by Nicole Casey
“But it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that we get home, put this stuff together, and enjoy the time we have together. Right?”
“Right,” Dylan said.
I smiled.
He smiled.
We continued down the road at a leisurely pace as the light turned green.
We had a new TV to set up, some furniture to put together.
Things would be just fine.
***
Scottie was ecstatic as we carried the new TV in. Having been without a movie for hours during the time we’d been shopping, he cried, “Want want want!” and began dancing up a storm while Dylan and I lugged the monster but discounted flat-screen into the apartment. Dylan—laughing—congratulated Scottie on his new acquisition; and the bird, thrilled out of his mind, began to bob his head up and down as we set it down in its designated place beside the far wall.
“I want!” the bird said.
“I know you want, baby, but we don’t have a satellite hooked up right now. Let me start you another movie and I promise I’ll get to work setting this up. Ok?”
He bobbed his head in agreement as I approached the laptop and queued up another movie for him.
“Sorry we didn’t get everything we went for,” Dylan said after several moments of silence.
“It’s all right,” I replied. “We tried. And I can always work out here for the time being.”
“Cool,” the man replied. He waited until another movie featuring chipmunks began to play before turning toward the doorway. “We ready to bring the rest of the stuff in?”
I was, and more than ready to begin putting it together.
In all, it took us about thirty minutes to lug everything in. The process of putting it all together, meanwhile, would take more time than I could even begin to imagine, but Dylan was happy to assist.
We first put the bed together—which was a chore-and-a-half considering all the pieces we had to assemble in order to make sure the frame fit properly into the platform—then began to work on the bookshelves and finally the dresser.
By the time we unrolled the mattress and allowed it to fall into place within the bed frame, we were both ready to collapse.
“Shit,” Dylan breathed, reaching up to wipe sweat from his brow. “That was a handful.”
“You’re telling me,” I laughed, settling down on the bare mattress and spreading out lengthwise along it. “Here, Dill. Lay down with me.”
He did, without reservation, and allowed me to cuddle up next to him as I struggled to remain awake. His breaths—ragged but quickly returning to their normal pace—mirrored my own, causing me to sigh contentedly as he wrapped an arm around me and nuzzled his face against my own.
“You know how sexy you are?” Dylan asked as he pressed a kiss to my cheek—as he moved his lips to my lips and then down across my neck.
“Dylan,” I sighed, moaning as he kissed my neck.
“What’s that?” he asked. “Did I hit a good spot?”
“You hit more than a good spot,” I said, shivering when he slid a hand underneath my shirt and began to paw at my abdomen, then my chest.
“Take your shirt off,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“So I can rub your shoulders.”
Having not been on the receiving end of a massage for months, I was more than eager to do as instructed.
After pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it onto the floor, I rolled onto my stomach and awaited him to begin his work.
He straddled my hips.
He set his hands upon me.
He began to rub my back.
I groaned as muscles stiff from the hard labor of the day began to loosen beneath his touch. He paid particular attention to my shoulders, which I’d complained had been hurting earlier that day, and allowed his hands to glide effortlessly down my spine and to the curves of my ribcage. I shivered as his fingers traced my ribs and sighed when he reached where the most of the discomfort was targeted in my lower back.
“That feel good?” Dylan asked.
“It feels excellent,” I replied, closing my eyes.
His hands continued to roam my body, massaging the sore and tender spots and bringing them relief I couldn’t have imagined feeling after first carrying, then putting together so much furniture. I sighed—multiple times—while his hands traced my body, as his fingertips slipped into every nook and crevice possible. He particularly concentrated on the landscapes of my ribcage and allowed his fingers to glide along bone and through the depressions between them.
It was nothing short of bliss.
I was just about to ask him to stop so I could massage him when he flipped me over and began massaging my chest, sliding his hands along my pectoral muscles and then down the expanse of my stomach and abdomen.
“Chase,” he breathed.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I’d like to give you a different kind of massage.”
“Baby,” I breathed.
He pressed his lips to my abdomen, allowed his tongue to glide along the surface of my skin, then bowed his head to my stomach and held it there for several long moments as he reached down and freed me from my shorts and briefs.
I felt like I would burst the moment his hand touched my cock.
He spit in his palm.
He encircled my cock.
He began to give me a handjob that rivaled the work of the Gods Themselves.
I sighed, contentedly, as he stroked me—as he drove me toward completion. I knew I wouldn’t last very long, if only because of how horned up he had already made me, but I could tell, based solely on how heavy my balls were, that this would be an explosive orgasm.
He began to stroke me harder, faster, in tune with his breathing. He leaned down and blew on the head of my cock and nearly caused me to come then and there, but he leaned forward to press his lips against mine and chuckled as I started to buck into his palm.
“You like that?” he breathed.
“I love it,” I replied.
“Good,” he said, “because I want to see you come.”
