Moving On - Chapter 34

This story includes explicit depictions of sexual acts between consenting adult males. If you are underage or it is illegal to view this for any reason, consider yourself warned. If you find this material offensive, I have to wonder why you came here in the first place.

This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence. As author, I retain all rights to this story, and it cannot be reproduced or published without explicit consent from me. This work is copyright © Fitz, 2011 – 2013.

I love to hear any feedback you have, be it positive or negative. Send me an email with any comments or questions at movingonstory@gmail.com.

I would like to thank Jay Gordon at jaygordonstories.com, for much of the inspiration to write this, in addition to the many amazing stories that I've read by a wide number of authors. Jay's stories may have given me the inspiration, but all the excellent writers have created a desire in me to write. Thank you all.

My wonderful husband gets a shout out for being so supportive and allowing me to bounce ideas off of him. I would also like to thank my editor, David. All errors that remain are mine, and mine alone.

So sorry for the mix up!! Thanks to all of you who pointed out my error. I was confused, since I sent 'chapter 34.html' to Nifty, and my 'Chapter 34' is as follows. It wasn't until I opened the file I sent him that I realized I had forgot to save after renaming 33 to use as a template!!

~Fitz

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE VERDICT

The wait for the judge's return seemed indefinite, but finally the bailiff announced the return of Judge Gould. I felt like a prisoner awaiting his execution as she took her seat. In a calm, measured voice, she began to issue her ruling.

"I will admit I was a bit hasty and rushed to judgment based upon what young Zach said to me. I am human, and spent much of the past thirty minutes examining my own prejudices regarding homosexuals. The world in which we live is not black and white, and the more we try to make it that way, the more draconian we appear as a society. Zach grew up in a broken home, raised by a mother who cared more about getting her latest fix or lay than her own flesh and blood. By sheer luck, or divine intervention, Mr. Abrams and Mr. Hudgins were able to rescue the boy and provide a loving and nurturing environment for him. I have no doubt that both men care deeply for his well-being.

"However, my task is not to place him just where he is loved. It is to ensure that the boy's best interests are maintained. Foster care, as Mr. Jackson suggests, would allow Zach the chance to blossom, and he will be cared for by a mother and a father. With that said, that deprives the child of access to his biological parent, and should only be considered if that parent is unfit and no alternative relatives are available to care for the boy. Foster care is a matter of last resort, not a way to discriminate against parents whose lifestyles differ from what an individual finds acceptable.

"It is my decision that Mr. Abrams has more than proven himself to be fit to raise his son and provide him with the love and support he will need as he continues his journey through life.

"Also at question is the matter of Mr. Hudgins's custody. It is most unusual that Child Protective Services decided to grant you custody as well. From everything I've witnessed and heard today, it is apparent that you are just as much a father to Zach as his own. It is my decision that you will retain the custody that has been granted to you, as I find no reason to rescind it.

"Finally, although Miss Hollin is still facing trial for her crimes, where she will be presumed innocent until proven otherwise, her role in this matter cannot be ignored. Effective immediately, all parental rights for Willow Hollin are revoked. Upon such time as her innocence is confirmed, she is welcome to petition the courts to regain her rights, but I've seen and heard enough evidence clearly showing how unfit she is as a mother to not allow them to continue at this time.

"Mr. Abrams, Mr. Hudgins, congratulations. I wish the three of you nothing but the best. We are dismissed."

With that, Judge Gould rapped her gavel and exited the room again.

Immediately, I was on my feet, wrapping my son and my boyfriend into another hug; a Zach sandwich, to be precise. I hadn't said anything earlier, but I agreed with Zach and Noah; this was my new favorite sandwich, and I wanted to have one every day.

– – – * * * – – –

Jubilant with our success, we left the courtroom, Zach walking proudly between us, holding our hands. Seeing the smiles on our faces, Lydia quickly swooped in and picked up Zach.

"Congratulations little guy!"

Zach just beamed while Noah, Richard and I filled Lydia and Tom in on everything. While we were talking, Willow's lawyer came over to us.

"Excellent job in there," he said, sticking out his hand. Only Richard shook it. Zach glared at him angrily from Lydia's arms.

