Cycles
By Mickey M
© September 1997

It's funny how everything cycles around. Birth, life, death, fear, hatred and joy. Everything. Life wasn't going to make us an exception, either. 

I was making notes in my log book from yesterday's reports when I heard the jeep making its way up our road. I say 'our', because, in the ten years we've lived here no one else has moved into this area. Not yet, anyway. I smiled in anticipation of my partner's arrival, since I had some good news for him. Daryl had called me earlier in the afternoon to tell me that he and Rhiannon and the kids would be stopping by on their way to his new assignment; Lackland AFB in Texas. He'd finished with medical school three months before, graduating in the top five percent of his class. Blair and I had gone west to San Francisco to Berkeley to watch him graduate, both intensely proud of the accomplishments he'd achieved.

The only thing that had marred the occasion had been Simon's absence. My heart still contracted painfully thinking about it. Simon and his new wife, Roxanne, had died when their car slid on an icy patch on the road and overturned, killing both instantly. That had been three years ago, and I still missed my old friend.

The worst part about that had been that it left ten month old Elissandra--the biggest surprise of Simon's life--an orphan. Roxanne had gotten pregnant shortly after they'd married, a change of life baby, Simon told me.

Daryl and Rhiannon were raising Elissandra with their three children. He told Blair on the phone one night that they considered her more a daughter than a sister anyway after all, there was nearly 24 years separating her and Daryl, and he had a child older than her, to boot.

*That* had been the biggest surprise in life, I think. I can't say, given what preceded it, that it had been *totally* unexpected, but still... Daryl had come to me and Blair about six months after he and I had had our first talk, when we'd found out he and Rhiannon were dating.

"She's pregnant," he said, eyes watching the ground intently.

"She's *WHAT*?!" I bellowed, trying unsuccessfully to hold my temper. "Are you an *idiot*? God, Daryl...she's just turned 17! You're still in college, Air Force be damned, and she's still in *high* *school*! How the hell are you going to take care of a baby?"

"We want to get married," he said defiantly, throwing a look over to Blair, who was watching the whole thing quietly, not saying a word.

"Oh, Daryl," I sighed. "Man, you're throwing your life away here, kid." *I* turned to look at Blair, pleading in my eyes.

My lover answered the mute plea with a shake of his head. "We need to talk to Rhiannon and Pat and Alisha," he said quietly, "before any decisions are made."

"We're not giving the baby up and she's not having an abortion," Daryl muttered.

I glared at him. "That decision is Rhiannon's," I said. "It's up to her."

"I know--we've already talked about it. She wants to keep it. So do I."

"Have you told your dad?" Blair asked, his voice calm and soothing. I closed my eyes, trying to envision *that* encounter.

"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you guys first. Figured you could help me..." his voice trailed off and he raised his eyes. Blair smiled at both of us.

"We'll help, Daryl, but *you've* got to be the one who tells him. It can't come from anyone but you."

"I know," he replied quietly.

Simon had been dumbfounded, furious and happy, by turns. We had a *lot* of phone conversations that first month, getting everything settled. Simon and Roxanne flew out in February for the wedding; Rhiannon graduated from high school in late May, and on the second of July, Patrick Simon Banks made his entrance into the world.

Daryl and Rhiannon made Blair and I the godparents, which thrilled both of us. Since the kids lived here while Daryl finished up his undergrad degree, we child-proofed the house, put up a swing-set and took turns with Patrick and Alisha babysitting when the kids needed a break.

I never wanted kids. When I was married to Carolyn, things were too shaky to really consider them; later, with Blair, it wasn't anything I really thought of. It was nice to be a godparent because we got to experience the fun and the joy without really having to deal with the hassles, though Blair assured me from time to time that all I needed to do was wait a while. Once our godchild achieved puberty, things would change. When I thought back on the year that I more or less dealt with Daryl by myself, I had to agree.

