Best Gay Romance 2013 (12 page)

Lyle raised Mike's foot to his mouth and began to suckle his big toe, as though it were a smaller version of his cock.

“Fuck,” Mike growled. “Aw, fuck…”

Lyle continued nursing on Mike's toes, but worried he'd gone too far, that the realization of the line they'd crossed would hit fully home to Mike, sending a man who had already been sorely tested by life in recent weeks into a blind rage.

“
Fuck
,” Mike repeated.

Lyle glanced up to see Mike's eyes were open, as if telegraphing that he had, indeed, come out of his trance, had landed hard and found another dude touching and tasting him in a way most straight men would find unthinkable.

Lyle spit the toe out of his mouth. “Mike?”

“I don't fuckin' believe it. Dude…”

For several tense seconds, Lyle was sure Mike was going to deck him. But then Mike snaked both hands down to his crotch and hastily unzipped his blue jeans. He fished out his dick and let it hang in clear view, gloriously hard.

“I haven't gotten a boner since this whole fuckin' nightmare
started,” Mike said, a wide smile breaking across his handsome face. “Not since…fuck…thanks, man.”

Mike eased his foot away from Lyle's mouth and leaned forward, cupping his cheeks in both powerful hands. A mix of relief and giddy excitement flooded Lyle's insides.

“I told you there were other parts of your body more important, you know, than balls,” Lyle said, smiling back.

For a moment, he wondered if Mike, overwhelmed by excitement, might actually kiss him, crush their mouths together, perhaps wrangle Lyle's tongue into submission with his. The look in Mike's eyes said all that his lips could not, that Lyle had pulled him back from the dead, had saved him body and soul, and that Lyle had given him a better gift than any woman—any
person
—ever had.

“So how about you help me out with this part, now,” Mike growled, releasing Lyle's face and giving his cock a shake.

By the time Mike returned to the job, Lyle had revealed other secrets about his body Mike hadn't considered before the surgery, that toes and earlobes, throat and armpits, legs and asshole could also give a man an amazing erection thanks to the licks of another male's tongue, if he simply opened himself up to the possibilities of finding love in unexpected places.

 

Lyle didn't see Kevin's elbow coming at him. Lightning quick, the powerful jab collided with his shoulder, knocking him into the nearby shelf.

“Sorry,” Kevin said. It was obvious by the chuckle he added that he really wasn't.

Lyle straightened. Less than a minute later, Kevin was on his knees in front of him, held in place by a powerful armlock.

“Apologize,” Mike ordered.

“Let go of me, fucker!”

“Oh, dude, I'm
this close
to letting you go—right out the fuckin' door, unless you make good with your esteemed coworker and cut the shit.”

“I was just joking around,” Kevin pleaded.

“Nobody's laughing. This guy you've been fucking with has more balls than you, me, and the rest of the warehouse combined. I see or hear one more deliberate attack against him, I'll clean house. You and your pals got that straight?”

“Yeah,” Kevin muttered, surrendering. “I'm sorry.”

Mike released him. “Now prove it. Get the fuck back to work!”

Kevin grumbled a blue streak of curses under his breath, but none of them were directed against Lyle.

“You okay, pal?” Mike asked.

Lyle rubbed his shoulder. “Sure am.”

Mike nodded and turned to go, but then pivoted back in Lyle's direction. “You up for hanging out tonight?”

“Always.”

“Game's on, and maybe you could stay over. You know…”

“Love to,” Lyle said.

As he turned to continue filling the order he'd been picking when Kevin side-armed him, Mike gave Lyle's butt a friendly pat. Lyle cast a look at the prominent bulge in Mike's camouflage pants, no longer afraid of stealing glances because permission had been granted.

The ones had become two.

Natty Soltesz

 

 

 

 

 

 

Randy Perletti came out of the closet when he was nineteen. His mom cried. His dad stayed silent and retreated to the backyard shed. A few hours later his older sister, Becky, called from her apartment in Pittsburgh.

