Bird came down

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT WE CONCLUDE CHAPTER TEN OF BIRD CAME DOWN


Scott was standing beside him when everyone has gone, when Joey had led the kids away, Scott murmured over the open grave: “We are so different.”
“You from me?”
“No,” Scott shook his head. “Both of, at this moment, from what we were when we first met again.”
“I think I’ve been a bad man because I’ve been a bad Christian,” Felix said. “I think I would like to come back to Saint Casimir’s with you. I think I looked for God but I was never anywhere that was quiet enough to let him in. Margaret’s is nice. It’s very social. But there is something missing. It’s soulless… Or maybe I’m soulless when I’m in it. I don’t know. But I think I have to leave. Find something for myself.”
Scott slipped his hand into Felix’s.
“I’ll go anywhere and do anything you want me to do,” he said.

“Fuck me!” he says, “Ah, God, fuck me!”
He says it so tenderly in the bed that tonight is their bed. Scott presses his ass to bring Felix deeper into him, reaches behind to press Felix’s ass, tightens on him, grinding himself.
“Fuck me like you did that first time... When we didn’t expect it... Ahh... God. Ah... Felix ... Ayyy....”
So quiet, in the dark.
All sex is the same in the end. It is the journey to the end that is different. The lovemaking, the fucking, is just as much about how they got to this point as that moment itself, bodies together.
That night, after they both shower, Scott sits in the window ledge, naked, sure no one can see, but also not really caring. He sits there, legs open, and Felix, coming out of the bathroom, comes to him immediately, goes to his knees, takes him in his mouth. Is he surprised? Are either of them. Hard to say. It doesn’t matter. After so many days of feeling dead, feeling alive right now, growing firmer, harder, Scott takes Felix’s head and is fucking his face.
In the end, standing up and taking him by the hand, Scott leads Felix to the bed, not begging, just climbing into the bed, just covering him with hungry kisses and the hot warmth of his body, and awakening in Felix a passion he did not know he felt, taking his penis in his mouth. In just a few moments, their bodies work together and now Scott is riding him.
Scott is still a surprise of tightness, of deep, deep, shocking, electrifying, hands pressing on Felix’s chest, moving down his chest to his stomach, moving to make his hips buck, taking Felix’s hands in his and moving them up his own chest, white in the night, and then touching his own chest, massaging his own cock, coming down so that Felix’s hands can plant themselves in his tawny hair that is dark in the night. He is so beautiful and skilled this way, so full of the same heat that is in Felix, both of their voices catching. Scott is arching his back, opening his mouth, planting his hands behind him, on either side of Felix, opening his mouth in swears and promises of love, whisper moaning:
“Fuuuuuccck—”
As he comes, he cuts himself off with the spurt of semen shooting all up Felix’s stomach, a trail on his chest, speckles under his chin.


Felix woke up when Scott, rising from the bed, made the mattress shift, and he sensed Scott padding to the bathroom. He listened to him pissing, and he could feel the sunlight coming weakly through the blinds.
When Scott returned he wrapped an arm around Felix and Felix could smell the subtle scent of his armpits.
“So what was that you said about Catholics being better than Protestants?”
“Excuse me?”
“At the funeral you said that you could pray at Saint Casimir’s and you couldn’t at your church. You said something about soullessness.”
“Did I?” Felix murmured. “My mouth is dry.”
“Are you evading?”
“No. My eyes are gummy and my mouth is dry.”
The bed heaved as Scott got up again and a moment later, after the sound of the spray of water and shuffling in the cupboards, he returned and set a glass of water on the bureau.
“I like your penis,” Felix said.
“What?”
“I do.”
He drank from the water glass, and then Scott drank too, and they fell back into bed.
“What do you like about it?”
“It just is. I think I like how it’s not covered up. How it’s just a part of you and… I don’t know. I just like all of you. Uncovered. With me.”
Scott licked the back of Felix’s neck and pressed his face into it.
“And no, I haven’t forgotten what I said,” Felix said. “Only, when I was growing up I felt very out of step with other Catholics, and we were half and half and then Valerie went to seminary and I didn’t want much to do with churches at all. After she got ordained I made Saint Margaret’s a home, and it is in it’s own way. But nothing happens to my soul there.”
“And something happened at Casimir’s?”
“Yes. But possibly because it was a funeral.”
“Are you reneging?”
“I’m being honest,” Felix said. “I’ve always tried to be honest, but there is a fuzzy line between being a Christian with a liberal lean on things and being a hypocrite. I don’t like fuzzy lines, really. And if the truth be known, I don’t think I like church.”
“I really liked your church,” Scott said. “It made me want to go to church again, and now you’re saying…?”
“I’m saying there are better things for us to talk about than church. I don’t know. I know I want something. Something like God, Something’s got to change. Something has changed.”
“A lot has changed.”
“I couldn’t keep being the person I was. Nothing was happening to me.”
“Too much was happening to me,” Scott said.
He wrapped his arms tighter around Felix, and pressed his cheek against his spine.
“Do you really believe in God? I mean really?”
“I do. Why do you ask?”
“Because the way we met again. Everything that happened… I really, really do believe that’s a miracle. I really believe only God could have done that. I know God gave me to you.”
“Now you’re being sentimental.”
“God looked down and saw what a mess I was, and he gave me to you, and I’m grateful for that. I think I’d have liver disease or something otherwise. I was so close to being a real mess. I actually was a mess. And now I know I won’t be.”
“Well, I needed you too,” Felix said. “It isn’t a one way street.”
“I know,” Scott said. “I could lie and pretend I don’t, but I know you needed me. I know that. I know we are better than you and me. If that makes sense.”
“Must we work today?” Felix asked.
“No,” Scott said. “We mustn’t. I will take off.
“Today is the last day I will let my folks do my job in taking care of my kids. Today I’m going to pick them up from school and bring them to their home, and we’re going to start to make a home. But right now, this day is ours.”
He stopped and said, “I do not expect that to be your home. I do not expect you to be their new mother.”
Then Scott said, “I would hate to try to change you…”
“Which means?”
“Me and the kids are going to be here a lot.”
“True.”
“Would you ever consider getting a one bedroom?”
“It’s almost time for lease renewal,” Felix said. “But I’m not paying for something that you want.”
“Alright. Alright. How much is that one fucking room a month?”
“Sixty five more.”
“Then I’ll give you sixty-five more if we can have a bedroom when I bring over the kids.”
Felix turned over and buried his face in his pillow.
“You think I’m going to tell you no,” he said. “But I’m not.”

MORE NEXT WEEK

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great conclusion to the chapter. It sounds like Scott and Felix are starting to think about the future. It won’t be easy but I hope it works out. Excellent writing and I look forward to more next week!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I'm glad you enjoyed. Of course, this is chapter ten and so there are only a few more chapters before our story comes to an end, and now things are at a head. Decisions must be made and what those decisions will be is going to be interesting.

