This story contains portrayals of homosexual actions and lifestyles. There may be references to, or explicit descriptions of, sex between consenting adults.
If homosexuality, sexually explicit language, or swearing offends you, or if reading material that contains these topics violates any law or personal or religious beliefs, or if you under 18 years of age, please leave now, without proceeding further.
This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only.
Roy roynm@mac.com
Phalen, chapter 13
"Curt is trouble." . . . Brad stood alone on the balcony in front of his apartment looking out to the lights of the city, the slight breeze ruffling his hair. In the distance the low rumble of thunder and a strobe-like flash of lightning presaged an unusual spring thunderstorm. Troubled weather to match his troubled mind. He never forgot the words his mother uttered the night he introduced his friend to her and his father. He knew in his heart her opinion of Curt was wrong, and as the years passed he became even more convinced. Curt did nothing to justify his mother's opinion, or her warning to, "keep your eyes open." 'Sure,' Brad told himself from time to time. 'Curt wasn't perfect, but who was?'
On the surface, their relationship had not changed much during the four years they had been in college. They still had fun times together, whether those times were in bed, going to a baseball game or just sitting together Curt's arm around his shoulder. Brad shifted his position at the balcony's railing. 'It's the stuff that's not on the surface that's causing me problems,' he thought, absently knuckling his eyes. 'How can I continue to live with a man I no longer trust? How can I live with *myself?' Brad took a ragged breath. 'The problem is, I love Curt. . . . I love his smile, his twinkling eyes . . . his laugh. I love the way I feel when he holds me and the feel of his lips each time we kiss.' He paused a moment struck by a thought. 'I've always told myself I love him.' Brad stared into the distance. 'I wonder if I might only be in love with the thought of loving him.' He shook his head and wiped a hand across his eyes, telling himself he would not cry. Not again. 'I'm not sure I really know what love is anymore.' He grimaced. 'Maybe I never knew, but I do know what I like.' He thought a moment. 'I also know what I don't like.'
'On the other hand, Curt is everything in a man I could want.' He took another ragged breath, bowing his head and closing his eyes for a moment, his thoughts in turmoil. Brad corrected himself. 'At one time Curt was everything I could want. Lately, with his changed behavior . . . I don't know. Me being an architecture student and away from home so often can't have been easy for him.' He chewed his lower lip. 'Hell it hasn't been easy on me, spending so many nights at the architecture building on campus, working on one project after another, when I wanted to be with him. Then, when I finally was able to come home I would be so exhausted I could barely move.' Brad shook his head massaging the back of his neck. He'd been down this road before. The arguments were tired, the excuses old. 'I can't continue to make excuses for Curt's behavior,' he told himself with renewed intensity. If I do it's like saying the way he's acting and the things he's doing are okay with me. . . . They're not. I have to remember that.'
Another rumble of thunder, this time closer, was ignored. Brad frowned, his head still bowed. 'I've made excuses for Curt for years, taking responsibility in my own mind for things he's done that bothered me. I have to stop doing that.' Twice during the last month Brad and his design team were too exhausted to be productive and had decided to go home for the night. He remembered rushing home looking forward to sleeping in Curt's arms. He recalled how he had run up the stairs, glad to be able to spend an evening with the man he loved . . . only to find an empty apartment.
Curt hadn't come home either of those nights. He hadn't called or left a message. . . . Nothing. Brad had sat in bed leaning back against the headboard, his arms wrapped around both legs drawn up under his resting chin. He had been unable to sleep, wondering where Curt was, imagining all sorts of terrible things which could have happened to him. He reached for the phone a couple times, but never made the call.
His melancholy mood continued as he stood on the balcony, leaning on the railing while the breeze ruffled his hair. He knew he should have called Curt on his cell to see if he was alright, but he didn't want to once again be accused of being the "mother hen," Curt often referred to him as being.
He admitted it. He did worry about the people he loved. He gripped the railing harder, reminding himself that the people he loved didn't lie, like Curt had when he asked him if he had gotten a lot of studying done for final exams the previous evening, a time when Brad knew Curt wasn't at home.
