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A Different Perspective Ch. 02

By: viola47



He didn't call.

I really shouldn't have been surprised by that. Or hurt, given what he had been through. The past year had been hard enough. First Mark's affair, then his death, and then Travis's withdraw from the world. Having Travis brush me off for so long hurt, and I had tried to be supportive. I realize now that he pushed me away for an entirely different reason, and that hurt, too. Part of me was offended he would think I was capable of that, of sleeping with Mark. Really, really offended. I would never knowingly sleep with someone in a relationship, especially not my best friend's boyfriend. I'm not that kind of guy, and Travis knew that. At the same time, I heard what he read, and given that, well, how could he have thought any different? It did sound bad, taken out of context.

It sounded bad in context, too. I should have told him Mark was having an affair.

Mark was convincing, though, and that was the problem. How I could I not believe that he would tell Travis? I knew they loved each other. You don't make it through nine years without something there. Nine years was a long time, and everybody has their problems. Given, I couldn't really sympathize with Mark, but for Travis's sake I was willing to try. Cheating? And cheating on someone like Travis? How stupid could you be? Mark had it made, and he didn't realize it. It made me sick. I mean, Travis is perfect, and he always has been. Nice, open, sociable. He's everybody's go-to guy. You have a problem, he'll help you out, no judgment, no hassle. You need a shoulder to cry on, or a ride, or ten bucks for gas, and he'll have you covered. Plus he's neat and funny and smart, and has a good job, and -- just because he wasn't already perfect enough -- completely hot. Mark was an absolute moron, and when I saw him with that other guy, Adam, I wanted to punch Mark and bitch slap Adam. Truly, I did, and I'm normally more of a pacifist, but seeing what Mark was doing made my blood boil. 

So, yeah, I believed Mark. For a while. A couple of weeks went by, and I knew he hadn't told Travis. I knew, because even if Travis didn't tell me, something would have happened. Instead, they carried on like normal, and I came over on Thursdays to play Scrabble with Travis, and everybody was happy. Normal as can be, except I had this ton of bricks I was lugging around. So, I confronted Mark again. He told me what I wanted to hear. Again. See, it was holidays, he said. He had wanted to wait until after New Year's, because he couldn't stand the thought of ruining the holidays. And, just in case Travis left him, he wanted to have one last good memory. The guilt was eating him up inside, he said, but he wanted that last New Year's. I couldn't blame him, although I figured they'd probably work it out. 

Only, Mark never told him. A month went by. I waited until after Valentine's Day to talk to him about it again. He gave me the same lines, he felt so bad about, all that, but I wasn't buying it. I told him I was telling Travis. Then, the kicker, and the part that makes me feel like shit -- I didn't tell Travis. Why? Why didn't I just suck it up and do it? I keep asking myself that. I should have. Mark pointed a couple of things out, though, and I was afraid he was right. For one, Travis would want to know why I had waited so long. Why had I waited so long? Oh, right, because I had believed Mark. The way Mark said it, though, it sounded so weak. For what he lacked in physical appeal he more than made up for with verbal finesse. The man could talk a nun out of her panties, pardon the cliché -- and maybe it should be a priest out of his robes. He had me convinced that Travis would be pissed I had waited, like somehow that made me just as guilty as Mark. The real kicker, though, is that Mark said that would happen if -- if -- Travis even believed me. Why wouldn't he believe me? Why, because I was the jealous wing-man, forever pining over his friend. Mark implied Travis would think I was just trying to stir up trouble in hopes of getting into Travis's pants. And under those circumstances, who would Travis believe? The lame single friend, or his long-time lover? Mark didn't pitch it like that. Mark pitched it like he knew I was the jealous, pining loser, and he was telling me that for my own good. Truthfully? I am the jealous, pining loser.

It was the end of April, a Friday evening, when I got Travis's frantic phone call. He needed me, he said, right then, at that moment. He was at the hospital. He wasn't crying as far as I could tell, but his voice had an odd shake to it that I had never heard. When he first started talking, I thought that Mark had told him the truth, finally. Boy, was I wrong. Mark was dead. A car accident, involving some spilt diesel fuel. That stuff is slick, and some poor old guy's truck skidded out and hit Mark's Honda. Not the guys fault, but I'm not sure that made the old man feel any better. The old man was injured, but not like Mark in his little car. I heard it was messy. Mark was pronounced dead at the hospital.

I was there every step of the way, helping Travis with the funeral arrangements, calling family and friends. Mark's immediate family had cut him off when he came out, so it really was all on Travis's shoulders. It was horrible, but he kept it together. He cried a few times, but not much. Mostly, he was just quiet and withdrawn. Eric helped out a lot, too, with his boyfriend Kyle. I hadn't gotten to know Kyle that well, even though they had been dating almost a year at that point, but he helped out a lot, even though he didn't need to. I respect that. 

About a month after the funeral and Travis changed. Before, he was devastated, but he functioned. Suddenly, he was withdrawn and grouchy. Our phone conversations lasted all of two minutes, and he found every excuse not to see me. I couldn't understand it, but I thought maybe it was a part of the grieving process. I called Eric, and we talked about it, because Eric had noticed the same change. Only, Eric could actually convince Travis to see him once in a while, while Travis made it very clear he did not want me stopping by, nor did he plan on going out. Hurt? Of course, but everybody morns differently. I figured it had something to do with that. Besides, he wasn't seeing Eric often, and he would usually manage to cancel at the last minute. I know Eric stopped by unexpectedly, though, and that Travis let him in. I didn't have the guts to just drop by like that.

It took a month after that fateful day with Kyle, Eric, and Travis before I had the courage to call Travis. It was killing me, not having him in my life. It had killed me for the six months or so he had withdrawn from me, and it continued to kill me. It was like I had a sharp ache in the place that Travis used to fill. At least light had been shed on why Travis had withdrew from me, but really, it didn't make it any easier. So, I called. No answer, so I left a message. I figured I wouldn't hear from him again.

"What's wrong, baby?" 

I looked up to find Dave leaning in the doorway to my bedroom. He walked over and sat on the bed next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. We had been seeing each other for about four months, but we weren't too serious. I shrugged.

"Aww, baby, come on," he murmured, brushing his lips over my ear. I shivered. "I think I know what you need."

I let him push me back on the bed and straddle my hips. He kissed me as he ground his hips into mine, and managed to get a groan out of me. Dave was good. The only problem, thus far -- and it was getting to be a bigger problem the longer we saw each other -- was that Dave was Top Only. Now, I may seem like a big fairy sometimes... like the fact that I cry when I watch Beaches, and Martha Stewart is one of my favorite people in the whole world... but I'm more of a switch than a bottom, and I usually prefer to top. I guess my problem lies with the fact that I tend to go for straight-acting guys. And straight-acting guys that go for guys like me -- basically, a twink -- are usually tops, at least in my experience. Insert big sigh here.

Well, on the subject of inserting... Dave was working my jeans off. As he yanked them down past my knees he captured my cock in his mouth, and I can't help but moan. He teases me by just sucking on the head, then taking his mouth away and blowing a cool breath over my damp cock. My cock twitches, and he chuckles, a deep sound from down in his chest. Suddenly, my cock is back in his mouth, my head stuffed in his throat, and his hand is fisting the shaft of my cock that won't fit in his mouth. I almost cum from the suddenness of it all, but I manage to hold back. I run my fingers through his soft brown hair, and wish it was a little longer so that I could really hold onto it. Instead I grab him by the ears and push myself deeper, until he gags. I back off, then push again. His hand is pumping furiously with his bobbing head, and I see a sudden flash of someone else in front of me -- I imagine longer, blacker hair over my cock, fisting me and sucking me, and I come -- hard. 

My mind is reeling. I'm not usually the type whose mind goes to mush after an orgasm -- well, not much, at least -- but my mind was total mush. It had happened again. I imagined someone else while I was having sex with my boyfriend. I admit; it was a recurring problem. Travis used to tell me that maybe it was because I wasn't getting what I needed out of the relationship. Could just be I had a hard-on for someone else.

I let myself be flipped over, and felt Dave kissing my back and neck as he rubbed my ass with some very cold lube. Mush mind or not, I really did not want to have anal sex with Dave at that moment. I protested, but Dave shushed me, like usual. Times like this make me wonder why I like him at all. They made me wonder why I liked myself at all. I heard the snap of the condom, and I protested again, offered a blow job. Dave chuckled; maybe he really did believe I was joking, I told myself. I knew that I had made myself clear in the past, though, and that he was fully aware of how I felt about anal. 

