alieicanlivewith (7 page)

Soon the throng crowded back into the kitchen for dessert. Otis trembled in anticipation, hoping his pies had turned out okay. "Oh my, this is wonderful!"

Garret's mother exclaimed.

"Mmm… " Garret's father agreed. "This has to be the best pumpkin pie I've ever tasted."

Really?
Otis thought. When Garret held a forkful to his lips, Otis opened wide, and the distinct taste of Nonna's recipe done right hit his tongue. Damn. He'd done it. He'd finally done it. If his pie wasn't as good as his grandmother's, it came darned close.

And he couldn't even put his finger on what was different, until Garret leaned in and whispered, "Pies baked with love are always better."

Right then and there, in front of his parents and sisters, Garret kissed Otis full on the lips, and the only response was a collective, "Awwww… "

Extended family said their goodbyes, and those staying the night migrated back to the living room.

Sleepy from so rich a meal, Otis felt perfectly content.

Only then, no longer so worried, did Otis see, actually
see
, what had been before him all that time.

Garret's father extended an arm across the back of the couch, "Dad" scooting beneath. The women on the loveseat abandoned their empty desert plates on the
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coffee table in order to lace fingers. Never would he have suspected the couples if he'd met them in public.

Lost in conversation, the two sets of parents didn't hear Garret whisper to Otis, "See, I told you they'd like you."

Thinking back on his own coming out, Otis chuckled.

"They had no problem with your big announcement at all, did they?"

"Not a bit. My parents met in college, became friends, and when my mother met Helen and started talking children, my father agreed to co-parent. My brother came along five years later." He nodded toward the short, brown-haired woman. "My oldest sister is Helen's daughter from a previous relationship." Gaze falling on "Dad," he further explained, "Dad was married once and has two daughters: my other two sisters. His wife died when they were little."

"I'm sorry," Otis replied as he'd been taught to at any mention of death.

"Thanks, but it happened a long time ago. Anyway, I had the best family anyone could ask for, even if it did confuse the hell out of my grade school friends."

Later, when most of the family had gone to bed, Garret and Otis took their suitcases up the stairs to Garret's old attic room. A poster of
Tennessee Trauma
hung over the bed. The cast smiled at them in all their ageless poster glory. "Hey, that was my favorite show when I was a teenager," Otis exclaimed, not a bit surprised to find out Garret liked it too.

Garret enfolded Otis in an embrace from behind.

They stood there a few minutes, wrapped up in each other before Garret said, "Let's get ready for bed." He turned on a bedside clock radio, swaying to the beat of a slow oldies number. As usual, he took his time undressing Otis, clutching him tightly one minute in a
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sultry slow dance, stepping away to peel off a shirt or unfasten a belt a moment later. As with their strip video game, they each gave up a piece of clothing in turn, until at last they stood fully naked in Garret's room.

Gentle pressure from Garret's hand urged Otis down onto the bed, Garret climbing, cat like, up the patchwork comforter to the strains of an old doo-wop tune. "My guy…" he sang along with the singers, bending down to brush his lips against Otis', nuzzling noses. Trailing soft kisses down Otis' furry chest and belly, he then licked a swath up Otis' cock, tongue swirling around the tip. He glanced up, eyes mischievous and oh so blue, peering up from beneath dark lashes. A playful smile adorned Garret's face as his lips stretched wide to take Otis into the welcoming warmth of his mouth.

When Otis reached for him, Garret shook an

admonishing finger, lips pulling off to press into a serious line. "I used to fantasize about you, even though I didn't know what you looked like back then. Lie back and let me live my fantasy."

Otis rested his head against the pillow. Garret's efforts sent electric jolts reverberating throughout his body, and he bucked his hips, wanting more. Garret pulled off his cock again, murmuring, "Patience," before proceeding to turn the world upside down, finding and exploiting erogenous zones Otis never even realized he had. Who knew the insides of his thighs were so sensitive?

Although Otis had always tried hard to please whoever he slept with, after his third thwarted attempt to participate, he gave himself over to sensation, letting Garret call the shots.

