Date: Fri, 16 Sep 2005 16:06:09 -0400
From: "Tinnean" <tinneantoo@embarqmail.com>
Subject: The Lick Me, Suck Me, Fuck Me Jeans

Disclaimer: The DSD and Bradenhurst Corp. are entities created for the
now-canceled TV show, JAG. They belong to Donald Bellisario. However, all
characters and situations in this story are original.

Notes: The title was graciously lent me by Trackrat. // indicates a
conversation by the clothes. Wills was singing The Sweetheart of Sigma
Chi. The tool belt is from George A. Davis, a company that sells trade
tools. The work boots are manufactured by both Timberland and
Wolverine. L&R is left foot, right foot. :) Rosie's Bakery
http://www.rosiesbakery.com/ has locations in Cambridge, Boston, and
Chestnut Hill. If you ever have the opportunity to visit, I highly
recommend the Chocolate Orgasm.  The Boom Booms are for Tim. He knows
why. 'My tail's for sale, half a crown will lay me down,' belongs to
Kathleen Windsor and is from her novel, Forever Amber. 'Doing his little
turn on the catwalk' refers to Right Said Fred's I'm Too Sexy. Al Bundy
drove the mighty Dodge on Married... With Children. This was beta'd by Gail
with her usual panache and was for her birthday, 2/25.

The Lick Me, Suck Me, Fuck Me Jeans Part 1

I heard the story from 505, the Levi jeans, about how, exactly, he got that
patch on his seat. It was,

~Summer 1994~

"Jesus, Harry, relax, will you? You look like you've got St. Vitus' Dance!"
Wills Matheson, the owner and wearer of the 505s, limped into the ER. His
cousin Harry, ashen-faced and twitchy, followed right behind.

"But you're bleeding, Wills! I can see it..." Harry'd been hovering over
him since he'd realized the nail he'd shot from his nail gun had actually
hit his cousin's ass. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry! I should have known
you'd never flirt with my girl."

Yes, he should have; 505 told me that Mathesons didn't make passes at a
family member's girlfriend, but if Wills agreed with him, he'd feel even
worse.

"It was an accident, Harry. I *know* that, and I'm not blaming you."

"Yeah, but my dad will. And your dad... And Aunt Jill is gonna tear my head
off when she finds out! Oh, jesus, just look at your jeans!"

Fortunately, Wills couldn't see what condition the seat of his work jeans
was in.

Unfortunately, Harry was right about Wills' stepmother. Jill was very
protective of all her children, and especially the child of her heart.

"You'd better hope she doesn't decide to cook for me, because then I'll
have to come after you and hurt you."

Harry grinned half-heartedly. The entire family knew what a lethal cook
Jill Matheson was, although that was something of which she herself was
oblivious.

"It'll be okay, Harry. You're her favorite nephew. She'll just get me a new
pair of jeans. I needed them anyway. I go back to college in two weeks, and
I sure won't be able to wear these!"

"I knew it, you *are* pissed at me!"

"*Harry*!" What Wills was pissed about was the two weeks pay he'd be losing
if the doctor told him he was hurt worse than he thought he was and
couldn't work.

"Problem?" A cute, fair-haired nurse in green scrubs walked up to them. He
was holding a clipboard and had a stethoscope around his neck, and 505
could feel Wills' dick choose that moment to get interested.

505 also said the tee shirt Wills was wearing told him he could feel the
heat of Wills' flush right down to the material over his chest.

//Does that mean our owner is gay?// I'd asked with some trepidation. I was
very young then.

//NO!//

And we'd all breathed sighs of relief. We'd heard tales that gay people
often got beat up, and getting beat up tended to be hard on us clothes. And
the people who wore us, of course.

"You've gotta help him!" Harry grabbed the nurse with one hand, then
grabbed Wills' arm and spun him around, showing off the tear in his
jeans. 505 said that he could tell from the way his wearer's body tightened
that his leg must have twinged in protest.

"Oh, wow, that's a nasty..."

"I knew it! You're gonna lose your leg! Jesus, Wills, I'm
So. Fucking. Sorry."

The nurse cleared his throat. "Actually, I was going to say that's a nasty
tear in your jeans." He looked at Wills through his lashes and gave a tiny
smile. "I'm Matt. Why don't you come with me... Wills? Dr. Muller will see
you." He shoved the clipboard into Harry's hands. "Here, you can fill this
out while I bring your..."

"Huh? Oh, Wills is my cousin." Harry took Wills' wallet with the insurance
cards in it.

"I'll just take your cousin back to bay 4." As the nurse led Wills away, he
dropped his voice. "I wouldn't mind holding your hand if you need
stitches."

"You wouldn't?"

"I wouldn't what?"

"Mind holding my hand?" Wills' dick was nudging 505's fly, thinking that
might be a good idea.

The nurse turned pale. "I'm sorry, you weren't meant to hear that!
Shit. You're a construction worker."

"What does that have to do with you holding my hand?"

"Everyone knows how macho construction workers are. You and your cousin are
going to wait out in the parking lot until my shift is over and beat the
shit out of me, aren't you?"

"No. Though I don't think I'd mind waiting out in the parking lot if you'd
go out with me for a drink when you get off your shift?"

That confused 505. From all he knew from his own personal experience, Wills
was straight! Wasn't he?

"Are you old enough to drink? My god, what am I saying? This is
unprofessional of me, I didn't mean it, and I'm sorry, and... Oh, this is
bay 4. Here." He shoved a johnny gown into Wills' hand. "Take off your
jeans and shorts and put this on. I'll go find the doctor." He pulled the
curtain that would offer a modicum of privacy across the opening of the bay
and left as if his pants were on fire.

When the curtain was opened again, an older woman stood there. "I'm
Dr. Muller. Let me take a look at the injury to your gluteus maximus."

Wills' dick, which had been semi-erect in spite of the discomfort he was
in, wilted.

****

"Wills?"

"What, Harry?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yes, Harry." He finished easing 505 up over the bandage the doctor had
taped to his ass after she'd numbed and stitched it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just have to be careful how I sit for the next few days. And it's
gonna leave a scar."

Wills suddenly found himself engulfed in a hug. "I'm sorry," his cousin
snuffled against his neck.

"Harry, if you tell me you're sorry one more time, I'm gonna shoot you in
the ass."

"Okay. But Wills? I'm sorry."

He groaned. "Take me home, would you?" Harry got an arm around Wills' back
and stooped. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Um... carrying you?"

He started to laugh. "I can walk, you jerk. We're done here; let's pick up
my pain meds at the pharmacy and go."

