Shooting Matt Ch. 20

Randy and Kent make it back to Cleveland. Liam rejoins Matt.

Thanks to LarryInSeattle.

Enjoy (I hope).

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As we got closer and closer to home, the idea of sleeping on a bed shoved into the middle of the room and surrounded by other furniture had become progressively agonizing. I'm beat. Kent looks exhausted, too and we still have the ordeal of the evening dressing change ahead of us. I damn near cry when we get there and I see that Liam's finished painting my bedroom. Not only that, he's put all the furniture back in place.

I drop our two small bags on the floor of the bedroom and return to the kitchen. Kent is sitting at the table and Liam is pouring him a glass of what looks like lemonade.

"Liam, buddy, thank you so much for finishing up in the bedroom. I can't tell you how much I was dreading having to deal with that when we got home. Thank you."

As I'm speaking, Kent is sampling his lemonade. He takes a sip, then a gulp. He nearly drains the glass before setting it down. He lowers his head to the table so quickly I start toward him.

"That is the best limeade I have ever tasted in my life. Liam, your dad may be in ecstasy about the bedroom but he hasn't tasted this yet."

"Thanks, but you're just thirsty from the drive," Liam says. He's blushing.

"I am thirsty but that's beside the point. This is delicious."

"It's just plain old limeade with a little ginger, honey, mint, and some fizzy water."

"Yeah, plain old limeade," Kent scoffs. "Pour your dad a glass."

He does. I take a drink. And drain the glass.

"Glenna had better hire you and branch out. Between the two of you, we'll all be rich," I tell him, shaking my hand and holding out the glass.

"Sit down. I figured you guys would be hungry." He's still blushing.

He re-fills our glasses and I take a seat.

"How you holding up?"

"I've been better," Kent admits. "But I've been worse." He takes a drink and stares at the glass. "Liam," he calls over his shoulder. "You didn't put oxy or anything in this, did you? I swear my hands aren't hurting as much."

"No, but I have tried it with vodka. Would that work?"

"Probably, but not on an empty stomach."

"Where'd you get vodka? You aren't twenty-one."

He looks at me in mock horror. "Oh, my God. You're right. What was I thinking? Don't send me back to the reformatory, father, please. It's horrible there. I can't stand the thought of it."

Kent snickers.

"Ha-ha. Be careful though." I shake my head. I know he's a good kid, actually a great kid but I'm a father and I worry. That's what fathers do.

"Sir! Yessir!" He throws his shoulders back and snaps his heels together, giving me a palm-forward British salute. The effect is diminished, given he's bare-footed.

Kent snickers again. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "Encouraging mutiny among the crew will get you a hundred lashes and keel-hauled."

"Lashes? Really? How exciting." He flutters his eyes at me. It's Liam's turn to snicker, except he laughs out loud instead. "Besides, mon capitaine, Liam said, 'yessir' not 'aye aye, sir' making your nautical reference nonsensical. Nonsensical but cute and your point is valid." Kent leans over and kisses the back of my hand.

He starts to say something else but is quieted by the platters Liam sets on the table.

"I had to get limes anyway, so I made ceviche. I didn't think you'd want anything too heavy in the heat and after driving most of the day." He points to the other platter. "This is just a cucumber and watermelon salad."

"'Just a cucumber and watermelon salad', he says." Kent shakes his head at me.

I stare at my son.

"When did you learn to cook like this?"

"I took a couple classes in high school, remember? There's nothing very complicated about either of these. If you have fresh fish and good watermelon, you're home free."

While he's talking, he grabs plates and forks and sets them in front of us

Kent scoops up a forkful of ceviche and pops it in his mouth. He closes his eyes. Chews. Swallows. "Randy, I officially love your son," he mutters, eyes still closed.

Liam beams.

Me? I beam, too.

Liam claims he's full from sampling the food as he prepared it and excuses himself to call Matt. I can't hear what he's saying but it's clear he's excited. I don't blame him.

"You heading out in the morning?"

"Yeah, if that's okay?"

"No, that's fine. Although, maybe I should pull parental rank and demand you stay and cook." I put a hand on his arm. "Liam, seriously, all this was simply unbelievable. Thank you. I want you to make both dishes and the limeade for Glenna and Leon when you get back."

"They won't want to serve this, pop. It's a snack bar."

"The limeade would fit right in, other than selling faster than you can probably make it. Plus, I think that place could become something more than just a snack bar."

