Later that night Michael lay awake unsure whether to cower or crow. He'd come out and made his intentions known-there was no going back now. Though he cringed at how vulnerable he'd made himself, he felt he could trust Jay not to betray his confidence.

Slowly his hand slipped under the elastic of his boxers as he relived the feeling of firm, masculine hands gripping his cock, his active imagination filling in the blanks of how the night should have ended, had he not been such a coward. He hoped he hadn't blown his chances with the laid-back, smooth-talking Texan.

As he lay in the darkened privacy of his bedroom he imagined his fingers brushing dark nipples, exciting them to rigid points, then moving downward to wrap around a cock that was long and hard, in proportion with Jay's body. It would fit so well in his hand-or his mouth.

In his fantasy he took that hard length between his lips, trying to imagine what it would be like to bury his nose in wiry pubic hair and inhale deeply of musky male scent. In lieu of Jay's cock, he stuck his finger in his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, gratified at the imagined moans it would pull from his pleased lover. Yeah, he could probably do that.

He paused to remove his annoying boxers, then returned his hand to his hard flesh, stroking rhythmically, while he mentally licked and sucked his lover. Up and down his hand moved, faster and tighter, his breathing quick, harsh pants. His other hand reached beneath his balls, applying pressure to just the right spot. "Jay!" he moaned as muscles clenched, held, and then released, milky semen splattering his chest. Still gripping his cock, he collapsed back on the bed, panting. It wasn't as good as it had been with Jay, but it served the purpose, leaving him sated and sleepy.

He wished Jay was there, because he liked physical contact after sex, unafraid to admit he was a cuddler. If things progressed the way he hoped, he'd soon know what that was like with Jay.

But when he came down from his orgasmic high, reality was waiting for him. There were serious problems he had to deal with; it wouldn't be fair to ask another into his life until they were resolved, or at the very least, manageable. Still, Jay had said, "Whatever you need…" Even if Jay couldn't fully understand, the fact that he wanted to meant a lot and, quite frankly, helped to ease the feeling of isolation that occurred even while surrounded by loving family members. As much as he wanted Jay, he needed him even more.

It wouldn't be easy to come out in this narrow-minded town. Sure his mother accepted it, but what about his God-fearing grandparents. Would they still love him if he were with another man? They liked Jay, letting him call them Grandma and Grandpa, but did they even know he was gay? Sunday's sermon came to mind. Attending church was a big part of his life, but he'd no longer be welcome there if he was honest about who and what he was.

His former stepfather's words haunted him, names used against him like "pansy" and "silly faggot." He'd get that and a whole lot more if he continued to walk this path. Did his sister know? How about everyone else at the party? He'd been so overwhelmed that he only had vague recollections of the evening - up to his time with Jay, anyway. Those moments were forever etched into his memory.

Rising from the bed, he found an old pair of sweat pants to pull on and then wandered into the living area and sank down onto the couch, clicking on the TV. Idly he flipped through channels, his mind drifting back to the defining moment when he stopped denying he was different from the guys he'd grown up with.

Two young Arkansas boys had entered his life when he'd been a frightened, lonely recruit in boot camp, away from home for the first time ever. Missing his family, friends, and even his newly shorn locks, he was pretty miserable. Ryan and Jimmy seemed to sense that he needed a friend, or better yet, two, and included him in their lives, even though anyone who really knew them would have realized they only needed each other. That's why they kept their distance from anyone but him. For some reason they trusted him and, as a trio seemed more appropriate than a pair among their comrades, the rest of their platoon accepted the fact that if you saw one of them, the other two weren't far behind.

If they hadn't confided in him Michael wouldn't have guessed that they were more than just friends. But then, he'd always been rather naïve about such, being from a small town where any local gays either moved at the first chance or remained firmly hidden in the closet. His mother's gay friends were all older; he hadn't had much experience with gay men his own age.

It was because he knew and accepted their relationship that Ryan leaned so heavily on him after Jimmy died. Both of them were up for reenlistment shortly after the incident, but Michael no longer met eligibility requirements and Ryan had lost all desire to fight, so they concluded their stint with Uncle Sam.

In their grief over Jimmy's death they'd shared a one-time encounter that Michael replayed in his mind many times. He had no regrets, but his only feelings for Ryan were as a very dear friend. Though he cared deeply for him, as he had for Jimmy, that was all it was ever meant to be: a deep friendship tempered by shared loss.

