Secrets and Charms

by Lou Harper

  “Okay,” Rich said, barely above a whisper.

  Olly lived in a two-story apartment building built around the twenties or thirties. It was a lot like Willard Keats—stylish but showing its age. The ornate wrought-iron balustrades along the staircase leading to the second floor were original but thick with many layers of paint, and the hardwood floor of Olly’s apartment creaked at certain spots. There was no central air, but all three bedrooms and the living room had window units.

  The apartment stood quiet, but Olly dashed around to check. To his relief, neither of his roommates was home. He ducked into his own room, making sure it was tidy enough, and also shot off a text to Dylan, asking—no, begging—Dylan not to come home for a few more hours at least. Dylan replied with an OK and an obscene photo. All was well, Olly concluded.

  “Nice crown molding,” Rich commented, staring at the ceiling when Olly arrived back in the living room.

  Not what Olly hoped to hear. “That better be a double entendre.” Grabbing Rich by the arm, he led the way into his bedroom. He had a corner room, normally with plenty of light, but it was dusk outside already, plus he’d closed the blinds. There wasn’t much in the room aside from the bed, dresser and night table.

  Rich had gone stiff, but not in the good way. However, he let Olly maneuver him around and push him down onto the mattress. He didn’t resist as Olly straddled his thighs and pulled his shirt off. His gaze stayed glued to Olly’s every move, lust mixing with sheer panic in his eyes. “I’m not sure I can do this,” he said, voice cracking.

  Olly’s heart ached at the sight of such vulnerability. He bent his head and kissed Rich’s sternum. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. Trust me,” he murmured and rubbed his cheek to Rich’s chest hair. Rich had a nice spread there, thinning out to a single line leading all the way to the hem of his jeans and beyond. Olly followed the trail, though he wandered off too, pressing his lips to warm skin, kissing and licking as he went. He was determined not to rush things this time around.

  As the coyote fang dangling from Olly’s neck brushed against Rich’s side, he squirmed. “Oof, tickles.”

  Olly thought of taking the charm off, but instead, he just turned it around. He grinned. “Ticklish, eh?” He bent his head and blew a raspberry onto Rich’s stomach between the belly button and groin. He felt Rich’s muscles lose their tension under his hands as Rich laughed. Keeping his head down, Olly unbuckled Rich’s belt and popped the button of the jeans free. He pulled the zipper down slowly, flaring his nostrils to inhale Rich’s scent—soap and musk. A few strands of hair poked out from under Rich’s black Jockeys. Olly tugged their waistband lower and saw more coppery goodness. Rich’s cock strained against the fabric. The tightly coiled desire burst across Olly’s chest, stealing his breath away. A low moan escaped his throat.

  As Olly mouthed his cock through the cotton, Rich’s breathing became labored, and soon he placed his hand on Olly’s head. He dug his fingers into Olly’s hair, kneading, pressing and waking a tingling army of goose bumps on Olly’s skin.

  Yearning for more, Olly pushed himself off the bed. He yanked Rich’s shoes off, then hooked his fingers under the waistbands of the jeans and underwear both and began to pull.

  Rich lifted his hips, and a second later, he lay on Olly’s bed completely and gloriously naked.

  “Oh my God, you’re beautiful,” Olly blurted out, and he really meant it.

  Rich had no six-pack or the sculpted body of a movie star, but he was deliciously real, with swoops of muscles, bumps and dips, ribs and flat belly. Rich’s pubes were the color of fresh pennies, and his pale cock rose proudly from its nest.

  Olly wanted to do dirty things to this pristine body. He wanted to touch, lick and bite every inch of Rich, and was dying to see his come smeared into the red hairs. He had to remind himself to go slow and not to spook Rich. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said and rushed to the bathroom. He shed his clothes and cleaned up inside and out, mostly inside, as much as possible. He was afraid if he took too long, Rich might bolt. So he did the best he could.

  Back in the bedroom, he found Rich reposed in the middle of the bed, eyes closed, legs spread, one hand under his head, the other slowly stroking his cock.

  Olly stopped at the door, taking the picture in. “Mmm… How did you know this was my favorite fantasy?”

  Rich opened his eyes. “Finding a naked pervert in your bed?”

