. “Leave it alone, Lucy.”
He squeaked in indignation and squirted me back. And it was on. By the time we stopped, we were laughing raucously, and there was no ketchup or mustard left, since we both wore the condiments on our clothing. And of course, everyone had witnessed the debacle. It was high school all over again.
I apologized sheepishly to Marybelle, the diner’s owner, and left a really huge tip, with Beebub doing the same. She just shook her head in resignation at the two town hooligans, back together again.
We drove home with messy shirts, grinning like idiots.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Beebub said as he pulled up in front of my house.
“You provoked me. Blame yourself.”
I got out of the truck, and he followed me inside to the little laundry room across from the guest bathroom.
“Give me your shirt. I’ll soak it. Do you have a spare with you?”
“Yeah, in my truck.” He stripped down to bare skin, save for his pants, and I had to look away before I did something stupid like lick his nipples.
I cleared my throat and took the stained garment from him. “Go get that other shirt and I’ll take care of this.”
I busied myself with gathering soap powder and such while Beebub left the room. When he did, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. He had always been dangerous to my peace of mind, but dear God, had he grown up fine.
After removing my own shirt, I added it to his and left them in the huge tub to soak for a bit. Before I could move away, however, I felt Beebub standing behind me.
His skin was still bare and slightly sweaty against my own, he was that close, and I held my breath. I felt puffs of air against my ear when he said, “Did you like what you saw?”
“I’d have to be dead not to,” I admitted.
He placed a hand on either side of me on the edge of the tub and boxed me in, his semi-hard cock pressed tight against my butt. “You want to do something about it?”
“Maybe,” I whispered, pushing back against him, and it was the best thing I’d ever felt, in all my years of intimacy. It was telling that the fumbling we’d done way back when still ranked highest on my list of sexual encounters, and now, there was this.
Beebub kept rubbing his dick against my ass, and stuck one of his hands down the front of my loose pants to palm my hard cock. I couldn’t help the moan that leaked out of me, along with the sticky fluid that seeped from the tip of my penis.
My head dropped back against his shoulder, his brawn against my own slender frame the stuff of my fantasies come to life. With his free hand, he cupped the back of my head to turn me toward him for a hot kiss.
I moved like a man possessed, pumping in and out of his fist until I blew, groaning my release into his mouth as he wrung every bit of juice out of me.
When I had nothing left to give, Beebub moved me to the washing machine and bent me over it, yanking down my pants and briefs to bare my ass. I heard him fumbling behind me, the tear of plastic and sounds of squirting loud in my ear before I felt a finger in my hole.
I didn’t care that it burned, that he was a little rough, that he pegged my button mercilessly, making my cock rise again. I simply wanted more.
“Lucy, please,” I begged, turning my head so I could catch his gaze.
The intense focus on his face told me I was about to get the reaming of my life. Hallelujah. When he was finally ready, Beebub pushed in slowly, and didn’t stop until he bottomed out. The fullness was perfect and I wanted to cry at the years we’d been apart, and all we’d gone through away from each other. But he was here now, and I would hold onto that.
“Fuck me, Lucy,” I said. “Make me forget everything but you.”
“Anything for you, Gabby.”
Five minutes later, I was sore and wishing for a reprieve, but Beebub didn’t let up. Every time I was about to come, he’d slow things down again, soothe me, rub my back, say sweet things. And then he’d build it back up. It drove me crazy. And it was so good.
Finally, he said, “Come, baby,” and I did, all over the front of the washing machine, my cries echoing in the small room, with Beebub’s climax not that far behind mine.
We crumpled into a heap on the stone floor, sweaty, sated, and way too old to be fucking on top of unyielding surfaces.
“The next time we do this, there needs to be something soft beneath us,” I said.
* * * *
And there was. Kind of. Grass was soft, wasn’t it? Beebub had wanted to go on a picnic in the middle of the damn week. While I was working.