 

[ChrisGibson]

E L E V E N
E L E V E N




T H E
S T O R Y T E L L E R S









Theme Song: Song 2 (Woo Hoo), Blur

Elias Anderson was blessed with a gentle waking and thought of slipping back into slumber. He always slept naked, and treasured the feel of the mattress and the covers against his body. But he had to pee, no doubt about that. He climbed out of bed and opened the door to head to the little bathroom. Lance or Dylan always put on shorts or underwear to walk out of their rooms, but Elias never did, saw no need. Dylan’s room was across the hall, and the door was closed, but on the other side of it he heard the stifled moans and then the sharp outcries of morning sex. By now he knew the difference between his lovers’ cries, and though he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, he knew Lance was doing it to Dylan, and Dylan was crying out, possibly planting his hands in Lance’s hair. He pressed his ear to the door, growing a little stiff, and then the need to urinate overcame his need to listen. He came back a few minutes later just to press his ear to the door, just to hear the bed moving, to understand that someone he loved was fucking the other someone, to hear Lance cry out in shock. And then Elias thought it was best to go back to bed. He left his door cracked.
Elias had known he was in love with Dylan when he was fourteen years old. At the time Dylan had been a year older and Lance was sixteen. Part of him was in love with both of them, with the way they looked together. Once upon a time he’d seen them kissing in Dylan’s house though none of the grown ups had. Dylan had gotten up to close the door and Elias, child that he was, wanted nothing more than to open that door, to be part of them.
But Dylan and Lance had not lasted. Dylan had gone off with someone else and that hadn’t lasted either and, at last, Elias was with Dylan. Dylan wasn’t the way he was now. He was an easy target. He wanted intimacy and friendship with other boys and the only way he knew to reach it was through sex, and so he had been easy to seduce. The first time Elias had maneuvered Dylan into bed, though it had caused him pain—he was a virgin—there was a tremendous sense of triumph, of release. Above him Dylan shuddered and came, and the whole weekend he kept asking Elias if he was alright. Elias wasn’t as alright as he pretended. It hurt to shit. It hurt to wash his asshole. He hadn’t quite known how to have sex in the normal way let alone that way. But he knew he wanted Dylan. The three or four times he, with increasing difficulty, got Dylan to have sex with him it hurt at least twice until he and Dylan began to learn what they were doing. But in the end Dylan couldn’t help but feel like he was ruining a friendship, and with the sense that he was ruining Dylan, Elias had allowed things to end.
Lance was not much different. Lance was his chemistry partner, and they had hit it off and become fast friends. They’d ended up making out over chemistry books in Lance’s bedroom, and though Lance broke that off, he had still invited Elias over to stay the night. When things had happened with him Elias knew what he was doing and even though Lance was much bigger than Dylan and had refrained from having sex much longer, he could take Lance better. It was a year after that they had finally come together as a trio, and though the struggle to that was lengthy, once they had agreed on being a family, it had never been very difficult living together.
“Ohhh my God!” he heard Dylan shout from the other room.
People never understood how the three of them lived, or how it felt for Elias to be with Dylan and Lance. He knew he was loved. Under the shadow of either one of them he knew he was the cherished object of affection. To Elias Anderson what caused him inexpressible joy was the certainty that Lance and Dylan loved each other, that they were, indeed, a tightly woven three ply knot, that love existed and would exist between the two men whom he loved and who loved him. And it was that love that had drawn him to them, for he had wanted to be a part of it consciously and unconsciously since he was very young. The thought that right now both of his boys were with each other, in the aftermath of lovemaking, holding and stroking each other, laughing together, was to him the happiest thought in the world.
Aside from loving them, Elias loved the certainty of the schedule, and he loved his own space. This apartment was much like the one they’d had in Chicago. Dylan had his room, and on certain nights Lance stayed there. Elias had his room, and this was where Lance stayed on his nights. The living room, especially the television, was the six foot four inch two hundred pound Lancc Bishop’s domain. Elias prized his space and his solitude, and it was only in this relationship he could have it. Some might picture the three of them in endless sex, always sitting together, legs linked, finishing one another’s sentences, and this could happen. But for Elias what he experienced was a great freedom to be on his own, and to let the others be on their own. With couples each always had to be there. In their home you could drop out and let the other two be present for each other. Or, when one was feeling distant, needing to be distant, the other two could be fine, for a time, on their own.
He stopped thinking when he heard the door pushed open. He did not turn around. He played the guessing game. Heavy feet and longer strides said it was Lance. He pushed back the covers and climbed into bed, throwing a great arm over Elias.
“I took the open door as an invitation.”
“It was,” Elias said, turning around. “I miss you when you aren’t here. We need our nights apart, but I miss you.”
Lance said nothing. He pressed his unshaven face against Elias’s chest.
“Where is Dylan?”
“In his room where I left him. Where else would he be?”
Elias shrugged.
“I thought he’d come over.”
“Why, so we could both have you at the same time? I saw your feet under the door, you little perv. I know you were listening.”
“If you think I’m going to deny it you’re wrong.”
“You’d have to have a sense of shame to deny it, and I know you’ve never had one of those.”
“Shame is a waste,” Elias said. “We wouldn’t be here if I had it.”
“Had what?”
Elias looked up over Lance’s shoulder.
“Dylan!” Lance exclaimed lazily.
He came in wearing red Jockeys and collapsed on the bed between the wall and Elias.
“We need a bigger bed.”
“We have a bigger bed,” Elias said, “In your room. It’s always been the bed the three of us stay in together.”
“Well, I’m already here,” Dylan said, pulling a pillow from under Elias. “It’s too late for anything different to happen. I’m not getting up.”
Elias pressed his back against Dylan’s and felt Lance’s face pressed to his chest.
“Let’s not say anything,” he said. “Let’s just savor this moment.
“The only one saying anything is you,” said Dylan.
And so no one said anything for a while, but when they did, it was Elias again.
“What time do you have to be at school?”
“Twelve.”
“Will you give me a ride to my classes?”
“Sure thing.”
Elias pressed his head to Lance’s head and asked, “What about you?”
“I got in late last night. They don’t need me today.”
“You’ll just stay here?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well then can you drive both of us?” Dylan asked. “That way you can get Elias when he’s done.”
“Sure thing.”
“And we,” Elias told Lance, “can have lunch together.”
For the very first years of their relationship, Lance had been off at school and rarely around, and Elias still savored the days he had alone with him. For Elias, Dylan was the constant spouse. He had to admit he took him for granted. He expected him to always be there. Lance was something else, the icing on all that good cake. It hardly made sense. Elias had never learned to explain it either to himself or to anyone else and certainly did not voice it to his lovers.

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent start to the chapter. Nice to read from the point of view of these three again! Don’t get me wrong I love the other characters but this was a interesting change. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

It was a switch, but I missed the three of them and theirlives and voices. It's good to get back to them as this book wraps up, and yes, this book is beginning to wrap up. We've been looking at people who were sort of in chaos,and as this comes to an end, we are looking at a relationship that has come through its chaos.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“I was talking to Dad last night,” Lance said over lunch in the commissary of City College, “and he said he was going to take Dylan’s dad to upstate Michigan for a camping and hunting trip.”
“Which Dad?”
“Does it matter? It would be hilarious either way. But it was Fenn.”
“Oh my God, can you imagine Fenn with a gun?”
“Yes, actually,” Lance said. “I can imagine all the Houghtons with guns. Just not with—”
“Shotguns.”
“No! And he was telling Fenn all about the elk and the open sky and the water, and the deer running free and waking up early in the morning in a tent and the water, and so Fenn is like—well you know him—he said it sounded strangely exciting and that my dad was awakening the inner hillbilly in him.”
“Well, your dad’s always liked Fenn.”
“And Fenn has always liked him. They’re a very odd duo. Now if only our parents,” Lance pointed between himself an Elias, “could hang together.”

