Date: Sat, 7 Apr 2007 13:51:47 -0600 From: Roy Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapter 8 This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only. 'Phalen - Finding Happiness' Chapter eight by Roy Reinikainen Phalen threw his towel over his shoulder and walked out of the showers into the locker room followed by a cloud of steam. He inhaled and smiled as he headed down a long aisle, heading toward his locker. 'I love that smell,' he thought. 'So many . . . men, all laughing and horsing around.' He smiled at a shriek and accompanying laughter coming from nearby. "Hey, Weston," someone called. He looked around to see who had called his name. "Have you no modesty?" "What's that?" Phalen's answer was met with whistles and hoots of laughter. "There's no reason for me to hide anything," he shouted over the general din. "I've got the same equipment as you." He paused a moment. "Now, if you would like to donate a couple inches, I wouldn't complain." The laughter got louder. Phalen looked from side to side, playing to his audience. "I meant *height,* men. I could stand to be a couple inches *taller!* Besides, Carl doesn't have any *length* to spare." He ducked a couple towels, as well as a shoe thrown in his direction, smiling when someone complained that their shoe was missing. He paused a moment to let the laughter die down before he delivered his punch line. "That's why Carl's last name is *Short!* He jogged to his row of lockers, the laughter following him. He turned into his row and stopped. There was a strange person with his back to him. He was speaking with a couple members of the team in a low voice. 'Who *is* this guy,' was Phalen's first thought. "Excuse me, guys. I need to get to my locker." The short blond man jumped as if he'd been stung, and moved aside, his eyes shifting from the two men he had been speaking with, to Phalen. Phalen grinned as he hung his towel over the open locker door. "Don't mind me." He pulled on his jockstrap, turning to look over his shoulder. When the three men remained silent, he gave them a puzzled look. "What's the problem? You guys are acting like you're doing something illegal." He pulled on his shirt and didn't see the furtive glances the men exchanged. When he reached into his locker to grab his shorts, the men were trying to act normally. Phalen gave them a friendly smile. "I'll just be a moment and then you can continue your conversation." He fastened his shorts, slipped on his shoes, and grabbed his book bag and wet towel, and turned to leave. The blond guy stepped aside. "Uh, I'd better go," he stuttered. He slapped one of the athletes on the shoulder. "See you next week." His eyes flicked to Phalen for a moment. "Later, Dustin," one of the athletes murmured. "Strange guy," Phalen muttered, as he walked past his two teammates. ---------- Greg opened the courtyard door. "I hope you're hungry." Curt smiled, holding up two white plastic bags bulging with contents. "You said you hadn't eaten, so I brought dinner for us both." He stepped into the shade of the courtyard and set the bags down as he waited for Greg to close the outside door. When Greg turned to him Curt stepped close and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek enjoying the pleased smile and slight flush of pink on his cheeks before he enfolded Greg in a warm embrace. Greg melted into a lengthy embrace, sighing close to Curt's ear. "Hmmm, this is so nice." He took a deep breath. "You smell wonderful. You *feel* wonderful. I don't want this to end." He could feel Curt's chuckle. "I thought you said you were hungry. Let's eat and then we can kiss some more. I've got a few treats for you in these bags." "Oh, good." Greg smiled. "Treats." He peered into one of the bags as Curt handed it to him. "I don't suppose you were able to find smoked reindeer meat in Phoenix?" He looked at Curt with a hopeful expression. When the response was a disbelieving shake of the head, he ventured. "Beet casserole?" Another negative response. Greg heaved a dramatic sigh as he opened the door to the house and stepped aside for Curt to pass. "I guess we'll just have to make do." Half way across the living room Curt turned to him. "Reindeer?" Greg nodded. "Beet casserole?" This time Greg *smiled,* nodded, and licked his lips. "Ugh. Remind me to say I'm busy whenever you invite me over for some of Mom's home cooking." He shuddered and smiled, letting Greg know he was kidding. "I just finished with the gym when I called you," he said as he followed Greg onto the patio and began emptying the bags. "I went over there with Daniel . . . the guy I mentioned to you." Greg gave him a