I heard the front door close, and Cole's somber, "Hi, Mom."

There was a short pause, and then, "Well . . . He works fast, doesn't he?"

"Huh?"

"You look thoroughly ravished," Mrs Smith said.

I could feel my face turning brick red.

Cole's exasperated voice said, "How do you know I don't have a girl in my room?"

"Do you?" came his mother's skeptical question.

Cole's voice was too low for me to hear his answer.

"I didn't think so. He didn't force you, did he?"

Again, I couldn't hear Cole's reply.

"Good. Don't do anything you don't want to do, and be careful. AIDS isn't just a rumor, you know."

This time I had no problem whatsoever hearing Cole.

"Mom!" he yelled in complaint. "We've barely done more than kiss!"

Oh, I don't know, I remarked in my mind, a mutual hand job while naked in a pool is just a bit more than a kiss.

"We don't know anything about this boy, Cole. He's probably a very nice boy, but for all intents and purposes, he's a stranger."

Cole avoided that topic.

"So you're all right with me being . . . you know?"

"What did you expect me to do, Cole? Throw you out? You're my son, and the last family I have left. I know you're ashamed of me for drinking so much . . . ."

She seemed to ignore Cole's abruptly terminated protest, because she continued without pause.

"...but one good thing came of it; I met a lot of queers, and I found out that they're just like everybody else: there are good ones and bad ones, and most of the ones I met were very nice people."

I wish she wouldn't keep using that term. 'Queer' is a derogatory term when straight people use it, although she didn't seem to be using it that way.

"You go to gay bars?" Cole asked, amazed.

Huh! I hadn't made that connection when she mentioned it...

"I'm not going to get hit on there, am I?" she stated.

Not by the guys, anyway, I thought. Then again, lesbians and gays usually frequented different bars. There was some intermingling, but usually not a lot.

She changed the subject. "And now you can go back to your boyfriend and tell him he can stop listening to private conversations; you're safe."

"He's not my boyfriend," Cole protested quietly.

I could feel my face burning again. For someone who drank so much, she was preternaturally observant, although she seemed to be completely sober at the moment. She must have seen my open door and guessed the rest.

But as for Cole's disclaimer . . . Well, it was kind of early to be thinking of taking the step to being 'boyfriends'. We'd only had today to get to know each other. On the other hand, we'd already done a lot of things that near-strangers, as we were, wouldn't have done. Although come to think of it, in the gay community our actions weren't so out of line. Nobody would have raised an eyebrow if they heard two guys had met, found a bed, and had full-out intercourse. Society expected it of us, and too many were willing to live down to that expectation. Considering our actions, I guess that included Cole and me.

But as far as Cole and I were concerned, I guess we could describe ourselves as 'friends with benefits', although that would be pushing it, too.

I gave up. We were in a conundrum of a grey area, I think. I was very attracted to Cole, and he was a nice guy, as well as being sexy as hell, but even as much as we'd talked today, I didn't know much about him. I hadn't even seen his room yet, which would probably tell me a lot. But damn it, we just 'clicked'. I felt so comfortable with him – like I'd known him for ages.

I got up and went in the other room.

"Sorry about that, Mrs Smith," I said, "but I've heard a lot of horror stories about boys coming out to their parents."

"Call me Claire," she said. "And I'm glad to see you looking out for him."

"I thought your name was Clara?" I asked.

"Never did like that name," she replied dismissively. "Sounds like something you'd call a cow."

I tried not to laugh at that, but I couldn't keep from smirking, and Cole reacted with a snicker. Must have been an old family joke or something. But it was kind of funny.

Claire gave me a conspiratorial smirk and a small wink, then looked at her son and said, "Why don't you go help Luke?"

Oh, he could 'help' me, all right . . . But it would probably be smarter to start getting my stuff organized.