A few days later, Elias realized that for some reason he always seemed annoyed with Dylan. The unclean kitchen, the soap left out, the hair in the sink was always Dylan’s fault. He realized on his way to pick up Dylan that he was perpetually making a list of what to tell his boyfriend that he wasn’t doing right.
“I’m married to him.”
In a way there was something a little more married about his relationship to Dylan than to Lance. Dylan was the one he nagged.
As he pulled up to Andrews Hall and he saw Dylan coming out with his backpack over his shoulder, on time, Elias realized something in him was disappointed that he would be able to argue with Dylan for being late.
But Dylan argues with me too.
He thinks I’m too bossy. He says I’m too bossy. I put up curtains and then he comes back around and puts up shades. Everything I tell him, he disregards.
Dylan was coming to him in old faded jeans and a hoodie, and by the jeans he could see the outlines of strong thighs, athletic calves. Dylan was broad shouldered and a little on the short side. He had the compact body and the dark buzzed hair of a Marine. His face was a little square, his jaw strong. Dylan came to the door and vaulted himself into the truck.
“What?” he said, grinning with his vaguely wolfish face.
“I’m just looking at you,” Elias said.
“You’re a strange man.”
“How’s the rotation chart?”
“What?” Dylan began. Then: “You made it.”
Elias frowned and took up his briefcase, opening the sheet of paper that read:

SUNDAY Lance+Dylan
MONDAY Elias+Lance
TUESDAY Dylan+Elias
WEDNESDAY Lance+Dylan
THURSDAY Elias+Lance
FRIDAY Dylan+Elias
SATURDAY Lance+Dylan

SUNDAY Lance+Elias

“Today is Monday,” Dylan murmured leaning over so that Elias could smell his cologne, the dash of sweet Lagerfeld he always wore. “Lance stays with you tonight.”
“Well tonight hasn’t happened yet,” Elias told him. “We had lunch here, I dropped him off at the library, and I don’t pick Lance up for another two hours.”
“You wanna go back home for a bit?” Dylan was grinning.
“Yes,” Elias said, touching Dylan’s hand and watching the hair that went up his arm.
“I’m such a bitch. Why do I forget what you are? I think I pick fights with you just so I can have the pleasure of saying I fight with a beautiful man who isn’t leaving me. And I want you so bad right now.”
“You were listening to us have sex this morning.”
“Let’s not bring that up.”
“It turned me on a little. You know I’m weird. Let’s go home, baby.”
Dylan had been about to say, “Let’s go home, like when it was only us.” But even now it was like when it was only us. It was the reason it had taken so long for Dylan to enjoy the few times when all three of them made love together.
They drove home quickly, and Dylan led him by the hand into the apartment, pulling his face forward, inviting him into a world of kisses and sensual delights, taking him to his bedroom and pulling down his jeans and his underwear and taking Elias in his mouth expertly. This was the Dylan he loved. No, he loved all of Dylan, and he understood what Dylan offered here offered only for him, only for the man he was with. He had always been like this with his lovers, but right now he was like this with Elias and suddenly Elias wanted to cry.
“Baby, what?” Dylan said as they were taking off their clothes.
Elias looked up and down Dylan’s body, ran his hands over his hair, looked down his back to his perfect buttocks, so round and firm, to his back, to his gentle eyes.
“All of this?” Elias murmured. “Mine?”
“Of course it’s yours,” Dylan’s voice was a rasp as he licked his nipples, kissed his throat, took him in a wrestler’s grip and turned him around so that now Elias was between Dylan’s legs, looking up and down his thighs and calves. The only thing better than being fucked by Dylan was fucking him, was being brought into this welcoming garden of his lover’s strong hands and firm thighs, of his red lips, dark eyes, encouraging smile, the smile that had first taught him how to have sex, of the lips opening in pleasure, the voice that cried out, and the hot tightness as he entered. Whatever anyone said about the power a man felt when fucking, Elias felt guided, protected, free to let go of all that he held to so tightly as he shuttled between Dylan’s thighs, as he pressed deeper into him, as those strong arms brought him back down to earth and kept his soul from flying out of his body. He let out a high pitched cry that would have embarrassed him by its vulnerability in the presence of anyone else but Lance, and then, sighing, still held safe in Dylan’s body, he shuddered with orgasm.

That late afternoon they lay together, knowing soon it would be time to get dressed and pick up Lance. Dylan pressed himself into Elias’s arms and allowed his lover to stroke his hair.
“I’m sorry about the last week,” Elias said.
“Whaddo you mean?” Dylan turned around for a moment, and then turned back the way he was.
“The last night you were supposed to stay with me, I was just so tired from the funeral and everything.”
“That happens.”
“And then the time before we fought and I was stupid.”
“That happens too.”
“We didn’t get together. We didn’t do this thing we just did, and I was coming to get you, Baby, and I saw you, like I really saw you. And I forget what I have. I forget how lucky I am.”
“Stop.”
“No,” Elias sat up and looked down on him. “You’re hot. I mean everyone knows that. Everyone says that. You on my arm is just like… even the most homophobic people get jealous! But you’re the best person I know. You always have been, and I forget how much I love you.”
“You know I feel the same way,” Dylan said.
“Even when I harp on you.”
“I don’t really pay it attention. You’re just being you. I actually think it’s your way of flirting.”
Dylan didn’t say anything else. That he was attractive was not news to him. His biological father, even in his sixties, was something to look at, and so was Dylan’s twin. He had been a pretty child who had grown into a pretty young man. He had grown up close to pretty people, and saw how far prettiness got a man. Pretty men were like candy and people wanted to consume them. No one cared about them. In those years when his libido was insatiable, his smile, his eyes, his face, his muscles had gotten him into bed with so many boys and often men, often men too old, who didn’t care about him when he was gone.
Elias could not understand, because Dylan had not understood until now, that his complaining and bickering, his pushing him away in bed was almost a relief, because that prettiness, the thing that so many people had loved without loving him, Elias often didn’t see. After a year of psychology Dylan was almost sure that he left his facial hair in the sink on purpose, and he was almost sure that Elias yelled at him because he knew it.
“You know it’s all for you,” Dylan said.
“Huh?”
“Me.”
“Uh… I guess.”
Elias hadn’t understood.
Dylan cleared his throat and turned around, cupping his chin.
“I mean you’re my guy, and whatever anyone else sees when they see me, this is for you. It’s only for you. If I don’t look good to you, then it doesn’t matter. If you don’t… think I’m hot, then it doesn’t matter. I’m yours and nobody else’s.”
A long time ago the three of them had stopped with the awkward, “You are the most important person in the world to me… except for Lance.” Or “I only live and breathe for you… and Dylan.” All of this was understood and to say, I love you and you alone: and the other person you’re in love with too, would not only have lessened it, but made the confession somehow false.

MORE TOMORROW!