Daryl and Rhiannon seemed to excel at parenthood though, no matter the odds thrown into their paths; things like a horrific study schedule, criticism from a lot of people for a mixed race marriage, ostracism for their youth--or Rhiannon's, anyway, and poverty. Even with an Air Force stipend and extra student loans, a student in medical school has a lot of expenses. We all helped out when we could, but I think they would have made it anyway.

Now they had their hands full for real. Patrick had just turned five; Jeanna was almost three and Rachel would be a year in November. Not to mention Elissandra, who was nearly four. I shook my head, wondering, not for the first time, how Daryl and Rhiannon kept their sanity intact.

I smiled then, thinking of their arrival. I couldn't wait to see 'my' grandchildren again--it'd been a long three months since graduation.

The crunch of boots on gravel made me look up; it seemed a long time since I'd heard the jeep coming up Skyway drive. Of course, I forgot on a regular basis that everything carries up here, sound being no exception. It was two miles after you turned on to the road from the highway to our driveway; another quarter of a mile after that before reaching the cabin. Blair had obviously not been in a big hurry.

I watched him through the kitchen window as he came up the walk. Still beautiful, still Blair. Lean body with muscles defined in all the right places. His hair was still long, though not as long as he'd worn it ten, or even five, years ago. A little bit gray at the temples, but only really noticeable when he wore it pulled back, like now. Glasses now a permanent part of the man, as the academic life caught up with his eyesight. Three earrings, rather than two. I raised my hand and fingered the match to his third.

That had been a surprise, to both of us. I got the piercing--or, really, the re-piercing--done the Saturday after he'd returned from Africa. We went shopping and picked out a set we both liked; tiny, delicate gold hoops, then went and had my ear done. It felt like a commitment ceremony to us, and I regarded it as binding as any wedding band, though we'd had no need for anything like that. I hadn't removed it since I'd gotten it. I fingered the earring again and smiled. Tomorrow was our anniversary--fourteen years together as friends, thirteen as lovers and life partners.

The screen door slammed then and I winced as the noise reverberated through my head. No matter how many times I reminded him, Blair usually managed to forget to catch the door. The hinges had never worked properly and the damn thing was as likely to slam shut as it was to stay open. You never knew which it would be until it happened.

"Hey," he called to me as he dropped his book bag on the couch and hurried down the hall to the bathroom.

"Hey, yourself, Chief." I sat back in my chair to wait for him. He reappeared a scant minute later, tugging on his zipper. "Need some help with that?" I managed a vocal leer.

"Sure, babe, later." He winked, then stopped in front of me.

I tilted my head back a little, looked up at him. "I missed you today," I told him.

"Mmm--I miss you every day," he countered, bending to kiss me. His mouth explored mine quickly but thoroughly before he pulled away.

"Yeah, *definitely* later," I muttered, my lips on fire. I watched him lean up against the wall, a study in casualness. "So how was you day?"

"Weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah." He shook his head as though he couldn't quite comprehend the weirdness, then sat down opposite from me at the table. "This morning, after my Anthro 301 class, I got snagged by a student outside my office who asked how I liked being a, and I quote, a 'fucking cocksucker', end quote."

I stared at him for a minute, not completely sure he wasn't pulling my leg. "What'd you say to him?"

"Told him it was highly underrated as a skill and not to knock until he'd tried it."

My breath left me in a surprised whoosh. "You didn't really?"

"Yeah, I did." I could hear the tremble in his voice now, and knew this kid had angered him. Well, it pissed me off just hearing about it--funny as Blair's response had been. He shook his head again. "I still can't believe this kid--a fucking *kid*, Jim--said that to me!"

I shook my head. "Guess homophobia's alive and well on American campuses."

Blair snorted. "Not to mention lack of respect for the older generation." He stopped and looked surprised that he'd just said *that*, then shrugged and continued, "it goes in cycles, man. Every so many years we have to have a rise in the percentage of people who lost enough brain cells as children to make them nazi assholes."

