STANDARD WARNING: This is a work of fiction. Any coincidence to individuals, living or dead, is pure coincidence. Do not read this story if you are offended by man-to-man romance or sex. Do not read if you are underage according to the laws in the country, state/province, county, city/town/village or township where you live. There is sex between males. You have been warned!

Paternal Instincts

By archer

Chapter 9 Matt

Tim and Matt were laying on Matt's couch with Tim on top. Matt was feeling pressure from Tim in a physical sense and in an emotional sense. Tim had just asked for a response from Matt. Tell me you love me.

Instead of answering, Matt worked his had between them and grabbed Tim's engorged cock through his flimsy cotton shorts.

"What's this?" Matt asked with a mischievous grin.

"You know what that is."

"Why is he hard?"

"Because of you." Tim smiled as well. As much as he wanted an answer, it could wait a bit longer.

They wrestled on the couch, switching positions, giggling and laughing all the while. Matt pulled down his Zubaz pants and let his cock free. He positioned himself so that his crotch was near Tim's face, placed his hands on the arm of the couch and locked his elbows to prop himself up.

With no further prompting, Tim took Matt's prick in his mouth. Tim's mouth was moist and hot. His tongue drew pleasure from the underside of the glans. Matt looked down, and could see Tim working on his cock, as well as jacking himself. Tim's left hand was on Matt's ass, urging him down toward his waiting mouth.

Matt wanted to see Tim's chest. "Take off your shirt," Matt commanded.

They repositioned themselves so that Tim could slip his shirt off. Tim tossed it on the floor, and they resumed.

Matt's view was enhanced by the vista of Tim's perfect and smooth chest; his pecs like halves of a cantaloupe, and his washboard stomach. Tim's mouth was like a hungry baby bird awaiting a worm. Matt wanted to feed Tim's mouth with desire.

Matt was enjoying the control. He had ordered Tim to take off his shirt and Tim complied. They resumed positions without question. Matt began thrusting his hips foreword, fucking Tim's face. Matt was further stimulated by the fact that he was in control; he had power over this muscleman. He began thrusting his hips faster and faster.

Tim moaned with pleasure. Matt could feel the vibration of Tim's moan on his cock. Matt looked down again and viewed the muscles on his Tim's abdomen tensed so that the washboard effect was enhanced further. He saw his own cock glistening with saliva as it slid in and out of Tim's mouth. With his right hand, Tim was furiously beating his own meat. The image burned into his retinas.

Matt could take it no further. "Tim, I'm gonna cum," Matt panted.

"Oh, yes, yes." Matt's dick spewed all over Tim's forehead and in his hair. Seconds later, Tim released his own load.

"That was excellent," Matt panted. He noticed a droplet of cum hanging from Tim's eyelash like a milky tear. "Hold on." Matt wiped it away.

"You got it in my hair." Tim chuckled. "I wonder if it makes good conditioner. Can't you picture the commercial? `Give your hair shine and luster with new Revlon Semen!'" They both chuckled. "Mind if I take a quick shower?"

"Go right ahead." Tim went to the basement bathroom, while Matt washed himself upstairs. Matt didn't take a shower; he didn't need one. He was pleased with the camaraderie and familiarity that was developing with Tim. Really, Tim didn't even need to ask if he could take a shower.

By the time they met each other on the couch again, it was 9 PM. Monday nights at nine meant one thing to Matt: Northern Exposure. Tim sat up while Matt laid down and placed his head in Tim's lap. He smelled clean from the deodorant soap Matt bought regularly.

"You never did answer my question." Tim said during the opening credits.

"SSHhhhh! This is my favorite show. This is the only show that I absolutely have to watch every week."

"But, Matt, you have a VCR. That's why they were invented."

"I know, but it's not the same as watching it."


Tim gently ran his fingers through Matt's hair. It had been a busy weekend, and Matt was exhausted. Lulled by the comforting feel of Tim's fingertips and the warmth of his lap, Matt dozed off.

He was standing on the main street in Cicely, Alaska. Matt knew that the series was actually filmed in Washington State, but all the cars and pickup trucks had Alaska license plates. The air smelled clean and the breeze had a pine scent to it. To his right was the office of Dr. Fleischman. The sign read Northwestern Mining Company on the light blue building. Matt was curious to see if interior of the real building looked anything like the set.

To his astonishment, Marilyn was sitting behind the desk knitting. "The doctor will be with you in a minute, Matt," she said in her monotone voice. And how had she known Matt's name?

Matt glanced around the building. It looked even shabbier in real life. The paint on the walls was peeling and the floor needed to be swept. Joel poked his head around the corner.

"Oh, hi, Matt. Come in have have a seat." Matt seated himself on the examination table while Joel washed his hands.

"That damn O'Connell is driving me crazy. The cabin I'm renting from her is a hellhole. The toilet needs to be fixed again." Joel inserted a thermometer in Matt's ear and took a reading.

"That's normal. Anyway, when I asked her to come and fix it, she told me to fix it myself. Roll up your sleeve, please." Matt did as he was told and Joel slid the blood pressure cuff over his bicep. Joel was silent while he listened to his stethoscope.