“How could you do this to them?” she said with all the righteousness she could muster from her three-and-a-half years as a psychology major. “You're their only son, Randy. Can't you understand how this would affect them? Don't you want to get married and have kids someday?”

Randy sighed. For much of his first semester at college he'd been holed up in his dorm room exchanging blow jobs with his well-hung roommate, Chuck. Chuck had undergone a Christian reawakening just a week before, though, and had asked for a room exchange.

Randy was no stranger to curious straight boys and their post–blow job blues. Usually he'd ignore the pain, but this one had left him feeling weirdly courageous. If God took stock in the
fact that you liked the smell of your lacrosse-playing roommate's sweaty balls, well, what did that say about God?

“Love is the most sacred thing you can experience,” Becky continued, “and you want to write it off, just like that.”

“Give me a fucking break, Becky. Just 'cause you have a boyfriend now after, like, eight years of crying into your pillow and listening to Karen Carpenter doesn't make you an expert on relationships.” Becky didn't say anything. “I'm gay. Get the fuck over it.” He hung up the phone and headed upstairs.

“Where are you going?” his dad called from the couch.

“To my room,” Randy said, exasperated. His parents watched him, as though fascinated that gay people ascended staircases to rooms.

Fortunately his parents were still in shock that spring when Randy dropped his second bomb and told them he wasn't going back to school. They even let him move back home. He got a job washing dishes at the diner and another job cleaning buildings on Market Street. He was saving money (he wasn't sure what for) and still had enough for gas and a weekly lid of pot. He was happy at home in Groom, Pennsylvania, where things were safe and familiar. Most of his high school buddies were still around. A few of them were more than pleased to have him back, for Randy was as discreet as he was up for anything.

 

Randy met Becky's boyfriend, Dominic Posvar, for the first time on Memorial Day at his parents' house.

“I've heard a lot about you,” Randy said, shaking Dom's hand which, like the rest of him, was thick and strong.

“Me, too,” Dom said, and he blushed. Becky was engaged to Dom by then and was in the midst of planning an insanely elaborate ceremony, wringing as much stress and drama from the process as she could. Randy figured it was her punishment
to the world for not having noticed her sooner.

Randy was asked to be a groomsman, but stuck to the sidelines as the wedding date neared, grateful that the family's attention had been diverted from him. Dom seemed glad to acquiesce to Becky's whims and go with the flow. He wasn't unfriendly to Randy, nor did he reach out, but as the weeks went by Randy started noticing things: glances that lasted too long, nervous tics whenever they were together in a room. A telepathic dialogue was manifesting itself.

Dom bunked at the Perletti house the night before the wedding, while Becky stayed with her bridesmaids across town. Randy was up late watching TV when Dom came downstairs, wearing a white V-neck T-shirt that hugged his muscles, and blue pajama pants.

“Hey,” he said to Randy. Randy hadn't expected anyone to be up this late and was wearing just his boxers. He didn't mind showing off his thin, defined body, which was tanned a golden brown.

Dom seemed half asleep. He rubbed his hands over his close-shorn, sandy-haired head, then shuffled to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. He sat down on the couch next to Randy.

“What are you doing up?” Randy asked.

“Just jittery I guess. What about you?”

“Too much coffee at the rehearsal dinner. Well, that and I'm nervous too. First family gathering since…well…you know.” Dom's head snapped to the TV. He took a too-quick drink of his milk and it spilled down the sides of his mouth.

“Crap,” he said and lifted his shirt to wipe his face. Randy couldn't help but look. Dom's stomach was thick but tight, with a blondish happy trail that disappeared into his pajama pants.

“I guess it's normal to be nervous,” Randy said, shifting his gaze. “Anyway I'm sure Becky would understand if you changed
your mind.” Dom smiled. He took another swig from the glass, this one more successful.

“I just wish it was over,” Dom said. Randy gave him a sympathetic smile. After a moment, Dom lifted his shirt again. He wiped his mouth even though there wasn't anything there, and he did it slowly. He watched Randy gaze at his body as he tugged his shirt back down, until their eyes met and they realized they'd caught each other in the act.

