Shooting Matt Ch. 13

"Why don't you two join us for dinner?" she offers.

"Nope, not this time. Wander up to the cabin whenever you want but we'll eat in an hour or so." I look at Kent. "Is that okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."

My suit is still wet. I point the cabin out to Kent and tell him I'll meet him there and head off up the trail through the pines. He pulls his car up to the cabin and parks.

"Is this kinda weird?" He asks.

"Yup," I agree with a smile. "It's been a weird week. I'm learning to go with it."

"I don't know. Lately, I've become a creature of habit."

"I know the feeling," I tell him. "Come on. There's one cinnamon roll left from this morning. Supper will take a bit and I bet you're hungry. Pop it in the microwave for a few seconds. Relax while I get supper going."

I rummage in the packed refrigerator looking for what I need. I hear the whir of the microwave. It dings. There's a moment or so of silence followed by the low sigh I was expecting.

"Good, aren't they?"

"Good? They're amazing."

"I said almost the same thing this morning."

I find a bowl and dump the ground beef in and start chopping onions.

"Anything I can help you with?"

"No, not at the moment. No, I take that back. Can you open me a beer?"

He starts for the fridge.

"In the cooler, beside the side door, no room in the fridge."

As he changes course I scrape the onions into the bowl and tear up some parsley. By the time I hear the fritz of the pop top opening, my hands are mixing the meat. Kent takes a look and holds the beer can to my mouth. I tip my head back and he pours beer into my mouth.

"Wow. That's service," I tell him after I swallow.

"I'm a nurse. It's what I do."

I nod. "Do me a favor. Throw a spoonful of that mustard in here." I nod at the bowl. "And a tablespoon or so of Worcestershire sauce."

I finish mixing the meat and make the patties. "The trick is to minimize the handling of the meat. The more you handle it the more the protein is released and the gummier and tougher the meat."

Kent nods, apparently interested.

"Don't worry about veggies. I bought them already cleaned and cut. I didn't want to mess around in this small kitchen trying to clean vegetables. You okay with raw veggies?"

He nods. "It is a small cabin. I notice there's only one bed."

I nod. "The sofa pulls out. I'll take it."

No response.

"How's Matt doing?"

"Good," he smiles. "He has more pain than he lets on about but he's going full speed ahead in rehab. I think they'll let him go tomorrow."

"Excellent." I frown. "That means I'll have to head back to Cleveland and finish putting the house back together."

"Are you remodeling?"

"Yeah. I jumped in with both feet. I'm almost done with the floors. Another coat of varnish should do it. Although, I'd better re-clean them. They'll have been collecting dust for a couple of days. I still need to paint." I nudge the water on with an elbow. "Kent, would you squirt some soap on my hands, please? I don't want to get this mess on the soap bottle."

"Sure." He squirts a dime-size dollop of blue dish soap into my palm. He sips on his beer and washes his hands. "Why did you agree to Matt telling me to come up here?"

I shrug. "Why did you?"

"Touché." He salutes me with his beer can. "I'm not really sure."

"Neither am I. Like I said I've been trying to go with the flow. And it seemed like this was part of the flow."

"That's crazy."

"Tell me about it." I dry my hands. "Let's get the grill going. I bet you ten bucks Glenna brings a bunch of food with her."

"Nope, not taking that bet. Have you known her long?"

"No. Not really. She was just a punky little teenager when I used to come here. I haven't been back for, Christ, over twenty years. I thought this place might be a nice place for Liam and Matt to sort things out."

"Yeah, I'm still a little confused by that," Kent tells me as I bend to look over the grill. It's gas. Not my favorite but beggars, choosers, all that.

"I explained that in the hospital, didn't I? I had a crush on Matt. Still do, but I'm at least mature enough to know a crush isn't enough. The odds are long but still, the odds are better for the two of them than for me and Matt."

"Doesn't sound like going with the flow to me?"

"Really? Seems perfectly aligned to me." I straighten up. "Stand back. If this thing blows up, I'll need a nurse to salve my burns."

The grill lights without a fuss. I feel as if the damn thing is reproaching my lack of faith. I set it on 'high' to burn off the char left from the last use. I almost forget to check the grease trap. Empty. Good, burning the cabin down and starting a forest fire is not how I want the evening to end.

I pull the chairs over to where I can keep an eye on the grill. We sit down. I take a sip of beer.

"Tell me about Brad."

"Brad?"

"That was your partner's name or am I remembering it wrong?"