I felt his head push against me, and I tried to relax. He pushed in, too fast, like usual, and I cried out. I put my hands on his thighs behind me to stop him from moving, but he just kept pushing in. I hissed and groaned, and willed myself to calm down; because I knew that in a moment it wouldn't be so bad. Once Dave's balls slapped gently against my ass he paused, bending down to kiss my back. He reached around and pinched my nipples. He also gave my cock a pull, but he knows that this usually won't turn me on, and besides that, I had just cum. My turn-around time isn't so bad, but five minutes is pushing it for anyone. Dave started to pull back, and the pain was gone. He started rocking his hips, gently, and he continued to caress me and kiss my back. Dave was sweet, he really was, but I wanted him to cum and get off of me.

The problem with anal sex, for me, wasn't just about the pain, though that was a factor. Though I'm a bit of a pushover -- okay, let's be honest here, I'm completely a pushover -- I guess it's the loss of control or something that bothers me. Being penetrated by another man is pretty intense, and it's not an intense I'm entirely comfortable with. I still allowed it to happen, though, so what did that make me? Weak. Pushover. You name it. Maybe I was too hard on myself? I don't know. But looking at the thing with Mark, even the thing with letting Travis push me away and never fighting to investigate why, well, I was losing respect for myself. Even the situation with Dave -- why did I never really stand up to him? I didn't want to have anal, so why did I just allow it to happen? Why did I never really stand up to anyone? I avoided conflict, at the expense of my backbone. Yup, I had figured it out. I was a complete and total loser.

When Dave was done he threw the condom in the garbage and gathered me up in his arms. He nuzzled me, and kissed me, and I sighed against him. I liked cuddling, a lot, and he knew that. I'd do something about being a loser tomorrow.

I grabbed the phone without looking to see who it was, because I assumed it was Dave. When I answered I was slightly breathless from dashing to the phone.

"Uh, Keith?" a voice asked hesitantly. Not Dave.

"Yes?" I asked, still breathy.

"Hey, um, it's Travis," he said, awkwardly. My heart jumped.

"Travis? Hi! How are you doing?" I was trying not to sound too excited, but probably failed.

"Okay. You?"

"Pretty good."

"Ah, good," he said, and there was an extended pause where neither of us said anything. "Um, so, yeah. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over tonight? Play Scrabble or something... it used to be our Scrabble night..."

He trailed off, and I suddenly remembered how he had a tendency to babble a little when he was nervous. God, did I miss him.

When I got there he nodded, but didn't return my closed-lip smile. Instead, we sat at the table in front of the bay windows that overlooked the side yard, just like we always had. Then, we played. He stared at the board with grim concentration, and it was a couple of turns before he said anything. He flipped my timer after his turn, which was my cue to go, then asked, real quiet, "How long did you know?"

I stared at him for a moment. He didn't look at me, just kept his gaze on the letters in front of him like he had been doing this whole game. I figured we would talk about this, but I was still surprised by the question.

"After Christmas, but before New Year's," I answered simply, and I continued to look at him. He darted his eyes up to mine once, then back down they went. I really couldn't read him anymore, not like I used to. I had no idea what was going through his head. Suddenly, he reached out and flipped his own timer and began putting down letters.

"Hey!" I protested.

"Your timer's out," he said simply, pointing at my timer. My time had run out... he had flipped my timer and asked me a question.

"Hey!" I said again. "Not fair!"

"You saw me flip it," he replied, and I swear I saw a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I shook my head; I knew I wasn't going to win this one. 

We continued to play in silence, and it was a few more turns before he threw another one at me. He asked quietly, again, but I could tell this one was harder for him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ah, well..." I paused, put down a word (12 lousy points), and flipped his timer. "I thought he was going to tell you himself. He said you guys had been going through a rough patch, and well, you don't really talk about that kind of stuff, so I didn't really know."

"So that's it?" Travis asked. His jaw was set, and he was not looking anywhere near me. I cringed. What else was there to say?

"I thought that if you guys were going to work it out, he should be the one to tell you. About the affair, I mean. When he didn't, I confronted him again, and he said he had been waiting for the holidays to get over with... in February I talked to him again, but..."

"But what?" Travis asked, not too kindly.

"He said he would do it. I didn't believe him, but... he said you wouldn't believe me, that you would think I was just crying to cause trouble, or that you would wonder why I waited and hate me for it," I said, my voice cracking. I should have known I wouldn't be able to get out of this without tears. Looking at Travis, I knew this wasn't going to end well. He was staring out the window, his jaw a hard line, and he shook his head. No, not good, not good at all. Finally, after I sniffled, he turned to me. I flinched, and sniffled again. 

"Stop," he said harshly. I jumped at his tone, and a tear slid down my face.

"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't know what he wanted me to stop -- crying maybe? -- but it wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"No, stop, Keith," he said, not quite so harsh. He grabbed both of my wrists and pulled them away from my face. His gray eyes were red as they stared into mine. "Stop beating yourself up about it. Just stop, okay? It's not worth it."

"Wh-what?" I asked. Dare I hope? This certainly wasn't the reaction I had been expecting.

"It's not worth it," he repeated.

"You're not mad?" I asked cautiously.

"I was at first," he admitted with a sigh, "But really, I probably would have done the same thing."

"What?" I was floored.

"I mean, it wasn't an easy place for you to be. I know you wouldn't not tell me something like that to hurt me... you were doing what you thought was right. How can I hold that against you?" Travis said simply. He finally looked up at me again, just looking this time, not the glare he had before. I realize now that the glare hadn't meant he was angry at me, just that he was angry with the situation. Travis looked tired, and his eyes were red, like he had been crying. Really, he looked almost defeated, and my heart went out to him.

"And," he added, "I really am sorry I hit you. And I'm sorry I ever thought you could... you know... sleep with Mark. I know you better than that. I know you would never do that to me."

"Thank you," I whispered. Inside I was yelling, singing, jumping around. This was good! But what should I say? What should I say-whatshouldisay? What comfort could I give him? "I'm sure that... I'm sure that he would have told you. He really did love you." 

I wasn't sure it was going to help, and after I said it -- seeing the look on his face -- I wish I hadn't.

"He would have told me?" he whispered, looking at me.

"He would have told you about the affair," I stated quietly. 

"Affairs," Travis said simply. What did that mean? What -- wait. What?

"What?" my mouth finally managed to echo my thought.

"Affairs," Travis repeated, still meeting my eyes. "He had affairs. Multiple."

"Oh," I said with a small huff of breath. I felt deflated. "Oh," I said again. "How...? When?"

"From his journals. I never knew," Travis said. He looked down at the table, then flipped my timer. "I missed my turn."

I won, as usual, but he came close. Travis made us tea and took out some banana bread. We sat on the couch, a bit awkwardly. I wondered if things would ever get back to the way they were, when our conversations would flow for hours and we'd both still have more to say. Finally, he spoke.

"I really didn't know."

"What didn't you know?"

"That he was sleeping around," Travis said quietly. He held his mug in two hands, and stared into it like he was going to read his fortune.

"That fucking slut!" I spat, before I realized I was going to speak. Oh, boy. Word vomit.

Travis jumped, and turned his head to look at me. He looked as surprised as I felt by what I had said. I looked back. Then he laughed, his old laugh, deep and full and musical. I stared at him for a moment before I started chuckling, too. It really wasn't that funny, but he kept laughing, setting his cup down to cover his face, and then I realized he wasn't laughing anymore. I threw my arm around him and pulled his head to my chest. He trembled, and started to pull away.

"It's okay, shh, it's okay," I murmured into his hair. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered against me. "I'll stop, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay, Travis. It's okay, I don't mind," I said soothingly. 

"Thanks," Travis said as he pulled away. My arm was still around him, though, and he wasn't shrugging it off. "I don't mean to be a blubbering mess."

"Oh, Trav, you're not a blubbering mess," I said as I rubbed his arm. 

"I'm glad it wasn't you," he whispered, and I could tell he was tearing up again.

I kept rubbing his arm, and he talked about how shocked he had been. He really had no idea that Mark had been cheating. And the number of times Mark had cheated? Oh, boy. If Mark was alive, I would have hit him, I seriously would have. Travis, the poor guy. For months he had thought I had slept with Mark, and I was getting the impression that he hadn't really dealt with it. From what Eric and Kyle and told me, and from what Travis was saying now, it seemed like he had been in a fog for the past six months. Besides that, he had kept it in, and not confided in a single soul. He had gone and got tested though, which was probably a good thing. Thankfully, he was clean. He and Mark hadn't used condoms for years; why would they? They were committed.