It took us the rest of the night to get 'most everything set up. I'd 'told' Mrs Smith to take the night off, and ordered a couple of pizzas and a two liter bottle of Coke^® for the three of us. By the time it got there, she'd already had a couple of large drinks. Seemed she preferred tequila and lime 'on the rocks', mixed with a little grenadine and powdered sugar – at least, for that night. Eating helped her sober up a little bit, though.

Cole was such a neat guy; it was a shame that his mom drank so much. He tried to get her to slow down a couple of times, talking in low tones so I wouldn't hear. But I did. Seemed she was still mourning over her husband and other two sons. Couldn't she see that she still has a son that needs her? But it wasn't my place to say anything – especially not yet, when we all barely knew each other.

I couldn't sleep. The evening kept playing itself over and over in my mind as I tried to think of things that I could have done or said to change what had happened. Not that anything truly bad had happened: it was just my mom.

Mom just had to get drunk again, didn't she? Why? Damnit, it's embarrassing! I can just imagine what Luke's thinking; 'If she's alcoholic, what's to keep Cole from becoming one, too?'

Oh, I'll admit that I experimented with it last year. Got drunk a couple of times, too. But it's not like I have to drink: don't want to, even. I just don't see what's so great about it. But anytime one of my buds got his hands on some beer or something I'd have one too, just to fit in. But I'd just sip on that one beer or drink while my friends finished it off. They kept calling me a lightweight, but I really didn't want to end up like my mom, and I wasn't sure I couldn't.

I have to tell him. I have to tell Luke that I'm not like that: that; I'm not like my mother.

I found my shorts in the dark and slipped them on, the rougher fabric reminding me that I hadn't put my underwear back on after whacking off. Not that it mattered . . . unless Luke had x-ray vision or something. I smirked at the thought, but my face got a little warm, too.

When I got to the door to the garage I knocked on it: softly, 'cause I didn't want to wake Mom up. I waited a few seconds, but Luke didn't answer the door, so I knocked again. I didn't know if he was asleep, or was listening to music or watching a show or movie or something with the professional earphone set that he had.

Luke still didn't answer the door. Now I was feeling kinda torn. I didn't want to intrude on him if he was sleeping, but I really wanted to talk to him. I decided that if the door was open that I'd just peek in. If he was sleeping, I'd go back to bed and try to talk to him tomorrow.

The door was unlocked. I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. It was mostly dark in there, except for a nightlight and the light from all the LED's in the electronic stuff. It was just enough to show Luke . . . well, mostly on his bed rather than in it. His back was to me, and he was nude, his bedding stretched and kinda twisted up around his legs to about mid-thigh, the rest of it clutched in a bundle to his chest.

I immediately forgot my promise to myself to go back to bed. I quietly crept a little closer, then sat down on the couch. I'd seen Luke naked before, obviously, at the pool at his house, but I hadn't really had a chance to really look at him.

It didn't look like there was an ounce of fat on him: unlike me. I wasn't overweight, but you couldn't see my muscles like you could see his. I was sleek; he had definition. I could feel my eyes getting heavy, but I didn't want to leave just yet. Just a couple more minutes. God, he was sexy: broad back, thin waist, narrow hips, strong, round, muscular ass . . . I shook my head, trying to stave off sleep. Just a minute or two more...

I woke up, like I usually did, with a hard one. But I didn't feel the urge for a piss yet, so I rolled over on my back and started to gently stroke it, thinking of Cole. I'd come like a geyser last night when I jerked off after I'd gone to bed. I was hoping that thinking of him again would give me the same results. I looked over towards the door to the house, wondering if the cutie was up yet, and got a big surprise. The cutie was crashed out on my couch!

I quickly pulled the sheet up over my waist. God, I was glad he was asleep! Even so, I could feel myself going red at the thought of him catching me playing with myself.

He looked like he'd been sitting on the couch, fell asleep, and then fell over. What was he doing in here, anyway? Had something . . . No, if it had been something important, I'm sure he would have woken me up. Was he just perving on me? I had kind of mixed feelings about that. On the one hand my privacy had been invaded; on the other hand it was kind of flattering. If he had been perving on me, that is.

