alieicanlivewith (5 page)

Garret stopped two feet from the door, sniffing the air. "Oh, man! That's sure smells good," he exclaimed, turning on a bright grin that nearly reduced Otis' brains to mush.

"I made manicotti. I hope you like it."

The two plates from a hodge-podge of dishes that actually matched sat on the table, a newly-purchased candle adorning the center. Garret nodded approvingly and pulled Otis into a brief hug before sitting down.

"I've been dreaming about this all day."

"You have?"

Garret winked. "Having someone cook for me? You betcha."

Over the salad course, Otis asked, "So, make anyone's dreams come true today?"

Garret tilted his head, one eyebrow raised in question.

Did I say something wrong?
Otis' oh-so-ready-to-blush cheeks heated. "Um, at the bank? How was your day?"

Again Garret gave him a funny look, now joined by a pleased upturning of lips. "Fine, thanks. And as a matter of fact, I helped a young couple purchase their first home today."

"Really?" Otis didn't even have to pretend excitement, recalling the day he'd closed on his house.

"That's got to be awesome."

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Garret practically glowed. "It is, actually. But you make people happy too, by solving their computer issues. I'll bet you have some cool stories to tell."

Otis grimaced. "Well, there was this time… "

As before, making conversation with Garret proved easy, and tidbits about their day were interspersed with,

"Whoa! This is good!" and "You made this yourself?"

Another teasing wink accompanied Garret's

pronouncement that the tiramisu was, "Almost better than sex."

Oh lord! Was Garret being deliberately flirty or was it the wine? He'd never been so openly suggestive before. Did that mean Otis stood a chance of at least getting a kiss? "Why don't we head out to the living room, see what's on TV?"

Otis settled Garret in front of the TV and returned to the kitchen, tidying up before bringing the wine bottle and their glasses to the living room. They sat side by side on the couch, sipping wine and wincing through the last excruciating minutes of the Saints' crushing defeat.

What now? If I don't say something he'll leave!
Otis anguished. "Ummm… wanna play a video game?"

"Sure!" Garret responded, sounding happy for a diversion from the sports tragedy they'd just watched.

"What ya got in mind?"

He followed Otis to a bookshelf, running his finger along the cases. "Hey, isn't this the one we played at the arcade?"

Otis smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, it's my favorite." He popped the disk into the gaming console.

He sat a little closer to Garret than actually necessary, under the guise of teaching him how to operate the game controller, so different from the one at the mall. A spicy, woodsy scent filled his nostrils, invoking visions of Garret laid out on his bed, wearing nothing but that
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fragrance. His custom surround-sound provided a sensual background track, some singer he didn't know crooning, "I've found someone..."

After a few false starts, Garret developed some skill with the controller, though he didn't come close to beating a master like Otis. They polished off the first bottle of wine and started on a second, sending both inhibitions and motor control flying out the window.

A few glasses and more lost hand/eye coordination later, Garret suggested with an exaggerated leer, "Why don't we up the stakes?"

"Errr… How so?"

Garret waggled his brows. "Ever play strip poker?"

"Wwwhhha… whaaa… what?"
Oh my God, oh my
God! Did he say strip poker?

"In this case, better make that strip video game."

Garret flashed a sexy smirk.

Taking a healthy sip of wine and barely succeeding in not choking, Otis replied, "You're on," wondering at what point in the unveiling Garret would leave.

To even the playing field, Otis decided to throw a few games, being a gentleman and dying to get naked with Garret. Through triumphs and defeats, Garret never touched him, never even looked at Otis with intent, or wrinkled his brow when yet another hairy body part appeared unobstructed.

Garret unveiled his own body one small bit of skin at a time, biting his lip when he removed his shirt. A light dusting of hair graced two firm pecs. He seemed almost shy, averting his eyes while peeling off his jeans. What did he have to be nervous about? The man's chiseled body belonged on display in a museum somewhere.

When they'd both been reduced to only wearing their boxers, Garret froze, gazing at Otis full on for the first time. A mixture of lust and appreciation washed over his
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face. "I've got a better game we can play." Evil aliens forgotten, Garret tossed the controller carelessly aside to brace Otis' cheeks between his hands. As though in slow motion his full lips descended, touching softly, retreating, then coming back for more. For all the heat between them, Garret remained gentle, his tongue-tip teasing, coaxing Otis' lips to part.

