Simpatico

He couldn't ask it directly of Charbeneau, because the hirsute hunk was underneath him, his arms wrapped under Rich's armpits, trapping the younger man's arms above his head, his legs laced between and around Rich's, his cock still hard, but beginning to soften, inside Rich's channel. They'd just had their second fuck. Charbeneau had called out the number after ejaculation—as if he planned to keep count all night—as if he were keeping the medical treatment veneer on the couplings.

Two hours after the first fucking on the sofa, they had done it again on Charbeneau's bed. Charbeneau promised that they'd do it every two hours until Rich lost the jitters—unless Charbeneau's own condition dictated that they do it even more. Rich had moaned in ecstasy at this last statement.

"We'll get on a regular schedule after tonight," Charbeneau had said. "And there will still be the nurse at the hospital. I know you want to spend most of your time at Trent's bedside. I'm just a fifteen-minute walk away from the hospital; we can fuck regularly. But for tonight, we're going to scratch both of our itches until they bleed."

Returning to the rest period after the second fuck, Charbeneau answered Rich's question about a plan. "You only learned of Miles Trent's deteriorating health about Thanksgiving time, didn't you?"

"Yes, but what do you know about that? And you didn't answer me about knowing Miles. You said you have known Miles Trent for some time."

"Yes, I know Miles. Miles and I have been friends for decades. We were close—intimately so. We used to cruise together, procure for each other. He knew of my need. I knew he had to have a lot of it too. We'd find prospects together, or one of us would cruise and bring young men to the other. We'd sometimes fuck them together. Does that disgust you?"

"No," Rich responded in a small voice.

Charbeneau continued. "We'll return to that. Our collaboration changed when you came into Miles' life. I didn't begrudge him his happiness, though. You made him very happy, you know. He wanted to be sure you knew that. Especially today. Now that I think back on those days, I think I liked the sharing more than Miles did. How do you feel about that, Rich? Do you like to have two men sharing you—have men shared you before?"

"Yes." Rich responded in a small, shaky voice, and answer going to both of the questions. In the Navy. It was common in the Navy in the close sleeping quarters when they were out to sea and the sailors were bored. Bored and randy. Rich had had just the slim, somewhat androgynous prettiness that attracted randy sailors. He'd learned to take all sorts of things—and, eventually, to enjoy doing so—in the Navy.

"Not just being together, but totally sharing you? Both inside your channel at the same—"

"Yes." Rich hadn't misunderstood what Charbeneau was asking.

"Did Miles share you with other men?"

"No."

"Have you missed that a bit?"

"Yes." And then because Rich didn't want to get into anything that lessened the quality of his life with Miles, even though he'd given up some acts from his previous sex life in the Navy that he'd enjoyed, he changed the topic. "You aren't really a doctor at the hospital, are you?"

"No, certainly not. I haven't done a lick of work in my life. And I don't intend to. I just intend to fuck around—several times a day. I'm filthy rich; don't need to work. In my condition, that's a blessing. It frees my time—makes me perpetually available. Just like you have been with Miles; what you could be with me."

"And arranged by Miles. Just like Dave was arranged?"

"Yes. Arranged beforehand. Just like me. Just like me being here, inside you. I've known about you for years. Wanted to fuck you for years. Knew from our separate conditions that we were simpatico that way. But you were with Miles."

"And now, with Miles dying, you are—"

"I am doing what Miles arranged for me to do. He knew he was dying a long time before he let you know he was. He made all of these arrangements beforehand. He knew what you needed. And that you needed someone to take care of you, control you, dominate you. Fuck you regularly. I can do that—as long as you open your channel to me three or four times a day—just like your arrangement with Miles. It's what you need."

"But today. Why today? Miles is still here, alive."

"And I'll let you go back to Miles. We'll work into this gradually. I'm not cutting Miles out. He wasn't sure he'd still be here today. He's fought to still be here today."

"Because of the adoption papers going through today?"

"Yes, but even that was arranged for today. He didn't want me to declare before today, because he wanted you to have options. You can turn the arrangement down. You'll have all the money you need to live on your own, if that's what you want."

Rich shuddered at the mere thought of living alone, having to take care of himself.

"I sense you don't want that," Charbeneau whispered.

"No, I don't want that. I've never had to take care of myself. I want a daddy."

"You'll accept me in that role?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"You want to live with me, leaving the decisions to me, me fucking you three and four times a day?"

"Yes. But why today, especially?"

"It's Valentine's Day. Miles is sentimental that way. He wanted you to know the depth of his love. He recorded a message to you—in case he wasn't around to tell you himself, which, in great part, he isn't. Do you want to listen—?"

"Yes, but later." Rich was panting and trembling.

"But now you feel that I've gone hard again, don't you? You want me to fuck you again, don't you?"

"Yes."

Without pulling out, being capable of that because of his great length, Charbeneau gently rolled Rich over on his stomach, rolling with him, so that Rich was on his belly, arms and legs splayed, and Charbeneau was mounted on his ass, the heels of his hands buried in Rich's shoulder blades. As Rich started to moan, Charbeneau mined his ass in long, slow strokes.

The session was interrupted by a buzzing. The front door.

Charbeneau, as if he was expecting this, reached over to the nightstand and clicked a remote control. It must have opened the front door, because Rich heard the sound of someone moving across the apartment toward the bedroom door.

"Here you are, Dave," Charbeneau said. And then to Rich: "You now know that Miles and I used to enjoy fucking them together. You've acknowledged having done it before—missing it. Dave and I are going to work you over together now. Real sharing. Both of us inside your channel at the same time. Stretching you to the limit. Double loving."

Rich moaned deeply. But it was a happy moan. Happy, Happy, Happy Valentine's Day, he thought.