A Different Perspective Ch. 02



"Thanks for listening," Travis finished. He looked sheepish. "So... what's been going on with you? I just babbled and I never even asked you how you've been doing..."

"Oh, well," I said, startled. I'm a brilliant conversationalist, isn't it obvious? Travis looked guilty; I could tell he felt like a jerk by the look on his face. "You know, I miss hanging out with you. Classes are good; the students are still assholes. High-schoolers -- you know."

He nodded; we were both teachers, but at different districts. He taught music and conducted the band at a junior and senior high; I taught English and writing composition at a high school.

"You seeing anyone?"

"Yeah. Four months, I think?" 

Travis nodded, and he seemed to be thinking.

"We really never did talk about relationships much," he said thoughtfully. "Why is that?"

"I'm not sure," I shrugged. We used to a little bit, but it just wasn't really that type of friendship. Nothing beyond the superficial, at least not where relationships and Travis were concerned.

"I think it was me," he said, still thoughtful.

"Ha! I wasn't going to say it," I laughed. Travis smiled sheepishly at me, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh! Well, yeah, four months. I don't know... we mesh well. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah..." I drew it out, not sure how much to say, but Travis had bared so much, it seemed wrong not to just say it. "Well, meshing. Good. Except sex."

I whispered sex; I couldn't help it. I felt myself blush. Oh, yes, I was that person. Blushing was the one thing I really excelled at, sadly. Travis made a strange sound and coughed -- the jerk was chocking back a laugh! I blushed worse for a moment, before I started chuckling at myself.

"It's not that he's bad, it's just... we both want the same thing, I guess. In a bad way."

Travis made a noise, and I looked up, expecting to find him struggling not to laugh again. Instead, he was looking at me with his brows knit.

"And I'm a pushover, so he always gets his way," I continued.

"Does he know what you want?" 

"Yes, but..." I didn't know what to say.

"He doesn't listen?" 

I nodded, and Travis nodded.

"But, whatever, I mean..." I didn't know what I meant, actually, and I didn't know where I was going with that statement.

"Is it something you can deal with?" he asked in my silence.

"What?"

"The sex issue... is it something you can deal with?"

"I don't know," I said with a sigh. "I guess... well, this sounds bad, but I think that if I loved him I would deal with it. Does that sound awful?"

"No, not at all. You need to do what's right for you," Travis said seriously. It was kind of surreal, having this conversation with him.

"But at the same time, I think he's the kind of guy I could fall for," I continued, gathering speed. "I mean, he's great, he really is. Except for that one thing. And he really does listen to me, really, just not... about that."

"Maybe you should try talking to him about it. I know you already have, but maybe try it again?"

We went from there. It was actually a nice conversation, past the initial awkwardness of not having talked -- really talked -- for months. The conversation flowed from there, and we both talked about work, new music, the World Series, a lot of other things. We just talked. Eric and Kyle wanted to take him out again Friday, and I was invited, but I had a date with Dave. Maybe next time.



A Different Perspective Ch. 03



I had fun on Friday with Kyle and Eric, though I still didn't dance. Eric suggested I try talking to somebody, but that didn't happen, either. Well, okay, his exact words were, "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else." Still no go, any way you cut it.

Keith called me Sunday, and told me how he broke up with the guy he had been seeing -- Dave, I think -- because he wasn't taking Keith seriously. It annoyed me to think about it. I don't think Keith realized it, but none of the guys he dated ever took him seriously. While he had broken up with this ass that didn't respect him, he had still allowed himself to be pushed around for months. Story of his life. He let them walk all over him, and when he finally asked for something, he got nothing. It had been like that since I met him, junior year of college. Still, he deserved better. I just wished he'd stand up for himself before it got to that point. 

Thanksgiving came and went, and my parents were grateful to have me. After Mark and I had been together for a couple of years, we started spending Thanksgiving together, or with friends. His parents didn't accept him, and mine seemed to make him uncomfortable. It wasn't anything they did -- they've always been supportive -- but I think it made him sad, so I didn't push the issue when he said he'd rather not go there for holidays. Kyle and Eric took me out a few more times, and it was fun. I still couldn't bring myself to talk to anyone, and I could tell Kyle and Eric worried that I didn't mean it when I said I was fine, and having fun. Never in my life had my friends doubted my honesty. I know it wasn't meant to be some sort of insult to my integrity, but it was discouraging that they didn't believe me. And the way they both seemed to treat me like I was about to start freaking out again -- but maybe I deserved that, for the crying episodes. I still cringe when I remember that.

Keith was the only one that didn't talk to me like I was about to break down, but things were still a little weird. We talked, almost like we used to, but there was a certain awkwardness that I didn't know how to fix. Maybe it was me. Maybe I was more fucked up than I realized. Maybe he hadn't really forgiven me. Maybe things would never be like they were because of what had happened. Maybe a part of me still held that against him. Too many maybes... life sucks like that.

Another Saturday night at the gay bar, and I was smashed, but having a lot of fun. I finally danced, but I don't really remember to what. I just remember drinking, and then I remember dancing -- a lot. Eric and Kyle were dancing with me, then suddenly Keith was there, and we were dancing, and then he was gone and Eric and Keith were telling me it was last call and time for us to go.

We went to an all-night diner and I realized I was quite drunk. Eric was all over Kyle, so Keith offered to drive me home. They were both quite thankful, and I realized -- not for the first time -- that I had become a third wheel in their relationship, much like Eric had been at points during mine. Weird. I had never been in that position. Also, I was very very horny, and that hadn't happened in a long time. Somehow, that had just hit me. I lay back in passenger seat and looked out the window. Apparently I had sighed, because Keith seemed concerned. I just shrugged.

"Travis?" he asked again. I realized he couldn't see me shrug in the dark, while his was driving. I was drunker than I thought. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I said softly as we pulled into my driveway. Keith gave me a long look.

"I'll make you some tea," he said, getting out of the car.

"No, I'm fine --" 

I tripped and stumbled, but Keith's arms were around me, holding me up. 

"You're so tall," I mumbled at his nipple, and he chuckled.

"You're so drunk," he replied in a low voice, and I could hear his smile, even in the dark. He let go, and we walked toward the house. 

I was seated at my kitchen table while Keith fluttered around my kitchen. He put a glass of water in front of me and ordered me to drink.

"Bossy," I grinned at him. He just raised his eyebrows at me. I still didn't drink it. "Want to play Scrabble?"

"It wouldn't be fair to take advantage of you in your state. Plus, do you know what time it is?" He was smiling while he said it.

"Late. You always hand my ass to me anyway, so what's the problem?"

"It's after midnight!"

"It's not a school night; you don't have to be up for anything... do you?" I asked. I wasn't sure what had gotten into me; I felt giddy and awake, but I was suddenly worried that Keith might have had other plans than babysitting me in my sloppy drunkenness. He shook his head, still smiling. 

"Then come on! I will beg if I have to. I'll get down on my knees right now. Are you going to make me beg, Keith?"

I looked up at him with the best puppy dog eyes I could muster. Honestly, I'm not really sure how to make puppy dog eyes, but I did manage a pout. He turned red and laughed, shaking his head. 

"I'll get the game; just drink your damn water!"

I saluted him as he walked away. I sipped at my water and watched him set up the board. He made me tea and made me drink that, too.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" I asked him midway through getting my ass handed to me. I kept talking, and I couldn't concentrate on the game.

"Want me to make you something?" he asked carefully. I stared at him for a moment.

"Am I keeping you from something?" I asked suddenly. My filter was nonexistent at the moment. Everything that popped into my brain went directly to my mouth. Also, the refresh button my brain was apparently working overtime. Keith had informed me a number of times that I was repeating myself. Repeating what? I wonder the same thing. I couldn't remember what I was talking about, so I kept switching subjects, but apparently I was also switching back. 

"No, of course not," Keith said, frowning slightly. 

"You're handing my ass to me. Want to just say you win?"

"Sure," he replied. Still with a weird look on his face.

I stood up and went to the refrigerator. Leftover Chinese takeout. Perfect. Keith watched me eat a fortune cookie while I heated up some leftovers in the microwave. 

"You will do great things in bed," I announced. Keith stared at me, and I laughed. "Fortune cookie."

"That's not what your fortune cookie said," Keith said.

"Is, too. You have to add "in bed" to the end of it," I replied.

"You never did that before," he laughed, incredulous. "Ever. It was always just Eric and I."

"Eh, so what," I shrugged. "I'm doing it now."

"Right," Keith said quietly, but he had a small smile on his face. Wordlessly, I offered him some of the food in front of me. He got up to stand beside me, and I noticed for the second time that night how tall he was, and apparently I told him so. He laughed.

