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'Okay . . .' Keith thought, as he heaved a sigh and sat back on the hard chair in the college library, ignoring the glowing screen of his laptop computer, and the patiently pulsing cursor. 'You've gotta face it. You care for this guy, and you've got to come to some sort of decision about . . . everything, or, you may end up hurt and . . . alone, when you find out you're nothing more to him than a vacation fling. 'I'm not just a fling to him,' Keith argued, with himself. 'If that was the case, we'd have had sex on the day we met, and we wouldn't have seen one another again. 'Are you frustrated because you haven't had sex?' his subconscious asked. 'Yeah, sort'a. Not a whole lot, though,' he added, quickly, 'but . . . sort'a.' He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. 'I've been studying too long. I'm arguing myself into circles.' Since meeting Jak, studying, and practically everything else, had taken a back seat to their slowly developing relationship. 'Now, I'm facing a couple tests, and I've done nothing more than listen in class, and I've not done that very well. Getting out'a here and over to Jak's has seemed more important than studying.' Keith grinned. 'He's questioned me, asking if I was ignoring school to be with him.' Keith remembered smiling, deflecting the question with a smile and an embrace. He stared into the distance. 'Would he ask whether I've been ignoring classes to be with him, if all he wanted to have was a vacation fling? 'Fling or not, look where I am . . . way behind in my studies, and yawning, in a library . . . accomplishing nothing. All I'm doing is daydreaming about the wonderful . . . romantic . . . times, we've had.' 'Okay, so it's not a fling. That means I need to ask myself if this man is someone I could love, or . . . more important . . . is he someone I should allow myself to love.' Last night, laying at Jak's side, and listening to his slow breathing, that question was all Keith could think about. 'He's fun to be with,' Keith thought, recalling their laughter, as they wrestled and joked around. 'He's a stellar kisser. He treats me like I've always dreamt of being treated by another man; not as a possession to be taken out and dusted off from time to time. There isn't any preconceived notion about who's a top and who's a bottom. He listens when I talk. He's tender, at times, but there's always an underlying aggressiveness about him, barely held in check. I love not quite knowing what he'll do next. He loves to hold me and dance to slow music by candlelight . . . in our underwear! He's a porn star!' Keith stared at the blinking cursor. 'That's the problem! He's a porn star. He fucks the best looking guys his employer can find. What am I to him? When he heads back to Florida, where will I be left?' He softly sorted, already knowing the answer. 'I'll be here . . . alone, wondering what he's doing tonight. What sort of life is that . . . tying myself emotionally to someone who will be hurting me every day, by just knowing what he's doing? He may not intend to hurt me, but, just because of his job, he will be. 'Can I live with that sort of life until his contract expires, in three years? And then, when it expires . . . what'll happen? I can't imagine him retiring, at age twenty-two, to become a regular run-of-the-mill college student. He's already accustomed to the large paychecks, and no matter how much he denies it, he loves the attention. Who wouldn't? But, what does that mean for me?' Keith sat a moment, absently rubbing a finger over the edge of his laptop computer. 'And then, there's his father. The way the man reacted to seeing me with Jak, told me he obviously thinks of Jak as something more than a son. If Jak and I do end up having a relationship, will his father see me as competition? Jak's never given me any indication that he thinks of his father in the same way, but . . . who knows? Can't he see how his father feels? His brother sure does. That guy plays happy-go-lucky, but he sees everything, and, no doubt, has an opinion. 'There seems to be plenty of reasons to abandon this thing, with Jak, before I get in too deep,' Keith thought, then recalled the previous night. He'd been lying awake, staring at the ceiling, lit only by the stuttering light of the remaining candles. Jak was at his side, his slow, even breaths a steady rhythm against Keith's shoulder. As with every other night, Jak had rested an arm across his chest. "To keep you from getting away," he'd joked. Jak turned over and, when he realized Keith was awake, he propped himself up on an elbow, blinked a few times, driving sleep away, and tenderly ran a hand over the smooth skin of Keith's bare chest. "Are you okay?" he murmured. "You're not sleeping." "I was watching you, and thinking," Keith answered, resting a hand on top of Jak's. "Deep thoughts?" "Yeah, sort'a." He looked at Jak with a weak smile. "About you and me?" "Yeah," Keith sighed. "I'm pretty transparent, I guess." Jak leaned close and tenderly kissed him. "Tell me your thoughts. If you're worried about the two of us, I should know what you're worried about. If I can fix it, I will. If I can't, maybe we can talk it through, so you can get some sleep." Keith heaved another sigh. "Things are gonna sound so . . . immature, when I say them out loud." "Doesn't matter. If you're bothered, we need to see what we can do to make you feel better." "Jak," Keith began, tentatively. "I know what you've said . . . about me needing to develop more self esteem, and that you like me rather than the guys down in Florida, but . . ." He shook his head. "I just can't believe it! I never thought of myself as lacking self esteem, but . . ." his voice trailed off. Jak was silent, waiting for him