Steve: Chapter Eight
  Here's the warning. If you're not 18 or your parents are in the room, don't read this story. If you don't like the thought of two guys doing it until the windows shake, don't read this story. If you're a dumbass, don't read this story. If you aren't disturbed by the huge increase in Gary Coleman cameos lately, there's something wrong with you. Otherwise, go ahead and read the story.

This chapter of the story is narrated by Mike. This is the first story I've ever posted, so be gentle.

Steve and I spent most of that afternoon talking. I learned more about Jeff than I ever thought I'd care to. He and Steve had always been friends, though not very close. Jeff was clingy, dependent, and very unstable. Before he and Steve had anything between them, he was trafficking drugs-in his own words, "nothing too heavy, just pot and stuff." He stopped while they were together, but when it was over, he got right back into it.

I didn't know how Ryan fit in yet, though. I'd find out soon enough. Steve went for a nap at around 3, but once he was asleep, I left and headed for the police station.

George wasn't at the station, which was more of a relief than not. I didn't need to talk to him, since he'd find out about my amateur sleuthing and probably make me stop. I talked to the officer working the front desk, who made me fill out a form or two. Then I was escorted into the holding area, where Ryan was being held. The guard didn't leave, but he stood off to the side and I barely even noticed he was there.

"Who the hell are you?" He didn't bother to move from the bed; he just looked in my direction.

"You don't know me, but I think we have a mutual acquaintance." I fished the picture of Jeff out of my pocket. "Recognize this guy?"

Ryan stood up and walked toward me. He took a cursory glance at the picture, then looked back up at me. "Man, what the hell? The cops asked me all about Jeff yesterday. Talk to them about it."

"I'm talking to you about it." I folded the picture and stuffed it into my back pocket again. "How do you know him, and why did he try to kill two of my best friends?"

"Huh? Who'd he kill?" The police obviously hadn't told him what was going on.

"He didn't kill anybody. He tried to. I want to know why." I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, looking Ryan over. I wasn't nervous, surprisingly. He returned my stare with a cold one of his own. "Rachel Lanford--you remember her, right?--was found on the side of the road a few days ago, beaten almost to death. We saved her. My other friend was hit by Jeff's car the other night. I'm guessing it was intentional." I watched his face. It was blank. He obviously didn't know anything about what was going on, but I needed to press the issue, just to be sure. "Know why he might want to do that?"

He walked back to the bed and sat down. He didn't let up on his cool-guy exterior, but I could tell there was something up. It was scary, though. I looked toward the door and started walking. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed to work.

"Wait a minute," he said. I stopped and turned around. "Jeff Williams. He's a--" Ryan paused for a second and flicked his eyes toward the officer at the door, "--an old friend."

"Okay then, now we're getting somewhere." I walked back to stand in front of him. Just being in his presence made my skin crawl, but I didn't let it show. "Why would he want to try to kill Rachel, then my best friend?"

"Wouldn't know." He shook his head in a way that could only be described as cocky. I could play just as tough, though.

I turned my head and just stared at him for a second or two. "We're coming back to the lying thing again." He just stood there, looking right back at me. It was unnerving. Still, I held my ground. This was one of those alpha-male things, and as much as I hated it, I played this game better than anybody. A few seconds of silence passed. "Alright, then," I said as I rolled my eyes and turned away from him, "let's talk about the situation you're in. You know that really big blonde cop? The one that could break you in half? Well, he just happens to be a good friend of both mine and Rachel's. Now, I could let you tell me what I want to know, or I could get that large, angry man in here and let him get you to tell me." I held my position again.

He looked around nervously. I could tell that he was debating what to tell me. Finally, there was a look of defeat on his face and he started talking. "He has a thing for me." He sat back down on the bed. "He's one of those faggots, y'know? Anyway, I found out about it a few months ago, and whenever a pussy isn't handy, I just fuck him." This guy was making me physically ill. "Your friend, I don't know, but a dead woman can't press charges."

The fucker actually smiled when he said that. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You disgust me," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I'll be very glad to see you put away for a long time, maybe have that stupid smirk wiped off your face by your large, hairy, and completely sex-starved cell-mate. If there is a way I can help put you in prison longer, believe me, I will."

I turned and left, but as I was walking out the door, I could hear him start to laugh.