Garret's mouth paid call on places seldom visited, and when Otis hovered on the brink, brought to the edge once more, the
scritch
of cellophane tearing sounded
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like the sweetest of music to his ears. The symphony crescendoed with a pop, then the liquidy squish of lube squirting onto Garret's hand.

Taking the utmost care, Garret caressed his pucker, finger drawing lazy circles around the perimeter until Otis felt ready to scream in frustration. A barest tip of one fingertip eased in and retreated, returning again a little deeper. Garret leaned in for a kiss, tongue plunging into Otis' mouth and finger following suit in Otis' body while his cock slid over Otis' belly.

So desperate he nearly cried when Garret removed the finger and entered him, Otis finally couldn't take any more "lie back and enjoy." He grasped Garret's glutes and pulled him inside -- damn the patience! Rather than argue, Garret's usual, steadfast reserve cracked and shattered, and he plunged into Otis with reckless abandon, stopping instantly the moment the bed let out a squeal of protest that the music couldn't drown.

"Roll onto your side," he whispered, slipping out to spoon against Otis' back, sliding back in a moment later.

Wrapping an arm around Otis' chest, Garret slid his fingers through a mass of tight, darks curls, breath hot and frantic against Otis' neck.

"Oh man, you're making all my teenaged fantasies come true," Garret whispered, the words more moaned than spoken.

Otis slammed back as much as he could, urging Garret on. Many times over the years he had lain in his bed, imaging the feel of a lover inside of him, the urgent push and shove, the indescribable feeling of being filled so completely.

Garret surpassed any fantasy, arms stronger, hands surer, than any dream lover Otis had ever imagined.

Almost as if he had game cheats, he played Otis' body with a skill beyond comprehension. His fingers drifted
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lower, sifting through a mass of belly hair, down, down to grasp Otis' desperately aching cock. Their moans mingled, harmonizing with a steamy love song on the radio.

They rocked, locked together intimately; Otis relished every moment, every breathy moan, sensing it all through a haze of passion. Warm puffs of breath sent chills down his spine, while powerful fingers stroked his cock in time with both "Be My Baby" and Garret's own faltering rhythm. They moaned one last time, muscles seizing as they pulsed in unison: Garret into Otis' body, Otis into Garret's hand.

They shook through the aftershocks, finally stilling, their heavy panting felt more than heard. Once they calmed, Garret kissed the back of Otis' neck, sighing as he slipped free to roll onto his back, dragging Otis' over to rest against his chest.

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A Lie I Can Live With

The next thing Otis knew, an insistent "Er, er, er, er, er!" interrupted dreams of him and Garret, fighting shoulder to shoulder, liberating Akutan once and for all.

He jerked awake, relaxing when arms around his shoulders tightened, pulling him closer. "It's only a rooster," Garret said. "They start crowing around five.

Go back to sleep."

More peaceful than he recalled ever being before, Otis sighed and burrowed into the blankets.

He next woke with sunlight streaming through the windows, and a grinning lover standing over him, holding two mugs, the unmistakable aroma of coffee bringing Otis fully awake. The cast of
Tennessee
Trauma
bore silent witness to the best wake up of Otis'

life.

"Why?" he screwed up the courage to ask, taking the offered mug.

"Why what?" Garret cupped Otis cheek, sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes gazing into Otis'.

"We'd been out a few times before you so much as kissed me. Then all of a sudden you drop your guard and spend the weekend, then want me to meet your folks…

not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"You never asked for more," Garret replied, something unspoken lurking within the words, "which is why I'm still here."

"Wha… What?"

Garret sighed, breaking eye contact. He placed his cup on the bedside table, easing down beside Otis on the bed. Propping himself up on one arm, he gazed down at Otis' chest. "What do you see when you look at me?" he asked.

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Otis tried to find phrases that didn't sound hopelessly shallow. "I see a gorgeous man who works very hard to stay fit."

"What else?"

Otis shook his head, confused. Exactly what did Garret want him to say, and would he leave if Otis didn't get it right? "I see someone who's gone out of his way to share his likes with me, while having no qualms about trying stuff I enjoy, and you're...you're kind. You also like to use your job to do good in the world and give up free time to coach kids."