"Bart, don't you have better cases to pursue than this? I would've figured you would pawn off family court hearings to one of your lackeys," Richard said.

"Normally I wouldn't even take on a family court case, but let's just say I have a vested interest in Miss Hollin's cases."

Richard gave a knowing look, but didn't pursue the matter.

"I know y'all probably hate me, but I'm just pursuing my client's wishes. I told her there was almost no way a judge would rule in her favor for custody, but she insisted I fight tooth and nail, which is exactly what I did. You had the better case from the get go. Hopefully this defeat will open her eyes and she'll consider pleading out. There are too many witnesses and firm evidence for my taste," Mr. Jackson said.

"So basically the only way she'll walk is on a technicality is what you're saying," Richard prodded.

"I never said that," the lawyer responded with a wink. "Anyway, I just came by to tell you congratulations. I truly mean it when I say I wish nothing but the best for y'all." He then walked away.

"Can you believe the nerve of that guy, insinuation we don't care about Zach's best interest and we're child molesters one minute, and then turning around and well-wishing the next? That guy is all sorts of slimy," I said after he was out of earshot.

"In his defense, I would have done the exact same thing. As a lawyer, my job is to provide the best defense I can for my client and to defend them as vigorously as possible. Sometimes you have to say things you don't actually believe.

"In general, Bart's a good guy; I've met him a few times. Sure, he's a little slimier than average, but in the end, it's what you have to do for your paycheck," Richard said.

"I guess, but I didn't appreciate him trying to rip my family apart and then trying to make nice," I conceded.

"If I read between the lines correctly, I wonder if he's more entangled in Willow's affairs than he'd like to be. He may not really have a choice but to do what she says."

"I noticed that, too," Noah said. "Do you think he's one of her Johns?"

"Daddy, weren't you paying attention? His name is 'Bart', not 'John', geeez!" Zach piped up.

"I... um, yeah, that's what I meant, buddy. Do you think he's one of her 'Barts'?" Noah quickly said, a little flustered at the idea of having to explain the context to his son.

"That's my hunch. It may also play a part in wanting her to take a plea," Richard said.

"Well the police said they had more than enough proof when we talked to them the next day. Crap! Don't we have to take Zach to talk to Detective Martin today, Noah? If I remember right, you said he wanted to take a statement from him about seeing all the men coming and going," I said.

"Is 'crap' a no-no word, Daddy?"

"Probably, but we'll let that one slide. If we take away all of Papa's no-no words, he won't have enough words left to talk," Noah deadpanned, the sarcasm completely going over the boy's head as he nodded in agreement. I just shot my boyfriend a dirty look and winked. He knew me all too well, not that he was the epitome of clean language himself!

"I'd completely forgotten about that. How about if the three of us go to the police station and get that done, then we can all meet up for lunch somewhere?"

Everyone was in agreement with the idea, and we went our separate ways. Noah took Zach into the restroom to change him out of the mini-suit. As Noah and I walked, Zach insistent on holding hands with both of us, I had a spring in my step thinking about how perfect the day had turned out so far.

"Sorry for dragging you along, Scott," Noah said as we neared the precinct.

"I don't mind in the slightest. It's a perfect day to go for a walk with my two favorite men."

"Yeah, that's nice, but I want you with us when Zach talks to the detective. If you remember, he acted oddly on the phone when I mentioned us kissing. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I'd just feel safer with a second person there."

"Yeah, I remember that. I didn't get a homophobic vibe from him the night of the fire or the next morning, though, so I think we're overreacting. Maybe he's just one of those breeders that gets uncomfortable with the thought of what we do in the bedroom," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, well I get grossed out by the thought of what they do, so I guess I can understand that!"

"Either way, it'll probably be easier on Zach with both of us there," I added.

"What's a breeder, Papa?" Zach asked.

I decided to answer his question correctly, if not in the context I had intended it. I also made a mental note to work on minimizing my use entendres around my son.

"A breeder is someone who takes two adult dogs and has them make puppies," I explained.

"Oh, cool. Can I be a breeder when I grow up?"

"You can be anything you want. Scott and I will love you, even if you grow up to be a breeder," Noah said winking at me. I had to stifle a laugh.

