Shooting Matt Ch. 12

We stare at each other. I don't see or hear Leon [O3]and Glenna but I lose myself in enjoyment of the sounds and smells of the world.

***

Liam doesn't want to ask Matt to sit up. He's afraid that will hurt his back. He contents himself with bunching Matt's hospital gown up on his chest.

"Are you always this forward on a date?" Matt whispers.

"No," Liam answers, his fingers playing over the top of Matt's bare thigh, delighted at how his touch causes the skin to ripple into goose bumps. "But this isn't a date, is it?"

Matt chuckles. "Christ, you are so like your old man, an answer for everything."

Liam's fingers explore the stubble of Matt's pubic hair. He wonders if Matt would let him shave his body for him. He wonders if he could, without stopping to suck the cock he's starting to love.

"You really think I'm like my dad?"

"Yeah, but that's cool. Totally cool. You know I think your dad is amazing."

Liam watches as Matt's cock begins to roll up his thigh, leaving a trail of wetness.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," Matt answers simply. "I do. But I think it's different. That's total clichéd bullshit and I know it. I'm not trying to do that fucking horseshit parsing of 'in love' versus 'love'. But it's different."

"There's the English major hidden inside of the surfer dude persona peeking out," Liam whispers.

His breath is warm on Matt's skin. It sends the final quanta of blood needed to lift his cock from his belly.

"Dude, it's not a persona. It's a filter. It's easier to let people see what they expect to see. That way I only have to deal, really deal, with the ones who bother to peek behind the curtain."

"Okay, cool. But, how is that not a persona?"

Matt's fingers curl in Liam's hair and tug. "Fuckin' A, you're a pain in the ass."

"Sorry," Liam whispers.

Matt doesn't reply. He sighs as his lover's hand finds his cock.

Liam strokes Matt's cock. His eyes are fixed on Matt's cock, his boner, erection, wood. He's amazed that such a, let's be real, strange looking piece of flesh can be so enticing. His fingers tighten and pink builds to purple and red. The skin is so soft, so thin and frail but beneath his fingers there is steel. He rubs a fingertip over the slit, pulls it away slowly, mesmerized by the strand of precum that stretches from finger to cock before snapping. He wonders if a tiny microphone could pick up the sound of the snap? Would it sound like a metal cable giving way? A rubber band? Or would it make any sound at all? Why does he care?

He rubs his finger tip around Matt's crown. His eyes never leave his lover's cock but in his peripheral vision he sees the muscles in Matt's thighs tighten, same for his abs. He wraps his fingers around the shaft and resumes stroking, slowly, deliberately, careful not to pull the skin. No one without a cock, no matter how skilled a lover, knows how to truly jerk off one.

He squeezes just a bit harder on the up-stroke and soon a nice puddle of precum collects above his clenched fingers. He relaxes his grip, moves his other hand over the hand and twists his grip as he strokes, spreading nature's best lube over his lover's cock.

He doesn't increase the speed but now his well-lubed fingers ride up and over the head. Matt is silent other than the soft pants of his excitement.

Liam feels Matt's cock swell. He knows, without being told, his lover is about to cum. He's proud of himself, proud of being able to read Matt's body. Even so, the first jet escapes before he can get his mouth over the head. The position is awkward but he catches most of the offering.

Though his body clenches, Matt barely moves. He makes no sound. Liam understands somehow that Matt is not holding back for fear of being heard. He's simply given himself over to the feel of Liam's hand, lips, tongue. He's quiet and still so that he may diminish any distractions from what he's feeling in his cock and belly and mind.

Matt's hand has never left Liam's head. He's not used it to guide or urge Liam's efforts. It's nothing more than another point of contact for their bodies. He leaves it there as Liam raises his head and begins to lick his fingers clean. He leaves it there when Liam begins to lap and suck at the pools of jizz on his belly and chest.

There's a knock on the door. Liam impresses him by not panicking. He simply pulls the sheet up, wiggles a little higher and rests his head on Matt's chest.

"Okay if I come in? They have a room for you on rehab and we have folks waiting in the ED for this room."

Kent speaks from outside the door. Unlike most hospital providers he hasn't given a perfunctory knock and then barged in.

"Sure," Matt calls. He's still breathless.

Kent pauses as he enters the room.

Matt almost giggles. He can feel that the gown is still bunched up under his shoulders. His cock is only half soft and must be tenting the sheet. Hell, given the thinness of the sheet he's probably flashing the poor dude. His cock twitches at the thought and he feels a dollop of jizz squeeze out. Great, now he's flashing a wet spot too. Fuck.