Curt had sighed, scooting his empty dinner plate to the side. He leaned back in his chair. "Nah, I study too much as it is. I just hung out and watched TV, then went to bed early. I need to learn to kick back and relax." Brad remembered how Curt had smiled. He always loved Curt's smile. Not too long ago one of his smiles would make Brad weak in the knees. "It would have been great if you had been here," Curt continued, reaching for Brad's hand across the tabletop. "We could have had some fun." Curt wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Brad remembered feeling stunned. The smile wasn't genuine. The words were meaningless. 'He just lied to me!' he thought, but before he could think of something to say or a question to ask Curt had left the table and had gone into the living room to watch television. Brad was ignored as he continued to sit at the table, wondering when Curt started spending nights away from home.
That same night as he was doing the laundry, he found someone else's underwear mixed in with Curt's clothing. His world seemed to be coming apart.
Brad leaned forward, his forearms on the balcony railing, taking a deep breath then letting it out in a whoosh. Since that night his life had been a mess. He remembered leaning back against the apartment's washing machine still holding the red underwear. 'Curt's not only lying to me, he's fooling around with someone else.' He felt a flash of anger, then a moment of jealousy and finally an overwhelming sadness. The washing machine continued to rumble and shiver while it did its job. He leaned against the vibrating machine in a stupor. 'Doesn't he love me anymore? . . . What's wrong with me? . . . What have I done?'
He closed his eyes, remembering how he had abruptly dropped the red underwear, stricken with another thought. 'Is Curt using protection when he has sex with someone else?' He felt sick with fear, the washing machine's myriad sounds forgotten. 'I know how much he hates condoms. I have to tell him to wear a condom every time we have sex.'
"Why wear a condom?" Curt would whine. "We're monogamous . . . aren't we?" Brad had always resented the slight pause before Curt would say, "Aren't we?" Brad considered relenting, dispensing with the condom, but never had. "Oh Curt," Brad said aloud to the empty laundry room. "Why are you doing this?"
"This sexy man is my loverrrr," Phalen sang at the top of his lungs, his clear tenor voice drawing stares from people in nearby cars. He had partially reclined the passenger seat while Jeff drove home after they left Brad off at his apartment. "He's sexy as hell, can't you seeee?" Phalen continued, sticking one leg out the open passenger window and if anything, singing louder. "He's got a great smile and a beautiful dick, and a butt that he's saving for meeee!"
Phalen finished the song with a flourish, spreading his arms and laughing. A grumble of thunder greeted the finish of the song.
Jeff grinned but felt an uncontrollable wave of anxiety. 'Is Phalen hinting he wants to fuck me?' A nebulous fear settled over him like a blanket. 'I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that. Hell, I'm proud of myself because I can finger Phalen's butt without trembling and breaking out in a cold sweat . . . But to get fucked?' Jeff absently brought the car to a halt at a stoplight. 'Hell, I'm not sure I'll even be able to fuck him!' Jeff often complained about the slow progress of his talks with his counselor, but privately he was pleased he had been able to make as much progress as he had. Before meeting Phalen, he despaired of ever having a normal life. Now, with the help of Phalen and his friends, he at least had the hope he wouldn't spend the rest of his life in fear. From time to time though, the old anxieties surrounding the powerlessness he felt during his childhood abuse returned, blindsiding him at the most unexpected moments. Those times were becoming fewer and farther between. After each one of the occurrences, he wondered if he would ever be able to face his fears.
Phalen continued to hum to himself. "Hey, I got another one. Wanna hear?"
"Do I have a choice?" Jeff smiled enjoying Phalen's exuberance.
"Nope." Phalen giggled. "You're a captive audience, the best kind."
"Okay, shoot."
"Jeff, what are you thinking? I might get the car all sticky if I shoot now. Let me sing my song first. Phalen reached out to caress Jeff's leg, lightly running his fingers over the skin before returning to his thought. We'll play when we get home. If you didn't like the first song, maybe you'll like this one." He cleared his throat, preparing to belt out another song, Phalen-style.
"I've got a great father named Larrrrrrry, who wants to meet a new friend. Not too short, or too tall, nor too fat or too thin, but someone who's definitely hairrrrry."
He turned to get Jeff's opinion. "What about that one?" Jeff was silent.