"Speaking of children," I said lightly, trying to change to topic to something a little less explosive, "ours are coming to visit."

He brightened a little. "Really? When?"

I smiled. "They ought to be here in an hour or so. Daryl called from Lake Havasu, said they were on their way to Texas but wanted to stop off for a few days."

"Sounds good to me, man." He got up and began rummaging through the refrigerator.

"What're you looking for?"

"Food. Do we have enough to feed six additional people?"

"More like four, the two little ones don't eat a lot."

"Yeah, right," he mumbled. "I know--we can grill hamburgers and I'll make up a pasta salad to go with them."

"Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about it right now. We have time. It's just past three, it'll be well before dinner time when they get here."

He turned around and looked at me. "I need to do something, Jim. I'm still pissed off, I still have all this extra energy rushing through me...I need to do something with it."

"C'mere and give me a hug, Sandburg."

He stared at me for a minute, then I found my arms full of Blair as he straddled my lap. His face was inches from mine when he asked, "how's that?"

"Better," I answered, rubbing his back slowly. "You're all tense, babe."

"Nasty comments will do that."

"You're usually pretty good at ignoring them." I kissed his forehead.

"Yeah, but even I can only ignore so much. It gets *old*, man! We're into the two thousands now. Why can't we as a society get past hate and prejudice?"

I shrugged, awkwardly, since he was on my lap. "I don't know."

He sighed deeply and laid his head on my shoulder. "I love being here with you," I heard him say quietly. "You make me feel safe and loved."

"Because you *are* safe and loved, sweetheart." I smoothed my hand down his back again. "Know what tomorrow is?"

"Saturday?" he teased. I saw the wicked light in his eyes and pinched his butt.

"Smart ass. Try again."

"You know perfectly well that I know what tomorrow is. What'd you want to do?"

"Well, since we'll be entertaining..."

He heaved a big put-upon sigh. "There goes lying in bed all day, fucking our brains out."

"As if we do that any more," I replied. "We haven't spent a whole day in bed in years."

"Not together, anyway," he teased, referring to my bout with the flu bug from hell about a year and a half ago.

"Man, you think you're really funny, don't you?" I leaned in and put on my 'menacing' face--which actually hadn't worked with him in, oh, about thirteen years.

"Some people think, I know," he quipped, leaning down to brush my lips with his own. "I love you, you know."

I shifted my hands to cup his ass, sliding them back and forth across the denim, tracing spiral patterns with my fingertips. "I love you too, baby," I muttered, my head following his to capture those teasing lips.

We lost ourselves in gentle exploration for a long, long time. Giving and receiving comfort and pleasure was uppermost at that moment and we drifted on a sensual wave, not trying to arouse each other, just enjoying each other. At last we separated, my lips tingling with sensation and throbbing from heat. Blair remained straddled across my thighs, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I hear a car," I commented few minutes later. "It's turning onto our road."

He shifted off me with a sigh. "I could stay like that forever," he said.

"No you couldn't. Another few minutes and I'd be moving you because of terminal leg cramps."

He made a face at me. "That's like, *so* not romantic, Jim."

"Yeah, well, what can I say." I stood up and stretched, my right calf throbbing warningly that it hadn't appreciated me sitting oddly with Blair on my lap.

He gave me an appraising once over, his eyes lingering on my crotch for a half second longer than anywhere else.

"You keep those thoughts, Junior," I warned. "We'll get to them soon enough."

He made another face at me and headed for the door.

* * * *

Daryl and Rhiannon and the kids pulled into the driveway a few minutes later and we greeted them with smiles and kisses. Patrick, Elissandra and Jeanna all vied for our attention, each trying to outshout the other to get noticed. "Papa Jim" and "Papa Blair" still rang in the air for several minutes after we got everyone shuffled inside.

"How long can you stay?" I asked Daryl, watching in amusement as he sprawled out on our couch.

"Until Monday. I have to report in by next Friday and we want plenty of time to get down there and get settled."