I couldn't go home. I spent less than ten minutes with the guy and I was already completely pissed off. I drove around for a little bit, but eventually wound up in front of a coffee shop I used to visit all the time. I guess I never stopped, I just slowed down a lot. When school was over, I didn't need the caffeine jolt in the morning, so I just didn't go.

I went in and ordered my coffee and a donut. Vanilla cappuccino and Boston cream, if it matters. The place had pretty good coffee, and it was just obscure enough that it wasn't constantly busy. I took a table in a corner and just thought for a little bit.

Here was someone I didn't even know existed a few days ago, and he'd turned my life into a circus. Hell, it was bad enough that I was just starting something I'd been dreaming about for years, but along comes this asshole and nearly screws everything up. I thought about Jeff, too. He obviously had a lot of mental problems.

I guess it all came back to that one central question. Why would he do it? And what the hell kind of psycho thinks that's actually a way to get things done? I didn't get anything accomplished. Jeff needed help, but all I could think about was revenge. The worst part was that I realized I wouldn't get anything done if I kept thinking that, too. It was bad enough when he hurt Rachel. I love the girl, and seeing something like that happen to her was horrible. Still, the thing that set me off the most was what he did to Steve.

That thought triggered the realization that I'd have to get home soon to be there before he woke up. I finished my coffee (burning my tongue in the process) and left. On the way home, everything else was pushed out of my mind. The thought of waking him up by getting into bed and cuddling up next to him was paramount, which wasn't too good for my driving, but I liked it. Luckily, I didn't live on a highly-traveled street; it's a residential area, so the only people who drive there live there.

I pulled into the driveway and immediately made a bee-line to my bedroom. Steve was there, sitting on the bed with his back against the wall and his legs drawn up against him. It was the same position I was in the night before we got together.

I leaned in and kissed him. It lasted longer than I thought it would. He started to gently probe his tongue into my mouth, but stopped before we got too carried away.

"How're your ribs?" I asked as I was pulling off my shoes.

He reached up and rubbed his chest a little. "They're better, I guess. There's not as much pain as before, but they still hurt." I sat down next to him.

"Will you lay down with me for a little?" I asked.

He looked over at me and grinned a little. "You wanna fool around?" It wasn't an offer, merely a question.

"Not really, no." I shook my head. "I just wanna be with you for a while."

We repositioned ourselves so he was lying on his back. I was on his right side, since his left arm still had the bandage around it. My head was resting on his shoulder and my legs were drawn up a little. He wrapped his right arm around me.

It felt so good to be there with him. Being this close to him, able to smell him, made me feel safe and secure and protected. He always made me feel like that, but without making me feel weak. It was one of the many things I loved about him. Feeling content, I sighed a little.

He surprised me a little when he first spoke. "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how good it feels to be here with you." He made a little "mmm" noise in his throat. "I don't know what it is, but you make me feel warm. Inside, I mean. It feels like my throat's constricted, but in a good way that I don't want to stop. I've got the same thing in my stomach. You just make me feel--" I paused for a second before I said it, "--protected. Safe. Loved."

I sighed again, as happy and content as I had ever been.

"I've got the same things happening to me," he said after a while. "You've always made me feel needed. Yeah, I knew that you never actually did; you could always do whatever by yourself. But I wanted to be there. And you always let me. You know, you make me feel just as secure as I make you." He paused for a minute, swallowing a little. "You always have, I guess. I never really had anybody who needed me before you." I felt him swallow again, harder. I moved up a little, so I was at eye level with him.

I leaned over and kissed him on that spot just below the ear where the jaw-line ends. Neither of us said anything, but we really didn't need to. There was something heavy in the air, but it was a pleasant sort of thing. Steve's skin was warm. I've said it before, but there was just something sexy about that cute 5 o'clock shadow thing he had going on.

After a few more kisses, I moved back down and rested my head on his shoulder again. From there, I could feel his pulse, even through his (my) clothes. It was quiet for a few minutes while I just enjoyed the way being so close to him was making me feel.

"So, what did he say?" Again, I was a little startled when he spoke.

"Who?" I asked, not really thinking coherently. I was just on the edge of drifting off.