to finish. "If I . . . allow . . . myself to care for you, more than I already do, what will my life be like, with you down in Florida? I'm not a guy who'd demand monogamy from a partner, but geez . . . I'm afraid I'd be torturing myself, wondering who you were with today. What did you and he do? Will you be coming home, during your next break, or will you decide to stay down there? By caring for you, am I setting myself up to be lonely? "I ask myself all these questions. Then, I think about how much fun you are, how you're everything I could wish for in a man, and how easy it would be to love you." Jak tenderly caressed Keith's cheek, the candlelight casting shadows across his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "If I tell you your worries are groundless, it'll seem as if I don't take your concerns seriously. "I can't do anything to help you develop self esteem, other than to do my best to convince you that your fears about me falling for one of the guys I work with, are meaningless. Again, they're your fears, and it's easy for me to blithely tell you to ignore them. Because they are important to you, they are important me." Jak shifted position, and rested a bare leg across Keith's. 'A subtle way of telling me I'm his?' Keith wondered. "When I accepted this job, I never expected to be facing these types of problems . . . at least so soon. No, that's not right. I never even thought of these types of things. At the time, my life was more . . . simple. You weren't in it. That also means that my life was not nearly as exciting." He grinned, and tenderly ran a finger over Keith's jaw. "All I needed to consider, other than Dad's thoughts, was the money. That is what persuaded me to accept Levi's offer; not the sex, or getting away from home, or anything else. I was tired of feeling poor. I wasn't actually poor, I just felt that way. I was working all the time, and it took everything to pay for college, and to keep my car running. "Keith . . . If I had known I'd be meeting you, given where I was coming from, I still would have accepted the job. That doesn't mean I don't care for you . . . deeply. It only says something about me not wanting to have to struggle to make ends meet. If I had known you, and if I had felt about you the same as I do, I would have told myself that we'd work things out." He grinned. "I still feel that way. "Now, look at things from my point of view, for a minute." Keith nodded. "Us being parted works both ways. Yes, because of what I do, I'll be partnered with some nice looking guys. I'd be lying to you if I said I don't enjoy what I do. But," he gently laid a finger over Keith's lips, before he could say anything. "You need to remember that I work with those guys. I don't sleep with them. I don't go out to dinner, and laugh, and hold them, telling them what a wonder man they are. I enjoy what I do, and I have fun, when all of us guys get together for a barbecue, or whatever, but . . . none of 'em are you. You are the man I'd be wishing I was with. You are the man who makes me laugh. You are the man who makes my insides shiver with excitement, just by watching you come into the room. "When we're apart, I'll be like you . . . I'll be spending my nights alone, wishing we were together. I can't make that happen, though. I've signed a contract, and whenever I pledge my word, it means something to me. And . . . I have to admit, my bank account appreciates what I'm earning. "As for the future . . . after my contract ends . . . who knows? I can no more answer that than you can, about what you'll be doing in three years. I intend to go back to school when the contract runs out, but . . ." he shrugged. "Thanks," Keith murmured, reaching up to caress Jak's cheek, feeling the beard stubble, and grinning. "For?" "For being honest with me. For taking me seriously. For . . . listening. For . . ." Keith's thoughts were interrupted when his cell phone made a low sound, indicating the arrival of a text message. The sound, low though it was, still seemed loud in the silence of the library. He pushed thoughts of his and Jak's conversation from his mind, as he dug the phone out of his pocket, and smiled. "I'm missing you . . . you sexy man," the message said. "Hugs and Kisses, from your number ONE admirer." Keith looked at the computer display, which had given up any expectation that it would be needed soon, and had gone to sleep. He closed the lid, as he made a decision, then quickly tapped out a reply. "May I come over and taste your tongue, Mister Rollins?" A few moments later, he had a response. "YES, YES, YES!!!" * * * "Looks like the women have gone someplace . . . again," Rex mumbled, as he approached his parents' house. It had been the only place he'd ever lived, and he felt a deep attachment to it, but lately, it was becoming increasingly difficult to come home. Whenever the women were home, the air was tense with Aubrey's anger, and his mother's silent support of her daughter and her behavior. He'd heard his parents talk, sometimes late into the night. They never argued, but they never seemed to get anything resolved, either. 'It's damned frustrating for me,' Rex thought, as he stomped across the home's porch, ridding himself of accumulated snow, and alerting his father that he was home. "Hey, Dad!" he said, as he entered the dimly lit living room and saw his father sitting on a chair, with his feet resting on the coffee table. If Rex's mother were here and saw where his feet were resting, she would be having a fit, but, since she wasn't, her husband was doing as he pleased. Rex smiled at the small display of rebellion. 