"You guys gonna live in base housing?" Blair brought in beer for us and Daryl and an iced-tea for Rhiannon. The kids, baring Rachel, had gone back outside to play on the swingset. Rachel contented herself with climbing all over me, using me as a human jungle gym.

"Yeah," Daryl commented into his beer bottle as he swallowed. "We talked it about it," he indicated his wife who was leaning back against the couch with her eyes closed, probably enjoying the quiet. "It's likely going to save us the most money, which is a big consideration right now. We can't really afford for Rhi to go to work right now, not when we'd have to pay child care for four kids."

"Ouch," Blair nodded, obviously knowing more about child care costs than I did.

"How much does it cost? For child care?" I was actually interested, since this was something I'd never run into. I knew that Patrick and Alisha had decided against Alisha going back to work until Ryan--*their* surprise baby--was old enough to stay home alone after school.

Rhiannon sighed and opened her eyes. "We figured it out, Jim, to be about three hundred twenty dollars a week for all four kids."

My eyes widened at that. "God almighty! How does anyone afford it?"

Daryl grinned wryly at me. "Welcome to the world of parenting. That's why it's actually cheaper for Rhi to stay home. At this point she probably couldn't earn any more than what it'd cost us for daycare, so why bother? Another year, when Patrick is in school full-time, then we'll see. 'Cause Elissandra will be in part-time then, too."

I shook my head, amazed. "Incredible."

We fell into small chit-chat after that, with them filling us in on what had happened over the last few months. Rhiannon went in to the den to call her folks and Daryl and Blair and I took Rachel and went outside to watch the other kids playing.

My partner soon succumbed to the lure of three voices chanting "come on, Papa Blair", and went to hang on the monkey bars with them. Daryl stretched out in the grass with Rachel on his chest and dozed, and I just sat there, content.

I must have spaced a little because I came back to myself with a jolt when I heard a small voice ask, "Papa Blair, what's a queer?"

My eyes met Blair's, which were wide and dark with shock. He knelt down next to Patrick and asked gently, "Where'd you hear that word, baby?"

Patrick had a look of fear on his face. "Two of the men in daddy's work said it," he stumbled. "They said 'those're the queers in Daryl's family' when they were lookin' at pitures on the wall."

Blair settled himself onto the grass and drew Patrick down into his lap. "That word," he began evenly, calmly, "is a very not nice word that some people call people like me and Papa Jim."

"Why?"

My heart was aching at this point. How do you explain homophobia to an innocent five year old child? Blair met my gaze once again and I saw my sadness reflected in his eyes.

"Some people don't like it when two men love each other."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Patrick. Maybe it makes them afraid, because they don't know better. It's different, so it's scary."

"But mommy and daddy said it doesn't matter what a person looks like, if you love them."

"That's right, Patrick. It *shouldn't* matter. But some people can't see past color, or if someone is a girl or a boy."

"That's not fair!" the little boy cried and threw his arms around Blair's neck.

"No, it's not," my partner responded as he stroked the dark curls. "But some people are like that. Like I said, it's scary and they don't know any better. But you do, right?"

"Right," our grandson whispered fiercely. "*I* love you, and Papa Jim, and I don't care if you're both boys and love each other."

"And we love you, too, Patrick," Blair hugged the small body, absorbing the tears into his shirt. "It's okay, Patrick. Papa Jim and I will always love each other, no matter what."

"But it's mean to call people names," he sobbed.

"Yeah, it is." Blair closed his eyes. "Shhh, baby. As long as you know it's mean, and you don't do it, it's all right. Someone will see you being nice, then get to know you...and pretty soon you'll have them knowing it's okay."

Patrick sniffled. "Promise?"

"I promise," Blair answered solemnly. He met my eyes once more and I saw his promise to me shining there. I nodded to him, then leaned over and nudged Daryl.

"Wake up, lazy bones."

"I drove five hundred miles today," he muttered, eyes still closed. I glanced over at Blair and Patrick. Blair was still holding Patrick, rocking him back and forth, humming tunelessly to him.

