A Still, Small Voice

by D. W. Marchwell

  Whatever the reason, Noah couldn’t have been happier for his friend. And if Noah was right about the new paramour in Aiden’s life, he hoped that the two couples would become as close as he and Aiden had been when it was just the two of them, together against all obstacles. There was no one that Noah trusted more completely than Aiden, although Oscar was very rapidly becoming someone that Noah not only trusted but couldn’t imagine living without.

  When he was satisfied that all of the essentials were there in his duffle bag, Noah sat at the small kitchen table and waited for the phone call from Oscar, the one that would tell Noah that he should go outside to start their anniversary weekend. He checked his watch again, probably for the fiftieth time in as many seconds, and decided that he would go outside and enjoy the sunshine. He checked his loft windows and made sure that everything that should be turned off was and then headed out the door.

  He set his duffle bag down in the hallway and turned to lock the door, surprised at the sound of laughter, a child’s laughter, echoing through the corridor. He locked his door, pocketed the keys, grabbed his duffle, and headed for the front door, stopping when he noticed a little boy run out into the hallway, almost running right into him.

  “Artie?”

  Noah recognized Paul’s voice. This must be his son, Noah thought as he smiled down at the young boy and kept walking toward the front entrance.

  “Lost my ball,” the little boy said, and Noah looked around, noticing a bright blue football near the entrance doors. It was one of those spongy footballs.

  “You did, did you?” Noah put his duffle down and bent over at the waist to be almost eye level with the boy. “I’ll get your ball and you can go back to your daddy, okay?” The boy nodded and turned, heading back into Paul’s loft. Looks just like Paul, Noah thought as he walked over and picked up the football. He turned back and retrieved his duffle, then headed to the open door of Paul’s space. He knocked but didn’t see anyone right away. “Paul?” Noah said tentatively. There was no answer. “Paul?” Noah increased the volume a little bit more. “I found your son’s ball. I’ll just leave it on the counter and close the door.”

  As he approached the counter, a bookcase, startlingly white and hideous, caught Noah’s eye, and he saw about six framed pictures of varying sizes, some formal family portraits, most not, scattered among the shelves. He saw images of the little boy he’d just seen in the hallway. He decided not to focus on the pictures of Cherie, or that smug police officer who’d arrested him, and went back to the counter to deposit the football and then head outside to wait for Oscar.

  Police officer. The thought hit Noah like a speeding freight train. He turned back and looked at the pictures again. With the exception of the one picture that had obviously been taken in the hospital shortly after Paul and Cherie’s son was born, the police officer with the self-satisfied grin was in every single picture, always beside Paul. Leaning on him, hand on a shoulder. He was even standing right beside Paul in Paul and Cherie’s wedding portrait. Noah ignored the question that popped into his head as to why there would be a wedding portrait up considering Paul and Cherie were divorcing, and tried to wrap his mind around this curious fact. He relaxed his frown as he heard footsteps coming down the hall, and forced a smile.

  “Noah,” Paul said, coming out of one of the rooms down the long hallway, his face and clothes covered in tiny flecks of yellow paint. “Hey, how’ve you been, stranger?”

  “Fine, thank you.” Noah turned and offered the ball to Paul. “I told him I’d get the ball and that he should come back into the loft.”

  “Thanks,” Paul said. “He kind of got away from me. We were painting his room, and he kept unpacking the boxes to play with his toys.”

  Noah stood, wanting to ask about the police officer, but he couldn’t think of any nonchalant way to raise the subject. Finally, he just decided to dive right in. “How old is he? From the pictures, I’m guessing about five or so?”

  “Five, yeah,” Paul confirmed. “Just had his fifth birthday two months ago.”

  “No pictures of that yet?” Noah pointed to the bookshelf, then switched the duffle from one hand to the other. “They grow up so fast, yeah?”

  “That they do,” Paul said, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Are these others in the pictures part of Cherie’s family?” Noah tried to keep the look of sincere curiosity on his face as he looked back at the pictures.

