by Alexa Land
That made him duck his head shyly. He hid beneath a cascade of curls as he found his shorts and pulled a packet of lube and a tissue from his pocket. But then he tossed his hair back and met my gaze as he slicked my hard-on and worked some lube into himself. When I grinned, he did, too. Cole wiped his hand quickly, and then he gripped my cock and straddled me. As he lowered himself slowly, that little grin turned wicked. Just as the tip of my cock pressed against his tight hole, the phone screen powered off, and we were once again in total darkness.
He moaned softly as his body opened up for me. I listened to his quick breathing as my hands ran up his thighs. He took a couple inches, then pulled almost all the way off before driving himself down on me. His ass was so warm and tight, and my cock throbbed inside him as pleasure flooded my senses.
He rode me as I jerked him off, and I braced my feet on the blanket and thrust up into him. Since I couldn’t see him, I felt for him instead and watched him that way. With my free hand, I caressed his arm and shoulder and felt the strong muscles working under his skin, and when I reached up to touch his face and found his lips, he sucked my finger.
After a few minutes, he cried out and grasped my shoulders. As his ass clamped down on my cock, I felt his cum spattering onto my chest and stomach. That pushed me right over the edge, and I grunted as I came, clutching his twitching cock as I shot into him again and again.
Finally, when we were both spent and sweaty and panting, Cole stretched out on top of me and kissed my chest. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and once we caught our breath, he whispered, “To answer your earlier question, right now I’m exactly where I belong.”
I grinned and said, “That’s so corny, and I love you for it.”
Cole stretched up and kissed me, then said as he nuzzled my cheek, “Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to make a big deal of it.”
“I promise.”
“Are you crossing your fingers in the dark?”
“Nope. Here’s proof.” I took his face between my hands and kissed him again.
He snuggled against me and said, “Okay. Well…a couple years ago, I started writing again.”
“Wow, that’s so fantastic!”
Cole chuckled at that. “You failed at not making a big deal of it in record time.”
“I know. That’s such great news, though.”
“Thought you’d like it.”
“What made you start again, after all that time?”
“You did. When I fell in love with you, it stirred up something in me.”
“I had no idea you were writing when we were together before.”
“I know. I always hid it from you. From everyone, actually. It was something I just did for me, as both a creative outlet and a form of therapy. I wrote fiction during the happy times and filled a dozen journals when I needed to work through my feelings after we broke up. Later on, I burned those journals, as a way of letting go of some of that hurt.” I held him a little tighter, and after a moment, he said, “Do you think…I mean, you don’t have to, but do you think you might want to read one of my short stories someday?”
“God yes. I’m honored that you’d trust me with your writing.”
“I trust you with every part of me. That’s why I realized it was kind of dumb to hide this from you.” He shifted around a bit and said, “Just so you know, I’m going to have a whole list of demands you’ll have to agree to before I let you read anything. To say I’m self-conscious about my writing is putting it mildly. So, you’re not allowed to gush, or pretend it’s good when it isn’t, or any of that. I need your honest feedback.”
“I can do that.”
After a moment, he said, “It’s good that you know now. Keeping it from you never felt right.”
“I’m so glad you told me.” When I felt him shiver a bit, I kissed the top of his head and said, “We should get dressed and join our friends. I wonder if they ever got that bonfire lit.”
“I hope so.” Cole sat up and felt around for his phone. When the screen lit up in his hand, he smiled at me and said, “I could eat a dozen s’mores right about now.”
*****
The bonfire was raging when we got back to the house, and our friends were totally proud of themselves. “I never built a fire before,” Quinn said. “I feel like a caveman, Homo erectus. I don’t actually know if they had fire, but I never pass up a chance to work Homo erectus into a conversation.” He’d layered a huge Christmas sweater over his romper, which was dotted with dozens of working lights and featured a cartoon of Santa making out with an elf. Never mind that it was July, or that the sweater was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen.
“Pull up a saber and toast yourself some marshmallows,” Brian called from the other side of the towering inferno, where he and his husband were sharing a lounge chair. “Quinn already ate a whole bag of them by himself, but fortunately, he bought seventeen more bags when we were at the grocery store. That literally happened.”
“Three bags of marshmallows apiece,” Quinn said. “That’s perfectly reasonable.”
I grinned and said, as Cole spread out the blanket beside the fire pit, “Of course it is. Now, by saber, you mean….”
Ash produced a long, thin blade with a flourish and told me, “Technically, I think it’s called a foil, the kind they use in fencing. Turns out, it’s perfect for toasting marshmallows. You can get, like, twenty of them on here.”
I took the foil gingerly when he held it out to me and said, “Great. Um, why do you have this?”
“We found it in the bungalow,” Ash said, “along with a Velvet Elvis painting, a collection of vintage creamed corn cans, a pair of eight-inch-high white platform shoes that Quinn’s totally going to steal if we don’t keep an eye on him, and a taxidermied ferret. Or possibly a weasel.”
“The stuffed weasel made me cry,” Quinn said. “Brian had to hide it from me.”
Brian took a drink from a bottle of soda and told us, “Nobody start the oven. I’m just saying.”
