Milk Cartons

Reichert's head lowered slightly so his face fell into shadow and Matt could tell it had finally sunk in. He picked up his drink and sipped at the last of it while he waited for a reply, since there was nothing left for him to argue over by now. Reichert was by no means the toughest customer he'd ever had, but he hadn't been very easy, either, and he was secretly glad they were past the most troublesome part of it. He peered toward the clock and was honestly surprised by how late it had grown. He thought of several things he'd far rather be doing with the other man by now, instead of arguing, but finished off his drink rather than say so.

After the silence had drawn out for an awkward period of time, he set the can down once more and paused, then reached to take Reichert's hand without looking at him. The detective didn't jerk back this time; Matt felt his fingers curl around his own, and knew that while there would likely still be plenty of uneasiness, there would be no more pulling away. Obviously his current partner wasn't the sort to take things into his own hands, at least in this area; Matt shifted sideways so their knees touched, and they sat in silence for a short while, then he slowly pulled his hand from Reichert's grasp and slipped his arm around him so his fingers trailed down his side. Reichert's muscles were still tensed, but Matt found he liked their hardness; with his other hand he turned the other man's face toward him and their eyes met. He was actually rather surprised by how beautiful and expressive they were, what with how Reichert had kept them mostly hidden or turned away before now. So many wonderful traits going to waste.

With his fingers on Reichert's jaw, he leaned forward and their mouths met-Reichert's opened almost immediately, and the hunger in his kiss was also a surprise, even for Matt. Matt felt him lean toward him, and at this dropped his other arm to slip it around him as well and draw him close so their chests touched. He felt Reichert's own arm hesitantly go around him, his other hand meeting Matt's face. The way his breath snorted from his nostrils, since he couldn't pant through his mouth, and the hammering of his heart against Matt's breast, told Matt it was time, and he put pressure on his arm to indicate that they should stand, which Reichert obeyed. It would be too much trouble to move the coffeetable and pull out the bed, so Matt decided that lying on the couch itself would have to do. He started to pull off his shirt, but Reichert tugged at it himself, surprising him yet again, so Matt let him. When he was unclothed but for his underwear, he lay down on his back, grasping at Reichert's shirt to pull him down; their kiss continued, their lips biting and sucking at each other, and Matt rubbed his leg against his partner's as Reichert reached for his buckle.

"Wait a minute," Matt whispered, breaking the kiss, putting his hand over Reichert's to still it; Reichert lifted his head to look down at him, his face again thrown into shadow, though Matt could hear his breath and feel it fanning over his own face. "Take off your clothes," he whispered; when Reichert hesitated, confusion and reluctance flitting through his eyes, Matt cupped his face in his hands and smiled. "So I can see you," he added, again rubbing their legs together a bit.

He heard the hitch in Reichert's breath at this motion; his aversion toward disrobing in front of him was obvious, judging by his pause and the flush rising in his face, but after several long seconds he removed his jacket, then, a bit more slowly, his shirt. He had to stand again to work at his pants, undoing the belt and zipper and slipping them off along with socks and shoes. He was still clad in his underwear, and bent forward, so Matt couldn't see him very well; after a final moment of hesitation Reichert slipped his underwear down his legs and lightly kicked them aside. He stood upright again, and Matt let out his breath, feeling his own underwear tighten as he began to bulge outward.

His initial observation, that Reichert obviously knew how to take care of himself, was amply proven; Matt had had skinny boyfriends, soft boyfriends, muscular boyfriends, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that his current partner was in better shape than any of them had been. Matt had always loved to trace the contours of another man's muscles with both his eyes and his fingers, though most men who worked out had an almost false quality to them, as if they triedtoo hard; Reichert's arms and legs and abdomen didn't bulge awkwardly like theirs did. He could have almost passed as slender when fully clothed, though Matt was good at guessing what men really looked like; still, Reichert's lean but strong build impressed him.

He wasn't erect yet-Matt's request seemed to have flustered him somewhat-so Matt got a chance to see him as he normally was, and even that was impressive, too. He let his eyes linger on the sight a moment or two, then trail upward, following the line of dark hair running up from Reichert's groin, up his belly, tapering off between the tight muscles of his abdomen; he was glad the detective wasn't so mistakenly vain as to shave himself too much like some men did, and raised his hand to run it down the narrow line until his fingers tangled in the hair surrounding Reichert's penis, and he felt the other man's body tense at the touch.