'You show her, Dad.' He dropped his book bag on a chair and shed his coat, unwinding the long scarf from around his neck, and approached his father, on stocking feet. "Hey," his father answered, sounding if he'd been asleep. "How's my boy?" "He's doing awesome," Rex responded, sitting on the arm of the chair and leaning close to embrace his father, and kiss him on the cheek. "Jak took me to dinner, then we hung out for a while. I expected Keith would be coming by, so I excused myself and came home, to see if I could irritate you in some way. After all . . . your life's free of any sort of irritation . . . right?" "There's a message for me in there, somewhere, isn't there?" Steve asked, sinking back into the cushions, after returning his son's embrace. "If I drank, I'd be drunk. If I had any other sort of noxious vice, I'd certainly be doing it." He shrugged, a hint of a smile in his voice. "But . . . since, other than the number of times I masturbate each day, I almost qualify as angelic; I'm sitting here in the dark and am quietly being grumpy." He paused a moment. "Grrrrrr," he grumbled. "That's the sound of grumpy." "Okay . . . so you're grumpy. I understand. What I don't understand is . . ." "Rex, I don't need to have you psychoanalyze my life for me, okay?" "No. I need to have some things explained to me, 'cause I'm not understanding what's going on. So . . . to continue my earlier thought, why are you tolerating this?" he asked, as he made a vague gesture. "Dad, you're not thinking! You're letting yourself be abused by those two. Do you really . . . I mean really, think things will ever be okay between you and Mom, again? Whether she said it aloud or not, your daughter . . . I refuse to call her my sister . . . gave Mom an ultimatum. 'Make a choice,' she told Mom. 'It's him or me,' and, we both know who Mom chose. Neither of them is miserable with the way they're acting. Only you, and Jak, and me, are feeling rotten." "Rex . . ." "You don't deserve to be treated like this. None of us guys do, but you, most of all. After all, you're still supporting those two, right?" Steve nodded, dejectedly. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be free, so you at least have a chance to be happy!" Steve reached out and took his son's hand. "Thanks Rex. I agree with you, but it's easier to talk about what should be done, than to actually do it." "Of course it's easier. It's also easy for me to figure out what should be done, 'cause I'm not the one who'll have to shoulder all the stuff that needs to be done, in order to be free. But, Dad . . . you've gotta realize, that you are not alone. Jak'll do whatever he can, and I am here for you, too. "Dad . . . do . . . something. Don't just sit in the dark and let them run all over you. Like I told you, out in that restaurant parking lot, a few days ago, you need to be free to find someone you can be happy with." Steve rested a hand on top of his son's. "I'm happy with you . . . and Jak." "Thanks, and I feel the same way, but . . . you know what I mean. You need to be free to find someone your own age." Rex took a deep breath. "I know you're not gonna like me saying it, but Jak has done it. He's found someone his age. You should, too." Rex knelt in front of his father. "Dad, that doesn't mean either Jak or I are going to abandon you. I intend to stick close-by, to get some of your patented hugs. I wish we could do more than just hug, but I understand how you feel." He squeezed his father's hand. "One more bit of wisdom, then I'll shut up. Please, don't beat yourself up about Jak falling for Keith. He was always your son, and loves you as a son would, but, Dad, he was never your lover. Let him love Keith, as a partner, and you, as his father. Don't do like your daughter has done, and force him to make a choice between you and Keith. You're a better man than that, and the only thing you'd end up doing is ruining your relationship with him. Don't even hint that you even dreamt of something else." "Rex . . . how . . .?" "I'm not blind . . . and neither are Jak or Keith. Don't do this to them, or to you." Rex sat back, resting against his heels. "Okay, now I'll shut up." With that, he leaned close and quickly kissed his father on the lips, then stood, grabbed his book bag, coat, and scarf, and headed down the hallway. "Think about it!" he called. Steve grinned. 'He always has to have the last word.' * * * Keith turned and leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms and looking frustrated. 'Alright . . . so I'm not very mechanically oriented, but I'm not attempting rocket science, here. I'm trying to open a frippin' can of soup, and I've never met a can opener as ornery as this one," he grumbled, glancing over his shoulder, stabbing the offending appliance with his gaze. "I bet I've tried a dozen different ways to open this friggin' can," he groused, holding the unopened can up, for Jak to see, and shaking it, "And, what happens? The damned can opener just sits there. Jak . . . I know it's laughing at me. If it was mine, I'd bang it against the wall a couple times and make threats. That usually helps . . . me . . . sort'a." He frowned. "Do you have anything constructive to suggest, or are you content to just stand there, looking oh, so superior, in that tight T-shirt and those skimpy running shorts? For a person who claims not to spend hours and hours at the gym, you are suspiciously . . . fit," he grumbled, scanning Jak up and down. "You know, of course, if you're trying to turn me on, you're succeeding, but you're not doing anything to help with the soup!" He turned back to the can opener. "I'm going to friggin' starve!" he shouted, throwing up his arms. "All because you're taking my mind off trying to figure out how to make this frippin' can opener work!" "So . . . it's all my fault?" Jak asked, as he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Keith, pressing his chest against Keith's