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to continue with these characters. I enjoy reading what is going on in their heads and how this three way relationship works. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, it's good that you look forward to tomorrow because there will be more of them tomorrow. It's been a lovely night.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“Are you home?”
“Of course I’m home,” Dylan’s father said, “How else would I pick up this phone?”
“Are you still on the landline?”
“You just called the landline! I’m the one that’s getting old, so why are you being senile?”
“Dad, I couldn’t remember which number was which.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll let that pass. I was going to call you after dinner. You beat me to it.”
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“What about Thackeray?”
“That boy!” Fenn began. “That boy is going to be the pain in my ass. He’s been asking for a piano in the house for two years and I thought he would go off to school at Curtis, but he’s staying here so we got him one.”
“So he can have one for the house.”
“He has one at Tom’s house.”
“He’d like to be around you more.”
“I…”
“Dad, you fuss just to fuss. I know you do.”
“Well, maybe. Speaking of fussing, when are you all coming home?”
“Uh, the weekend after next.”
“Fine then. I’ll just give the apartment downstairs to Thackeray.”
“Do you want us to come this weekend?”
“I think the sooner the better. Peter looks like a hound dog. He comes by the house everyday, talking about how much he misses Lance. And you know I hate that you keep moving further and further away.”
“Yeah,” Dylan said, feeling suddenly serious. “I hate that too.”
“Your whole family misses you. Thackeray misses you. I miss you. Looking at him just makes me miss you more.”
“You’re starting to make me feel bad.”
“Good, you should. Speaking of making you feel bad, you know Maia just had her first baby.”
Maia was his stepsister, and she had married Elias’s twin brother.
“Yeah.”
“That means she has given Todd and Elias’s parents their first grandchild. How long till you give me a grandson?”
“Are you serious?”
“Unless you don’t want any kids. But you’ve been married for years so I thought you might want one.”
“I don’t think that’s so easy to do, Dad,” Dylan said. “You know that, right?”
When Fenn said nothing, Dylan said, “How many people want to give a baby to three men?”
“There was a movie about that in the eighties.”
“I think it was different than our situation.”
Fenn said, “Now, if you don’t have children because you don’t want them that’s one thing. But if you do want them… then you can find a way.
“Just think about it.”



Lance Bishop had enjoyed working in Chicago. He’d been working since he was seventeen years old. Very briefly he worked at the Martin’s grocery store in town before he realized he’d rather work at the Abercrombie and Fitch. You could wear flip flops there all the time. In fact you were encouraged too. And the clothes were too small for normal people and snug on him. It was always eighty degrees in the store and there was, in that job, a combination of superiority, masculinity and assured homosexuality that kept him there until he went to college on a football scholarship. Junior year he hurt himself badly and wasn’t really willing to be hurt again. His grades were up by then, and so he could get an academic scholarship. That was easy. He just had to keep a B average. He could work again on the weekends, and soon he was a manager at the Abercrombie and Fitch two miles from his dorm.
In his childhood he had been unsure of himself, unsure of his looks, his popularity, his sexuality. He was uneasy about his big hands and large forehead, his gangly arms and his clumsy body, his clumsy, clumsy feelings, what other boys said about him when his back was turned but his hearing keen. Two years on the football team, two years at Abercrombie and four in the weight room, seeing how others looked at him, taught him that there was nothing like the bad self esteem of others, made small by the sight of you, to increase your own self esteem.
When he would bring home clothes on discount, Elias could easily wear the pants, but the shirts were a toss up. Elias didn’t like labels or snug clothing. For Dylan, compact and broad shouldered, increasingly muscular from weights, the clothes were a joke.
“They just make ordinary people feel bad,” Dylan said, “and I can’t imagine the people wearing them ever feel good enough.”
Lance wondered if that was an insult, but didn’t press it. The truth was he never did feel quite good enough. He knew, because he had been told on My Space, and then later on Facebook, that he was getting hotter and hotter, his biceps wider and wider. But he felt meek, unsure, too tall, too dumb despite everything. Dylan’s family was so smart, both of his dads brilliant in two different ways, though deep inside Lance was sure it was Dylan’s father Fenn who was the smarter. Elias, self contained, was the smartest person Lance had ever known. He always felt strangely left out, strangely strange.
“You need to be reassured all the time,” Elias had told him once as they lay on the couch together, and the smaller, younger man held him, stroking his broad neck. “I wish you could understand how much I loved you.”
Once, Dylan said, “If I had chosen, you and only you, or if Elias had chosen only you, would you feel better?”
“Would you feel better?” Lance asked, meaning if he had done the same.
“No,” Dylan answered honestly. “We’re a family. I would be less without the both of you. There was something missing when it was just you and me, and you were missing when it was just me and Eli. I love us.”
“I love us too,” Lance said, “So why would you ask me that?”
“I think it’s because of those years when you were away from us. When me and Eli were together and you weren’t there. I always feel like we’ll never make that up.”
There were other things Lance knew. He remembered their early years, when he had loved Dylan far more than Dylan had loved him, when Dylan had left him for someone else only to find just what a disaster that relationship was, when there was a horrible violence that had erupted between Dylan and Lance which it had taken several years to get past. And, of course, Dylan understood the terrible depression that Lance spiraled down into now and again.
When Elias brought Felix into their life, Lance liked him a lot and hoped that this person who didn’t know them very well could understand that he felt that way. After all, Lance wasn’t talkative or well spoken, and he wasn’t particularly interfering. He was only too glad to run Felix and Joey up to Michigan, and it was there and in the following days when he met Scott that he knew he’d met someone like himself.
The problem with Scott being someone like himself was that Scott was as likely to talk as he was. The guy slept in the back of the car the whole time they were driving from Michigan, and when they reached town, Felix brought Scott up, seemingly sleepwalking, to his apartment.
It was the day after when Felix went in to teach and Dylan said he had to work, that Lance volunteered to watch Scott. While Scott slept, Lance stayed in Felix’s apartment. The sculptures and all of the books reminded him of Elias and Dylan and of Dylan’s house.
“Yup,” Scott said from the bed, “he’s really sort of brilliant.”
Lance smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”
“Are you the deathwatch?” Scott said, and groaned as he sat up. “Are you here to make sure I don’t do anything crazy?”
“Felix didn’t want you left all alone. I agreed to stay here.”
Then Lance added, “Can I get you something?”
Scott waved this off.
“I’m supposed to be offering you something. I mean I guess this is sort of like my place.”
“I’m fine. I just had a Five Hour Energy, and I got a Gatorade.”
Scott got out of bed not sure of protocol. He was in his underwear and, grabbing his trousers, went to the kitchen to change and then reported, “We’ve got ice cream, junk, junk and more junk, so it’s a good thing you brought your own stuff.”
Lance heard the faucet running.
“Standard Felix junk.”
Scott came back with the water and he said to Lance.
“So I’m sorry I haven’t been any use. Felix told me about you guys, but I didn’t really get to meet you like I wanted to. Sorry about that. I’m Scott, you know that, right?”
Scott offered a large, slightly rough hand, and Lance shook it heartily saying, “Yeah we gathered. And I’m—”
“I know you’re Lance Bishop. I’m good with names. Plus, if I’m not wrong, you played for Tamsin for a couple of seasons.”
“Right!” Lance smiled, pleased. “And then I got hurt and was too much of a pussy to go back.”
“I played in high school. It was no joke. I can imagine college would be even less of a joke, and if I broke my legs and could get school money somewhere else I would have done it too,” Scott said. “And I bet if your guys are anything like my guy they wouldn’t let you keep playing.”
“Well there’s that too,” Lance shrugged. Then he laughed and said, as Scott pulled on his Hollister tee shirt, “I feel like we’re going to have a battle of the mall shops.”
“What are you—” Scott started and then looked at Lance’s shirt.
“Oh, you’re Team Abercrombie.”
“I was the manager of two Abercrombies,” Lance said.
Scott rolled his eyes. “Of course you were.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Lance laughed, “And your American Eagle Outfitter three hundred thread count blue checked shirt.”
“Is everyone who shops there gay?” Scott wondered.
“Nope,” Lance said. “Just the dudes.”
Scott laughed and shook his head.
“I’m so new to this,” he said. Then, “I’m so new to not being in the shadows. They call it the closet but they should call it the shadows.”
“I haven’t been in the shadows since I was in high school,” Lance said with a crooked smile. “In college I was with Dylan. Then came Eli. I lived away from them so no one really knew us as a unit. I didn’t feel in the shadows, though, then. I just felt lonely.”
“Well, that’s part of it,” Scott said. “But I’ve never been out in the open, or been able to live with the person I love. And I don’t feel like I fit in. All that stuff gay people are supposed to do. I just want to raise my kids and go to work. And take them to church on Sunday. And be with Felix.”
“I know what you mean,” Lance said. Then, “You Catholic?”
“How’d you know?”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Kinda like gaydar? Uh, I went to Saint Casimir’s over on the East End.”
“Is it nice?”
Scott shrugged. “It’s pretty Polish.”
Then he sang:





“Serdeczna Matko
Serdiczna Matko, opiekunko ludzi.
Niech Cie placz sierot do litosei wzbudzi.
Wygnancy Ewy do Ciebie wolamy.”

Lance blinked at him before saying, “What the fuck was that?”
“It was a Polish hymn.”
“My family’s Irish,” Lance said. Then added, “And Hungarian. I think.” He shook his head and realized, “I’m really just a hillbilly.”
Scott chuckled and said, “Every white guy two generations in the Midwest is a hillbilly.”
“And your last name is Flowers?”
“Not very Polish.. I wonder if Felix would research my family for me. He likes stuff like that. I like other people to find out that stuff for me.”
“German,” Lance remembered. “German too. I think we’re just mutts. My mom’s maiden name was Lagger. I dunno.”
Suddenly Scott said, “Felix doesn’t want kids. He likes my kids, but he doesn’t want to be a stepfather.”
“Do you need him to be?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think I did, but that’s what he’ll be if we’re together. But I can totally understand him not wanting to. He didn’t want kids, and out of all the kids in the world he could raise, why would he raise mine? Especially when I think about how they came about. I mean, Jen sort of got pregnant to keep me away from Felix.”
“Your wife knew Felix?”
“She knew there was someone who wasn’t her. Who wasn’t a woman. She knew I wasn’t sure about myself back then.”
“And are you sure now?
Scott chuckled and then sang:

Zmilujsie zmiluj niech sie nie tulamy.
Do kogoz mamy, wzdychac nadzne dziatki.

Before saying: “I don’t know if it was so much about being sure as being honest.”


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I am glad Scott got the chance to interact more with these guys. He is going through a lot. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

That night Lance got off the phone and Elias asked: “Was that Scott?”
“Yeah. He wanted to know what we were doing this weekend.”
“You know what?” Elias said. “I think you have a crush on him.”
“I do not!”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“Stop it,” Lance said.
“I think it’s just a little crush. Like a friend crush. I’d say it’s a man crush, but we’re all gay, so…” Elias shrugged.
“Well, fine,” Lance said, sitting on the bed beside Elias, “then you have a crush on Felix. You and Dylan.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Elias agreed. “At least I can own it.”
“You know,” Lance began, “I really don’t like it when you talk this way.”
“Lance,” Elias replied, kneeling so that he leaned over his beloved, “my dear Lancelot…”
“That’s a really stupid name, and I hate that it’s on my birth certificate,” Lance interrupted. Then: “Scott was going to ask Felix to look into his genealogy.”
“Why can’t Scott do that himself?”
“I was going to ask you to do the same for me, actually.”
“You’re a quarter Irish, a quarter Magyar and half German with a bit of Dutch thrown in.”
Lance parted from Elias, looking up at him.
“How did you even know that?”
“We already knew Dylan’s family tree. I wanted to find out mine a few years back, so while I was working on it, I did yours too.”
“Magyar’s Hungarian, right?”
Elias held Lance by the hair, placing his fingers in his dark waves and kissing the top of his head.
“Yes,” he said, and he wrapped his arms about Lance, feeling the strength of his arms and the warmth of his body, kissing his head in affection.




“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Felix said. “Come on in,”
He pushed the door open and Dylan said, “Tonight is Elias’s night with Lance.”
“I love the life you all have,” Felix commented. “I don’t know what I would do with two Scotts. Two anyones. You thirsty?”
“I’m good,” Dylan began. Then he said, “What do you have?”
“For most people I say water because I don’t want them drinking my shit, but,” Felix opened the refrigerator and began pulling out juice, milk, chocolate milk, beer and wine, “you can have my shit.”
“I’ll take this shit,” Dylan pointed to the chocolate milk.
“Really? I thought you’d have something so much more grown up.”
Felix got a glass from above him and poured milk into it before going into the living room with nothing for himself.
“Is Scott coming?”
“I hope you weren’t coming to see him. He’s at home with his kids.”
“No,” Dylan shook his head. “I really just came to see you.
“I talked to my dad today.”
“I never talk to mine.”
“Is it that kind of relationship?”
“Well, yes.”
“My dad asked me if we were ever going to have children.”
Felix blinked.
“That’s how I felt too,” Dylan admitted. “I had actually discounted the possibility. Now I don’t know.”
“But,” Felix began, then he shook his head.
“You were going to ask but how?”
“I was.”
“I don’t know,” Dylan shrugged, taking a large drink so a chocolate milk moustache imprinted itself on his upper lip. “I mean who would give us a kid?”
“Two of you could adopt him as a couple and then…” Felix thought.
Dylan waved it off. “I don’t really need to know now. I don’t even know if I would want that. Only I had never thought of it.”
But Felix wasn’t finished. “I bet if one of you made it genetically, then two of you could adopt it as a couple, then all three of you could have a child.”
“Wow,” Dylan looked surprised. “You’re a lot like my dad! That’s some crazy shit he would think of.”
“Then I’m sure I would like him.”
“I think you would. You’re a lot alike… Except twenty odd years younger.”
“Or you could all genetically make a child, and then have the other two adopt them as couples and…”
“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”
“I’m actually going to go on the Internet and look it up tonight. Traditional families suck balls, and I’m all about making new ones.”
The phone rang and Felix lifted a finger to check.
“It’s Scott,” he said.
“Then get it,” Dylan told him.
“I don’t want to be rude.”
“Get it. It might be important.”
Fenn did. He slid his finger across the face of the phone and said, “Hello, Babe.”
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
“That’s sweet. I’m glad to hear your voice too.”
Now to find a nice way to tell him to call back.
“I haven’t seen much of you this week.”
“And I actually called about that,” Scott said.
“Okay?”
“You won’t be seeing that much of me tomorrow either. I have to work late. I got Matt to watch the boys. I thought of asking you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Do you really want to?” Scott said. “We just got together. We’re dating each other. You’re not dating my kids.”
“These days I’m not dating much of you, either,” Felix said.
“Hey—”
“And I understand why. I’m not stupid,” Felix told him. “And I’m not selfish either.”
“I know you aren’t. You’re the most unselfish person I know.”
“I’m just saying… there doesn’t seem to be much time for us.”
“Our time is coming,” Scott said. “I promise you.”
“Well right now Dylan is here and I’m being a rude host.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course. I love you. I’ll talk to you soon. Say hey to Dylan. And tell Lance and Eli the same.”
“I will.”
“Goodnight, Fee.”
“Goodnight, Scott.”
“So,” Felix cleared his throat after he put the phone away, “I am basically taking it on Scott’s word that we are together.”
Dylan said nothing and Felix said, “And there were whole months when you didn’t see Lance?”
“Yes,” Dylan lifted a finger, “but you have to remember, when Lance was gone Elias was always there, and I had been through a great deal to get the both of them.”
“I feel like unless I want to be a stepfather to his boys I’m never going to really have Scott, and that makes me feel terrible,” Felix continued, “because I am full on forty, and shouldn’t I want to be that? Shouldn’t I want to do that for him?”
“Why would you?” Dylan asked, simply. “And even if you should it’s clear that you don’t.”
“I feel something like a monster,” Felix continued, “because deep inside not only do I wish Jen hadn’t died—which is right and fitting—I wish he’d lost custody. I wish he was mine. I could share him with his wife, or even another man. I don’t want to share him with two kids. Not hers.”

