Changing on the Fly

by Cherylanne Corneille

  "Oh fuck, this smells good," Keiffer said when I placed his plate of eggs in front of him. He attacked the food with as much gusto as a man with cracked ribs could. "So your conditions?" he asked with a mouth packed full of scrambled eggs.

  "One is that you don't steal anything." His one green eye narrowed. The other was too puffy to do anything aside from water a little bit. When he didn't speak out to defend himself, I pushed on. "Two is that you tell me who you are and who did this to you."

  His jaw tightened as soon as condition two left my mouth.

  "Look," I sighed and leaned up to put my elbows to the table. The sunlight streamed in to warm my back and Keiffer's abused face. "I'm not going to give sanctuary to a man who won't even tell me his name or who put him into this condition. Those are the terms. You can be polite and enjoy my hospitality or you can get your grubby clothes and go back to the park bench you call home."

  "I don't sleep on a fucking bench," he snarled then winced.

  "Well, I wouldn't know where you sleep, would I? All I know about you is that you like to bottom and that you are not to be trusted with an unattended wallet."

  "You owed me for that night," he said then drank down the entire glass of orange juice. "We agreed to cash for a fuck."

  "Yeah, I guess I did, but you could have asked me for the money and not snuck out like a common thief." He continued gently chewing, but his green eye smoldered. "So those are the conditions. Stay here to recuperate or go back to where you live after you finish your eggs."

  "I can't go back," he mumbled after shoveling another forkful of egg into his face. I waited for more, but nothing came except the sound of his chewing. He appeared to be in considerable pain. Why he had even left the bed was beyond me. The man was stubbornly proud about some things it seemed.

  "Care to tell me why?" I folded my arms on my placemat. Keiffer swallowed carefully then lifted his battered sight to my face.

  "This guy jumped me for my spot."

  "Your spot?" My guest sighed as if he were talking with a moron.

  "Yeah, my spot at the shelter over in the Bowery." He scraped up the last crumbs of egg. I pushed my plate, and the few uneaten bites of my breakfast, to him. He gave me a lopsided smile that caused all kinds of turmoil inside me.

  "So you don't sleep in a subway tunnel?"

  "No, I mean, not lately. That's really dangerous."

  "So is sleeping in a shelter, it seems," I angrily snapped. Keiffer shrugged a shoulder then spit out a burning curse. "Why would a guy jump you for your bed when there's a whole shelter full of beds?"

  "Uhm, one is because every shelter in this city is packed full every night." I blinked stupidly at Keiffer. I didn't know that there was such a crush at the city homeless shelters. "Some shelters are iffy. They're full of drug pushers and people who will steal your shoes. Some have bed bugs. This guy, he's majorly schizophrenic, I think. He decided he wanted my bed for some fucking reason then followed me outside. When I told him to fuck off, he leapt on me. You ever try to fight off someone who's in a fucking rage?"

  "No, not really." I had thought about some goon back in college hockey but even defending yourself in a hockey game can't be compared to some person with a severe mental condition attacking you over a bedbug-filled bed. "Why are you on the streets, Keiffer?" That sharp green grew suspicious. "You told me your name last night when I came to bed."

  The distrust leeched away. "Drugs make me stupid. I don't like being stupid. Me telling you that wasn't part of the deal. You wanted to know who jumped me, I told you. You already know my name, so I don't need to tell you that."

  "I don't know your last name," I pointed out when he angrily shoved back from the table and got to his bare feet, his face contorted in pain.

  "Holden," he tossed at me then padded off with his left arm cradling his side.

  "Nice to meet you, Keiffer Holden," I grumbled acidly to the now empty kitchen.

  Eight

  A COUPLE NIGHTS turned into a week, then two then three and then slid into four. I found that I liked coming home to find Keiffer there. I never asked him about why he was on the street again. That seemed to be top-secret information, which he kept locked down tightly, so I didn't push. It ate at me like a sliver under my skin not knowing though. I feared pushing him back out onto the streets, and into less than savory beds, so I bit my tongue to keep him close.