Well, there was only one way to find out. I thought about getting dressed, and how much to put on if I did, but Cole had seen me naked before, and he must have been staring at me last night too, so why bother?

Someone was shaking my shoulder.

"Cole?"

And calling my name.

"Wake up, Cole."

Not Mom. Male voice. Who?

Luke? What was he doing in my room?

Wait. This doesn't feel like sheets. Rough.

Memory flooded back, and panic set in. Every muscle in my body went rigid.

"You awake?"

I opened my eyes, and there was a half-hard cock in front of me. It was a beautiful, smooth cock, but...

"I'm sorry, Luke," I said, turning my head to meet his eyes. I could hear the fear in my voice.

"Hey, if you want to sleep with me, next time, ask," he said.

Huh? I propped myself up on my elbow so I could see his face better. I liked the view I had, but I could feel myself reacting to it, and I was pretty sure I was in trouble with Luke right now.

"I . . . I just wanted to talk to you." Was I blushing? He wasn't serious, was he? I mean, I'd like that – I think – but...

He sat down so close to me that his thigh was pressed up tight to my arm. And he wasn't wearing anything! Shit! What was I supposed to do now?

"What about?" He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Um . . . ."

"Get comfortable," Luke told me.

Was he kidding? He had to be. Okay then, I'd call his bluff. I laid my head down in his lap – my face away from his crotch. Even so, I had to 'casually' arrange my arm over my own crotch to hide . . . Well, you know. That close to his crotch, I could smell him: kind of a clean musk smell. I couldn't keep myself from taking a deep breath of it.

"So what was so important you couldn't wait until morning?" Luke asked. He continued to run his fingers through my hair.

I couldn't believe how good that felt. And I could feel his cock getting hard against the back of my head. Very hard to ignore. In fact I couldn't, but I pretended not to notice.

"My mom," I replied.

"What about her?"

"Well . . . her . . . drinking."

His hand paused for a moment, and I immediately missed it. But then it started up again.

"Is it because of your dad and brothers?" he asked. "She told me they were dead."

"Yeah. A car accident. I was playing with some friends and didn't want to go with them, or . . . ."

"How long ago?"

"About five years."

His hand slipped down to my shoulder and squeezed it. He left it there.

"She still hasn't got over it?" Luke asked.

I shook my head 'no', and felt his hard-on gently knock against the back of my head. I know I turned red.

"Was she a drinker before that?"

I paused, trying to remember. "I don't think so," I replied. "Maybe a little wine with supper, or a cocktail if we went out to eat."

"Okay, I can understand that. I think she probably needs some grief counseling, or something. But why was that so important it couldn't wait?"

"I . . . I just didn't want you to think I was like that, too."

Luke started running his fingers through my hair again. God, I could really get used to that.

I think he must have shrugged, 'cause his whole body jumped a little bit, causing his cock to hit me again.

"You haven't even tried drinking?" he asked.

Damn. He would have to ask that. It was my turn to try a little shrug. "Yeah. A little bit. Last year."

"Never got drunk?"

I know I was blushing, now. "A couple times. Got sick, too."

"So you didn't like it?"

Damnit. But I didn't want to lie to him. Not Luke. "Getting a buzz was okay, but getting drunk and getting sick was a real bummer."

"Hm . . . ."

I was tense, waiting to hear what he thought of that.

"How about drugs?" Luke asked.

I frowned a little. What was he getting at? But I answered anyway. "I tried pot once, but I'm scared about all that other stuff messing my brain up."

"Mm-hm. Good," Luke replied. "Some things are okay in small doses, like alcohol and even a little pot, if you know where it came from and it hasn't been tampered with; a lot of marijuana is laced with PCP and other drugs now, and that shit's not good. But it looks like you're a pretty smart kid, keeping away from the harder stuff."

Kid? Kid?

