Mike and Danny: Dog Days
by Rock Lane Cooper

Note that these stories, including this one, are not an endorsement of unsafe sex. They take place many years before the appearance of AIDS and before it was standard practice to use condoms to reduce the risk of infection from sexually transmitted diseases. Remember always: that was then, this is now. Sex is precious, and so are life and health.

Chapter 12

Tyrone

The surprise had nearly paralyzed him. Even though he had yearned for days to simply have Rich look at him once in a while with a smile on his face, to touch him now and then, a hand on his shoulder, a pat on the back. But after that first night together in the hammock, these moments had been so rare, he had to remind himself that they had happened at all.

And he had treasured the memory of each one, sitting in the darkness of the early morning hours, Rich asleep there on the porch as Ty kept his nightly vigil. Pale light sometimes reached across them through the window screens, from a half-round of moon in the treetops. Sleeping always fully dressed, weary eyes closed, his mouth almost disappearing in his scruffy mustache, Rich seemed then like a fugitive from the law, a prison escapee.

Now suddenly Rich had not only kissed him—and what an amazing feeling, the wet warmth of a man's lips and tongue against his own—he had reached between his legs to stroke him there and, in the moments before Ty came, bent down to slip his mouth over his hardened cock.

Ty had cried out at the end, his body arching and twisting, the intensity so raw it was almost painful, and when he was done Rich had simply stayed where he was for a while, his face buried in the hollow between Ty's legs. Then he had taken Ty in his arms and held him to his chest, rocking him for a while like someone who'd had his breath knocked out of him—like he'd fallen from the sky.

"That was a load," Rich finally said. "Can't remember the last time I swallowed that much cum."

Ty wasn't sure he understood. "You swallowed it?" he said, unbelieving.

"Yeah, you weren't saving it for anything, were you?"

"No, I wasn't," Ty said, not even sure he was making any sense.

"Good, cause it's sure as hell gone." Rich wiped his knuckles across his mouth. "Down the hatch." And he smiled, putting his hand now on Ty's head to ruffle his hair.

The sun fell warm on his shoulders, but he was trembling. His cock he realized, was still hard, just sagging a bit over his thigh, and he covered himself with his hand. Then he saw Rich's cock, too, rising stiffly from his hairy crotch as he sat cross-legged, his balls spilling between his thighs and onto the grass.

He had never seen another man's erection before, and he glanced away, embarrassed. It was one thing to sneak a look at a penis at rest between a man's legs, but that same penis hard was for no one else to see. Or so he'd always believed.

Still—and he looked again—it was beautiful, and he understood what Ted had wanted to show about Danny in the painting that hung in Mike and Danny's bedroom. This is what it was to be a man, not just strong and good-hearted, like Ty had always wanted to be when he grew up, but something else he couldn't really name—a body with blood and muscle and desires.

Glancing up into Rich's eyes, he saw Rich watching him. "Go ahead, give it a rub," he said.

Ty hesitated, afraid to reveal his own desire, burning now in him fiercely, and then he reached to touch Rich's cock with his fingers.

"Take ahold," Rich said.

So he did, and the sensation in his hand was of warmth and a tough softness. So like the shape and firmness of his own hard cock, it was strange not to be feeling anything. He stroked then, like he would stroke himself, and a grin spread across Rich's face.

"You're startin' something that's gonna want to be finished," Rich said.

Ty stopped for a moment, just gripping Rich's cock, then he felt the length of it contract in his hand, and a clear drop of glistening ooze emerged from the tip. Without thinking, as though it were his own erection, he slicked the wetness with his thumb around the surface and more spilled out.

Rich's eyes closed and he sighed. Then he lay back in the grass, turning his face to the sun. His cock slipped from Ty's grasp and slapped against his belly.

Ty kneeled beside him, stopping to marvel at what he was seeing—the handsome, dark-haired man stretched out there, his legs fallen loosely open, the skin of his naked hips pale under the bright sun, his stomach damp now with perspiration, and the burning eyes in the head of the coiled dragon on his chest looking back at Ty, unblinking.

He reached to touch the inside of Rich's thigh, stroking upward to his balls and then over them gently. With three older brothers, he had seen testicles before, but he'd felt no curiosity about them. These, belonging to a man who made his heart ache sometimes with longing, were another matter.

