Shooting Matt Ch. 09

"Yeah, but your dick wasn't pointing toward the moon when we walked up here."

"Hell, dude, if you're going to get all technical and detail oriented on me, it'll make life more complicated than it needs to be."

They run into Lee as soon as they push open the door to the men's shower room. If he notices Matt's erection, it's not apparent.

"Thought you fellas might need soap. Looks like you managed without."

"Actually, we do need soap," Matt confesses. "We rinsed the lake water off. We'll get some when we go to town for the other stuff we forgot. I think we'll be able to stand each other until tomorrow."

"It would seem so," Lee drawls. "Here, take it anyway. You can replace it when you go to town but you'll have it for morning, if you need it."

"Thanks, Lee," Liam tells him. The man keeps darting glances at him. It's making him feel a bit weird.

"Glenna tells me you go to State?"

"Yes, sir. My pop says they have an unbroken tradition of failure to educate."

Lee's eyes widen, just a bit but enough to be noticeable.

"He, my dad, is kidding," Liam stammers, afraid that he offended Lee. "It's a good school. He went there himself."

"Oh, don't worry about offending me," Lee says, shrugging his shoulders. "I've heard that joke before. That's all. What year did your father graduate?"

Liam doesn't have to think about the answer. "'96, the year I was born." He looks at Lee. "Did you know him? Randy Bigland?"

"State's a big place," Lee answers. "See ya, fellas." He turns and starts off down the hill toward the clubhouse.

"That was kinda weird."

"No dude," Matt offers. "That wasn't kinda weird; that was just weird. I can't believe he didn't compliment me on my tool; fuckin' bizarre."

A few hours ago, Liam would have rolled his eyes. Now, he chuckles. "Uh-huh, that was the weird part. You nailed that one."

***

They'd hardly glanced at the cabin earlier so now they spend a few minutes exploring. There's a coffee maker, no coffee. Liam adds that to the list of shit they need to pick up. He looks quickly through the cabinets and finds a pitcher. He rinses the pitcher, fills it and sets inside the fridge. He likes cold water. He likes cold water but he's thirsty. He plucks a glass from the shelf rinses it, fills it and sips the water. He's rarely been out of the city. He has the vague notion that the water is being pumped directly from the lake. It tastes exactly like the water back home. One hurdle cleared, he checks out the bathroom.

The sink would have felt at home at Grover Cleveland High, stainless steel legs and a simple white porcelain bowl, faucet, and two handles. The sink is clean but the base of the faucet and handles are encrusted with whitish calcium salts. There's a small shelf for toothpaste etc. The john, is as simple as the sink. He flushes it, expecting it to overflow. It doesn't. Hurdle two cleared.

The cabin is a studio. The bathroom is separate but the bed, a full-size, is tucked into an alcove. The kitchen, small table and chairs, a sofa, and a coffee table complete the furnishings. The furniture is simple, worn but not falling apart. Liam looks around. He likes it. He lifts up one of the sofa cushions. It's a sleeper. He hopes it doesn't come to that but it's nice to know there's an option beyond simply running back home.

Matt tosses his duffel on top of the bed. He unzips it, paws through the clothes stuffed inside it, and, after some muffled grumbling, finds the quart-sized ziplock freezer bag that serves as his toiletry kit. Even that is over kill; all the bag contains is a toothbrush and a nearly empty crumbled tube of toothpaste.

"Hey, brah, did you notice if there was a hair dryer in the bathroom?"

"No but I didn't look," Liam replies, sitting his own bag on the sofa.

He opens it carefully. His clothes are folded, organized. He moves them aside, delicately, deliberately, as if performing a difficult and tricky operation. The object of his exploration proves not to be a cancerous growth but merely his own toiletries. He is better outfitted than Matt. Besides toothbrush and paste, deodorant, razor and shaving cream.

"No dryer," Matt calls from the bathroom. "Damn. It takes forever for my hair to dry and I hate getting my pillow wet."

"We can grab you one tomorrow," Liam tells him as he joins him in the bathroom. He wets his toothbrush and begins to brush his teeth. He sees Matt watching him in the mirror. Matt, smiling, steps closer. He presses his half-hard dick against Liam's ass.

"Don't mind me, brah," Matt croons. "I'm just waiting to brush my own teeth."

Liam finds the strength to refrain from grinding his ass against his friend's dick. He finishes, spits, rinses, spits again, before stepping to one side. He offers Matt a half bow and with a sweep of his right arm, cedes ownership of the sink.

Matt tips his head, acknowledging the gift. He manages to force enough toothpaste from the mangled tube for one last brush. He's not surprised but very happy when Liam stands behind him and begins to swivel his hips, raking his cock across Matt's ass cheeks.

"Don't mind me, brah," Liam intones, trying to imitate Matt.

Matt rinses before turning.

"I don't mind, not even a little," he assures Liam before kissing him.

***

They avoid looking at each other as they stand beside the bed. There is something about the prospect of sleeping beside each other that is beyond simple flirting. Everything seems, suddenly, much more real.

"Dude, this feels strange," Liam confesses.

"Uh-huh," Matt agrees. "I feel like I'm playing at being grown up or something." He looks at his friend. "I don't know why."

"Because that's exactly how it feels, dude. It's not like we met in a bar or at a party and are crashing somewhere. It's not even like we've been dating and now we're going to sleep together. We packed, drove four hours, and are in a room, like we're a couple and we haven't even had a date yet." Liam looks more than a little bewildered. "And my own pop is the instigator."

"Yeah," Matt agrees, nodding. "You're right, mon ami." He reaches for the bedspread and pulls it back. "I feel guilty though, like I'm cutting Randy out -"

"Nope. Knock it off," Liam cuts him off. "Pop was right. We have to make this about us, not about him."

"That's impossible, brah. You know that. He's your dad. You love him. I could, maybe, love him, in a different way, but I'll always dig him. He's part of 'us' whether or not we want him to be."

"Are you saying that you're going to feel so guilty about this that it's not worth trying? If you are then I don't want to take this any further. I can sleep on the couch. We can still hang out, enjoy the lake, do some hiking. We can have fun but if you've already decided more is out of the question, then I don't want to take it any further."

Matt pulls back the cover and top sheet and climbs into the bed. He reaches out for Liam's hand.

"That's not what I'm saying at all, brah." He tugs at Liam's hand. "Come on. Lie down."

***

Two hundred and forty miles, north-north-west, Randy stares at the ceiling.