The Mary's Boys Collection

by Brandon Witt

  The quiet hum of conversation had begun to lull Ryan into a nearly meditative state. Unlike some, the family wasn’t one to fall into the dramatics of weeping and wailing, not that Ryan had expected them to.

  The sound of the front door of the funeral home opening and closing broke Ryan’s reverie. He glanced over, expecting to see the owner coming to check on something. Ryan stiffened at the sight of the man who walked in.

  It had probably been eight years since he’d seen Steven Conley. Not since Ryan, at nineteen, had visited Topher on a break from college.

  Steven glanced in the office as he crossed the foyer. Their eyes met, and he looked away. No recognition at all.

  From down the hall, the bathroom door opened, and Pat emerged, still looking flawless in her black pantsuit. Knowing her like he did, Ryan was certain she’d just touched up her makeup.

  “Steven!”

  Steven halted and looked at Pat as she hurried toward him.

  “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

  “I changed my mind. I felt guilty as shit, trying to focus on work at Mary’s while you’re having to deal with all this on your own.”

  “I’m not on my own. You know everyone else is here. They understand.”

  “Well, I’m—”

  Ryan quietly shut the office door, cutting them off. Part of him wanted to listen. If nothing else, just to hear Steven’s gravelly voice. He’d always loved that sound, ever since he was a kid. But not like this. He was intruding. And he for sure shouldn’t be lusting after his best friend’s uncle while the man was grieving his father.

  Steven had been the final motive for Ryan asking to be the one to cover Mr. Conley’s wake. Pat and Topher had been the main reasons, truly, but the draw of seeing Steven again had been enough to give Ryan a moment’s hesitation before he’d requested. Part of him had hoped he’d see Steven and not feel what he’d always felt for the man. That Steven would’ve aged badly or Ryan would finally realize it had been nothing more than teenaged fantasies and wet dreams.

  Judging from his increased heartbeat and stiffened erection, apparently not.

  What the hell was wrong with him? Thinking about getting Steven naked at a time like this?

  People left slowly. Ryan stayed in the office until they were nearly all gone. Once he saw Steven leave, he felt safe enough to reemerge.

  Within another twenty minutes, Pat and her children were getting ready to leave. He hugged Pat and Topher, promising he’d be the one with them at the funeral in a couple of days.

  Then he was alone.

  He’d only had two other open-casket wakes, but he’d learned quickly that the first order of business was to close the casket. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling to shut down the funeral home, then walk back into the sanctuary only to forget there was a dead body glistening in the dim light. He didn’t plan on ever hearing himself make the startled squeal of a scream again.

  Once Mr. Conley was securely back in the safety of his confines, Ryan went about picking up. Not that there was much to do. The family had been clean and respectful, of course.

  He’d finished refreshing the bathrooms and paused outside the sanctuary doors. He saved putting the casket back into the cold room for last. Like closing the casket, he should do it first thing, but he had to work himself up to it. He hated going down there, knowing he was surrounded by dead bodies, even if they were all locked up out of sight. Stupid or not, refusing to wait for the elevator, he always ran back up the stairs like the hounds of hell were chasing him. Or zombies. He watched way too much of The Walking Dead.

  Still feeling foolish for needing to steady himself, Ryan walked into the sanctuary and let out a yelp of fear. This time higher and more scream-like than the time he’d forgotten about the open casket.

  The figure standing in front of the reopened casket flinched and turned with a cry of his own. His gaze landed on Ryan. “Holy fuck, dude. You scared the shit outta me.”

  Ryan paused between gasps, taking a second to make sure the figure was an actual human and not Mr. Conley come back to life. It wasn’t stumbling toward him or making brain-craving noises, so he figured he was good. “Scare you? You try walking in and finding someone with a dead—” His words fell away as his synapses finally fired once more. Steven Conley. “I… ah….”

  The man laughed suddenly. A soft chuckle at first, then giving way to loud, uncontrolled laughter that sounded a touch unhinged. “Fuck, man, I wish you could’ve seen your face. Fucking priceless.” Still laughing, Steven wiped at his eyes. “God, I needed that.”