"It's not my singing is it?" Phalen asked, bringing his leg inside the car and sitting up. "You saw your counselor today. Is everything going okay? You're worried about something."
Jeff nodded, the streetlights casting moving shadows over his face. "It's not the counselor, though I never feel as if I'm making enough progress . . . That's not what's bothering me. I've got a song for you, but I won't sing it," he added quickly, since he knew Phalen hated his attempts at singing. Phalen nodded, waiting for him to begin.
"We have a new friend name of Brad," Jeff said. "Who builds pretty buildings and draws. He laughs a great deal, to hide a sad heart, not admitting his lover is bad."
The car was quiet. "You think?" Phalen asked.
Jeff nodded, then shrugged. "I don't know for sure. I've never even met him. . . . . I know Brad's been troubled by something having to do with Curt. Until recently, his eyes would shine every time he was mentioned. Now Brad tries to change the subject or starts chewing his lip." Jeff paused at a stop sign. "I hope I'm wrong. I hate to see someone in pain. Besides, Brad stood by me before I began seeing a counselor about my abuse. I want to be there for him." Jeff drove on in silence but reached out to squeeze Phalen's hand, taking comfort in the warmth.
"Me too," Phalen added, absently leaning closer and resting a hand on Jeff's leg. They drove on in silence; each lost in their thoughts, then pulled into their garage.
As they were crossing the courtyard of their house, walking from the garage to the front door, Phalen asked, "Jeff, have I told you how much I love you lately?" Jeff smiled as the front door swung open. He motioned Phalen to pass.
"Not since this morning. I think we both said something about love, if I recall correctly."
Phalen grinned as he waited for Jeff to lock the door. "And about how much I love the feel of your naked body laying on top of mine," Phalen continued. Jeff smiled wide as he put an arm around Phalen's shoulders while they walked into the bathroom and began to strip, preparing to take a steam bath and shower before going to bed. Phalen reached into the shower pressing the button to activate the steam generator, then rejoined Jeff who was already standing naked, folding his shorts with a distant smile on his face.
Phalen stood for a moment, enjoying the sight of Jeff's lightly tanned body and the muscles moving near the surface. He loved the way Jeff would shift his weight to one leg, the muscles of his butt flexing with the motion. Phalen squeezed his penis through his shorts, enjoying how it quickly responded to his touch, then began to strip out of his shirt, speaking all the while. "Not to mention the way you smell, and the taste and feel of your sperm as it coats my tongue." He walked up to Jeff who was still facing the mirror. Phalen wrapped him in his arms and rested his head on Jeff's shoulder. "I especially love the taste of your sperm," Phalen murmured in Jeff's ear. "You think you could produce a batch for me, big man?" Phalen kissed Jeff's neck, wrapping both arms around Jeff and pulling him close.
"By any chance are you horny?" Jeff chuckled, pressing back against Phalen, enjoying the feeling of Phalen's erect cock and his strong arms holding him tight. "I thought we were talking about Brad." Jeff could feel his own penis respond to Phalen's closeness, and the slight humping motions he was making.
"We were, but Brad can handle his own problems tonight." Phalen stopped the humping motions abruptly, fearful of Jeff's reaction to his motions. Jeff continued to grin.
'Damn, he's making great strides at the doctor,' Phalen thought as he reached out to take Jeff's hand. "Brad'll get things straightened out. Besides, Brad's not here right now and I'm horny, and you're damn sexy." Phalen ran his hands over the hair on Jeff's chest, then over his stomach, finally grasping his thickening penis before taking his hand once again and leading him to the steam filled shower.
"I've had plenty of experience being unhappy," Jeff muttered following Phalen across the room, admiring the flex of each butt cheek as he walked. "I'm happy now though," he murmured, taking Phalen into his arms as they stepped into the shower and closed the glass door. Steam engulfed them fogging the window. "Way happy." Phalen grinned, nudging Jeff for using one of his favorite sayings.