back, and nuzzling his neck. "Ummmm, you smell good." "As much as I love what you're doing, my stomach's making noises. I need to eat, and this soup is the only thing around here that hasn't turned green and developed a case of fur. I bet some sort of new life form has been created in that refrigerator. Have you looked in there? I swear I heard a growl when I opened it a while ago!" Keith looked over his shoulder. "I'm prob'ly gonna waste away!" He turned, his eyes alight. "I know! I'll use a saw! Surely, there's a saw someplace in all this . . . junk," he said, looking around. "Or . . . better yet . . . a hammer and screwdriver! I can pound a couple holes in the can!" "You don't need a saw," Jak grinned. "Oh, yeah? Well, you show me how to open it!" Keith demanded, with hands on hips. "Easy," Jak said, acting vastly superior. "You . . . plug . . . it . . . in." "What!?" Keith grabbed the cord from Jak's hands. "And, you let me make a fool of myself! The friggin' socket is full of plugs. I figured one of 'em had to belong to that," he gestured toward the very smug appearing can opener. "So, all the while I'm starving, with my stomach making all sorts'a noises, you were laughing at me!" He quickly held out a warning hand. "And, I don't want to hear any dumb blond jokes, okay? Besides, I'm not really a blond." "Oh?" Keith turned to look at the man next to him. "Yeah, I've got brown hair, which just happens to have lots and lots of natural highlights," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Brown hair, my ass." "I can't speak for the color of hair on your ass, but . . . look. I'll prove it!" He quickly unfastened his jeans, then pushed down the front of them, just far enough to display his . . . brown . . . pubic hair. "See," he said, wearing a bright smile, as he pointed to the thick pubes. "It'd be unnatural to have blond hair and brown pubes, right?" "So . . . okay, you've got brown hair, and very handsome pubes. But, no amount of talk will convince me your naturally blond highlights are actually natural. And, one more question. Do you own a comb?" "What?" Keith shouted. "I love the windblown look." "Is that what you call it?" Jak teased, shouting loudly, as Keith dragged him into the carpeted dining room, then pulled him to the floor, where they began to wrestle, rolling from one side to the other, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. One moment, Jak was on top, eagerly kissing Keith, in a wrestling move never seen in collegiate competition. The next moment, Keith found himself on top of Jak, laughing and giggling, before mashing his open mouth against Jak's. When they parted, Keith looked into Jak's blue eyes, as he enjoyed feeling the man's weight. "Oh, my handsome boyfriend . . . you have just answered so many of my questions." * * * "I'm looking forward to having Soren back," Dave said, as he and Levi washed the breakfast dishes, while Pete mowed the lawn. "Who've you got coming down, for the next couple weeks, after this group leaves?" "Jace, Daniel, and Taylor," Levi answered, closing the dishwasher and pushing the button. "I'm curious to see how Soren will handle a couple of stronger personalities." "I'm curious about how he's doing, right now." "You miss him, don't you?" Levi asked, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms. Dave sighed. "Yeah, I do. His personality seems to . . . fill the room, whenever he's around. All the guys are great. They're all different, but great. Um, Soren's different from all of 'em. You, Pete, n' I knew it from the moment he stripped out of his clothes, back at the hotel, when he jerked off for us. There was no hesitation. He didn't ask for instructions. He just did, in front of us, what he does whenever he's alone. 'Like it or not,' this is what I'm like,' he told us, with his actions. He's such a take charge kind'a guy, I'm wondering if anyone will be able to stand up to him, or if he'll end up overwhelming anyone he's partnered with, either here, or out in the wild . . . back home. It's going to take an awfully strong personality to handle him." Levi shook his head. "No, my friend. A strong personality will never conquer Soren. Humor, though, and a sense of security . . . Those are things Jak will respond to." "Y'mean, Soren will respond to those things?" Dave asked. Levi shook his head. "No . . . Jak." * * * Keith clomped into the apartment, and slammed the door behind him, shutting out the wind and blowing snow. He dropped a bulging gym bag onto the floor, and looked disgusted, as he shrugged out of his coat. "I bet I'm not going to be able to find my frippin' car in the morning, the snow's coming down so hard! On top of that, I had to park close enough to the curb, that if a snow plow clears the street, guess where the snow will land? "This is how those ice age mammals, people keep finding, ended up being buried. I'm convinced of it. The snow plow, or the ice age equivalent, covered 'em over, and, voila', frozen Mammoth. Same's gonna happen t'my Honda. I just know it. And, I have a test tomorrow!" He raked his fingers through his hair, making a face, and grinning, as Jak looked on, listening to him complain. "I guess it'd be too much to ask that the instructor gets buried in an avalanche, or something, and they find her, frozen stiff as a board, on the last day of class." He shook his head, glaring at Jak's laughter. "You're still not resigned to the fact that I won the wrestling match, are you?" Jak teased. "Like hell!" Keith howled. "You wore out before I did! If we'd gone a couple more rounds . . . I would'a won . . . at least one of 'em," he grinned, as Jak leaned his head back and laughed. 'What a wonderful sound,' Keith thought, to himself. 