That one experience, however, made him finally understand what his friends had known all along. Even without emotional attachment, what they'd shared was far more intense than anything he'd ever had with a girlfriend. In the past he'd dismissed it as not having found the right girl, but after that night he realized what the problem had been all along - it wasn't a girl he needed. Then along came Jay and all doubts disappeared completely.

From the moment he'd first seen Jay sitting in the living room, wreathed in sunlight, turning back wasn't an option, and it was more than mere sexual attraction. He wanted him, only he wasn't quite sure yet what to do with him if and when he caught him. Catching him was the important part - the details could take care of themselves.

Still, the realist in him couldn't expect Jay to accept all the excess baggage he carried. Again he heard, "Whatever you need…" the words giving him hope. How wonderful it would feel not to be alone anymore.

Sighing wistfully, he got up for a beer, padding across the new carpet that was soft and plush against his bare feet. He'd finally gotten used to that luxury again, and the bright, freshly painted walls that were a far cry from the drab barracks that had been his home.

Home. He was home. All the plans and dreams he'd been saving for the last four years could now become reality. All that he needed to do was make his mind up as to what he wanted and go after it.

Suddenly he felt the overwhelming need to pick up the phone. Noticing it was four in the morning, decided he'd just have to wait.

* * *

Jay was wide awake and restless, but to keep from disturbing his roommate with his tossing and turning, he decided to take a delighted Shasta for a walk. The fluffy plume of the retriever's tail beat rhythmically against his leg as her breath huffed out from around the ever-present tennis ball in her mouth. He knew she'd just about die a happy doggie death if he'd play a game of fetch with her, but he wasn't touching the drool soaked, lime green monstrosity.

Instead they walked, enjoying the slight chill of morning and the natural night sounds that would soon be drowned out by cars and man-made noises. Jay shoved his hands inside the pockets of his worn, denim jacket, mulling over the events of the evening, those moments in the bathroom fondly replaying in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to regret them. No, he loved every minute of seeing the normally reserved Michael surrender control the way he had.

He recalled the man's confession, not just of his orientation, but why he'd taken the first tentative steps out of the closet, smug with the knowledge that he'd been Michael's first gay kiss. He would have liked Michael to stay and finish him, but had made short work of that on his own, coming violently within moments to the memory of the blue-eyed blond's passionate moans.

When he returned downstairs he'd made what small talk he could with Michael, but Angie's protective, angry glares sent a clear warning. When Michael was ready to go home, sharp fingernails digging into his shoulder discouraged him from riding along with Charlene, the designated driver.

So he gone on to the porch and waited, knowing Angie would look for him there. After the first year of friendship she'd finally learned to trust him. He felt honored, especially since she was so suspicious of the world at large. But when it came to her brother, he wasn't sure how she'd react. By the end of their conversation, though, they both breathed a bit easier, her trust restored.

She'd given him a lot to think about, like the anxiety and post traumatic stress, especially after how close he'd come to being decked. He hadn't lied about his cousin's issues, but even with the support of a big, loving family, Angel's reintegration into the civilian world had been difficult, as it was sure to be for Michael. Combat left a man with some heavy shit to deal with, and he shouldn't have to go it alone.

What he needed was a friend who he could count on, who knew what to expect. And if it turned out that Michael needed a friend more than he needed a lover? Well, his cousin's problems had taught Jay that sometimes you just had to wait until they came around. You didn't give up; you let them know you were there, always, no matter what. And if Michael didn't want him as a lover he'd cross that bridge when he got there, he was in no hurry, he had plenty of time.

Or did he? He frowned, an unbidden thought crossing his mind. Graduation was fast approaching, and he'd looked forward to moving somewhere he'd find more acceptance. Michael had just come home. That meant in order for anything to develop between them, he'd have to postpone leaving. He tried to imagine the two of them nestled all cozy and snug in Michael's small apartment over the store. Nah, it'd never work. There was barely room up there for one, let alone two. Still, together in the tiny kitchen preparing dinner, brushing against each other as they both tried to occupy the same space could prove…interesting.

Yeah, he could do it. He could find a job locally or in a nearby city, but he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to win Michael. Angie was on his side, though, so Michael didn't stand a chance.

On that happy note, he turned himself and Shasta for home.