Wills looked around as they left, but he didn't see Matt anywhere. He never
did see the cute male nurse again.

~~~~

~Two weeks later~

I was given to William Matheson as a gift on his nineteenth birthday.

"Happy birthday, sweetie!" a female voice chirruped.

There was the rustling sound of paper being torn, and then bright, bright
light as the cover of the box I was in was lifted off. I lay there at
attention, my creases knife-sharp, my buttons a shiny pewter. I wanted to
make the best first impression that I could. First impressions were so
important.

And then he lifted me up out of the box that still had wrapping paper
hanging from it and looked me over with those brown eyes of his, and I was
lost for all time.

It was love at first sight, at least as far as I was concerned.

"Thanks, Jill. These are super!" He stroked a hand over the material that
would cover his groin when I covered his body.

"I'm so glad you like them! See, Jack. I *told* you he'd like them!"

"There was any question?"

"I told her season tickets to the Patriots' home games would have gone over
bigger than clothes."

"Ah, Dad, these are great. I needed a new pair after...um... And I wouldn't
have really been able to use the tickets since I'll be away at college."

"That's true." The older man sighed.

"Jack."

"Yes, Jill?"

She handed him a slim envelope.

"Jill! The Patriots' tickets! It's not my birthday!"

"I know, darling. Not for six months, so happy unbirthday."

He scooped her up in his arms and swung her around, kissing her soundly.

What a nice family I had joined.

****

Jill insisted I be washed before William... *Wills* packed me in his
suitcase. When she wasn't looking, he put me into three separate hot
washes, and when he finally pulled me from the dryer I was saddened to see
I'd lost some of my deep blue color.

But he was happy. "Ah, that's more like it." He held me up and rubbed his
thumbs over the hip seams. "Can't have the guys teasing me because my jeans
look brand new!"

I was nervous. I'd heard tales of jeans getting bundled into a slovenly
ball and shoved into a backpack or duffle bag, but Wills was great. He
folded me in half, and in half again. When he zipped the pilot case he was
taking back to school with him, I was snug and comfortable.

And the entire way there, I dreamed of the things we would do together. I
thought, since this was his sophomore year, that maybe we'd be in a frat
house, and I looked forward to sampling life as the jeans of a college man.

~Fall 1994-- Sophomore Year~

The Alpha Omega Chi fraternity house was a big, old house on the outskirts
of the campus. Legend had it that Washington slept there. Trees that could
have been liberty trees during the time of the Revolution grew in the front
yard and beautiful perennials bracketed the walk that led from the street
to the door and bloomed around the porch. Later I learned that Wills often
helped the housemother, who had a green thumb, plant and nurture them.

"Hey, Matheson!" one of his fraternity brothers called. We clothes could
hear him through the walls of the suitcase. "You and Shaw are rooming
together this year. The room under the gable in front." He lowered his
voice, and all the clothes in the suitcase strained to hear more. "No one
else wants to room with the little shit."

"Johnson, Michael's my friend."

"Yeah, well, your 'friend' is suspected of selling the answers to all the
finals for the summer semester."

"I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself. But I'm warning you. Watch your ass around him. Just
because you're a loyal friend doesn't mean he is. Willie Boy."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? Shaw does."

Wills spat out a bad word and turned to trot up the stairs. "Michael's been
my friend since sixth grade," he muttered under his breath. "He wouldn't
have done something like steal the answers to those tests so he could make
chump change selling them. Do you know how well off his family is?" he
demanded rhetorically. But there was uneasiness in his voice.

When we got to the room under the gable, Wills unpacked and changed into
me.

"Hey, Willie Boy!"

That tone of voice! If I didn't have a button fly it would have set the
teeth of my zipper on edge.

"Michael! How've you been? And don't call me Willie. It makes me sound like
someone's dick."

"And if I call you *Billie* Boy, you sound like a folk song."

This 'Michael' person sauntered over to where we stood and walked around
us, so close I could feel the patronizing brush of his high-priced jeans
against me. There was a designer label on his back pocket. //We're gonna
get you,// the jeans whispered, smug and condescending. //You're gonna be
ours.//

"I like your jeans. *Wills*."

"Thanks." Wills laughed, but he seemed uncomfortable. He stepped away from
him, and if I'd had lungs, I'd have let out a relieved breath. "How was the
course you took this summer, Michael?" He was too polite to rub in the fact
that his friend had gotten an 'incomplete' in that course and failed it,
and so had to repeat it if he wanted enough credits to graduate with his
class.

I realized Wills was uncomfortable, not because his friend had complimented
me or even was encroaching on his personal space, but because of the
accusation that Michael Shaw had done something dishonorable.

"It was like summer school in high school, Willie Boy." Shaw didn't follow
Wills. He shrugged, an unconcerned smile on his lips. The smile didn't
reach his eyes. "Cut into all the time I could have spent bagging babes
down at Virginia Beach."

"How does your family like living in Virginia?"

"One hick town is like another. Now my father can be a big fish in a little
pond and pretend he's Donald Trump for real."

"Michael, what are you talking about? Your dad's a good guy."

"Bullshit. If he was so great, why didn't he move to Cambridge with Mom and
me, instead of staying in New York and only seeing us on the weekends?
Boston has a stock exchange too, y'know."

"I'm sure he did what he thought was best for you all at the time."

"You think?" Michael's voice dripped with sarcasm. "He's got no use for
me. Not since..." His mouth snapped shut on whatever he might have said.

"Michael, your father loves you."

"He's not like your dad, y'know. Fuck it. It isn't important."

And Wills didn't know how to respond to that. His family was nothing like
his friend's. "Uh... Did you pass the course?"

"Sure. Did you doubt it? Aced the fucker, and I'll make damn sure I don't
have to repeat that experience. Listen, let's hit the Liberty Tree for some
brews. I'll treat; a belated birthday present " He pulled out something
from his back pocket. "Fake IDs, made by the best. It'll be our final
farewell to summer."

****

That year passed quickly. Wills spent a good deal of his spare time in the
library studying, or in the biology and physiological chemistry labs, but
most often the computer lab, where according to the khaki Lee twills that
he wore during school hours, he was excelling.

Clothes could be such notorious gossips.

Michael Shaw was out every weekend partying. "C'mon, Willie... Wills," he
corrected, lightly deriding, when Wills raised an eyebrow at him. "Put on
your 501s and let's have some fun!"

"Didn't we do enough of that freshman year? Worshipping at the porcelain
god gets old really fast, Michael."

"We're only young once!"

"We also have a term paper due at the end of the week. Have you even
started on it?"

"I'll get to it." He patted Wills' cheek.

Wills closed his hand around his friend's wrist. "Michael, I worry about
you."

"Aw, that's so sweet, Willie Boy," he mocked gently. "But that's your
problem. You worry too much. Don't. I can take care of myself."

 "I hope so, Michael. I really hope so."

"Hey, worst comes to worst, I'll offer Professor Jensen a blow-job and ace
the course."

"Michael!"

"Just kidding, Willie Boy!"

~Fall 1995~

Wills and Michael were in their junior year of college. Shaw had somehow
managed to turn himself around. Not only were his grades better, but he'd
gotten in tight with the ranking fraternity brothers and was now the
sergeant-at-arms for Alpha Omega Chi.

Occasionally he was able to talk Wills into going out drinking on Friday
and Saturday nights. And he always insisted I go along.

"Want to shoot some pool, Wills?"

"Get a table, and I'll get the beer."

Wills paid for two mugs of beer. The froth spilled over and ran down the
sides, and he held them away from me as he carried them to the back of the
Liberty Tree, where there were a number of pool tables. Michael Shaw had
picked one in the far corner and was casually chalking his cue stick.

"Want to break first?" Shaw leaned his stick against the wall, took the
beers and set them on a high-top table, and watched.

Wills bent over the pool table. His weight was balanced on his left leg, my
material tight over his ass.

The tip of the cue stick hit the white ball, driving it into the others,
sending them rolling across the felt. None of them entered a pocket.

"Damn." Wills was mildly disappointed. He was oblivious to his friend's
eyes hot on me.

"We really should play for something interesting." Shaw picked up his cue
stick and knocked one ball after another into the various pockets. He knew
his way around a pool table, I would give him that.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"I'll think about it and let you know." But he already knew, I could tell
by the way his eyes seemed to strip me off his friend.

Wills reached for his beer and sipped. When he put the mug down, a mustache
of foam had been left behind. His tongue swept out to lick his upper lip
clean.

Shaw couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. I could see the effort he made to
turn back to the game.

He missed the next shot.

"Hey, your glass is empty." His voice sounded hoarse. "This round's on me,
Willie Boy."

"Okay." Wills was studying the few balls that remained on the green felt,
and again he didn't see the way his friend was looking at us.

Shaw glanced around quickly to make sure he was unobserved, gave his jeans
a discreet adjustment, and walked to the bar.

"Hi, Wills," a flirty contralto, and I felt a female hand ghost over the
ass I covered. "I love these jeans."

"Hi, Rissa." His response was friendly. She was his girlfriend. Shouldn't
it have been more than friendly? "Thanks."

"You're welcome. They do something for your... whole package."

"Thanks," Wills repeated with a small laugh. He put down the cue
stick. "These are 501 shrink-to-fit. It's the way they... shrink to fit."

Usually, when he walked her back to her sorority house, her hands would be
all over me. 'These jeans make you look like sex on the hoof, baby! Want to
come up? My roommate's spending the night with her boyfriend, and I have
the room to myself.'

Rissa's roommate always seemed to be spending the night with her boyfriend.

Wills'd gone up a few times, and he'd fucked her. She had shrilly cried out
her climax, but somehow I could tell, when he pulled me back on over his
legs, his dick still semi-hard, that it hadn't been a mind-blowing
experience for him.

And it should have been. According to the conversations of other jeans and
trousers that I'd listened in on, it should have been mind-blowing.

I worried about that.

"Hi, Wills." This time the voice was deeper, and I knew the hand groping us
was male; I was startled to feel Wills' dick twitch a little.

"Hi, Den." Wills was still friendly, but this time he sounded a little
breathless.

"Hi, Rissa."

"Hello, Den. Oh!" She jumped and looked at Dennis Lynch with wide
eyes. Wills may not have noticed, but I did. The bastard had goosed
her. Her lips parted in a sultry smile. "I was just telling Wills how good
he looks in these jeans."

"Yeah?" as if Lynch couldn't care less. "You're looking particularly edible
yourself."

"You really think so?" She blushed and fluttered her lashes. "My hair is
just a mess, I know it! If you gentlemen will excuse me for a second?"

Dennis Lynch watched her walk toward the restrooms, then dropped his voice
even though there was only Wills to hear. Wills and I. "Rissa's cute, but I
have to agree with her. One look at the jeans you're wearing, and all I
want to do is see if your ass is as tight as it looks." His breath must
have tickled Wills' ear; he shivered. Lynch's grin became predatory. "Hey,
what's up with Shaw? Is he jealous?"

"What? Why would he be jealous? He's my friend." I could feel Wills'
... interest... deflate.

"Yeah? Well, we've all seen how 'tight' the two of you are, and your
*friend* is looking like he just got a mouthful of funky spunk."

