Chapter 44 Happy Ending #3
Adam’s face scrunched, connecting the dots of his scattered freckles. “Are you saying that dingleberries are more important than secrets?”
“Not more important. No. Equally important? Yeah.”
“Maybe I’m too cynical,” Matt continued. “I just want to know that someone can handle the little things before I’m going to trust him with my deepest secret.”
Adam’s eyes searched Matt’s face. “Fair enough. But you see, I want to know that someone trusts me with his secrets before I’m going to taste his bunghole breath.”
Matt lowered his mouth until it almost grazed Adam’s ear, whispered so softly the words hung between them like a mist. “I’ll make you a promise. Kiss me now and I’ll tell you my secret later—while my cum is still warm inside you.”
“Deal!” Adam pulled Matt’s mouth to his. Locked lips and lapped at Matt’s tongue with his own. Smiled as he did so.
Eventually, he came up for air.
“About that promise you just made,” Adam said, “are we ever gonna get to the part where your cum is inside me?”
“Fingers are standard fare for the next course,” Matt said.
“Can’t we skip to the entrée?”
Matt shook his head. “I hear the fingers at this restaurant are really good.”
“Well, tell the waiter to hurry up or I’ll take my business elsewhere!”
Matt sat up, reached for the elastic band of Adam’s underwear, and carefully worked them free of his rigid cock. Slid them off his body.
“Now it’s your turn.” Adam tugged at Matt’s boxer briefs.
Soon enough they lay facing each other, naked.
Adam cupped Matt’s balls as if assaying their quality. Tested the heft and girth of his erection. Talked to the penis as though it were a sentient being, asking if it wanted to go spelunking.
Matt reached down to Adam’s cock and milked its pre-cum. Slicked his middle finger, then pressed it to Adam’s spongy hole.
“Relax,” Matt whispered. Nuzzled Adam’s left nipple. Probed with his finger. “Let me in.”
Adam moaned as the finger eased inside him. One knuckle deep. Then two.
Matt nibbled the nipple.
Adam bucked and writhed, trying to escape Matt’s teeth, but, in the process, impaled himself further on the finger. Three knuckles deep.
He whimpered.
Matt added his index finger to the mix, corkscrewing his way in.
Adam bent his leg to provide better access.
They kissed while Matt finger fucked him.
And then it was time.
Matt slicked his cock with lube. Eased Adam onto his back. Pushed his legs apart, his feet bicycling upside down, his hairy hole angled up.
“I love you, Adam Maxwell,” Matt said as he pressed his cockhead against the hole.
“I love you, too, Matt Griffith.”
Matt’s cock was an inchworm hunching its way into the tight space, advancing a millimeter at a time, pausing to reassess, scrooching forward again.
Matt watched Adam’s eyes, searching for any hint of pain, saw only love reflected back at him. Love—and desire.
What followed was a collage of images, snapshots for Matt’s memory album: tufts of pit hair shimmering in the moonlight; tangled briar patch hair smoothed flat by leaking lube and pre-cum; downy leg hair brushing against his shoulders as he pushed into the hole, withdrew, and plunged in again.
Perky, pink nipples shining like pearls in the scalloped pecs in which they nested.
Shock on Adam’s face as his cock spurted cum—hands-free. A violent assgasm that left his legs twitching and his monkey toes curled as though he were on the receiving end of electroshock therapy.
Matt, his cock cocooned in the tight vice of Adam’s ass, felt his orgasm squeezed from him like toothpaste from a flattened tube.
They did not shower or clean up.
They spooned in the spoogey, sticky sheets, their hearts pounding, Matt’s arm draped over Adam’s shoulder, pulling him closer, Adam’s ass snuggled against Matt’s shriveling cock.
“Jeremiah Quince.” Matt whispered the name that haunted him.
“Who?”
“The guy I nearly killed. My dark secret.”
Adam tried to roll over.
Matt held him in place. This was scary enough. He didn’t want to see Adam’s face.
Adam lay there quietly for a moment, then pulled Matt’s arm tighter around him. Laced his fingers between Matt’s own.
“Tell me about Jeremiah.”
“He was my youth pastor. He was probably twenty-one, twenty-two years old—not much older than we are now.”
Adam squeezed Matt’s hand reassuringly.
Matt related the story of the rape/not rape with its consent/not consent in the darkened sanctuary of their little church.
Skipped ahead to his mother’s figuring out what had happened.
Her telling his dad. Matt’s being dragged to the park to witness vigilante justice fCOC-style, a baseball bat in lieu of God’s “terrible swift sword.”
Matt hesitated. He was at the place in the story where his dad had offered him a “Sophie’s Choice:” Take the bat himself and deliver three solid blows and it would end—or stand there like a pussy and let his dad finish the job. Literally, as in kill the bastard who had raped his son.
Adam rolled over and hugged Matt tight, absorbing the hurt like a cold compress.
“You took the bat, right? You didn’t really have a choice.”
“I took the bat,” Matt said, avoiding Adam’s eyes.
“Later, after...” Matt paused. “…Someone found Jeremiah and got him to the hospital, which probably saved his life. He had a ruptured spleen. Broken ribs. Broken teeth. I’m pretty sure the spleen and ribs are on me. That’s where dad told me to aim, the gut.”
Adam gasped. Then he reached up and stroked Matt’s hair. “There were three people in the park that night, two adults and one boy. One of those adults was a rapist. The other a sadist. You were victimized by both men. You get that, right?”
“Maybe so,” Matt said. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was a coward. I let my dad bully me into owning his evil. I’ve felt dirty ever since.”
Those were the last words Matt remembered saying before crying himself to sleep. Adam spooned him this time.