puzzled look. "You know, the one I felt bad about having had sex with." "Oh yes." Greg sat down and examined each of the containers, his smile growing as he opened the lid to each. "You really have paid attention when I mentioned the types of food I like. I'm going to have to join you at the gym if I continue eating like this." Curt gave him a pleased smile. "And my favorite beer too," he exclaimed, holding up an emerald-green bottle of Lapin Kulta. He sighed in pleasure after taking the first taste. "Ahhhhh. A man who brings Lapin Kulta to dinner is a man after my heart." He took another long swallow. "Home," he sighed in a nostalgic tone. He was quiet for a few moments, staring into the now half-empty bottle. "This is more than just a beer to me, Curt. It's memories. It is my mother and father . . . and Jeff." He took another drink. "It's the trees and lakes, the crisp air, the language. It's my *life* . . . until now." He gave Curt a sheepish grin. "Sorry. You said you went to the gym with Daniel. Are things between the two of you okay? I assume they must be since you're going to the gym with one another." He paused with a fork full of food half way to his mouth and gave Curt a puzzled look. "Did I say something wrong, other than rambling on about home, I mean? You're looking at me strangely." Curt shook his head and smiled. "No. I was just thinking how much I love listening to you talk. The accent is wonderful. I love the way you sort of roll your r's." He smiled brightly as Greg lowered his fork and seemed to think over what had just been said. "Now, you're going to get all self conscious on me. Don't." Curt reached across the table and tenderly took hold of Greg's hand. "Your accent is a wonderful part of what you are, just like your eyes, and the way you seem to hesitate just a second before you allow yourself to smile. You haven't done a lot of smiling in your life, have you?" "Since meeting you, I have." "Good. Same here." Curt looked away and cleared his throat. "Um, I was telling you about Daniel. Well, I explained things to him and he seems okay with everything." Curt grinned to himself. "It's easier to explain one's behavior when one is dressed and not holding a sticky condom." The look Greg gave him made him realize further explanation was in order. "The condom was mine." Greg's expressive eyebrows rose slightly and a smile teased the corners of his lips. "He wanted me to empty it into his mouth." The smile blossomed. "I guess I'm a little embarrassed when I describe it." "Why?" Greg looked genuinely puzzled. "I think it sounds exciting. I've only tasted my own sperm, never anyone else's." "Did you like it?" Greg shrugged in response to the question. "It must be an acquired taste . . . better than broccoli, not as good as beer." He held up the bottle of Lapin Kulta and tipped it slightly in a silent toast. Curt enjoyed seeing a more relaxed side of Greg and nodded slightly in acknowledgment of the toast. "Sperm's definitely better directly from the source." Once again Greg raised his eyebrows slightly, requesting an explanation. "To have a guy's penis in your mouth . . . to know *why* it's there . . . and then to feel it swell and pulse with each spurt of sperm as the guy is groaning with pleasure, is pretty wonderful. To feel . . . and taste, the sperm coating your tongue." Curt sat back in his chair and laughed at Greg's slightly breathless expression. "As Phalen would say, "it's awesome." "*That's* better than beer any day, in my book at least. Of course, I may not be the best judge, since I like the taste of broccoli too." He gave Greg a mischievous smile, causing them both to laugh. Curt took a deep breath. "Back to Daniel. He's okay now. The problem is, he liked the rough treatment I gave him." "Rough?" "Yeah. I like being in control, and I've always gotten off showing how in control I am." He sighed. "I've been learning there are other ways of being in control than pushing people around. It's something like a game, I think. Before . . . I never let the rules of the game stop me from behaving however I wanted. It was my game. I set the rules. The other person played . . . or they left." He bowed his head. "I ended up getting pretty rough sometimes. I guess I hung around guys who liked me to be that way." "Brad didn't, and yet I never paid attention to what he wanted." Curt stared into the distance and slowly shook his head before looking back at Greg with an embarrassed grin. "After that night . . . with Daniel, I felt awful about the way I treated him. I think I finally figured how I can still play the game, not with *my* rules, but with *the* rules . . . ones