  “No, Cherie’s an only child.” Paul moved a little closer to the pictures and pointed. “Those are Cherie’s parents,” he said, indicating a formal portrait of grandparents and grandson. “Those are my parents.” This particular picture was smaller and taken at some kind of rustic cabin.

  “Your parents live on a farm?” Noah tried to think of questions about all of the pictures so his questions about the police officer wouldn’t seem so isolated or out of context.

  “No, that’s our cabin. That’s where I spent my summers as a kid.”

  “Looks like Banff,” Noah said, smiling and rejecting the feelings of guilt.

  “No, Peace River, actually.” Paul pointed to the next picture, the one that showed Paul and the police officer wrestling, both of them trying to take possession of a basketball. “And that’s Timmy. We’ve known each other since elementary school. I moved out here only a year or two after he did.” Paul unfolded his arms and turned to face Noah. “You know Timmy. He’s the DARE liaison for the high school, or at least he used to be.”

  Noah shrugged. He wasn’t about to tempt fate by asking for a last name. Noah had never had much to do with the DARE program; why would he? It was a program aimed at teaching students the dangers of drinking and driving. It wasn’t a program that he would have had much reason to come in contact with, except for the occasional lost class when his students attended an assembly and Noah went along to supervise. “Well,” Noah said casually. “My ride’s probably here.” He turned and headed for the door.

  “Did you want to meet him?”

  For a moment, Noah thought Paul meant Timmy, then realized he’d been referring to his son. “Sure.”

  “Wait there,” Paul said and disappeared down the hallway. He came back with his son hoisted in his arms. “Artie? This is Mr. Lowe. He and Daddy used to work together.”

  Noah extended his hand and Artie took it, grabbing onto two of Noah’s fingers. “Hi,” the boy said with a bright smile. “I’m getting a yellow room.”

  “Yellow? Really? That’s a great choice,” Noah said enthu-siastically. “I hope you have fun painting today, Artie.” Noah smiled at Paul. “Okay… I’ve gotta go. Have a nice visit, you two.” He turned and headed for the door, waving as Paul said his good-byes. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the door.

  It wasn’t just stopping with me handcuffed so he could offer his congratulations, Noah thought as he moved slowly to the front entrance. They’ve been friends since elementary school. There was a picture forming in Noah’s brain, and he didn’t really know what to think about that. He suddenly remembered Paul telling him, “It’s complicated,” in response to Noah’s observation that it would have been easier to stay out west to get his teaching degree than to move to a new city where he wouldn’t know anyone. But he had known someone. Timmy had been here already, and Paul had probably stayed with him. And then there was the name. Noah couldn’t think of one other male adult who preferred to be called by the childhood form of his name once past the age of twenty. Timmy. Noah was willing to bet that none of the officer’s colleagues called him that.

  He was still mulling it all over by the time Oscar pulled up to the curb. Seeing Oscar put a smile on his face, as it always did, and he wondered what Oscar would make of this new piece of information.

  THEY’D started watching the movie with the best of intentions, but somehow, after having watched only thirty minutes of it, they were naked and lying on a fake fur throw on the floor. Noah had laughed when the throw that had been covering them on the sofa as
they sat huddled together was discarded, Oscar then laying it out and giving him a look that was unmistakable. Neither man was in any hurry, each of them taking the time to explore and discover what they hadn’t already.

  Noah had jokingly told Oscar that they would both be too sore and exhausted to do anything by Sunday, the actual day of their one-month anniversary. But Oscar just grinned and told him that they would just have to pace themselves. And so they were lying on the fake fur, kissing and holding one another.

  “Happy, baby?” Oscar was on top, his hips and ample endowment resting between Noah’s legs.

  “I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling once since I met you,” Noah said, his hands tracing lazy circles over the muscled back.

  “You’re amazing,” Oscar said before pressing their lips together again.

  “That’s my line,” Noah said, then sucked Oscar’s lower lip in between his own.

  “One month.” Oscar smoothed his hands over Noah’s hair. “Hard to believe sometimes.”