“Make me come,” I breathed.
“Yeah baby,” he said. “Come for me, Chase. Come for me.”
I batted his hand away and reached down to take hold of my dick.
After jerking for several long, tense moments—my orgasm building inside my balls and rising throughout my cock—I bucked into my hand and came, spraying my abdomen and soaking his hand in my juices.
He took hold of my cock thereafter and stroked me for several long moments, during which time I squirmed beneath his grasp, and sighed as the residual traces of my orgasm began to fade.
Dylan—who was still working himself to completion—mounted my chest and started to stroke himself directly above me. “I’m gonna come all over you,” he said, stroking his big, thick cock with urgency I could’ve never imagined. “Gonna soak your chest in my come.”
“Do it,” I breathed.
He jerked his cock three more times and came.
His come splattered my chest, my chin, my lips.
When my tongue instinctively slid out to taste him, I could’ve died on the spot.
He tasted so good, so ripe, so manly.
Dylan groaned as he rode the last of his orgasm and sighed as he rolled off of and collapsed beside me, chest heaving and eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Shit,” he breathed. “That was fucking good.”
“Thanks for the massage,” I replied with a chuckle.
“Sorry I didn’t get around to fucking you,” he mumbled, then leaned over to kiss me—long and deep, tongue included.
“That’s all right,” I replied, then laughed, slapping his hand away as he started to run his hand along my abdomen once more. “You’re going to make me horny again if you keep that up.”
“Who says that’d be a bad thing?” Dylan asked.
I could only groan as he rolled atop me and began to kiss me once more.
I smile
d.
He laughed.
He ran his hands across my body.
When he lifted me into his arms—when he held me close, kissed me—the scrape of his facial hair across my skin was enough to make me sigh.
He completed me, this man.
I had no idea what I’d do without him.
“So,” Dylan said after a moment—as he helped me from my place along the bed and began to lead me toward the bathroom. “How do you feel about me staying here for another night?”
“Don’t you have to work?” I asked as I parted the curtain and made my way into the shower.
“Yeah, but I can get up in the morning and leave from here.”
“All right,” I said. “If you’re comfortable with that, you can stay.”
“Good,” Dylan smiled. “Because I’d like to break that bed in, if you know what I mean.”
I laughed as I turned, splashed water at him, then as he stepped into the shower next to me.
When he slid his arms around my waist and leaned into my body, I couldn’t help but sigh.
This feeling of being wanted, of being held—
I could get used to it.
Chapter Seven
After Dylan left the following morning, I busied myself with my ordinary morning activities. I crawled out of bed around eight o’clock—even though Dylan had only left an hour prior to making his way to the fire station—showered, brushed my teeth, ate a slim meal of eggs and toast, then uncovered Scottie. I was just about to prepare him for the day’s festivities when a knock came at the door, startling me from my actions.
“Just a minute!” I called, turning to face the door with a frown.
Had Dylan returned, I wondered? It wasn’t as if he could’ve forgotten anything, considering that he’d come over empty-handed, and he’d be at work right now, or at least should have been.
That could only mean—
I swallowed a lump in my throat and approached the front door to look out the peephole.
Dion stood outside, holding what appeared to be some kind of store-bought pie.
Pie? I thought. Why is he—
I stopped.
He was bringing over a housewarming gift.
How kind, I thought, unlocking and then opening the door.
Dion greeted me with a warm smile. “Hey,” he said. “G’morning.”
“Good morning to you,” I replied, looking down at the pie. “Is that for me?”
“I figured I’d bring you something over,” he replied. “Little housewarming gift. I know it’s not much, but I try to make my neighbors feel at home when they move in.”
“You get many people moving in and out of this apartment?” I asked, stepping aside to let him in.
Scottie immediately screeched as he caught sight of Dion making his way into the deeper parts of the apartment.
“Hey bird,” he said with a grin. “What’s his name, by the way?”
“Scottieeee!” the bird said while spreading his wings out and doing a little dance.
“Aah. Scottie. Just like—”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Just like the TV show.”
Dion smiled and extended the pie to me. “I can’t stay for long,” he said after a moment’s hesitation, “but I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, and let you know that if you needed anything, I was around.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I reached out, took his hand, and shook it before he turned and made his way toward the doorway. “I try to grill every Friday,” he said as he opened the door and turned to face me. “Maybe you can come over sometime and have burgers or something tomorrow night.”
“That’d be perfect,” I replied.
As he closed the door behind him, I couldn’t help but smile.
Not only had I met someone who could potentially be a long-term partner, but I’d also made a new friend.
Friend.
Was that all that Dion wanted, in the end?
I couldn’t know—and wouldn’t dwell on it until I knew for certain.
With that in mind, I turned and made my way toward the makeshift desk, where I seated myself, booted up my word processor, and began to write.