Saturday dawned with a glorious sunrise that set the birds to chirping. Squirrels scampered over the house’s eaves, then dived into nearby trees.
Matt awoke first. Turned on his side and lay there watching Adam breathe.
Eventually Adam stirred. Opened one eye, tentatively. Then the other.
“Good morning,” Matt said.
“Morning.” Adam yawned. Then he frowned. “I think I’m glued to the sheet.”
Matt grinned. “I know one way to get you unstuck.”
Adam managed a wry smile. “I’m fairly certain that’s what got me in this mess in the first place.”
“How’re you feeling?” Matt asked.
Adam sat up, peeled the sheet away from his body.
Hugged his knees. “Let me do a quick inventory. Let’s see.
My bladder’s screaming for relief. My ass is on fire.
My left nipple feels like someone went at it with a cheese grater.
There’s itchy, dried cum all over my skin.
And one, or both of us, has dragon breath. ”
Matt felt crestfallen.
Adam smiled mischievously. “And I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I’d do it all over again. Isn’t there some quote about ‘no pain, no gain?’”
Matt beamed. This was more like it! “That’s what trainers say, that you have to ‘feel the burn.’ You go pee, then I’ll give you a real workout.”
Adam laughed. Stood. Ambled to the bathroom. Peed.
When he returned, he leaned against the door jamb, picking at a glob of dried cum in his bellybutton.
“About that workout you offered to give me, I am interested. It’ll just have to wait a bit. I’ve got that meeting with Garland. Remember?”
Shit! Matt had forgotten all about that! “You said your dad nearly wrecked everything. What happened?”
“MCU presented their settlement offer. Free 4-year scholarship with room and board. Plus, I’d get $100,000 cash. Well, $70,000 after Garland’s fee. That’s rich kid money to me!”
“I agree,” Matt said. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, get this: Dean Smith is retiring, except that the way the lawyers reported it, it sounded like it wasn’t voluntary on his part, like they made it happen to please me.
Except that I never asked for that. And, even weirder, the new dean will publicly apologize to me in Chapel, which I never asked for either. ”
“Awesome!” Matt said, pretending like the whole thing hadn’t been his idea. “I told you Garland’s a great attorney. He’s obviously looking out for you.”
“Maybe.” Adam wasn’t convinced. “But Garland doesn’t know I’m vegetarian. And suddenly MCU’s gonna start offering vegetarian entrées? Something doesn’t add up.”
Matt shrugged, agreed it was weird. Changed the subject. “But what about your dad?”
Adam scowled. “So, dad showed up to the meeting uninvited. Garland told him that since I’m over 18, this is between MCU and me. Even MCU’s attorneys objected to his presence.”
“And?”
“Dad grumbled and complained, said he just wanted to make sure that I was treated fairly. Said the only reason to exclude him was that something fishy must be going on.”
Matt guessed where this was headed. “You agreed to let him stay, didn’t you?”
Adam nodded. “Big mistake.”
“…So, MCU explained their offer,” Adam continued.
“They said that I’d need to sign a confidentiality agreement, which wasn’t a surprise.
Garland had already told me that’s standard practice.
We were probably a minute or two away from finalizing the deal, and then dad spoke up.
He asked if anyone expected him to keep the settlement confidential because he wasn’t sure his conscience would allow him to do that. ”
Matt crossed his arms. “His conscience? What did he mean by that?”
“I’m getting there,” Adam sighed. “The good news is that Garland must have sensed things were heading south. He told MCU’s lawyers we needed to recess so that he could confer with his client.”
“How did they take that?”
“They weren’t happy. They reminded Garland that they had objected to dad’s presence in the first place.
They said that since dad had heard the settlement details, he would need to sign a confidentiality agreement as well or the deal is off.
And don’t even think of asking for more money to buy his silence.
One hundred thousand’s their final offer. And then they left.”
“FUCKING HELL!” Matt was furious. Like punch-a-hole-in-the-wall furious, except he wasn’t that stupid, this being Nicholas’s and Bradley’s house and their walls.
Everything. All his work and scheming to get Colton kicked out of school and Adam readmitted was threatened by Adam’s fuckwad father! What was it about fathers of gay sons that made them so awful at their jobs? Were gay sons really that hard to love?
Adam walked over and wrapped his arms around Matt’s waist. Looked up into his eyes. “I haven’t even told you the bad news yet.”
“It’s worse than this?”
Adam grimaced. “It involves you. That’s what dad’s whole ‘conscience’ thing is about. He told Garland that it makes him sick to think that I’ll be mocking God and returning to campus where I’ll secretly be your ass-boy. That’s what he called me, an ‘ass-boy.’”
Matt stroked the back of Adam’s neck, soothing him, while also imagining the myriad ways he would make Adam’s dad regret calling his son that name.
“I’ll leave MCU,” Matt said. “I can get a soccer scholarship at a nearby school. That’ll take away your dad’s leverage.”
Adam shook his head. “I know my dad. This isn’t about his conscience or my soul. It’s about money. He can’t stand the idea that I’ll get three times more money than he makes in a year. The only reason I told you about all this is because I don’t want any more secrets between us. Okay?”
“Yeah, but—”
“—But nothing,” Adam interrupted. “I’ve got this. This problem’s easy to solve. You and I are going to get our happy ending.”
Matt beamed with joy. Bent to kiss his boyfriend.
Adam squirmed away. “Dragon breath! Sorry! I’ll make it up to you, okay? Let me get this Garland thing out of the way. Then you can give me that workout you promised—assuming you’ve brushed your teeth and washed these sheets.”
Matt grinned.
“And then, while your cum is still warm inside me,” Adam said, “I’ll tell you my idea for a little trip we’ll take. A sort of scavenger hunt—with benefits.”