"You like living dangerously, Lynch? Michael Shaw is. My. Friend." On the
few occasions when Wills spoke in that tone, his fraternity brothers had
learned to back off.

"Whoa, John Alden. I didn't mean anything by it." Lynch apparently realized
he was treading on thin ice. "I'm just saying... Well, look at the puss on
him!"

Shaw stood at the bar waiting for the beer. He was glowering at his friend
and the young man who was standing beside him. His glower was so fierce
that I was glad it wasn't directed at me. When he realized we were watching
him, he smoothed all expression from his face, accepted the two mugs of
beer, and joined us.

"Sorry, I didn't realize this was turning into a threesome. You'll have to
get your own beer, Lynch."

"What's up, Michael?" Wills asked, his voice very quiet. "Something
bothering you?"

"I was thinking of something else." His friend handed him the beer and
shrugged as if it were inconsequential.

"Thought I could smell the wood burning." Wills grinned at him, accepting
his words at face value.

"Smart ass."

"Did I miss anything?" Rissa had returned from the ladies' room. She
fluffed her hair and gazed at Dennis Lynch from under her lashes.

"Rissa, you still drinking Michelob?"

"You remembered!" She glowed.

Lynch winked at her and swaggered to the bar.

Shaw knocked back his beer and swayed slightly.

"Come on, Michael. I think it's time to call it a night; you've had too
much to drink."

"Nah, it's the shank of the evening, and besides, Crystal just walked
in. I've been waiting for her. Catch you later, dude." He started to cross
the room toward the buxom blonde who hovered in the doorway.

I looked over the lacey, camisole-type top she wore, and the hip-hugging
jeans that left her navel exposed, my interest purely professional. I
prided myself in keeping au courant with the latest fashions. There was an
embroidered purple rose studded with rhinestones on one pocket. It was just
the sort of ostentatious enhancement that Versace would appreciate.

"Mikey!"

"Hiya, beautiful! Whaddaya say we blow this popsicle stand?" He kissed her
crimson mouth, sent Wills a little salute, and they left.

"What was that all about?" Rissa asked. Lynch had returned and handed her a
beer.

"Man, if that isn't Shaw being Shaw, pissed because he wasn't the center of
attention!" He seemed have dismissed Wills' unspoken warning. Or else maybe
he thought that with the girl there, Wills wouldn't make waves. "What an
assho... Ooof!"

He thought wrong. The glass dropped from his hand, and he doubled over,
cradling his abdomen.

Wills flexed the fingers of his right hand, then shook them. His knuckles
were a little bruised from the blow he'd landed to Lynch's gut.

"I told you he's my friend, Lynch. Anyone bad-mouths him answers to me."

Lynch couldn't respond, he was busy gasping for breath.

"Dennis!" Rissa was at his side. She slipped an arm around him. "Are you
all right? That wasn't nice, Wills! I'm ashamed of you!"

"For sticking up for my friend?" There was disbelief in Wills' voice.

Rissa ignored him, helping Den straighten. "Let me make sure you get home
okay, Denny."

"Thanks, Rissa. I really don't feel too good." His words held a touch of
pathos, but he was looking as if he no longer minded the punch; she was
gently rubbing his abdomen. The material that covered his dick bulged a
bit.

That was something another pair of jeans would notice, even if she
apparently didn't. The man was a slut if he could go panting after her when
he'd just been panting after Wills.

"Barbarian!" She glared at Wills, then left him standing there alone.

I'd thought that maybe the reason the sex between them hadn't been
mind-blowing was simply because Rissa really wasn't the girl for him, and
it looked like I was right if the little tramp was dumping him for a guy
who wore no-name jeans and saw nothing wrong with talking about someone
behind his back.

Wills walked out of the Liberty Tree, and I could tell he was unhappy.

I talked this over with the other jeans and trousers, and they agreed that
the problem was with Rissa.

//It will be all right, 501. He will find another girl before you know
it. He always does!// The Brooks Brothers dress trousers he wore when he
went to the gatherings at his professors' homes reassured us.

//You should see the way he flirts with all the girls in his classes!// the
Ralph Lauren casuals chimed in. //Even some of his female professors!//

//True,// the dress trousers agreed. //Quite the ladies' man, is our
William.//

Apparently none of the others had noticed his reaction around the male of
the species. Perhaps I was reading too much into it.

//Although...// Something was on the Lee twills' mind. //How come he never
gets any action when he's wearing us?// he wanted to know. //It's always
501.//

I couldn't help preening. Personally, I thought it was because of the
shrink-to-fit aspect of my material, but I didn't say anything.

After all, we all belonged to Wills.

Part 2

~Spring 1996~

Winter was over, and spring break was just around the corner.

"Hey, Wills. The Tri Gams are having a beer bash. Wanna go?"

Wills looked up from the textbook he'd been studying. "Sounds good." He
closed the book, linked his fingers, and stretched his arms high over his
head. "I could used the break. I'll just change."

"Why don't you wear those 501s of yours?"

"They're getting a little worn, don't you think?"

"Not for a keg party." Michael waggled his eyebrows, making Wills smile.

"Okay."

He chose to wear a red tee shirt with black letters that said, Heaven
doesn't want me, and hell is afraid I'll take over. He pulled it on over
his head, tucked it into me, and did up my button fly.

Shaw handed him his leather jacket, and they left.

The guys at Gamma Gamma Gamma knew how to throw a party. There was beer,
girls, beer, chips, beer...

And there was Michael Shaw, pressing a fresh glass of beer into Wills' hand
before the other glass was empty.

Wills was dancing, his moves smooth, even though he was bombed out of his
gourd. Of course he would have insisted he was only a little tight, and I
was too polite to contradict him. His dance partner was the Tri Gam's
mascot, a red, five foot tall, stuffed monkey. He looked soulfully into its
yellow glass eyes and sang in his sweet tenor, "'The girl of my dreams is
the sweetest girl, of all the girls I know...'"

"C'mon, Willie Boy. I think you've had a bit too mush. Le's get you home."

"'Each sweet co-ed, like a rainbow trail...' Okay, Michael."

He took the monkey from Wills and handed it off to a fraternity brother,
then gave Wills his jacket. Wills kept missing the arm hole and struggled
for a few minutes to get his arm into it.

Finally Shaw gave him a hand. "Here y' go, Willie Boy." He slung his arm
around Wills' shoulder, and the four of us, Wills and me, Shaw and Versace,
went staggering across campus. Michael Shaw was also feeling no pain.

They helped each other up the stairs. Shaw mumbled, "'m so wasted, man!"
and for a second I thought he was going to throw up all over me, but
instead he tumbled face first across Wills' bed. "Timber!" he chortled
drunkenly as he dragged us down with him.

Wills was already sound asleep by the time his head hit the bedspread, but
apparently his friend Michael Shaw wasn't as drunk as he'd let on. He
rolled Wills over, undid the buttons of my fly, and reach in to fondle
Wills' dick.

"Like that," Wills mumbled, "feels good," before lapsing into
unconsciousness again.

"I love you, Wills," he whispered, then the alcohol did get to him, and he
passed out with his cheek on my opened fly.

****

A few hours later, Michael woke Wills up with the first blow-job he'd ever
had by someone who knew what he was doing. He didn't bite, he didn't gag,
and he wasn't tentative. Wills thrust up into the wet heat of his friend's
mouth and moaned.

"Shhh!" Shaw hissed, pulling off his friend's dick. He covered Wills' lips
with his hand, mashing them against his mouth. "You'll wake up the whole
house!"

He went back to sucking him off, and Wills struggled to keep quiet. He was
too far gone to realize that when he came, Shaw didn't swallow, but instead
let his come shoot all over me.

Wills took a second to catch his breath, then worked his way down Shaw's
body, freed his dick, and went down on his friend.

When it was over, when Wills had sucked Shaw to his own orgasm, Shaw
muttered something about being pretty fucking drunk.

"So was I," Wills agreed in drowsy satiation.

"And if my girlfriend had been here instead of you, I would have boinked
her brains out."

Wills was too hammered to decipher the nuances of his friend's tone of
voice. "Boinked, Michael? We're college men. We don't boink. We fuck."

"Oh, okay. I would have fucked her brains out."

But I wasn't hammered. When Wills responded with, "Sounds good to me,"
utterly unconcerned with Michael Shaw's sex life, his friend's face
tightened.

Wills' cradled the pillow in his arms. His lashes fanned over his cheeks
and a breath sighed out. He was asleep once more.

Shaw pushed himself up off the bed, not bothering to tuck his dick in his
designer jeans. "Why couldn't you have been jealous, Wills?" he whispered,
and I was startled by the pain in his voice. "Why couldn't you have said,
'Forget about Crystal, I'm better for you!'"

"Y' say somethin', Michael?"

"No! I..." There was something like panic on Shaw's face, until he saw that
Wills hadn't really wakened. "I do love you, Wills."

I wondered how Michael Shaw defined love.

****

When I was in the laundry basket, or just in the drawer or lying over the
back of a chair, waiting to be worn again, the other pants, the casuals of
Ralph Lauren, the dress trousers of Brooks Brothers, the Lee twills from
Sears, kept me informed, and they promised me that nothing happened between
the two men.

I began to relax. Maybe I'd imagined the yearning in Michael Shaw' words.

I relaxed too soon.

"Hey, Wills. You're wearing your 501s. I like these jeans on
you. Listen. It's Saturday night. Let's get stoned."

Wills had laughed and agreed, and at the end of the night, they wound up in
bed again, waking up to mutual hand-jobs.

"Hey, Wills! Put on your 501s! There's a new place in town that has a
really hot trio playing. Let's hit the road, Jack!"

That time Shaw lost his way trying to find the men's room. Wills went
looking for him, and when he found him, in the back alley, behind a
dumpster, Shaw crowded him against the wall, got me open, and went to his
knees, nipping, licking, and finally sucking.

"Jesus, Michael! Jesus!" Wills came, and sagged against the wall, held up
only by his friend leaning against his legs.

"It's these jeans' fault, Wills. I see you in them and all I want to do is
blow you!"

Wills groaned. "We're gonna get caught."

Shaw laughed and wiped his hand on Wills' thigh. "Let's go home,
then. It'll be your turn to go down on me."

That was when it hit me, and I couldn't understand why I hadn't noticed the
pattern before. Every time Wills wore me, Shaw would decide they should go
out drinking, or party in their rooms with a few joints.

Always, at some point during the night, or the early morning hours, there
would be hand- jobs or blow-jobs.

Usually I wound up down around Wills' knees or ankles, although sometimes
Shaw couldn't wait and just opened my buttons and took Wills' dick into his
mouth. Did Wills ever realize that Shaw never swallowed, never made an
attempt to sample the taste of Wills' come on his hands?

I couldn't help being aware of how much Wills enjoyed what he and his
friend did, enjoyed it more than anything he'd done with a girl.

And I couldn't help worrying that one night soon, Wills would beg Michael
Shaw to fuck him.

****

Finals week came and went, and spring semester was over.

Wills was packing to go home for the summer. He was wearing me.

"How about a drink for the road, Willie Boy?" Shaw was lounging in the
doorway, his eyes on me, brooding. For the last few days he had been
distant.

"I don't think so, Michael. It's way too early."

"How about a drag?"

"No, thanks."

"Afraid Daddy will smell it on your jeans and spank?" The way he said that
made it clear, to me at least, that marijuana smoke wasn't what he was
talking about.

"Michael..." Abruptly Wills strode to the door and grabbed Shaw's face in
his two hands, studying his eyes intently.

Wills was going to kiss Shaw, I could tell. He was tired of waiting for
Shaw to make the first move. He was going to kiss him.

This was something else they had never done. I was sure that if his friend
had ever evidenced any desire to kiss him, Wills would have been more than
