by Anna Martin
“Ouch.”
Steve shrugged. It had been expensive, but….
“I’m not a great teacher,” he admitted. “I really don’t have the patience for it, plus GED studies are tough. Dylan’s tutor was amazing; for two days a week, she worked with him one-on-one, then for the next two days he met up with a group of other GED students at the library off Main Street.”
“I thought he didn’t get on well in an academic environment?”
“Oh, he definitely didn’t. I guess this was different—a couple of the other students were in their early twenties and the other two were young mothers who had decided not to go back to high school after having kids. They were all in the same boat. They wanted their education. I guess they bonded over that.”
“Makes sense,” Mark said, nodding. They’d already polished off the first pizza as they’d been talking, and Steve quickly moved the box to one side so he could start on the next one.
“Yeah. I’m glad he got that. For a while he was talking about quitting everything and signing up to join the Army. Not that I’m against the military at all, but it wouldn’t have been the right thing for Dylan.”
“From what you said before, he had issues with authority?”
“He had issues with everything,” Steve said with a fond smile. “I’m not so worried anymore. I’d still be devastated if he took his mechanical training and enlisted, but I don’t think he will.”
“Does he talk about it?”
“Sometimes,” Steve admitted. “But he’s more interested in moving to the coast and buying his own place.”
Mark grinned. “Sounds good to me.”
“Right?”
“You raised a good kid, then.”
“I hope so,” Steve said. He abandoned the crust of pizza in the corner of the box and grabbed a napkin, totally unable to eat any more. He was stuffed. “That’s all you can ask for, I think.”
Mark leaned over and kissed Steve lightly on the cheek. “I completely agree.”
Chapter 11
It turned out Dylan didn’t have time to see James on Sunday afternoon, and James tried not to be too disappointed. If he was honest with himself, he needed the extra time to study, so it wasn’t like he just sat on his ass, bored and pining for his boyfriend. But it was still disappointing.
Dylan had a test on Monday, and it was a pretty big deal. James sent him a good luck text first thing in the morning, then waited all day to hear how it had gone. He didn’t get a message until late afternoon, but when he checked his phone, the reply was worth it.
Aced it.
James grinned at his phone and quickly tucked it back into his pocket before Ms. Perry noticed he had a phone out in class. She was a confiscator.
As soon as the final bell rang, James dumped his books into his locker and jogged out to the parking lot. Technically, if a teacher was feeling particularly pedantic, he could get in trouble for running in the halls. But this was important. He had to go see Dylan.
James took a quick detour on his way to Dylan’s house to buy something for his birthday. He’d been turning the idea over in his head all weekend, not wanting to be disrespectful of Dylan’s assertion that he didn’t like to celebrate, but also wanting to let Dylan know he cared.
He hoped the little white box would do the job.
James knocked lightly on the Morrell’s front door, adjusting his backpack a little and shifting with anticipation.
Dylan broke into a huge smile when he opened the door.
“Hey,” James said softly.
“Hi. Come in.”
“This, uh, this is for you.” James handed him the box and pushed the door closed, already toeing off his shoes.
Dylan smiled a little and carefully peeled up the sticker before opening the lid. Then he laughed.
James had bought one of the giant cupcakes from a little bakery a few blocks from the school. In middle school they’d been his biggest weakness, before he’d put a self-imposed limit of one a month on himself. Before the limitations were imposed, he was getting chubby and didn’t want to deal with that on top of the other puberty growing pains.
So James knew how good the cupcakes were. This one was a chocolate-chip cake with mint and chocolate frosting. And sprinkles.
“Thank you,” Dylan said, leaning in and kissing James’s cheek. “You wanna split this?”
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
James followed him through to the kitchen, quietly admiring the way the muscles in Dylan’s back moved under the loose gray T-shirt he was wearing. Dylan always seemed to dress casually but always managed to look amazing. It was definitely a skill James didn’t possess.
“How was the weekend?” James asked, settling onto a stool at the island while Dylan found a knife to split the cake. “The past two weekends, I guess.”
“Good,” he said enthusiastically. “I went out with Erin and Jacob to the aquarium and for burgers, and then on Sunday morning we went ice skating. It was good to see them. Erin is so tall, it’s crazy. Then this last weekend, I caught up with some people I got to know when I was studying for my GED. And I had that test to prep for. I missed you, though.”
Dylan brought the box over and set it between them.
“How about you? How was the party?”
“I missed you too,” James said before swooping some frosting on his finger and licking it off. “The party turned out to be a total bummer, so I left early. It’s weird not seeing you for two weekends in a row.”
“Yeah, it sucks,” Dylan said sympathetically. “And this cake is awesome, thank you.”
“I guessed even if you didn’t want a birthday cake, Monday afternoon cake is always a good thing.”
“Oh, I agree.”
James grinned. “I can get out of your way if you have stuff you need to do.”
“No, not at all. Nothing more important than hanging out with you, anyway.”