my partner and I have agreed upon." He took a long swallow from his untouched beer bottle and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "I would imagine you're not a person who would enjoy having things get rough." Greg gave him a rueful grin. "No. I can't keep an erection when I'm with a guy, as it is. Besides, I don't like being pushed around under *any* circumstances. I like being in charge too much to allow someone that . . . freedom." He silently snorted. "We sound like quite a pair, don't we? Both of us want to be in control." "Have you ever thought about the two of us ever having sex," Greg asked, not able to meet Curt's eyes until Curt began laughing. "Every day. Every night. Right now!" He watched Greg's expression shift from pleased to alarmed and back to an uneasy version of pleased. "Yes," he concluded. "I think of you and me often. You?" Greg rotated his beer bottle on the glass tabletop and thought for a moment. "Yeah, me too." He tilted his head to some furniture a few feet away. "I masturbated out here sitting on that lounge chair, the other night." He swallowed. "I've thought of you and me often, and at the same time I'm frightened out of my wits, for fear . . . if we tried . . . things, between us, would . . . change." Curt reached across the table and silently took Greg's hand. "I break into a cold sweat when I think about seriously being intimate with anyone." "When we met I seem to remember you having difficulty with the thought of holding hands, or being kissed." "We still haven't kissed. Not really." "I think we have." Curt squeezed Greg's hand. "My lips tell me I've kissed you." "On the cheek." Curt shrugged slightly. "That's a kiss in my book. And, I think you're enjoying those kisses more each time they happen. Am I right?" Greg gave him a sheepish smile. "I thought so. You've got to give yourself time. In the past you've rushed into something before you were ready. You've also been with unfeeling people. No one's rushing you now. You have to do things at a speed you're comfortable with. Okay?" "You actually think that someday, I'll be able to feel your penis pulse in my mouth and cover my tongue with your sperm?" Greg smiled, using Curt's own words. "I even enjoy *saying* it. I imagine it's much better to experience the real thing." Curt smiled and nodded slowly, squeezing Greg's hand. "I think you'll be able to. Whether it is *my* penis, or someone else's doesn't matter. You'll do it whenever you're ready." He gave Greg a conspiratorial grin. "I can *hope* that it's mine though. Can't I?" Both men looked up when they heard the front door of the house close, followed by Phalen's chatter. Curt's smile faded and he released Greg's hand as the voices came closer. "Hey, Curt!" Phalen smiled brightly and leaned over his shoulder to give him a hug. He nodded to the empty food containers littering the table. "It looks like we missed a feast." Phalen dragged over a chair as Jeff smiled a greeting to both Curt and his brother and dragged over another chair. "Hey guys. It's good to see you, Curt. I thought that was your car out front." Curt looked over his shoulder with a slightly panicked expression. "Oh, geez. Did I block your way into the garage? Um, I'd better get to work. I've been playing around enough today." He walked around the table and gave Greg a quick kiss on the cheek, missing Phalen's smile and quick glance at Jeff. "Do you really have to go so soon? Jeff and I just got here. I'd like to visit for a while." Curt gave him an apologetic look. "Yeah, I'd better." "Curt, please wait just a few moments longer." Jeff motioned for him to retake his chair, ignoring Phalen's puzzled glance. Curt gave him a wary look as he sat on the edge of the chair, for all the world, looking like a child about to be scolded. Jeff took a deep breath. "Curt, I've got to say something. I want you to know that there is absolutely no reason for you to hurry off every time I enter the room. If you *have* to leave because of work or something, that's one thing, but if you're leaving because you think I don't like you because of my friendship with Brad, you shouldn't go." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying Curt. "You're making a mistake believing that you are the sole reason your relationship with Brad went sour. You were *one* reason, but not the only one, I'm sure. The point is, you have to stop beating yourself up. It doesn't help anyone, and it's distressing to watch." "You are always welcome in this house, whether or not you're visiting my brother. If, by some chance, Brad should be here, you are *still* welcomed. All of us are your friends." "In the past, you behaved in ways that have caused you grief. Everything I've seen since you and Greg have been seeing one another, tells me you regret that past and are trying to act differently. Greg's already a good friend of yours. Phalen and I would like to be thought of as friends too." He gave Curt an encouraging smile. Phalen nodded agreement. "Thanks Jeff . . . really. I . . . I, don't know what to say." He audibly swallowed and glanced from Phalen to Greg and back to Jeff. "Since Brad left me, I've been afraid. Then I met Greg, and I became even more afraid." He flicked a glance in Greg's general direction. "You see, I know I still have the *old* Curt inside me." He pointed to his chest. "Deep in here, the old me is hiding. I'm afraid . . . at any minute . . . he'll show up. I'm afraid that the person I'm trying to be isn't the real me. I'm terrified that the person who's hiding is the *real* Curt." Greg set his bottle of beer down on the table with a clink of glass against glass. "Okay, Jeff's had his say, and you have. Now I get to have mine." Curt looked surprised at Greg's vehemence. "The real you is whatever you choose to be." He pointed to his head. "It's all up here. The real Curt is not some imaginary creature lurking in a corner of your mind. He is sitting in front of us right now. He's the man who has paid attention to the little things I've said and brought us over a feast composed of my favorite foods. He's the man who somehow, searched out my favorite beer and allowed me to get all misty-eyed, speaking of home. He is a considerate man, a man who knows when it's time to be aggressive and when it's better to be gentle. The man who I'm speaking of is a man . . . who has learned to play by the rules." ---------- The sidewalks were illuminated by the occasional streetlight or passing car. It was pleasantly warm as Greg and Curt strolled around the neighborhood, walking shoulder-to-shoulder, comfortable to be one another's presence. Curt reached for Greg's hand and was mildly surprised when Greg didn't draw away, but instead squeezed slightly, turning to him with a contented grin. "Ummmm," he sighed. "This is so nice. Since I've started working I don't get to see as much of you as I would like." Curt moved closer and put his arm around Greg's waist. He could feel Greg lean into him, a silent sign of approval. "How is the job at the hospital going? I thought you'd have really long hours, since you're new." Greg sighed into the darkness. "I thought so too. Actually, the guy I was supposed to replace decided to stay, so for the time being the hospital is overstaffed. They've got a contract with the University, and they're one person short over there. Since I've worked with athletes back home, that's where I've been temporarily placed. I work with physical therapy students mostly, but I'm doing some stuff over at the athletics complex as well. Eventually, I'll be working at the main hospital downtown." "You've mentioned home a lot tonight. Don't you consider Phoenix home yet?" Greg thought a moment and then shook his head. "No, not yet. Maybe when work settles down to a routine and I'm living in someplace of my own I will, but right now I feel as if I'm on an extended vacation, full of fun, good food, and wonderful people." He grinned in Curt's direction and leaned closer. "Wonderful?" "I think so. I feel more comfortable with you than I have with almost anyone in my entire life. It's a good feeling." He grinned to himself. "I enjoy it when you hold my hand too . . . and when you kiss me. Yes, wonderful describes how I'm feeling." They paused in a shadow cast by Jeff's house. Curt turned Greg to face him, noticing the tentative grin and the feeling of warmth. He slowly ran his hands up Greg's arms, to his shoulders and then drew him closer. "I think you're pretty wonderful yourself, doctor," he said in a low voice. He leaned closer and gently touched his lips to Greg's. "Very, very wonderful," he murmured in a voice now barely more than a whisper. When their lips touched a second time, Greg moaned, a sound deep in his throat, and leaned into the kiss, welcoming Curt's tongue in his first kiss. Curt's lips were soft. The touch was gentle, insistent . . . not threatening at all. It was as if he was verging on sensory overload. He recalled Curt's long dark eyelashes the moment before their lips touched. The look in his eyes was one of pent up passion. It was easy to imagine the two of them in bed together . . . naked . . . making love. It was a thought that was both exciting and frightening. If the two of them were to have sex, the kiss he was experiencing now would be