He nods, but it's clear from the look on his face that I have not convinced him.

"Kent, you want to take a shower while I do the dishes and then we'll tackle the dressings?"

"I can do the dishes," Liam says, reaching for my plate.

"No, you did all of this. I'll do dishes."

"C'mon, Liam," Kent offers, rising from the table. "I might need help with the faucet but it'll be okay if the dressings get a little wet since they need to be changed anyway."

They disappear down the hall and I get started on the small stack of dishes. Liam is a clean-up-as-you-go cook, so there's not much other than the plates and silverware.

I'm done in only a few minutes and wander down the hallway.

Kent is bent over at the waist; Liam is washing his hair. He stands, water streaming off his hair and over his body. Damn, he looks good, even with those silly billowy bandages around his hands.

"That must feel good. That's the first time getting your hair washed, isn't it?" I ask, leaning against the sink.

Kent turns, leans backward, letting the water wash his hair, what's left of it, back over his head. When he stands, he automatically reaches up to push the water out of his hair. He hesitates, remembering the bandages.

"I gotcha," Liam offers. He uses a hand towel to gently start drying Kent's hair, avoiding the angry looking burns along the top of his forehead.

When he's done, I offer Kent a hand out of the tub. Liam drapes another towel over his shoulder and then walks past us.

I feel like a total dick for doing it but I glance at the front of my son's shorts. They're flat and I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief.

Kent's dick looks as lovely as always but it's also nice and unaroused. Another inward sigh, another silent, God you're such an insecure dick and I help him dry off.

"Thank you," he tells me, as I tuck the towel around his waist.

"My pleasure," I tell him truthfully. "Let's see if I can brush your hair into some sort of shape."

Kent is looking at his head in the mirror. "The bandages on my head were dry but let's re-dress the burns on my scalp. That might keep me from forgetting and scratching them in my sleep."

"Sure, you're the boss when it comes to this."

We make our way back to the kitchen after a short detour to the bedroom to grab the bag with the ointment and bandages.

"You need any help?" Liam is sitting at the table, flipping through a magazine.

"Print media?" I gasp. "Don't tell me you dropped your phone in the toilet or something?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "I didn't imagine an old fart like you had an internet connection. Do you need help?"

"That would be great. Us old farts, tire easily."

"No doubt."

"I've heard of them," Kent offers.

My son and I stare at him.

"No Doubt. Gwen Stefani. I've heard of that band."

Liam shakes his head but he's smiling.

He follows Kent and me to the sink. I unwrap his hands. It's hard to tell how much the blisters have been oozing, since the bandages got a wet, but I don't see much of the yellow staining I saw the day before and the burns don't seem any redder. Kent looks at his hands intently, turning them over, spreading his fingers until he winces. He nods, seemingly satisfied.

I adjust the water and wash his hands with the antiseptic liquid soap with a gentle piece of gauze I've learned to call a "4 by 4". Liam watches intently.

"Can I do the other hand?"

I open another 4 by 4 and offer it to him. He squirts soap on the gauze and starts to work. He's totally absorbed in what he's doing. When he's done I hand him a clean towel and he pats Kent's hands dry. I stand behind him and watch as Kent walks him through the process of applying the ointment and re-dressing his hands. Liam does it as smoothly and confidently as he's done this hundreds of times.

"Very nice. Excellent," Kent tells him.

I admit it. I feel a twinge of jealousy deep in the back of my brain. It's my job to take care of Kent.

"I've been thinking about nursing school," Liam offers, looking hesitant. "Since, hanging out in the hospital with Matt," he concludes looking at me. He seems nervous.

"Liam, I think that would be outstanding," I tell him. "I had no idea you'd been thinking about that. That would be terrific."

"You'd be a great one. I can tell that already." Kent offers.

"I'll need to change my major."

"So? Change your major," I tell him.

"It might add a semester. I'm light on some of the science courses."

"Again. So?"

"You know, money and stuff."

"Don't worry about it, Liam. It's fine." I give him a bear hug and lift him up into the air. "This is fantastic."

"Settle down, pop. I have to get in first."

"Piece of cake. Us Biglands is real smart peoples."

Liam steps back, shaking his head. "Uh, yeah. Cool." He waves a hand at us. "I'm beat. I think I'll go read a little and go to sleep. See ya in the morning."

"'Night. Thanks for the help," Kent replies.