James laughed. “That’s nice.”
“Do you have homework? We can just hang out in my room for a while if you want to get that done.”
“It’s not much,” James said.
“If you get it done now, we can make out until you have to leave.”
James nudged his shoulder against Dylan’s and laughed. “Now that’s what I call motivation.”
It really didn’t take long for James to work through his English assignment. All he had to do was put together an argument about the influence of King Hamlet’s ghost in Hamlet. He’d liked the play well enough and actually had an opinion on the topic, so it wasn’t much of a chore.
“Done,” James said and flipped Dylan’s laptop closed. He’d already emailed the document to himself and hadn’t even used the opportunity to check out Dylan’s porn browsing history.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll do another edit tomorrow before I hand it in, but the bulk of it is there.”
“Good boy,” Dylan said, teasing.
“I think I was promised a reward?” James said, leaning in for a kiss.
Since Dylan didn’t have a desk, they’d set up on Dylan’s bed, James happily leaning against the headboard as he worked. Dylan had been reading his own course material, occasionally making notes in the margins.
Dylan put his book down on the floor, took his laptop from James, and carefully set it aside. Then he nudged James onto his back.
James went easily, spreading his legs a little so Dylan could get one knee between them for leverage. He pushed his fingers into Dylan’s hair and hummed against Dylan’s lips, not waiting patiently for Dylan to kiss him. He wanted to be kissed, goddammit.
Dylan was a really, good kisser. He seemed to always let James set the pace, taking it slow and easy as their lips moved against each other. James always felt like Dylan was holding back, though, not letting go and giving James what he was unsubtly hinting at.
“Okay,” James said as he pulled away. Dylan started kissing at his neck. T
hat wasn’t helping James’s mental function. “Dylan, I like that you’re not pressuring me for sex and stuff.”
“Okay,” Dylan said with his face pressed against James’s neck, clearly at least a little amused.
“But I wanna have sex and stuff. Like… I really want to. And I thought you should know that.”
Dylan rolled onto his side, putting space between them. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. It doesn’t have to be all-out full-on sex, like right now,” James continued, not sure if he’d made his point yet. “We can just do stuff together that gets us off, you know? And sex can come later.”
“Okay.”
“And while we’re talking about sex—”
“Technically, James, you’re talking about sex.”
“Right. Right. So I want to get it out there that I’m not sure about butt stuff. In terms of you doing butt stuff to me. I mean, we can try it, sure, but I’m not convinced I want stuff—you know—up my butt.”
“Got it.”
“Okay.”
Dylan didn’t say anything else. James waited for a response but… nothing.
“Okay, I need you to say more than that,” James said in a rush.
Dylan dissolved into giggles, pressing his face to James’s shoulder. He didn’t laugh like this much, and it did seem to be at James’s expense more often than not. James didn’t really mind—making Dylan laugh was a nice feeling.
“Are you laughing at me?” James demanded.
“I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met,” Dylan said. “Maybe apart from my dad.”
“Thanks?”
“James, this should go without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway. I’m never going to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. When it comes to butt stuff… I’m a fan, both ways. So don’t freak out thinking we’re not compatible or some shit, okay?”
“Both ways?”
Dylan smiled and pushed James’s hair back. “Yeah. Both ways.”
“So… I could… to you?”
“If you can’t say it, you can’t do it.” Dylan leaned in and nuzzled at James’s neck.
“I could fuck you.” James tipped his head back to give Dylan better access. If he were standing up, his knees would be going weak; as it was, he had to grip Dylan’s shoulders to ground himself.
“That is definitely a possibility. Yes.”
“Can we…? I want….”
He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted. More. That would be a good place to start. Dylan was probably leaving marks as he worked over the sensitive skin between James’s ear and shoulder, kissing and nipping and gently nudging at James’s jaw with his nose.
With one swift motion, Dylan pulled off his T-shirt and reached for James’s.
“Take this off.”
“Yep, sure, no problem.” James struggled out of it, determined not to be self-conscious. Dylan did a physical job all day every day. Of course he had holy biceps, Batman, and hair on his chest and little brown nipples that were already pebbled and hard.
Dylan gently pinned James to the bed and looked at him for a moment. He blinked, his dark eyes too close, too questioning, and James leaned up to kiss him before they could struggle with words.
They were good at this now. James trusted Dylan completely, sinking back against the bed and letting Dylan take control of their kisses. Taking it slow had very strong advantages, as far as James could see. Now they were right on the edge of sex, and he knew it was going to be good, every one of his instincts knew that, because of how amazing every other part of being with Dylan had been.
“James,” Dylan murmured, hiding his face in James’s neck.
James pushed his fingers into Dylan’s dark hair, holding him in place as Dylan mouthed at his neck, then down to lick and nibble at James’s nipples.
The low, insistent throbbing in his cock got relief from the slow push up against Dylan’s hips, gently grinding their erections together. That in itself was a thrill—Dylan was hard too.