WE CONCLUDE OUR CHAPTER TOMORROW NIGHT

 

[CharmedFan28]

Felix certainly has some thinking to do. Scott and his kids are a package deal and I hope Felix can decide whether or not he wants to be a stepfather soon. Excellent writing and I look forward to the end of the chapter tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT,AT THE END OF OUR PENULTIMATE CHAPTER, UNDERSTANDING IS TESTED AND PROGRESS IS TRIED



Dylan was a new best friend, and Felix was sad when he was gone. It was so difficult to link to someone let alone another man. And when Dylan was gone, Felix felt very much left to his own devices. He sat on his sofa a while, and then got up, went to the refrigerator for his tobacco, and pulled down rolling papers and filters to begin rolling cigarettes. While he was halfway through smoking one he got up, went to the underwear drawer and pulled out a sheer pair of microfiber briefs. He remembered an afternoon with a lover some time ago, and seeing underwear like that on the floor. He had picked them up and slipped them onto his own body and then commanded him:
“Pull them away.”
He knew he was sexy as the eager boy pulled them off. So a few days later Felix went to the Wal Mart—yes they sold them at the Wal Mart—and bought three pairs. The bright red one he pulled out of the drawer. He eyed it carefully, and then smiled, ashed his cigarette, and tossed the red briefs on the bed before going to shower.

He felt that he was being good here, that he was being responsible, that he was doing what he didn’t want to do, moving in a different direction than he had done his whole life, and as he headed to Scott’s house, he thought of their first conversation. It seemed like so long ago, though it had been in the heat of summer and now the chill of autumn was coming in.




He was at the house now, and he saw the open curtain, and in the living room Scott was on the sofa, talking, and in the chair across from him, bringing Taylor a drink, was Matt, and they looked like a family, and everything looked so real and so complete, and Felix thought how Matt wanted that life and, in a way, since Scott had neglected to say Matt would still be here, pouring the children drinks, sharing a life with Scott, this felt like cheating. And Felix thought, “Matt can have it.” He didn’t want to raise Scott’s children. That was too much responsibility centering around one man who had, after all, given him far too little.



When Rob opened the door and saw Felix, he said, “We’re not being loud, are we?”
Felix shook his head and walked into the apartment which smelled faintly of weed and Nag Champa and came to the middle of the living room.

I'm gettin' sad alone
Dancing with myself
Greedy go-getter goal
The luxury of stealth
I'm seedy and the whole

“Hey!” Kevin came out of the bedroom, bare chest lightly haired and lightly muscled, his waist wrapped by a towel under his tight belly. “You just come to visit?”
“Yeah. Least I could do after the last time you came and I was occupied. I’ve been occupied a lot lately. So now I’m here.”
“Cool,” Kevin smiled. “I’m hopping in the shower. Have a seat.”
Rob pulled out a baggy and rolling papers and dimmed the room to blacklight
“Have some of this, too.”

Cigarette smoke floated in the apartment along with weed, Felix had consumed half a bottle of Jim Beam. The album was on its last song, and Felix was in the place where shit did not matter,.
Kevin had been in the shower a long time, swilling on gin, puffing on weed while he sang to himself, and thinking about composing some lyrics of his own because he’d stopped doing that a while ago. Kevin wrapped the towel about his waist. He came out of the bathroom, pulling a comb through his wet, cinnamon colored hair after he’d sprayed it with detangler, a little proud of it and the thin beard he was growing.
“Look at you too, shitfaced already,” Kevin said, looking at Rob, long and tall, grasshopper legs splayed open. Felix eyes were half closed.
“As shitfaced as you,” Rob said.
Kevin chuckled, taking a hand through his hair and muttered, “You’re right. You’re right. You’re not wrong.”
“So,” Rob said, looking to Felix, then Kevin, “what are we getting up to tonight?”
It was as if, no matter how high they were, something heavier than the smoke was hanging in the air. The music had died and they were in total silence. Felix stood up and, slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt, and then placed it on the chair.
“I don’t get… What are you…?” Kevin’s words faded. He put his brush down on the little table by the hallway.
Felix pulled down his trousers, and he stood before Rob, underwear red as crime the only thing on his brown body. He pulled them down and then sat back down on the open futon.
Rob, without looking, put his long, veined hand between Felix’s thighs, and Felix turned, tilting Rob’s face, and kissed him for a long while. Rob stood up like one hypnotized, undressing slowly, his jeans making a dull sound as they, with the weight of their belt, fell to the floor, and he pulled off his tee shirt, swiftly, standing there, tall, a little hairy, his penis arching up.
Kevin opened his mouth in mild surprise, and Felix gestured to him. Unwrapping his towel to reveal a cock thick and stiff, sprung up from a cloud of copper hair, Kevin came.


THAT'S ALL FOR THIS WEEK. NEXT WEEK, IN CHAPTER TWELVE, WE WILL CONCLUDE BIRD CAME DOWN

 

[CharmedFan28]

Sounds like Felix is feeling a bit lost. I had hoped he could make it work with Scott but now I am not so sure. That was some great writing and I look forward to more next week! I hope you had a great birthday!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, something is definitely a bit something as we launch into our last chapter, but for tonight we will be going back to the Book of the Broken. Thank, you, Matt, for the birthday wishes!