Phalen sat on the tile bench, bending his knees, slid forward and bringing both feet up to rest on the front edge of the bench. "See anything you like, big man?" he asked, pointing his erect penis directly at Jeff who nodded focusing on Phalen's cock. Jeff teased Phalen by lightly running a finger over the underside of the length of Phalen's cock, before leaning forward and giving him a lingering kiss on the mouth. The shower enclosure continued to fill with steam as Jeff knelt on the floor facing Phalen. He licked his lips, gently brushing his fingers along Phalen's spread thighs, moving toward the pulsing cock in front of him, already drooling precum in a thick strand that reached for the floor. Jeff captured the string of clear fluid on a single finger, bringing it to his mouth to lick clean. Phalen watched Jeff's actions, his mouth parted, each breath coming faster as he waited, wondering what Jeff would do next.
Jeff returned his hand to cup Phalen's testicles, hanging low due to the heat in the shower. With one hand he rolled them from side to side, while he ran the thumb of his other hand over Phalen's hairless perineum, then gently over the pucker of his anus. Phalen's low moans became a loud groan when Jeff paused to circle the hole with his finger. Jeff smiled, his eyes sparkling as he watched Phalen squirm and gasp with the prolonged touch. "Jeffff," Phalen groaned, pleading for a fast release. The plea was ignored.
Jeff scooted forward on his knees until his stomach was resting against Phalen's erect penis, allowing him to reach out to gently rub each of Phalen's nipples between a thumb and forefinger. Phalen hissed, arching his back, trying to rub his cock against Jeff. "Please," Phalen groaned. Another gentle pinch on each nipple, another moan. Still the pleas were ignored.
Jeff slowly bent forward and ran his tongue over Phalen's balls, then up the underside of his penis, not quite taking the head into his mouth. Phalen's groans became even more insistent when Jeff's finger once again circled Phalen's hole. Phalen was breathing rapidly, almost gasping for breath, his precum running down his penis then over his balls. Jeff grinned, his mouth poised over Phalen's pulsing cock, then slowly pressed his finger into Phalen's hole, causing another hiss of pleasure.
Each time Jeff entered Phalen this way he marveled at the heat surrounding his finger, and the way the muscles of Phalen's anus grabbed at his finger, seeming to urge him deeper. When Jeff rubbed across the lump of Phalen's prostate, Phalen groaned loudly, arching his back in pleasure, while at the same moment Jeff buried the hard dick deep in his throat.
Phalen gave a shuddering moan, then shivered with pleasure, continuing to groan and thrust his hips to meet Jeff's movements, breathing faster as his orgasm quickly approached.
"Damn Jeff, you're . . . . getting better with your . . . . finger every day," he said, breathlessly. "I'm 'bout there . . . . big man," he muttered, struggling to speak. "Don't . . . . don't . . . swallow," he said, just before the first blast erupted into Jeff's mouth, accompanied by moans of pleasure. Phalen's anus tightened around Jeff's finger with each pulse of the cock in his mouth. Jeff remained kneeling, continuing to milk Phalen's cock with his mouth, at the same time slowly withdrawing his finger. Phalen sighed.
"Shiiiit big man, you're good," Phalen grinned, helping Jeff to stand then holding out his hand for Jeff to drool out the load from his mouth. "I want to masturbate you using my jiz as a lube," he said, pulling Jeff closer, Jeff's thick penis level with his face. He began slowly massaging Jeff with one hand, spreading the thick sperm over the length of the penis, while he caressed the low hanging testicles with the other. Jeff took a deep breath, leaning forward to support himself with outstretched arms on the tile wall behind Phalen. After only a few slow strokes Jeff gasped. The head of his cock swelled, the urethra opening wide, a sight Phalen always enjoyed. Jeff supported himself by grasping Phalen's shoulders, thrusting his hips forward. His fingers tightened. His body jerked once, twice . . . a third time, as he shot his load in a series of strong jets onto Phalen's chin and chest. Phalen crooned his pleasure, continuing to slowly massage Jeff's cock while his other hand kneaded one of Jeff's butt cheeks, pausing momentarily on Jeff's hole. There was no reaction other than Jeff's continued heavy breathing.