"No, Brad is right. Why would you want to talk about Brad?"

I shrug. "Not sure. Have you talked about him with anyone else?"

It's his turn to shrug. "Not really." I wait. "It's different for us, gay men, still. It's like no one takes us seriously, like we're just playing house. My parents say they accept me as I am. They loved Brad; I'm sure of that. But even to them, it was like my grief wasn't the same as theirs would be if one of them died. Maybe I'm making that up. Maybe that's not true. Maybe it's my own insecurity but it doesn't feel like that."

I nod.

"I still miss him."

"Why wouldn't you? You loved him and he's gone."

"Yeah."

"Was he funny?"

Kent snorts. "No. Brad had no sense of humor at all. He didn't get it. I tried everything from Pryor to Monty Python to Chris Rock. I don't think he cracked a smile."

"Did that bother you?"

"No. I loved it. It was so him. I would crack up, not at whatever we were watching, but at his utter inability to see what was funny." He shakes his head. "Typical doctor. He thought he could learn to understand humor from a book. He checked out every book the library had on humor, theory of humor, humor in society, how to be funny, the best 1,000 jokes of all time. That was even funnier than watching him watch a comedy.

"I kept bugging him about that damn mole. It wasn't even that he ignored me. He was always too busy to see someone. How could he be too busy? Fuck, all he had to do was lift his shirt up in the doctor's lounge, the next time one of the dermatologists was in there." He snorts. "Naw, dermatologist are hardly ever in the hospital; that's why they become dermatologists. But it's not like he'd have any trouble getting an appointment. And not because he was a doctor. Anyone calls a dermatology office and says 'I have a funny mole' gets seen immediately.

"By the time he saw a doctor it had spread to his liver and his bones. It was ugly, the pain. Melanoma is a funny cancer, hard to predict. It's one of the ones that, on occasion, seems to just disappear, probably because the body can recognize it as cancer and fight back. We tried an experimental, immunologic treatment.

"Who knows if it would have worked. His immune system went haywire. He started leaking fluid everywhere, including his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He had made it clear he didn't want to be on a ventilator but I couldn't watch him drown in his own bed. I told them to go ahead. When he found out he had metastatic melanoma, he made an appointment with a lawyer, made sure I had medical power of attorney.

"His fucking parents weren't around. He refused to call them. I went behind his back and called. His mom answered. I told her he had cancer. She hung up. Fucking cunt, cunts, both of them. I assume they thought he had AIDS or something. God, I hate them.

"In the end, the ventilator didn't matter at all. His blood pressure dropped through the basement. They tried pressors. Nothing. He just died. I don't think he even knew I was there."

Kent is quiet for a moment. I don't think he knows his cheeks are wet. He crushes the beer can in his hand. Beer foams over his fist.

"You fucking asshole! Why the fuck won't you listen to me?!" He drops the can. He looks at me without really seeing me. "It's my fault. Why didn't I make him do see the doctor? It's my fault."

"No. It isn't your fault. You'll understand that in time."

He throws the beer can over the porch rail without looking and goes inside.

I walk down the steps and retrieve the can.

"How much of that did you hear?" I can see Glenna and Leon standing in the long shadow of a tree.

"Most of it," Glenna tells me. "We didn't want to eavesdrop but I was afraid if we turned around he'd hear. I didn't want to keep going. It sounded like he really needed to get that off his chest. The poor man."

"Don't worry about it. Give me a minute and then come on up."

I turn the gas down, open the grill and start to scrub the grate with one of those pumice stones. Glenna calls up hello and climbs up the stairs, followed by Leon.

"Kent, Glenna and Leon are here. I'm getting the burgers. I would have won the bet. They're both carrying food."

The bathroom door is closed. I hear the water running.

***

"Are you trying to set Kent up with my pop?"

"Who? Me?"

Liam's look proclaims his skepticism of his friend's denial.

"Brah, they're both cool dudes. Wouldn't it be sick if they got together?" Matt admits as he struggles to peel off the sweaty tee shirt clinging to his body. It's clear that arching his back is uncomfortable.

"Here, let me help. Just hold your arms up."

Liam works the clingy shirt over Matt's head. He holds it to his nose for a moment and inhales.

"Does the bathroom door lock?"

"I don't think so but they always knock."

Liam's aversion to risk has undergone as radical a revision as his father's. He takes Matt by the hand and leads him to the bathroom. He closes the door. There's a fold down wooden seat next to the shower. He pushes it down with one hand and sits. He rests his hands on Matt's hips and urges him forward.