  Ryan took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was still here. Obviously.” A nervous laugh of his own escaped. “I can give you more time.”

  Steven glanced back at the casket, then at Ryan. “No, I’m good. Said all I needed to say to the bastard.”

  Ryan flinched.

  “Sorry. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead. Whatever.” Steven turned away, facing the coffin. He mumbled something Ryan couldn’t hear, then shut the lid and latched it. He patted the coffin, harder than necessary, before looking back at Ryan. “Get through the funeral and then this thing is done. Finally.” He strode down the aisle, straightening his broad shoulders as he walked. “Sorry again. Wasn’t trying to scare ya.”

  Ryan’s heartbeat didn’t slow from the adrenaline rush as Steven walked closer; it simply altered from one type of fear to another. “It’s… uhm… okay.”

  Steven paused as he came up beside Ryan. His light blue eyes rose and met Ryan’s gaze.

  Ryan waited for recognition. Nothing. No spark or dawning light. Then Ryan realized he was staring.

  He started to look away, but then he realized something else. Steven was staring too.

  And then he didn’t try to look away, he just stared back, feeling heat build between them. Tried to decide if what he felt was actually happening or if he was imagining it.

  The moment probably only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like minutes. Long, long minutes. Minutes that went from staring into Steven’s eyes to imagining his lips on Ryan’s, to picturing him naked and sweating above him. Yeah, he was delusional.

  Steven’s voice was so low, even in the silence it was barely audible. “Wanna get outta here?”

  Holy shit. Ryan had fantasized about this moment during a million masturbation fantasies. And here it was. Happening in real life.

  He started to nod, then felt the presence of the dead nearby. He glanced at the coffin, finally breaking eye contact, and gave a little laugh. “Did you just ask me if I wanted to get out of here, like we’re in a bar or something?”

  Steven also turned toward the coffin, stared at it for several long moments, then looked back at Ryan. His gaze was still heated, but there was hardness that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. I did. You’re hot. I’m hot. You’re interested, I can tell. I’m interested.” He motioned toward the casket. “I’m done worrying about what that fucker thinks. If you’re willing, I’ll go down on you right here, right now.”

  Ryan’s brain short-circuited again. How could something be the answer to all his fantasies while being the furthest thing from them? “Uhm, yeah. I’m interested. And I don’t think there’s any other place in the world I’d turn that offer down but here. I can’t here. Maybe go to your place? Or mine?”

  Disappointment flitted across Steven’s face, but then it was replaced by lust again. “Yeah. Come on.” Without waiting, Steven walked out of the sanctuary toward the front doors at the other end of the vestibule.

  Hesitating only a second, Ryan followed. He needed to get the casket to the cold room, but whatever. He’d text the owner on his way over to Steven’s and say he had an emergency. So what if he got in trouble or fired. He wasn’t passing this chance up.

  Ryan paused long enough to at least lock the front doors before following Steven into the parking lot.

  Steven grabbed his hand and pulled him toward a massive pickup truck. Then he pushed Ryan’s
back against the driver’s side door. “I don’t wanna wait until after the drive home.” He tilted his head up as he leaned into Ryan’s body.

  Though Steven was broader and more muscled, he was a few inches shorter than Ryan. Even so, Ryan felt engulfed by the man—his size, his strength, the lust and need pouring off him.

  Steven pushed his lips to Ryan’s. It was soft and tender for the briefest of moments and then crushing. All tongue, teeth, beard. Scruff, heat, male. He pulled his lips away but kept his forehead pressed to Ryan’s, their eyes meeting in the soft moonlight. “Please.”

  Ryan didn’t think. Didn’t need to. He just nodded and issued a noise he’d never heard himself make before. A desperate, keening sound.

  Steven let loose a growl of his own and then stepped back to tear through the necessities.