nothing more than a prelude. He could almost feel the weight of Curt's body on his, the feel of Curt's penis in his mouth . . . the taste of his sperm. In the space of a few moments while their lips touched, he imagined what it would be like to have Curt stimulate him to orgasm. What would it feel like to have a warm mouth surround his cock? What would it be like to spurt a load into another man's mouth? Into *Curt's* mouth? The mouth currently touching his. Curt broke the kiss, his eyes sparkling and his lips smiling as Greg took a deep shuddering breath and leaned back against the wall of the house, tilting his head back. "Oh . . . my . . . Lord," he murmured. "I could never have imagined. I mean, I've imagined, but . . . it was nothing like that." He saw Curt smiling. "No one could have ever told me . . ." His voice trailed off. "Would you hold me?" He reached out and placed his hands on Curt's waist. "Each time I'm with you . . . and you're holding me . . . like this." He rested his head on Curt's shoulder, inhaling the maleness of him. He could feel the rise and fall of Curt's chest as he took each breath. "When you leave, I . . . I find I don't want to be alone. I miss your touch." He gently kissed Curt's neck, the first time he had initiated any sort of intimate contact. He could feel the hardness of Curt's erection pressing against him, an indication of Curt's excitement. Curt pressed his groin closer. Greg could feel the hard mound, and the way Curt's breathing had changed. 'The man's excited by me,' was his first thought. 'He's so warm. He likes me. I like him.' The next thought came fast on the heels of the last. Curt was nuzzling his face close to his ear, covering his neck, his jaw, his ear . . . with small, soft . . . warm, kisses. He could feel Curt's erection pressing against him. Suddenly, an involuntary shudder coursed through his body. His breath caught in his throat. 'It's happening again,' was his anguished thought. 'Not now. Not with Curt!' There was no immediate pulling back on Curt's part, no sign that he knew anything was wrong other than his kisses trailed off. After a few moments, he loosened his embrace and stepped back slightly. Greg didn't know what to do . . . or say. He was embarrassed. His body, his emotions had betrayed him once again. Curt gave him an encouraging smile before he leaned forward and gently kissed him on the lips. "I . . ." Greg began, lowering his eyes, Greg quickly put a forefinger over Greg's lips. "Shhhhh," he murmured. "I was moving too fast." Greg appeared ready to say something but was prevented when Curt applied slightly more pressure with his finger. "No apologies, Greg." He smiled. "Tonight, I got to hold you close. I got one of the most awesome kisses in my life . . . and I got to know you better." He was pleased to see Greg's expression soften and a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Curt leaned closer for another kiss. "I've had a wonderful." Another kiss, this one lingering slightly. "Wonderful, time." He wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders and pulled him close, speaking into his ear. "Thank you." Greg rested his head on Curt's shoulders as Curt tenderly rubbed his hands over his back. "There is no timetable for you to follow," he murmured. "There are no demands . . . no expectations." He moved back slightly and grinned, still holding Greg by the shoulders. "Understand," he coaxed, smiling when Greg nodded. "Good." "May I call you tomorrow? Maybe, the next night you're off we can go to dinner again. Jeff told me of a good place he and Phalen went on their honeymoon." He added quickly. "They've got good food. I understand that's high praise, coming from your brother." Greg's smile appeared to be relaxed. "Thanks. I'd like that. Very much." Curt grinned, squeezed his shoulder in farewell and took the few steps to his car. He lowered the convertible's roof and backed out of the drive, waving into the air as he accelerated. Greg leaned against the wall of the entry, staring at the nearby illuminated palm. He shook his head from side to side and muttered. "What is wrong with me?" There was a long pause. "Something *must* be wrong." ~ to be continued ~ Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I *always* welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask. In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may want to read. 'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College Section. The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult Relationships section. I hope you enjoy them all. Best wishes, Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com