"So the detective man raises puppies?"

Maybe I hadn't thought my explanation through very well. Last thing I needed was for Zach to tell a man who was possibly homophobic that I had referred to him as a breeder!

"I don't know, little buddy. Maybe it'd be best if we don't ask him. Can you do that for me?"

"Ok."

The conversation didn't continue, because Zach started counting and insisting we lift him into the air, swinging him forward every three steps. He giggled and squealed with pleasure every time. We probably received quite a bit of attention, but we were living in the moment and loving every second of it.

Inside the precinct, we were escorted to the play room Zach had been in before and told to wait. Zach wasted no time and immediately started playing with the blocks, while Noah and I sat at the table and chatted aimlessly. A few minutes later, Detective Martin came in.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting; I was trying to finish up some paperwork," he said.

"I bet it never ends," I said with a chuckle.

"Of course not; there's even paperwork to verify that paperwork was filed correctly. It's enough to make me want to scream some days. It's a necessary part of the job, though; you gotta do what you gotta do.

"Now, y'all are here for Zach to make a statement about what he saw regarding his mother prostituting herself out, right?"

"Yes," Noah said as I winced at the detective's straightforwardness and hoped it didn't upset Zach, who seemed oblivious as he played.

"If I remember correctly, y'all had your custody hearing this morning. I hope it went well."

"It went great, despite the best efforts of Willow's lawyer," Noah said. "By the way, exactly like you requested, we haven't discussed what Zach told us any further with him. He's probably unaware exactly why we brought him here."

"Zach, come here and say hi to Detective Martin. He wants to talk to you," I said to the boy.

Obediently, Zach stopped what he was doing and trotted over

"Hi. I didn't do nothing, Papa!" he said innocently.

"I didn't say you did, buddy. Why don't you sit down next to me, and he'll explain exactly why you're here."

Zach did as requested, as Detective Martin put a tape recorder on the table.

"What's that?" Zach asked, eying the relic.

"It's a tape recorder. We're going to talk, and this will record our voices. Later, I'll play it back and write down what we both said."

"Oh, ok. Can I try it?" Zach asked.

The detective pressed record.

"Say something, Zach."

"Something Zach," the boy said grinning like he was the cleverest person in the world.

Martin pressed stop, rewound the tape and played it back. Sure enough, it recorded exactly what had been said. Zach squealed happily upon hearing his voice emanating from the speakers.

"That's me, Daddy," he excitedly told Noah. "Can we get one of these?"

"We don't need one, buddy, we can record your voice on our phones."

"Oh. Why doesn't he use his phone then?"

"Because my boss won't let me. I have to do it the old-fashioned way," the detective responded.

"Oh, ok then. Daddy, can I use your phone later to make a ra-cord-in?"

"Sure thing, Zachy. Maybe Scott can even show you how to make your voice sound funny. Now answer the nice man's questions. Once we're done, we'll meet your grandparents and Tom for lunch."

"Zach, you saw your father and Scott kissing on the couch, and you asked a lot of questions that concerned them, and they wanted you to tell me about them. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Sure, I got bored in my room and I went into the living room and Papa was on top of Daddy and they were kissing."

"One day, I'll get better at interrogating kids, I swear," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Let's see... did you ever see your mother kissing men like that?"

"Sure, lots of times."

It continued for a while, and Detective Martin was actually quite skilled at getting details the boy didn't even know he was providing. He detailed gifts, drugs, and cash being exchanged for sexual favors, even if he didn't realize what was actually going on. It was heartbreaking how matter-of-factly Zach described his mother engaging in sexual acts – let alone being paid to do so. No one should have to witness anyone, especially a parent engaging in that. At the same time, I was glad he didn't fully understand what he saw. He was a bright kid, but it didn't seem like his innocence was too tarnished despite what he'd been through.

"Ok, Zach, you did real well. I don't have any more questions for you, but I want to talk to your dad and Scott for a moment. You want to play again?"

"Yeah!" he responded with his usual enthusiasm.

"Once we finished sorting through everything in the trailer, we found a notebook that appears to corroborate what Zach told me. She knew what she was doing, though, and the DA is convinced we can only use it as evidence if we can find a way to crack the code.