  Before Ryan could prepare himself to really understand that he was finally getting his wish, the truck was unlocked, door flung open, and he was on his back in the seat of the extended cab. Without waiting for more permission, Steven deftly undid Ryan’s slacks and pulled them over his hips. Ryan tilted upward making it easier. His pants and underwear gone, Ryan started to scoot back into the truck, but Steven growled again, grabbed his thighs, and engulfed Ryan’s erection.

  Ryan cried out again, in shock and pleasure at the wet heat, the scratch of Steven’s beard, as his cock curved down Steven’s throat. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” His eyes rolled back and damn if he wasn’t already on the edge of orgasm. Which he couldn’t be. It couldn’t happen. He’d wanted this too long. Never thinking it would actually happen. He wasn’t going to only last a second. He forced his eyes open to focus on anything other than the sensation, anything to make it last. His gaze settled on the dome light, its brightness nearly hurting his eyes after the darkness of the evening. There. That was better. Even with Steven’s mouth pumping over his cock, Ryan felt more in control. Better able to—the light! Fuck! He scampered backward, his cock scraping on Steven’s teeth at the abrupt motion. “The light! Everyone can see us!”

  Steve looked up, lust and confusion scattered across his face.

  Ryan pointed toward the light.

  “Oh, fuck.” Steven glanced around the empty parking lot. He hesitated just a moment, then unbuckled his black jeans, yanked them down, and stepped free of them. In a movement more graceful than Ryan would have figured for a man of Steven’s size, he stepped up into the cab and slammed the door shut behind him, then punched the switch on the overhead light.

  Ryan hated he’d said anything. He’d wanted to see Steven Conley naked since puberty had hit, and the only thing he’d gotten to see was the shadowy flash of a cock before Steven crawled in the truck and doused the light. That lament washed away as Steven’s heavy body smashed over his, their naked legs entangled, hard dicks pressed together.

  Steven kissed him again, the passion outside the truck not diminished in the slightest. He pulled back before Ryan could allow himself to sink into it. “Sorry. I know I should go slower. I don’t even know what you like, but I need in you. Right now. Please. Right now.”

  “Yes. Fuck, yes. Right now.”

  Steven’s eyes widened, like he’d expected an argument.

  Ryan wasn’t going to offer one. Though a little voice of caution crept in. “Condom, though. Wear a condom.”

  Without waiting, Steven angled himself between the front bucket seats. “Of course. I have a condom in the glove box. And lube.”

  Ryan had just noticed that from Steven’s new angle, his dick was only less than a foot from Ryan’s face. Still shadowed, but it was easy to see its girth matched the rest of Steven’s body. Just as he reached for it, Steven readjusted into the back seat. He started ripping open the condom. “Put your legs around me. Sorry it’s so cramped.”

  They really weren’t waiting. Disappointment washed over Ryan for a moment. This wasn’t exactly what he wanted. In his fantasies, there’d been more kissing. Shirts had been off. There’d been muscle and chest hair to explore. His legs hadn’t been in danger of cramping in the tight space. “I, ah, haven’t—” Embarrassment flooded through him. “—prepared or anything. I don’t know if….”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” Steven finished rolling the condom over his cock, poured lube into his hand, and leaned back over Ryan. Their eyes met before Steven kissed him again, and then his eyelids closed, and the kiss deepened.

  The disappointment faded as Steven’s kiss intensified, and his slick fingers pushed into Ryan, getting him ready, though it was more a suggestion than anything.

  Steven’s penetration was too soon and his cock too large. Ryan held his breath, waiting for the pain to ease. Steven paused, his slick hand finding Ryan’s erection between their bodies, and he began to pump, never breaking the kiss.

  The pain faded as Ryan’s orgasm began to grow again, and Steven started to thrust.

  In mere seconds, Ryan called out into Steven’s mouth as his release shot between them, followed by Steven’s own cry a few seconds after. Steven sank onto Ryan’s body, the weight of him feeling warm and safe. He kissed Ryan a few more times, the heat gone, but still tender. He let out a long sigh. “Thank you for that.”

  Within three minutes, pants back on, Ryan stood at the front door of the funeral home and watched as Steven’s truck pulled out of the parking lot and sped away.