Jeff slowly came down from his orgasm, twitching from sensory overload, releasing Phalen's shoulders and patting them once, as if in apology for gripping so hard, or possibly silently urging Phalen to stop. Phalen finally relented and released Jeff's cock, looking down to scoop up Jeff's load off of his chest with his hand. He looked up at Jeff with a mischievous smile, then licked once across the palm of his hand, taking up some of Jeff's load before extending his hand to Jeff. "Wanna taste?" he asked. Phalen licked his lips trying to capture a thick strand of sperm which trailed from his mouth to his chin. Jeff took Phalen's hand and licked first across the palm of before moving on to make love to each of Phalen's fingers in turn.
Jeff's cock pulsed in front of Phalen's face, continuing to demand attention, seeming to slightly stiffen as Jeff licked his own sperm off of Phalen's fingers. Phalen leaned forward and licked across the tip of the penis once, then used his free hand to milk some more sperm. He watched as a large pearly bead of cum formed at the end of the flared head, waiting to be licked off. He extended his tongue, lapping up the afterglow of Jeff's orgasm. Phalen looked up and smiled as Jeff removed the last of Phalen's fingers from his mouth.
Jeff collapsed onto the bench, licking his lips while Phalen rested his head on Jeff's shoulder. The steam continued to fill the room as they held each other. "Yep, I'm definitely a happy man." Jeff murmured. "For sure," he said, teasing Phalen by using one of his favorite phrases." Phalen grinned and closed his eyes, Jeff's arm around his shoulder pulling him close.
Brad grinned, watching Curt finish rummaging through the stuff in the trunk of his car. It seemed like whatever was so important had finally been located because Curt began haphazardly stuffing everything back into the trunk then slammed it shut.
'Neatness was never one of Curt's virtues,' Brad mused, and then asked himself what Curt's virtues were. 'What has kept us together for four years,' he wondered, idly staring out over the city watching an airplane descend into Sky Harbor airport. He could hear Curt's footsteps first across the silent parking lot, and then on the metal stair treads leading to their floor.
'I wonder what attracted me to Curt back in high school.' Once again he ran his fingers through his hair thinking it strange that after four years he was evaluating his relationship like this, standing out on the apartment balcony in the dark. 'I couldn't have been attracted to his housekeeping skills, or his desire to dominate. It must have been the handsome face . . . . and the big dick.'
He grinned, thinking back to the first time he had sex with Curt. Until then, he had only been intimate with his brothers. 'My brothers certainly didn't prepare me for Curt,' he thought. 'My brothers and I are so much alike, I always felt like I was having sex with myself.' He thought a moment longer. 'Let's face it. I was swept away by Curt's looks, and the excitement of being sexual with someone new.' He watched another plane approach the airport before once again bowing his head, the distant drone of the plane's engines forgotten. 'Curt's always been enough for me. I guess he needs something I'm not able to provide. Otherwise, why is he playing around?'
Brad thought back to the times he and his brothers lay in each other's arms. 'When we were together, I knew what love was.' Brad chewed on his lip. 'I've always believed what I feel for Curt is like what I feel for my brothers.' The footsteps were approaching in the dark. 'Is it possible I was only excited by someone new and have become complacent, content to let things go on as they have. . . . . Could I have deluded myself for all these years? Could Mom have been right? . . . . I wonder if that's what she's means when she's asked me when I was going to wake up.'
He turned his head to see Curt reach the top of the stairs and pause for a moment to adjust his gym and laptop bags in the puddle of light cast by a nearby streetlight. Curt looked up, saw him at the railing and smiled. Brad was momentarily taken back to when they first met. Curt had literally swept him off his feet.
They were paired to wrestle each other in gym class one day. Brad had admired Curt from across the room many times, but they had ever spoken. Curt had grinned as he swaggered toward Brad across the mat. The room had gotten quiet. Everyone wanted to see Curt in action. He was undefeated so far, bested only by the school's wrestling coach. 'He has every reason to act like he does,' Brad remembered thinking at the time. 'He was one of the most popular guys at school, his arm was always around some girl's waist or draped across a guy's shoulder'. They shook hands and took their positions. The coach blew on a whistle and they began grappling for dominance. The match lasted longer than he expected. Curt was stronger and more aggressive but it seemed neither of them wanted the competition to end. Both were oblivious to their classmates and coaches looking on as they writhed on the floor, trying to force the other's shoulders to the mat. Finally one of the coaches called the match a draw, joking that they were spending more time feeling each other up than trying to win. The class had laughed.