  “What? That’s it’s only been a month? Or that you fell in love again.”

  “Either… both.” Oscar propped himself up on his elbows, the shifting creating some very nice friction between their groins. “I do love you.”

  Noah sighed as the friction eased. “I love you too. Very much.”

  Oscar dipped his head, and this time the kiss was longer, more passionate. Noah felt the gentle pressure of Oscar’s tongue against his lips, and he opened his mouth, darting his tongue out, the touch making him push his hips into his lover’s body. Oscar pulled his head back slightly. “Should we take this to the bedroom, or do you want to stay here?”

  “Bedroom,” Noah whispered against the kiss-swollen lips. “Unless you have supplies here.” Oscar reached beside him, but Noah couldn’t really see where. With a raised eyebrow, Oscar looked down at Noah as he brought his hand up to show Noah the lube and the new box of condoms. “Why am I not surprised?” Noah reached down with one hand and slapped his lover’s ass.

  “What do you want, baby?”

  Noah pushed against Oscar’s chest very gently, and the older man rolled off, his eyes heavy with need and desire as Noah positioned his upper body on the sofa cushions. “You, Oscar, always you.”

  “Fuck,” Oscar sighed as he watched Noah pull apart his own cheeks, exposing his insatiable hole. “So sweet.”

  “Love it when I hear that language from you. Drives me crazy knowing that you can’t control yourself.” Noah turned around to look at his lover slipping on a condom, lubing first himself and then Noah’s waiting hole.

  “God, Noah, your ass is just the finest I’ve ever seen.” Oscar rose up on his knees and positioned himself behind Noah. He leaned down and began probing at the tight ring of muscle with his tongue and thumbs. “I spend most of my days rock hard just thinking about fucking you.”

  “Fuck me, yeah,” Noah said, his eyes closing as Oscar continued to work his hole. He felt one thumb, then both, then that amazing tongue. Oscar rimmed him, licked him, stretched him before saying, “Need you, Oscar. Want you.”

  “All yours, baby, only yours.”

  Noah felt the hands grip his hips and then the slow, deliberate push of that monster cock against his hole. Noah yelled out when the head pushed past his prostate, and tried to push himself back onto Oscar’s dick. “Oooh, Oscar, yeah, fuck me, please. So fucking amazing. Harder, please.” Noah’s hands scrambled for purchase on the leather sofa, the pain of Oscar’s long, thick dick exquisite and oh so welcome.

  “You like that, baby? Like my big dick in your tight hole?”

  Noah grunted and pushed back again, finally feeling his ass against Oscar’s flat belly. He whimpered as Oscar moved his hips from side to side slowly, totally lost in being filled by this man. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar.” He called out his lover’s name over and over again as he felt the slow pull against the muscle. Oscar pulled out and then thrust in just enough to rub the head of his dick against Noah’s prostate over and over again.

  “Feels so good, damn, baby.” Oscar moaned as he pushed all the way in again.

  Noah felt Oscar’s hands trail up his back and then stop at his shoulders. Noah was completely aroused by the thought that Oscar was grabbing his shoulders for leverage, that he would very soon be pumping faster, harder, into Noah. “Yeah, please, harder, please,” Noah moaned as he felt Oscar’s hairy torso resting on his back.

  “Okay, baby, you ready?” Oscar’s lips kissed Noah’s back, wherever they could reach, and he began snapping his hips. Noah could feel the sheer size of Oscar inside of him, could feel the low-hanging balls slapping against his own. Just when Noah thought it couldn’t possibly be any better, feel any better, Oscar’s hand trailed down Noah’s stomach and grabbed his cock. He felt the large thumb sliding back and forth over the slit. “Is that what I do to you, baby? Make you leak all that pre-cum?” Oscar kissed his back a few more times, and then Noah felt the other hand on his chest, pulling Noah up and away from the sofa. “Move with me, Noah,” Oscar said as he leaned back on his haunches, Noah ending up sitting, impaled, on his lover’s lap.