Kent shakes his head, a half smile on his lips.

"We need the room but it looks like you need a couple minutes to, uh, get organized. Your friends took your clothes, such as they were. You need a clean gown?"

"Uh, no. I think I'm good," Matt says with a half laugh.

"Uh-huh, I bet." Kent snorts and turns away. "I'll go get a chair. Be right back." He pauses at the door. "Uh, Liam, you got 'hair gel' in your hair." They hear him laugh as the door closes.

"Shit," Liam whispers.

"Let me see," Matt orders.

Liam lifts his head and turns it. Matt's finger wipes through his hair. He pops the finger in his mouth and smiles.

"There, good as new."

His smile disappears beneath Liam's lips.

***

Little more is said as the early summer twilight drags on. The breeze from the wind isn't chilly but it's lost most of its early ferocious heat.

We have another shot and a final beer. I don't know about the others but I don't feel the alcohol. I drain the last of my beer and stand. I'm rock steady. I lean over and kiss Glenna on the forehead. She reaches up and pats my arm. I don't stop to analyze the pros and cons. I simply walk around the table and kiss Leon on the forehead as well. My hand rests on the back of his neck. The skin is hot and dry, as if he has the flu.

I close the door gently. The night smells as sweet as it did inside. The vague smell of decay that comes off the lake doesn't ruin it; it enhances it somehow, or it does in my present state of mind. I half wonder if this is what the Zen folks mean by feeling part of everything. I sure as hell have achieved Nirvana; I've got plenty of earthly desires roiling around inside me.

There are still kids playing around the pool. A few older kids, teenagers I assume, drift away toward the quiet parts of the lakeshore. I assume there will be beer and weed and some intense desperate making out. The sort of desperate making out only those new to sexuality are capable of. That is, if things haven't changed since I came here as a teenager. I doubt they have. The patterns change. The norms change but not human sexuality. It's always the same beast lurking inside.

Sexuality, that's the true trickster God. Forget Kokopelli or Reynard. The only trickster God people need is the desire to fuck and be fucked. I'm not sure how that fits with my recent view of the world as one, but it feels right to me. Besides, I'm not here to formulate a philosophy of life or love or sex.

Why am I here? Not it the what-is-life-all-about sense but in the what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-at-this-resort-in-this-cabin-at-this-time sense. Nothing about the past few days makes any sense, certainly not when I view it through the lens of the last couple of decades of my life.

Is Matt the trickster God? My life has certainly been turned upside down since he showed up for this photo shoot. If he is I'm missing the downside. That, more than anything, is indicative of the change in me. I never, ever, fail to see the down side. I'm a perpetual and dedicated glass-half-empty sort of guy, up until the past few days anyway.

I've taken a lover, not just hooked up, but taken a lover. And I've given him up. All without the usual cycle of angst and recrimination and depression I would normally have expected of myself. I started remodeling my house, cleaning up my yard. I've realized that between mom's insurance and house and overtime and obsessive saving, I have plenty of money for my needs. I'm taking a vacation. I didn't look for all the easy reasons for saying "no" when asked to spend a few days here. Fuck, I'm having visions.

I've reached no conclusion, arrive at no grand unifying theory, when I reach the steps to the cabin. The bed is unmade. I stare at it. My son and my lover, ex-lover, slept there last night. They probably made love there last night. I don't feel anger. I smile. I'm not worried about safety but out of habit I check that the doors are locked. I don't bother brushing my teeth. I shed my clothes like dead skin and climb into bed even though it's not yet dark outside. I smooth the sheets with one hand. I bunch up one pillow, then the other, bury my face in it and inhale, imaging I can smell them.

There's nothing sexual about it, not even when I imagine I can smell Matt. I do not have some deep, hidden, desire for my son. No, I simply enjoy the sensation of being surrounded by them and by their affection and desire for each other.

I'm an atheist but I mutter a prayer that they will be okay. I know it's way too soon to hope for that. It's like rooting for the high school sweethearts, it makes a great movie but the reality is a lot different.

I don't expect to sleep but I do.

I dream.

***

In the lodge, a few hundred feet down the hillside, Leon and Glenna climb into bed. He opens his arms. She lies beside him, head on his chest. Her fingers play in the soft hair on his belly. They're nude. They never wear clothes to bed. She examines her feelings, decides that, yes, this is where she belongs, where she wants to be. He is her husband and she loves him.

Unbeknownst to her, Leon has the same thoughts and reaches the same conclusions.

There is nothing 'fake' about the love they make.

They sleep.

They dream.

[O1]???

[O2]Good

[O3]This what you wanted to say?