Shooting Matt Ch. 23

Randy rents his house. He and Kent get their freak on.

Thanks to LarryInSeattle.

Enjoy but remember, electrical play near the heart is dangerous. This is a work of fiction, not an instruction manual.

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"Not to be a nag or anything but have you given any thought to where you'll be living?"

My head is resting on Kent's belly. My mouth tastes of his cum. He's not nagging but his question is not something that is on my mind at the moment. I'd been thinking about whether he'd suck my cock in return. Or let me fuck him. That would be a totally acceptable alternative. Instead of answering, I take his softening dick back in my mouth. He hisses a little. His dick is still sensitive but relaxes as I gently suck and caress it with my tongue. I hold it in my mouth until it's soft. It falls to his belly. I kiss it and let my head rest on his belly again.

His fingers pluck at my hair. His hands are much better. He works at them, opening and closing his fist, almost obsessively. We're lying on an air mattress in my empty house. My suitcase and box of books are in the back of the Ranger.

"The camper," I finally reply. "For now, anyway."

I'd found an old camper shell for sale, only a hundred and twenty-five bucks. It was ugly. All the color had been bleached away by years of sunlight. On the other hand, it looked right with the Ranger and it seemed waterproof, at least it stood up to the blasting I gave it with the hose. I put the suitcase and books inside of a big plastic bin with a flip lock cover just to be extra careful. I already had a Pelican case for my camera gear. The camper shell had room for that gear plus my camp stove and the air mattress. I was good to go. I stowed my new laptop in the cab, behind the seat.

"Don't you think that'll get old pretty quick?"

"Probably, but if I can stick it out through the summer and into the fall, that's a big chunk of that first quarter's rent check I can sock away for a rainy day."

"You can stay with me."

"I know. And I probably will, more than I imagine and maybe more than you expect. Let's not add the stress of living together on top of everything else; not yet. Okay?" I kiss his dick once again. "Besides, aren't you selling your condo?"

"Yeah, but I'm buying a place, not hitting the road like the Joads."

I run my finger over his dick. It's so soft but it can get so hard. It's such a small thing, not that he's got a little dick, but even a porn star dick is such a little thing in reality. In the scheme of things, his dick is a small thing. It's not the reason I'm lying here, playing with it. It's a small thing but it's attached to him and that makes it a very large thing.

"I won't be living in a box and bathing in filthy gas station bathrooms. Leon and Glenna said it was fine if I parked it at the resort. I even convinced them to let me pay them a little something for rent. I'll be at your place on your days off, as often as you want me. Relax, Kent. I'm not gonna stop shaving and bathing and become a hermit. I'm just untethering myself; from things, not from you." I continue to rub my finger over his soft cock. "What a weird thing a penis is." I'm speaking to myself as much as to Kent. "What is it about such a bizarre appendage that is so fucking mesmerizing?"

"May I do a little research before answering? Come on," he urges. "Scoot up here and lie down on this thing you call a mattress. Let me suck your dick while I ponder your question."

Fine by me.

What a weird thing the mouth is, able to - fuck it.

His mouth feels way nice around my cock.

That's all I need to know. No analysis required.

***

We have to hurry. I don't want Roy and Kate to walk in on us naked. As it is, the air mattress is deflated and stowed in the camper long before they pull into the drive with the Ryder truck. It had taken me all of a minute to say, 'yes' when Roy called to ask about renting. Dale balked a bit at the lowball price I'd quoted them, reminding me that he was the leasing agent. When I got it through to him that this was a couple that would take great care of the place and would probably be there at least five years before they both finished school, he settled down.

Roy and Kate greeted Kent first. I got it. They'd shared an experience that I could only imagine. I don't envy them. They'd watched a man die on the side of the road. For a moment, they'd thought Kent and the baby would die as well, burned alive, trapped in a car. Fuck, get the shit outta your head, I tell myself as Kate turns to give me a hug.

"Randy, you're letting us steal this place. I almost feel ashamed," she tells me as she steps away.

"Don't. It's a fair price and if it's a little low for the market it's because that's the premium I'm willing to pay to know I'll have folks renting the place that will take care of it, enjoy it, and treat each other nice in it." I can't help it. I grab her hands and grin at her like a lunatic. "I can't tell you how excited I am for the two of you, nursing school, settin' up house together. I barely know you and I'm as happy as if you were my sister, or my brother," I add, looking over at Roy. I hand one set of keys to Kate and toss a second to Roy. He snatches them out of the air overhanded. Nice. "You guys want help unloading?"