happy to oblige. He loved kissing, and was careful not to get too rough
with the girls he dated.

Maybe that was the problem. He was always careful. I wondered if that was
why he enjoyed what he and Shaw had together, whatever that was. He didn't
have to be careful.

But his friend turned his face aside, and the kiss landed on Shaw's
cheek. Wills...

He dropped his arms and stepped back. "My mistake."

Shaw stared into Wills' eyes, then gave a short laugh and turned to leave
the room with a negligent, "See you in September, Willie Boy," tossed over
his shoulder.

Wills gazed at the empty doorway for a moment. He walked to the window and
watched Shaw leave the frat house and jog down the walkway and across the
grassy square to meet a young woman.

He recognized her. "What the fuck? I thought Michael wasn't dating Crystal
anymore."

She threw herself into Shaw's arms, and Wills watched.

He watched as his friend caught her up and kissed her.

And he watched as Shaw looked up at the window where Wills was standing,
met his eyes, and just... looked.

~Summer 1996~

The drive home in the old, tank-like Buick his father had deemed a
safe-enough vehicle for his first born was spent holding a one-sided
conversation with himself.

"Michael kissed Crystal. He never kissed me.

"Michael fucked Crystal. He never fucked me.

"Okay, Matheson, what does this tell you?

"Fuck if I know."

He sighed. He was too realistic; he knew lying to himself would only result
in misery. "It tells me that Michael was only experimenting. He didn't mean
anything, and if you try to convince yourself otherwise, Matheson, you're a
poor, pathetic dope. Among other things.

"That must be why Michael's been so cool to me lately. He thinks I'll read
more into this than there really is."

His friend had simply wanted a temporary fuck buddy, he'd had him, and that
was that.

"Okay, that makes sense, that's Michael. So. How do we handle this?" He
mulled that over in silence for a bit, then sighed again. "We let Michael
think we were experimenting too, but we've got it out of our system and
there won't be any more of that.

"There *won't*. He didn't break my heart, but...

"Damn, Michael. We really could have had something special together."

But it was definitely over. Wills had too much self-respect to let his
friend use him like that again.

By the time Wills'd turned his Skylark into the driveway of the big house
in Cambridge, he'd accepted that this was as far as it would go.

****

Wills spent that first week at home regrouping from the various stresses of
the school year. He amused Marti by taking her around the neighborhood on
her push-pull bicycle, and he played ball with JR and his friends.

And he pushed the intimate times he had spent with Michael Shaw out of his
mind whenever they showed a tendency to pop up.

"Sweetie."

"Yes, Jill?"

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Wills, I've known you since you were five. I can read you pretty well
after all this time."

She could. Wills knew there was no use pretending he didn't have something
weighing heavy on his mind.

"It's Michael, Jill. He's ..." Wills bit off the rest of what had been on
the tip of his tongue. He wasn't about to tell his stepmother that he'd
been inches away from doing something really stupid: falling in love with
his best friend.

Wills was nothing if not pragmatic; if Michael Shaw had ever taken that
final step, had ever made love to him, Wills knew he would have fallen
hopelessly in love with him. He also knew Michael well enough to know it
would have been hopeless.

"Poor boy," Jill was saying. "He just can't believe that people will like
him if he gives them half a chance to know him." She had known Michael Shaw
as long as her stepson, although not as well. "We haven't seen him in so
long. It would have been nice if he'd come up for a visit. What were his
plans for this summer?"

"He's got a job lined up somewhere."

"He didn't tell you where? Odd. He always told you everything."

That was something else that had changed, and Wills wasn't going to reveal
how much he was hurt by the distance between them. He shrugged. "He doesn't
much care what he does, as long as it isn't working for his father's
brokerage firm."

"I'm just glad you and your father never went through a period like that."

"As if you'd have let us! The one time I tried giving Dad the silent
treatment, you insisted on sitting us down for a meal that you prepared."

"I knew one of my specialties would get the two of you talking. That
reminds me. Your Uncle Jake wants to know if you're interested in working
for him again this summer? He's got a project out in Port Jeff."

"On Long Island? That sounds great. I'll get packed. Am I flying or
driving?"

"Driving. Your father mentioned something about wanting to visit the old
stomping grounds. I imagine Uncle Jake will persuade him to pick up a
hammer while he's there, to keep his hand in, and he'll spend the summer
having a high old time."

"Will you come too, Jill?"

"Not this time, sweetie. The community college is offering an evening
course in French haute cuisine, and Alice has volunteered to stay late on
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to mind Marti and Jar for me. You'll be
home in time for your birthday, won't you?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Of course you are, sweetie." Her smile was indulgent. "When you and your
father get back, I'll prepare a huge meal and demonstrate what I've
learned. How do champignons and escargots sound?"

"Oh... er... "

"Son!"

"Hi, Dad." Wills let out a relieved breath. His stepmother could not cook,
in spite of the classes she took and her collection of cookbooks, and he
shuddered to think what she would do with mushrooms and snails.

"I just spoke with Uncle Jake. He'll be putting us up in the Huntington
house. Get packed. I want to be on the road in half an hour."

"Gotcha." He ran up to his room and efficiently packed his work clothes,
boots, and tool belt. Hardhats would be provided on the job. He was back
well within the allotted time.

"Here, take these cassettes to listen to. They'll help pass the time." Jill
handed a stack of jewel cases to Wills, and he juggled them to keep them
from spilling all over the floor.

"No Metallica or AC/DC?" he teased.

"I can still give you Dad's Best of the Ohio Express."

"Hey, I like 'Down at Lulu's'!"

"Scamp." She swatted his butt, then turned to her husband. "Jack, you've
already said good-bye to Marti and JR? You'll call as soon as you get to
Jake's house? You'll drive carefully, and you'll be careful at the work
site when you get there? Keep an eye on Wills! And remember, watch out for
those Long Island girls. They're man-eaters!"

"Jill, you were a Long Island girl."

"I know. That's why I'm telling you to watch out for them!"

"Jilly," he pulled her into his arms and interspersed each sentence with a
kiss, "I'll call every night. I'll drive carefully. I'll be careful on the
job. I'll make sure Wills is careful, too."

"I'm going to miss you so much." She sniffled. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you too, my own sweet girl."

Wills coughed. "Uh, Dad, you want me to wait in the car?"

His father laughed. "I'll be home on the weekend, Jilly."

"Can you do that, Dad?"

"Sure I can. I'm in tight with the boss." He kissed his wife one last
time. "Bye, sweet. Wills, let's move it."

"Moving it, Dad. See you at the end of the summer, Jill."

Six hours later, having listened to the soundtrack of Little Shop of
Horrors, Elton John's Greatest Hits, The Temptations Sing Smokey, Meat
Loaf's Bat Out of Hell and Back Into Hell, and Destroyer and Love Gun, both
by KISS, they arrived at Jake Matheson's house on the North Shore and
settled in.

The first morning, Wills met his cousin Harry in the kitchen. Harry'd
already had his usual breakfast, which consisted of a large coffee, very
sweet and very light.

"Where's my dad?" Wills put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster and
poured a cup of coffee while he waited.

"He's driving in with my dad." Harry stared at him thoughtfully. "Those are
seriously hot jeans you're wearing, cuz!"

"What are you talking about? You've seen these before. Haven't you?" He
buttered the toast and bit off a corner.

"I don't think so. I remember stuff like that." Harry gave him an innocent
grin. "Y'know, if I was a girl I'd be all over you now!"

"Are you fucking nuts?"

Harry started laughing. "C'mon, cuz! Let's get going!"

Wills took a last gulp of coffee and grabbed his tool belt. They trotted
out to the dilapidated Nova his cousin drove.

"Had you going, didn't I?"

"Don't yank my chain, man!" Wills griped as he got in the passenger
seat. "If you knew what happened whenever I wore these jeans at school..."

"Oh, yeah? You got your bones jumped? Tell 'Uncle' Harry all about it!"

"Asshole. Drive!" But he was smiling. He proceeded to tell his cousin about
some of our experiences, although not the ones with Michael Shaw.

It wasn't until they reached the job site that I actually met the tool
belt, which he'd had since high school, when he'd first started working for
his uncle's construction company. I'd been aware of him, lying on the seat
beside my thigh, but I'd been hesitant to say anything to him.

The tool belt was a buff yellow leather, worn almost cream in some spots,
hand stitched, with pockets, pouches, a tool holster, and loops of metal as
well as black mesh to hold screwdrivers, Allen wrenches, hammers. His name
was branded into the inside of the leather that formed his belt: Davis.

Wills got out of the car, buckled him on, and went to work.

I liked the weight of the tool belt on me, the way he felt.

I found myself looking forward to mornings, when Wills would dress, have a
quick breakfast, then slip the belt around his waist and settle him over
our hips.

The tools he carried caused him to rub against me constantly, and the
material of my thighs became worn.

I liked being marked by him, also.

And when the patched 505s took my place while I was in the laundry, I found
that I didn't mind that he would be worn by Wills, but that he would be
under Davis, and didn't it make my blue jeans green?

//Don't be jealous,// 505 said one day when we were both in the hamper at
the same time.

//I don't know what you're talking about,// I responded as coolly as I
could. After all, they had known each other for a long time.

//Davis and I are just friends. He's never looked twice at me, and I don't
have a problem with that, 501. It's all right.//

//How could it be all right? How could you not want him? He's so...// I
lost myself in the wonder of what the tool belt was.

//Well, *you* may think he's 'so...', but the boots are the ones who've
always done it for me. They have a way of caressing my cuffs...// There was
such heat in his voice.

I wanted what 505 had, and I wanted it with Davis.

//I wish you well, 501. And I hope you'll be as happy with Davis as I've
been with Timberland L&R.//

But I was too shy to say anything to Davis. After all, he was older, more
experienced. I relished the feel of him around me, and I persuaded myself
that I could be content with that.

Until Wills' last day on the job. He was running late that morning.

"Hurry it up, Wills!" Harry yelled from the side door. "Geez, Dad's gonna
be pissed! He's got that business agent from the tin knockers coming to
check over the work that was done!"

"Hold your horses, I'm coming!" Wills hopped from one foot to the other as
he put me on, right from the dryer, and then buckled his tool belt, grabbed
his work boots and a frosted blueberry Pop Tart, and ran for the Nova.

"Sorry," Wills mumbled around a bite of the Pop Tart. "I didn't get to bed
until late last night." He leaned forward and turned on the radio.

"Oh?"

//Hey. Psst. 501.//

**It is the evening of the day...**

Wills shifted as I inadvertently tensed around him.

//Davis?//

His low voice was like a palm over my fly. //I like being around you when
you're right from the dryer, 501. You're... hot.//

I couldn't catch my breath. This was the first time Davis had spoken to me,
outside of work-related issues.

**Smiling faces I can see, but not for me...**

//Th - thank you.// I didn't know what to say that wouldn't make me sound
like a fool. I brought my attention back to the conversation.

"Do me a favor and get that look off your face, you dirty old man. Nothing
happened."

"Well," dubious, "I guess Brynn will be happy to hear that." Harry's
girlfriend had set Wills up with a friend of hers. I'd heard the story from