'He's way too serious.' "What can I say? I'm one'a those make love . . . before anything else, sort'a guys," he said, when Jak returned his attention to him. "Besides, I never did claim to be an athlete. I'm just a scrawny little guy." Jak snorted. "Hardly." Keith brushed his hands together, as if ending an argument. "So . . . now that that's settled . . . why don't we take turns using the shower? After our impromptu bout of athleticism, I'm feeling all sticky. You sweated all over me, you know. If I don't get cleaned up soon, I'm going to start thinking I'm on a camping trip, or something. I like camping even less than I like winter. If the place doesn't have a microwave, toilet, and shower with hot and cold running water, I'm not interested." He took Jak's hand and led him to the bathroom. "C'mon, let's shower, then we can swap a little more spit before going to bed. I've gotta get up early to dig out my car and do a little last minute studying before my test tomorrow afternoon. You suppose there's a shovel in here . . . somewhere?" he asked, scanning the . . . debris. "Sure . . . okay," Jak said, as if arriving at a decision. "If I get hard, though, the instant I see you naked . . . it's your fault." "I'll take it as a compliment," Keith laughed. "I'm not sure how I'll react if you don't get hard." "The shower's only big enough for one of us at a time, though," Jak said, as they stepped over something, and entered the bathroom. Keith turned to look at whatever it was they'd just stepped over. "I've gotta ask. Why haven't you at least cleared a path to the important rooms?" "My friend called, and told me not to move anything. I'm getting tired of all this stuff, though." "Me, too," Keith said, as he began to strip. "I'm afraid to drop anything, for fear I won't be able to find it!" Keith reached into the shower and turned on the water. "Since I'm closest, I'll go first. You can sit on the counter, or something, and visit while I soap-up. Then, I'll do the same for you. Deal? Oh, could you bring in my gym bag? I've got some clean clothes in there. It's next to that dead . . . plant." "Yup. I'll be back in just a moment." With that, Jak ran out of the room. "Don't do anything important until I get back," he shouted. Keith yelled over the sound of the shower, when Jak had been gone longer than it would have taken to pick up a gym bag and return. "What am I supposed to think? I get naked and you run from the room! Sort'a shoots holes in a guy's ego. What are you doing? You're supposed to be telling me how sexy I am!" A few minutes later, Jak jogged back into the steamy bathroom and dropped the gym bag on the vanity counter. He quickly slipped out of his T-shirt, pried off his tennis shoes, and dropped his running shorts. When Keith finished rinsing his hair, and looked up, he saw Jak, naked, for the first time. "Damn! You never told me you were a stud! Even though I've seen you in your underwear . . ." His voice trailed off, as he shook his head. "As your brother would say . . . 'awesome.'" Without waiting for a comment, Keith began to vigorously scrub, making it a point to avoid looking at the man who was leaning against the bathroom vanity, watching him, with his arms crossed, wearing only a supremely confident smile. "I'll spare you my version of the song, singing-in-the-rain," Keith laughed, as he shampooed his hair, a second time. "I cracked the bathroom mirror once, when I hit a high note." "I thought you had kind'a a high voice. I thought only soprano's were able t'do that sort'a thing." "Ha ha. I'll have you know, I'm practicing to be a bass." "Some goals are unattainable." Jak teased, as he shaved. "By the way, do those natural highlights wash out?" he asked. "Do you normally wash your hair twice, during one shower? And, who's calling me a stud? I thought your brown pubes were great. They were nothing compared with everything you didn't show me." Keith paused. "Uh . . . oh, yeah. I guess I don't need t'do it twice. You've gotten me so flustered, I've forgotten what I'm doing. "So . . . where were we? Oh, yeah . . . we're both studs." Keith laughed, twisting his hips . . . and penis . . . from side-to-side, then reaching back and slapping a butt cheek. "Yeah, I'm mach-oooo! I've gotta choose a new, more macho sounding name, than Keith. Something like . . . Hank. The new name will sort'a go good with my low voice," he said, forcing his voice to be lower. "After acting all macho n'stuff, rolling around on the floor like we did, I feel sort'a butch," he laughed, as he flexed his muscles, in a parody of a body builder's routine. "Cool, huh?" he asked, nodding his head. "I saw a program about bodybuilders on television, once. I sort'a look like the before version." "You look perfect t'me," Jak said, from where he leaned against the vanity counter top, doing his best to not get erect. Finally, he settled on visualizing his sister screaming at him. That worked like a charm. "You're cool. You know how to laugh and have fun. I feel good whenever I'm around you." "Thanks," Keith said, as he stepped from the shower. As Jak slid past, to step into the shower's spray, he gave him a brief kiss. "You've got a nice butt, too," Jak added, as he let the hot water sluice over him. "You look great in your underwear, but way-nice out of 'em." "Do you clip your chest hair?" Keith asked, as he lathered up his face and began to shave, watching Jak's reflection in the mirror. "It looks great. Lots better than being shaved smooth, like lots'a guys. I have to ask, though. A smooth butt? Considering the hair on your chest, that can't be natural." Jak looked over his shoulder, as if he could see his ass cheeks. "Job requirements. They'll probably have to do it again, when I return. I've just gotten beyond the itching stage, as it's growing out. They like smooth, back there. That's okay