"Zach doesn't understand what he saw, so he would be eviscerated if he was put on the witness stand. I couldn't get him to describe any of her Johns. I don't want to traumatize him, and he probably won't do very well at picking someone out of a lineup anyway, but if you manage to get him to describe anyone to you, pass it on to me. I want to make sure we nail her."

"Zach might actually have to testify? He's only four!" Noah exclaimed.

"It's tricky with kids, but they can testify as long as they know the difference between a truth and a lie. The only thing he'd be needed for is proving the prostitution charges, and that's only because he's all we have."

"And you want us to pry and make him remember what these men looked like?"

"I don't know. I just know I want to make sure she spends a long time in jail for what she did."

"Bart Jackson," Noah said quietly.

"What?"

"See if you can find a connection to him in that notebook. He's her lawyer, and he made a passing reference to having a 'vested interest' in her case. I wouldn't be surprised if he's being blackmailed to defend her."

"That's a place to start, at least. Look there's one other thing I wanted to bring up. Something about you set me off, Scott, and I couldn't figure it out. I did a little digging into your background, and I was... surprised with what it was."

I was shocked, and felt a little violated. "What do you mean you dug into my background?"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have, but I had to know why seeing you made me feel off."

"Am I under suspicion of something?" I asked defensively.

"No, nothing like that. It's a personal issue of mine, so I don't really want to bring it up here, but I'm going to be in Atlanta later this week on some personal time. I was wondering if I could call you and meet up to talk. I promise I'll explain everything at that time. Sorry if I'm being cryptic, but this really isn't the best place to talk about it."

I thought for a minute, but didn't see a downside to agreeing to his request. "Um, sure, I guess," I said, writing down my phone number for him. "Although, I have to say you really have me a bit uneasy at the moment."

"Sorry about that. I really need to talk to you, and I didn't know how to politely bring it up. It's a bit heavy but not anything to worry about. Would Wednesday afternoon work for you? I'll be in town through the weekend, but I'd rather talk sooner rather than later if possible."

"Wednesday works for me. Just give me a call, and we'll work out the details."

"Perfect. Y'all have a good day, and I'll call you Wednesday. Thank you so much, Scott. I really appreciate it."

I noticed that, like me, Detective Martin said 'y'all' naturally, but it lacked the same drawl as most Southerners. Even Noah, who didn't have an accent despite having grown up in the area, managed to make the contraction a three syllable word. For a moment I wondered if the detective was a transplant like me, but realized it didn't matter, and pushed the thought from my mind. I was no longer concerned about the conversation he wanted to have with me, but I was extremely curious.

We left the police station and met up with Tom and his parents at a local pizza place. Lydia seemed to be in her element around Zach, and was even laughing and telling jokes from time to time. The mood was definitely celebratory, and we happily moved to an ice cream parlor for a sweet treat. I was glad we'd had the foresight to bring a change of clothes; otherwise Zach's suit would have been covered in pizza sauce and chocolate. Without thinking about it, I licked my finger to try to wipe some of the grime off his face. I looked around sheepishly when I realized what I'd done, and Lydia gave me a knowing wink.

"Being a dad comes naturally to you, Scott," she said.

"I guess it does. When we brought Zach home, I was terrified I wouldn't know what to do. All seems well so far," I responded.

"Trust me, that's a natural reaction. It was months before I could pick up Steven or Thomas without being worried that I'd do something wrong."

"You did great with us, Mom," Tom said.

"Thank you, dear, but when you're a new parent, it can be so overwhelming, and you're constantly afraid you'll do something wrong and the kid will be messed up for life."

"Naw, kids are resilient. My parents managed to lose Ethan at least twice, and he turned out alright," I said with a laugh.

Around three, we decided it was time to head home. As expected, Zach asked to borrow Noah's phone to make recordings. Tom was 'helpful' and even downloaded an app to allow him to change his voice. I can't speak for Tom, but the two adults up front were nearly at our wits' ends by the time we got home. Driving with a small child in the car is so much less annoying when he's content to just sit and quietly look out the window.

Noah checked the mail while the rest of us headed inside. Moments later, he came racing inside.

"Scott! Scott! It came!"