Matt took him in his hand and slowly stroked, back and forth, using his other hand to slip off his underwear; Reichert's breath hitched again, and he quickly started to grow hard, until Matt was running his hand up and down the erect shaft, trailing his fingers over the hot testicles and tangling them in his hair again. Reichert lifted his leg to place it over Matt's, his knee pressing on the outside of his thigh, and he leaned down so they kissed again. His hips had started to move, swaying just slightly with Matt's stroking motions; Matt ran his free hand down his back to caress his buttock. He slipped his fingers between, let one trail over the tight knot of his partner's anus; when Reichert jerked and gasped, tensing rather than loosening, Matt withdrew, deciding not to enter him. Instead, he took advantage of the break in their kiss to smile up at his partner-Reichert just looked back down at him, panting and dazed-and though it struck him as a bit too coy, he figured it would go over better than speaking aloud, so he parted his lips and ran his tongue along them. He squeezed Reichert's hardness as he did so, and lifted his knee to touch it against his thigh.

He thought perhaps the hint might fly over Reichert's head; it didn't, and Reichert pushed himself back up, turning, then coming down again; he had to be careful what with the narrowness of the couch, so Matt guided him somewhat, touching his knees when Reichert placed them to both sides of his head, spreading his own knees at Reichert's touch. The couch gave a soft creak beneath their weight; Matt lifted his head and took the tip of Reichert's penis in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it and earning a sharp cry. He would have smiled at the way he felt the detective's thighs tighten in his grip, if he'd been able. Instead, he moaned in his throat when he felt a warmth surround him, Reichert taking Matt into his own mouth without the slightest hesitation, so deeply that Matt shuddered in relief that the wait had been worth it.

He was impressed; for obviously never having done this before, Reichert was good at it. Usually proud of the fact that he could control himself quite well, Matt nonetheless moaned again around his partner's hardness, shutting his eyes tight and arching his hips upward. Reichert's tongue and lips drew up and off of him; before Matt's body could relax, he wrapped his mouth around his testicles instead, sucking hard, and Matt let out a sharp noise, bucking slightly. His teeth just lightly scored Reichert's shaft at the motion; he felt the detective flinch in return, his pelvis driving downward deep into Matt's throat. Now that no more preliminaries were needed, and his groin was throbbing wildly, Matt knew they could simply do what they needed to do; he wrapped his arms around Reichert's thighs, feeling the detective do the same, and after Reichert made the first motion, arching his back and tensing his buttocks to thrust into Matt's throat, Matt followed suit, pushing his hips upward toward Reichert's warm mouth, and the two of them started rocking together on the small couch, their bellies rubbing as they quickly grew slick with sweat. They didn't speak anymore, if they even could have, the soft whimpers and occasional slight grunts they let out speaking for them.

Once in a while one of them would pull his head back to catch his breath, gasping at the air; when Reichert did this Matt did the same, before taking the opportunity to burrow his face back against him, running his tongue over his anus and shivering at the long groan his partner let out in response. Fingers digging into Matt's thighs, Reichert buried his own face back in Matt's crotch, hugging the sides of his head with his knees, Matt doing the same to him. They moved quickly now, urgently, bodies tense and quivering with need. The couch creaked, its foot slightly thumping against the floor with Reichert's heavy thrusts; Matt dimly heard a responding thump, the tenant below his apartment evidently hearing the noise and knocking back to demand silence, but he didn't care, and Reichert didn't seem to notice. The strength of Reichert's grip on his legs, the tensed muscles of his belly where it rubbed against Matt's, the tightness of his thighs, his heat and hardness within Matt's mouth, even the tang of his sweat, made Matt shudder with lust; nobody else in the bar knew what they'd missed out on, and that was just fine by him.

He didn't bother to regret it when Reichert bucked against him and his throat filled with warm fluid which almost made him choke; he knew there would definitely be other times. He released, himself, before realizing he probably should have offered some sort of warning; when Reichert's reaction was to pull his head back with a sputter and start coughing convulsively, Matt had to force himself not to laugh lest he bite him. Reichert ducked aside to try to avoid getting hit by the stream; Matt was just about certain he would be annoyed by this, but it had been worth it.