"I'm not a kid," I told him a little tensely. Jesus Christ on a crutch, if he started thinking of me like a kid, how the hell was I going to get him . . . me . . . . us...

His hand had started sliding down my back. "I know that," he said, just as his hand cupped my ass and gave it a squeeze.

I jumped, then I turned around, levering myself up as I did so. He helped me. He not only helped me, he pulled me into a kiss. It wasn't that long, but damn!

Cole looked a little dazed when I pulled away from the kiss I'd given him, but it was a dreamy kind of daze, and he was smiling. I gave a gentle pull, and he let himself fold up against me. It felt nice, having his head laying on my chest. My erection was pressing against his side, but he didn't give any indication of feeling it. Curious, I looked down. His cock was trying to bust right through those tight shorts of his.

With a little trepidation, I reached down and gently cupped his crotch. Cole raised his head a little and looked at me. His cheeks pinked up a little and he gave me a tiny, shy smile. He put his hand over mine, pressing my hand more firmly into his goods before he laid his head back down again. I gave him a little squeeze, then moved my hand to start feeling his hair again. It was so soft...

"Are these the only shorts you've got?" I asked, teasing him. I knew he had at least one pair of baggy shorts.

"No," he mumbled.

"Then why are these the only ones I see you in?"

He didn't answer me, and when I craned my head to try to look at him, all I could see was a part of his cheek, and it was blazing red.

"Let me guess," I said gleefully, "they're the only ones you've got that show off your bod?"

Cole shifted his head to try to hide his face against me.

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. But I had to admit that I liked looking at him more in these than in his baggy shorts. Something else was starting to make itself known, too; my bladder was finally starting to complain about being overly full.

"Maybe I can help you with that. But first, I have to piss like a racehorse."

"Me too," he mumbled against me.

He got off me, and I got up and started for the door.

"Uh, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Mom might be up," he said in a strange tone of voice.

I looked at him. He was blushing again. It only took me half a second to catch on to what he was referring to. Word. I was still naked. The thought of Cole's mom catching me like this . . . My face was burning.

"Ah, yeah! Thanks!" I said. I had gotten used to going naked at home, after I had it all to myself. Guess I was going to have to change my habits. I grabbed my bathrobe from the 'closet' (a piece of dowel hidden by curtains) and shrugged it on. I didn't think I had time to put anything else on.

Cole crowded into the bathroom with me, and we shared the toilet. I watched him piss, and I could see he was watching me, too.

"I need a shower," I said.

Cole replied, "Me too."

I kind of grinned at him. "Are you expecting to share that with me, too?"

"We've only had one date," he retorted. "Don't get fresh!"

I couldn't help laughing out loud. Cole grinned at me.

"You go first," he said.

"I have to get my things, first," I told him.

When I heard the shower go off, I knocked on the bathroom door.

"Yes?" I heard from inside.

"My turn?"

There was a slight hesitation, then, "Sure, if you don't mind me hanging around while I shave."

I had a momentary thought that we might be getting too . . . intimate? Something like that. Anyway, getting too familiar, too fast, but I shoved it aside, opened the door and stepped into the steamy room. Luke was drying himself off, and I couldn't help but take another look. Then I made myself look away, and took my shorts off. Everything else I'd need was already in there.

"You really are beautiful," Luke said.

I know I was blushing again. "Thanks," I replied wryly. "Wish I could say the same for you." It was a challenge, but damned if I know why I said it.

"Oh, you didn't," Luke said.

Next thing I knew, he'd attacked me, wrestled me to the floor, and started tickling me, with predictable results. I was very ticklish. I struggled and tried to fight him off, but I was laughing too hard to be very effective; and on some level, I didn't want to win. I had to try, though. But eventually my side started to hurt, I was out of breath, and getting a little tired. I surrendered.

By this time Luke was straddling me and had my hands pinned just above my head. I became aware that parts of ourselves were intimately touching: not completely soft, but not rock hard, either.