He bent forward and put his lips to them, the hair on them tickling his nose as he pressed down, opening his mouth to feel them on his tongue. He heard Rich sigh again, and he felt the man's hands come to rest on his head, fingers lightly stroking his cheek and his ear.

Then Ty took Rich's cock and brought it to his lips, discovering what he'd only just begun to imagine with another man—the taste and feel of his hard-on filling his mouth.

Afterwards, Ty wasn't so sure he'd done anything like a good job. He'd wanted Rich to feel all the intensity Rich had been able to make him feel—his cock warmly and lovingly caressed and then himself being transported with a mind-blinding explosion as an orgasm overtook him.

But it seemed not so easy for Rich. He'd finally taken his cock in his hand and jerked himself off, his hips pumping into his fist, face contorting into a grimace as he gasped, sucking in lung-fulls of air to hold his breath a long moment before letting it go again, and his body suddenly stiffening in the last seconds before he came, his cum shooting from him in bursts over his chest and shoulders, the last of it spilling down his fingers and into the dark curls of pubic hair.

He lay then wet in his sweat and milky cum, eyes closed, still breathing heavy.

"I was lousy, wasn't I?" Ty said, sitting there beside him.

Rich opened his eyes and looked at him. "Hell no, you did good," he said, "real good." Then he reached to Ty and pulled him down onto his chest, opening his mouth to give him a kiss, holding him tight and then tighter.

"But I didn't get to swallow," Ty finally said.

Rich laughed, his body shaking under Ty. "There's no rule says you have to."

Ty wasn't thinking about rules, just giving back to Rich what he'd been given.

"Don't worry about it," Rich said. "Maybe it's been too long since I did this with someone I know."

It should be easier with someone you know, Ty thought. He remembered the terror that had filled him as the stranger in the park that night had got into his car and reached between his legs to find him already hard.

For Rich it was apparently the opposite. But he seemed somehow more at peace than he had been before, and his arms stayed around Ty, holding him.

Finally they sat up, skin sticking to skin with drying sweat and cum, and they walked back through the grass and willows to the water to dive in and wash off. There was not the careful distance between them now as they swam, Ty reaching to touch him and Rich touching him back.

"You gettin' hungry?" Rich finally asked. "I could eat a horse."

And they decided to ride to the house to pack up something from Mike's refrigerator and bring it back to the sandpit.

Rich just pulled on his boots and threw a leg over his Harley. "Ever ride a bike naked?" he laughed. He'd done it sometimes for the hell of it, taking back country roads on hot days.

"Air conditioning for your balls," Rich said, grinning. It didn't matter if anybody saw you. You were gone before they realized what they'd seen, and they probably wouldn't believe their eyes anyway.

And Ty climbed on after him, laughing, as the Harley took them back along the cornfields to Mike's place, the barn roof just visible in the distance over the tassels.

The seat was hot under his butt at first, the machine rumbling and vibrating between his legs, but the sensation of his naked thighs pressed around Rich's hips made him want to put his arms around him, too—and he did, hands pressed to his chest, the side of his face against the wet hair at the back of his neck.

Getting back to the place, they swung onto the lane that led around the barn, and coming to the house, they rolled to a stop, as Rich killed the engine. In the first burst of silence, Ty heard Mike's dog barking, and when he looked up over Rich's shoulder, he saw there was another car parked beside his Rambler at the front gate.

"Somebody you know?" Rich said, not getting off the bike.

And then Ty saw the figure of a man inside the car. He'd rolled up his window and was looking out at Rusty, who was outside his door and barking like he'd gladly bite the guy if he could get at him.

The man rolled down the window part way and shouted, "Call off your damn dog!"

"It's my brother," Ty said, his heart suddenly sinking. It was Paulie, the youngest of his brothers, come all the way from home in Iowa—sent, no doubt, by the family—looking for Ty and wanting some explanation for why he'd disappeared and what he was doing here.

And now surely he'd want to know who and what he thought he was, riding naked on a motorcycle with another man.

"Call off your damn dog," he kept saying.

"He's not my dog," Rich said, getting off the bike and walking toward the car. "You're trespassing, and he's just doing his job."

"I didn't come here to deal with you or any dog," Paulie said, sounding more worried than angry. "I come to see him." He pointed to Ty. Rusty, who'd been keeping one eye on Rich, looked sharply at Paulie's outstretched finger. He barked again.

"You're gonna be dealing with both of us if you don't change your attitude," Rich said. "And real quick."