Brad blushed at the remark. Curt smiled a cocky grin reaching out to shake Brad's hand, then drawing him into a brief hug. The instant they were close, Curt had murmured, "wanna fuck?" He kept an arm around Brad's shoulders as they walked back to join their classmates, then before releasing him had inquired again, "Well?"
Brad mumbled something. He couldn't remember what, though Curt seemed pleased. He released Brad, slapping him on the shoulder, and walked away. Brad stood unmoving, trying to sort out what the last few minutes had meant. He was surprised when Curt had turned to look over his shoulder before joining the other members of his class. One of Brad's friends had asked him, "What was that all about?" He remembered thinking for a moment before shaking his head.
"I truly don't know, but I think something important just happened." He remained in something of a daze throughout the rest of class, only brought back to reality whenever the coach roared his name, "Kelly!" One time he looked up to find Curt watching him. When their eyes met Curt winked. Brad blushed, feeling his cheeks burn and his cock begin to stiffen. Curt seemed to sense his unease. As Brad's cheeks burned, Curt's smile broadened.
'That smile has always been my undoing,' Brad thought, watching Curt approach, still juggling his belongings and smiling. Without thinking he smiled back, the time of introspection forgotten for the moment. He opened his arms to Curt welcoming the familiar contact, the feeling of being held close, and the warmth as they pressed against each other. He welcomed both Curt's tongue and the feel of his erection through his baggy shorts.
'This is all so familiar, so comforting,' Brad thought in a flash as Curt pulled him even closer, making low moaning sounds of pleasure. 'Yet, this isn't the same person I fell in love with in high school.' Curt pulled away from Brad's mouth and tongue and began gently caressing his neck with slow kisses, moaning all the while. 'I love those sounds. I've always thought they meant he wanted me.' Brad couldn't help himself. His body told him, he wanted Curt.
"Umm, that's nice," Curt murmured into Brad's ear. "We never kiss enough." He drew Brad back into a tight embrace. "I've always loved how you kiss." Curt ran his fingers through Brad's hair, during another lingering kiss. "Can you tell?" He pressed Brad's hand against his growing mound. "Feel that?" he asked, grinning when Brad grasped his penis through the shorts. "I'm ready to stick it someplace hot and hairy, and you have just the spot I was thinking of." Curt reached out to grasp Brad's rigid cock through his shorts. He squeezed, hard. Brad winced but tried to hide his reaction. 'Why does he feel it's necessary to touch me like that?' Brad wondered, moving away before Curt could hurt him again. He had always disliked Curt's need to inflict brief instances of pain. Eventually he would complain and Curt would instantly back down, but in a few moments the pain would return. 'Is it possible he sought out someone else because I complain about the pain?'
Curt pulled Brad back into an embrace, running his hands down Brad's back, cupping each buttock and grinding his cock against Brad's. 'I wonder if he's told anyone else he loves them?' Brad could feel his erection begin to soften. So could Curt. He pulled back with a questioning look on his face.
"You okay?"
Brad gave a wry shrug, attempting to smile. Curt had always sought to dominate the relationship. Brad didn't mind. Like he told Jeff, he didn't think of himself as much of a top. He liked Curt's strength. But strength was not the same as pain. 'I wonder if the person he's seeing likes pain and that's why it's been getting worse?' Brad thought in a flash, bending down to pick up his bag as well as Curt's to hide his confusion. Since they met Brad always told himself the occasional pain wasn't really bad enough to complain about, that it was just the way Curt was. He had convinced himself Curt could no more stop the need to inflict moments of pain than he could stop snoring. If one had asked, Brad would have said he was bothered more by the snoring. The pain only lasted for brief moments while they were having sex. The snoring went on all night. Since Curt hadn't come home those two nights, the pain was always there. It wasn't necessarily physical . . . but it was pain, nonetheless.
'My brothers and I never had to hurt each other when we were having sex,' Brad thought, turning toward their apartment, fishing for his key. Curt followed, reaching forward to squeeze Brad's butt before putting his arm around Brad's shoulders, pulling him close as they walked. 'My brothers and I always got off on how much pleasure we could give each other. Pain was never part of our sex play.' For Curt it seems to be getting more important. It's gone beyond wanting to demonstrate to me who's in charge. It's become something else entirely.