He hooks his fingers in the top of the grey gym shorts. They're dark with sweat along the crack of Matt's ass and in an enticing arc above his dick; a dick that is already growing longer at the feel of Liam's hands on his skin.

The shorts come off easier than the tee shirt. Afraid of destroying the mood but equally committed to playing fair, Matt touches Liam's cheek and tilts his head up.

"Dude, I haven't showered yet," he whispers.

Head tilted back, eyes locked on Matt's, Liam leans forward and presses his face into the angle where Matt's dick and balls meet his right thigh. It's warm and wet and smells like 'man'. When he's sure he's made his point, he turns, lowers his head, and scoops Matt's rapidly hardening dick into his mouth.

He's still soft enough that he can deep throat without gagging. He pushes his nose against the stubbly skin at the base of Matt's cock. He holds there, imbibing the musk of his lover, letting his lover's cock grow rigid in his mouth and throat. When he feels as if he might gag he, with reluctance, pulls back.

He does so slowly, making sure he keeps his tongue pressed firmly against the underside of the shaft. He purses his lips, forcing the crown to pop from between them. Matt sighs and his hands find Liam's head. His hands don't urge or manipulate, they encourage and support.

Liam's lips slip past the head of Matt's dick and linger, kissing it. His tongue presses into the slit. He's inexperienced. He has nothing to compare it to and thus, has no concept of how lucky he is that Matt produces such prodigious amounts of precum. It's a blessing and a treasure that escapes him. What doesn't escape him is the exquisite taste and the way the fluid clings to the tip of his tongue.

He tells himself to relax and lowers his head. He has half the dick in his mouth before the head touches the back of his throat. He pulls back slightly, exhales, and pushes forward. Matt lowers his hips an inch or so. The slight change in angle is enough. The head of his dick makes it past the narrow place in Liam's throat. His eyes water but he doesn't gag. Once more, he inhales the scent of his lover. The deeper musk, the softer scent of fresh sweat.

He withdraws, kisses the head, and repeats. He deep throats Matt's dick until he can do so without effort. He's deeply happy with his accomplishment, both because what it allows him to do for his lover and because, if he's totally honest with himself, he totally fucking loves sucking dick.

He loves it but he's enticed about something new, and for him, nearly everything sexual in nature is new. He had no idea, why would he, that scents could be so erotic. Sure, he'd purchased his share of body washes and colognes, assuming if they attract horny nubile chicks, they'd attract horny hung dudes as well. But he'd never smelled anything as boner-inducing as Matt's crotch.

He lets the dick slip past his lips and pushes his face back into the crease between Matt's cock and balls and his thigh. He strokes. He inhales. His tongues darts and plays with Matt's right nut. He sucks it into his mouth and Matt gasps. He pushes Matt's dick up and shifts slightly on the bench. He begins to nuzzle, lick and suck at the left one. Matt's fingers tighten on his head.

Liam twists his head into an awkward position, pushing his face under the ball sack, tongue probing a part of the body he knows as 'taint' but is not sure if the word applies to a dude.

"Turn around. Lean against the wall." As Matt begins to turn, the nurturing side of Liam pushes past his lust. "Keep your back straight. Don't hurt it."

He's watched this being done. He doesn't allow himself to recall the details of who he saw doing it but he remembers the act.

His hands caress and knead Matt's ass cheeks. It will take more than a few days of not swimming, of not working out, for the muscle beneath his fingers to grow soft. He leans forward, plants his lips in the hollow at the base of the spine. He kisses his way down the crack. His hands spread Matt's ass.

The scent here is muskier, earthier, more powerful. And just as intoxicating. It's not the smell of scat, which is what he'd feared and wondered if he could have dealt with. No, it's just the smell of Matt, of man, concentrated, potent, not to be trifled with.

Matt's ass crack is, apart from his head, the hairiest part of his body. He's not bothered to shave deep in the crack, just the cheeks. Liam works his face into the crack. Matt's ass cheeks are cool against his face. He knows his face, his cheeks, are flushed but the coolness of Matt's skin makes him feel as if he's on fire.

The hair seems to have concentrated Matt's musk. He's lost in the scent. He kisses the ridged skin at the center of the crack. The hair tickles his lips. He will ask Matt to leave him this little patch of hair, if no other, but hopes he'll let his pubes grow a little longer.