***
Friday came, and with it a trepidation I couldn’t have ever imagined feeling in my entire life. Standing before the mirror in jeans and a simple T, I took note of my reflection as behind me Scottie continued to dance while watching his television show.
Should I even go over? I thought.
It wasn’t as if I’d actually committed myself to going over to the man’s apartment, or at least the grounds outside it where the barbecue stands were open to the public. I could always play sick, or feign deadlines—anything to get out of going to the handsome man’s apartment.
Why are you so stressed out about this though?
Was it because there was a certain expectancy with some men? I didn’t even know if Dion was gay—only knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was a kind and considerate neighbor—and for that reason shouldn’t be getting worked up over it.
Unless…
I sighed as I turned toward the curtained window. Angled just perfectly, I could see the man as he stood at the grill, as he prepared delicious hamburgers and savory hot dogs for a number of other individuals who stood outside conversing with him. They were neighbors, possibly, or friends who had just decided to come over, so it wasn’t as if he would be alone.
But, then again…
I shook my head once more as I turned to face the parrot, who was currently enraptured in his show and paying very little attention to where I stood in the hallway. “Scottie,” I said, clearing my throat and raising my voice so it could be heard over the drone of the TV. “I’m going to go outside for a little while. Can you be a good boy and watch your toons for me?”
The bird turned his head and stared blankly at me for several long moments, obviously contemplating. Then he bobbed his head and said, “Scottie!”
“Scottie can’t go with me,” I replied. “There’s smoke outside.”
“No!” the bird cried.
“Not that kind of smoke, Scottie. Someone’s cooking.”
“Huh?”
“Cooking,” I said. “Food.”
“Bread!”
“Not bread,” I replied, mentally cursing myself for having even mentioned the food in the first place. “Besides—you’ve already had your afternoon snack.”
“No no no no, no no no no.”
“Ok,” I said as I gradually began to back away toward the door—as I checked my pockets for my wallet, my keys, and then reached back for the doorknob. “I’ll see you in a little bit Scottie. Bye. Love you.”
“No no no no.”
I closed the door and exited before the bird could fall into hysterics and locked the apartment behind me, only pausing briefly to wait and see if the bird would enter total meltdown mode before turning and starting toward the grills nestled beneath the large trees shadowing the nearby plaza.
Dion—standing alone before a grill—smiled as I approached. “Hey Chase,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied, blinking, surprised that the people I’d seen previously were gone. “Where’d everyone go?”
“Oh. You saw them too?” Dion smiled. “They were just friends of mine stopping in. They took food and left already.”
“I see,” I replied, casting a glance over my shoulder at my apartment door.
“Bird have a fit when you left?” he asked with a knowing grin.
“How did you—”
“My grandmother used to have lovebirds before she passed on. They’d throw tantrums whenever she left.”
“Scottie knows I’m just outside,” I replied. “Besides—he has his shows.”
“Ah. Good on you, keeping him distracted like that.” Dion returned his attention back to the grill. “So—hotdogs or hamburgers?”
“I can do with a hamburger, if you have any to spare.”
“I’ve got mor
e than enough food. I’m actually meal-planning for the week. Hence why I’m out here grilling.”
No wonder you’re in such good shape, I thought, but bit my tongue to keep the comment to myself.
“So, Chase. Question, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Sure.”
“That guy I saw you with the other day. He your boyfriend?”
I could’ve choked on my tongue. Instead, I coughed to clear my throat and said, “Not… exactly.”
“Ah. I just figured I’d ask. Didn’t want to send the wrong message to either of you by inviting you over.”
“We’re dating,” I replied, “but he isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Aah. Ok. I only ask because, like I said: I don’t want to send the wrong impression. I really just wanted some company.”
“Are you…” I started, trailing the sentence off so he could answer the question for me.
“Gay?” he asked. “Oh, no. I mean, kinda. Sorta. Not… really.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I laughed.
“It means I’ve been with guys, but I’ve never been with one. You know?”
“I think I understand,” I replied, nodding as he turned and began to shovel food off the grill and onto a large plate. “I only just started getting back into the dating game myself.”
“Oh?” he asked, then gestured me to follow him toward his apartment.
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I paused to consider my actions before trudging along after him—knowing, beyond all else, that he didn’t expect anything, or at least said he didn’t. I closed the door behind us and turned to face Dion as he turned into the kitchen. “I… was in a bad relationship before I met Dylan,” I said. “It lasted for three years.”
“Shit, Chase. That fucking sucks. I’m sorry, man.”
“Don’t be. It’s better I got out of it while it was starting to get bad than staying when it was really bad.”
“I understand.” Dion withdrew plates from the overhead cabinets and flipped a burger atop a bun before gesturing to the condiments and vegetables spread out before him. I slid alongside him and began to prepare my burger as he drew in a breath and expelled it. “My last relationship didn’t end well either, if you want me to be perfectly honest.”