  Unsure what emotions played within him, Ryan unlocked the door and went back in to return Mr. Conley to the cold room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Steven Conley

  The burial was the last mile of a marathon. Steven had managed the past few days in an autopilot blur. Functioning simply by demanding that his body go through the motions. He was charming with the guests at Mary’s. He ran the music and sound system for ManDonna and Ariel Merman’s Drag Queen Bingo night when Peter called in sick. He completed inventory and ordering. He convinced everyone he was fine. Everyone except Vahin. Steven could tell Vahin wasn’t buying it. Steven didn’t even try with Pat, though it wasn’t overly necessary. Between her nursing shifts and handling the extended family coming to town for the funeral, she hadn’t been at Mary’s, though her constant texts let Steven know she watched over him as she’d always done.

  To his surprise, Pat hadn’t spoken at the funeral. No one had, other than the pastor who’d never met their father. None of them were church folk. It was short, efficient. It would’ve felt cold if it hadn’t been for Pat’s and some of the grandchildren’s tears.

  As Steven watched his father’s casket being lowered into the ground, he waited for the relief to finally arrive. To cross that finish line and be able to take a long breath.

  It didn’t come.

  Maybe this was all there was. There’d been some release as he’d stood by his father’s casket, looking him dead in the face, promising him that he’d have no more power or influence over Steven’s life or thoughts.

  Big words, big promises. But Steven would keep them. As soon as the dirt was piled back into the necessary six feet, Steven would never look back.

  Pat squeezed his hand, then leaned into him. For warmth from the unusually cold November evening or for comfort, Steven wasn’t sure. He was numb; he had nothing left to give. Still, he tilted his head to rest on hers. He felt her flinch as the casket lurched when the man’s hand slipped as he turned the crank. A second passed and then things continued on the way they should.

  Steven let his gaze drift as the casket sank below the line of the ground, looking at the tall oaks surrounding the cemetery, brown leaves still clinging to most of them, massive pines seeming like they were ready for Christmas. The huge marble markers of the dead. Their father would get nothing more than a small slab with his name and years of existence. The same as the man provided for their mother. If she hadn’t deserved protection under granite angel wings, he for fuck didn’t either.

  Glancing down the row, Steven took in his nephews and their wives and children. He knew they were hurting. Being a grandfather had suited his
dad more than being a parent ever had. Steven was a pretty good uncle, but he could do better. He needed to do better.

  At the very back of the small group stood the funeral home guy. Steven had never even gotten his name—how shitty was that? Strange that he was here. Steven hadn’t expected any of the funeral home staff to attend the burial. The guy must really be committed to his work. Just then, the man’s dark gaze flitted up and met his. Even at a distance and even in the middle of the burial, there was heat. Instant heat. It was several seconds before the man looked away, but Steven continued to inspect him.

  He’d been attractive the other night, very, but Steven hadn’t really taken the time to notice. Attractive enough to get Steven’s attention, but really, it had been the desire pouring from the guy that had done it. Maybe Steven had been overly sensitive, given his state of mind, or projecting things that hadn’t been there, but it had felt predetermined. Like it was supposed to happen. The universe offering Steven solace when he needed it most.

  The man was beautiful. Tall and strong. Thick dark hair and brows. Classic angled features. He had an aristocratic air to him. Which was saying something, after Steven had seen him with his knees up in the back of his truck.

  Dude, how he’d fucked that up. With a man like that? He could’ve spent hours exploring, and he’d only lasted a minute, tops. It had been a whirlwind, encompassing a matter of moments, but a whirlwind that had kept playing through his mind ever since.

  The man glanced up again, his lips curving slightly, and then he looked away once more. There was definitely heat there, and desire. Steven wasn’t conceited, but he knew he was good-looking. If you were into the aging lumbersexual look. He was surprised the man was; funeral home attendant or not, he looked fancy, sophisticated, young. Probably early thirties. At least ten, maybe even thirteen years younger than himself. Young enough that Steven should’ve felt like a dirty old man. He didn’t.