Orchard Street

"Long time ago," Vincent said, looking over at the wall above his workbench. From the framed picture there, his younger self smiled out, leaning on an old Harley at a gas station in the middle of Nevada when he'd rode cross-country. The picture had been taken a week before he arrived in California, two weeks before he met Elaine. In the picture he was muscular, clean cut, a rather handsome devil. How things have changed.

"My first boyfriend rode a motorcycle," Dante said, patting the frame of the bike.

"First?" Vincent looked over his shoulder at Dante. Then the question slipped out. "How many have there been?"

"Two!" Dante chirped, holding up two fingers. "Hayden and Lewis. Both were good guys, just not what I was looking for. I've mostly flitted around since then."

Vincent felt a strange urge to ask the logical follow-up question - how many men Dante had "flitted around" between. He tamped down on it. "As far as I know Tobias doesn't have a boyfriend. Despite him coming clean with me about being gay he still hasn't told me much about that side of his life." He turned and walked over to his folding chair next to the bike. "I mean, I don't know how much he's really supposed to tell me." He chuckled nervously. "I'm kind of new to this."

Dante smiled, flicking his head to get his long curly hair out of his eyes. "It definitely took some time for my folks to come around. How did you feel when he told you?"

Vincent sat down heavily in his chair. "Kind of like 'no, duh.' It was fairly obvious to me for a while, ever since he was in high school, really. I came to terms with the possibility long before he pulled me aside and told me." He paused. "Did...oh, I probably shouldn't ask."

"No no no, ask!" Dante said, moving around the bike. He sat down sidesaddle on the leather seat, his feet resting on the floor.

Vincent leaned back, rubbing his thumb along the side of his hand. "Were you and Tobias ever a thing?"

Dante snickered and shook his head. "No. Though I think we went through our awakening together. Watching varsity sports is a whole 'nother game if you're young, gay and horny, believe me. Each of us kind of noticed that the other was looking, then we started talking about it." He ran a hand through his hair. "To be honest, I think it's kind of surprising we didn't fool around with one another at all."

"Why's that?"

Dante chewed the inside of his cheek. "Well, I can't speak for Toby, but when I got to college and started getting involved with the LGBT people on campus people seemed mystified that I hadn't lost my virginity."

Vincent laced his fingers and rubbed them against one another. "I mean, there's no law saying you have to lose your virginity by college."

"True," Dante said. "But, well, that issue got fixed rather quickly." He snickered. "I think I was up there for about, oh, a week before I'd lost it."

Vincent laughed. "College, right?" He fought back the urge to ask what kind of guy Dante had fucked first. Why did he need to know that? That wasn't anything remotely resembling his business.

Still, a part of him wanted to know.

Dante laughed with him, then his face grew more serious. "So...and please tell me if this is none of my business, but...what is the deal with your wife?"

Vincent blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just..." Dante wiggled his fingers, as if searching for the right words. Vincent stared at those fingers, imagining them doing other things, and felt his breathing quicken slightly. "Tobias didn't want to come home this week because of her. She didn't come to the party, which obviously affected you in some way, because you bailed on the party early, and every time I saw you when we were over there you just looked lost." He ran a hand through his hair again. "Is something wrong with her?"

Vincent leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. The room had become a bearable temperature now, thanks to the A/C unit humming gently in the corner. "No, nothing's wrong. She's just..."

"Just what?" Dante pressed.

"She's become really fixated on church," Vincent said. "Like, to an almost bizarre extent. It all started a few years ago when Toby was a senior in high school. First she went twice a week, then three times, now it's up to four, plus she teaches CCD classes most days afterward. Along with..." He didn't need to go there.

"With what?"

Vincent looked at Dante. His eyes were sympathetic, and glittered with some other emotion as well. "Our marriage isn't what it used to be," he said, feeling that was neutral enough.

"The two of you have a dead bedroom," Dante said flatly.

Vincent knew he should've denied it, maybe even berated Dante for saying something like that, but what was the point? That would only be just as much of an admission anyway. So he nodded. "It's not even that the bedroom's dead. She's just so damn frosty. She insists that she do everything now, from cooking to cleaning."

Dante made a face. "That's...really weird. You two always shared the weight. I remember when I was younger you even had that little calendar in the kitchen detailing who did what."