with me, but when it starts t'grow out, it itches!" "Oh," Keith laughed, "Is that why you're squirming around all the time?" "Noooooo. I'm squirming 'cause I'm trying t'get into a comfortable position, 'cause I'm hard almost all the time I'm around you. You bring out the best in a guy," Jak laughed, as he turned his back to Keith. "Well, from what I just saw in the mirror . . . stud . . . your best is pretty damn awesome." Keith pulled out a pair of clean underwear from his gym bag and slipped them on, as Jak finished his shower. "Now, hurry up. I'm 'bout dead on my feet, and I don't want to fall asleep before we've had a chance to suck tongue," Keith said, as he left the bathroom. When Jak came back into the living room, Keith was standing in the middle of the room. He turned, his eyes sparkling. "You are about the sweetest man possible. You know that?" He gestured toward the candles. "When'd you have a chance to light all these?" "I lit 'em when I came out here t'get your gym bag. I wanted 'em to be lit when we both finished." Jak grinned, as he brought Keith to him in a loose embrace. "The folks at the candle shop are beginning to really like me. The lady teased me today, wondering how many romantic evenings, in a row, I could possibly have. 'Different person each night?' she asked. When I shook my head, her eyes got big. 'Lucky person, is all I've got t'say,' she smiled. "'D'ya hear that?' she nudged her husband, who was standing nearby, as I waved, and left. 'Maybe that young man could give you a lesson or two.'" "She has absolutely no idea how lucky," Keith murmured, as Jak stepped into an embrace. * * * Both men looked up as a sudden gust of wind-driven sleet and snow slammed against the living room window. There was a slight pause, before an even stronger blast, accompanied by a wailing howl, caused the candles surrounding the living room to flicker. "I'm betting classes are going to be cancelled tomorrow," Keith murmured, drawing Jak closer. It was wonderful to be skin-to-skin, as the man he was hugging was fond of saying. He could feel the muscles of Jak's lower back tense and relax, with each movement. He ran his open palms over the fabric of Jak's underwear, pleased with the resulting groan of pleasure, as their tongues fought with one another's. "I'm not trying to rush things," Keith murmured, "but you feel so friggin' good, I'd really like to, at least, jack off together." Jak hummed a response and ground himself into Keith's groin. "I'd like to do more than that, but, I have plans for when that happens." He kissed the tip of Keith's nose. "I'd like it to be extra special . . . for both of us. S'okay? "Being with you is always great, but," Jak made a face, as he scanned the apartment, "We need someplace better than this for the first time we make love." "Is that what we'll be doing? Making love?" Keith murmured, as he kissed over Jak's neck, cheek, and jaw. "Sounds way more serious than just having sex." Jak backed up slightly, and looked Keith in the eyes. "I don't want to have sex with you. That's nothing more than two guys getting their rocks off." He grinned. "Nothing wrong with that, but it's too . . . impersonal . . . mechanical . . . something done by a couple guys who could very well be strangers, and may never see each other again." He buried his face in the crook of Keith's neck, and kissed a line to his ear. "I intend to hang around you for a long . . . long . . . time, if you'll have me." "Ohhhh," Keith exhaled, feeling as if he could burst with happiness. All the fears he thought of, sitting in the study carrel in the library, disappeared, blown away with the snow. It didn't matter that he and Jak would be parted, for weeks at a time. His fears about Jak's job, and the men he would be partnered with, seemed insignificant. Jak and he were together. Tomorrow did not seem important . . . only Jak's words, and his warmth as they held one another. "I have never made love to another man before." Jak's murmur was soft against the continuing sound of the wind. "The man would have to be extra special." He licked across Keith's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "And . . . like it or not . . . you are the one." He paused slightly, as he felt Keith take a shuddering breath. "It would be awesome if you felt the same way about me." "Ohhhh, my handsome . . . boyfriend . . . I do, I do." * * * Rex turned from his computer, at the knock on his bedroom door. "Enter!" he called, using what he considered to be a British accent. "Hey," his father said, as he stuck his head into the room. "Y'have a minute?" "Sure, Dad. For you, I've always got waaaay more than a minute. C'mon in," he smiled, gesturing to the unmade bed. "Have a seat." He watched as his father eased himself onto the bed. "So . . . what's up?" Steve cleared his throat. "Um, I . . . I want to thank you . . . for making me face the truth . . . about Jak," he looked away, "and, myself. Y'know," the older man continued more easily, now that the most difficult part of what he had to say, had been said. "Y'know, I don't think that I consciously thought of myself and Jak having some sort of relationship . . . beyond father and son . . . until you made me look at what I was actually thinking . . . deep down. "Y'see, it's been years since I've had any sort of sexual contact with another man. It was before you were born, in fact." He grinned. "I guess I should say, until you and I masturbated together, it had been years. "Anyhow, seeing Jak . . . um . . . perform, and facing all the . . . difficulties you and I are facing, here at home, I guess, those things, combined, made me begin to see Jak as something more than a son. It was wishful thinking, but it took you, my wonderful son, to throw some cold water onto my face, and