"You've told me."

"Why have I not noticed that before?" 

"Pretty sure you have, Travis."

"Eh, whatever," I shrugged. As I did so I managed to shrug my food right off my fork and onto the floor. We both laughed. Keith's eyes crinkled when he laughed, and I realized I was staring at him. I had known Keith for a while, and there had never been anything romantic between us. Staring at him, I wondered if there might have been if I hadn't been dating Mark. Then again, he wasn't really my type -- I don't really go for twinks. I like manly, and that was not a word one would use to describe Keith. Of course, Keith was cute. Nice blond hair -- I do like blonds -- and big blue eyes, long lashes, and plump lips. Dimly, I remembered thinking of him as "horse-faced" when I was angry, but I never thought he was ugly. Okay, so his face was a bit long. Even beer goggles couldn't hide his long, thin nose, but really, who cares? I have a beak myself, so I'm not really in any position to be judging that. 

He also could have been described as gangly if not for how graceful he could be. It's not that he was scrawny, but he had a slim build. He liked cycling and running, and that kept him in shape. And his ass? I think it was the cycling that gave it to him. So maybe I had been in a relationship, but I'm not blind, and I am a man. Keith had a hot ass. Firm, round... just about perfect. 

I was still staring at Keith, and I realized he had said something. I also realized I was feeling the first twinges of an erection. Shit. 

"Uh, what?"

"Are you alright?" 

"I'm not going to be sick, don't worry," I assured him, looking away. I shoved a piece of chicken in my mouth, and remembered I had dropped food on the floor. I grabbed a paper towel.

"Not was I was talking about," Keith said quietly. He was smiling a little. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I said carefully. I wasn't go to say a damn thing to him about what was bugging me, not one little thing. Nothing. I talk too much when I'm drunk, but I was keeping my mouth shut tight. Mouth zipped.

"You sure? You can tell me, you know," he said kindly. Jeez, he was so nice. I shook my head.

"I'm just so..." I started as I kneeled on the floor. I shook my head again as I cleaned. Mouth zippered.

"What is it?" Keith asked real quiet. I rocked back on my heels and looked up at him.

"I'm so horny," I laughed, looking him in the eye. So much for mouth zippered. Keith looked shocked for a moment, before he laughed, too. He didn't laugh for long, though. I realized I was staring at him again. On my knees in front of him. I didn't remember when I had stopped laughing, or even smiling. This looked wrong. I knew that. It wasn't what I meant to do, and it looked like I wanted something else when all I was doing was cleaning up and telling him what was going on. 

Keith stared down at me. I continued to stare back. Awkward. It had gotten really awkward. So, naturally, I did what anybody would do -- I grabbed his belt buckle. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And I undid his belt. Also seemed right. Keith inhaled sharply as I unbuttoned his jeans, but he grabbed my hands as I started on his zipper. I looked up at him. His eyes searched my face.

"Travis," he said quietly.

"Keith," I answered, freeing one of my hands and running in up his side. Our first real physical contact. He dropped my other hand, and I reached under his shirt. Still looking at him, I ran one finger under the band of his jeans. He swallowed, and continued to look down. I removed my finger and ran my hand down the front of his leg, the other still holding onto his waist, before I caressed him through his jeans. He was hard.

"Travis," he gasped. I smirked up at him, my fingers teasing. Keith was harder than I expected him to be, and seemed quite well-endowed to boot. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

Keith pushed my hand away, and stepped back. My smirk disappeared.

"You are drunk," he told me carefully. "I'm sorry, I... I have to go."

And he left. I still knelt on the floor, all trace of hard-on and horniness gone, wondering why the fuck I had done what I did. Knowing I had royally fucked up, but not quite sure what was going o happen. Still drunk, though, which was probably a good thing.

I woke up, and didn't immediately realize that I felt like shit. I rolled over to the side of the bed, and realized that was a mistake. My stomach rolled, but it was actually the stab in my head that was the problem. Gingerly, I stood up and limped to the bathroom. Then I hobbled out to the kitchen and stared into my fridge. I closed it, and went to stare into my cabinets. I was hungry, kind of, but didn't want anything that I had. I went back to the fridge and pulled out a cheese stick, sourdough bread, chocolate syrup, and orange juice. While I had no intention of mixing them, those were the only things that held any appeal. I ate the cheese stick and my stomach felt better immediately. I thought about the club the night before and smiled; it had been fun there. 

I heard a car pull into my driveway. As I grabbed another cheese stick I padded to the front door. Somehow, I had managed to strip and pull on some flannel pants the night before. I figured whoever was visiting that early would have to be okay with seeming me in my pajamas. A peek out of a front window confirmed that it was Eric. He, Kyle, and Keith were coming over for dinner. Odd. I opened the door.

"Did you just get up?" Eric exclaimed sharply as he came in. I flinched; the man's voice could cut glass.

"So?"

"Do you know what time it is?"

"It can't be that late," I mumbled, rubbing my head. Eric sighed heavily. I padded back to the kitchen. "It's only... shit. One. Well, still. You're early."

"We talked..." Eric said slowly, like he was speaking to a small child, "I'm coming over to bake with you. Keith is picking up Kyle before he comes over. Later."

"Oh, yeah. I remember," I told him, and I did remember. We had talked about it last night. Eric looked amused.

He eyed my arrangement on the table and raised an eyebrow.

"New hangover cure?"

Eric made me French toast, and then ordered me to brush my teeth and take a shower. He also fed me Motrin, which I scoffed at, but it really does work well for a hangover. I wouldn't know; it had been years since I had gotten drunk enough to get a hangover, and I had never really partied much anyway. It was a little after two before we actually started cooking. Coconut cake and peanut butter cookies for a party later in the week. Something was up with Eric, though. He was happy enough, but seemed nervous, almost. Like he wanted to say something, but wasn't.

"So what's up?" I finally asked. I was tired of the tension he was radiating.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently, but Eric never had pulled off innocent. Not like Keith... Keith pulled off innocent like it was his job.

"You're nervous, or mad, or something. What's up?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Nothing," he sighed. He looked up at me and sighed again. "Fine. Kyle is pissed because I refuse to go to his parents' house for Christmas. I've got my own to go to."

"Can't you go to all of them? Split up the day? I mean, your mom and dad have met him, right?" I asked. His parents were divorced, and while neither was quite comfortable with it, both of them tried to accept him and his partners. He just looked at his feet. "Serious? They haven't? It's been, what, two years? Why haven't they met him?"

I tried to sound sympathetic, but I'm sure I failed miserably. It wasn't that I wasn't disappointed or disapproving as much as shocked.

"Well... I haven't really told them much," Eric said quietly. He was blushing. Ashamed. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I just... I don't know. I never really told them much, and I haven't actually talked to them in a while..."

"Do you want to tell them?" I managed gentle that time. To my surprise, Eric shrugged.

"What's the point? They'd just be uncomfortable. There always were before."

"Eric..." I trailed off. He sounded so disheartened, not his usual chipper self. "Well, it might be different with Kyle. I mean, who have they met?"

"Ronny," Eric mumbled. "He wore a pink muscle shirt and wore a rainbow bracelet. Then Steve, then Brian, then the other Steve... none of them really made good impressions. Brian tried; he really did, but..."

"Steve the Second was a bad idea," I commented, "And Brian never had a chance after Steve the First." Both Steves had been quite... odd. Both in different ways. Steve the First was the polar opposite of Ronny. He was quiet and unassuming at first, and probably any parents' wet dream at first glance. Alligator shirts, expensive leather shoes, and pressed khakis, like he had just come from playing a round with the governor at the best country club in town. Steve the First may have been too much of a dandy to be misjudged as straight, but the man did have class. He was also a humungous jackass, which just about everyone except for Eric had figured out within the first ten minutes of meeting this guy... five if they were astute. Steve loved to argue, and loved to explain why every opinion you had was wrong, except when you were lucky enough to agree with him. One of his favorite topics was the subtle homophobia of everyday life, and how everybody was homophobic. Even gay people. Ah, yes, deep down we all just hated ourselves for being gay, especially if we weren't out to every single person that ever walked into our lives. Needless to say, Mark and I avoided Steve like the plague, and I can only imagine what Eric's parents thought of him. They weren't even dating that long, but he insisted that Eric be completely out and open to everyone in his life.

They didn't last long. 