the Ralph Lauren casuals he'd worn. "You were going to see a movie, weren't
you?"

"Yeah, and before you ask, the Multiplex doesn't have a balcony to make out
in. I don't think I could have, even if it did."

"How come? Mandy's cute."

"Yeah, but I want to tell you something: never date anyone named for a
Barry Manilow song."

"Do I want to hear about this?"

"You're damn well going to! This was all your fault. Or Brynn's fault,
which is the same thing. I wanted to see 'From Dusk Till Dawn'. Mandy has a
thing for George Clooney, and she was cool with that until she realized it
was a vampire movie."

"Did you see the trailer showing that tattoo on his neck? *I'd* have a
thing for George Clooney!"

Wills choked on his Pop Tart, and Harry, one hand on the steering wheel,
pounded his back.

"Uh... went down the wrong pipe."

"So what did you see?"

"'First Kid'. I like Sinbad, but geez, Harry!"

"Bummer. What about afterwards? How far did you get? Second base? Third
base?"

"Are you kidding? We went to Carvel for a couple of sundaes, she said she
had to be home early because she had a job interview tomorrow... *today*,
and I drove her home. I was lucky I got a goodnight kiss."

After I'd heard that from the Blass casuals, I'd been willing to bet that
if he'd worn me, if he hadn't reached home plate, he would have at least
rounded third!

"Sucks, man." But Harry didn't ask Wills why, if he'd made an early night
of it, he hadn't gotten to bed until late. He probably figured that,
frustrated, Wills had spent the time beating off.

Actually, he had, but the name he'd groaned when he came hadn't been Mandy
or any female name, and he'd spent hours worrying about it.

"The Stones, everybody, As Tears Go By!" the morning disk jockey of the
oldies station announced enthusiastically.

"It's too early in the morning for the Rolling Stones," Harry groaned. "Do
me a favor and shut that off. I have to talk to you about something."

Wills leaned forward and snapped off the radio. "What's up, Harry? You
sound nervous."

"Dad's taking us out for beers after the B.A. leaves. Since you and Uncle
Jack will be going back to Cambridge tomorrow, he wants to have a little
party."

"Are you guys coming up for Labor Day?"

"Not this year, cuz. But... uh... I want you back here during the Christmas
break."

"That's gonna be..."

"Brynn and I are getting married, and I want you to be my best man."

"Are you serious?" Harry nodded, not taking his eyes from the
road. "Congratulations!" Wills lightly punched his shoulder. "And thanks,
man. I'm touched. That's one of the best birthday presents I've ever had!"

"Uh... isn't your birthday the end of the month, Wills?"

"So it's a week early. It's still one of the best presents I've ever had!
How come Dad hasn't said anything to me about the wedding?"

"No one else knows yet. I still have to tell my own dad. It's just gonna be
a small ceremony at Brynn's home. Her mom's a Unitarian minister, and Brynn
said she'll marry us."

"Cool. That is so cool!" Wills did some rapid calculations. "Wait a
minute. Small and our family do not go together!"

Harry laughed. "I know what you mean."

They continued discussing the wedding.

//501. Timberland L&R and 505 are throwing a shindig later tonight, when
the guys have gone out for a beer. Want to go with me? As my... date?//

//Yessss!// If I had cheeks, I would have been blushing. That was so gauche
of me. //Yes, thank you for asking me, that would be quite nice.//

//Ah, 501, you've been hanging with Brooks Brothers too much. I'll loosen
you up.//

Wills shifted, and I knew it had to be because of his movement, but it felt
as if Davis tightened around me.

The buttons on my fly began to tingle, and I waited impatiently for the day
to draw to a close, for once not conscious of the body I encased.

After work, Wills and his cousin were in a rush to meet with the elder
Mathesons. Once home, Wills unbuckled his tool belt, toed off his work
boots, undid my buttons, yanked his tee shirt over his head, and left us
all lying on the floor while he showered and shaved.

The wait until he left seemed endless, but finally we were alone. The tee
shirt, with no partner, sulked in the corner, and Timberland L&R were too
involved playing with 505's legs to pay any heed to what Davis and I were
doing.

I was inexperienced in the ways of love between clothing, but by the end of
that night, I was his, waist and legs. I went to sleep entwined in him,
surrounded by the heady aroma of his leather and our love.

The next morning, Wills placed Davis and Timberland L&R in a separate
bag. 505 was in another duffle with shirts and underwear, and he wore me.

"I'll drive this first stretch," his father told him, and got behind the
wheel.

"Okay, Dad."

"You hung-over, son?"

"Nah. I limited myself to just a few Coors."

"Smart boy. You seemed to be having a good time."

"Yeah. It's always fun with the cousins."

"I thought you might have gone home with the bartender. She really seemed
taken with you."

"She really wasn't my type."

"A green-eyed blonde with tits out to there?"

"Geez, Dad!"

"So... uh... what is your type, son?"

"Redheads, Dad. I have a weakness for auburn hair. Just like my old man."

The elder Matheson laughed and relaxed, and they drove on for a time in
companionable silence.

"Breakfast?"

"Good idea."

"What do you think of your cousin getting married, Wills?" His dad pulled
into a diner off the New England Throughway.

"I wasn't expecting Harry to get married so soon. He's only a few months
older than I am!"

"This is true. What do you feel like ordering?"

Wills glanced at the menu, then closed it and smiled at the
waitress. "O.J., three eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns, and whole wheat
toast. And coffee."

"That sounds good. I'll have the same," his father said. "Just keep the
coffee coming." He waited until the waitress left, then continued, "No, I
meant what do you think of him marrying Brynn?"

"Why would I think about it one way or the other, Dad?"

"Harry did shoot you in the ass because of her."

"I'm never gonna live that down, am I? I like Brynn. She's a nice
girl. Woman. She's a little older than Harry, but if it doesn't matter to
him, then it certainly doesn't matter to me."

"So you're okay with the marriage?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"Yes." The waitress placed their coffee cups down in front of them and left
to see to her other tables. "It was just... something last night. A time or
two I thought you looked... I don't know... sad?"

"Nothing gets by you, does it, Dad? I'll admit I'm a little envious. I
don't want to settle down now. I mean, I'll be twenty-one next week. But
one day... I hope I can find what you and Jill have. What it looks like
Harry and Brynn have. I really want that."

Wills licked his lips nervously, and I wondered if he was thinking of
having that with a girl, or with a guy. I'd been lying over a chair near
his bed, and I knew his sleep had been restless. Most nights he would fist
his dick until he finally arched and came, stuffing the pillow over his
face and biting it to muffle his moaned, 'Fuck me!'

"I was lucky, son. I found that twice in my life." His father's eyes were
on the small jukebox that sat on the far end of the table. He fished a
couple of quarters from his pocket and dropped them into the machine. "An
oldie, but a goodie."

**My eyes adored you, though I never laid a hand on you, my eyes adored
you...**

Wills sighed. Then the waitress brought their breakfast, and the
conversation shifted to Wills' upcoming birthday, the courses he was taking
that year, what he intended to do after graduation.

Once we were back at home, Wills emptied his duffle into the laundry
hamper. I watched regretfully as he put Davis away for the school semester,
along with Timberland L&R. If I'd had a heart, it would have been
aching. It would be such a long time until I saw my lover again.

Wills stripped out of me, and I went into the hamper as well.

When I came out of the dryer, this time I was folded neatly and placed in
the bottom drawer of the dresser in Wills' bedroom in Cambridge.

And when Wills returned to college, it was with the olive green cargo pants
that Jill had given him for his birthday, and not me.

Part 3

If I had fingernails I would have gnawed them to the quick, worrying about
Wills becoming a target for every predatory female and male on
campus. Before he was packed, I managed to have a word with Cargo.

//You take good care of him, you hear me?//

I was grim and intent, and the cargo pants cringed away from me. I'd spent
the summer at various constructions jobs and no longer looked like a
happy-go-lucky pair of jeans. I was a man's jeans now.

//I'll do what I can to keep him safe, I promise.//

//You'd better, or I'll tear off your zipper and stuff it down your
waist!// I could hear muffled laughter from the closet where the work boots
and the tool belt had been stored.

//You're... you're so masterful, 501!// Cargo slid a leg toward mine.

//Excuse me?//

There was banging coming from the closet. //Get away from him, you
multi-pocketed, zipper-legged, little ...//

Cargo cringed away. //Who is that?//

//That's Davis, my lover. He doesn't share. Now get back on your side of
the drawer and come up with a plan that will keep Wills out of trouble.//

//Ye... yes, sir.//

Wow. None of the pants had ever displayed this manner toward me
before. //And remember, I'm going to want a complete rundown when you come
home for Christmas.//

//Yes, sir!// If he had hands, he would have saluted.

~Winter Break~

With the excitement of Harry's wedding, it wasn't until a week or so after
Christmas that Wills' got around to washing his clothes and putting the
cargo pants in the drawer with me.

I almost jumped all over him. //All right, what happened? Tell me!//

//Nothing.// Cargo sounded disgruntled. //Geez, I thought there would be
some excitement, but all Wills did was study.//

//What? That's *all*?//

//Well, he dated some girls, but... Listen, what's up with that friend of
his?//

//Michael Shaw?// Please don't tell me Wills tumbled back into bed with
him!

//Yeah, he's the one. Moody bastard. He tried to get Wills to go out
drinking with him.//

//And?//

//Wills told him he'd cut back on his drinking.//

I breathed out a sigh of relief.

//He also told him he'd left you home. Shaw wasn't happy, let me tell you,
and those Versaces of his were particularly snooty!// I
remembered. //Anyway, Shaw spent a lost weekend early in the semester, then
cursed out Wills for making a big deal about it. If it was me, I'd have
kicked his sorry ass all over the room, but Wills just asked him if he'd
run into an old girlfriend, or if his father had been giving him grief.//

//That's our Wills, Cargo. He considers Shaw his friend.//

Cargo looked bewildered. //Shaw is a shit, all the clothes say so!//

//Doesn't matter what anyone says. So they haven't been going out partying
every weekend?//

//No.//

//And the girls?//

//He's had a new one every week!//

//A real stud, huh?//

//I don't know about that, 501. Just between the two of us... he doesn't
take any of them to bed!//

//And you blabbed about that?// I lunged for the cargo pants, and he
squeaked.

//I haven't told anyone else, I swear!//

//See that you don't!//

Cargo kept a wary distance, and a few days later returned to college with
Wills.

I had the rest of the winter to ponder Wills' sex life, or lack of it. It
was lonely in that drawer, even with 505 and a couple of cut-offs to share
it with me.

~Spring 1997~

Wills came home again during spring break, the first time he'd done that
since freshman year.

His little sister bounced on the bed while JR sat with his arms wrapped
around his knees, watching the brother he idolized as he unpacked. Wills
caught up on the goings-on of Elmo and Big Bird, and discussed the chances
of the Yankees taking home another pennant.

"Wills," his dad called from the bottom of the stairs, "your old treehouse
needs some repairs. Want to give JR and me a hand?"

"Sure thing, Dad. I'll change and get my tool belt and meet you in the
backyard."

"I get to help, Daddy?"

"Of course, JR It's your treehouse now."

"What about me?"

"Naptime, peanut. Come on, be a good girl. Wills will play with you later,
okay? Now give your brother a chance to change."

JR barreled out of the room, and Marti followed, rubbing her eyes and
protesting she wasn't tired and didn't need a nap.

Wills laughed under his breath. "Damn, it's good to be home."

He took me out of the drawer, and I was thrilled when he put me on. He