Slow torture ensued, the kiss light and exploring.

Whenever Otis tried to deepen the contact, Garret retreated. "Uh, uh, uh," he scolded, finger waggling.

"Patience is a virtue." He maintained total control, catching Otis off guard with the sheer sensuality of the unhurried play of tongues. Liquid fire settled in his groin, taking his breath and all rational thought. In a heady rush that robbed Otis' senses, Garret laid him back on the couch, slowly sliding off his boxers. His cock stood proud and tall against his belly.

Garret's lips trailed along Otis' chest, neck, ears, all with the same excruciatingly deliberate calm that Otis feared would soon drive him mad with need. Garret stepped back, eyes roaming over Otis' body. Otis sought to hide his imperfections by rolling to his side and covering his pudge with his hands.

"Don't do that," Garret scolded softly, gently pulling Otis' hands apart. His smoldering gaze caught Otis by surprise. That apparent wonderment couldn't be for real, could it? Could it? "You may not believe me," Garret said, voice a husky murmur, "but I think you're perfect."

Still wondering what in the world a superior specimen of masculinity like Garret wanted with him (he hadn't drunk
that
much, had he?), Otis gulped and nodded, still disbelieving, but deciding to run with it. He watched, fascinated, as Garret's fingers skimmed over the slight bulge of his belly.

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Garret shed his boxers at a languid pace. Otis' eyes met Garret's and saw a surprising flash of uncertainty. It was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by a clear challenge.

Otis sat upright, tentatively caressing a set of firm abs, softened to just shy of washboard. He ran his tongue up Garret's chest, feeling a sharp exhale with his lips.

He spoke words he'd heard his former roommate tell dates, never expecting to ever use them himself. "Let's take this to the bedroom, shall we?" He guided Garret down the hall, grateful he'd cleaned his room and changed the sheets.

As reverent as worshippers, they explored each others' bodies at leisure, Otis discovering smooth, mostly hairless muscle, Garret lightly tugging at dark curls. Their mouths connected repeatedly, moving away occasionally to nibble a sensitive earlobe, heat the skin where neck met shoulder, roam lower to tease a nipple, always, always, returning to a kiss.

Garret parted his legs, allowing Otis to slip between them. A clear drop emerged from the slit of Garret's cock. Otis lapped it away, opening wide to slide down a shaft every bit as long, but not nearly as wide, as his own.

Up and down he bobbed, determined to please.

Moans and panted breaths urged him on, along with Garret's rhythmically bucking hips. Wetting his finger, Otis explored lower. As his plump digit slipped inside, Garret writhed, welcoming the invasion.

"If you don't have supplies, check my pants pocket,"

shocked Otis back into reality. He'd been so caught up in the moment that he'd nearly forgotten the need for precaution.
Stupid, stupid!
He reached into the bedside table, extracting a pack of condoms and lube that'd never been opened. He took a quick peek and breathed a sigh
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of relief that they were still in date. How suitable that they'd been saved. The wait would definitely be worth it.

He prepared his lover very carefully, his cock being proportionate to his overall size, and pushed in one tiny fraction at a time, watching Garret's face for signs of distress. Eyes closed tightly in concentration, the man made a gorgeous sight, and for a brief moment doubt clouded Otis' mind.

Then Garret pushed back, seating Otis fully. They rocked together, their coupling a dance where both led, and both followed by turns. Otis' breathy, "Man, you're something else," collided with Garret's, "Damn, you're amazing!"

Weight braced on his arms, Otis took a page from Garret's book, enjoying the most easy-going, and also the most erotic, sex ever. All the while Garret's erection ground into Otis' belly. Their groans, whimpers, and moans took on a frantic edge. All too soon, Garret stiffened beneath him.

"Harder," he begged on a whimper. "I'm almost there."

The pleading cry alone smashed Otis' control, and several deep, plunging thrusts later had him crying out in harmony with Garret's erotic groans.