"I'm not that stupid," Steve said. I looked up a bit and immediately knew who he was talking about. My grip tightened around him a little. I stayed quiet for a few seconds. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, I want to." I took a deep breath. "He has a pretty good idea of why Jeff went after Rachel, but he doesn't know about you. I guess Jeff has a thing for Ryan now, and Ryan's been using that to his advantage to satisfy himself when there aren't any girls available. Jeff is so screwed up that he went after Rachel so she wouldn't be able to testify tomorrow." I finished by cuddling up closer, trying to get more of the security that was slowly slipping away from me.

"Damn," Steve whispered. His arm drew closer around me, too.

"That wasn't even the worst part." I closed my eyes and was hit with the image. "Ryan... he looked like he wasn't even a person anymore. His eyes were almost dead. It scared me. It was like he didn't even care that he had done things that wound up hurting so many people." I started breathing at a slower, more regular pace to try and calm myself down. I didn't want to get worked up over this. "When I was leaving, after I was done, he laughed. That stupid fucker laughed."

I knew he could tell how upset I was. I tried to pull him closer, to let his warmth just overtake me and let everything else go. It worked a little, but not as much as I hoped.

"It's okay," he said, stroking my hair a little. "He can't hurt us anymore. Neither of them can. Soon, they'll have Jeff in custody, and they'll both be going to prison for a very long time. Besides, you've still got me to protect you."

I smiled at that, and he could feel it, since my face was buried in his shoulder. He smiled a bit, too. Little by little, I felt myself start to relax again. Neither of us said anything as it was happening, but we could both feel it. After a while, being so close to him started to get me turned on again. I was sure he noticed that, too. Hell, it had been almost three days and we were horny teenagers.

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he asked. I could hear the smirk in his voice. I ground my hips against his leg a little while thinking of my response.

"I dunno, I guess you're just gonna have to make something up as we go," I said. "Of course, I could help you in the brainstorming department."

He smiled down at me and told me to go for it. I started by undressing myself, which is harder to do while reclined than you might think. Then I got to him. He was wearing one of my button-down, flannel-looking shirts with nothing underneath and the top few buttons undone. I straddled his waist and bent down, softly kissing the hollow of his neck. He smelled incredible. There was still a lingering hint of disinfectant from spending so much time in the hospital and not having showered yet, but mostly it was him. I moved lower, running my lips over the skin not covered by the shirt. When I got to the bottom of the V, I unbuttoned the rest of the way down.

I took a second to enjoy the view. Steve had his head back, eyes closed, and was just letting me do what I wanted to his body. His chest was very nice. It wasn't like he was all buffed up, but he had obviously done some work on it, either intentionally or as a side-effect of whatever else it was he had been doing. Yeah, of course he had body fat, but I liked that better than I would have if he was all gross and bodybuilderish. He was soft to the touch--something I did quite often. I bent down and kissed a line across, from nipple to nipple.

I moved lower. He actually didn't have much hair on his stomach, just a line down the middle that went past his navel and into his pants. I kissed my way down that, too. There's really no reason behind it, but I always loved his stomach. It wasn't a 6-pack or anything, but that wouldn't have fit in with what he looked like. I guess therewas a hint of it, but nothing more than that. I took a swipe across the smooth skin with my tongue, leaving a shiny, wet trail behind me. That made Steve sigh a little bit, which was okay with me.

I pushed the shirt off to the side. While I was down there, he had managed to get his arms out of the sleeves without my noticing. He sat up and I pulled the shirt off the bed, leaving it in a little ball on the floor. He was waiting for me to get started on the jeans, but I had other plans. I was in the mood to tease him. I brought my head down and pushed my mouth against the zipper, making him laugh a little. I continued down, biting him a little through the denim--nothing hard, just enough for him to feel it.

When I got to his feet, I stopped and pulled off his socks. It may make me sound like a bit more of a fetishist than I actually am, but the guy even had cute feet. I looked up at him and got one hell of a view. His hands were behind his head, propping it up a little so he could watch what I was doing. His skin was still a little tanned, but it was fading. We'd have to head down to the beach before it got too cold.

Once I had gotten enough of the view, I started moving back up, all the while dragging my fingers along his legs. Steve certainly did like that. When I reached the fly of his jeans, he seemed to be in a bit of a frenzy. I, of course, found it irresistible to tease him. I moved up a little more and started licking the area around his navel, but he reached down and pushed me back. I took the hint and undid his jeans, then slid them down to his ankles.