"What came?" I asked.

"The letter from the school!"

"Well what's it say?"

"I don't know. I didn't open it yet." Noah started to open the thick packet, but froze. "I can't; I'm too nervous. You open it."

"Babe, I doubt they'd mail you a thick packet if it was a rejection letter. Just look." I was torn between being a supportive boyfriend and laughing at his mood swing.

Finally, he dramatically ripped the packet open, sending papers everywhere. He grabbed the first single sheet of paper he saw and begin to read it out loud.

"Dear Noah Abrams, We regret to inform you that... Fuck! I didn't get in!" he said loudly.

"Daddy! No-no word!" Zach said gruffly.

I ripped the paper from his hands. "That doesn't make any sense. Let me look."

I glanced at the paper and couldn't contain my laughter.

"I'm glad you can find this funny," Noah said crossly.

"It's not a rejection letter, babe. The class you wanted that was on campus was full, so the letter just informs you that you'll have to wait for next semester to take it."

"So I got in?" he asked hopefully.

"This one doesn't say. All it says is you didn't get that class. I'm sure one of the other papers says you got in."

We sorted through the papers, and quickly found the letter. Holding it up proudly, I loudly read, "'Dear Noah Abrams, We are pleased to offer you a position for a Bachelor of Arts degree in graphic design starting in the Fall Semester, 2012.' Congratulations, baby, you got in! I knew you would; I'm so proud of you," I gushed, smothering his face with kisses.

"Can I put this on the fridge next to the drawing Zach made of us and Chuck E.? Please?" I asked.

In hindsight, maybe I overreacted a bit, but I was so damn proud of my boyfriend at that moment.

"Um... hold on... I got accepted?" Noah said, slightly in shock.

"Of course you did! Here, read for yourself," I said, handing him the paper. Noah proceeded to read it to himself, half-mumbling under his breath.

"Oh, ok... they sent me a course catalog and lists of all the required software and supplies I'll need. That explains why it's so thick."

"We should go out and celebrate. Maybe the four of us can go out for dinner. Afterwards, Tom can watch Zach while you and I get some drinks. Would that be ok with you, Tom?"

"That's fine with me," he responded.

"Can I invite Will to come with us? He's been trying to get me to do something with my life forever," Noah asked.

"How about you invite him to dinner. Then if you two want to get drinks, that's fine, but I'll stay home. I'm not sure I'm ready to spend time with him outside of a group yet."

"Then I won't ask him to join us for drinks. I don't want to put you out."

"It wouldn't put me out. He's your friend. Besides," I said, pulling him into an embrace, "we can always celebrate when you get home."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that," he said kissing me passionately. Tom cleared his throat.

"Guys, you're not alone, you know."

"You don't have to watch," I said, giving Noah one more peck on the lips.

"You two go out and have fun. It'll give me a chance to iron out some plans for our trip."

"To the Bahamas?" Noah guessed.

"You don't even have a passport," I reminded him.

"I guess Europe's out of the question then, too, huh?"

"I'm not going to tell you, you know that, right?"

"I know, but that won't stop me from guessing. You sure you don't have a problem with me hanging out with Will? I feel bad because you suggested drinks, only for me to steal the idea away from you."

"No, it's fine," I told him sincerely. "We don't have to do everything together, and you should celebrate with your friend. We've got plenty of time to make it up."

For dinner, I pushed Noah out of his comfort zone by taking us to a great Cuban restaurant tucked into the middle of the multi-million-dollar homes that make up the residential part of Midtown. I don't think he expected to see fried plantains or ox tail soup on a menu, but even Zach enjoyed the food. Will met us at the restaurant, and he and Noah left for drinks when we finished eating.

Will fit into the group easily, and Zach took to him quickly. Part of me was beginning to regret not joining them for drinks. If I was being honest with myself, I did slightly feel like Noah chose Will over me, but I was the one who pushed for it, and I'd just have to deal with my insecurities.

I took full advantage of the personal time, calling my parents, Ethan, and Dustin. Ethan and Emma had already been bought up to speed with the developments in my life, while Dustin was caught by surprise. Everyone was more than willing to squeeze in time to make our last-minute vacation work, and I was glad everything seemed to fall into place.