Afterward, they lay in each other's arms, Otis feeling totally content. Although he waited for the inevitable,

"Well, I guess I should be going," it never came. Instead he took a deep breath and ventured, "This bed would be mighty comfy if you'd stay the night."

Garret answered with a kiss and a rumbling,

"Mmm..."

For the first time in his life, Otis fell asleep in a lover's arms, glasses askew on his face. His last thought before falling asleep was,
What is a guy like Garret
doing with me?

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You Want Me to What?

The next day another first followed their first shared breakfast, one Otis never saw coming. They'd been idly chatting about the weather and what their days held in store when Garret dropped the "folks" bomb. "How about coming home with me for Thanksgiving?"

Otis' heart skipped a beat. "You mean… to your apartment?"

One side of Garret's mouth lifted, his eyes twinkling.

"Nope. Home. As in the house I grew up in."

"Umm… won't your parents be there?"

The half smile blossomed into full. "That's kinda the point. I want you to meet my family."

Oh shit. On an academic level Otis supposed he knew Garret had parents, 'cause, you know, everyone had to have parents. Until now Mr. and Mrs. Mims had been merely a concept. What would they think about him?

Would they think him not good enough for their son?

For that matter, what did they think about Garret's bringing home a man at all?

Otis swallowed hard, heart pounding. "This is really fast, Garret."

"I know. But there's never been anyone I wanted to bring home before, and Christmas seems so far away."

"Errr… Are you… are you sure about this?"

Beaming smile, dimples, and a husky, "Oh, yeah, I'm sure," chipped away at the walls of Otis' resistance.

Garret grabbed and squeezed him in a bone-crunching bear-hug. "Very sure. Say you'll come with me. My folks are gonna love you."

Otis bit back the answer that nearly sprang off his tongue: "As long as you do."

***

Danny and Steve appeared genuinely crestfallen.

Steve acted as spokesman. "Are you sure you don't want to hang out with us and watch football?"

Otis' grin fell and his eyes darted from one concerned frown to the next. His heart sank. He'd never expected that the guys planned to stay home this Thanksgiving, or to be invited to join them.

"Um… I appreciate the offer and everything, but Garret's all keyed up, wanting me to meet his family."

His two techs exchanged resigned looks. Danny said,

"I think I left something out in the van," and hurried out the door, leaving Otis and Steve alone.

"Wimp… " Steve uttered under his breath at Danny's rapidly retreating back, plunking down in a chair, far more serious than Otis had ever seen him before. "Look, Big Guy, I'll be frank here."

"No, be Steve," Otis quipped, desperate to lighten the suddenly oppressive mood.

That lame joke usually got a smile. Today? Nada.

"I know that in the past you've not been totally truthful with Danny and me."

Otis gulped, voice rising an octave. "Say what?" He sensed a good scolding coming on and couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong.

"I know that sometimes you've made things up when we asked if you had plans."

Now wait a minute. "Made things up?" Otis didn't know whether to be shocked or angry at the accusation.

He wasn't in the habit of telling lies. Maybe about the Vincent thing. And how he spent his weekends. Okay.

Busted. Maybe Steve knew what he was talking about after all.

The tech appeared to collapse in on himself with the force of his heavy exhalation. "Are you making up an
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imaginary boyfriend 'cause you think you'll be intruding on our Thanksgiving plans? I told you Abby adores you, and Danny said Teresa and the kids want you there."

Maybe anger wasn't warranted after all. "They do?"

"Yes, they do."

That tore at Otis' heart. He hadn't lied, though he'd intended to, so as not to seem so pathetic before Garret's invitation. The second part of what Steve said hit home.

"Imaginary boyfriend?! You think I made Garret up?"

He didn't know whether to be hurt or pissed again.

Steve held both hands up in a placating gesture.

"Don't get mad! It's just that you've never talked about dating before besides meeting people at clubs, and while me and Danny knew you liked guys, you never…"

With no clue why, Otis threw back his head and laughed. Steve cocked a brow, appearing thoroughly confused. "Look, I know you guys mean well, but Garret is as real as they come. I'm sorry that I haven't thought to bring him around to meet you. We've only been seeing each other a few weeks, and well…"