"It's OK," Ty said to Rich. Paulie was harmless and was no worse than a pain in the neck when he wanted to be—picking on Ty from the time they were boys because Ty was always smaller.

Rich waited a moment, letting the situation sink in for Paulie, then patted his thigh with one hand, calling Rusty to him, and Rusty wheeled around to come over to where Rich stood.

Paulie eased out of the car, but he left the door open and didn't take more than a half-step away from it.

"Say what you gotta say," Rich said. He seemed unconcerned that all he was wearing was his boots. Ty still sitting on the bike, had put his hands together to cover his crotch.

"Tyrone, I've come to take you home," Paulie said. It sounded like a little prepared speech, something the family had coached him to say before he left. Ty guessed that coming here under these circumstances was the last thing on earth he'd have been willing to do.

"I have my own car," Ty said. "I don't need a way home."

"Mom and Dad—everybody—they want you back now."

Ty thought for a moment. "I'll come when I'm ready," he said.

"If you're gonna come home, Tyrone, it's gotta be now," Paulie said.

Ty hadn't expected what sounded like a threat, and he wondered at the truth of it. His father might be angry enough to be like this, but he couldn't believe that his brothers really cared that much about him, and his mother had always been there to embrace him with open arms, no matter what trouble he got himself into.

Rich had stood unmoving between them until now, hands on his hips, but he turned at this to look at Ty. The look said nothing. It was just curiosity. What was Ty going to do?

Ty thought of the two of them, only minutes ago, laughing together, each of them having touched each other and become—he didn't know what yet—friends maybe. He knew he'd not had enough of it—whatever it was.

He shook his head, and Rich turned back to face Paulie.

"You got your answer. He said he'll come home when he's ready."

"Dammit," Paulie said. This was not going the way he wanted, and he stepped away from the car toward them. Rusty had not taken his eyes off him. He moved a fraction of an inch toward Paulie, and Paulie stopped in his tracks.

"Look," Paulie said. "We always suspected you were turning out a little queer—godalmighty, what kind of man wants to be a minister anyway? But you gotta come back home where you belong, where we can help you beat this."

So the church, the seminary, who knows who else had already got to his parents with the news. They were all lining up against him, wanting him to give in and do what they wanted.

"It'll be like it never happened. I promise," Paulie said, pleading now.

The words hung in the air, and the heat of the sun bore down, making it hard for Ty to think. He felt himself yielding and looked away from his brother.

"For godsake, Tyrone," Paulie said, impatient now, "go get some clothes on."

Ty felt sorry for Paulie. He'd been the brother closest to him, the one most like him, the one who'd had to work hardest to be the man their father had wanted them all to be. In his heart there had been a kindness that their older brothers had never shown. He'd wept once when a dog they'd owned had been found along the street, run over by a car, and his father had spanked him for being too soft-hearted.

"You're a disappointment to the family—to all of us—you know that, don't you?" Paulie said bitterly, and Ty wondered whose words these were now. Their father's, no doubt, or one of the brothers who took after him. The pain in Paulie's face was the fear of having to go back and admit to them that he'd failed.

"Paulie, I'm not going," Ty said. "I'm staying here."

Paulie made no sign of leaving.

"You heard him," Rich said. "Now get the fuck outta here."

Paulie hung his head, defeated. "Dad's not going to be happy if he has to come after you himself," he said, getting back into the car.

"Tell the old man he'll have more than his son to deal with," Rich growled. "And tell him this dog is trained to kill."

Paulie slammed the door shut and took a last look at Ty, shaking his head. Then he drove off.

Rich watched the car disappear down the road, headed for the highway, before he turned to look at Ty. "OK, that's taken care of. Let's go rustle up some grub," he said.

"Rusty is trained to kill?" Ty said, finally stepping off the bike.

Rich just laughed. "No, but it won't hurt him to think so." Then he put his hand on Ty's shoulder, the look on his face softening. "I want you to know something."

"What?"

"You're not a disappointment to me."

And Ty felt his heart soar.

Inside the house, they'd rummaged in the cupboards and the refrigerator, using half a loaf of bread to make ham-and-cheese sandwiches, and packing them in a cooler with a six-pack of beer and a tray full of ice cubes. They threw a bag of pretzels and two bananas into a paper sack, and a package of Mike's Hostess cupcakes.

"We're gonna have to replace these, you know," Ty said. "They're his favorite."