  Olly was relieved to hear Rich joke. “A naked and hard pervert.” He climbed on top of the covers.

  Rich shifted to make room. He let go of his cock, turned to his side and brushed his fingers over Olly’s tattoo. “Your monster is upside down.”

  “He’s diving.”

  Rich didn’t seem to be able to tear his gaze from the tattoo and its surroundings. “You promised me dirty details,” he said, pressing his fingers harder.

  Inwardly, Olly grinned like mad—Rich had a kinky streak, possibly unexplored. It boded well. “I’ll do better. I’ll show you.” He rolled over and took the bottle of lube from the nightstand, and grabbed a couple of condoms from the drawer as well. Lying down on his back, he dropped his loot onto the bed.

  He squirted lube on his fingers and pushed himself up on one elbow. “As I’ve told you before, the store was empty, the door locked, and Wade and I were in the back room, with me in the chair and him sitting next to me on a stool. After Wade finished with the needles, he used some tattoo-ointment thing he had and rubbed it on my skin.” Olly illustrated his words by slowly smearing the lube over the blue tentacles. However, he kept his attention on Rich and saw with satisfaction Rich’s gaze tracking his fingers, pupils growing big. “I, of course, was naked from the waist down,” Olly went on, keeping his voice low, just above a murmur. “Then he slid his fingers to my balls.” Olly did the same. “Wade had big hands with big, hairy knuckles, but he knew how to be firm and gentle at the same time.”

  “Did he touch your cock?” Rich asked.

  “Not with that hand—the lotion tastes like crap, and he planned to suck me off later. He used the other one. I could use a hand,” Olly added. With his one elbow supporting him, he didn’t have full use of both of his.

  Rich put his hand on Olly’s cock, curling his fingers around the shaft. “Like this?” His touch was steady.

  Olly itched for more. “Mmm…yeah, perfect. Now stroke it slowly, like you were doing yourself when I came in.” Rich complied, and Olly continued the story, though he was having an increasingly hard time concentrating. “He told me to slide down in the chair, all the way to the edge, and spread my legs.” Olly didn’t slide, but he moved his thighs farther apart. He also pumped more lube onto his fingers. “When I did, he stuck a finger up my ass. Then more.” Olly illustrated with his own fingers, though he couldn’t reach as far up as Wade had. “Did I mention he had thick fingers?”

  The irises of Rich’s eyes were barely more than a thin ring of blue. “How did it feel?”

  “Divine.” Olly involuntarily canted his hips, and a small groan escaped from deep in his throat.

  “I imagined it differently,” Rich said, surprising Olly.

  Olly blinked a few times while trying to clear his head. “You had fantasies about me? Did you jack off while having them?”

  “Once or twice.”

  Olly was intrigued and even more turned on than before. “Tell me your fantasy.”

  Rich closed his eyes, and his hand stilled on Olly’s shaft. “I imagined this guy telling you to get up, turn around and brace against the chair.”

  Oh yeah, Olly saw where Rich was going. “My ass is in the air, ready for your cock. Is that your fantasy? Do you want to fuck me?”

  Rich nodded. “But I’ve never…” Rich had a charming tendency to get shy.

  Olly had no such problems. “You’ve never had anal? Not even with a girl?”

  “Nope.”

  “No problem. I have an idea.” Personally, Olly loved being taken doggy style, but he pre
ferred having more control with a novice. “Lie back.”

  Rich rolled onto his back, with his cock standing to attention. After ripping open a foil pack, Olly rolled a condom onto Rich’s shaft. Olly used only the best, made of some nifty new material that didn’t smell like latex. Rich quietly watched the proceedings even as Olly straddled his hips.

  Olly took hold of Rich’s cock and guided its tip to his hole. He slipped down on it slowly for the benefit of both of them. The sensation was intense with a sharp bite of pain, and he stopped halfway, breathing deep.

  “You all right?” Rich asked, concern etched on his face.

  “More than,” Olly mumbled and pushed down more. “How does it feel?”

  Rich nodded. “Tight.” He laid his hands on Olly’s thighs and slid them up as far as he could.

  Olly knew what it meant. “You want me to move?” He raised himself ever so slightly.