He tugs harder at the cheeks, pushes his face in deeper. He stops kissing and goes to work with his tongue. He twirls it in circles around the tight slit-like sphincter. His intoxication grows. He probes with his tongue. He's able to remove one hand, work it between Matt's legs.

He fondles the heavy balls, squeezing, pulling, no harder than he imagines he would like. Matt pushes against his tongue and the tip penetrates the slit. He moves his hand to the shaft. Matt's balls rest atop his arm.

He strokes the slick cock, forcing himself to go slow, to not give in to the urgency his lust demands. He times the thrusts of his tongue with the stroke of his hand. He feels Matt's ball sack tighten. He feels his body stiffen. He's nearly squeezed out of the crack but pushes back.

His sphincter twitches as he cums all over the bathroom floor.

Matt pulls away panting. Liam doesn't give a shit about the cum on the floor or his knees. He drops off the bench, his mouth frantically seeking Matt's dick.

He holds the slowly softening dick in his mouth and savors the last slow leak of cum that fills his mouth.

Matt's dick is soft. It's far from shrunken but it is soft. Liam gives a last longing pull of his lips and stands.

They are still hugging and kissing when someone knocks on the door.

"Mr. Synder, you okay in there?"

"Yeah. It's Matt. You know like --"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Give me a break. You need anything?" the voice asks.

"No. Liam is helping me get in the shower. I'm cool."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

As the faint footsteps fade they collapse against each other laughing.

***

It's not super obvious Kent has been crying when he emerges from the bathroom. He nods to the new arrivals.

"You think the bugs will be too bad to eat outside?" I ask.

Glenna and Leon both nod.

"Well, I'll brave the blood sucking little bastards. I'll toss the burgers on the grill and beat a hasty retreat. You guys stay under cover."

They stare at me. Okay, fine, I'm trying too hard. Jesus. I grab the platter. It's not dark out yet. I don't have to worry about a flood of bugs swarming in from the porch light. I check the grill, turn it down lower and lay out the burgers. It seems silly to run back in. They aren't going to take that long and the mosquitoes aren't that bad. I don't want to leave Kent hanging though.

They're talking about the hospital when I come back in. Glenna starts probing him. Browns or Steelers. That's a critical question in this neck of the woods. If he says 'Bengals', he may not escape with his life. He's not big on football -- he's a neuro ICU nurse after all. Baseball. The Tribe. Glenna is not big on baseball, not enough to make a stink about hanging out with an Indians fan in Pirate country anyway. Leon offers tennis, Federer. Kent offers Nadal. Glenna has heard of the Serb kid. The two men curl their lips. They've reached an age that requires support of the established not the whippersnappers.

I'm soothed by the back and forth of people getting to know each other. Kent seems fine. I duck back out to check on the burgers. The fire is hotter than I thought. As I turn them I move them to the outside of the grill. A quick splash of BBQ sauce and I head back inside.

Oh Christ, it sounds like their talking politics. Who brought that up? It ends with a communal shake of the head.

"The mosquitoes are bad. Yet. Anyone want to help me bring the burgers in?" I ask as I pick up the platter I had set aside earlier for just this purpose.

"Sure," Kent says. I mentally thank my friends for keeping their mouths shut.

Kent holds the platter as I begin to remove the burgers.

"You okay? I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me. I've been upset. I've been upset for years now." Kent speaks quietly but he doesn't whisper. The windows are open. I wonder if he knows the others heard his outburst. "Despite that, believe it or not, during all that time I never realized how pissed I was at Brad. Crazy, huh?"

"No. It doesn't sound crazy at all." I deposit the last burger on the platter. I'm fairly certain this is the first time I haven't dropped at least one thing, burger, dog, chicken leg, on the ground. "I'd be pissed, too. But it wasn't his fault. Shit happens."

"That's too pat, too easy. I don't buy it," Kent replies as I open the screen door for him.

I can see Glenna debating -- say something or keep quiet. She decides to risk it.

"What's too pat?"

"That 'shit happens'," Kent tells her, setting the platter down on the counter. Leon and Glenna join, getting plates and buns. We're quiet until we've re-assembled around the table and everyone has a bite of burger.

"Not bad," Leon says, swallowing.

"There great, Randy. Don't listen to him." Glenna punctuates the statement with a glare at her husband. He seems immune. I smile.

"Thanks. Liam doesn't like onions. At home I just buy the patties, cook 'em until they're tough as shoe leather and slap one on a bun. He covers it in ketchup and that's it. I don't get to do much cooking at home."