Hunter chimed in, “Whoever owns this place is a total kook.”
“All of this might possibly explain why a house right on the beach was only fifty bucks a night,” I said as I stabbed a few marshmallows with the tip of the weapon. Then I offered the skinny sword to Cole and asked, “Want to do the honors?” He held the fluffy confections several inches from the raging bonfire, but they immediately burst into flames anyway. The sound of his laughter made me so happy.
*****
Later that night, Cole and I curled up in the loft of the tiny house, which was lit by the warm glow of a dozen candles. He murmured, “It already feels like home, don’t you think?”
“It does.”
After a pause, he whispered, “I really needed this good day today, on the heels of those absolutely terrible ones. Thank you for taking me to the beach.”
“I’m glad I got to do this for you.” I gently caressed his cheek, being careful to avoid the big bruise.
“Gram would have loved this house. I want to hang her oil painting of the sunflowers right beside the front door if that’s alright, so she’ll always be a part of this place.”
“That’s perfect.”
He hesitated, and then he asked shyly, “Would you like me to read you one of my stories? I have a couple on my phone.”
“I’d love that.”
Cole put on his glasses, and I propped us up with a couple more pillows. As he curled up with his head on my chest and scrolled through his phone, he said, “Okay, so don’t expect much. And don’t forget what I told you about gushing, or pretending it’s fabulous if it’s actually a steaming crap pile. Lately, I’ve been focusing on science fiction, just because it’s a lot of fun to write. This story’s probably pretty cheesy, but I had a good time with it.” I wrapped my arms around him as he began to read. I wasn’t surprised at all when his writing proved to be as brilliant as my amazing boyfriend.
Chapter Seventeen
Two Months Later
“O
h man, our tiny house is going to plunge to its death,” Cole said as he covered his glasses with both hands.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” God, I hoped that was true. I put my arm around his shoulders and braced myself. Twenty feet overhead, our home swayed and began to rotate as it hung from a giant crane. The trio of construction workers on the ground started swearing as they tugged the guide ropes and tried to steady it.
For the last few weeks, we’d moved our little home from location to location. We’d spent some time in one friend’s driveway, then another’s, and we’d even tucked it into my brother’s warehouse for a while, until the heat and noise drove us out. After that, we ran out of options, and I started to worry we were going to have to sell it after all.
But then Nana Dombruso came to our rescue. When she found out what was going on, she’d offered us a corner of her backyard, rent-free. The yard was enormous by San Francisco standards, not only because Nana’s Queen Anne Victorian had been built on a double lot, but because her ex-husband had bought and demolished the house next door several decades ago, just because he didn’t like the look of it.
We both thanked her like crazy and told her we’d be out of her way just as soon as we came up with a permanent solution, but she’d said, “Nonsense! You’re both family, and I expect you to stay as long as you’d like. I’m hoping you stay forever.”
She immediately hired a contractor, who cleared out some bushes, built a foundation, and ran plumbing and electricity to the nice, private corner at the very back of her parklike yard. Even after making room for our home, the spot was still overflowing with beautiful plants and flowers, and it was right beside a huge, ancient oak that held a gorgeous treehouse. The setting was magical, like something out of a storybook.
The only issue was getting the little house into the yard. Even if we’d removed part of the fence and tried to access the spot from the back alley, there was just no way to bring it in at the right angle. But then Nana had an idea and rented a crane truck to try to lower the house into place. It had seemed like the perfect solution, but the crane operator had to lift it really high to clear a bunch of trees and powerlines, and in the process of doing that, the house began to twist and sway in a way that seemed to alarm the contractor and his crew. Watching our precious home twisting around high overhead nearly made my heart stop.
My boyfriend muttered, “I can’t watch,” as he buried his face in my shoulder.
I wrapped my arms around him and said, “The people Nana hired are professionals. They’re not going to let anything happen to our home.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt, and I hoped I was telling the truth, though actually, I had no idea where she’d found the team of big, Italian-American construction workers. I’d assumed they were seasoned pros, but what proof did I have of that, besides the fact that they owned hardhats?
Cole said, “I don’t mean to be a total pessimist, but is it too late to get your apartment back, if God forbid they break our house?”
“It is. Quinn should have finished moving out yesterday, and the landlord has already rented it to someone else. But this is going to be okay.”
After we’d decided to move in together and live in the tiny house, we’d given our roommates nearly two months’ notice so they’d have plenty of time to replace us. They’d decided the easiest thing would be for Quinn to give up our apartment and move into Duke’s duplex, since both men needed a roommate and neither wanted to live with a complete stranger. Even though Quinn told me a million times that he was going to miss being my roommate, he seemed excited about the prospect of moving into a much bigger room for less rent in a better location. I just hoped the odd couple didn’t end up killing each other.
The house teetered a bit, and when I whispered, “Oh shit,” Cole whipped his head around to see what was happening.
But a minute later, the work crew got it all under control. The house stabilized as they tugged on the guide ropes, and the crane operator went back to slowly lowering the house onto its foundation. When it touched down, everyone cheered, but no one louder than Cole and me.