"Blood pressure's a little high, but nothing to be alarmed about. Try to lay off the salt." Joel paused and looked concerned. "Everything is fine, Matt. Why are you here?"

"I'm not sure."

"Are you having any other symptoms?"

"Uh, sleeplessness, anxiety."

"You know I'm not a psychologist, Matt. Does it have something to do with Tim?"

Matt's jaw almost hit the floor. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"Well, you two are quite an item. Ruth Ann told me the other day what a nice couple you two boys were. If something is wrong between you two, you need to talk to him about it. Get it out in the open." Joel glanced at his watch. "I gotta run. Maurice wants to see me. Physically you are fine, Matt. Just sit Tim down and have a talk with him."

Matt floated down the sidewalk. His eyes were cameras recording every building, person and vehicle. He wanted to remember the shadows, distances, angles and colors. By the angle and intensity of the sun, Matt guessed it to be about nine or ten in the morning. About a block later, he reached the Brick.

Matt entered and seated himself at the bar. The radio behind the bar was tuned to KBHR and Chris in the Morning. Matt was just in time to hear Chris announce, ".....and our good friend from Illinois is here. Hi again, Matt. Glad you're here. Here's one of Matt's favorites; it's a new one from k d lang. Hey, Matt, don't stay away so long next time...." Chris spoke over the opening chords to Constant Craving.

Someone touched his shoulder. Frightened by the touch, Matt spun around to see Maggie.

"Hi, Matt," she smiled. She was even prettier than on TV. "Sorry I scared you. I just wanted to confirm your flight out tomorrow. You want to leave tomorrow, right?"

"I guess so," Matt was nearly speechless.

"OK, good. And if you see Fleischman, tell him I'll get to his toilet this week."

When he turned back to the bar, Shelly was ready to take his order.

"Hey, Matt! Long time no see! What's your poison today?

"Uh, a burger...."

"Holling!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Matt wants a mooseburger!"

Holling waved from the kitchen. "Hey Matt! I'll fix it up just the way you like it."

"Tim's looking for you," Shelly said. "You just missed him about five minutes ago. Between you and me, hon, I would grab that stud! If I didn't have the major hots for Holling, I would...."

Someone was entering the bar. Through the frosted glass, they could see that two people were coming in. Ed entered first, and he was talking to someone.

"I don't know, Tim," Ed said to the other figure in his surfer like manner. "Maybe Matt's in here..."

Before the other figure could enter the bar, Matt woke up.

"Hey sleepyhead," Tim shook his shoulder gently. "It's ten o'clock. Even I can't carry you to bed."

Matt sat up. He felt groggy and disoriented.

"You wanted me out of here by ten, and I'm leaving," Tim said with just a touch of sadness in his voice. "I just wanted to say good-bye." He stood up and walked to the door.

Matt followed him. They smooched goodnight, once. Tim put his hand on the doorknob to open the back door.

"Wait, Tim." Tim gazed at Matt with his hazel eyes. No dimples were showing. "I do love you."

"Oh, I knew it, I knew it." Tim engulfed Matt in such a tight hug, it almost hurt him. "Thank you, Matt. I love you, too." Their lips locked in an oral embrace.

"What made you finally tell me that you loved me?" Tim asked when they stopped kissing.

"Some advice from a doctor friend."

Tim looked puzzled. Matt thought about explaining his dream, but Tim would never believe it, or Tim would laugh at him. Matt walked out to Tim's car. The night was warm and muggy.

"Goodnight, Matt," and shook his hand comically.

"Get out of here, you lunatic." Matt laughed.

Tim started the car, waved at Matt, turned on the headlights and drove off. Matt remembered he forgot to tell him about Brian.

Just before Matt opened the back door, he clearly heard an eagle scream. It sounded exactly like the eagle in the opening scenes of Northern Exposure.

How was he going to manage it? With Brian coming over for the weekend and still spend time with Tim? Matt had Saturday off; it was his "comp" day for working Memorial Day. Besides, Oak Ridge Mall closed at six on Saturdays like most malls around Chicago. Malls around the rest of the country stayed open until nine on Saturdays. But in Chicago, perhaps due to tradition, poor sales, or just plain stubbornness, they closed at six.

Matt decided he would pick up Brian on Saturday morning so he could at least spend Friday night with Tim. And it would help him avoid dealing with the issue for the time being. As yet, neither Brian nor Tim knew about the existence of the other.

On Thursday night, Matt had another unexpected visitor. Matt had worked that day and just gotten home from work. Matt was surprised to see Patrick McGraw at his front door. He looked good, and his hair was silver hair was shorter than he remembered it. His dimples were less pronounced than Tim's. He was still trim and fit, although not muscular like Tim.

"How you doing?" Patrick said when Matt opened the door.

Matt was apprehensive, but shook Patrick's hand anyway. He knew that there could only be one topic of conversation: Tim.

"Come on in."

"Wow," Patrick said too enthusiastically. "I like what you've done here."

"Thanks." Matt took him on the tour. Patrick was full of compliments. He faced Matt when they returned to the living room.