make me wake up to reality. "You're also right about me needing to do something about your mother and our . . . marriage. During one of our recent conversations, after you'd gone to bed, she told me she'd been offered a teaching position at an elementary school, out of state. I think she was looking for some sort of reaction." Steve softly snorted. "All I could do was look at her. I wanted to say something profound . . . something which would have told her that I wished things had worked out differently, between us, but . . ." Steve shrugged. "I couldn't . . . there was nothing to say. I truly loved your mother, once, and I think she loved me. But . . . things have changed. "Aubrey's only a small part of it . . . probably the most visible, but not the whole problem. Your mother likes to have total control over things, and has never liked that she hasn't been able to make me do her bidding. Then . . . when I discussed Jak being gay, with her, she felt more control slipping away." Steve tiredly smiled, and shook his head. "Returning to being an elementary school teacher will be perfect for her. She will have total control over the children whom she is teaching. She's a good teacher. She's a good woman, and . . . she's been a good mother, for many years, but . . ." "Things have changed," Rex supplied, when it appeared his father wasn't able to go on. "Dad, do you think of yourself as being gay?" Steve shrugged. "I don't know," he gustily sighed. "I like the camaraderie of being with a man. It's totally different than being with a woman. I love experiencing the strength of another man, and I love sex with another man. That's not to say I didn't love your mother's and my sexual relationship. But . . . with a man . . . I don't know how to say it. It's just," he hesitated, "more satisfying; not only physically, but mentally. "That's the sort of relationship I was imagining having with Jak. I wasn't seeing him as my son, but as another man, with whom I would have loved to have sex." "How do you see me?" Rex asked, not meeting his father's eyes. "Rex . . ." Steve's voice faded away. "Am I someone you'd love to have sex with, or do you think I'm too young to know what I want . . . that it'd be wrong for us t'do more than we did that day in your office? "I . . ." Steve shrugged. "I'd be substituting Jak with you." "No, you wouldn't. Jak never knew how you felt. It was a one-sided thing. With me, it wouldn't be. Dad," Rex leaned forward. "There's nothing I can do about my age, or the fact that I'm your son. Even if I could, I wouldn't change either of 'em. I also can't change the fact that I'm drawn to guys older than me. "I'm not asking for us to be lovers, or anything. Like I told you a while back, you need to be free to find someone your own age. But . . . until that happens . . ." Rex's voice faded away. Steve swallowed, in a throat suddenly gone dry. "What sort of relationship are you suggesting, if not lovers?" "Hell, I don't know! A guy-guy relationship. Dad . . . I lay in here each night and wish someone would hold me. With all the stuff going on between you n' Mom, I feel sort'a . . . I don't know . . . vulnerable, I guess. The times you've hugged me have been wonderful. The warmth of being near you has made me feel so good. "As far as what sort'a relationship I'm looking for, I . . . I guess I'd like to sleep with you, hug you, be able to . . . kiss you, and masturbate together. I'm not asking for more than that. "I'm thinking that we both need to be held, and be told that someone loves us. We both need to feel another person's warmth at night. And," he said, with a mischievous twinkle, "it'd be friggin' hot to jerk off with you." Steve burst out laughing. "Now, you're sounding like the son I know and love. I'm not accustomed to seeing the serious side of you, Rex. I'm pleased it's there, but I like the other side of your personality, too. Don't ever lose that, okay? Don't let me, or anyone else, tell you to act your age, or grow up. If only Jak had some of what you have." "Oh . . . Jak doesn't need anything else. He's just doesn't show his laughing side to everyone. It's there. Keith brings it out. They're in love, you know." Steve bowed his head. "Yes, I know. I hope neither one of them is hurt by Jak being in Florida, so much of the time." * * * "Umm . . . Jak laughed, uneasily. "Now, what do we do?" He seemed flustered. "I mean, I know what to do. Geez. I know how to masturbate, but . . ." he helplessly shrugged, as Keith grinned. "I think, first of all, I need to do something about your underwear." "Oh . . . I can," Jak began. "No . . . I can do it better," Keith chuckled. "You just stand still while I get these off you. Then, you can do mine. Then . . . we can cum. "Uh . . . It's not gonna take me long, I'm so worked up," Jak muttered. "Well, don't shoot in my face. Let's save that for later." "Oh, geez," Jak shuddered. "Saying that didn't help." He watched as Keith knelt in front of him. Another blast of wind and snow buffeted the windows, but went ignored, as Keith knelt, with Jak's cock only inches from his face. 'I don't know if this was such a good idea,' he wondered. He chewed his lower lip, already feeling puffy, from their kissing, and told himself that Jak wanted to wait. 'Okay, we wait. But, it'd better not be for too long, that's all I have to say. If that special situation doesn't hurry up, I'm gonna attack him.' While Jak did his best to stand still, Keith reached up and teased Jak's nipples. The reaction was instantaneous. Jak hissed, and thrust his hips forward in an involuntary reaction. "Hurry, Keith," he mumbled, as he bounced a couple times, on the balls of his feet. "I need t'be naked. I need t'shoot." "Will you shoot on me?" Keith asked, as his hands moved to gently massage Jak's muscular buttocks. "All over my chest," he added. "Yes. Oh, yes!" Jak groaned, rocking his hips in a silent demand to be free of his underwear. "Will you shoot on me, too? On my chest?" he almost whimpered. 