  I enjoyed his company over meals, the feel of his cool body next to mine in bed, and the smell of him in my house. Over the course of those twenty-nine days, he healed nicely. The black eye was back to normal. The ribs also seemed to be healing, although he still favored that side when taking deep breaths. Overall, Keiffer was looking much better. He had some color back to his cheeks, and his eyes glowed with improving health. He was still far too skinny for his height, which was about the same as mine at an inch over six feet. If he kept eating as he did, he'd soon be back up to playing weight. Not that he played. And that ground my gears as well, because anyone with that much innate talent should be playing. Maybe, someday, I would discover his secrets. If he ever grew to trust me enough, although after nearly a month of cohabitation, he still treated me as a trick, a john that he favored, of course, but still a person who he kept secrets from. Not that I was much better.

  Keiffer and I were a well-guarded secret. I told no one about him, especially Otto. Norman and Annie, my housekeeper, were the only two who knew Keiffer was here. Both had been sworn to secrecy. I could only pray they would keep things to themselves. Keiffer was like my private oasis from the steady pressure of pro hockey and being Riley Zeally. He didn't fawn as so many did. Was he using me in his own way? Probably. More than likely. Okay, yes he was. Did he mind being Riley Zeally's secret roommate? I suspected not. Life at my loft had to be better than sleeping in the subway or getting busted up over a worn-out mattress in an over-crowded shelter. How did it make me feel knowing I was buying his companionship? Rather soiled, but I couldn't just tell him to take a hike, and I certainly didn't want him to leave so where did that leave me?

  I came home one day in late March after a long morning skate to find Keiffer awaiting me wearing nothing but a faded pair of jeans and a smile that I had not seen since the first night we had slept together. My cock reacted instantly to the sight. I hadn't made any advances toward him during his month with me. He had needed to heal.

  "Happy Birthday," he said after I stepped into the loft and closed the door. He walked over to me, sleek as a lion, his mane of gold hair dangling into his eyes. My gaze darted downward. He was as hard as I was by the looks of it. My balls grew heavier.

  "How did you find out?" I asked as he stopped before me and reached up to push my suit jacket off my shoulders. I wasn't big into birthday celebrations much to my mother's and friends extreme aggravation.

  "It was on TV. Thanks for telling me by the way, you dick." He threw the jacket over the sofa then pressed against me. "They were talking about you on Good Morning Manhattan after you left." His hands slithered around my sides. I rested my palms on his bare pectorals. "I have something special for you."

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, my sight lingering on his mouth. He wet his lips. A surge of lust raced through me. My fingers moved gently over his skin, enjoying the crisp feel of the sparse yellow curls sprinkled over his chest. "Your ribs," I added as I struggled not to throw him to the floor and leap on him like a hungry leopard.

  "Are mostly fine, so yeah, I want to do this," Keiffer replied then jerked me even more tightly to him. We groaned in unison, and then I kissed him ravenously. There was little talking after that first kiss. We tripped and stumbled into the bedroom, leaving a trail of my clothing as we went. I managed to empty my pants pockets to the nightstand before dropping them to the floor. When we fell into my bed, we were both naked. I rubbed my cock against his as I kneeled between his splayed legs. "Go on, fuck me," he panted. There was no need for him to ask twice. I had myself covered with latex and lubed up in under a minut
e. Keiffer reached for my prick then placed me against his opening.

  I put my hands on the inside of his thighs, squeezed, and then pushed into him. Watching the head of my cock disappear inside him almost made me buckle. Keiffer pushed against me, easing more of me into him. He moaned. I glanced up from the erotic sight of cock sliding into ass.

  "Did that hurt?" I asked.

  "No, yes, it burns a little, but fuck, it's so good," he tightly replied.

  "Relax, I'll be gentle."

  "I know you will."

  He sounded sincere. That stirred something inside my chest that I didn't wish to explore. My concentration was on filling Keiffer's ass with my dick. And I did, slowly and as gently as possible, but I soon had myself balls deep inside him.

  "You're so fucking beautiful," I murmured while he writhed beneath me. "Are you negative? Please don't feed me bullshit on this, okay? I need to know."

  "Yeah, I am. I swear. They have this free traveling clinic. I get checked every six months. I'm clean, I promise, no bullshit."