rubbed his palms up and down my thighs, then went to the closet and found
the tool belt.

Davis settled around our hips. //I've missed you, 501.// That voice that
stroked my button fly!

//*Davis*!//

Wills went down the stairs and out into the backyard. As he crossed to the
huge oak tree, "Geez..."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't get this tool belt comfortable. It feels like it's constantly
shifting."

I could have told him that it was because Davis couldn't get close enough
to me.

"You lose weight, son?"

"No, it's the same as it's always been."

"Try taking your belt in a notch and see if that helps."

Wills tightened Davis' belt, making both of us very happy.

"Dad, what's with the stockade fence?"

"New neighbors." His father's mouth tightened. "It was the first thing he
did, tear down the post and rail fence the O'Briens had and put up that
monstrosity."

The O'Briens were an older couple who had lived next door for forever,
according to 505. I'd known them for the past few years, and had liked what
I'd seen of them. After Mrs. O'Brien suffered a mild stroke, Mr. O'Brien
had decided life was too short, put the house on the market, and bought an
RV so they could see the country.

They had been the best of neighbors, and the entire Matheson family was
sorry to see them leave.

"This stockade is probably a good thing," Jack Matheson said dubiously,
then, "What do I mean 'probably'? It *is* a good thing. He's got a Pit
Bull. Nasty-tempered brute." Shaking his head, he mounted the circular
staircase that curved around the trunk and led up to the treehouse.

"Hello!" Breathless. Female.

Wills turned to see pale blue eyes peeking over the stockade fence. "Hi."

"I'm Patricia." She had to be in her middle teens. Much too young for
Wills, even if she was a redhead. "You're William, aren't you? I've heard
about you." There was fierce barking. "Quiet, General Custer!"

The back door opened.

"Patricia!"

Wills waited for the older woman to approach the fence to see who her
daughter was speaking with, or to at least call a greeting.

"Don't hang over the fence like a common washerwoman. Come in the house at
once."

"But Mother..."

"At once!" The door slammed shut behind her.

"I have to go, William. It was nice meeting you."

"Bye, Patricia." Wills began to climb the staircase that led up. He didn't
notice the way the girl watched how I clung to his butt as he climbed.

"Glad I wore my sweatshirt," he muttered as he entered the treehouse.

"It did get abruptly chilly, didn't it? Well, you know what they say about
good fences making good neighbors."

"Yeah, but Dad, a stockade? I used to hop over the O'Briens' fence all the
time and help Mrs. Obie with her garden."

"And Jill nearly had heart failure the first time she saw you jump that
fence. The family jewels, Wills!"

"I'd have braved more than that, Dad. She baked the best cookies."

"She gave them to me, too!" JR looked amazed that his older brother, who he
was sure could walk on water, could have done the same mundane things that
he had.

"Did she ever make you Boom Booms?"

"Brownies like the ones from Rosie's Bakery? With the cream cheese in
them?"

"The very same! We gave her The Cookie Book for Christmas a few years
back."

"We did?"

Wills ruffled his hair. "I put all our names on it, Jar."

"Alice has one too! She said she's making Boom Booms 'cause you're home,
Wills!"

"All right!" He high-fived his younger brother.

Their father was watching with a small smile. "What do you say we get
started?"

"Okay, Daddy." This was the first time that JR had been invited to join
them. "What should I do?"

"Do you think you can caulk that corner?"

"I remember how you showed me." The youngest Matheson male took a caulking
gun and went to work while Wills and his dad saw to the other repairs, the
new neighbors forgotten.

"How has college been going?"

"It's been fine, Dad."

"Have you given any more thought to what you'll do after you graduate?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking of accepting the offer from Bradenhurst. The salary is
good, there's a decent benefit package, and the prospect of advancement is
promising. Plus I'd be working out of their Boston office. I could come see
everyone a few times a month."

"I'm sure Jill will try to persuade you to commute from here."

"Uh, Dad, that's a sweet offer, but will you be hurt if I turn it down?
I've got my eye on an apartment in Medford that will be available right
after graduation."

"Not at all, son. As a matter of fact, I've been planning on turning your
room into an exercise room. You know, weights, treadmill, stationary
bicycle."

"So when I come for a visit, I get to sleep on the weight bench?"

"Actually, no. You get to camp out in this treehouse."

"You're going to banish your firstborn to the wilds of nature?"

"Yes." There was a beat, and then they both burst into laughter. "What will
Michael be doing?"

If I'd had ears they would have perked up. I waited to hear first-hand
about Michael Shaw.

"He's said something about joining Bradenhurst too."

"That's wonderful! Matheson and Shaw, together again! Will he be sharing
that apartment with you?"

"No. He's ... No, Dad."

His father saw the desolate look on his face and became still. "You were
friends for a long time."

"Nothing lasts forever. He's found new friends."

I tensed, and Davis shifted. //Stop it, 501!// he whispered as Wills paused
to adjust him.

//Sorry. It's just... That Michael Shaw makes me so angry I want to tie his
jeans in knots!//

//Whoa, baby! You're hot when you lose your temper! You. Me. Tonight, after
Wills goes to bed! And stop that! If you make me shift once more, he's
going to get suspicious!//

//Yes, Davis.//

//You're loving this, aren't you?//

//It's been so long.//

Davis tightened around me.

"Wills?"

"It's not a big deal. Please, Dad?"

"It is a big deal, but all right, son."

Wills and his dad continued to work, the silence broken by the shrill of
the battery-powered drill Wills used to tighten screws that had loosened
over the winter. His father replaced a couple of the boards that seemed to
have sustained weather damage.

"Are you still seeing... What was her name? The redhead?"

"Which redhead?" Wills smiled, and I could see the tension ease from his
father's shoulders. "There've been six of 'em since the New Year."

"That's my boy!"

"Am I your boy too, Dad?" JR looked over his shoulder.

"Of course you are, Jar." He ruffled the boy's hair. "And if you're done,
let's go in and get washed up. I hear Alice calling us for dinner."

****

I missed dinner that night, but since Wills had placed Davis over the back
of his desk chair, and since he'd placed me over Davis, I didn't mind at
all. We had those evening hours together. And it was wonderful.

When spring break was over, I was left behind, again in that bottom
drawer. Time passed slowly, but I had that night to dream over.

After graduation, he returned home long enough to touch base with his
family. Through the clothesline I learned that Wills had accepted the job
offered by the Bradenhurst Corporation.

Wills packed suits, computer manuals, a few textbooks, his favorite CDs,
and moved to the small, furnished studio apartment in Medford.

He didn't take me, but since he didn't take Davis either, I was willing to
make the best of it. At least we were in the same room.

As soon as he was settled in, he invited the family for dinner.

When I heard the happy, excited shouts of his brother and sister, "We're
gonna see Wills! We're gonna see Wills!" I regretted that I wouldn't be
able to go also, although I did get to hear all about it when they returned
home. They were quite... audible, even to a pair of jeans in a bottom
drawer.

"The landlord calls this a homey little efficiency."

"Homely is right!" Jill muttered as she glowered at the worn couch that
pulled out into a bed and wrinkled her nose at the musty smell that even a
fresh coat of paint couldn't overcome.

"Jill, it's fine for now."

"Are you sure you don't want to move back home? We have all those
rooms. Your father really isn't going to make a gym out of your bedroom."

"Mom! It's got drawers built right into the walls! Look!"

"Yeah, Mom," Wills snickered. "How could I turn my back on drawers built
into the walls?"

Jill frowned at him, then spoiled it by laughing.

He kissed her cheek. "Let's eat."

There was a table in the kitchen area, and the five of them squeezed around
it. Wills served a rotisserie grilled chicken with the usual side dishes,
biscuits, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a spinach salad.

"Sweetie, this is wonderful! I knew you'd have to pick up some cooking
skills from me!"

He didn't smile although his eyes were warm with laughter. "Thanks, Jill,
but this is from the prepared food department of Bread and Circus. Mostly I
stick with frozen dinners."

"What a clever lad!"

"This is such a cool place, Wills! Can I come live with you?"

"That wouldn't be a good idea, Jar. I don't usually get home until late."

"That's okay, I wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, but who'd cook dinner for you?"

"Oh, yeah. That would be a problem."

"I tell you what. I won't get any vacation time until around Christmas. If
it's okay with the 'rents, you can spend a few days when I have some time
off."

"Me, too! Me, too!"

"There really isn't much room here, Marti," Jill objected.

"I can bring my Barbie sleeping bag!"

"I think you've opened a can of worms, son."

"I don't mind, Dad. Now, how about digging in? We don't want everything to
get cold."

****

"Jack!" Jill fretted on their return home. "It's awful! It's small and
dark, the furniture is shabby, there are silverfish in the bathtub, and the
mousetrap in the kitchen had a mouse in it!"

"That's what it was there for, Jilly." He hugged her.

"I wish he'd let you give him the money for some place better! Whatever
rent he's paying, it's too much!"

"It's the first place he's had all on his own, and from what he's said,
Bradenhurst intends to send him around the country troubleshooting their
computer system, so he'll rarely even be there."

"Then why couldn't he stay here at home?"

"He's a man now, Jill. We have to let him go."

"You're right, Jack." Her eyes lit up. "Maybe I could give him one of Mary
Poppins' kittens, the little golden male? At least that would take care of
the mouse problem!"

"I think JR has his heart set on him. Besides, if Wills isn't home all that
much, it wouldn't be fair to any pet. It'll be all right, Jill; *he'll* be
all right. I promise you."

~Winter 1999~

The ache of missing Davis faded but never vanished.

Wills had been working at Bradenhurst for the last year and a half, and
after the first couple of months, he seldom spoke of what he did, saying
with deprecation, "If you've trouble-shot for one computer, you've
trouble-shot for them all."

We did know that he was often sent to various cities, sometimes for as long
as six or eight weeks at a time.

One day, while the rest of the family was away on a ski weekend at
Wachusett Mountain, Wills unlocked the back door of the house in Cambridge
and let himself in.

I was quickly taken from the bottom drawer of his dresser and lain across
his bed, along with a flannel shirt that had a quilted lining for
additional warmth. We were joined by a pair of thick gray socks. He went to
his closet and soon Davis was lying beside me, his belt across my button
fly.

//Hi, babe. It's been a long time!//

//I've missed you!//

It became clear that Wills didn't want his parents knowing what he was
doing. Afterwards I learned that in the unlikely event that they were
questioned about his activities, they could truthfully claim ignorance.

"Good thing this hard hat doesn't have my real name on it." Wills picked it
up and ran pleased fingers over the stenciled 'Twink' on the front of it.

His cousin Harry had given it to him as a graduation present, knowing he
would no longer be working for his uncle's construction company. His
weakness for Hostess Twinkies had been common knowledge and a source of
constant amusement among the cousins.

"And it's lucky I ordered these steel-toed Wolverines." He took the work
boots out of a canvas tool bag that he'd brought along with him. "My
Timberlands really needed to be retired!"

He stripped out of the casual clothes he wore, folded them neatly, and
stored them on a shelf in the back of his closet. He'd retrieve them
another time.

Dressed, Wills looked like any other blue collar worker. He put Davis and
Twink into the canvas tool bag. I got a peek into it and saw that it also