"No," Roy replies, waving his hand. "We don't have that much stuff. We'll be fine."

"It'll go faster if we all pitch in," Kent offers. I agree but I'm not sure I want him carrying boxes with his healing mitts.

He does that crazy fucking Jedi mind thing again. Before I can say I word, he looks at me and says, "Don't worry Randy, Kate and I'll supervise and you and Roy can do all the sweating."

"No, really, it's okay," Kate insists but I see what I'm pretty sure is a gleam of hope deep in her eyes.

"Don't be silly. Come on, let's get you into your new place."

It only takes a couple of hours to empty the truck. Not only that but we (Roy and I, Kent wasn't joking about supervising) get the furniture in place and the bed together. Kate gets a little teary-eyed when we show her the chicken in the fridge that Kent fried up. It might be the last time that old cast-iron skillet gets used for a while. Besides the chicken, we stocked the fridge with potato salad, milk, beer, eggs, and a pound of bacon. I mean, fuck, who wants to unpack and go shopping? Speaking of shopping, I show them the list I typed up of the best places for groceries, meat, beer etc.

By the time all the good-bye'ing is done the sun is going down. We thank them but decline the offer to stay and share the chicken. I can't say why but I feel like it's time to go. I have the distinct impression that after we leave, appetites will be satisfied but in the bedroom, not at the kitchen table. She's going to get pregnant tonight, flashes through my head. I believe it. My own eyes get a little misty. She's so happy. So's Roy, maybe really happy for the first time in his life.

"Jesus, couldn't you remember the WD-40 along with the camper and air mattress," Kent asks as I pull the squealing driver's door closed. He looks at me. "What's going on? You have a goofy look on your face."

"They're going to make a baby after we get the hell outta here."

His mouth opens. He closes it and nods. "Let's eat. I'm starving," is his only comment.

"So, am I." After I back out of the driveway and give Kate and Roy a final wave, I reach over and take hold of Kent's hand. I don't let it go until we're parked outside the burger joint.

The burgers are excellent as always. The beer is great. The music is outstanding, a couple of local guys, guitar, upright bass, and a bottle cap attached to a boot is enough when you got talent. Fucking awesome. Yet, I'm distracted by the image of Kate and Roy in each other's arms. It's all good. The image makes me smile.

***

The drive to Pittsburgh is quiet. We're both lost in our thoughts. I turn up the radio if I hear something good but that's about it. We park. The squeal of the truck door makes me cringe. I wait for a patio door to open and a curse to fly through the night but apparently this neighborhood is too gentile for that.

We brush our teeth and climb into bed. I pull Kent on top of me.

He climbs between my legs. He leans on his elbows, his hands not quite up to the task just yet. He's letting his beard grow. I like the feel of his whiskers against my cheek, my lips. I have mixed emotions when he pulls back. I want - desperately - what's coming next but I miss his lips and tongue.

"I think the lubes in the drawer, there, on the right."

I turn my head and stretch. After a bit of fumbling, my fingers find the bottle. I hand it to him and settle back. He lifts my legs, my cock presses into my belly. The lube on his fingers is cold. He rubs it over my asshole, then probes inside. Satisfied that he's covered my ass, he wipes his fingers over his cock. It shines in the soft light coming from the lamp above my head. He moves forward. He presses. I push. He's inside me.

He goes slow, not because it's painful but because I ask him to go slow. I enjoy feeling him fill me with his dick. He fucks me nice and slow, pausing to lean forward for a kiss every once in a while. I hold his face in my hands, my fingers in his hair.

His thrust become, not faster, but more, I don't know, insistent. That's as good a word for it as any. Or maybe more deliberate. Describing it is not as important as feeling it. I do my best to drink in everything that's happening; the crisp crinkling sound and feel of his hair between my fingers, the way his eyes are closed, the way he bites his top lip, the way his cock swells in my ass as it fills with cum and the way it deflates when it empties itself inside me, the sweat on him, the smell of his hair when he collapses on top of me, the thud of his heart, the warmth of his breath. All of it.