"Your son needs you," I said, poking him again.

"What's wrong?" He started to sit up, then stopped when he encountered a sleeping Rachel. I picked her up off his chest and held her.

"He overheard two men talking about Blair and I--referred to us as 'queers'. He's pretty upset." I watched Daryl's eyes narrow for a minute as he mentally went through his list of acquaintances.

"Damn," he whispered. "I think I know who said that--and they're bastards, all right. All they're missing are the swastikas."

"What the hell were they doing in your house?"

"We had an open house after graduation, for the recent graduates. Rhiannon offered to host it, since she's got the most time at home. Everyone from my unit was there." Daryl watched Blair still rocking and talking quietly to Patrick. "I've never been ashamed of the two of you, and I like to think I'm raising my kids the same way."

"I never thought differently, Daryl," I told him. "Just thought you should know what was going on. It obviously bothered Patrick. A lot."

The young man stood up then and walked over to where Blair and Patrick were sitting. I heard him ask Patrick if he wanted to go for a walk, and the little boy's squeal of delight at the prospect. They headed off into the woods around our home and Blair and I settled down to entertain the girls until Rhiannon got off the phone.

* * * *

By the time Daryl and Patrick returned from their walk everyone was getting hungry. Blair and Rhiannon took over the kitchen while I started the grill. Daryl drew kid duty since he was the least able to produce an edible meal.

Shortly after we sat down to eat I heard the crunch of tires moving on gravel and got up from the table to grab extra plates. Blair watched me with a puzzled look until Patrick and Alisha pulled into the driveway, then his brain re-engaged and he got up to help me fix them something to eat. I shook my head at him and whispered, "I can't believe you didn't figure it out, Chief."

"Gimme a break here, man, I've been fending off homophobes and kids who think I'm an extension of the monkey bars. My brain cells are tired."

I grinned knowingly at him and headed back for the dining area.

"We're going to stay with you tonight, then go back to Rhi's folks tomorrow afternoon, stay the night with them." Daryl nodded toward his in-laws.

I raised an eyebrow in question. It wasn't that I cared about where they slept-actually, much as I loved my grandkids, it was a lot more peaceful for sleeping when they were at the *other* grandparents' house. I was just curious.

"Well, none of us have forgotten that tomorrow is your anniversary, Jim," Alisha began. "We thought you and Blair might like some time to yourselves for that."

Blair grinned wickedly and I cuffed his head gently. "Behave yourself," I admonished, trying vainly to keep the laughter out of my voice.

"I'm trying," he managed, "but it's hard." A wiggle of his eyebrows blew my control and around the table were several coughs as the rest of our clan tried to keep *their* amusement in line.

"You're so bad, my man," Daryl laughed, giving Blair a 'high-five'.

"Anytime, son," Blair laughed back.

Four small sets of eyes stared at us like we'd all lost our minds.

* * * *

"Wake up, wake up!" Three small voices warned me a split second before three small bodies landed on top of us. "Wake up, Papa Blair, Papa Jim! Wake up!"

"Wake *up*, Papa Blair," Elissandra poked Blair in the ribs. He grunted and curled inward. She poked him again.

"I'm up, poppet," Blair mumbled, kind of facing toward Elissandra. I smiled and opened my arms and Patrick and Jeanna snuggled into me.

"Happy...'versry," Jeanna managed. Patrick beamed, so I figured he'd been coaching her.

"Thank you, baby," I hugged her close.

"Papa Jim? What's an anversry?" Patrick snuggled in closer, obviously not wanting to be further away than his sister. Beside me the heap of bedclothes that had been my sleeping partner moved, sitting up and plopping Elissandra on his lap.

"An anniversary is something that people celebrate when they want to remember something really important or really special."

"What are you and Papa Blair sell...sellbrating?" he continued. My eyes met Blair's, and he was smiling too. Didn't this child ever run out of questions?