As he kicked them off, I noticed that he was wearing a pair of my boxer-briefs. They were a little snug on him, since his hips are about an inch or so bigger than mine, so they showed off his equipment very well. I licked around the prominent bulge, but the cotton dried my tongue faster than I thought it would, so I just yanked 'em down. The sight that greeted me was something that I could never prepare myself for. Steve's cock was hard, resting against his stomach. The head was glistening with his pre-cum and there was a small pool forming underneath it. The entire shaft would jump a little in time with his pulse. The entire scene was too much for me to take, so I bent forward and took the head into my mouth.

It tasted so damn good. There was a small hint of ginger (not quite, but that's the closest description), but mainly I tasted salt. I ran my tongue along the underside of the head, just below the rim, making him moan.

"Oh, damn Mike, I don't know how long I'm gonna last." Steve's breathing was getting harder even as he spoke. My hand was wrapped around his balls, so I could feel them tightening up. I couldn't stop--hell, I didn't want to stop. It had been too long since I last tasted his cum. Using my other hand, I slowly started jerking him off as I kept my lips around the head. It wasn't long until he was grunting and shooting into my mouth.

Steve's cum tasted a little different every time. I really couldn't place it, but it was never bad. It was just... him. My mouth started to fill up, so I swallowed, but still it kept coming. I enjoyed it immensely. Once he had finished, we both just kinda lay there, spent. Steve more so than me, but for some reason, I was drained. I crawled up and cuddled next to him for a few minutes.

Even naked, being cuddled up to Steve made me feel warm all over. We had both half-drifted, but weren't asleep. I enjoyed the feelings going through me. There was literally nothing better than being close to him. I don't know how, but I knew he felt the same, and that made it even better for me.

I reached down and rubbed my open palm across his stomach. He stirred and mumbled something, then reached down and moved my hand up to his chest.

"We should get dressed," I said. "Mom would freak if she saw us like this."

"I think she's already doing a pretty good job of that on her own." He sighed a little and snuggled up closer to me. I gave Steve a weird look. "What do you mean?"

"You seriously haven't noticed it?" He shook his head. "She hasn't said more than two words to me since she... umm... found out."

"Yeah? So? That doesn't mean anything. She never really talked to you that much."

Steve shook his head again. "I guess. I dunno. What I do know, though, is that we need to get showered and dressed, since she's going to be home soon."

"We should probably do that separately," I said, "since we wouldn't be able to keep our hands off of each other if we went in together."

"Good plan. I'll need to borrow some more clothes, since all of mine are in my dresser at home, and I really don't feel like going back there right now." He got up and started looking through my closet. "Not that I don't love wearing your clothes."

"Whatever." I grinned. "You wouldn't know good taste if it bit you on the ass. And I have."

"Screw you, Mikey-boy." He reached down and pulled out a very old striped polo shirt. "This is good taste? Brown and orange? I don't think so."

"Shut up, my mother bought that for me. I obviously didn't inherit my sense of taste from her." I thought for a second. "And Dad can't dress for crap, either, since he's been wearing uniforms since he was 18. I wonder where I got it from."

"I dunno, sexy, but I do know that I enjoy it." He grabbed a loose-fitting pair of black pants and a beige t-shirt from one of my drawers, then picked up a pair of underwear and some socks from my clean-clothes-waiting-to-be-put-away pile on the floor. "Back in a minute."

I lay back on the bed, a little tired, but strangely fulfilled. It was hard to describe, but whenever I was with Steve, I just felt good. That's not nearly a strong enough word, but it works. I decided that I'd go to his house and get his clothes for him after my shower. I figured that it would be easier on both of us if I didn't tell him, though. He'd want to go with and there'd be a big confrontation with his dad and nobody wanted that. Especially not me. I had had my share of confrontations for the day.

Steve came back in a few minutes, looking as sexy as ever. It was all I could do to keep myself from groping him as I walked by. He grabbed me, though.

I showered and got dressed in a very short amount of time, then told Steve I was going out for a few minutes to get something. He just nodded at me and went channel surfing in the living room.