  "Don't say that. It's not a question of dirty or clean, Keiffer. It's just negative or positive, and either way I'm still going to fuck you."

  His lashes lifted, and he smiled as if he had known I would say that. Suddenly, there were other things that I so wanted to say to him. Instead, I began to pump in and out of him, my hands cupping his legs behind the knees. I rolled my head back as I fucked him, staring at the ceiling then the city. Usually I hid behind the drapes, but this time I stared out at New York as I pounded into Keiffer, daring anyone in any of the nearby buildings to see us. I came quickly with my gaze firmly locked on the city. I thrust as deeply into him as I could, balls still contracting then I slapped Keiffer's hand from his prick.

  "Oh fucking A," he gasped when I fisted his prick. "Oh fuck, Riley. Fuck yeah."

  I tugged on him roughly, pulling the purplish head of his cock, and then rubbed my thumb over his leaking slit as my body shuddered violently.

  "Come for me now," I ground out. He put his hand over mine, squeezing his cock far harder than I ever would have. Several long strokes and he vocally blew apart. Hot semen coated our fingers. He was so beautiful like this, his long body racked with pleasure, his eyes closed, and his mouth open, that I wanted to stay inside him forever.

  Of course, that couldn't happen. I had to pull out and attend to the used condom in the master bath. Keiffer followed me, touching my back and buttocks, kissing the back of my neck. I barely had the Trojan off and flushed and we were back at each other. Keiffer handed me another condom followed with a wink. We got into the shower and then I got into him. Keiffer was pliant as a rag doll this time. I held him around the waist with one hand, his hands splayed on the wall of the shower, while my other hand held his long hair. He shivered in pleasure when I bit his shoulder.

  "Mark me, yeah, fucking make me yours," Keiffer shouted as I suckled on his wet skin, making bruise after bruise. Seeing my marks on him made me lose it completely. I blinked to clear the water from my eyes. I thrust once, twice, three times then came apart. He made a whimpering sound that I thought for a moment was pain. It wasn't. It was him blowing his wad all over his hand.

  "I'm so sorry. I always seem to hurt you," I muttered as I stared at the love marks on his skin.

  "How many times do I have to tell you that I love it when you lose it?" He wiggled free and my cock slid out of him. Keiffer turned to face me then stepped into my arms.

  "Would you believe me if I said that I haven't had a lot of lovers?"

  "Yeah, I would definitely believe you." Keiffer laughed then grabbed a hot, long kiss. We half-assed toweled off then fell back into bed. I couldn't keep my hands off him, and he seemed to be just as hungry for my touch as I was for his. After some heavy petting, our hunger for what was in the kitchen overtook our need for each other.

  My stomach rumbled loudly as Keiffer relaxed snug to my left side.

  "Dude, feed that beast," he chuckled groggily. "I made you a chicken potpie."

  "I'm sorry, but what?" I rolled my head to look at him. "You made a meal?"

  "Yeah, I made it. Well, Annie gave me your mother's recipe. She hates me, you know that?"

  I sat up then turned to look at him. "Did she say that?"

  "No," he yawned then stretched long arms over his head. He winced slightly and rolled to his back. I contemplated sliding over him, but my empty stomach spoke up. "But I can tell by the way she glares at me."

  "She thinks she's my mother or something. Just ignore her. This is my house, and you're my guest," I said and bent down to kiss his navel before kicking off the damp sheet and finding my trousers on the floor. I padded out to the kitchen, slightly aggravated about my housekeeper's attitude. Smells that reminded me of home enveloped me when I stepped into the kitchen. After I cracked the oven door, the aromas intensified. My mouth watered after I placed the dish of baked chicken potpie to the counter. It made me all kinds of emotional knowing that Keiffer had made the potpie. I was sure it would be delicious even if the crust did look a little thicker than mom's did.

  I threw the dishtowel I had used in lieu of a potholder to the counter, grabbed two plates and filled them then found a couple of clean forks in the dishwasher. Grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, I carefully carried our late lunch to the bedroom. Keiffer was dozing when I walked through the door bearing two overflowing plates of potpie.