  Noah’s hands were on top of Oscar’s. He interlaced his fingers with those of the hand on his chest, while his other hand covered the hand that Oscar was using to pump his dick. He yelled out several times when Oscar’s cock pushed up and into him, farther than it ever had before. It was such an incredible feeling of pain and pleasure. The intensity of what Noah was feeling, seemingly over every inch of his body, sent his mind reeling. And when Oscar swiped a thumb, one last time, over the slit of his cock, Noah cried out, his muscles clamping down on Oscar’s cock. As his orgasm ripped through his sensitive body, Noah felt Oscar’s lips on his neck, on his shoulders, on his ears. He heard Oscar call out his name over and over again, felt the incredibly erotic thrumming inside of him as Oscar emptied his seed into the condom.

  Oscar tightened his grip on Noah’s chest, bringing his other hand up to rest at Noah’s neck. Noah reached around and stroked whatever skin he could reach. Oscar was so hot, so slick with sweat. It was the most sexually arousing thing Noah had ever felt. To feel what he did to Oscar, how hot he made Oscar, both literally and figuratively.

  “I love you, Noah Lowe.”

  Noah closed his eyes as he listened to Oscar repeating those words over and over again. When he felt Oscar begin to soften and slip out of him, Noah pulled himself up and turned around, pulling Oscar back down to the throw. This time, Noah was on top, and he brushed the damp locks of hair from Oscar’s sweaty brow. “I love you, Oscar Reynolds, so very, very much.”

  “Happy anniversary,” Oscar said with a sigh, tilting his head to kiss Noah’s wrists and hands.

  “Something tells me it will be, yes.” Noah kissed Oscar as he reached down and pulled off the condom with one hand, tossing it to the side. He tried to move down to do some last-minute cleanup, but Oscar prevented him from moving too far away.

  “I know it’s not Sunday, but I want to give you one of your presents now.” Oscar was dotting Noah’s skin with little kisses.

  “One of?” Noah tried to look horrified. “I only got you one.”

  “I don’t care if you didn’t get me any,” Oscar said, his hands on either side of Noah’s face. “Nothing could be better than what you’ve already given me.”

  “Oh, Oscar,” Noah cooed. “Now I feel like a complete shit. I was only teasing you. I got you lots of stuff.” Noah kissed him soundly. “And if you give me one, I’ll let you have one now as well.”

  After a quick shower, Oscar had Noah standing in the laundry room, by the door that led to the garage. He had one hand covering Noah’s eyes and the other at the base of his neck. “Remember how I asked you to park on the street because I wanted to wash the driveway tomorrow?”

  Noah nodded but said nothing.

  “Well, I don’t need to clean the driveway tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I said to you, but then I just figured you’re an even bigger clean-fr
eak than I first thought,” Noah said, laughing at Oscar when he felt the big hand squeeze his neck.

  “I told you to park on the street… because….”

  Noah could hear the turn of the doorknob and the faint creak of hinges and guessed that Oscar was opening the door to show him his present.

  “I didn’t want you seeing your present if you parked in the garage.”

  “What the hell is it that you could only fit it in the garage?” Noah’s heard his voice go up almost an octave, quite curious to find out what this present could be.

  “Open!”

  Noah opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust. He looked around for a few seconds and then realized that the present wasn’t in the garage; the present was the garage. “You moved a bunch of stuff from the other side of the garage.” It wasn’t a question, and Noah knew he’d guessed correctly by the flush creeping up Oscar’s beautiful face. Noah launched himself at the taller man and wrapped his arms around his neck. “I love it. And I love you for doing this.” Noah turned around and looked at the space. “You made room for my car,” Noah said, his voice a mixture of surprise and love.

  Oscar reached beside him and hit a button, the garage door groaning into action and lifting to reveal Noah’s car out on the street. “Supposed to rain tonight,” Oscar said as he stepped into the empty space and reached into his pocket to retrieve Noah’s car keys. “I stole them out of your jeans,” he explained as he waited for Noah to go and drive his car into the garage.