  “Please,” Rich said, digging his finger into Olly’s hips.

  Olly began riding Rich’s shaft at a leisurely pace, but gradually the tempo picked up. His cock bounced around till Rich made a grab for it and tugged it to the rhythm of their coupling. Judging from his hand technique, Rich was an expert in self-pleasuring. They came almost together, Rich slightly ahead. The heat started to spread from Olly’s groin as soon as he saw Rich’s face twist in ecstasy. Olly took back his own cock, and a few jerks later, his jiz shot in a triumphant arc, splashing down on Rich’s chest.

  Feeling Rich going soft inside him, Olly lifted carefully. He peeled the condom off and took it with him to the bathroom to flush it down. He cleaned up quickly and scurried back to the bedroom.

  Rich lay on the bed much as he had before they did the deed, but this time he had his arm over his eyes. He didn’t move when Olly climbed onto the bed.

  “Are you freaking out?” Olly asked, assessing the situation and remembering the aftermath of their last hook-up.

  Rich bobbed his head, indicating yes.

  “How bad?”

  Rich jerked his shoulder.

  Olly wasn’t about to give up. “As bad as last time?”

  After a moment, Rich moved his head back and forth. It was a no.

  Olly weighed his options and decided against a pep talk. “Tell me about your father.”

  “Huh?” Rich turned his head, lifted his arm and looked straight at Olly. “Why?”

  “Why not? Something to chat about. What was he like when you were growing up?”

  “Hm. Demanding, hard to please, stern.” Rich pulled a face. “He valued success above all, and measured success in money. He had quite a contempt for everyone who couldn’t pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. Quite the irony, considering he was up to his ears in debt when he died.”

  “He didn’t happen to be homophobic, did he?”

  “Maybe a touch.” Rich’s words were swimming in sarcasm.

  Just as Olly suspected. No surprise Rich was so messed up.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Rich added. “And I’m not saying you’re wrong. I spent my whole life living by his rules, trying to get his approval, so maybe one day he’d say good job, son. I lost my job defending his fucking reputation and used every last fucking penny I had to replace the money he’d borrowed from his clients. Guess how many visitors he had in the hospital? Three! Sandy and me, and Martin from the firm came once. But I was there every goddamn day. Do you think he said as much as a lousy fucking thank you? You know what his last words were to me? ‘Change the channel, Richard.’ Change the fucking channel! So yes, you’re right, I’m fucked in the head.”

  “I’m sorry. I think I understand. Kind of.” At least he was trying. “How did he die?”

  Rich barked a bitter laugh. “That’s the fucking kicker. Prostate cancer. Father wasn’t someone who’d let anyone stick a finger up his ass, not even his doctor. The cancer ate away his hips before they caught it. He had only months left.”

  “I hope you get checked. It can be hereditary,” Olly said with concern.

  “Shit, of course I do. But it’s the most uncomfortable, awkward thing in the world. At least for me.”

  “Me too, trust me. There’s nothing sexy about being probed by the proctologist. It’s not even remotely like getting a good rogering.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “What, having a cock up your ass?”

  Rich shook his head seemingly in exasperation, but a smile played on his lips. “For someone so innocent looking, you have a dirty mouth.”

  “Yeah, you know, it’s best to call things what they are. And yes, it hurts.”

  “Then why do it?”

  Olly was happy to explain. “For the same reason some people love spicy food—it hurts so good. You should try it sometime. I’m not the least toppy, but I have toys—I can help you explore your hidden desires.”

  “No, thanks, I’m not interested.” Rich scratched his beard.

  The gesture was familiar, and suddenly Olly knew what it meant. “You’re a very good liar, but you have a tell.”

  “I do?”

  “Yeah, you scratch your face right here.” Olly touched the curve of Rich’s jaw, right under the ear. “You did it several times when talking to old Willard, and also when you told us about finding the photo in the trash. You lied to us! I knew something was off.”

  “You’re imagining things.” Rich’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t touch the beard.

  “Am I? You know it wouldn’t be hard to find out if it’s really trash day on Kane’s street. Or even better, let Detective Cooper find it out.”

  Olly sat up, but Rich clasped his arm. “No, wait. I’ll tell you what really happened.”