 

[ChrisGibson]

LAST TIME, FELIX STOPPED AT SCOTT'S HOUSE ONLY TO FIND MATT THERE AND IMAGINE THAT SCOTT MUST BE CHEATING. FEELING A BIT LOST, FELIX IS SPURRED TO FINALLY GO DOWNSTAIRS TO HIS NEIGHBORS AND SEE WHAT THEY HAVE TO OFFER...WITHOUT FURTHER ADO WE LAUNCH INTO THE FINAL CHAPTER OF BIRD CAME DOWN



T W E L V E
T W E L V E




C A K E










Theme Song: That’s What’s Up:
Fdward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

Scott started watching porn at work. The last time he’d been with Felix was right before the funeral, and now his days were consumed by office work and his nights by children. At first Scott would click on to YouPorn or X Tubes for a little bit, but eventually he had it running all day. He wasn’t stupid. He had seen movies about office computers being checked, and he brought in his own MAC to work. In the end he wanted sound, and he kept one earbud in while he typed facing the door, and folks walked back and forth while he watched JD Phoenix in Cubicle Mates being asked to suck his new office cubicle partner’s dick. It didn’t take very long, and soon he was slurping away noisily, the cock popping out of his mouth. In the end, in assless underwear—Scott wore Champion, but maybe someone else could wear assless—JD was getting fucked.
Scott knew the porn was stupid, so he was surprised at how hard it made him. This was his release for the day, the same way uptight women drank white wine and read Fifty Shades of Grey. The married men videos made him the hottest, the guy in the suit sneaking away from his wife. The straight guy sticking his dick in a glory hole and expecting a woman to be on the other end only to pretend horror when, in mid blowjob, he learned it was a man. And it didn’t matter that no one who stuck his dick in a glory hole expected a woman. It all sent him into feverish excitement, and then he would go to the water cooler and have a drink. Looking around at the bent heads at clicking keyboards, Scott Flowers thought:
I wonder how many of these other fuckers are doing the same thing?

“And its weird,” he told Lance over lunch, “that I should even be turned on by something like that. I mean, I was the married man, the real married man, and when I did those things they didn’t excite me. I can’t describe it. I mean, obviously I liked it. It was an escape, but it was also embarrassing and… shameful. But I’m watching them on my computer and getting off on them.”
“You’re getting off at work?” Lance put his bagel down.
“No,” Scott said. “I let it build up all day and then jerk off like crazy at night.”
“That’s some Salvador Dali shit.”
“Huh?”
“He used to torture himself sexually, and then build up the pressure for maximum sexual satisfaction. Don’t look surprised,” he said at the surprised look on Scott’s face, “I know a few things.”
Scott chuckled and said, “I was giving you the same look people give me when I say something smart.”
“Yeah,” Lance said with a grimace. “I’m afraid if your boyfriend is the smart one then you have to be… the not smart one.”
“I’m a widow now,” Scott said, “a respectable gay widow in the modern world with a guy who loves me. But after the kids go to sleep I fantasize that I’m fucking around behind my wife’s back and lately that gets me off the best.”
“Sometimes I pretend that I’m raping Dylan or he’s raping me and that gets us off,” Lance said quickly, wiping his hands on his jeans, “and I’m telling you that cause we’re friends. There’s a price to pay. It sends me into a dark place because a long time ago we really were violent with each other. I started it. And the real thing, when it happened, wasn’t hot at all. I can’t describe it.”
“You raped Dylan?”
Lance looked at Scott trying to discern what his question meant, if he was judging.
“The reason I ask is because… I’ve been violent too.”
“With Felix?”
“God no! With Felix! He’d kill me. I’d kill myself.”
“I wanted to kill myself. I was afraid Dylan would leave me. I was angry because he was leaving me, and I’ve never told anyone. Not even Elias. It just… I felt so helpless. Dylan’s no punk. He… turned the tables. We were both injured and really humiliated but at the same time when we are together we’re still sort of violent. Play violent. I could never hurt him again. If I think I’m causing him pain, like even if I thin his seatbelt is strapped on too tight it terrifies me. And he’s the same way with me. But we pretend at it and it gets us off and I don’t know why that is. But… This isn’t about me.”
“How do you live with seeing that part of yourself?” Scott said. “The part of you that can do terrible things. You hear about hate crimes and about how brutal rapists are but then…” he shook his head.
“When I met you I knew we should be friends,” Lance said.
Scott looked at him.
“I thought it was cause we were both good old All American Athletes,” Lance said, “but it’s because we’re both fucked up and dark.”
“And evil?”
“No,” Lance said. “I used to think I was, but I’m not evil. And you’re not evil either. I work in a prison. I’ve seen evil.”

That was the night Dylan went to visit Felix, and Lance stayed with Elias, and in the end while Lance was drawn up like a fetus, Elias put his head between his legs and sucked the light out of him, Lance crying out like a baby bird and coming in his mouth the same time Dylan walked into the door. Hearing Lance come, Dylan knew that when the two of them were half asleep, he would join them. It was the same night Felix walked to Scott’s house only to see Matt there and walk away. And that night Scott and Matt sat on the couch with the kids between them watching the end of a long and terrible Disney Channel movie that Scott could hardly believe he was paying for.
They put the kids to bed and Scott told him, “I really appreciate you coming here,” and Matt said, “They’re like my own kids.”
Scott went to the restroom, and while he was peeing the door opened and Matt walked in, closing the door behind him.
“What the fuck? You couldn’t wait?” Scott finished up and flushed the toilet. He was zipping his pants when Matt said, “Not just yet,” and sat on the tub.
“Whaddo you… ”
Matt reached into Scott’s pants and he yelped.
“What the fuck, Matt?”
“Scott, stop,” Matt said, tired, and reached for Scott again.
This time Scott didn’t yelp and Matt, stroking his own dick said, “I won’t say a word against anyone, but you wouldn’t be spanking the monkey and I wouldn’t be putting your kids to bed if someone was here.”
Scott just stood there while Matt spoke matter of factly, opening his trousers now and holding Scott’s dick. And then suddenly, sitting on the side of the tub, Matt’s neck snaked, and he moved up and down on Scott and it felt so good and he went so hard. He planted his hands in Matt’s thick hair and let his old friend suck and suck, lick and slurp. Matt began to unbuckle his pants and pulled them down and Scott stood in the bathroom while Matt sucked him off.
“I got clean on one of the commercial breaks,” Matt said when he pulled away from Scott. “I got clean and lubed up and your dick’s wet.”
“You planned this.”
“I did,” Matt said.
He dropped his pants and went to the sink, pulling Scott with him. They clicked together like two magnets, and with a satisfied grunt, Scott was inside of him. He fucked him on the edge of the sink, and the two of them moaned.
“Just a couple of pumps,” Scott murmured. “Just a few.”
If it was just a few it wouldn’t be cheating. If it was just a few he wouldn’t be doing this for real. But Matt groaned. “Just fuck me.”
And then Scott bit down on his throat and Matt cried out.
“Fuck it,” Scott said, and began to fuck him harder and harder. He pushed Matt to the floor and fucked him violently against the tub until he shouted, and giving a defeated cry, like something between a long, staggered sob and an exclamation, Scott’s teeth chattered as his body convulsed and he came, shooting inside of Matt over and over again.
After a few minutes, it must have been a few minutes, and Scott was surprised that the kids didn’t wake back up, Matt said, “Scott, can we please go to bed and finish this. I don’t want this to be over. Not on your bathroom floor.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, pressing his face into Matt’s back. He pulled out of his friend, and he saw his semen pouring from Matt, dripping on the tile floor between the tub and the bath mat. “Let’s go to bed.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Seems like Scott and Felix are getting further apart. I hope they can find their way back to each other eventually. Scott and Lance are developing a nice friendship. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, to everything you said, yes. I thought Scott and Lance were too alike to not be friends. They both share a terrible secret, and as more or less alpha, athletic males, in the queer world they are two men who would feel largely out of place and would be glad of each other's friendship.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT EVERYONE STEPS INTO PASSION GIVING NO THOUGHT FOR TOMORROW