"Another reason why you're here."

"Huh?"

A slight hint of pink stained the man's cheeks. "No matter where I go, I get hit on: work, the gym, the grocery store, even during Little League games. There I am, minding my own business, and people I don't even know, men and women, approach me, slipping me their phone numbers or making suggestive offers."

Sounded like a good problem to have, until Garret added, "It's downright humiliating, I tell you."

He continued. "All they see is the outside, and all they want is sex, a conquest, to be able to boast to their friends, 'See that hot guy over there? I did him.'" Garret shuddered. "It ruled during my college days until I grew up and wanted someone to see me for me. I want to be appreciated for who I am, not what I look like.

"If you'd only wanted sex, you'd have gotten it, but nothing more." Eyes still downcast, Garret mumbled, "I wouldn't have stuck around." "

All the things Otis thought would scare the man off, didn't?

Apparently no, and Garret wasn't finished. "The night I came to your house and you asked me how my day went…well… That clinched the deal."

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"What do you mean?"

"No one else has ever, ever asked what kind of day I had. You did, and you didn't merely ask, you actually cared to know."

No one had cared? Poor guy. What kind of self-centered "me, me, me" types had he known?

Garret took Otis' hand, placing it on his chest. "What attracts you to a man?" The soft stroke of his thumb brushed Otis' knuckles. Could it really be that Garret had spent his life being judged simply by appearance as Otis had? He recalled Barry's words of wisdom,
"You deserve
someone who loves you for you."
Well, if Otis deserved it, didn't Garret deserve that too?

Otis' mind churned double time. Was this a test? He decided on complete honesty. "I like a nice smile, intelligence, confidence, kindness, thoughtfulness."

"I look for the same things. And I found them in you."

"Huh? I'm not like that."

Garret's brows knitted together. "You mean no one's ever told you what a killer smile you have? And how you always appear to be thinking profound thoughts?"

Killer smile? Profound thinker?
"Actually, no," Otis replied, heaving out a sigh. "And I'm not confident. Not like you."

Garret cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, no? Remind me to take pictures of you playing one of those games at the mall." He laughed. "I was rock-hard and barely heard a word you said. My mind was elsewhere."

"What about this?" Otis questioned, patting his stomach.

"Comfortable to snuggle up to. Besides, I can't boil water," Garret shot back. "I think I mentioned that in my profile."

"I'm a slob."

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"I own thirty-seven ties."

"I'm fat."

"You're cuddly."

"You work out all the time."

"Hyper-active and bad family health history. Have to stay healthy and sane."

That stopped Otis short. "You mean you don't pump iron to look gorgeous?"

"No, I don't. It keeps my cholesterol and blood pressure in check, and keeps me from bouncing off walls with nervous energy."

Still, that didn't quite level the playing field. "You could do so much better, you know," Otis confessed, hating how pitiful he sounded.

Garret flashed a shocked glare. "I what?"

"You heard me. You deserve better than me."

"Now wait one darned minute. Stop putting yourself down like that." Garret held up his hands, ticking off points on his fingertips. "You own your own business.

You're kind and patient, otherwise you'd have given up on teaching me video games. Oh, and you're the best damned cook I've ever met. Everything you cook is incredible."

"Thanks," Otis interjected when Garret stopped for a breath, deciding then and there to master the art of Chinese cooking, Japanese cooking, sushi making, and anything else that'd make Garret happy. Then it clicked.

I will be the man that Garret deserves. Somehow,
someway, I'll make it happen.

"Who were your childhood crushes?" Garret asked abruptly.

"My what?"

"Your childhood crushes. Even before you knew you were gay, what movie stars or singers did you like?"

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Otis rambled through his scrambled memories, naming a few big stars known for their looks, power, and wealth.

Next Garret asked, "You said
Tennessee Trauma
was your favorite show growing up, right?"

"Yeah, it was," Otis replied, wondering what that had to with anything, other than the fact that the actors were all young and drool-worthy, though none held a candle to Garret.