He
just walked into the store, dragged me into a seriously hot kiss over the counter by the register, then announced to all and sundry that he was taking me out for a date that afternoon and they would have to do without me for a few hours. I had no choice in the matter. I was too embarrassed—and hard, to be honest—to demur.
Minutes later, Beebub’s dick was up my ass, me on my hands and knees, on a blanket and facing a tree as he fucked me quick and dirty. I gave it back to him just as filthy half an hour later, and the fact that there were grass stains on our clothing and leaves in our hair didn’t seem to faze either of us one bit.
I went back to work with a hitch in my stride and sticks in my hair, and my employees snickered as I walked by. I told them they would be fired if they said one word. One. Word.
Okay, I could admit we were more than compatible sexually, but it wasn’t just that. While Beebub was still arrogant and self-centered and a general pain in the ass, I had seen another side of him, too, when he volunteered with me on projects for displaced youth, or helped with activities around town.
We went on like this for months, getting closer to each other, ignoring the self-satisfied smirks that Marlene sent our way, the stink-eye some of the locals gave us when we got up to adult versions of our childhood antics and realized that after all this time we were somehow better together.
And then Thanksgiving Day arrived, and after dinner and the dishes and Marlene taking a nap, we went for a walk to sit on our favorite tree stump.
Beebub took my hand in his and settled both on his leg. “I bought that house, finally,” he began, his thumb rubbing my knuckles in an almost hypnotic motion.
“Really? I thought the owners were dithering about it, what with you being gay and a pervert.”
“They were, but I gave them an offer they couldn’t refuse.” The way he smiled said he’d done something devious.
“Do I want to know what you did?”
“Probably not. Let’s just say it might have to do with some gossip about the wife and her trips to a certain gay bar a few towns over. I’ve seen her there, but I made sure she never saw me.”
I gasped. “Seriously?”
“She made sure to convince the hubby that moving was a much better option than staying in a town where the degenerates were taking root.”
I shook my head. “Good riddance.”
“Agreed. So, move in with me?”
“Say what now?” I sputtered, trying to catch up.
“I could move in with you, if you prefer. But I’d still keep that other house. I need my own space, but I want to be near Marlene, one way or another.”
I looked at him. “Are you sure about this? I know we’ve been having fun and such, but this is a big step and you’ve been through—”
He kissed me. “I know what I want. Everything that’s happened to me has led me back to you. To us. I want you in my life, Gabe. I love you, and that’s never changed. I was just too scared and young and stupid to say it before now.”
When I could finally speak, I said, “So you’re saying, Marlene was right? If you ever tell her that, we’ll never live it down. She’s smug enough as it is, and I’m sure Dad is chuckling somewhere up above, too.”
“Probably. Is that a yes?”
I stared into brown eyes that had always seen my soul, and smiled. “Yes, I’ll live with you, wherever you want. I love you, too. Of that, you can be certain.”
“Never doubted it for a minute.”
* * * *
A year later
“Where the hell is the ring?” I was searching the kitchen high and low and couldn’t find it. I’d bought it a few months before, thinking I’d propose to Beebub on the anniversary of our moving into his house, and now I couldn’t find the damn thing.
I stalked into the living room where my boyfriend was watching some reality television show that was loud and annoying, as was he. I stepped over his legs, which he’d propped on the table, and picked up cushions, puzzle boxes, and still, nothing.
When I heard Beebub snickering a minute later, I turned to face him. “What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“It’s the look on your face.” He dragged me into his lap. “Calm down, Gabby. I found the ring a week ago and hid it from you because I wanted to propose first.” And he took a ring from his shirt pocket and handed it to me, then removed the purple box that had my ring in it from under a sofa cushion.
“You devious little—”
“The answer’s yes, by the way. How about you?”
I smacked him on the forehead and shut him up with a kiss, which was answer enough.
THE END
ABOUT J.D. WALKER
J.D. Walker likes to keep her stories short and sweet, with the occasional novel or novella. A multi-published author, she is also a musician, artist, language enthusiast (German and Spanish), and lover of all things knit and crochet.
For more information, visit lifebyjo.com/jdwalker.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!