"Exactly!" Vincent leaned forward, his exasperation getting the better of him. He ran his hands through his crew cut. "I never wanted a token suburban wife. I married her precisely because she wasn't like this. I thought she'd never turn into this."

"Hey hey hey," Dante said, sliding off the bike seat onto his knees. He moved across the garage floor over to in front of Vincent and put his hands on his knees. "It's not your fault."

Vincent folded his arms, flinching at Dante's touch. "I don't know what to do."

Dante inclined his head and leaned forward, so that his face was inches from Vincent's. "There's plenty of options!" he chirped, rubbing Vincent's knees. "Figure out why she is like she is, maybe go to some counseling or-" He paused. "Oh."

It took Vincent a moment to realize why Dante had stopped talking. When he did, utter mortification spread through him.

The tips of Dante's fingers had brushed against the erection inside Vincent's pants.

He'd been ignoring it as best he could. He didn't know why it was there. He was sitting in his garage talking to his neighbor's adult son. An adult son that happened to be rather handsome. And gay. Who had showed him more casual affection in an hour than his wife had in a year. Who he'd been staring at. Who he'd been wanting to know a bunch of salacious details about.

Dante took a single, long breath. His fingers didn't leave Vincent's hard-on inside his pants. "I-I..." Vincent stammered.

Those green eyes slowly slid up to meet his. They blinked, once. They held no judgement. Dante slid his hand further up Vincent's leg, gently squeezing. "Oh."

"I...I'm sorry," Vincent said. "I-I don't know what's-"

"Shush," Dante murmured, his touches gentle. "You said your bedroom's dead. I don't blame you." He slowly pushed Vincent's legs apart and scooted between them. "I can take care of it, if you want."

Vincent couldn't suppress the needy breath he took. He was achingly hard, and Dante's touches were oh so gentle. "You don't have to," he panted.

Dante slowly reached up and deftly undid the button on Vincent's pants. "I want to," Dante purred. He dragged down Vincent's zipper. "Like I said, I flit around a lot. Emphasis on a lot." He reached up with his other hand and cupped Vincent's cock through his boxers. "And if you're wife's not taking care of you, then why not let me?" He winked lazily.

"I just...we shouldn't..." Vincent's hand clenched and unclenched. "I've known you ever since you were young, this isn't right!"

"True," Dante admitted. "But I'm an adult now, a senior in college. I can make my own choices."

"Your parents..."

"Don't. Need. To know." Dante grinned up at him. He licked his lips slowly.

Vincent stared down at him for a time, his mind blank, as if he was trying to absolve himself of what was about to happen. Because it was about to happen. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

"I don't hear a 'no,'" Dante said. He reached up and drew down Vincent's boxers. He gasped as he drew out Vincent's erection, rubbing it gently in his hands. "Fuck, you're big." He grinned and leaned in, nuzzling up the underside of Vincent's cock. "What the hell is your wife doing that she's not playing with this every night?"

"There was a time when that was the case," Vincent panted. "But I don't want to think about that right now."

"Fair enough," Dante murmured. He began kissing Vince's cock, light pecks that would be innocent enough in any other scenario. His tongue flicked out, lathing up the underside and swirling around his thick cockhead. Then he went back down, feathering more kisses as he worked his way down to Vincent's heavy balls. There he doubled down, his tongue flitting out across the sensitive skin and lapping without abandon.

"Dante, you..." Vincent panted. "Oh, fuck." He slid forward a little in the chair, allowing Dante better access.

"Yes," Dante murmured, cupping one of Vincent's balls in his tongue. He exhaled, and the warmth of his breath made Vincent shudder. "I can do the things that your wife can't do. What she won't do."

"Please," Vincent murmured.

Dante drew his tongue up Vincent's cock again, and kissed the head with the passion reserved for a lover. His tongue probed Vincent's cockslit, lapping up the pre leaking there. Vincent leaned back into his chair, arching his hips up. Dante snickered, then parted his lips and slid them down Vincent's cock. He let out a low moan, the vibrations of his mouth seeming to translate to ripples of pleasure that spread through Vincent's body. Vincent reached out and rested his hand on Dante's head, curling his fingers into the Dante's long hair.

