Date: Tue, 5 Apr 2011 21:31:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Peter's Story 13

His eyes opened slowly as they got used to the early morning sunshine of
late May.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the light streamed in through
the thin window curtains of the attic bedroom that they now shared. And
just the movement of the bed told him that Marty was already up.

After a semester of living together, it was the most subtle things that he
began to notice. When he was alone in the bed, his own motions would jostle
the mattress in a certain way, but when Marty was there the inertia caused
by the added weight hardly allowed it to move at all. Even if he woke on
the other side of the bed, it was like his own private seismograph, letting
him know if he was alone..

With the covers half off, he turned over and saw the glass of water that
Marty retrieved for him every night before they went to bed.  He could see
the aquarium beyond it, the brightly colored fish swimming around the
tank. He wondered if they had just woken up, too, then smiled to himself as
he lifted the glass off the table and gulped down almost half of it.

After finishing off the rest, he exchanged the glass for his phone before
sitting back in the bed and pulling the covers back over himself.  He
scrolled through the messages.  Jeff left his usual long, suggestive
subject title, thanking them for coming to his pre-exam party the other
night but chastising Peter for leaving early to have sex `all alone.'
There was another from Wei and another from Jason, about getting together
later, and then a couple from Bik and Robert that looked like they were
about end-of-schoolyear congratulations.

Without his hearing aid yet in he could only barely hear the creaking of
the floorboards.  But he felt the vibration of the floor from footsteps as
he raised his eyes toward the open door to see Marty's head just poking
into the room.

"Hey, looks like you're awake.  Sleep OK?"

"uh huh," Peter responded as he laid the phone down before rubbing his eyes
his eyes with both hands curled into fists, like a little boy.  "How `bout
you?"

"Pretty good, but I woke up earlier than even I usually do, nervous about
the test, I guess. Anyway, are you hungry?"

"Can I help with anything?" Peter said as he bolted upright in the bed.
His own exams were behind him, but he was still trying do whatever he could
to help Marty prepare for his and was very much aware of his anxiety about
them.  There was a scholarship on the line.

Even though they had worked out a way to pay for both of their studies by
reducing costs and going into Peter's savings, he knew Marty wanted to
carry his own weight. And with the economy reducing one of his
scholarships, he could get an additional departmental scholarship if he
could get one of the three highest grades in this class.

He came in and stood by the bed as Peter pushed the pillows up against the
headboard, making a soft back rest that he beckoned Marty to come and take
advantage of.

"No worries. I'm as prepared as I'll ever be," Marty replied as he dropped
his backpack on the floor before reaching over to push the pillows back to
behind Peter. "I've got to get going, so these will do you more good than
me."

"Then I'll take care of dinner tonight, OK? Just try to relax and don't
worry about anything else, OK?  Just knock the ball out of the park!" Peter
countered.  He struggled to figure out exactly what he could do to help but
couldn't think of anything else very practical.

"No worries," Marty said as he finally sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm kind of nervous now, so it will do me good to do some routine stuff
like cooking afterwards. It gets my head out of the grind and all.
Besides, I wanted to make you some of your Dad's lasagna tonight, and I've
already taken the meat out of the freezer.  I just need to get stuff for a
salad."

"Well, why don't I get all the salad items then? I know you don't think
that shopping is relaxing, and I'm all done with exams anyway."

"Yea, sure. That'd be great, thanks," he replied, tapping his finger on
Peter's head for each ingredient he needed

As he wound up the list, he noticed the time on the bedstand clock and
started to get up off the bed.  "Well, I've got to get rolling now. A
little last minute review with my study group, and then it's off to the
gallows!" he said with a chuckle.

After collecting his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder, Marty
reached out one final time and ran his fingers through Peter's disheveled
hair.  "Oh yea, there's some scrambled eggs on the table, you might want to
eat them quick before they get too cold. I left half a bagel, too, and
there's some cream cheese in the fridge."

Before he could escape, however, Peter gave gentle tug to his shirt, the
power more in the gesture than in any brute force.  Marty stopped and
turned around.

"Good luck, OK?" he said, as he sat up to kiss Marty on the cheek.

Marty have him that funny look he sometimes did, like he couldn't believe
that this guy was for real, that he was an apparition.  His eyes focused,
trying to make sure of what he was seeing.

"You OK?" Peter asked.

"Uh huh, yea, I'm fine...I'm just...looking."

"At what?" he responded, starting to blush.

Marty kept look down, a bit embarrassed at himself, then started to fidget
with his backpack again. "Just at you...I mean...it's just ..." Without
finishing the sentence he bent down and gave Peter a quick kiss to the top
of his head.

"I'd better get going," he said softly into Peter's good ear.  "See you
soon."