"Yeah, and for dinner. Night. And seriously, make the ceviche and limeade for Leon and Glenna." I can't help but add the last. I'm a dad.

My intention had been to simply snuggle up close and go to sleep but Kent's dick got hard in my hand and my cock got hard against his back. Then he rolled over to face me and, well, somehow his beautiful dick ended up in my mouth.

I missed his hands in my hair as I knelt over his body with his dick in my mouth. What if his dick had been burned? I tell my stupid head to STFU and concentrate.

Mmm, there's that little bump, on the underside of his shaft, just below the crown, where his foreskin attached. God, I'm glad I didn't let them cut Liam. Liam? Why the fuck are you thinking about Liam? Think about the way Kent's cock feels against your tongue. How soft but hard it is, the softer underside is where his cum will come barreling out to flood your mouth? How it will swell first and then...bam!

My brain speaks to me in the third person.

Wrap your tongue around the crown. Tease his cock. No need to dive right in, so to speak. Flick the V with the tip of your tongue. Push the tip of your tongue into his cum hole. Cup his balls. Slide your lips up and down the side of the shaft. Let your nose press into the junction between his sack and thigh. Inhale. Savor. Back up the shaft with those lips. Tug on his balls a little. Down the other side. Back to the crown. Flick. Taste. Flick.

Now, now take it all, relax, don't gag, one smooth fluid motion until your throat is full of cock and your nose full of pubic hair. That's it. Hold it. Hold it. Press your tongue against the underside. Shake your head a little. Pull back slow, slower. Follow with your hand, twisting. Don't pull the skin, stupid. Gentle.

Purse your lips around the crown. Pop. Again. Pop. Pop. Lips down the side. Flick his left nut with your tongue. Stroke him. Suck his nut into your mouth. Tug, but oh so softly. Slide your mouth back to the crown. Flick. Taste. Pop. Down to the right. Right nut in your mouth.

Back up.

Take it all.

Hum, moan, turn your throat into a vibrating sleeve full of his cock. Don't you dare gag.

Stop. He's close. Get your mouth off his cock, stupid! Squeeze the head.

"Oh, Randy. Don't stop. I'm so close."

We know that but not yet. Ignore him. Push his balls up. Tongue his taint. Rim him? Yeah, maybe not tonight. If he cums he'll probably fall asleep before you can get him hard enough again to fuck you. Ask him to fuck you. Go on. Ask him. You want him to cum in your mouth? Fine by me. Fine by me.

The thought of Kent nutting in my mouth is enough to shut my fucking head down and leave me free to enjoy the sucking of his most glorious tool.

I basically go back to what I was doing, alternating working the head, the shaft his balls. When I feel him get close again, I pull back and hold the head of his cock between my lips and stroke him. I don't want him to cum deep in my throat. I want it in my mouth, where I can taste it, that indefinable, but definitely not salty, taste of cum.

He shudders, arching his back, trying to push his cock deeper into my throat. I pull back and take his load on my tongue. When he's finished, I swallow and then very gently take him deep into my throat. I know how sensitive his cock is. I just hold him, breathing through my nose, letting him start to get soft.

I crawl up beside him, careful of his hands.

"That was unbelievably good," he whispers. "Lay back."

My cock is throbbing against his leg.

"No, baby. Go to sleep. You must be wiped out. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"If I change my mind I'll jerk off against your leg. How 'bout that?"

"No, on my ass," he whispers and rolls on to his side. He pushes his ass against my cock.

"Thank you, Randy. For everything. Being there. Putting up with my mom. Everything."

"Not a problem, Kent. Thank you for letting me be there. Go to sleep."

He mutters something, then his breathing settles into the slow deep rhythms of sleep.

***

Randy's house was built at a time when married couples with kids no longer fucked or that would seem to have been the belief.

Liam can't help but hear the squeak of the bed, the soft moans, the sigh, the whispers, and then the soft snores of his father.

He knows what they're doing. He can see it in his head but it's not them he sees. In his head, it's Matt's cock and his mouth, and Matt's mouth and his cock. His ass. Matt's ass.

In the end, it's Matt's cock in his ass. He's on his back, rolled up in a ball, sucking his own cock as Matt fucks him. The rolled up in a ball sucking his own cock part is true enough. He's getting pretty good at it. He can get half the head between his lips. He bets that with Matt's weight, Matt fucking him, he can get the whole head in his mouth.