Luke was leaning his face down to mine. I knew what was coming, but I just watched him getting closer, until our lips met.

Ah. This was why I'd challenged him. I'd wanted him before, but now he'd . . . What? Beaten me? Proven himself stronger? And I realized that this was actually the second time he'd done it. And more, I figured out that I'd kind of dared him the first time, too. He'd issued the ultimatum, but I was the one who egged him on through inaction.

All I really knew was that I felt . . . more comfortable about giving up to him – safer. Shit. The feelings seemed so simple, so right, but explaining them is almost impossible! It was just that it felt like he'd . . . won me, somehow. If he wanted me, I wouldn't fight him. I might not have before, either, but now it felt like he'd earned the right, rather than me just . . . Damnit. My head is spinning, trying to explain this shit!

Anyway, we wound up getting each other off on the bathroom floor, and having a shower together afterward and washing each other. Damn, but I love the feeling of his hands on me.

We dried each other off, and then I sat on the sink counter and watched Luke shave. He didn't have a heavy beard. In fact I barely felt the stubble on his face earlier, it was so soft.

Something's changed between us. Most of the awkwardness of being 'new' seems to be gone. Can it happen that fast? It still felt a little strange to have Cole sitting naked on the counter and watching me shave, but I don't think I was anywhere near as self-conscious about it as I would have been yesterday. And Cole now seemed to be entirely comfortable being naked in front of me.

What really brought it home though was when – after getting all dressed and ready for the day – we went into the living room and told Claire that we'd be going to the mall for awhile. It was only when she took a 'meaningful' look between us that I realized we were standing 'way too close together. I blushed, but when she grinned at me I put an arm around Cole's shoulder for a quick, one-armed hug.

"Not in front of my mother!" was Cole's whispered protest as he pushed me off – which I'm sure his mother could hear quite clearly. He had a deep blush, too.

"Have you eaten yet?" Claire asked.

"I thought we'd grab something at the mall," I replied.

"Sit down, and I'll get you some toast and coffee. Do you drink coffee?" Claire asked. At my nod, she bustled into the kitchen.

I exchanged a look with Cole, shrugged, and we sat down. Although she hadn't asked, I was sure she'd be bringing something for Cole, too.

"Do you drink coffee?" I asked him.

"Once in awhile," he admitted, "if I've stayed up late studying and I can't wake up the next morning."

"How do you like it, Luke?" Claire called from the kitchen.

"White, one sugar, please," I called back to her.

At my questioning look, Cole said, "Usually black."

I shuddered. "Yuck. Too bitter, for me."

Cole laughed at me.

"Have you ever had it any other way?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Mom drinks it black, so that's what I do, too."

"You don't know what you're missing," I told him. "A little milk and sugar cuts the bitterness and really brings out the deeper nuances of it."

"Nuances?" he repeated, making fun of me.

I messed up his hair while he tried to fight me off, but we were both laughing.

Cole relaxed against me, and I put an arm over his shoulder.

When we heard his mom coming, we separated. She had put all three coffee mugs on a plastic tray, along with a small glass of milk and a sugar dispenser, and a plate of toast and Pop Tarts^®, then set it on the coffee table in front of the couch when she got there.

"I drink mine black," Claire said to me about the coffee, "so I thought I'd let you doctor your own."

Cole gave me a funny look, and copied the way I fixed my coffee. When his mother gave him a questioning look, he said, "Thought I'd try something different."

Claire gave a little 'oh, well' tilt of her head, and turned to me.

She tried to be casual about it, but the next half-hour or so was pretty awkward and uncomfortable as Claire kept asking me 'prospective mother-in-law' type questions, mixed in with her other conversation. She wasn't too bad at working them in without them appearing to come straight out nowhere, either. Once in awhile Cole would try to head off one of the questions, but most of the time he was blushing and/or laughing at me.

Copyright © 2006 by Shamyn Whitehawk