contained a coil of what turned out to be telephone wire and some tools
that I hadn't seen before.

He made sure his wallet was in my front right pocket, grinned at his
reflection in the mirror above his dresser, and smoothed back his hair. "No
imagination, huh? We'll just see about that."

Wills picked up the bag. He gave a quick, final glance around the room and
went downstairs.

Hanging over a kitchen chair was a navy-blue pea coat with whom I was
unfamiliar.

//Ahoy, there! We're gonna have some fun now, ship mates! Wills has been
planning this for a couple of weeks!//

//Is that how long you've been with him?//

//Aye aye. He found me in an Army/Navy store a while back. Seems like a
responsible owner from what I can tell, takes care of his clothes. I like
him.//

For an article of Naval clothing, the coat was surprisingly
smart. //Welcome to our little group. You said he's been planning
something. Do you know what Wills needs us for?//

The pea coat became serious. //Some asshole where he works denied his
promotion. Said he was good enough at this job, but he wouldn't be able to
handle what the big boys in DC would demand.//

//Asshole,// Davis agreed from the tool bag.

//Yeah.//

There was no reason for Wills not to have access to the house, and he
exited as openly as he'd entered. No one would think twice about it.

The neighbors' Pit Bull began to bark, but that dog always barked. It
barked at squirrels, birds, and Mary Poppins and Willie Wonka, Jill's
Bobtail cats, and Wills knew that no one would come out to see what had
disturbed the ill-tempered animal.

A Chevrolet Cavalier was in the driveway. Living in Medford, so close to
public transit and with parking spaces at a premium, it had become
redundant to have his own transportation, and so he had turned in the
Skylark's plates and sold it.

With all the buses and trains running on a holiday schedule, he'd decided
it would be faster to rent a car.

Wills got behind the wheel of the compact car and backed it out of the
driveway. He drove to downtown Boston and showed a job order to the man in
the booth at the entrance of the underground parking facilities provided
for the companies that occupied the building. Once he'd received a day
permit and parked the Cavalier, he took the elevator from the garage to the
first floor.

I had no idea what he was going to do, but he showed ID to the security
guard in the front lobby.

"Electrician, huh? I've been having a problem with the fixture in the entry
hall of my condo..."

"I'm low voltage, pal. Can't help ya about that. If you're havin' problems
with your phone line, now, I'm your man."

Wills had opened his coat and stood with a casual hand on his hip, and I
could feel the guard's eyes fasten on me.

"Uh... " He switched his attention with an effort back to the list of names
with clearance to enter the building that day. "I don't see..."

"Look," Wills tone was bored, "my union rep says I gotta haul ass down
here, there's some kind of problem on sixty-seven. This is a T&M job, time
an' material, pal, an' I'm gettin' paid no matter what, double time an' a
half, 'cause it's Saturday, an' it's a holiday weekend."

"Oh, wait a second! Here's your name. Matt Williams. It was all the way
down on the bottom. Okay," he checked his watch and made a notation beside
the name, "just make sure you check out with me when you're done. I'm Tom,
by the way."

"Nice meetin' ya, Tom. I'll see ya later."  Wills sauntered to the bank of
express elevators and jabbed the 'up' button with his thumb. He glanced
over his shoulder. Tom was staring at his butt.

Wills waited for the guard to raise his eyes, then grinned, winked, and
turned back to wait for the elevator to arrive.  With a soft 'ping', the
doors slid open, and he entered.

//How did he manage that?// the pea coat marveled.

//He graduated with a minor in computers.// I remembered his years at
college. //All I can think is that he must have gotten into a security
computer and programmed it to make sure that name was on the list.//

Wills was whistling through his teeth as the doors shut, and the elevator
started its climb to the sixty-seventh floor and the offices of Bradenhurst
Corporation's Human Resources.

Part 4

"Dad? I got that promotion!"

Wills didn't mention the clandestine visit he'd paid to the office building
on that weekend and the reprogramming he'd done to a specific computer. He
also didn't mention that he'd learned if he hadn't taken that action, he
would never have been given that particular promotion.

Shortly after he was promoted, Wills made the move to Washington, DC.

The apartment he had this time was bland and lacking in personality, but it
was larger than the one in Medford. It consisted of a kitchen, living room
and bedroom, and a small alcove that contained a washer and dryer. Unlike
the apartment in Medford, it was free of rodent and insect visitors.

In a corner of the bedroom was a chest, and that's where we found
ourselves, Davis and me, the Wolverines and Twink, buried under another set
of sheets and a thermal blanket.

That was where we stayed until...

~Spring 2002~

The lid of the chest was opened, and light flooded in as blankets were
picked up and placed carefully aside. Wills had always been careful with
his things.

"I know I kept them... Ah!" He took Davis out of the chest, and suddenly I
was in his hands, and he was stroking over my seams and pewter buttons as
he had the first day we'd met.

"You're gonna be perfect!"

As Wills drew me on over his long legs, I was startled to feel a raised
curl of scar tissue on his calf. What had happened since the last time he'd
worn me?

He did up the buttons of my fly, then stepped into a pair of running shoes
and pulled a Georgetown U. sweatshirt on over his head.

//Davis!// I saw him lying across the foot of the bed and became less
anxious, though I didn't recognize the sweatshirt or the running shoes, and
there wasn't time for introductions just then.

//Hang in there, babe! It'll be okay!//

I wasn't too sure of that when I realized where Wills was taking us. We
weren't doing something macho like drilling a hole in a plank, or
hot-wiring a computer.

We were going shopping!

****

//I'm George.// The Georgetown U. sweatshirt was able to introduce himself
when Wills took a break and bought a pretzel at Auntie Anne's.

//I'm Jordache, and boy, are we getting tired! How much more walking do we
have to do?//

//I'm 501, and you're right. This afternoon seems endless. We must have
been in every store in this mall.//

//Not quite, I don't think,// George said as Wills abruptly tossed the
remains of the pretzel into the trash and moved on. //Say, what did you
think of that tee shirt he picked up? Pocket tees are such bad boys! I
wouldn't mind covering him!//

//You're a slut, George,// the running shoes muttered. //You wouldn't mind
covering anything, including those Champion socks Jill sent down for him in
her last care package!//

//That's kind of sweet, don't you think? His stepmom has no idea what he
does, but she still treats him like he's her little boy.//

'What he does'? He was a troubleshooter for Bradenhurst's computers. At
least, that was what he did in Boston.

//Heads up! Looks like we're going into Sam Goody!//

****

The day was finally over. We were in the train station, waiting for our
train. We were going home.

Wills pulled out a cell phone and made a call. "Matheson, sir. I've
finished shopping." "Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

We were not going home.

****

The building we went to was cool and white, with an antiseptic smell to
it. I'd never been in a hospital before, but I recognized it from 505's
story.

Wills took the stairs to the fourth floor. I wondered why he didn't use the
elevator.

We entered a private room. One of the men ran hot eyes over me and gave a
wolf whistle, and Wills' dick became hard.

What was going on?

****

When we finally did get back home, Wills was humming happily.

I, on the other hand, was in a state of shock.

Wills had not only kissed a man, the one who'd whistled at him, he'd let
this Theo take him back to his apartment and fuck him!

At least I was pretty sure that was what happened. I hadn't actually been
in the bedroom, I didn't actually see it for myself, but what other reason
would they have had for leaving a trail of us behind as they made their way
through the apartment?

Now he toed off the running shoes and removed George and me languidly. He
gave a somewhat embarrassed laugh when he realized he'd left his underwear
behind, and walked into the bathroom, limping slightly. The light snapped
on, followed by the sound of water running in the shower.

//501, what happened?// Davis' voice was muffled. Wills had dropped me on
top of him.

//Oh, Davis, it's bad! It's really bad!//

//Take it easy, babe. Talk to me.//

//After we went through every store in that mall... oh, by the way,// a
sudden thought distracted me momentarily, //the waiter in the restaurant we
stopped in liked me very much!// If I'd had fingernails, I'd have buffed
them on my shoulder. If I'd had a shoulder.

//He was looking at me too, 501,// the Georgetown University sweatshirt
groused.

//In your dreams, George!//

//Oh, yeah?//

//Well, it just so happens...//

//Enough! If you two would stop bickering long enough to tell me what
happened?//

//No one looks at us,// the Jordaches said morosely from where they were
tumbled on the floor. //Even when we were brand new, no one looked at us.//

I sneered at the sweatshirt, but obeyed my lover. //Wills made a phone
call, then went to the hospital to visit. That's where I saw him!//

//Steady, 501! Steady!//

//I could feel Wills' respirations increase,// George interjected.

//Why not just say he was breathless?//

George ignored the Jordaches' comment. //And he was blushing half the
time!//

//Davis,// I said grimly, //a *redhead*! And not only that, from what I
could make out from the conversation, he was a hustler!//

For a second, Davis was stunned into silence. //A *hustler*?//

//Yeah.// It was my turn to be morose. //As in 'my tail's for sale, half a
crown will lay me down.'//

//You articles of apparel are talking about Theo.// This from the closet;
the door was ajar.

//Who're you?//

//Allow me to introduce myself. Glen Plaid. Bill Blass Glen Plaid.// A
British accent that was obviously put on. //My jacket is 38 and has a
center vent back, my trousers are 30W 32L, with a six inch drop waist. I'm
charcoal-gray, single breasted, two-button, 100% wool. There's a hint of
red in my plaid, subtle undertones that are discreetly brought out by the
red tie Wills always knots around his throat when he wears me.//

//Show off,// the Jordaches muttered in their own undertones. //Does he
think he's doing his little turn down the catwalk?//

Bill Blass clearly deemed that unworthy of a response. //I'm the suit he
wears for special occasions. Like that funeral some weeks ago.//

//Whose funeral? Who died? Not one of the family?//

//No. It was...//

//Never mind.// If it wasn't family, I didn't really care. //What do you
know about this Theo person?//

//He's Wills' lover.//

//Maybe it's just a fling, an infatuation?// I asked hopefully.

//I wouldn't count on it. He's found an outlet when he needed the sexual
release, but this is the first time he's even looked at anyone, much less
another man.//

//Oh, no!//

//Oh, yes. And I'd advise getting used to it. Wills was wearing
my... partner, Bill Blass Micro Stripe, the night they met.//

//He doesn't date out of his brand.//

Again, the Jordaches' aside was ignored.

//Mic gave me the whole story; he came home very aggrieved, let me tell
you. He'd spent the night on the floor, and while that carpet might be very
plush and comfortable, it isn't at all what we're used to.//

//Uh... why was he on the floor? Wills is always careful with his
clothing.//

//Yes, except when he isn't. He had other things on his mind that
night. Wills went to bed with him.//

//The first night? He's never done anything like that, not even when he
wore me! Oh, he may have flirted, but he *never*...// Not even with Michael
Shaw. //Please don't tell me...//

//He let Theo fuck him.//

I swore.

//What do you think it means, babe?//

//He's in love with him, Davis. He may not know it, he may not admit it,
but...//

Davis slid his belt around me, holding me tight, and I heaved a sigh.

Wills came out of the bathroom. A towel was knotted at his hip, and he was
running another over his hair. And he looked happy, happier than I'd ever
seen him when he wasn't with his family.

****

It was hard to keep track of time in a chest, but the next time Wills