I feel his cock soften and slip out of me. He begins to slide lower on my body but I stop him with a touch of my hand. "Lay down beside me. Kiss me, while I jerk off," I whisper.

He does as I ask. Propped on one elbow, he leans over me. His lips touch mine and I open them for his tongue. His free hand caresses my chest and belly. I start to stroke my cock. His fingers wrap around the base and squeeze. He fondles my balls. When I cum, it's not my hand stroking my cock; it's Kent's. When I've finished, he kisses his way down my neck, licking and sucking at the pools his mouth finds there. We kiss some more. I fall asleep first. The last thing I remember is Kent nuzzling the side of neck.

***

I stretch and then let out one of those yawns that causes your whole body to shake. I'm alone in the bed, Kent's bed, not our bed or my bed. Fuck, is it still Kent and Brad's bed? Whosever the fuck bed it is, it's comfortable. Kent is probably right; that air mattress is going to get old fast. The room's dark. The drapes have been pulled. The light seeping around the drapes is bright. I roll over and have to stare at the clock for a few minutes before I can make my brain believe what my eyes are seeing. It's 11:23, now 11:24. I never sleep this late, not in the past twenty years anyway. I stretch again and fall back into the bed.

When I wake again, Kent is sitting on the side of the bed. "You plan on sleeping all day, baby?" I roll over and wrap my body around his back. "It's your fault. That was the most intensely satisfying fuck of my lifetime." I kiss his bare back. He's wearing boxers. "What time is it, anyway?" He very nicely waits until I finish yawning to answer. "Almost one in the afternoon," he tells me, smiling. "Jesus! You're kidding. No wonder I'm about to piss the bed."

"Is that so?" The tone in his voice catches my attention. I look at him. He smiles, a wicked smile and raises his eyebrows.

"Seriously?"

"Come on." He offers me a hand and pulls me out of bed. He slips his boxers off. His dick is half hard and looks scrumptious. I sit back down on the bed, ignoring my bladder, and take his dick in my mouth. I suck and tug until his dick is hard. "That's better," I tell him, looking up at him, over his hard cock. "Come on," he repeats.

He walks into the over-sized shower and kneels. He begins to pull at his dick. My own cock is hard as a rock. I woke up hard, sucking his dick made it harder, watching him play with his dick is making it harder, imaging my piss splashing over his chest is making it harder still. I can barely force it down. I bend forward, stick my ass out, and even with these contortions it takes a second or two before I can let go.

My stream hits him in the center of his chest. He sighs and begins to pull at his dick. He leans, opening his mouth. It fills and flows over his chin. He closes his mouth and swallows, opens it again. It takes a long time for me to empty my bladder. He stands, looking at me. I open my arms. I pull him close but my piss has already lost its warmth. We kiss.

I kneel. He stares. I nod.

His piss is warm. I let it run over my chest, belly and cock. Telling myself, what the hell, I open my mouth and lean into his stream. I let my mouth fill and over flow. When his stream dies away, I let most of his piss fall but swallow a mouthful. It's not nearly as acrid as mine had tasted.

"Morning piss is always stronger," he tells me, reading my mind. "I've been drinking coffee." He smiles at me shyly. "I was hoping this might happen." His smile fades. "Are you okay?"

"No." He looks so worried I laugh. "No, I'm freezing. The rest of it was fine. Help me up." I hold out my hand and he pulls me to my feet. I turn his hand over and look at it. It's still red but the scabs are all gone. I kiss his hand. "I'm glad you're getting better."

"Me too, Randy."

He turns and directs the shower head away from us, then turns on the water. We kiss, hands on each other's asses, waiting for the water to get hot.

***

I give Liam a call, to let him know we won't be at the resort until later in the afternoon. I fix myself a sandwich. I find Kent in the master closet, sitting at the dressing table.

"That's all Brad's stuff," he says, nodding toward one side of the closet and answering the question I hadn't had a chance to ask yet. He scoots over and I sit down on the bench with him. The man had good taste.

"If I'm going to sell the condo I need to get rid of his things."

"Do you want some help? There's nothing I have to be at the resort for today, or tomorrow for that matter."

"Wouldn't that be awkward? Strange?"

"Maybe," I shrug. "But if you think it will help, what's so strange about that?"

He leans forward and runs his hand down one of the shirts hanging neatly from the wooden bar. "I'm not sure how to start," he whispers.

"Well, are there things you know you want to keep?"