"We're celebrating how much we love each other, and how long we've been together."

"Oh." Patrick was silent for a second, considering that. "How long?" he asked finally.

"Fourteen years," I answered, not bothering to differentiate between lovers and not lovers. He wouldn't understand that for a long time anyway.

"How many's that?" was the next question, his little face screwed up in concentration.

"How many is this?" Blair countered, as he held out both hands, all fingers extended.

"Ten!" Patrick shouted joyfully. I winced and dialed my hearing down.

"That's very good, Patrick. Now how many is this?" Blair held out one hand, with his thumb folded under.

Patrick looked at the fingers, then pointed and counted, "One...two...three...four. That's four!"

"That's right, baby." I gave him a squeeze. "Ten and four more is fourteen."

"Wow!"

"Wow is right," I heard Blair mutter under his breath. I gave him an exasperated look and leaned in to kiss him.

"Mornin', lover," I said into his ear. He smiled back at me.

"'Morning, Jim."

I heard Rachel whimper, then cry, then low soothing noises followed by lusty suckling. Rhiannon appeared a moment later, Rachel in her arms. The baby was sucking on a bottle contentedly.

"Guess the little hooligans got you up earlier than you're used to, didn't they?" Her eyes twinkled at us, taking in the two of us sprawled in our shorts and T-shirts, three children sprinkled among us.

I flicked my eyes over to the clock and groaned when I saw that it wasn't quite six in the morning. "You didn't warn us they get up this early!" I accused. Blair snorted next to me.

"You didn't ask," she threw back. "I did warn you last night to get some sleep, since they start the day early."

"Early is *not* an accurate assessment of this," my partner mumbled.

"Shh..." I shushed them both. Patrick and Jeanna were growing heavy against me, their breathing evening out as they drifted off again. "They're going back to sleep," I whispered.

"Sweet dreams," Rhiannon whispered back as she shut the door. I reached one hand out to Blair, taking care not to disturb any sleeping children, and grasped his. He twined his fingers with mine, and we fell back asleep, too.

* * * *

"Whew." Blair flopped down on the couch next to me, his eyes closing. "Where do they get so much *energy*?"

I laughed. "This, from the man who used to *barely* handle sitting still? C'mon, Chief, it's not been that long ago that you bounced around like a bucking bronco. Just 'cause you're getting old and can't handle it..."

My lover opened his eyes and glared at me. "I am *not* getting old," he stated in an icy tone. "I'm getting better." With that he leaned over and kissed me, his tongue snaking out to caress my lips before I opened my mouth to let him in.

We shared kiss after kiss, shifting our bodies around slowly until we were lying on the couch, making out like teenagers.

We were alone. At last. The kids had left about an hour ago, the sounds of their shouts and cries and laughter still ringing in odd corners of the cabin. Strange how it was so eerily silent now. A sharp bite to the tender skin under my chin roused me from my mind's silent meanderings.

"OUCH!"

Blair pulled back and grinned at me. "That'll teach you to zone on me while I'm kissing you, big guy."

"Sorry. It's just so quiet in here, after last night and today."

He rubbed a hand over my head. The hair was awfully thin up there now, with my hairline moving further back every day, it seemed. "Yeah, I guess it is." He drew his finger across my lips, tracing the outline. I opened up and sucked his finger in, laving the tip of it, sucking like it was his cock. He shivered. "You're dangerous, man."

I released the finger. "I'm horny, Sandburg, and you started it."

His eyes were dark with desire, luminous in the dim light. "I always want to start it. I love the way you make me feel, Jim. Even after all this time, you touch me, and it's like that first time, all over again."

I stretched, shifting both of us until I was sitting up, propped against the arm of the couch. I pulled him up on me, shifting him around until we were both comfortable.

"I can still remember it like it happened yesterday, too," I admitted. "It was one of the thoughts that got me through the year you were gone."

"Me too." He stared into my eyes. "You were so fierce, down there. I'd never seen you like that before--not since, either, I don't think."