He pulled the pack fully up onto himself, then did a final check in the
mirror, making sure his hair was straight and shirt on correctly. Peter
couldn't help noticing how his back muscles shown through the shirt,
especially when he raised up his hand to make a last adjustment to his
hair.

`What an ass he's got!' Peter thought to himself, now staring hungrily as
Marty bent over to tie his shoes.  He could have reached out and squeezed
it right there, except that he really had to remember the seriousness of
the day.  `Later!' he said to himself.

With a final wave and smile, Marty was out of the room and on his way.

"Knock `em dead!" Peter called out when he thought he heard the creeking of
the outside door as it was opened.

"I'll try!" Marty replied as he shut and locked the door behind him.  Peter
strained to hear the sound of his footsteps on open outdoor stairs
gradually falling away.



`Gosh, it always seems so quiet when he leaves. Kind of empty,' Peter
thought to himself.  At least it wasn't like winter, where it was only the
whir of the aquarium pump that made a sound.  Since it was almost summer,
the windows were open, and even without his hearing aid he could hear the
birds and all manner of typical small town noise coming in, from lawnmowers
to revving car engines.

Reaching over retrieve his phone off the nightstand again, he started to
actually open the messages.

The title of Jeff's did not disappoint, as it was the usual lascivious
recounting of his presumptions about their sex life.  The barbed quality of
the messages had softened only a little in the months since the guys had
moved in together, but his wit and charm (mixed with a hint of sadness,
Peter thought) had not.

The messages from his brothers congratulated both of them on finishing off
the semester, along with question about when they'd be getting back to
their Dad's place for the summer. Wei and Jeremy were inviting them to the
same party, trying to bring the gang together before they all split for the
summer.  He wasn't awake enough to make any replies, but still managed to
mark them all for re-read so he wouldn't forget.

Looking back down at the screen, he clicked on to the pictures folder and
scrolled through his favorite photos.  The upper left hand icon was the
shot of he and Marty at Christmas, leaning against each other, smiling for
the camera with the dogs lolling around them. Then pictures of his family
and then more pictures of Marty.  Randomly he enlarged a picture of Marty
after a soccer game only a few weeks before, his shirt off, sweat running
down his chest.

The picture was from the waist up, and Peter had cropped and enlarged the
original so that Marty filled the screen.  Peter himself had taken the
original picture, and it was one of is favorites.  He had also duplicated
it and cropped and enlarged the head, which he saved as a separate image.
But right now he wanted to look at this one.

It was taken just at the moment of inhaling air after a particularly
difficult and intense game, and the combination of his raised chest and the
strong mid-day sun angle cast a shadow on every bulge and crevice formed by
his muscles, especially the layers of abdominal ridges above his slim
waist.  The hair on his chest was wet and matted down, which gave an
incredibly masculine and erotic flavor to the image.

Involuntarily, Peter's hand free hand found its way to his crotch. He
wasn't even conscious of his fingers sliding beneath the elastic band of
his under wear. It wasn't until the rapidly hardening dick started to pull
on his pubic hair that he let out a sigh, and then eased up.

`Later,' he said to himself again as he pulled his hand out and onto the
covers, clenching them in mock frustration.  `When the real thing is here.'

					***

He only stayed in bed for a few more minutes, especially when he remembered
that Marty had left him breakfast. Wanting to be totally relaxed, he
decided to leave off his hearing aid before putting on a pair of shorts and
putting on his house sandals before heading to the kitchen.

Even though the food had already gotten cold, he just tossed the plate into
the microwave for a few seconds and it was practically as good as
new. Marty had gotten the recipe from Peter's Dad, and it had all sorts of
little additions like mushrooms, green onions and bits of ham that Peter
had grown up with and really like with his eggs.

Before eating a bite, however, he went back to his room to get his
phone. Sitting on the edge of the bed so that he could focus, he punched in
a text to Marty.

G-o-o-d L-u-c-k-!

After finishing breakfast and doing a few minutes of web surfing, Peter
started the process of packing up the house for both of them. They only
planned to stay in town a few more days, mostly to see their friends and
relax a bit, and for sure go to Wei and Jason's party.  They would soon be
off for another 8 or 10 hour drive, depending on traffic and their own
mood.

Like on their trip during for Christmas, Angela would be with them too, but
this time she had her own reasons for going.  The plan was that she would
spend the summer with them at the Dads' now half-empty house.  And Todd, of
course, would be close by.  Through the intercession of friends and
relatives, they had all already lined up temporary summer jobs. None of
them glorious, but at least they be making some money.

As he started to figure out how to organize things, he realized that it was
the first time that he was alone in many months and actually had time on
his hands.  During the semester there was always studying to do when Marty
wasn't there, and back at Christmas he was recuperating at home with lots
of people around.