His house wasn't really that far from mine. We used to walk or ride our bikes before we could drive, but once we got our licenses, it was just easier to drive, since we were usually going out and doing something anyway. On the road, I thought about how many secrets I'd been keeping from everybody lately. It was weird, especially for me. I mean, sure, I had that one big one, but it was pretty much known to everybody who mattered now. I wasn't good at keeping secrets, either. Most of the people who knew I was gay had already figured it out before I told them. I am good at avoiding the issue, though.

Steve's dad's car was in the driveway when I pulled in. I almost left without getting anything, but I figured that Steve's need for clothes outweighed my need to avoid his father. I turned the engine off and went in. His father was sitting in a chair in the living room, but I passed him without saying anything. I just wanted to pack a bag as quickly as I could without any trouble.

I got a lot of his socks and underwear into an old gym bag I found in the closet before his father came in. He just stood there and looked at me for a minute. I pretended not to notice. I grabbed several t-shirts from a drawer and stuffed them into the bag. I wasn't even looking at the colors; I just wanted out. Being under that glare was making me more uncomfortable by the second. Finally I gave in and looked up at him.

"So are you going to just stand there and stare at me or did you have something to say?" I played the alpha-male card again. It wasn't quite as effective. He took a step toward me, but I shook my head. "If you even think about touching me, he'll kill you. And that's not an exaggeration."

He stopped in mid-step. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I looked down at the half-full bag, then back up at him. "Wow, it's true," I said, taking a risk I really shouldn't have, "you people really are that stupid."

"Stupid pansy-ass faggot," he muttered under his breath. He turned and went toward the door.

"You disgust me." I stood up, not caring about being safe anymore. Steve's dad just looked at me, a little shocked. "You find out your son is gay, so you immediately jump him and kick him out? Yeah, that sounds like good parenting to me. Oh, hey, let me guess. He's not going to grow up to be exactly like his dear old father, so he gets booted out. That sounds good to me."

"Don't tell me how to deal with my kids." He took up a defensive stance and I could tell that I was hitting a nerve.

"Deal with?" I asked, almost laughing. "I don't call throwing him out and telling him not to come back dealing with him. You weren't even at the fucking hospital when he almost died. That shows me that you don't even give a fuck about him. At least his mother is trying."

"Fucking faggot," he mumbled. He turned to leave again.

"Yeah, just resort to the insults and leave," I said. "That's the way a real man deals with his problems."

"What the hell do you know about how a real man solves his problems?" He turned back to me, his arms across his chest in a classic defensive posture. "You're just a limp-wristed, ass-swishing, lisping little faggot."

"And so is your son. Tell me how many of the stereotypes he fits." I could tell I had him now. I knew it'd take time, but the look on his face when I said that was priceless. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish packing his clothes. He won't be coming back here any time soon."

He left without saying another word. I finished packing, leaving behind some of Steve's uglier clothes. All clothing purchases would have to be made through me from then on. Steve's father was gone by the time I left his room. I threw the bag in the passenger's seat and sped off toward home. With the number of cops on my road, it was amazing that I hadn't been pulled over yet. Almost everyone I knew (including my mother, which was incredibly funny) had been pulled over and given a ticket.

"Hey sexy," I said as I walked in the door, the bag slung over my shoulder. "I have presents!"

"Ooh! Lemme see!" Steve jumped up and grabbed the bag. He got a slightly concerned look on his face when he looked inside. "These are my clothes. Why are my clothes in a bag in your house?"

"Because I just went and got them, you big dumb jock boy." I smiled at him, then plopped myself down in the armchair. "Just go put them away."

"Yeah, sure." Steve turned and started walking off, but turned back to me. "Was he there?"

I nodded. "We had a nice discussion. It was fun."

He chuckled a little. "I would have gone with you, ya know."

"I know," I said. "That's why I didn't tell you where I was going. But now I'm sick of talking to and about people I don't like, so you're going to go put away your clothes and then come out here so I can snuggle up to you on the couch and watch TV like the good little vegetable I am."

Steve laughed and shook his head, then disappeared down the hall. He was gone for five or ten minutes; I wasn't really watching the clock. I flipped channels until he came back. He sat with his back toward the corner of the couch, which left me able to lie down with my back against his stomach. It was nice and secure and comfortable and warm. His arm was wrapped around my chest, not supporting me, but not letting me fall. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and went back to channel surfing.