Down there. That fateful trip to Peru where everything had changed: for us, about us, between us. We'd gone down friends, returned as true partners, turned into lovers.

"There's been a lot has happened to us over the years," I continued, stroking his hair now. "We're not the same people we were."

"Did you expect we would be?"

"No, I guess not. I don't know." I was uncomfortable with introspection; that was his territory, not mine. "I do know that I love you more each day than the day before."

He twisted in my arms, bringing his mouth up to hover just over mine. The warm air from his mouth when he spoke next sent shivers and tingles racing up and down my spine. "Ditto for me, partner." He lowered his head and brushed those warm lips across mine, just enough for me to taste his heat. "I love you, Jim."

I moaned against his mouth as he deepened the kiss then. I might have said 'I love you' in return, I don't know. I do know I tangled my hands into his hair and crushed my mouth against his, eager to taste that heat again. Our mouths fused, exchanging passion for love and back again, the flavors in his mouth mingling to create a banquet for me to feast on.

He gasped against my mouth when I moved one hand from his head to his chest, moving up under his T-shirt, stroking the soft hair there. Flat nipples turned into tiny, erect nubs when I brushed my fingertips across them. I returned to one nipple and rubbed my thumb over it repeatedly, enjoying the texture changes as the tiny bit of flesh engorged under my caresses. A whimper escaped our kiss, but I don't know which one of us was responsible for it.

I nipped gently at his lips before drawing away, panting to get my breathing under control. "You taste so good," I muttered to him, moving my lips down his throat. He tasted of sweat and woodsmoke, spice and heat. His skin was warm, the pulse of blood moving right under my tongue.

He sat up abruptly and peeled his shirt off, exposing fully erect nipples. Tender, tight little buds that would taste as good as they felt. I leaned in to lick one and felt his pulse jump, heard his breath catch in his throat.

"Yes," he moaned quietly as he held my head against him. "Oh, yes..."

I ran one hand down his abdomen, growling low in my throat when the muscles rippled under my touch. He was fully erect, throbbing behind the cloth covering him. I stroked him through his shorts, his cock hot to the touch. To my touch. My body arched involuntarily, seeking his. Someone--me?--groaned, arching again, pushing the two hard bulges against each other.

My hands were shaking when I raised them to undo the string at his waist. I pushed the fabric down, watched his cock spring free. He stood quickly and shucked the shorts all the way off, then pulled mine off me before returning to his perch on my chest. He was beautiful, sitting there on me. His head was tilted slightly and he watched me through narrowed eyes, his pupils dilated fully, nearly obscuring the blue of his irises. Cock hot and hard with his desire, spitting and drooling with need, the red-purple tip already wet and glistening. I shifted my hands under his ass and pushed forward, until he was resting his hands against the armrest of the couch, knees pushed against my armpits, cock hovering over my mouth. I extended my tongue and licked the crown lovingly, tasting the bite of pre-ejaculate, savoring it. He moaned and pushed down, sliding his cock into my hungry mouth. I took him in, sucking hard, all the way to the base. He gasped above me, then began to pump, fucking my mouth. I opened all the way and welcomed him in.

The wet, hungry sounds of my sucking, combined with the hot little grunts and gasps Blair made filled the air around us and threatened to overwhelm me. I stopped sucking for a moment, gently licking him as I sought to regain the control I'd nearly lost.

"Want you, baby," my lover moaned above me, shivering when I breathed against the sensitive tip of his cock. The shiver turned to a shudder when I reached one hand down and cupped his balls, hanging heavy with their burden of seed.

"I want to drink you," I managed hoarsely, my throat thick with desire. I could taste him...wanted to taste all of him.

"Oh, god," he breathed, moaning again when I ran my tongue up and down his length before drawing him full into my mouth again. Shudder after shudder wracked his body as I drew on him. I raised a hand to his face, pressing a finger against his lips. He pulled me in, sucking my finger with the same rhythm I was sucking his cock. When it was wet I pulled it from his mouth then began circling his asshole with it. He was already partially loosened up, his body so ready for me that he wouldn't need much prep. I pressed the finger into him, moaned around his cock when he tightened his muscles around my finger.