But even he was looking forward to the drive and to getting back home, he
didn't have any sense of urgency as he began to empty some of their clothes
out the draws and arrange them for packing. Tackling Marty's items first,
he dove into his shirt drawer and put aside what he might need in the next
two days.

Retrieving a large box that he had rescued from behind the college
bookstore, he began to stack some of the lighter items like t-shirts and
underwear. He had pulled out most of the t-shirts and was about to go to
the next row when he realized there was one more shirt at the back of the
drawer, carefully wrapped in thin paper.  He slowly pulled it out and held
it up, checking to see how big it was and how it should be packed, when he
suddenly realized something about it.

It was the shirt the Marty had worn when they first met. That blue shirt.

He sat back down on the bed and placed it in his lap. It was just a dumb
shirt, he thought, so couldn't figure out why it was wrapped up. It's not
like they ever dry cleaned anything, and it was obviously an old shirt
anyway, noticing that it was even a bit frayed when he examined it closely.

`He never wears this anymore,' Peter thought, and wondered why it was
separated out. He thought that Marty looked really great in it, but then
again he thought he looked good in just about anything. But there was
something special about this shirt, even to Peter. Maybe because it matched
his eyes?  Maybe.  For the longest time, Peter just let it lay across his
lap, looking at it.

Glancing at the clock again, he realized that he probably needed to start
making some real progress. Before packing any more items, however, he
carefully folded the shirt, replaced the wrapping paper and put it on of
the waiting stack of shirts.

					***

Peter heard the feet climbing up the wooden stairs, and tried to gauge the
mood from the sound.  It seemed slower than usual, not the quick clicks he
usually heard.  But It didn't seem too slow either, so at least he wasn't
`trudging' up the stairs. But he never did that anyway. Even if things
didn't go well, he wasn't the type to hand his head low and let a down mood
overtake him.

But that didn't mean that something bad didn't happen.

Peter positioned himself right behind the door, and soon as he heard a foot
hit the outside landing he pulled open the old wooden door, which again let
out it's telltale whine.

Marty had been reaching for the old, round metal knob just when it was
pulled away, and stumbled slightly at the unexpected movement of the door.

"Oh...hi, thanks!" he said as he regained his balance, a smile coming on
his face. "I wish it did that everyday."

Peter took that as a good sign, but still couldn't wait for the actual
report as he reached out with both hands to pull Marty into a hug.  "How'd
it go?" he whispered into his ear.

Marty leaned into him, putting almost all of his weight onto a surprised
Peter, who quickly turned mustered all his strength to give him solid
support.

"Oh, jeeze, I'm glad that's over.  I think it went OK. We all talked later,
and I got to feeling kind of good about most of my answers.  But I know
that I flubbed a couple, too. I just hope that everyone else flubbed a lot
more," he said, a raise in the tone of voice that seemed like a positive
sign.

Doing his best to keep up the strong support, Marty didn't move for what
seemed the longest time. In spite of his seemingly relaxed comments, it was
clear that he was exhausted.  So Peter just held him there, with only a
slight back and forth motion as his hands rubbed Marty's back.

"It's so good to come back to you, Pete.  I don't think you know how much,"
he said as he gently squeezed him.

Without a sound, Peter just raised his head to rub their cheeks together.
He felt the slightest bit of stubble, another one of those subtle signals
that he had picked during the last few months. Marty shaved regularly in
the morning, almost always at about the same time. So light stubble meant
that it was coming up on early evening.  Not to mention that it was also
incredibly masculine and erotic.

"Ready?" Peter whispered after a few more moments of holding him.

Marty pulled away, looking at him as he raised his arms to Peter's
shoulders.

"Yup," he said, smiling, as they slowly parted.

As Marty came in through the door his waist was immediately captured by
Peter's arm, guiding him gently but forcefully toward the bedroom.

"You get in here and change and all, and then come on into the kitchen and
we'll cook together, OK? Then you get your relaxation in and you can tell
me all about the test all at the same time.  That is, if you even want to
talk about it now."

"There not much gas left in me right now," he said with a chuckle as he
removed his shoes but remained in his stockinged feet.  He paused for a
moment, not able to, or not wanting to get up.

Seeing the delay, Peter sat down on the bed next to him, and put his hand
around him.  "You OK?"

Almost like he did when they were standing at the doorway, he leaned into
Peter, his head resting on the shoulder next to him as he exhaled broadly.
Without speaking, Peter just held firm.

"Are you worried about stuff, Babe? Why so tired?," he asked, as he gently
rubbed Marty's leg with his hand.

"I'm not down, really.  I feel OK.  Like I said, I think I actually did all
right." For a guy who usually downplayed any academic successes, that gave
Peter some comfort.