I guess I fell asleep again, since the next thing I knew, I was lying in my bed. I looked over at the clock; it was 6:30, or somewhere thereabouts. I stood up, realized that I was no longer wearing shoes, and made my way out to the living room. My mother was in the kitchen fixing dinner and Steve was still on the couch, watching some syndicated game show. I sat down next to him.

"Not three words," he said. I gave him a funny look, so he nodded toward the kitchen. I heard Mom wandering around and cooking.

"Aah." I nodded. "Well, I guess it's got to be awkward for her. What's she going to talk to you about? 'So... is Mike a good lay?'"

"I guess." He shook his head. "Who'd have thought that your dad's more accepting than your mom?"

"I dunno. Don't you think it's weird the way he went from 'Get out you little faggot,' to 'Sure, your boyfriend can move in!'?" I heard Dad's car pull into the driveway. "Well speak of the devil."

Dad came in and headed toward his bedroom to get changed from his uniform. The nursing home where he works has a very flexible scheduling system, which means that he can be home at a normal time on some days. Of course, it also means that he can work until 5 in the morning some days, but he lives with it.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, I wanna go talk to him." I got up and left Steve on the couch. He started flipping channels again.

I knocked on the door and went in. "Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," Dad said as he sat down on the bed. He had just finished getting dressed in his "normal" clothes. "Whatcha need?"

I sat down next to him. "I know this is going to sound like a weird question, but why did you suddenly get okay with me and Steve? I mean, first you're yelling, then you're okay with it. What's up?"

Dad sighed. "Do you know your uncle Robert?" I shook my head, slightly confused. "No, I don't suppose you would. I don't, either, really. He's 8 or 9 years older than I am. When I was ten, Robert told your papaw that he was gay. Papaw didn't react too well to the news. He kicked Robert out and I haven't seen him since. He used to send birthday cards and things like that to me, but I never got them. I didn't even find out until your mamaw told me. She always felt bad about what happened, but there wasn't anything she could do. That's why they got divorced, actually. But we could never find Robert--the cards stopped after a while, and nobody knows where he lives now."

"Wow." I blinked a few times. "I had no idea. Hasn't anybody tried to track Robert down?"

"No, I don't think so. Uncle Kenny might have once or twice, but he didn't have any luck." Dad reached over and hugged me, something he hadn't done in quite a while. "I just didn't want to lose you the way I lost Robert. But then I do the exact same thing as my father. At least I had a chance to fix it. I'm sorry."

That almost made me burst into tears. I pulled away from the hug and smiled at him. "You don't need to be sorry. I guess I can understand why you reacted the way you did. And I'm glad you had a chance to fix it, too."

"Damn, look at me," Dad said as he reached up and rubbed his eye. He chuckled a little and so did I. We both got up and went out to the living room. I joined Steve on the couch again, not quite as close as before, but still snuggled up to him. Dad didn't even blink.

I spent a few more minutes like that. It was nice. I could feel the warmth of his skin and the beating of his heart. He had the most wonderful scent, too. Yeah, yeah, I like the way he smells, I've said it a billion times before. I'll probably say it many, many more times in the future, too. The boy is just cute.

My mother came out of the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Steve and me. He and I noticed, and I'm quite sure Dad noticed it, too. I sat up and scooted myself a few inches over. Dad shook his head.

"I think you boys have time for a nice walk before dinner," he said. Steve and I nodded, then got up to get some shoes on. On our way out the door, Dad said, "I'll talk to her."

Outside, I sat down on the front step. Steve joined me and rested his head on my shoulder. We just stayed like that for a minute or two, each of us lost in his own thoughts. I kept wondering how it was going in the house. My father could be pretty persuasive (he had been a recruiter for the Army a while ago), but my mother could be just as stubborn. I felt Steve sigh next to me and looked over at him.

"Well, let's go," Steve said. He stood up and reached a hand down to help me up, too. "There's something I wanted to show you, anyway."

There's a forest right across the street from where I live. Actually, it's more like the outskirts of a forest; I live very close to a state park, which is pretty much a nice way of saying trashy campground. Still, it can be nice. Sometimes I walk the dog there. Anyway, I followed Steve through the forest, having to keep pretty close since it was dark. It didn't take that long to make our way through.