pulled us out couldn't have been too many days later.

I wondered uneasily if we were going shopping again.

Wills was undressed down to his boxers. He pulled on a black tee shirt that
defined his biceps and pectoral muscles very nicely, then drew me up over
his legs, tucked in the black tee, and buttoned my fly. The pair of work
boots he laced up were the ones he'd last worn when we'd paid Bradenhurst
that clandestine visit.

//Wolverine!//

//Hey, 501! It's been a long time since Wills has worn all of us!//

The edges of my legs brushed over the rolled top of the boots. //He's
wearing all of us?//

I trembled in anticipation, and then Wills settled the tool belt around his
hips.

//Davis!//

//501! Wolverine is right! It's been a long time!// He lowered his
voice. //Though I loved having you on top of me in that chest!//

//If you two don't mind?// The black tee was snippy.

//Jealous?// I taunted.

//As if!//

//Don't tease the boy, 501.//

//Hey! I'm not a boy!//

//You're not? How long have you been out of the wrapper?//

//Uh... well... I don't see where that's important.//

//Of course it isn't.// There was a smile in Davis' voice.

The tee shirt made a snide remark about old tool belts, and I caught his
hem between my buttons and twisted. He yelped.

//501, behave!//

//Or?//

//Or ... I'm sure I'll think of something.//

My button fly tingled, and Wills ran the palm of his hand over it, making
it tingle even more. The three of us shivered.

//Don't mind them, Blackie,// Wolverine told the tee. //They've been
together for a long time. But if you don't have anyone, and wouldn't mind
hooking up with a pair of work boots...?//

//Are the stories I've heard about your kind true?//

//My kind?// Most work boots were some shade of brown. Wolverine wasn't.

//Rugged. Lace-up. Performance leather uppers.//

//Ah. Depends on what it is that you've heard.//

//Something about your tongue?//

//Oh, yes,// amused, //We're quite... gifted.//

"What the...?" Wills had to yank at the tee, which seemed to have tightened
across his nipples. He chuckled. "That's what I get for thinking about
Theo."

He obviously mistook the tee's reaction to one of his own.

He gathered up the tools he would need and put them in the tool bag, then
removed Davis, folded his belt, and laid him on top. "Too bad this job
doesn't require a hard hat."

//You can say that again,// Twink bemoaned from the chest. //I'm gonna want
details!//

Wills threaded his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his palms over our
thighs. It was cool for that time of year, and he reached for a black
leather jacket.

//All right, Blackie, you've been out more than we have. What's up?//

//Wills has someone he wants to impress.//

//Not Michael Shaw.// I could accept Wills with a male lover, but not if it
was his erstwhile friend.

//Shaw? Oh, the one who... No. It's this guy he's been dating. Theo.//

"Okay." His dick was pressing against my button fly.  "Let's show Theo how
we do it back in Cambridge."

The aroused state of his dick indicated, to me at least, that showing Theo
how we did repairs wasn't the only thing he wanted to show him.

Wills swung the tool bag over his shoulder, picked up the keys, and closed
the door behind us. He went down to the underground garage that served his
apartment building.

The car he got us into was a sedan, an all-business, no-nonsense vehicle,
and I thought fleetingly of the Skylark, with its leather bench seat that
molded to our seat, and the engine that he'd souped up so the muffler would
roar whenever the clutch was popped, although he'd always been careful not
to do that when his father was in earshot.

This car's engine purred with restrained power. In spite of its ordinary
looks, I had the feeling that it would be a dangerous adversary. Wills put
it in gear and eased it up the ramp to street level and out into traffic.

It wasn't until he was idling at a light that the car took his attention
from his driving and spoke to us.

//How do you do? I'm The Mighty Dodge.//

//Davis,// //501,// //Wolverine,// we returned his greeting.

The black tee snickered.

//Is there something you find amusing?//

//'The Mighty Dodge'? Who do you think you belong to, Al Bundy?//

//No, kid. I belong to the DSD. You've been living with Matheson how long
now? You should know better than to let appearances fool you.//

The tee shirt was speechless.

//What's the DSD?// I asked.

//The Defense Security Division. Matheson works for them.//

//I thought he worked for Bradenhurst.//

//He did. Now he works for the DSD. He was really proud when I was assigned
to him, you know. I may look like an ordinary Intrepid, but I run on eight
cylinders. Under my hood are five hundred horses. I've got five hundred
twenty-five pound feet of torque and five hundred five cubic inches of
displacement.//

The light changed, and the Dodge fell silent. Wills shifted smoothly into
first, then second, then third. He drove carefully, but he drove the speed
limit. He wanted to get where he was going.

I didn't think the car was going to tell us anything more, but at the next
light he continued as if he'd never stopped.

//I've been where we're going before,// he said. //The first night Matheson
met this guy, we drove him home. And he spent the night with him.//

//That's what Glen Plaid told us.//

//Who? Oh, the gray Bill Blass. Yes. Let me tell you something. I've been
working with Matheson for the last twelve months, and this is the first
time he didn't follow the pattern.//

//Pattern? What pattern?//

//I've driven him to a few 'dates'. They'd have drinks, dinner, find a
hotel room, then he'd go home; it was always the same. He never pretended
it was more than it was, sex plain and simple. This time he didn't follow
the pattern, never mind that it was a guy he hooked up with. And I'll tell
you something else. When he returned from... well, that isn't
important. What is important is that Matheson took this guy out to
dinner. And afterwards, after he drove him home, he stayed the night
again.//

//What do *you* think it means?// I was hoping I'd read the situation
wrong. I wanted Wills to be happy, but if he was choosing this road...

He hesitated a moment, and then the moment was lost.

"Goddammit!" Wills swore. He had braked in front of a building that looked
in need of some refurbishing. "Who the fuck is this son of a bitch who
keeps taking my parking spot?"

If I had hands I would have covered my eyes with them, but somehow Wills
successfully managed to parallel-park in a space that should have been too
small for the Dodge.

"Bastard!" He hurled the epithet at the driver of the foreign car that had
raised his ire.

The Dodge chuckled. //The Mazda's driver will be able to get him out if
he's any good. Otherwise, he's gonna have to come looking for Matheson.//

Still muttering under his breath, Wills grabbed the tool bag and got out of
the Dodge. There was just enough room for him to walk around it to the
sidewalk. He climbed the steps, but before he could press the doorbell the
door was yanked open.

"Hi." It was one of the men I'd seen in the hospital room, the young
blond. "Theo said for you to go on up. Everything's been delivered. He's
busy right now, but he'll join you as soon as he can."

"Thanks, Spike." Wills walked past him. He heard the young man's sudden
intake of breath, but was unaware that it was because he'd got the full
effect of Wills in me. He paused on the first stair and looked over his
shoulder. "You okay?"

"Uh... yeah. I'm good. Nice jeans."

"Thanks."

Spike watched his ass the whole way up the flight of stairs.

****

Wills let the tool bag slide off his shoulder and slung his jacket over a
stool that had been left behind. The apartment smelled musty and closed-in,
and he opened the windows to let in a fresh breeze.

Whistling through his teeth, he fastened Davis around our hips, then went
from room to room tallying up the tasks that would need to get done.

"Okay, first thing, start measuring." He pulled a tape measure from the
tool bag and got down to it.

Soon he was covered in dust and white particles from the sheetrock that
he'd used a hacksaw on, and in spite of the open window, he began to sweat.

I was so wrapped up in the feel of Davis around me once more, of us being
together again, that I lost track of time.

Wills ran his forearm over his forehead. "Done." He stepped back to observe
the finished job.

I was surprised when I felt a hand smooth over our seat.

"Hi, Theo." Wills was not surprised.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Sixth sense?"

"Oh, yeah? All of a sudden you're psychic?" But he sounded as if he was
happy that Wills would know instinctively it was his lover who was touching
him. "It could have been Spike, y'know."

"No. I'd never let anyone else come up behind me like that." He leaned back
against him, arched his neck, and kissed his cheek.

"I love it when you sound dangerous." Theo's hands slid into my back
pockets and cupped Wills' ass. He flexed his fingers.

Wills gave a pleased moan. He'd never done that with Michael Shaw; he'd
never made a sound with Shaw, because his friend didn't like it.

//He's a good man.// The harsh whisper came from the trousers that Theo
wore. I recognized him as Dolce & Gabbana flat front pants. Wills had been
going to buy a pair, but the cost was prohibitive.

//He's a hustler!//

//Not by his own choice. And he's getting out of the business.//

//So he says. I don't know him from Adam! Why should I believe him?//

//Because Wills does, 501,// Davis reminded me, and I deflated.

"Where did these jeans come from?" Theo was nuzzling the spot behind Wills'
left ear.

"I've... I've had them... oh, that feels good, babe! for... forever."

"Why have I never seen you in them?"

"They're work jeans, Theo."

"God, you look hot in them!"

"Theo, I'm a mess!" He brushed self-consciously at the dust from the
sheetrock, pulled his sweat-soaked shirt away from his body. "You can't
want to..."

"You think I can't?" Theo turned him around so they were face to face, then
brought his hands up to frame Wills' cheeks. He urged their mouths
together, and the kiss quickly grew as hot as he said Wills looked in
me. He ran his palms over the black tee. "Your nipples are hard, babe!" His
hips rocked forward, and his dick rubbed against Wills', and he groaned
into Wills' mouth.

Abruptly, hands descended on the buckle of Davis' belt. He was undone and
allowed to drop to the floor.

//Ooof!//

Wills laughed, a husky, excited, happy explosion of mirth as the other man
unbuttoned me and pushed me down off his hips.

Theo pulled something from the pocket of Dolce & Gabbana before pushing him
down to reveal that he was naked under them, except for the condom that
covered his dick.

"You planned this?" Wills let his lover spin him around and bend him over
the stool. He spread his legs as much as he could, and Theo worked the
slick stuff from the tube into his ass.

"I heard you going up the stairs, and I came out of the apartment." He
licked the back of Wills' neck. "I saw you in these jeans, and I got so
hard I'm surprised I didn't break my zipper. I've been hard ever since. I
went back in to get a condom and some lube and... "

"Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you?" But Wills was laughing.

"Blame it on these jeans. After I put the condom on, I just didn't bother
putting my shorts back on. I couldn't resist." He paused. "Do you mind?"

"All I mind is that it's taking you forever to get in me! I'm not cherry,
Theo; fuck me!"

"Not any more, you're not, babe!" There was more than pride in his voice,
and it gave me pause, as did his words.

This man, whatever he had been, had been Wills' first male lover; Wills had
chosen him.

He took care of Wills, petted and stroked and prepared him, made sure he
was out of his mind with lust, shivering and begging, and only then did he
push into him.

Wills cried out, but not from pain. He urged his lover to take him harder,
and the stool rocked under their motions.

Theo came first, the muscles in his buttocks bunching as he slammed into
Wills a final time.

He continued jerking him off, and with a hoarse groan, Wills climaxed,
filling Theo's hand with come.

Something brushed against my leg, my own lover. Davis murmured, //See,
babe. It's okay.//

//You think?// I asked, unable to help the bitterness in my voice. //You
know what will happen now? He'll wipe his hand on me.//

//*You* think? That isn't what he's doing, babe.//

//What?// And I realized...

Theo was lazily licking his palm clean.


~End~