Steve the Second was a lot like Ronny. Out and proud. Plus he was tattooed and pierced. And did I mention loud? He told great jokes, though I doubt either of Eric's parents really appreciated them. I don't imagine either of them would have gotten past the shock of seeing a 6'7" giant with a shock of spiky blue hair in their living room, telling a dirty joke about Judy Garland and one of the lollipop kids.

"I think that if anybody could make a good impression, it'd be Kyle," I told him. "I don't think you should be worried about that. He has a nice job, looks professional, knows when to shut up..."

"What if his parents don't like me?" Eric asked suddenly.

"Is that why you're worried? Mark's parents hated me."

"They were homophobes! But Kyle's parents... they like him, you know? They're cool with stuff. What if they hate me?"

"Aww, they won't hate you, they'll love you!" I answered, putting my arm around his shoulders. It was kind of cute, him being worried so much about impressing Kyle's parents. "Have you told Kyle how you felt?"

"He said the same thing you did," Eric grumbled. "I guess I'll think about it."

"Good plan."

"And something else..." Eric said, suddenly nervous again. I raised my eyebrows at him. "So, Kyle and I were talking... and we were a little concerned."

"About?" I asked, frowning. Where ever this was going, it obviously wasn't good. And my head hurt again.

"Well, he brought it up, and at first I thought he was crazy, but I think he has a point. Kyle's smart like that. He notices stuff..." He looked at me, and realized I was getting impatient. "So yeah, Keith. Look, we think Keith..."

Eric kept talking, but suddenly I was in my head. Keith. Something about Keith, on the edge of my consciousness. Keith. It started to form, then slipped away again...

"Hey, are you listening to me? Are you alright?" Eric asked, concerned.

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking. What about Keith?"

So Eric explained that they were concerned about Keith. He was rebounding, all that, and needed some cheering up. Holiday blues. Depressed. That kind of thing. Made sense, and I told him so, but part of me was struggling to bring back whatever it was that I had forgotten. Something about Keith.

"How did he seem last night?"

"Oh," I asked, startled for some reason. "Fine, I guess. Happy enough."

Happy enough... he did seem happy. He made me tea, I remembered that. Then...

A knock, and then the door opened. Keith and Kyle walked in, and took off their coats and boots. They both said hello to Eric and I, but both of them seemed rather reserved. Odd. Dinner was done, so we all sat down in the dining room. Eric and I started talking, and Kyle joined in eventually, but there was something going on that I couldn't quite place my finger on. We all talked about holiday plans, which added a bit of tension to the room, but overall it wasn't a bad dinner, just a weird one. Something about Keith... because I had realized that it was Keith that was making the whole thing awkward. His hands fluttered like nervous little birds, straightening the place setting, arranging his silverware, straightening the sleeves of his button-down, and tugging on his sweater. He wouldn't meet my eyes. Weird.




A Different Perspective Ch. 03



Eric mentioned fortune cookies, and then a little came back to me. I had eaten my cookie last night. And then... I think I may have said something dumb? Possibly inappropriate? I added "in bed" to the end of whatever my fortune was. Mark had always hated that; he said it was stupid and immature. Naturally, I never admitted I found it amusing. So yeah, I had read my fortune and added that, and it had felt good. Like I was somehow spiting Mark, because he was a cheating asshole. It was almost like the equivalent to spitting in his soup, only he was dead, so soup was out of the question. So, that wasn't so bad. I remember dropping food on the floor -- my eyes immediately went to the spot where I had stood the night before. The kitchen table partially blocked my view from the dining room. Clean floor. Interesting. I stared, and thought. I looked up, and Keith was finally looking at me. I smiled the nicest smile I could muster, and tried not to look confused. He gave a tentative smile back. Did Keith hit on me the night before? Was that why he was so nervous? 

It didn't feel right. He wouldn't have hit on me if I was drunk, I was fairly certain of that. Of course, he may not have realized... then a little more came back. I had told him I was... shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit. It was coming back. This was bad. I finally remembered, in glorious detail. I don't know how I had blocked it out, but I wished I didn't remember. No wonder he couldn't meet my eye... I was the hugest asshole in the world. If previous events hadn't proved it, hitting on my emotionally-damaged friend did. Well, okay, I didn't really believe he was damaged, but Eric did, and I couldn't argue that Keith had made his way through his fair share of shit-heads.

Dinner was finally over, and Eric and Kyle seemed to sense the tension, or else had enough tension of their own to sort out. They left quickly, almost suddenly, and then it was Keith and I. Just. Us. Oh, fuck. I'm not really the loquacious type, not like Eric or even Keith, but I simply could not think of a word to say. Just say something, I scolded myself, anything! 

"So, dinner was good, wasn't it?" I finally managed. Fuck me; I'm such a loser. That was literally the best thing I could come up with.

"Yes, it was," Keith said quietly. He was sitting on the edge of the couch with his hands folded neatly in his laps. Finally, the birds were quiet. "So, Travis, I wanted to... ask... err, talk to you... about last night..."

The birds fluttered to life, pulling at his cuffs and smoothing his pants around his knees. His face was beet red. Yup, I'm definitely the biggest ass ever.

"Yeah, look, I'm --"I started, barely a moment before Keith continued.

"Did you --"

We both stopped and looked at each other. 

"Did you mean it, Travis?" Keith asked quietly, looking me square in the eye.

"Err, what?" I stammered. Silence. Keith broke eye contact, choosing instead to look at his hands which were once again folded in his lap. He looked very, very sad.

"Keith," I said quietly, leaning forward to put my hand very gently on his forearm, "I'm really sorry I was a jerk. Really sorry. I don't want to fuck up our friendship because I was a drunken asshole."

Keith glanced up at me, but remained silent.

Okay, panic... sweet panic. Keith didn't seem mad; he just seemed oddly upset by the whole thing. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

"You weren't an asshole, I just... didn't know if that's what you really wanted," Keith said finally. He was looking away in a very determined fashion. Suddenly, I felt very tired. And still a bit hung-over, if truth be told. Had I ever thought of Keith in a way one could call a little too friendly? Maybe when I was younger, and Mark and I were still new. Keith's not bad looking, and when you're hardly past teenagers, well... anyway, I was pretty sure we would mesh alright in a relationship, but I was pretty sure we wouldn't mesh well in the bedroom. Wanting the same things... just like Keith and his ex. I could see it clear as day. No, sex would be a bad idea, because one of us wouldn't get what we really wanted. 

"Umm, well, I... was, kind of," I stumbled through the sentence. Awkward. Plus again I was struck completely wordless. 

"Travis, I... shit, I don't know," he said, obviously agitated. He was staring at me, and before I knew it his hand was on the back of my neck and his lips were on mine. Keith's lips. 

I pushed him away, but held onto his arm like I had never intended to let go. I couldn't believe he had kissed me. Had I been so blind that I missed Keith's feelings for me? Did he really have feelings for me? Then, crazier yet, I pulled him back until our lips met.



A Different Perspective Ch. 04



I couldn't believe I kissed Travis. I really couldn't believe that he was kissing me back. I thought I was going to drop dead of joy right there. Seriously, I thought my heart was going to give out. We kissed, and we kissed some more, and he had one hand on the spot between my neck and my shoulder, and the other was on my waist. My hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, touching him. I was in heaven. I don't know who moaned, I actually think it was him, but I couldn't be sure.

We finally broke apart, but our hands were still on each other, and our lips were just inches apart. We were both breathing heavily. Oh, sweet heaven. 

"Travis," I whispered, not really intending to go anywhere with that; I just wanted to say his name, to hear it from my lips. He kissed me then, hard, and we started making out again. Gradually, we both leaned back against the couch, still kissing, and it mellowed into long, deep kisses. Our hands both explored, but both of us stayed above the belt. Personally, I was dying. My dick could have pounded nails. I hoped Travis was in the same way.

Then we broke off again, panting. 

"Do you want to..." Travis began, staring at my lips. I nodded furiously, and we both stood up. I followed him to his bedroom. He turned toward me when he got to the bed, and we were kissing again. I had to tilt my head down; I had six inches on him. I grabbed at his shirt, he grabbed at mine. Then I was unbuttoning his pants and he unbuttoned mine, and before I could free him from his pants, he was pulling down my pants and kneeling. He looked up at me, and my heart melted. Long, dark lashes framed his pale gray eyes, the pupils dilated with desire, and his dark lips were parted. Then he focused on my cock, but he didn't put his mouth on it. Oh, but I did love to be teased. He buried his face in my pubes, and bent to suck on my balls. Oddly, I've only had one boyfriend who ever did that, and it was glorious. It was even better with Travis doing it. He took one in his mouth, and then the other, gently rolling them around and sucking gently. Glorious, heaven, wonderful. I moaned his name, and he released my nut. He kissed his way up to my cock, and licked the head once before sliding his lips over the head.