So Becky got hitched and Randy got drunk. The new couple bought a house in Groom just a few blocks from the Perletti house. Dom, who had a bachelor's degree in communications, took a job managing the Groom Motor Lodge on the highway while Becky looked for work.

 

One night after the newlyweds came for dinner at the Perletti house, Randy fell asleep in the easy chair while Dom watched TV from the couch. The first thing Randy noticed when he awoke was Dom watching him. Dom quickly averted his eyes back to the TV, his face flushing. Randy reddened himself when he realized what Dom had been staring at—a conspicuous tent in his sweats from the industrial-sized boner he'd sprung in his sleep.

The next Friday Becky recruited her brother to help paint the new couple's bedroom. When he arrived Dom was already rolling paint onto the walls, and Becky was getting dressed for a job interview in Latrobe.

“They called me at the last minute,” she said. “Hopefully you guys will be all right?”

“I'm sure we can manage,” Randy said. Becky looked to her husband.

“Dom? You'll be okay with just Randy here?”

“Why wouldn't we be?” Randy said again. Becky ignored him.

“Sure, honey,” Dom said, and Becky said she'd be back in a few hours.

There was some brief awkwardness after she left, but small talk was one of Randy's strengths, and he easily maneuvered them into friendly waters.

“Is married life all it's cracked up to be?” he asked as he loaded up his brush with periwinkle paint.

“I wasn't expecting anything, I don't think,” Dom said. “It's nice though. You know—comfortable. I don't have to wonder about, like, going out on a Friday night, looking for whatever, getting drunk. That gets old.”

“You don't like to drink?” Randy said.

“Well, sometimes I do.”

“Good, cause I brought a six-pack. We can split it.” By the time they finished painting they had two beers left. They were cleaning off their brushes and rollers in the utility room, the close quarters heady with the smell of sweaty bodies.

“Wish the pool was still open,” Dom said.

“We should go up to Bolivar Falls,” Randy said. “You ever been?”

“No,” Dom said, then hesitated. Into the vacuum of his silence rushed sexual tension. Randy hadn't intended it, but there it was.

“I've heard of it,” Dom continued, whacking a brush off the side of the sink. “We could take the rest of the beer.”

“Sure,” Randy said, his heart picking up speed. “Becky won't care, right? We can leave her a note or something.”

“Don't bother,” Dom said.

After a ten-minute drive they started the two-mile hike into the woods. They were soaked in sweat again by the time they got to the falls, a forest glen with a creek that dropped off into a deep pool. There was graffiti on the rocks and some
strewn-about trash, but it had a secretive charm.

“I guess we can go in in our underwear?” Randy said.

“Sure,” Dom said, emboldened by the beer and the beauty of the place. He stripped down and Randy followed suit. Dom's tighty-whities hugged the generous curves of his muscular butt and acted like a sling for his beefy cock. Randy was embarrassed to reveal his patterned bikini briefs—a purchase he'd made out of boredom and horniness one night while stuck at the mall with his mom.

Dom swept his eyes up and down Randy's body and Randy did the same to Dom. Before either could register anything Dom turned and ran for the ledge, springing himself over the waterfall and into the air, crashing into the pool below.

“It's freezing!” he called. Randy approached the edge. He felt the slick rock beneath his feet. He jumped, fear and release rushing through his body for a drawn-out instant before he plunged into the water.

“It feels fucking amazing!” Randy said, his breathing short and shallow. They laughed with exhilaration.

Later they lay on the warm rock above the waterfall.

“Did you have a good time at the wedding?” Dom asked.

“Yeah, man.”

“It wasn't awkward for you? I mean, you said you thought it might be.”

“Well, the open bar helped.” Dom laughed. “I don't care what people think of me, anyway,” Randy said. Dom drank the last of his beer.

“You mean the fact that you're…”

“Gay. Yeah. That.”

“Yeah,” Dom said. Birds squawked in the trees. “I was wondering… Like, how did you know you were? I mean, did you ever date girls?”