“Scott, stop,” Matt said, tired, and reached for Scott again.
This time Scott didn’t yelp and Matt, stroking his own dick said, “I won’t say a word against anyone, but you wouldn’t be spanking the monkey and I wouldn’t be putting your kids to bed if someone was here.”
Scott just stood there while Matt spoke matter of factly, opening his trousers now and holding Scott’s dick. And then suddenly, sitting on the side of the tub, Matt’s neck snaked, and he moved up and down on Scott and it felt so good and he went so hard. He planted his hands in Matt’s thick hair and let his old friend suck and suck, lick and slurp. Matt began to unbuckle his pants and pulled them down and Scott stood in the bathroom while Matt sucked him off.
“I got clean on one of the commercial breaks,” Matt said when he pulled away from Scott. “I got clean and lubed up and your dick’s wet.”
“You planned this.”
“I did,” Matt said.
He dropped his pants and went to the sink, pulling Scott with him. They clicked together like two magnets, and with a satisfied grunt, Scott was inside of him. He fucked him on the edge of the sink, and the two of them moaned.
“Just a couple of pumps,” Scott murmured. “Just a few.”
If it was just a few it wouldn’t be cheating. If it was just a few he wouldn’t be doing this for real. But Matt groaned. “Just fuck me.”
And then Scott bit down on his throat and Matt cried out.
“Fuck it,” Scott said, and began to fuck him harder and harder. He pushed Matt to the floor and fucked him violently against the tub until he shouted, and giving a defeated cry, like something between a long, staggered sob and an exclamation, Scott’s teeth chattered as his body convulsed and he came, shooting inside of Matt over and over again.
After a few minutes, it must have been a few minutes, and Scott was surprised that the kids didn’t wake back up, Matt said, “Scott, can we please go to bed and finish this. I don’t want this to be over. Not on your bathroom floor.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, pressing his face into Matt’s back. He pulled out of his friend, and he saw his semen pouring from Matt, dripping on the tile floor between the tub and the bath mat. “Let’s go to bed.”



He had needed Rob. He had needed the on-his-back, legs to -his-chest-ness of being fucked in Kevin and Rob’s apartment, fucked by the one he knew the least and cared for the less. He’d needed the moment with no future, little past and no reflection. Just the moment right where Rob, breathing heavily, arms pinioning him, was pressing into him, harder and harder, and then Rob spasming, crying out, twisting and then making Felix wail as he pressed deep inside, coming.
When Rob pulled out of him, Felix went to his side, feeling an ache deep inside, squeezing himself together, weirdly opened and mysteriously exultant about it.
“You all right?” Rob had said.
Felix didn’t say anything. He just lay on his side, and Kevin, who had also been on his side, watching, suddenly snaked around to give him head.
Here Felix had been, on his back, burying his hands in Kevin’s thick hair, looking over his hair to the shape of his ass, the ass he would enter before the night was over. Kevin was sucking his penis like a hungry baby, sucking for some life, Felix’s back arched and he gave it to him in a body twist of orgasm, flooding his mouth. And how come it felt so good if it was a sin? How come this openness in his ass, despite the ache, felt good too?
And then, as the three of them lay naked together, and silent, all the questions were gone, and they received the sex blessing. A moment of thoughtlessness, a moment without judgment. Pure feeling. Sensation without story.





In the early morning he placed Felix against the wall, and Felix pressed his face to it and closed his eyes while Kevin kissed his neck and then, pressing his head into Felix’s back sank down to his ass and placed his face there while Felix’s hands opened and he looked up at the ceiling.

I left a man
Asleep in the nude
Name in my pocket
With lipstick and rouge

Sheryl Crow was playing in the background. Kevin turned Felix around and pulled him into his mouth while Felix’s hands sank into copper tangles, kneading his scalp and luxuriating in the thickness of his hair. Kevin came up for breath after a while, kissing his stomach, sucking on his throat and then kissing his mouth.
On the futon, long and half asleep, sprawled out, back and ass to them, was Rob.
Felix lifted Kevin up and pressed him to the bed while Rob obligingly moved over, and Kevin’s legs opened for him as Felix pushed himself into Kevin and Kevin’s hands went over his bald head, down his neck, down his back.
“Felix, Felix,” Kevin moaned in his ear. “Let’s go back to your apartment.. Let’s go upstairs.”

It's just an ordinary mornin'
It's just an ordinary day
And I'm just an ordinary woman
Slippin' away

Felix kissed Kevin deeply on his mouth.
“Alright,” he said, “Let’s go.”


—o—


In another apartment, Elias Anderson gripped the lentil of his closet door, and in that confined space, the room only half lit by morning, he made a wounded noise while, ass pushed out, his hands reaching back, he invited Lance Bishop to fuck him. He opened his eyes once or twice and turned his head to see the mirror on the dresser and in it he could see the look on Lance’s face, knitted brows, the almost frown, that look of intensity that was strong as fire. He reached behind him until he seized Lance’s hair and pulled his face into his back.
“Fuck!” he cried out, feeling the sweat roll down his body. “Fuck me.”


—o—

They lay sprawled out in bed, sharing a joint, Felix’s hands in Kevin’s hair. He watched Kevin exhale and then hand over the joint, and he took a sharp hit.
“Guess what I got?” Kevin said.
“Laid?”
Kevin gave a wild, half high laugh and said, “Yeah, but you know what else?”
“Huh?”
“I got a car. What time do you go to work?”
“Eleven. But I need to get cleaned up and have clean clothes.”
“Cool, can I shower here? I don’t care about wearing the same clothes as long as I freeball.”
“You know you live right downstairs.”
“Yeah,” Kevin said, turning on his side and handing Felix the spliff, “but right now I don’t want to go downstairs. I want to stay here. Last night was awesome. I think we all wanted it, but I’ve never spent that much time alone with you. Being alone with a person is a special event.”
Felix inhaled too hard, and coughed up pot. He ran a hand along Kevin’s trim side admiring the vein that went down to his copper pubic hair.
“And we’ve got a few hours to do this,” Kevin said, “This we’re doing right now. More time if I drive you.”
Felix noted that Kevin was completely right.

ONLY TWO SECTIONS LEFT OF BIRD CAME DOWN.

LANCE, ELIAS AND DYLAN WILL RETURN LATER IN: BITS AND PIECES, A ROSSFORD BOOK