He sucked, and he licked, and I moaned. Then, he stopped. I gasped at the cold air on my wet cock. Standing up, Travis shucked off his pants and pushed me back on the bed. I took the opportunity to pull him forward by the hips and taste his cock. It was nestled in a bed of black pubes, nearly six inches of perfection. Thick, slightly curved. Definitely perfect. I moaned on his cock, which made him moan. Suddenly, he pushed me away. I scooted back on the bed, and he crawled after me. We were kissing, and grabbing, but I felt like he was holding back. Hmm.

"Do you..." he started, but he seemed embarrassed. 

"What? What do you want?" I whispered in his ear. 

"Do you like anal?" he asked quietly. I froze for a moment, but... even though I'm not a huge fan of bottoming, the thought of Travis on top of me, inside of me, made my cock twitch. No, I had no problem with bottoming for Travis. So, I nodded.

"I want you so bad," he moaned, then he made an odd noise. "Oh... I don't have condoms."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. Neither did I. "Uh, I'm clean, though."

I have never had sex without condoms. I've never dated anyone long enough to really get to that point. I do, however, get tested regularly, and I knew Travis had been tested. He nodded, and we both started moving. Leaning over, he opened up a drawer next to his bed and took out a bottle of lube. He hesitated, looking from me to the bottle. Finally, he handed it to me. I took it, but just looked at it. Travis wanted me to get myself ready? It seemed kind of... rude. Impersonal. I wasn't sure what to do.

"Want me to do it?" he whispered. I nodded, feeling numb. Was this his bedside manner? Hand me the lube, get myself ready? Maybe he didn't want to do it? What the hell?

Travis took the bottle from my hands, and I lay back, spreading my legs. He squeezed some lube into his hands and rubbed his hands together to warm it up. Then he sat back on his heels and looked at me. His cock stood straight out, and I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful. I decided I could deal with his bedside manner. 

"Do you want to... oh."

"What's wrong?" I asked. This was suddenly getting weird. I hadn't been this nervous since... hell, probably since my first time. And really, even though I had issues with putting my foot down, I really didn't usually have an issue with simply telling someone what I wanted. Not now! I couldn't bear to tell him what I really wanted...

"Oh, nothing," he answered, but he hesitated. And *blushed*. Fucking adorable.

"Travis..." I said seriously.

"I don't mind topping," he interjected as he leaned forward. 

Wait -- what? He doesn't mind? 

"You want to bottom?" I asked, excited. "I don't mind."

"It's up to you," he said, suddenly shy. I sat up and kissed him. He was adorable when he was acting shy.

"I prefer topping," I whispered against his lips, "but I don't mind receiving."

"Oh," he sighed. He still seemed shy, but he grabbed my cock with his lubed hands, stroking it and rubbing around my head. Travis started to lay down, and I got on my knees. I grabbed the lube, and put some on my fingers, then lowered my mouth to his cock while my fingers started to probe his ass. The noises that man made... I can't even begin to describe. The man loved his ass played with. It was too good to be true. He moaned and bucked his hips when I slid my finger into his beautiful ass, and I added a second. More moaning, more bucking. He grabbed my hair and pulled me up. 

"Keith, please," he moaned against my lips, and I don't think I've ever heard anything sweeter. And who was I to deny the man what he wanted?

Travis started to turn, but I stopped him. I wanted to see his face as I pushed into him. He grabbed his legs, and I positioned myself at his entrance. I pushed, he groaned, I pushed some more. The head of my cock popped in, and he gasped before letting out a loud moan. 

"Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded, mouth parted, and I kissed him as I pushed in. He moaned into my mouth, and I could feel him buck his hips beneath me. Hot. So fucking hot. I kissed him some more, staying still, but then he let go of his legs and grabbed my ass, pulling me in until my balls were against his ass. We both let out low moans, and I could feel his ass clench around my cock. I had never barebacked before, and the feeling was amazing. It was unexpected, really. I always thought, how much better could it really be? As it turns out, a hell of a lot better.

We rocked together. It amazed me that his cock was still hard, even after being penetrated. Amazing. His precum was slicking both of our stomachs as I pushed in and pulled out. I was trying to keep it slow and easy, but Travis grabbed my ass again. He wanted fast, and, again -- who was I to deny the man what he wanted? I pounded his ass, and he moaned and squirmed beneath me. Seriously, one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. His longish black hair was haloed around his head, his lips were slightly parted, and his face, neck, and chest were flushed. Never in my wildest dreams -- and I had some pretty wild dreams -- had I imagined it being this good. To top it off, he was watching me fuck him. He stared at my face with half-lidded eyes. When I hit a good spot his eyes would close, but then they'd open, and he'd be watching my face as I fucked him. I wanted to fucking scream about how hot he was. I managed to restrain myself. Leaning back, I grabbed his hips and kept going, while he started fisting his own cock. It felt like it went on for a glorious eternity, when suddenly his ass clenched and he inhaled sharply; then, he came over his stomach. I leaned over and kissed him, hard, until I unloaded into his ass. His cum was sticky between us, but I didn't really care. I continued thrusting before I collapsed on top of him. Both of us were panting. Still inside of him, I turned my head and tilted it so I could kiss him. He seemed to welcome my tongue into his mouth. 

We kissed until my cock was mostly soft, when I finally pulled out. Travis turned his head to look down, and gave a sleepy chuckle. 

"We made a mess," he commented in a (very sexy, I will add) scratchy voice.

"Who is this we? You made the mess," I asked. I propped myself up on my elbow beside him and raised an eyebrow. He raised his head slightly to look at me, and it took me a moment to decipher his look -- he was trying to figure out if I was serious. So, I gave him my best lopsided grin. "It was hot, though."

To my surprise (and delight!) he blushed. My tough Travis, a blushing bottom. Who the hell would have ever figured that?

"I'm going to jump in the shower," he said, smiling a little. I waited until I heard the toilet flush and the shower start before I followed him. The master bath had a nice-sized shower as well as a bathtub. He was in the shower, so I stepped in behind him and wrapping my arms around him. He startled a little, but then leaned his head back against my shoulder as I took the soap from his hand and started washing him. After, he washed me, and we kissed and messed around for a while, before he told me we needed to get out before the hot water ran out. 

It was early, but I followed him back to the bed, and curled up behind him. 

I found out later night that Travis knew how to deep throat, and that was a wonderful thing. If I'm being completely honest, it wasn't the best blow job I've ever had, but it showed promise, and I'm not going to complain -- he still made the top five on his first try. 

The next morning I woke up before him. I was kind of nervous -- what if he wanted me to leave? I slipped out of bed to pee, than decided I'd make breakfast and hope for the best. We had cuddled most of the night, so I figured wasn't going to expect me to just leave. Well, I hoped. I fried some leftover rice in a pan, and was almost done with a couple of eggs over-easy when Travis padded into the kitchen. He stood beside me and looked over the stove.

"I was going to bring it to you," I admitted shyly. He glanced at me sideways, and he was blushing again, but he gave me a small smile. It shouldn't have been news to be, but I realized he was just as nervous as I was. It helped me relax a bit.

After a somewhat-awkward breakfast, we lapsed into casual conversation that was like the way it used to be -- not like it had been the week before, but like it had been a year before, before the stuff with Mark. It was nice. We chatted, and watched a movie on TV, and we actually cuddled a bit. Travis's move, as crazy as that was -- I was too chicken to do it. 

Christmas vacation for a school teacher is a wonderful thing. I went home that afternoon, but came back to cook dinner. We spend the next few days in cooking, or watching movies (and cuddling!), or just talking. Or in bed -- lots of time in bed. We didn't really talk about that, though. It just sort of happened. Both of us would initiate at different times, but neither of us brought it up. I discovered Travis was almost a total bottom -- he admitted that he would top, once in a blue moon, but preferred to bottom. He loved to give head. He discovered I loved to top... so we turned out to be very compatible in the sex department. We still didn't discuss, anything, though -- we just let it happen. Naturally, I should have expected that our four day sex-adventure would come to an end.

On the morning of our third day, I woke up after Travis for the first time. I thought I had felt his weight lift from the bed, but I couldn't be sure. I pulled on Travis's extra flannel robe and went to see what he was up to. I paused in the hallway when I heard voices in the living room. 

"I don't know," I heard Travis say.

"Have you even thought about this?" 

"I don't... no. Not really, no."

"Travis..."

"Eric, stop. It's not..."

"What? It's not what? Serious? Because I'm pretty sure it is."