While one of the workers unfastened the huge straps that had secured the house to the crane, the other two went to work bolting the base of the house onto its foundation. Even though part of the appeal of tiny houses was that they could be trailered and moved easily, we lived in earthquake country and wanted to keep ourselves and our house safe. It could easily be unbolted if we ever decided we wanted to relocate, but after seeing what it took to get it into the yard, I murmured, “I don’t think we’re ever getting our home back out of here.”
“That’s fine,” Cole said. “Nana said we could stay here forever, and that’s exactly what I want to do.” I smiled at him and kissed his cheek.
Nana and her husband Ollie rushed up to us a moment later, holding an enormous gift basket between them. She’d been fascinated with the crane truck, so they’d been watching the goings on from out in the street, so she could see exactly how everything worked. They thrust the basket into our hands as Nana exclaimed, “Welcome home, boys! We got you a little housewarming present to mark the occasion!”
“Thank you, Nana,” Cole said as he shifted the basket in his arms and peered at her around the mass of cellophane and rainbow-colored ribbons. “You didn’t have to do that, though. You’ve already done so much by letting us put our house on your property.”
She waved her hand dismissively and said, “That was nothing. All this corner ever did for me was hold a couple bushes, and now they have a nice new spot on the other side of the yard.”
I gave her a hug and said, “We appreciate this so much, Nana.”
When I let go of her, she grinned at us and said, “You’re good boys, both of you. Now, Ollie and I gotta get going! Our guests are going to start arriving at the party, and we need to be there! I know you’ll want to get settled, but don’t take too long, you hear? You’ve both been working hard, and you need some time to relax!”
I’d placed an ad in a local LGBT+ newspaper the month before, and ever since then, our catering company had been seeing a steady increase in business. We had two parties to cater over that long, Labor Day weekend, but we were taking Friday off. Nana had rented the Fourth of July beach house for three days, as an end of summer treat for the kids who lived with her, and she’d decided to kick things off with a big party for all her friends and family. Nana never passed up an opportunity to celebrate.
She rushed off in the direction of her house, and Ollie said, “See you soon, boys. By the way, my wife took her hairdresser friend Mr. Mario with her to go shopping for things to fill that gift basket. I’m not entirely sure what all that stuff’s used for, so just in case you don’t know either, maybe you can give him a call. Or, you know, just have fun figuring it out for yourself.” He winked at us and took off after Nana.
Cole hoisted the basket up to eye level and peered through the double-thickness of cellophane, and then he exclaimed, “Holy shit, I think this is full of sex toys!”
I burst out laughing and said, “God bless Nana Dombruso.”
A few minutes later, one of the construction workers called, “The house is secure on its foundation, so you can go inside if you want. Looks like the staircase is just about ready to go, too. It’s just going to take us another hour or so to get the water and power hooked up.”
Skye had made us a beautiful set of metal steps with a seashell motif, which were as artistic as they were functional. When the workers finished securing them to the front of the house, I climbed up and unlocked the door. Cole started to follow me with the gift basket, but I said, “Hang on a minute.”
I propped the door open and jogged back down the steps, and when I scooped him up in my arms, Cole laughed and exclaimed, “What are you doing?”
“I’m carrying you and forty pounds of sex toys over the threshold of our new home,” I told him with a grin. “I know we’ve already been living in it for a couple months, but now that our home has a ho
me, I feel like I should mark the occasion.”
I deposited him and the basket on the couch, and then I jogged back outside and brought in a box of items Cole had collected at Gram’s house. I hung her little painting of sunflowers on a hook beside the front door and put her favorite coffee mug on the shelf above the sink, and then I joined my boyfriend on the sofa. Sunshine filtered in through the skylight, and we admired the view of the huge oak, which offered just a glimpse of the pretty treehouse nestled amid its branches. “This is so nice,” Cole murmured as he snuggled against me.
“It’s perfect.”
The view from the window right behind the couch was of the wooden fence, and Cole said, “Do you think Nana would mind if I painted a mural of the beach and hung it on that blank wall outside?”
“I think she’d love it. I would, too.”
Cole kissed me and said, “Speaking of the beach, we should get going. There’s probably going to be traffic, since it’s a holiday weekend. We can wait until tonight to go through the basket of wonders.”
I smiled at him as he got up. “You seem excited about this party.”
“Oh, I am.”
“I was going to make a comment about sending summer out with a bang, but I think that’s actually happening after the party, when we get back to this gift basket.” Cole grinned and pulled me to my feet.
*****
On the way out of town, we stopped off at the commercial kitchen we were renting for our catering business and loaded a big cooler with the potluck dishes we’d made for Nana’s party. I unlocked the back of the van, and we slid the cooler beside our surfboards. I’d bought Cole a board and wetsuit soon after we returned to San Francisco, and he was becoming a great surfer. Most importantly, he was thoroughly enjoying it, which made me happy.
He was right about the traffic. It took us twice as long as it should have to reach the beach house, but it was a beautiful drive along the coast, so we didn’t mind. We pulled in behind a few other cars in the circular driveway, and Cole and I each grabbed one end of the cooler and hauled it inside.