About ten minutes after we had started, we ended up in the back yard of a house. I recognized it almost immediately. The owners had been trying to sell it for the past five years or so, but it was a pretty expensive house in a pretty bad (i.e., trailer-trashy) area. As the story went, the owners won the lottery and fixed up the house, but then decided to move. They had done a lot of work on it, too. It was a two story with a complete outdoor porch/patio thing, two car garage, and even an in-ground, Olympic-size pool. That was where Steve headed.

"Come on in, the water's fine!" He yelled as he climbed down the stairs on the shallow-end of the drained pool. I chuckled a little and joined him. He made his way over to the far wall, where he sat down. I positioned myself next to him.

"So this is what you wanted to show me?" I asked, looking around at the concrete walls. "Nice and claustrophobic."

"This was where Jeff and I would come to be alone. He told me this was where he did a lot of stuff, actually. I think he still deals from here." He noticed my crooked eyebrow and laughed. "No, he doesn't like set up shop here or anything. It's just a good, nondescript, easy-to-find place where he meets people."

"You know way too much about this drug dealer stuff," I said, smiling. He grinned back at me.

"Hey, you learn a lot when you date one." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "So what do you think they're talking about?"

"That's an easy one," I said, smiling. "How evil and bad we homosexuals are, of course."

Steve reached over and playfully smacked me on the ear. "No, seriously. Your mom has got some big issues with the whole 'Mike is gay' thing."

"Yes, and I use humor to diffuse the situation. It's what I do."

"I guess." Steve leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. It was that kind of small, thoughtful, sweet gesture that made me constantly rediscover why I loved him so much. "We should get going. There's going to be lots of talking and feeling now, isn't there?"

I nodded. "Yep. And sharing, too, probably. Isn't it horrible?" I got another smack for that.

We started to make our way back through the woods to my house when Steve stopped and leaned against a tree. I didn't notice for a second, but when I didn't hear leaves and twigs crunching in front of me, I stopped and looked around. In the dim light from the moon, I could see him standing there with his thumbs hooked into his pants pockets, looking at me.

"Ya know, I've always kinda had this fantasy about us." I could make out the slight glint of the light off of his teeth as he smiled.

"Let me guess. It's a you and me having sex in the woods fantasy, isn't it?" I stepped closer and smiled back at him. He nodded. "Well then, let's just see what we can do about that, shall we?"

Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube of lubricant, then handed it to me. "I want you to take me... right here, under the trees." I leaned forward and kissed him. He didn't have to ask me twice.

I reached down and undid his pants, pulling both them and his underwear down to his knees with one tug. I couldn't resist taking his almost-fully-hard cock into my mouth for a few seconds. I absolutely loved the way he tasted, especially his pre-cum. He pulled out of my mouth and turned around, though, but I didn't mind that view too much, either. He put his arm against the tree and leaned his forehead against it. I pulled his pants all the way down to his ankles and he spread his legs as wide as they would allow. I leaned in and just barely pushed my face into his crack.

It wasn't dirty at all; he was just a little bit musky, but I liked that. I licked my way up and down his crack, but his whimpering told me to do more. I pushed my tongue into his hole as deeply as I could and he gasped. He obviously wasn't expecting that, but he bucked his hips backwards to show his appreciation. I reached down and undid my own pants, then grabbed the lube and put a little bit on my index finger. I pulled my mouth away and started rubbing my finger against, but not into, Steve's extremely hot asshole. The sounds coming from above me urged me on again, though, so I started pushing into him. It was like he sucked my finger in, because the next thing I knew, I was down to my last knuckle. I smiled and started to slowly fuck him with just that one finger.

"Mmm, yeah Mike, that's good," he moaned. I took the hand I was using to steady myself off his ass and got two more fingers slicked up, since I knew I'd be needing them soon. I pulled out for just a second, but pushed two fingers in before Steve had time to complain. I heard a sharp intake of breath, but otherwise nothing but moaning. I slowly pushed those in and out of him for a few seconds before they were joined by another. After a few more seconds of twisting and pushing, he was loosened up enough for me. I stood up and pushed my pants down to my ankles, jerked myself a few times to get lubed up, then guided the very tip of my cock to his hole.

"Come on, babe, push it in me!" Steve almost yelled. I didn't, though. I slowly pushed the head in, but pulled back out right before the rim went in. I did that a few more times, teasing him, until he got so frustrated that he pushed himself back and got half of me into him at once. That brought a very loud moan from both of us.