  “I’m all ears.” Olly slumped back down and watched Rich like a hawk for suspicious signs, while Rich spun a tale about finding the photo in Chester Kane’s kitchen and finding Chester Kane in the next room, dead with a gash at the back of his head. Rich also admitted lifting an envelope with Sandy’s last name on it.

  “I swear this is the truth, and the whole truth, as I know it,” Rich said in closing.

  “Swear on your dick.”

  Rich rolled his eyes but laid one hand over his junk, another over his heart. “I swear on my cock and balls, I’ve told you the truth. And may they shrivel up and fall off if I lied.”

  “I guess it’ll do.” Olly frowned. “Did you say there were more envelopes on the desk?”

  “A whole stack of them.”

  “Why did you only take the one?”

  “It didn’t seem like a good idea.”

  Olly was nonplussed. “Because breaking and entering, not reporting a homicide and then lying about it to the police are good ideas? I think they’re called obstructing justice or something.”

  “You sound like my sister,” Rich grumbled.

  “Yeah, and I’m starting to understand why she keeps calling you an idiot. Oh gawd, now I’m an accessory.”

  “Nobody has to know what I told you.”

  “Unless they ask,” Olly pointed out.

  “Oh yeah, you can’t lie for shit,” Rich agreed.

  “You make it sound like a bad thing. I can’t go to prison. You know what happens to pretty young things like me there.” Yeah, okay, Olly was hamming it up a little.

  Rich chuckled. “I have a feeling you’d do all right, have the toughest, meanest motherfucker wrapped around your little pinky.”

  “You’re not funny.” Olly thought about it. “Okay, maybe a little funny. But I still don’t like this.”

  Rich put a hand on Olly’s naked hip. It was a small but intimate gesture. “All right, how about this: you sit on this for just a little longer, and tomorrow evening I’ll ride my bike over to the Glendale police and tell them everything.”

  “Why in the evening?”

  “Because I need to move Sandy’s furniture from storage to the house first. If they throw my ass in the slammer, I want to make sure she’s comfortable.”

  “You take this brotherly stu
ff very seriously.”

  “I haven’t always been the best brother, so I’m trying to make up for it.” Rich drew circles on Olly’s skin with his fingertips. It was very distracting.

  “I’d help, but I have work tomorrow.”

  “It’s fine. I can manage.”

  “Go to a hardware store—there are usually men there to hire for day labor. They have a spot at the far end of the parking spot. You’ll need to rent a truck first, of course.”

  “Stop being so damn practical,” Rich said and pushed Olly back onto the mattress.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rich stealing out of bed woke Olly the next morning. First the mattress dipped, then Olly heard the door open and close, and a minute later, the toilet flush down the hall. He opened his eyes to a crack and saw Rich come back through the door in jeans, shirtless, and felt a sting of worry. Was Rich having another attack of the I’m-not-gays? “Are you going somewhere?” he asked warily.

  Rich found his shirt and shrugged into it. “Yes. I have a busy day ahead.”

  Olly glanced at the alarm clock. “It’s six a.m.”

  “The sooner I get started, the sooner I can turn myself in, right?”

  Olly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up. He decided on a full-frontal approach to his fears and Rich. “You sure you’re not having a post-gay-fuck attack of self-loathing and identity crisis?”

  Rich stopped tucking his shirt into his jeans, clapped his eyes on Olly and said, “I’m too handsome to self-loathe.” Pure rubbish, Olly suspected, but the fact Rich had a sense of humor about him was a good sign.

  “Uh-huh, and modest too. Don’t tuck your shirt in—it makes you look like a dork. Come here.” Olly pushed himself up to his knees at the foot of the bed and let the blanket fall and reveal his naked splendor. He wanted to know how Rich would react.

  Rich didn’t move right away. His gazed dropped from Olly’s face to the family jewels, then it traveled back up. Their eyes locked, Rich stepped forward and put his arms around Olly in a way so his hands landed on Olly’s butt cheeks. He held them firm. At the same time, he pressed his lips to Olly’s. It was a meeting of lips, no tongues, and it made sense in the context of morning breath. Rich let go. “We’ll have to explore my identity crisis in depth later. For now, I have to go.”