After a moment he felt his partner start to relax, and carefully drew his own head back so his softening penis slipped from his mouth. He lay catching his breath and waiting for Reichert to make a move; to his credit, he did put his head back down and attempt to lick up what he could, and the feel of his tongue sliding along Matt's length, and up the inside of his thighs, was almost enough to make him harden again, if only it had been physically possible; instead Matt shut his eyes and let out a soft shuddery breath. Reichert carefully lifted himself so Matt could sit up, and they ended up sitting side by side again, chests heaving; Matt discreetly peered at his partner as he tried to catch his breath, and admired how his sweat dampened his hair and made his muscles gleam. He hadn't meant to stare at him for so long, but Reichert at last noticed his look, peering at him from the corner of his eye as if reluctant to look at him straight on again; Matt grasped his hand, and their fingers twined. They didn't say anything, didn't have to, as they sat for several long moments, their breath slowing.

When Reichert at last bothered to lift his free hand and rub at the slickness coating his chin and neck, a mildly irritated look coming to his face, Matt could no longer hold back his laughter. Reichert's disapproving expression did little to stop him. "That's why God made showers," he said after he'd regained his composure and given the other man enough time to get over his embarrassment; Reichert's look was vaguely perplexed this time, so Matt smiled at him as he stood, still holding his hand, so he got to his feet as well. It seemed to take him a moment to understand where Matt was leading him; Matt felt the pull on his hand when he hesitated, but it was just a second, and they passed through the darkened hallway together. The hour was late enough that Matt rather hoped he would decide to at least stay the night, even if he did have to leave early in the morning; Reichert didn't protest them entering the bathroom, so Matt made plans to pull out the bed when they were done...whenever that should be. The shower did take considerably longer than most showers did, with how preoccupied the two of them were for a good long while, their hands and mouths exploring each other's body as the water spattered down over them.

* * * * *

Matt hadn't been expecting anything momentous, and he didn't get it. He'd never cared for momentous things anyway, with all their attendant drama. He could tell almost from the start that no matter how much he might have enjoyed himself, no matter how much he might finally admit it to himself, Reichert wasn't about to go out and let the world know about the two of them. That was just fine with Matt. He wasn't interested in making any points for the greater good, when the individual mattered so much more.

For a time, Reichert came to his place-when he did come, which was unpredictable, given both his job and his still somewhat reluctant attitude toward the situation. Again Matt didn't mind. He had no need to work a regular job himself-when the detective grew curious about this, he explained a settlement he'd won some time back, which with his rather spare tastes was good enough to keep him going for now-so it wasn't terribly inconvenient to open the door for him at noon or at midnight or whenever he would appear. Late nights were far more common. Sometimes Reichert was more communicative than any of his other boyfriends had been, something which was a nice change of pace. On other occasions he talked little at all; Matt came to understand his moods, able to tell which he was in when he showed up.

After two or three times of returning from shopping or a trip into the city to find Reichert waiting for him, he gave him a duplicate key; "It doesn't mean anything," he said, seeing the uneasy look on his face, "it's just so you don't end up creating a fire hazard taking up space on the stairs when I'm out." At this comment Reichert accepted the key with no response. Matt knew the two of them were seeing each other exclusively-neither had the time or inclination to do otherwise-but the idea of commitment still seemed to make the detective ill at ease, so Matt didn't press the issue. Like so many other things, it didn't matter.

He had to admit he was surprised to eventually be invited to Reichert's apartment, even if for whatever reason that day it might have simply been more convenient. It was bigger than Matt's place, though nothing ostentatious, and was furnished pretty much as he'd expected, with just the slightest hint of disinterest in keeping it pristine; Matt privately found this amusing as he ran his hand over a throw half hanging off the couch. He was far more interested in the balcony view. Although puzzled by his interest, Reichert led him out-it was nothing more than a concrete ledge big enough to fit perhaps three people in chairs, with a wrought-iron railing surrounding it, though Matt took little notice of this. He leaned over the railing as far as he dared, twisting his head sideways, and smiled with pleasure at the view of Manhattan spreading out before him, the numerous skyscrapers poking out from the shorter buildings here and there, two particularly tall ones glimmering in the sun.