Matt commented, "You did an excellent job here."

"Thanks. It's a matter of pride. When you take pride in your work, you care about how you do your job. And, of course, I had help." He looked Matt right in the eyes. Blue eyes, Matt noticed.

"I'm sure you didn't come here to see the townhouse. Or do you return to every job site to see the results?"


"What's this all about?"

"My son."

Matt trembled inside. This couldn't be good. A herd of irrational thoughts thundered into his mind. Maybe he was going to assault him. Maybe Patrick was going to accuse Matt of `recruiting' his son. Perhaps he was going to blackmail him. Matt put these thoughts aside and proposed a solution where they could talk but where the conversation would stay within civil boundaries.

"I just got home from work and I haven't eaten yet. Why don't we get something to eat?"

"Good idea," Patrick grinned. "I'm hungry, too."

"Do you know where Chicago Dough Company is on Sauk Trail?" Matt was relieved. Patrick was unlikely to create a scene in a restaurant.

Patrick shook his head. "I'll follow you."

Matt liked the fact they were going in separate vehicles for two reasons: First, there wouldn't be any awkward conversation on the way over; and second, Patrick could leave directly from the restaurant instead of coming back to the house.

Chicago Dough Company had decent pizza, not great, but good. Chicago consumers are very demanding of their pizza. Chicago is, after all, the home of deep dish pizza. Pizza that might be considered great elsewhere could be considered only mediocre there. It was fairly dark in the restaurant, and few customers this Thursday night. They requested a booth against the wall for a modicum of privacy.

They ordered their pizza and a pitcher of beer. Patrick poured a glass for them both.

"Any problems?"

"With what?" Matt realized he was sounding defensive.

"The house."

"No. None at all."

"Good, good."

The conversation just couldn't seem to get started. They made small talk about the weather, the restaurant and the White Sox. The Sox were the only professional sports team that Matt could discuss knowledgeably. A couple years ago, they had torn down the old Comisky Park and built a new ballpark. The reviews of the new Comisky were not favorable. Matt had yet to see a game there. Of course, the Bulls were in the playoffs again this year, and the finals were set to begin.

"Tim and I had a talk on Monday," Patrick finally blurted.

"Yes, I know. He told me about it."

"He's my son. I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea of him being a....."

Just go ahead and say it, Matt thought. Faggot. That's what you were going to say.

The server returned with their food. They thanked him and smiled nervously, wondering how much he had overheard.

".....Gay." Patrick finally finished his sentence. "He also told me that he loves you."

"He told me that, too," Matt said quietly.

"Look, I don't care what he does in the bedroom. I really don't. But I do want him to be happy. And he hasn't been very happy lately."

"I don't know if I can help you there. Tim has to make some decisions."

"He wants your approval."

"I approve of him. I really do."

"Good. I wanted to meet you to see if I approved of you."

Matt snickered. "You sound like you're approving me as a future son-in-law."

"Maybe I am."

Matt raised his eyebrows.

"You know, my oldest son is thirty. Tim said you were about ten years older than he is. So, that would make you...."

"Thirty three," Matt completed the math for him.

"I'm old enough to be your father."

And? Matt thought. What is your point?

"I would be proud to have you as a son-in-law. Especially such a good-looking one."

Matt blushed. "You are embarrassing me." Actually, Matt was pleased. This had gone a lot better than he expected. He liked Patrick. He was a little rough around the edges, but that added to his attractiveness. Matt knew it took a lot of guts to approach his son's boyfriend. He wondered if Tim knew his father was going to do this.

They ordered another pitcher of beer, although Patrick seemed to be doing most of the drinking. The conversation went a lot smoother and by the time they had finished, both Matt and Patrick felt comfortable with each other.

"He's still going to have some problems. Telling other people, I mean," Patrick commented.

"Every gay person does. He may even lose some friends."

"I was thinking about his brother. He will be freaked."

"Maybe Matt doesn't have to tell him. Sometimes, it's OK to let people draw their own conclusions."

They paid the bill and prepared to leave. On the way out, Patrick had to use the rest room. Matt stood in the vestibule for a few seconds, then decided that emptying his bladder might be a good idea.

There were two urinals in the small men's room. Matt took a spot at the urinal to the right of Patrick. As he finished releasing his stream, Matt couldn't resist a peek. Very discreetly, he peered at Patrick out of the corner of his eye.

Patrick had completed emptying his bladder. His jeans were completely unzipped and unbuttoned. He was inching away form the urinal. His cock was semi erect. He was stroking it with his right hand. As Patrick got harder, he turned slightly to Matt. He had a huge circumcised cock. It was even longer than Tim's and at least as thick.

"You like what you see?" Patrick whispered. "You want it, don't you?"

Matt did. He gulped audibly. He reached a trembling left hand toward Patrick's rod.

I can't do this. Matt suddenly zipped up, which was difficult because of his erection, and left the small rest room without washing his hands. He wanted to get away, fast. He did want it; that was the problem.

Without stopping, Matt left the restaurant, hopped in his car and drove away. As he turned down Sauk Trail, he saw Patrick leave the building in his rearview mirror.

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