"Mike'll be in too good a mood to care, when he gets home," Rich said. "He's probably in bed with Danny gettin' laid right now. Amazing what that can do for a man's outlook."

This mention of sex made Ty aware again that he and Rich were both naked, except for the shoes on their feet. For a moment, as they'd stood making sandwiches, Rich had patted him on the butt, like a teammate who'd just seen him throw a touchdown pass or hit a homerun.

The afternoon had been a drifting time of swimming and then lying in the shade, well out of the sun, each of them feeling the beginnings of sunburn. They'd consumed most of the food and all of the beer, Ty drinking two of them and feeling his head spin in a siege of happiness that made the encounter with Paulie seem like something that hadn't really happened.

Rich smoked his Camels—the pack that Ty had bought him—and since neither of them had a watch, there was no sense of time, just lying together in the heat of the day and slipping in and out of lazy naps. It must have been like this for Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, he caught himself thinking.

Looking around, his eye fell on the empty beer cans in the grass and he thought, "Well, not quite." Then he looked at himself and Rich, two naked men together, and thought, "Well, not at all."

There was both joy and sadness in these thoughts, he realized. He'd already been banished from the Garden—all the church people he'd known and his family had seen to that.

But he was not alone either. He reached over to touch Rich's arm, where Rich lay asleep on the blanket they'd brought along and spread out on the grass. And he let his hand rest there on the inside of Rich's wrist as he drifted off to sleep himself.

When he woke again, Rich had got up and was standing behind one of the trees with his back turned, having a piss in the grass. Ty watched him, taking in the sight of him, his shoulders and his long bare legs, spread apart.

Then he turned and saw Ty looking at him.

"What?" he said, grinning, and walked back to the blanket.

"Nothin'. You look good, that's all."

"Same goes for you," Rich said and sank down to his knees beside him. His dick, Ty noticed, had grown heavy and was lifting away from his balls.

Ty felt a wave of warmth pass through him. No one had ever liked him like this before—not another man anyway.

"I've been wondering something," Rich said.

"What's that?"

Rich reached between Ty's legs, his fingers stroking his balls first, then pressing into the space behind them. "I've been thinking about what Mike and Danny are doing, and I want to do that with you."

Ty felt himself wanting to surrender to Rich's touch. But there was a quick trembling in his chest.

"I don't know how," he said. "I've never done that before."

"That's why you have to tell me yes or no."

Ty looked into Rich's eyes, almost unable to speak, his heart beginning to race. He thought for a long moment before he realized he already knew what he was going to say.

"Yes," he said. "I want it, too."

It was almost midnight when Ty heard Mike's truck pull up outside the house. The headlights flashed through the kitchen windows and down the hall to the back bedroom where he and Rich lay together, still awake. And then they switched off, and all was darkness again.

The night was so quiet, they could hear him say something to Rusty as he got out of the truck, then come through the front gate and into the house, turning on the kitchen light. For a while, there was the sound of his boots on the linoleum floor, as he walked back and forth.

"If he's looking for those cupcakes," Ty whispered, "we're in trouble."

Rich laughed softly. "Anybody ever call you a worry wart?"

"All the time."

It was warm in the room, even with all the windows open, but he had tucked himself under Rich's arm, his hand lying flat on Rich's chest, touching with his fingers the hard nub of a nipple.

"Does that dragon you got there ever sleep?" he'd asked that day.

"Yeah, but you can't really tell. He never closes his eyes."

Ty couldn't remember ever feeling so content. When Rich had finally entered him all the way, he'd felt torn free from fears and cares that had followed him what seemed like forever. And the glow of being wanted like this—swept up with someone he'd come to love in the hot, burning intensity of sex—had kept him floating the rest of the day and evening like someone adrift on a slow-moving river.

Mike had his boots off now as he went to his bedroom to turn on his air conditioner. Then they heard him hesitate in the hall and come to their door and stop there in the darkness.

Ty felt Rich's body pull away from him, and the springs under them creaked as he reached for the lamp beside the bed. When it came on, there was Mike in the doorway, in his socks, his shirt already unbuttoned and pulled out of his jeans.

Looking at the two of them, lying there naked together, he just grinned.

"Well, well, well," he said.

"Well's a hole in the ground, Mike," Rich said. "Was your day as good as ours was?"

Mike just grinned again. "Well, well, well."

Continued . . .