"No, not clothing anyway." He shakes his head, stands, and moves to the end of the closet. There are shelves back there, bare cedar. He picks up a pale blue sweater and rubs a hand over it. "This was my favorite. Brad hated it; too plain, but he wore it for me. I'll keep this."

"Okay, go put it on the dresser in the bedroom. You're sure there's nothing else you want to keep? A tie or something?"

"No, just this."

"Okay, babe, what about accessories, you know cuff links, watch, bracelet, ring, stuff like that?"

Kent shakes his head. "No, I already have that in the cedar box on the dresser."

"So, all the rest of the clothes go to charity? Anything you want to send to his parents?"

His mouth starts to say no but he closes it. "What about one of his white coats, with his name embroidered on it?"

"I would imagine they would like something like that. Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of. He does have photo albums, from his childhood and college but I want to keep them."

"No problem, do they have a computer?"

"Beats me. I've never been to their house. My sole contact with them has been two phone calls."

"If they don't they can always get the photos printed. You have a scanner? If not, I can pick one up when I go out to get boxes for the clothes."

"I have a scanner." He looks at me. "Randy, you don't have to do this. I can't believe I'm letting you help me pack up my dead lover's clothes."

"Why? I told you, I don't care. I'm happy you had time with Brad. I'm sorry, for you if not exactly for me, that it ended, especially the way it ended." I get up and give him a hug. "You start scanning the photos and I'll go get some boxes. Do you need a thumb drive to burn the scans to?"

"Would a CD work?"

"If you have a lot of photos a USB drive will probably work better. I'll grab one." I give him a kiss. "Let me call Liam with the change in plans, finish my coffee, and then I'll run out and pick up a few things."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Another quick kiss and I leave him standing there, sweater in hand.

I explain the situation to Liam as I finish my coffee. I quick check of dear old Google Maps shows me to the closest storage facility that sells boxes. As luck would have it, there's an office supply store not too far away. It doesn't take long. I even manage time for a surprise for Kent.

He's sitting at the computer. The stack of photos on the desk is not very large.

"I've been looking more than scanning but I've gotten more done than you might think." He picks up an album and starts putting the photos back. Lucky for him, Brad took the trouble to use corner brackets for his photos. If he'd used the sticky photo albums my mom used, Kent would have a much more difficult time getting the photos out without ruining them. "I'm going to send the albums, the ones from when he was a kid, back to his parents. I'll even send some of the college photos, at least the ones where he's by himself. I'm not sure they'll appreciate the ones where he has his arms around another guy."

I kiss his forehead. "Good idea. You hungry? Want me to make you a sandwich or get started on the closet."

"I'm not hungry. Thanks." He pushes the desk chair back. "I'll help you carry the boxes to the bedroom."

"You sure? Your hands okay?"

He nods. The flattened boxes are in the back of the truck but I find an excuse to open the driver's door. Silence. He doesn't notice. He's got a lot on his mind. It'll still be a surprise when he does notice. Kent whistles when I drop the tailgate.

"So, many?"

"It's a big closet. I'm not sure I got enough to be honest."

He looks startled. "Really?"

"You'll see. Come on."

We make it in one trip. As the elevator door is closing, Kent speaks. "I see you remembered the WD-40". He smiles. What a pain in the ass.

I work quickly but carefully. I pack Brad's clothing neatly. I put the suits in the wardrobe boxes I bought. It's a big closet but even being careful, it only takes a little more than an hour. The idea frightens me. I've erased a man's presence, at least the physical manifestations of his presence, in seventy-five minutes. Fuck.

I'm staring at what I suppose would still be called a footlocker, even though it's covered in leather. Kent had not mentioned it. I'm not sure if the stuff in it stays or goes. I'm not even sure if it's Kent's locker or Brad's.

"I'm not sure about that one."

I hadn't heard him come in the closet and I squeal like a school girl.

"Son of a bitch, you scared the shit outta me. Jesus!"

"Sorry," he offers, stepping past me and lifting up the locker or chest or whatever the fuck you call it. He sets it atop the built-in island in the middle of the closet and opens it.

"Wow," I whistle, eyes wide. The chest is filled with toys and not the kind you give your nephews and nieces. There's the standard little whip, leather I note, not plastic, various clamps, dongs, butt plugs and a few things I don't recognize.