There were times Brad regretted never having had any sex partners other than his brothers and Curt. He often grinned when he thought of his sexual past. 'Five sex partners in twenty-three years,' he would say to himself. Then, as if it were a punch line for a joke, he would add, 'and four of them were my brothers!' Since meeting Curt, he never wanted anyone else sexually, not even his brothers.
Brad fumbled with the key, finally opening the door to the apartment. "Got to shower," Curt said, pushing past Brad who was standing just inside the doorway holding his and Curt's bags. Curt immediately began dropping clothes on the floor, stripping while he walked to the bathroom. Brad sighed. 'Some things never change around here.' He set down their belongings in the bedroom before going back to the living room to pick up the discarded clothing in what had become a habit.
While Curt sang in the shower Brad stripped before walking into the bathroom, watching his lover through the steamy shower door. 'It's funny,' Brad thought, leaning back against the counter. 'He usually asks me to join him. I love being in the shower together.' Brad bowed his head. 'He probably doesn't want to take a long time like we usually do. Besides, I can't find something sinister in everything he does. It's probably good I'm not in there. He would see that I'm troubled about something. If he asked what the problem is, I'm not sure what I would say to him.' Brad looked back at the shower. 'Hell, I'm not sure what I really feel yet. My feelings change from one minute to the next.'
'Nice looking man, Curt,' Brad mused, continuing to lean against the counter crossing his legs at the ankles. 'Not in the same league as Phalen or Jeff, but exactly what I want.' He paused a moment, his thoughts interrupted by another clap of thunder. The storm was almost upon them. 'It will be nice to hear the sound of the rain,' he thought in the moment before another clap of thunder. He watched the water splash off of Curt's face, then flow over his flat stomach and finally over his muscular legs. 'Curt of the perpetually rosy cheeks, and five o'clock shadow, and his wonderful dark hair and brown eyes. Even when he's singing he's smiling,' Brad mused, bending over to pick up Curt's yellow cap. 'This is the man I love.' Brad continued to watch as Curt turned his back, shampooing his hair. 'Curt of the killer butt, and a cock that can plumb the depths of my ass like none of my brothers ever did.' Brad began toying with his hardening cock, thinking back to the times Curt would slowly slide his cock into his butt. 'When we first met he made sure he wasn't hurting me. We used to kiss, and our lovemaking was slow and satisfying. . . . And we would cuddle afterward.' Brad massaged his rigid cock, remembering how things once were. Now sex with Curt is more like rape. I wonder if he's satisfied when we're done. Curt shut off the water, opened the shower door and reached for a towel.
"Looking good, Mr. B.," Curt said, glancing up before briskly toweling himself dry.
Brad inwardly cringed. 'I don't know what I have to do to break him of the Mr. B. habit.'
"Name's Brad, Mr.," he said teasingly.
"You got it, Bradley. Let's fuck." Curt stepped over to Brad and stood close, pressing Brad's back to the bathroom wall, while forcing his tongue into Brad's mouth, taking pleasure in his ability to surprise his lover by his actions. Brad was slow to respond, as always, 'Once he gets going, he's a nice fuck,' Curt thought, gripping both of Brad's ass cheeks. Brad groaned.
'Where is the romance?' Brad thought, wincing as Curt once again squeezed hard. 'I'm his. He doesn't have to try and dominate me every time.' Brad shuddered when Curt began teasing a nipple with his tongue. He massaged Brad's tight balls, then reached further between Brad's legs and began to rub his finger over Brad's hole, a promise of things to come.
"C'mon, let's go to the bedroom," Brad said, trying to move. Curt held him in place with one hand as he squatted, burying Brad's penis in his throat, massaging it with his throat muscles, at the same time his nose was pressed against Brad's thick pubes.
Brad groaned loudly, grasping Curt's head, feeling the still-wet hair. He looked down at the man squatting in front of him, admiring his dark hair, and broad shoulders. He could see Curt's wide cock, standing out straight between his legs.
'Another instrument of ecstasy . . . . and torture,' Brad thought, entranced by the sight.
"Let's go to the bedroom. It's more comfortable." Brad once again tried to move away.