"You can't see anything from my place," he said, rather needlessly, since of course Reichert knew this by now.

Reichert leaned over the railing beside him and also craned his neck to look at the view. "It's just a couple of towers," he said, as if Matt were an overly wonderstruck child.

Matt shrugged-having to be careful when he did so. "So? It's beautiful, that's all."

"It looks like a couple of fucking milk cartons plopped in the middle of the city."

Matt made a face at him. "I said it'sbeautiful. Of course you wouldn't notice since you can look at this every day."

He pulled himself back over the railing. Reichert had already lost interest and was leaning his elbows on the bar; he shrugged when Matt turned to him. "Whatever," he said. "Of course when something's always around you kind of get used to it. I bet if you lived up here long enough you wouldn't bother looking out the window. And you'd think they look like milk cartons, too."

"I bet you you're wrong," Matt replied, and when Reichert gave him a cross look he gave him the finger in return. This was normal; the detective might have been moody but he didn't hold grudges over trivial things. For a while he tolerated Matt's insistence on examining the skyline, though after some time he at last grasped Matt's sleeve and ended up pulling him back into the apartment, Matt putting up just enough of a mock argument to make it entertaining. They spent the rest of the afternoon inside, and the rest of the night in Reichert's own bed, though Matt made sure, to the detective's annoyance, to look at the view again early the next morning. Although he did get used to it, he made a point of leaning out over the balcony every time he visited, just for the pleasure of watching Reichert roll his eyes and pull him back inside.

The view was considerably different this morning. Matt stood atop the roof of his own building, since there was no view from his window; he ignored the other tenants likewise huddled in groups nearby, murmuring to themselves. He speed-dialed Reichert's number for the third time, whispering, "Pick up, pick up," under his breath, but for the third time got nothing but the answering machine. He hated leaving so many messages, especially if someone other than Reichert might hear them. So he didn't give his name or any other identifying details, just asked for Reichert to call him as soon as possible. When the answering machine picked up yet again-"Hey, this is Justin Reichert, leave your name and number and I'll get back to you"-Matt almost said nothing, since there was little left to say, but a tiny twinge inside him made him speak anyway.

"Justin, pick up. Are you there?" A long pause. He knew Reichert would have answered by now if he were home. Matt bit his lip, hating the emotion that nearly cracked his voice, having to clear his throat to speak again. "Please call me when you wake up or get back-please?" He waited on the line, just in case, until the machine beeped and the phone hung up. A fourth attempt at calling failed to go through; the cell phone towers were overburdened. He didn't wonder why.

He headed back for the stairway, exiting the roof and making his way down to the ground level. He left the building and jogged out into the street without worrying about a car hitting him, since there was practically no traffic now, aside from foot traffic, and even that was starting to die down as people headed further downtown or out of town, according to their interests. It took him some time on foot to reach Reichert's building; he was gasping for breath by the time he reached the door after so many flights of stairs. He refused to take the elevator today. He'd told himself not to do something so childish, so juvenile and clingy, as to rush to the detective's apartment uninvited-We spoke last night-he has today off-he said he was turning off his phone and sleeping in-he hasn't woken up yet-but the sensible part of his mind was rapidly losing out in view of everything he'd seen so far that morning.

Reichert had never had the chance to give him a key, if he'd even planned to. Matt knocked, then pounded on his door. He almost attempted picking the lock before realizing the door wasn't even locked in the first place-something niggled at him that that wasn't a good sign-and slipped inside, fighting down the irrational guilt of trespassing; he looked in every room, but no one was there. There were no explanatory notes anywhere in the apartment; he didn't know if Reichert were the type to leave any. The messages on the answering machine were accumulating-far more than Matt himself had called in, so he knew others were calling as well. The television was on, and the sliding glass door of the balcony was open. Matt hurried out to it even though he knew nobody would be there. He leaned over the railing as if looking might help him somehow, though it did nothing but show him the same thing that was showing on the TV, that was showing on probably every TV in the city. He stared at the changed skyline-there was only one Tower now, just one fucking milk carton-for merely a moment before pulling back in and leaving the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him this time though it made little sense. He rubbed his hands together, his breath coming quick as he walked briskly back down the hallway toward the stairs.