Dante began to bob his head, reaching up to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear. He rested one hand on Vincent's thigh, the other wrapping gently around the base of Vincent's cock and began to stroke in time with the motions of his mouth. His tongue curled on the underside of Vincent's cock, his breaths through his nose tingling the skin of Vincent's groin.

Vicent put his other hand on Dante's head, keeping his head in his lap as he began to shudder and shake. "Not yet," he panted. "I don't want this to end just yet..." Dante sped up his efforts, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm that had Vincent seeing stars. Those green eyes looked up and met his own, holding his gaze. Vincent's breathing deepened as he felt his peak coming, and was powerless to stop it. "Ah! Dante!"

Vincent's hands curled roughly in Dante's hair as he came. Dante made a small noise, swallowing Vincent's load, not letting up with his tongue as he deepthroated Vincent as best he could. His throat contracted again and again as he drank every drop of Vincent's cum. Vincent let out a long moan and let his head loll, his breathing ragged. "Fuck...fuck..."

Dante slowly drew his lips up and off Vincent's cock, as if reluctant to let it go. He reached up and wiped away a bit of saliva with his thumb. "I think you needed that."

Vincent slowly composed himself. He tucked his cock away and buttoned up his pants, letting his breathing slowly return to normal. As the pleasure high faded, a profound sense of shame settled on him. It felt like his redwood cross had been heated with a blowtorch. "I think you might be right, but..."

Dante got to his feet, leaning on the bike again. "But?"

"I feel like we just made a mistake."

Dante arched an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

Vincent bit his lip. "I... I don't know."

Dante stood up straight and cocked his hip. "Well, you know where I'll be. If you think of a reason, feel free to tell me. Or alternatively..." He walked over to the garage door to the inside of the house, then looked back over his shoulder. "If you want more, you know where I'll be."

Then he left, and Vincent didn't stop him.

When Elaine returned from the church several hours later, Vincent feared that she would just know what he'd done via some spousal sixth sense. His body still tingled with the memory of Dante, his lips around his cock, his tongue flicking underneath his balls to a place where Elaine had never dared even when they fucked regularly. He felt like his guilt would hang around him like a cloud, a scent as pungent as bad cologne.

"How did everything go, honey?" he asked her as she walked through the front door into the living room where he sat watching TV and trying his best to not look guilty.

"Just fine," Elaine said, breezing past him into the kitchen.

Vincent trailed behind her. "Just fine? What does that mean?"

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. "It means just fine, Vinnie. Everyone showed up, everything went smoothly."

Vincent leaned against the wall. "Okay. Good to hear."

Elaine fully turned towards him. "Something wrong?"

"No."

Elaine nodded and kept walking into their kitchen. She made dinner, and afterwards they went through their usual routine. They sat on the couch and watched the news, and as always Vincent went to bed first. Lying there on the sheets in the dark only made his mind wander back to the blowjob, back to the pleasure. His mind wandered down more lewd pathways, and he got hard as he imagined Dante's head in his lap again. Ashamed, he gave himself a quick release before rolling over onto his side and trying to fall asleep. He wasn't able to until a good while after Elaine slipped under the covers behind him.

The next day, Elaine left for the day again, leaving Vincent alone in the house. He putzed around for several hours, even becoming bored with fiddling with his bike. He even contemplated going into work, even though it was a Saturday and he was still technically on vacation.

He wound up pacing his living room, trying to figure out why he'd done what he had with Dante. He'd always been straight, through high school, college, and beyond. He'd also always been faithful, too. Now he wasn't sure if he was either of those things.

Vincent stopped and glanced out his front windows, across the street and to the left where the Jeffersons lived. He and Elaine had moved to Orchard Street two decades and change ago because it had been a good place to raise their son. Now that Tobias was gone and off to college, did that mean that their reason for living here was gone as well? Vincent certainly did feel out of place in the neighborhood now. Before, he'd had something in common with all the other families. But now everyone's kids were off to college, living their own lives. Were his recent struggles with Elaine tethered to that? Or was it the other way around - did he feel like the neighborhood had grown worn because of his troubles with Elaine?

He huffed out a breath. Mr. Jefferson and Dante walked out of their backyard and cut across the front yard. As they did, Dante glanced over at Vincent's windows. He smiled and waved behind his father's back. Vincent offered a little half-wave in response. Then the two moved up the steps and into the house. In that moment Vincent knew what he had to do.