"Know what? We can be as loud as we want and nobody's going to find out," I said, licking my way from his neck to his ear. Steve moaned, apparently not able to form words as my cock went deeper into him. It was a cool night, so both of us had our balls drawn up tight against ourselves. I reached underneath Steve and started to gently massage his, making them looser. I pushed the last possible millimeter of my cock into him and moaned--I'm talking a loud, gut-wrenching, straight from the throat moan that anybody in a half-mile radius would have heard.

Steve's ass was so hot and so tight that I knew I wouldn't be able to last very long. I pulled myself about halfway out, then pushed back in as hard as I could. From the moan I got, I must have hit his prostate. It was an incredible feeling, knowing that I could bring him so much pleasure just by doing something as simple as that. I did it a few more times, but felt myself too close to the edge, so I pushed in and stayed there for a few minutes.

I kept one hand kneading and rubbing Steve's balls, and with the other I alternately reached up his shirt and played with his nipples, then reached down and stroked his now-dripping cock. Steve doesn't really produce that much pre-cum on average, but having this fantasy fulfilled must have gotten him going, because both my hand and his cock were entirely covered in it. When I felt myself start to calm down a bit more, I pulled out all the way to the base of the head, then pushed back in quickly. He gasped again, then squeezed his ass tight around me. The entire time I had been trying to calm down, he had been flexing and relaxing, massaging my cock all over. I started to push in and out more rapidly, giving in to the impulses flowing through me. All I wanted was to fill this gorgeous man in front of me with my hot, rapidly building cum.

I could feel Steve getting closer, too. I had put all of my focus onto his beautifully slick cock and could feel it pulsing in that way it had just before he came. Finally, with one last stroke of my hand, thick, white ropes of Steve's jizz were fired onto both the tree and my hand. His orgasm made his muscles tighten up, which set me off. I felt wave after wave of my cum go from inside me to inside him, and the thought that I was actually leaving a piece of myself inside this gorgeous guy I loved so much made the entire experience so much hotter that I actually was afraid I might pass out.

As my orgasm subsided, I brought my hand to my mouth and licked off every bit of Steve's cum I could get. It tasted so fucking good I wanted to drop to my knees right there and get another helping of it, but I didn't, since we were already a whole lot later than we thought we would be. I slowly pulled my cock out of Steve, but decided to go for what I wanted anyway. I knelt behind him, spread his cheeks, and gently licked the area around his hole. A tiny bit of my cum leaked out and I licked it up, since that was what I wanted in the first place. I suppose it's a good thing we use a flavorless lubricant. After getting all there was to get, I stood up and kissed Steve. He enjoyed the taste of our combined cum, judging by the way he tried to jam his tongue down my throat.

I'm not sure how, but we finally managed to get ourselves cleaned up and presentable enough to head back home. The walk was short and quiet, but we were arm-in-arm the entire way, not caring if anybody saw us. That's one of the best things about post-orgasmic euphoria, and one of the worst, I suppose.

When we got to my house, both Susan's and George's cars were in the driveway. They were sitting on the couch with my father, talking when we got in. They all had very grim looks on their faces.

Wow, and I thought chapter 7 took a long time to get out. It's been three months since the last chapter! Wow. I had no idea it had been that long. There have been many developments in my life, including a relationship, an attempt at a new job, and my outing to several people without my knowledge. Combine this with general laziness and writer's block, and you've got a 3 month delay in the works.

Yes, I know that I left you with a cliffhanger. That's really more to encourage me to write than to encourage you to read, though I would appreciate it. I'd just like to formally announce right here that chapter 9 will be the end of this storyline. This will not be the end of Steve and Mike, however. I will be continuing the series, but it may take me a little bit (though probably not 3 months).

As usual, many thanks to Andy, who keeps my work legible and sane. You're great. I'd also like to ask a favor from my readers: if anybody can provide or knows of a good web hosting service, please let me know. I'm looking to set up a website for both Steve and future stories. Features I need include FTP access, SSI, CGI access would be nice (but it's definitely not necessary), and no banner ads. I'm anal retentive about my designs and most ad banners are very hard to fit into a scheme.

Send constructive feedback (or maybe not so constructive, just don't be mean) on this story to Billy Bunny ( Flamers will have to listen to Beck lyrics and attempt to make sense of them.