Not getting off from this was becoming less and less of an option. James was sure he’d never been this turned on before.
“I wanna come,” James breathed against Dylan’s cheek.
“Fuck. Yeah. Me too.”
James reached down and, with shaking fingers, unthreaded the buttons at the fly of Dylan’s jeans, then unzipped his own. It was instinctive to slide his hand inside his boxers, grabbing hold of his cock and squeezing.
Dylan rolled onto his side and James went with him, getting comfy in a position where they could still kiss. James wasn’t sure where this was going exactly, then Dylan echoed James’s position and reached for his own cock.
Oh.
This felt right, a way for them to have sex without pushing anything too far the first time. James was very, very good at jerking off. He had a lot of practice. Doing it while kissing—while kissing Dylan—only made it better.
Dylan was either left handed or ambidextrous, because both of them lying on their sides was working out just great. Before he started racing toward an inevitable conclusion, James shucked his jeans down lower, pulling his cock all the way out from his boxers. Dylan grinned, licked into James’s mouth, and when James pulled away to look, Dylan had done the same thing.
The sight of Dylan jerking himself off was possibly hotter than any porn James had ever seen. He pressed his forehead against Dylan’s, breathing hard, and moaned as his orgasm shook through his body. He managed to catch most of his come in his hand, but a little got on the sheets.
Then Dylan went right ahead and just came everywhere between them, some of it landing on James’s bare stomach.
“Fuck,” James murmured, in awe at the sight.
Dylan laughed as he collapsed forward, still gripping his cock in his hand. James kissed his cheek, then up to his hairline, which was a little damp with sweat.
“Here,” Dylan said, reaching over James to grab his shirt. He cleaned off James’s belly first, then wiped his hand before handing it to James to finish cleaning himself up and tucking everything away again.
James wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. He didn’t want to pack right up and go; that seemed rude. And they weren’t doing an awkward hookup thing, so he didn’t have to come and run.
Dylan took care of that for him, ushering James into his arms as he rolled onto his back. James found a very comfortable spot with his head on Dylan’s shoulder and Dylan’s arm around his back, holding him close.
They were cuddling, and that was definitely a new experience. A welcome one.
James gently petted the hair on Dylan’s chest, running his fingertips through it and smoothing it all into place. Dylan didn’t seem to mind. He kissed the top of James’s head and sighed deeply. James decided it was a good sigh.
“James?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you have a nickname?” Dylan asked. “Calling you James all the time seems… I don’t know. Formal.”
“Not really.” James pressed his hand flat to Dylan’s chest, testing out how well he could feel Dylan’s heartbeat like this. “My mom called me Jamie for a while when I was a kid, but then we were Jamie and Frankie and that was just too ‘cute.’ Frankie sometimes calls me Jay. Then I call her Frank.”
Dylan huffed a laugh. “Jay is nice.”
James hummed. “You can call me that if you like. I don’t mind.”
“Okay. Let me try it out, see if it suits you.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Chapter 12
There were a few occasions throughout the year when the Forest Heights community got together. Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Memorial Day weekend, and St. Patrick’s Day.
For reasons no one in the county could really explain, there was always a big baseball tournament held between the four schools in the district to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Maybe it had something to do with the date usually falling a few weeks before the start of the season and it was a good p
reseason warm-up; Steve didn’t know, and neither did anyone else he’d asked. It was a tradition that dated back decades, one of those things that became entrenched in a community and remained unquestioned.
The baseball games all happened at the Forest Heights High stadium because it was next to the lake, meaning people who didn’t want to watch the game could lay out a blanket and have a picnic. With Dylan being a huge baseball fan, there was never any real chance of Steve kicking back with some fried chicken from a bucket.
Personally, he’d always been more interested in football than baseball. Dylan had been a huge fan since he was a kid, though, and baseball was one of the things that had helped them bond when Dylan first moved in. When Steve realized Dylan opened up about ten times more when he was watching a game, he knew there was going to be a lot more of them in his future.
Not being able to play for his school’s team was one of the biggest downsides of homeschooling Dylan through his GED. There were a few local leagues and one homeschool group that played, but Dylan hadn’t been interested in those, not when the kids who had tortured him out of mainstream education all had parents or cousins or siblings in those teams.
Instead, Dylan had found his stride coaching with Little League.
He’d only been coaching for a few years now, having started as an assistant coach when he was sixteen. Steve had been amazed at how open Dylan was with the kids. When he was combative and aggressive with everyone else, Dylan became patient and kind and encouraging around little kids. Steve hadn’t ever pushed, never wanted to step too far into Dylan’s world. Plus, watching Little League games was even more torturous than watching major league games.
For St. Patrick’s Day this year, with a lot of pressure from Dylan, there was a Little League game in the morning before the high school games started. It meant Dylan was up and out of the house early, which was almost unheard of for a weekend, and Steve got a blessed extra few hours in bed since Dylan had banned Steve from going. Having Steve around made him nervous.