The thought makes him cum. He tries to tell if his cum tastes different than Matt's. He can't be sure. They could do a taste test. Would that be weird or hot? They could both cum in separate cups or something. Matt would blindfold him, offer him the cups at random. Would he be able to tell if he was given the same one twice?

He lowers his body back to the bed, suddenly aware of how fucking creaky it is. He doesn't hear the snoring any more. Shit, did he wake his dad? He shrugs his shoulders in the darkness of his room. So? What's the big deal? He heard them.

***

"Want me to change the dressings before I take off?"

Kent examines his bandaged hands. I look with him. I don't see any wet areas, no yellow areas.

He shakes his head. "No, I think we can go to once a day, unless I get them dirty." He gives my son a smile. "Thanks, Liam. I'm serious. I think you'd make a terrific nurse, top notch. Think about it."

"Don't need to," Liam replies. "Once, it came to me it was totally clear. That's what I want to do. I'll email my advisor when I get back to Cedar Lodge."

"Outstanding, bud. I'm so friggin' excited, I got friggin' goose bumps," I tell him as I open my arms for a hug.

"Okay, dad." He pulls back and gives me a look. "I'm glad you're excited but when you get excited you tend to get a little weird. Let me do this okay? I'll ask you when I need help."

"You mean you don't need me to research what the best nursing schools are, the top ten mistakes when applying, the pitfalls of X and the advantages of Z, that sort of thing?"

"Yeah, exactly, that sort of thing."

"I'll do my best but let me share a little of the enthusiasm. Okay?"

"Sure." He kisses my cheek. He surprises me when he kisses Kent on the cheek. He surprises Kent as well.

"Drive careful and call me. Right?"

"Right, dad."

"Give Matt, a hug for me."

He nods, hops in the car and takes off.

There's a palpable sense of, if not sadness, something close to it. I feel it every time I wave goodbye to my son. I suppose I always will. I know he has his own life to get on with but that doesn't make me miss him any less.

Even Kent is quiet.

"Sorry. I'm always a little mopey when Liam leaves."

"Don't be. I miss him too. When he kissed me goodbye I swear I thought I was going to cry."

I smile at him and smack him on the shoulder. "Come on, keep me company while I move those goddamn fucking sprinklers."

He's not much company. He stays on the driveway. I had an idea while I was lugging the hose to the far end of the yard.

"Let's get cleaned up. I have an idea."

Kent looks at me.

"You'll see," I reply to his unasked question.

***

"I haven't been to a record store in years," Kent tells me as I hold open the door.

"Neither have I. When you left the other day, I thought when you came back I'd show you some of my favorite places in Cleveland, then I realized, I hadn't seen most of them myself in a decade or more. I wasn't even sure this place would still be here."

It was pretty much as I remembered it. Bin after bin of old LPs, singles. More bins of CDs, maybe fewer of those than ten years ago. There are a lot more vinyl LPs than before. The disc washers and accoutrements of LP care were once more on display. The display case of 'tobacco' pipes and hookahs was still there. Hell, I'm not even sure the tee shirts were any different -- Beatles, Stones, Clapton, Clash, Sex Pistols, Tupac.

"This okay?" I ask.

"Are you kidding me? This is great."

"Good. Wander around. I'm gonna pick out an album I think you have to hear but bet you haven't and get it for you. You want to do the same?"

He grins and nods.

I was thinking something early, Revolver, Beggar's Banquet or maybe Sticky Fingers. Or some early snarling, screaming punk. Instead, I found myself stuck, unable to decide between Bowie's The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars or his later, Reality. I love both. They had both in vinyl. I wasn't even sure my old turntable still worked. Fuck it. This was my idea, my rules. The price for vinyl gave me google eyes but what the fuck. Then, of course, I had to buy a disc washer. The clerk recommended an AT95e needle cartridge for my old Linn Axis turntable. I'd bought it off a friend's dad when he went all digital.

I hide my choices behind my back and tell Kent to move away from the register until I pay.

"Hey, do you have two?"

I nod.

He laughs. "Cheater. So, do I."

"Did you get vinyl?"

"No, CDs. I don't have a turntable."

"No sweat. CDs are fine." I see the kid behind the counter turn up his nose at that comment.

I hand him the LPs.

"Nice." He draws up the word making it polysyllabic. "I can't believe he's fucking dead. Fucking sucks, dude."

"Yeah, I know. I couldn't believe it."

After I've paid and made sure the covers aren't visible through the bag I motion Kent over.

I turn my back.