I looked into my idea for the trip for just the three of us, and quickly realized just how perfect my idea was. I went ahead and made all of the arrangements, including the airfare. I was paying a premium for not planning farther in advance, but it would be worth it. I spent a little more time researching things to do and ran into a problem; I kept finding things I wanted to do with just Noah. I came up with a solution, and called my brother back to see if he and Emma would be up for possibly joining us – if Noah approved, of course. Like Noah, I wouldn't tell Eth where we were going, but he was definitely interested. I told him I'd let him know either way the next day.

Vacation plans mostly finalized, I joined Tom and Zach in the living room. Tom had just put in the fish movie for Zach to watch again, and one of the previews was advertising Disney World, which apparently got Zach's interest.

"Papa, can we go there, pleeeeeeaaase?"

It was difficult for me to keep a straight face when I told him, "We'll see."

– – – * * * – – –

After spending the movie cuddling with my favorite boy, I gave him his bath and tucked him in. He was a little upset that Noah wasn't back yet, but he seemed to recover quickly when I assured him Noah would be there when he woke up. It seemed as though he was already getting over a lot of his anxiety about us leaving him.

Just after midnight, Noah stumbled into the house. He wasn't completely smashed, but his coordination was definitely off.

"Heeeeey baaaby, I looooove yoooooou," he slurred while batting his eyelashes at me before giggling like he'd said something funny.

"I take it you had a good time?"

"The best, baby, but I missed you," he said wrapping his arms around me. I jumped in surprise when he shoved his hand down the back of my pants and squeezed my ass.

"I take it someone's horny," I said beginning to get annoyed. Very few things are as obnoxious as being the only sober one in the room.

"For you, I could be, baaaaaby," he said with a wink before kissing me firmly.

'Screw it,' I thought. I'd been hoping to talk to him when he got home, but I'd expected him to come home slightly tipsy, not flat-out drunk.

In bed that night, he definitely had enthusiasm, which almost made up for the lack of technique. He couldn't seem to find my prostate with his fingers, and the sloppy blowjob was perfunctory at best. I finally managed to cum, and discovered that I was apparently on my 'A game', since he couldn't talk about anything other than how amazing it was during our pillow talk.

I was a little grateful when he finally fell asleep. I wasn't mad or frustrated; I knew full-well that there would probably be nights in the future where the shoe was on the other foot. I figured it was probably also my penance for not enjoying the night with him.

– – – * * * – – –

Tuesday was the first uneventful day in the house in over a week. We did mundane chores like dusting and laundry and spent time with Zach in the nearby park. I received several new offers for jobs and found myself in the enviable position of being able to choose which offers I could accept. I purposefully only chose tasks that I could either get accomplished before leaving for our trip or could wait for us to get back.

I brought up the idea of Emma and Ethan coming along to allow us to have some adult time on our vacation.

"I knew it! We're going to Vegas, baby! Yeah! Gambling and go-go boys, here we come!"

"The only hint I'm giving you is that someone has guessed it already."

"And I'm the only one guessing, so it has to be Las Vegas. This is going to be awesome!"

I hoped he wouldn't be too disappointed, but I did know where to take him for our next trip!

We also had a serious discussion about our sexual histories, knowing how badly both of us wanted to take our sex-life to the final stage.

Before Steve, I'd always played safe. Unfortunately, I wasn't as careful while I'd slept my way around the nation's capital. For the most part, I'd used protection, but it only takes one mistake to catch something incurable.

I was certain I'd manage to escape unscathed; Emma had insisted I be tested before I left, but there's no such thing as being too careful.

Noah was just as honest as I was with him. He admitted he regularly tried to remember to use protection, but there were a number of times he either forgot or was too caught up in the moment to care. Worse than the lapse in his judgment, I discovered he'd never been tested.

"Noah! That's irresponsible if you know you're not being safe." The rebuke was harsher than I intended and unfair, since I had done the same.

"I know, I was too scared about what the results would be. The last time I remember foregoing condoms was well over a year ago. I haven't been with anyone, other than you, of course, in the last five months."

"We should get tested, if only for each other's piece of mind. Planned Parenthood offers free HIV rapid testing; the results are available in minutes."