"Look, that isn't what I was going to say."

"What then? You can't just toy with him, Travis."

"I'm not!"

"But you don't know what you're doing," Eric spat.

"No," Travis said defensively, "But that doesn't mean I'm toying with him. Maybe he's toying with me!"

"Travis," Eric sighed, "I don't think he's toying with you, and I really think you're intentionally toying with him, but... well, both of you are on the rebound... and have you thought about how he feels?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He... well, he's had a thing for you for years."

"You're -- what?" Travis had started to say something, but what Eric said stopped him. I felt my blood run cold. So, I did what anyone would have done. I backed up into the bedroom, and made a lot of noise, like I was just getting up. I pulled on my pants and shirt, and I was just finishing tucking it in when I came out. Eric was leaning against a counter in the kitchen, and Travis was leaning against the counter opposite him. If not for the situation, it would have been quite amusing, their identical postures, and mirrored glares. Travis looked somewhat smug when he glanced at me, but his face seemed to fall as he took in my clothing. Oh. Getting dressed was stupid, because Travis, at least, realized I had heard them talking. Or maybe he thought... well, who knows what he thought? Whatever it was, he wasn't very happy about it. Eric seemed to notice.

"Morning guys," I said as casually as I could muster. I walked over to the fridge and got out the orange juice. The eggs were on the counter next to the flour and a mixing bowl, but nothing was cooking. I had no idea what I should do -- kiss Travis good morning? Start cooking myself eggs? Leave?

"I made coffee," Travis said in a low voice.

"Oh, I'd love some, thanks," Eric responded in a bitchy voice. Damn Eric. 

"What's up, Eric?" I asked. I sounded tired, even to myself. "What did you come over for?"

"Well," Eric started, not looking at either of us, "There's been a slight change of plans, and Kyle wanted to know if you guys wanted to come over for dinner tonight. You know, Christmas Eve and all. We were going to cook, but Kyle's sister and brother backed out, so we still have everything for dinner... anyway, it doesn't really matter."

I had totally forgotten that it was Christmas Eve. I didn't have any plans until Christmas, so I shrugged and nodded. Travis just stared for a moment before he shrugged.

"I'll get back to you," Travis said, glaring.

"Fine," Eric snapped.

Obviously, I had missed some part of their conversation. 

Eric left, and Travis just looked at me. Only, I get the impression that he was taking in the fact that I was clothed, right down to my socks and tucked in shirt.

"So, I was going to make crepes," Travis offered quietly, "if you want them..."

"Sure! I'd love some," I said, forcing a smile. Only, I didn't actually manage a smile. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he looked down and brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. Then he turned and began preparing the batter.

"So, Keith," Travis finally said, so softly I almost didn't hear him. 

"Yes?" I asked, my voice unnaturally high. 

"Ah, so... I don't think Eric approves," Travis laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I don't really understand that."

"Well, yeah. Yeah," Travis said, suddenly very nervous. This worried me, not going to lie. I didn't like where this was going. "He's worried. Ah, yeah, he's... well, he thinks that... I don't know. I don't really know, I mean..."

"Spit it out, Travis." I'm not sure when I got annoyed, but I suddenly found myself that way.

"Sorry. I think... well, he thinks that..." Travis trailed off again. He had turned toward me. When he finally glanced up he immediately looked down again and continued. "He's worried I'm going to hurt you. Or maybe that I'm still messed up about... you know, Mark... and that I'm going to regret this, or you are, or something like that."

I just looked at him. This got awkward fast, but then -- what had I really expected? 

"He said you had a thing for me since... well, a while," Travis said, real low. Apparently he had taken my silence as a sign that he should elaborate, but I wished that he hadn't. 

"Oh, wow," I said in a whoosh of breath. I hadn't meant to speak, or to even make a noise, but there it was. My blood was cold again, and my heart had dropped down into my stomach. I couldn't think of how to save face, or to make a joke out of it, or do anything like that. I did want to kick Eric, but he wasn't there to be kicked. So, I just stood there, and I kind of wanted to cry. The past few days with Travis had been like heaven, and while they would have come to an end eventually, I felt like Eric had somehow done some damage. Like maybe Travis and I would have continued casually for a while, and it would have developed into something. I actually had it in my mind. We would continue sleeping together, and one day -- like maybe Valentine's Day or my birthday or something -- he would realize he was madly in love with me. I would wait patiently for him until that point, when he caught up with me.

Because, naturally, I was completely in love with him. And there was no way I could tell him that. I was fairly certain he wasn't at that point yet, maybe not even sure he wanted more than sex. However, my reaction may have gave that away...

"Crazy, right?" Travis asked. I jerked my head up. He was looking at me and looking a bit forlorn, but he wasn't screwing with me. Did he really not get it?

"Uh, yeah," I managed. Might as well save face, even though part of me wanted to scream, 'I love you, you moron!' Travis nodded and took a deep breath as he turned away.

"Well, I guess you'll probably want to get ready for dinner at Kyle and Eric's place."

"Oh," I said, startled. He was dismissing me, just like that. And, just because I'm that sort of guy, I felt tears sting my eyes. They wouldn't be stopped, that I knew... 

So, I left, before Travis noticed that I was crying. Even though it wasn't even nine in the morning yet, and how long did he really think it would take me to get ready? I left because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I could have told him how I felt, but... what can I say? I really am a loser.



A Different Perspective Ch. 05



Confusion really doesn't even begin to cover it. How I was feeling, that is.

I really, really didn't want Keith to go, but I couldn't imagine any way to get him to stay. He was uncomfortable, I was uncomfortable; I thought I was giving him an easy out, but instead I felt like a giant asshole. I'll be honest with myself, though, and admit that Keith's reaction hurt. First, him coming out dressed. We had always had lazy mornings. He would wear my robe, and we'd eat together, and we'd talk. He marched out with his shirt tucked in – like maybe he was ashamed of what we were doing? I couldn't really figure it out. 

Really, I thought there was something between us. Relationship-like, not just fuck buddy. I know I didn't handle Eric well, but I couldn't stand the thought of telling Eric it was something if it turned out to be nothing. It was stupid, really, but I felt like Keith and I should have a conversation about what we were doing before Eric and I had that conversation. Yeah, real stupid. Thanks, Eric.

I also realize that I'm projecting my anger at myself onto Eric. Yeah, I should have talked to Keith, but I expected to have more time. 

But did I want something with Keith? Funny, I had never really consciously wanted a romantic relationship with him, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. My thoughts ran in circles all day, but I didn't call him, and he didn't call me. Kyle called to wish me a merry Christmas and to say that Eric didn't speak for the both of them. He supports whatever Keith and I decide, and he's not judging us. It was actually pretty nice, but it also made me suspect that perhaps he and Eric had argued about it when Eric got home. 

The next day I had a nice dinner with my parents, and my brother and sister and their families. I had a nice time, and when my sister, Jenna, asked if I was dating anybody, I gave her a glossy, family-friendly version about Keith. Really, I thought I was being honest, but Jenna disagreed.

"Cut the shit."

Her exact words. I love my sister, but she's no-nonsense, and has been known to talk like a trucker. Or a sailor.

"No, seriously, cut the shit. You're not confused; you're just being a little pussy."

Did I say no-nonsense? I meant bitch.

"Go get him! Honestly, I don't know what you're waiting for. And really, you had no idea? He's had a hard-on for you since you were, like, 22. Of course he wants more than a screw!"

"Your kids hear you talk like this?" I asked innocently. She had a five and an eight year old, girl and boy, plus another on the way. She just glared and sighed in a very exasperated way.

"She busting on you again?" her husband, Roger, asked, coming over to rub her shoulders.

"Hey! Who says it's me doing the busting?" she asked, turning to look at him. Instead of shrinking under Jenna's glare, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a lopsided smile.

"Because it's always you, honey," he said as he leaned down to kiss her brow. She smiled.

I was watching my nieces and nephews – I had two of each – play with their gifts when I realized Jenna was right. I was being a chicken-shit. I should just go see Keith and tell him how I felt. If I had messed up our friendship, well, I'd just have a deal with that, but if he wanted more, well... I wanted more. It was weird to admit it, but I really did. I wasn't going to tell him to move in, but waking up next to him... it was nice. And it wasn't nice because I was waking up next to someone again, something I had been used to doing with Mark, but it was nice because I was waking up next to Keith. I *liked* waking up next to Keith. And talking to him... I loved talking to Keith, and I always had. We could talk for hours, or we could just hang out. It didn't matter. We meshed.