Two fingers into him, scissored to finish opening him. His body was furnace hot inside, the velvety interior surrounding my questing fingers. I grasped one ass cheek with the other hand, kneading and caressing in time with my finger thrusts. He pushed backward onto my fingers, then forward into my mouth, completing the rhythm. I increased my suction, pulling on him almost frantically. I wanted to taste him, feel him flood my mouth. He groaned when I removed my fingers, cupping his ass with that hand and moving the other up to pinch at his nipples. He gave a surprised shout and flooded my mouth with his essence. I drank it down eagerly, swallowing repeatedly to get it all, loving the small noises he made as my throat muscles caressed him.

Blair pulled back from me, shifting backward down my ultra-sensitive body. He slid over my cock, brushing it with the cleft of his ass. I groaned, hands reaching for him. He leaned down and pulled a small tube out of his shorts, a tube of lubricant. With a wicked gleam in his dark eyes he squeezed some onto his fingers, then spread it on my cock. My hips bucked, arching upward against his hand. He squeezed my balls gently, but tightly. "Not yet," he muttered as he smoothed the lube all the way on. I moaned, but couldn't form any words.

Then he was surrounding me, pushing down on me. I moved my hands from his waist to his ass, gripping and spreading his luscious cheeks, opening him wide for me. He moaned quietly as he sank down on me, his eyes hot and wild as he took me full into his body.

 We rode hard. Time blurred then ceased altogether as the rhythm and motion of our bodies became everything. His cock engorged again when I repeatedly thrust against his prostate, bumping the tender gland gently until he whispered harshly for me to stop, then don't stop, then stop, don't stop. I closed my eyes to focus totally on the feel of him surrounding me. The heat of his body combined with mine felt like a core meltdown in progress. The feeling intensified as his body tightened around mine again, his release imminent. I thrust upward hard, slamming into him. He clenched his muscles around me and shot onto my stomach. I shouted his name and came into him, my body straining to give him everything.

When it was over he collapsed against my chest, grimacing at the sticky feel of his own fluid on us. Both of us were wet with sweat and panting hard, our hearts pounding furiously.

"I love you," we muttered at almost the same moment, our fingers twining with each other's.

We held each other like that, bodies slowly cooling, until the fire burnt itself out. Then we rose, showered, and went to bed where we made love again, then again once more, showing with action our love for each other on this most special day for us.

* * * *

"The house still smells like sex," I complained. "They're gonna step one foot over the threshold and know what we were doing all night."

Blair smirked at me. "You don't really think they don't *already* think that? Hell, Jim, that's what all couples do on their anniversaries."

Yeah, I knew that. I just didn't like thinking that our 'kids' knew that. Even though they were married, too.

"Besides," my partner continued, "you smell it more strongly because of your senses. *I* don't smell anything unusual."

"Your nose doesn't work, most of the time," I countered, then smiled. I dialed down to a 'one', relieved to find that the smell disappeared. It wasn't that I objected to it per se, it was the principle. Besides which, real or imagined, it was enough to keep me at least half erect, which was also not desired when you had small children climbing all over you.

Right on time they pulled into the driveway. It was Sunday afternoon and we had less than 24 hours to spend with our family before they headed off for Texas, and away from us.

It was strange and exhilarating to think of them as our family, though they'd been so for a while now. I closed my eyes briefly and sent a silent prayer to Simon, wherever he was. I'd tried to do right by his son, and his daughter, by extension. I had no experience whatsoever in parenting, but I did love them as if they were my own--and hoped that was enough.

"Papa Jim!" Tiny voices called my name and I opened my eyes with a smile, reverie over.

It would have to be enough. And meanwhile, the cycle continued...

~finis~

Back to Sentinel Stories