  "Hey, wake up." I nudged the mattress with my hip. The bed shook slightly. Keiffer's emerald eyes slowly opened then went wide.

  "A man who fucks me silly then brings me food. I think I love you." He grinned then hurried to sit up. I shoved the plate at him as I locked a cool look down to mask the shocked one I feared I now wore.

  He didn't mean to say the L word, Riley. He was just fucking around.

  He plucked a cold water bottle from between my arm and chest. I sat on the edge of the bed, my bare feet resting on the thick duvet that had slithered off the mattress during sex. My lover/concubine/whatever-the-fuck-he-was made a yummy sound behind me. I rested my plate on my thighs and stared at a pea playing cozy with a large chunk of chicken.

  "My mother told Annie that this was my favorite meal," I said while picking up my fork from where it lay atop the golden crust.

  "She mentioned that," Keiffer replied. His fork was hitting his plate with speed. I had yet to take a bite. I inhaled the glorious aroma of the potpie. "I told her I thought that would be a perfect birthday treat since you have to play tonight, and we couldn't go out. So, I ran to the store on the next block and got what I needed. I did damn good, huh?"

  I bobbed my head in agreement. "Do you go out when I'm not home?"

  "Sure, I mean, you didn't think I've been sitting here for the past month just waiting for you to haul your sweet ass home, did you?"

  "No, of course not." Yes. Yes I did, or least I hoped that he had. "Are you out hustling other men when I'm gone? You can be honest."

  "Fuck no. Why would I do that?" The sound of his fork hitting his plate stopped. I speared that fat bit of chicken as well as the pea.

  "I don't know, maybe you need the money. Maybe you just like to fuck." Stop Riley. Stop it now. Your bullshit is going to kill this…this… I didn't even know what to call what Keiffer and I had.

  "Wow, insecure much?" Keiffer asked. I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath.

  "All I know is hockey," I confessed, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I never dated much after I figured out that I was gay. It was just easier to not get involved than it was to try to hide a relationship."

  "I don't get why you feel the need to hide it," he said and shuffled around. I heard him placing his plate on the nightstand on his side of the bed. His hands, warm from his dinner platter, then lighted on my back. I tensed instantly then let the muscles relax. Keiffer shifted around until he was kneeling behind me, his long arms draped around my neck, his chin resting on my right shoulder. "What's up with that? Why stay in the closet? You're Riley fucking Zeall
y. Do you know how jacked up young gay dudes would be to hear that you were one of them? If I had known of one gay pro hockey player back when my mother was all over me to stop being a hedonistic queer, maybe I would have —"

  He stopped dead midsentence, arms tightening slightly around my neck. I opened my eyes and turned my head to try to look at him. Keiffer buried his nose into my neck. His bare chest lay on my spine, his body heat seeping into my soul.

  "Why don't you tell me about that, and I'll try to explain why I haven't come out," I offered, my meal getting colder by the minute. His chest shuddered as he drew in a long breath.

  "Not much to tell," he murmured, his lips still resting on my neck. I forced myself to sit still. I didn't want to change anything about what was happening right here and right now. "I was thirteen when I started noticing guys more than girls, getting turned on by them in the locker room; you know what I mean."

  I nodded silently. I certainly did know what he meant.

  "I was about four months shy of turning fourteen when my mother found out. She kind of caught me making out with some dude from out of state who was being billeted by the family of some friend of mine. He played bantam. We were in our shed. Sucking face and jerking each other off right beside the lawn mower." Keiffer made an odd noise that could have been disgust or pain. "Mom prayed over me for weeks, asking her God to cure me. When that didn't work, she signed me up for one of those conversion camp things."

  "Oh man," I whispered as I cradled my lukewarm potpie. The room felt cold even though Keiffer and I were skin to skin.

  "Shit went down. I shoved her into a wall when she went to call her pastor to come get me. Dad was too drunk to do anything but bellow at me for being a fucking faggot. I ran away and thumbed my way up from Jersey to New York, thinking that I could find a job, maybe stay in hockey somehow. Only thing I could do was push a puck or suck a dick. I took up sucking dick since there was more money in that for a fourteen year old."