After I got home from my parents house, I called Keith. No answer. I wondered if he was just avoiding my call or if he really wasn't home. His family did stuff earlier than mine did, though, so unless he went somewhere else he should probably be home. I kicked myself for not just going over to his place to talk to him. Really, I don't know what my rush was – we both had over a week off from school, and there would be other opportunities to talk. Still, I called again and left another message. A long message. It was descriptive. Not quite sure what I was thinking – maybe it was because I wasn't thinking. I just couldn't wait to tell him what I thought, that I didn't want this to just be casual sex. That I wanted to *date*. Or something. Whatever, I'm not good with words. That's Keith's department. 

I sat on my couch and stared at the little tree Keith had helped me pick out almost three weeks previous. We had gone to a farm and cut it down, something I had never done with Mark because he was allergic to them. My family had sometimes had a real tree, but Keith's were die-hard cut-it-down-yourself type of people. So, Keith helped me out. 

Insert big sigh. Keith again. How had I never noticed how much he was involved in my life? Actually, that wasn't true. After I read Mark's journal, I knew how empty my life was without my friends, but I was so messed up... then to have him back in it again. I really had taken Keith for granted; I realized it quite clearly. No, I wouldn't mess it up, not if there was a chance that he was interested.

I had apparently drifted off on the couch. When I woke up, "A Christmas Story" was playing on TV for the umpteenth time. I was confused, before I heard the knock again. It was hesitant, and I barely heard it over the TV. It was actually amazing that I had even woken up. I rolled off the couch and practically stumbled the short distance to the door. I opened it without looking, and found Keith on the doorstep. 

"Merry Christmas," he said as he walked in. 

"You, too," I answered quietly. I was happy to see him, but I was surprised, and still half asleep.

"You look tired," Keith said, but he didn't wait for me to answer, "So, I'll make this quick. Look, I chickened out yesterday. I love you."

Oh. Not exactly what I was expecting. I hadn't thought about that; I wasn't quite there. He loved me? Holy shit. Holy SHIT. This wasn't bad, though. No. Just surprising. Holy shit.

"Oh. Okay, I didn't mean to tell you that," Keith said, sounding as surprised as I felt. His face was beat red. When he continued, he was very quiet. "I meant it, but I wasn't going to say that. I just... don't want this to just be sex, and I don't want this to end," he finished slowly.

"Oh," I said. My mouth had finally decided to work, though my mind was still a bit mushy. I gave a small shrug. "Well, yeah, I agree."

Keith just stared at me like I had three heads. 

"Sorry, I just woke up," I admitted, smiling a little. "I mean, I agree that I don't want this to just be sex, and I don't want this to end. I want to... you know, date, see each other, whatever. That kind of thing. Why are you still looking at me like that? Can you say something?"

He stared for what felt like forever, but then he laughed, and he hugged me. I hugged him back.

"I've been driving around for hours, psyching myself up to come over here and tell you that," Keith admitted. "I almost can't believe this... it's like it's too good to be true."

"So you obviously didn't get my message," I said with a chuckle. He shook his head. That would explain the big production. I gave him a quick grin at him. "It would have saved you some gas."

"Oh," Keith said with a sigh. "That's –"

"Shh," I told him as I pulled his mouth down to mine. After pushing his coat off of his shoulders, I pushed Keith backward against the front door, still kissing him, and ran my hands down his sides. I rubbed my pelvis against him, which put his cock against my lower stomach. Then I slipped his sweater over his head, and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. After each button I kissed at the exposed flesh, until I was at the top of his chinos. I sucked on and played with his nipple for a bit, before I unbuttoned his pants and started to slip his shirt off of his shoulders, but he stopped me. 

"Don't you want to see if Ralphie gets the BB gun?" he whispered, low and sensual, in my ear. I burst out laughing; I couldn't help it. He laughed and kissed my neck. He slipped off his shoes and pulled me toward the bedroom, but I pushed him up against a wall again and pushed at his pants. I knew he liked to be teased, so I teased him to the best of my ability. I licked at his head, wetting it, and then ignored it to suck on his balls, something else he seemed to love. One hand held his hip; the other reached behind his balls to rub at his taint and around his hole. Keith loved that, too. His hands lightly touched my head, grasping at my hair. Finally, I licked my way up his shaft and around his head, before slowly sliding him into my mouth. I continued to tease him, though; I wouldn't take the whole thing in. He groaned and rolled his hips, his way of begging me for more, but I shifted so as to continue my tease. His hands clenched in my hair and I took almost all of him in my mouth – he was long, probably eight inches and thick, but I did the best I could. Moving against his hips, I sucked him off, and actually managed to get my nose to brush his pubes. Keith kept groaning and murmuring, and I kept sucking. He held my head but didn't push it, even as his hips started moving faster. I barely tasted the precum oozing from his cock, his was fucking my mouth so fast and deep. His stomach muscles tensed, my first sign that he was about to cum. I tightened my lips and got him as deep as I could. His cock spurted into my mouth, his hips thrusting his cock into my mouth even after he was finished. I had swallowed as he came, not spilling a drop even when he was furiously pumping himself into my mouth.

Reluctantly, I freed his cock from my mouth, but slowly, and I licked around his head before releasing it. He sighed, deeply, and pulled me into a deep kiss. Our tongues danced around each other and it was my turn to sigh. I pushed my hard cock into his thigh, not because I thought he needed reminding, but because I was so hard that I needed the contact. 

"Bedroom?" Keith murmured as he nipped at my neck. He knew I loved that. I nodded furiously and let myself be led. He undressed me, ignoring my cock, instead sucking on my nipples. It was his revenge, the brat... I told him as much.

"I'm not a brat," he laughed, then thought for a moment. "Well, maybe a little. But you like it."

"I do," I growled, thrusting myself into his hand, which he finally decided to cup my cock with. 

"I think you had something in mind...?" he asked.

"Can I... well, I know you're not big on it, but I really want to fuck you," I managed. Really, it was unfair making me talk in my state. 

"Yeah?" Keith asked, breathless.

"Yeah," I affirmed. True, I mostly preferred to take it, but tonight... all I wanted was to take him. If I was reading gay porn there would be some crap about me wanted to claim him, make him mine, something along those lines – but maybe that was true. Maybe it was the sudden realization that he was *mine* that made me want him. Who knows? 

"I'd love that," Keith whispered, his voice low and raspy. My cock twitched.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'd love your cock in my ass, Travis," he whispered as he gave my neck and hard nip. Christ, I could love this man.

And then it hit me. Keith loved *me*. He really did. He loved me. Keith loved me.

I don't know why, but thinking about that made me really, really happy. It also made me want to fuck him even more.

I grabbed the lube and pushed him back. I kissed his thighs and sucked on his balls as I worked my fingers inside of him for the first time. He was so tight on my fingers, my cock twitched again at the thought of being inside of him. I sucked on his semi-hard cock as I stretched him. Truthfully, I was as eager as a 16-year-old virgin and all I really wanted to do was jump him, but I didn't want to hurt him.

"Travis," he whispered, and then giggled a little. "I'm not a virgin. I'm ready."

"Oh," I said, feeling bashful. "I didn't want to rush you... I didn't know. I've only ever done this with..."

I stopped. I didn't want to talk about Mark. Keith understood – or else he really didn't want to either, and who wants their bed partner to talk about an ex IN BED? Really, though, I was almost 30, and it occurred to me I was kind of inexperienced. That thought didn't last long, not with Keith lying down before me, his legs spread and his cock hard. He grabbed my ass and pulled me toward him, something I had done to him a few times. 

My cock head pushed against his hole, and I felt his whole body relax beneath me. I grabbed his cock and slowly fisted it as I pushed in. We both gasped as my head popped in, and I continued fisting him until my balls hit his ass.

I tried to go slow, but I didn't really succeed. I thrust my tongue into his mouth as I fucked him, and we went from dancing to dueling. Keith grabbed my ass as I thrust into him, and we groaned into each other's mouths – it was hot, and passionate, and maybe a little wild. I don't normally do this, but with Keith – wow. Wow.

Keith came at the same time I did, which had never happened to me before. Having his ass clench down on my cock as I came – wow. Again, wow. Maybe it bears repeating – wow.

I collapsed on top of him, and we held each other until my cock was soft enough to slip out of him. All I wanted to do was pass out in his arms, but I had to get up to turn off the lights and TV. As I was looking at my tree Keith came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. I covered his hands with mine, and leaned back against him. Then, we stood there in the soft glow of Christmas lights, looking at the tree and watching the snow fall outside. And I realized, again, that Keith was really mine.

Definitely the best Christmas ever.