Making sure that a napping Zach was in good hands with Tom, we headed out to do just that. Thirty minutes later, we were both trying without luck to calm each other down while we waited for the results.

"Good news for both of you," the nurse said when she entered the room, "the results of the oral swab came back negative. The detailed tests will take a week or so to come back, but I wouldn't worry, since neither of you show any symptoms of anything nasty."

On the way home, we stopped at a store and picked up some condoms, lube, and a few other essentials. Neither of us could decide if we would be using the protection, but decided it was best to have it on hand, just in case.

I called Ethan to confirm our plans, before booking their trip as well. On a whim, I upgraded their plane tickets to first class. He told me they'd pay their own way, but I'd eat the extra cost. I really appreciated them joining us, and wanted to do something special.

That night, Noah's expert fingers and tongue once again had me practically begging for his cock. I pointed out that we had the condoms now, but he insisted the moment wasn't right. I had to settle for drinking Noah's sperm from the source again, not that I was unhappy with doing so. Like usual, we wrapped our bodies around each other as we drifted off to sleep.

– – – * * * – – –

Wednesday started out mundane enough. I got some work done while Noah downloaded the software he needed for school. I had been right; he got massive discounts. I considered taking advantage of that perk next time I wanted to upgrade.

Shortly after lunch, my phone rang.

"Hudgins Design, Scott speaking," I said, not recognizing the number. Most of my clients rarely called me, but it did happen on occasion.

"Um, hi, I assume this is Scott Hudgins? Jason Martin speaking."

"Hi, detective, yes it is. Sorry, I'm in the habit of answering that way if I don't have the number programmed."

"That's understandable. I'm just 'Jason', by the way. Are you available to get together and talk?"

"I'm free. Is it alright if Noah joins us? Do you want to meet somewhere for coffee?"

"I don't have a problem with Noah being there; in fact, it might be better if he was. I was actually hoping I could come by your home. I don't mean to impose, but I'd prefer to talk more privately."

"Sure, that's fine," I told him and gave him my address. He told me he'd be by in half an hour.

Tom offered to take Zach to the zoo while Noah and I talked with Jason. Noah and I tidied up a little, not that the house really needed it. The doorbell rang exactly thirty minutes after I had hung up the phone.

– – – * * * – – – * * * – – – * * * – – – * * * – – – * * * – – – * * * – – –

So sorry, everyone. I posted this everywhere else last week, but in the craziness that's ensued, I completely forgot to post it to Nifty. I still have no idea if 35 will be back to the normal posting schedule or if it'll be next week, although at this point I'm leaning next week. Hubby and I are 'moved', but 90% of everything is still in boxes as we shuffle things around to slowly paint the house. I didn't realize until I started getting feedback on gayauthors, but I guess this one ALSO has a bit of a cliffhanger as well. Feel free to send me guesses as to what Jason wants to talk about! (so far, no one's got it correct, but I've gotten several interesting ideas!)

I'd like to thank my readers for all the wonderful comments I have received. A very special thanks to those of you have emailed me. Please, keep them coming!!!!

My story is also hosted at http://fitz.thestorycloset.org, http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/story/fitz/moving_on, and on my story website, http://movingonstory.weebly.com. I really need to find the time to update all the bios now that the hearing is over!

I tend to update all sites at the same time, but because of the way Nifty works, new chapters tend to show up on the other three sites a day earlier (sometimes two depending on how backlogged Nifty gets with updates) than they do here.

The story's Facebook group, 'Moving On' is a good place to also receive updates on the story. Mostly, it seems to be used for me to provide teases or vent mild writing frustrations, but it's welcome to all for whatever purposes that come. It is a 'closed group', meaning nothing posted in the group is visible to nonmembers, and the group does not show up on your timeline for others to see. However, searching for the group by name will bring up the name and the members of the group, so it is not completely safe from prying eyes. All content will be kept at a PG-13 level. All are welcome to join by clicking on this link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/226097850809679/.

Alright...enough meaningless rambling! Don't forget to send me feedback, sign up for the Facebook group if you want, and please visit my site!!

Don't forget to send me any questions or comments to movingonstory@gmail.com.