'Enough teasing,' Keith told himself. He grasped the waistband of Jak's underwear and eased them down, freeing the erection, which sprang free and slung a strand of pre-cum across his lips. Keith flinched, as the cock almost hit him in the face. Then, realizing what had happened, he quickly licked his lips, savoring his first taste of the man he'd secretly come to think of as his lover. 'Damn, but he's beautiful,' Keith thought. Jak dropped to his knees. He tenderly held Keith's head with both hands, then, leaned close, to barely touch lips. "Thank you," he murmured. "For . . . for . . . everything," he hesitated, seemingly content to stare into Keith's eyes. "Jaaaak," Keith murmured. The man kneeling in front of him blinked. "My underwear." He looked down, to his bulging pouch. "Oh, yeah . . . sorry," Jak mumbled, his smile flickering, as he glanced from Keith's face to the underwear, then back. "I . . . I just want to remember this, forever." Keith chuckled. "Maybe we should film it, eh?" When Jak's eyes lit, he amended his suggestion. "Then again, maybe not. You just like seeing yourself on film," he teased. "I've never . . ." His murmur was barely audible over the groaning sound of the wind. Keith wiggled. "I've got'a shoot." He paused, as Jak flicked him a glance. "Soon! So, get the frippin' underwear off me!" "Yessir." Keith searched for any sign of sarcasm in the reply, and found none. 'How can he be Soren, and behave as that character does, and be Jak, who seems totally different?' Jak pulled the waistband of Keith's underwear over his erection, then paused, meeting Keith's eyes. "Ohhhh, yessss," he exhaled, as he tenderly ran his fingers through the blond man's . . . brown . . . pubes, and down the length of his penis. A moment later, he sat back on his heels and looked up. "Shoot on me," he ordered. "Now . . . Do it!" 'Uuuu. There's no doubt. Soren is someplace inside Jak's head.' Keith scrambled to his feet, and stood with one foot on either side of Jak's bent legs. He wiped his erection across Jak's cheek, leaving behind a shiny trail. "Soon, I'm gonna shoot in you instead of on you," he said, in a low voice. The only response he got was a slight, open-mouth nod, as Jak watched him, seemingly mesmerized by the slow motion of Keith's hand, as he stimulated himself. Jak licked his lips, searching for more of his partner's pre-cum. When he didn't find any, he swiped a finger over his cheek, then sucked on it, while he began to slowly work his own cock. "C'mon, sexy," he murmured, "Lemme see you shoot." "Aw, yeah," Keith groaned, as his legs began to tremble, and the familiar pressure began to build. It had been a couple days since he'd shot . . . in one of the remote bathrooms of the library. Two stalls down, a couple men were fucking, and the sounds they were making, plus his built-up desire for Jak, were enough to produce a massive orgasm. He groaned, knowing the men would hear him, as the first shot splashed against the toilet stall wall. 'I hope someone finds it before it dries,' he thought, as he smiled and stuffed himself into his jeans. "Did'ya shoot?" a voice coming from the occupied stall asked. "Yeah, all over the wall," he answered, as he left the bathroom. "If y'need some extra lube, it's there for you t'use." 'Now, I'm gonna shoot on Jak,' he thought. When he looked down, he could see Jak fisting his own cock. He closed his eyes and thrust his hips forward, as the sensation centered on his prostate exploded, and his sperm splashed against Jak's chest. "Aw, fuck," Jak groaned, when Keith had finished. He quickly stood. "Down," he ordered. Keith dropped to his knees, and watched as Jak teased himself with exquisitely slow hand movements. One slow stroke. A second, combined with a gentle tug of his scrotum, and, wham! Without warning, Jak's cock . . . erupted . . . blasting what could only be called a jet of sperm, which hit Keith's cheek, causing him to flinch. The second shot hit his chin; the third, his chest. 'Holy fuck!' he wanted to shout. 'I've never seen anything like that!' He couldn't help himself. Before Jak had caught his breath, he wiped his hand across his cheek and chin, pushing as much of Jak's juice into his mouth as he could. It was thicker than his own; salty, with a lingering, spicy aftertaste. Jak knelt and followed Keith's lead, scraping as much of the earlier load as he could, onto a hand. Then, as Keith watched, he tilted his head back, opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and let Keith's sperm slowly form a thick strand, which extended toward his open mouth, before breaking and landing on his tongue. "Fuck, you taste good," he exhaled; then surprised Keith, by pushing him onto his back. He leaned close and licked over the head of Keith's shrinking cock; then gave him a tongue bath, cleaning up all of his own sperm, working his way up Keith's body until their lips met. "Lemme taste you," Keith mumbled, clambering to his knees as Jak laid back. He held the cock at the base, and milked out one last pearl of semen; then licked across the cock's head; then up Jak's belly and chest, cleaning all of his own sperm, until they met for another kiss. Then . . . they began to laugh. Hesitantly at first, then uproariously, as all the built up tension of their relationship had been released, and they kissed a last time before they located their pillows, snuggled close to one another, and pulled the blankets over their shoulders. Outside, the snow continued to blow, and the wind to howl.
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