"I guess I was a lot more keyed up than I thought I was, and two-and-a-half
hours is a long test," Marty said, drawing out the word `long.'  "I think I
put every little piece of knowledge I had on the paper. Every word I can
remember hearing in a lecture or reading,. I don't think there was anything
that she didn't ask about."

Peter let him continue to talk, which was Marty's way of decompressing from
a difficult time.  From talking to Angela, it wasn't the way that Marty
used to be, at least after the events of his youth. So Peter at least saw
that as a good sign, too.

When it looked like he was rested enough, Peter gave him a squeeze on the
shoulder as he got up off of the bed. "You rest here for a few minutes and
I'll get dinner ready."

"But I told you I'd do that!" Marty protested, his back arching as he was
about to get up.

Peter sprung up quicker however.  He stood directly in front of him and
placed both his hands firmly on Marty's shoulders, playfully but firmly
pushing him back down. "You got most of the stuff done already, so it's not
a lot. And I hardly did anything all day, especially compared to what you
went through."

"But I said..."

"Stay!" Peter ordered.

Marty looked back up at him, an almost forlorn look on his face as he sat
back down on the bed.  "You sure?"

Reaching down and grabbing his ear, Peter said, "Yup. I got you a nice
dessert, too. So you have something tasty to look forward to," he said, as
Marty's attention was momentarily drawn to the carefully stacked clothes
nearby, ready for boxing.  He saw Marty's eyes quickly scan the stacks,then
momentarily focus on the blue shirt that Peter had found earlier.

The distraction didn't seem to last very long, though. Suddenly he reached
out his hand, placing it carefully on Peter's thigh as he began to softly
stroke it.

"hmmm..." he replied as he continued, his hand moving from back of knee to
ankle. "Tasty...I like tasty..."

"I thought that you were tired!" Peter exclaimed.

"...gosh...I am but...something is kind of giving me a second wind..." he
replied.  He then reached up and placed his hands on Peter's arms, stroking
them for a moment before firmly grasping his shoulders.  Where he found the
strength, Peter didn't know, but he used his powerful arms to completely
support Peter's upper body weight as he slowly leaned back on the bed,
carrying Peter with him.

Realizing that he was in a position with his weight coming straight down on
Marty, he asked, "are you OK?" as he prepared to lean left or right, any
direction to remove the load.

"I'm OK," he said. "I'm very OK," he said with a smile.

Peter could feel him massaging his shoulders, the fingers pushing the
muscles in and out.  Peter wasn't the type who would ever get real big, but
the past few months he had been much more regular about going to the gym
and he definitely had filled out a more in the right places.

"Nice." Was all he said as he continued the motions.

"Still OK?" Peter asked, his hands ready to spread out to take the weight
off of Marty, just in case he reacted.

"Yup," he said, pulling Peter closer until he was actually lying directly
on top of him, there chest pressing together as Marty's hip gently pushed
up into Peter.

"Oh jeeze, I should..."

"No, no, you're OK where you are. You're ... just fine..."

"but I think I just felt you push up," Peter said, finely tuned to all of
his movements.

"That was me pushing INTO you, not pushing you off.  I'm sure!" As he said
this, Peter felt another gentle thrust into his rapidly hardening dick.

"You're sure my weight isn't too much?" he asked again.

Marty smiled and reached up and rubbed the back of his hand against Peter's
check and just gave him a crooked smile.  "I don't know Peter, maybe it's
just temporary. I guess we should still be careful, but I don't feel it any
more, at least right now, tonight. I'm OK.  I really am."

It had almost been reflexive for Peter to keep his weight off of Marty, and
he still had his hands ready to push off. But now he started to relax as he
let all his upper body weight rest on Marty.

"It feels really good to have you up there," Marty said softly into Peter's
good side. "Really good," he repeated as he wrapped his arms around Peter
and gently squeezed.

"Me too." Peter replied, his head resting on Marty's

They stayed there for several minutes, Peter's body rising and falling with
Marty's breathing and his own.  Kicking off his shoes, he got himself
completely onto the bed, only his legs taking some of the weight off of
Marty.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marty could see that blue shirt again on the
top of the pile.  Even though that first meeting had ended in such an awful
way, he still had a good feeling about this guy and needed, somehow, to
memorialize that night.

He had put it in the wrapper that very night.







Thanks for checking out this story, everyone. I hope you've enjoyed the
reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it.

As real life is starting to crowd into my writing time, I need to take a
break from a while.  I'm hoping to start writing again in the fall, either
keeping going with this story or returning to Connections, or maybe a new
one. We'll see where it goes.

By the way, It's always great to hear from you all. Even though I can't
often write lengthy replies, I answer everyone who writes. If you do drop
me a line, let me know where you are from.  The reach of Nifty is
incredible – I've actually had messages from all over the world, which
is pretty cool!

Take care,

J