Curt abruptly stood, his cheeks flushed, his breathing rapid. "No . . . we're staying here." He pushed Brad against the wall and once again forced his mouth against Brad's
"Curt . . . " Brad began. Before he could finish his sentence, Curt had both of Brad's upper arms in a vise grip, roughly pinning him to the wall. Brad was startled, both by the intensity of the aggression and the cold wall against his back. Curt leaned forward looking as if here going to kiss Brad once again but stopped only inches from his face. "Curt?"
"I said NO, he hissed, inches from Brad's face. Brad looked down at Curt's fingers gripping his upper arms, before looking up to meet Curt's flashing brown eyes. They held each other's gaze, neither blinking. The room was quiet except for the rain pelting down on the roof.
"Curt," Brad spoke slowly, without any sign he was cowed by the behavior. "Let . . . me . . . go." Curt continued to press him to the wall, his breathing rapid. "Curt," Brad repeated. "Take your hands . . . off of me." It was an order, spoken in a voice Brad had never before used. Brad stood perfectly still, waiting to be released, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of him.
Curt blinked once, and then bowed his head breaking eye contact. He slowly released his grip on Brad's arms and backed up a step, flexing his fingers, his head still bowed. "Bradley?" his voice was tentative, almost pleading.
"My name is Brad, Curt, not Bradley or Mr. B." Brad spoke slowly, enunciating each word slowly. Please call me by my name. If you used those names as some sort of endearment, I might not mind. That's not how you use them. You purposely do not use my name. From now on," Brad paused a moment. "From now on, you will." Brad's voice remained calm though he was trembling on the inside. He knew he couldn't let Curt see any reaction to his most recent behavior. "You are going to listen to me Curt, because I will not say this again." He paused a moment. "You . . . will . . . never . . . touch . . . me . . . like . . . that . . . again. Is that understood?"
Curt nodded silently, his eyes downcast.
"Good." Brad moved away from the bathroom wall, avoiding contact with the man who stood with slumped shoulders and bowed head. He left the room accompanied by a clap of thunder. Brad walked down the hallway in silence. He was surprised at how calm he felt as he turned the bedroom light off and climbed into bed. As he rested his head on the pillow and drew the blanked up to his shoulders, he looked up. Curt was standing in the doorway, a silhouette. Neither man spoke until finally Curt asked, "may I join you?"
"Of course, Curt." Brad's voice held no condemnation of Curt's recent behavior. "I always enjoy being in bed with you." The hallway light was extinguished with a click of a switch, casting the bedroom into total darkness. A flash of lightning through the large window showed Curt slowly walking across the room. He climbed into bed and moved close, his chest touching Brad's back. He kissed Brad gently on the shoulder, and murmured, "I love you," then snuggled closer. Brad waited a moment before replying, trying to analyze his feelings.
"And I feel the same for you." He pushed back against Curt, welcoming the warmth and the feel of Curt holding him close. He lay quietly, unable to sleep as Curt's breathing slowed into an even rhythm, accompanied by the sound of rain. 'I do love you, Curt, but how can I live in fear? When you don't come home I'm afraid something's happened to you. When you do come home, I'm afraid for both of us because of what I believe you've been doing, and now I'm afraid it's only a matter of time before you become violent.' A rumble of thunder interrupted his thoughts. 'I can't live in constant fear, Curt . . . no matter how much I love you. . . . I can't do it.'
~ To be continued ~
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on this story. I've been overwhelmed at the response to 'Phalen,' and love to hear from each of you.
If you would like me to send you a pic of the guys that inspired the main characters in this story, email me.
Mina rakastan sinua (I love you) Mita (what) Anteeksi (I'm sorry)
A special thanks to Larry S. for his assistance with the Finnish language, and for being a good friend. Thanks also to Evan Bradley for his continuing encouragement, and for helping me make 'Phalen' a better story, and lastly to Gwynne Yee, for her daily doses of humor, and insight into the behavior of the characters.
A number of readers have written asking for the correct pronunciation of the character's names. They are:
Phalen (FAY-lin) Kerin (KEAR-in) Thian (THE as in Theater (THE-in)
Thanks for reading.
Roy roynm@mac.com