He grabbed one of the house phones off the cradle and dialed in Tobias's number. The phone rang three times before his son answered. "Hey, Dad," Tobias said, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Hey, Toby," Vincent said.

"What's up?"

Vincent leaned against the kitchen counter, scowling at the color of the stone. "Nothing much, just wanted to talk to you."

He heard Tobias padding around somewhere on the other end of the call. "Yeah?" Tobias said, and Vincent heard a door shut on his end. "What about?"

Vincent stared at the wallpaper in the kitchen, where it ran into the moulding around one of the entrances to the kitchen. It was starting to peel. He sighed. "That thing you told me a few months ago that you asked me to keep from your mother."

Tobias sucked in a breath. "Fuck, did she find out?"

"No," Vincent said. "At least not yet. I've kept my promise, Toby. But Dante from across the street is home, and he told me the other day that you had a different reason than you told me for wanting to stay up there at the university."

"God dammit," Tobias muttered, and Vincent could imagine his son pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers like he always did when he was frustrated. "All the dick Dante sucks probably loosened his fucking mouth."

"Hey," Vincent snapped, half at Tobias and half at himself as he saw Dante's mouth sliding down his cock in his mind's eye. "Watch your mouth."

Tobias sighed. "Sorry. He does get around though, Dad, believe me." He sighed again, far heavier than he did the previous time. "He told you what I told him, then?"

"Something about your mother being a cunt?"

"That's about the truth of it. Don't tell me that I can't say that about her, Dad, she's a fucking bitch and you know it."

"That's not the point, Tobias," Vincent said.

"It's entirely the point," Tobias snapped. "I get hyperaware of every snarky crack she makes about 'the homosexuals' or 'the queers,' and it takes all my willpower not to lose it with her. I don't know what they're teaching at that fucking church she goes to, but I want no part of it. And I see how the two of you act - how long has it been since the two of you ever did anything together? You act like two planets orbiting around one another, never quite coming together."

Vincent was silent for a long time. The only sound was the ticking of the clock in the hallway. What could he say to that?

"I'm sorry, Dad," Tobais said. "But it needed to be said."

Vincent nodded. "I understand." He paused for a while. "Tobias, when did you figure out you were gay?" he asked. "And how?"

Tobias didn't say anything for a moment. "Sophomore year of high school," he answered quietly. "I was walking through the department store with Mom one day and picked one of those packages of boxer briefs off the wall, the ones where there's a grayscale picture of the guy on the outside wearing the skivvies." He chuckled. "Couldn't stop staring at it."

Vincent laughed. "I had no idea."

"I tried to keep it that way. I got a vibe off Mom. Only recently did I realize I had her pegged right. You though..." Vincent heard Tobias move something. "I don't know why I felt comfortable telling you."

Vincent wanted to tell him because I may be just like you, but he held his tongue. "I appreciate it. And I'll keep it a secret until you want to tell your mother yourself."

"That's probably not gonna happen until I'm graduated and out of the house," Tobias said. "Get off Orchard Street before I tell her."

"Yeah," Vincent said, standing up. "I understand that."

They made small talk for another few minutes, until Tobias declared that he had to go. Vincent wished his son well and hung up, feeling slightly less guilty. He went and worked on his bike for the rest of the afternoon, feeling a sense of certainty in what he was going to do that night. He had to talk to Elaine, husband to wife, and try to understand what was going on.

When she came home, Vincent had jumped the gun on dinner. Elaine walked into the kitchen and gasped audibly. "Vincent! What are you doing?"

"Making dinner!" he announced proudly, flipping a piece of chicken out of the pan and onto the plate, already loaded with some sauteed vegetables. "You're just in time."

"I was saving those for Tuesday!" Elaine pouted, gesturing at the chicken.

"Well, I didn't know," Vincent said. "Because you never told me. But I can get more tomorrow for Tuesday."

"What brought all this about?" Elaine demanded. "This isn't like you."

"A man can't cook dinner for his wife every once in awhile?" he said, grabbing the full plates off the kitchen counter. He sauntered over to the table, which he'd already set with silverware. One plate went down in front of Elaine's seat, and he walked around to sit down in his.