Authors: Liz Crowe
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Literature & Fiction, #Fiction, #Gay, #Romance, #Health; Fitness & Dieting, #Relationships, #Love & Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lgbt, #Gay Fiction
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” She let him hand her up into the truck, and shut the door. He climbed in behind the wheel. Gripped it, then turned to her. Her soft brown eyes were calm, questioning.
“I love you Lila. I need you to know that now. It does not mean I love Blake any less. But we, he and I, have admitted to ourselves how we really feel.”
She slid a hand up his thigh. He stopped her. “If you do that another second you can forget the expensive meal.” He growled. She lifted her chin.
“I love you too Rob. And Blake. And I’m starving….for more than food.”
“Good, me too.” He gunned the engine, pulled up to his house again and ushered her in. Once inside, she held him close, enveloping him with her amazing scent. Her lips tasted delicious, the newly familiar curves of her body were perfect under his hands. “But wait, I did promise dinner.” He led her to the dining room, lit two candles and revealed a perfect table set for two. He pulled her chair out, put the napkin in her lap and poured her a glass of wine. She sipped as he sautéed the scallops in butter, then added them to the bed of fresh spinach, sprinkled it with crumbled apple smoked bacon then set the plate in front of her. “Wait.” He insisted, pulling his chair next to her. “I want to feed you.” She blushed again.
He dredged a firm, white scallop in the golden butter and put it to her lips. She accepted it, sucking butter from his fingers. He kissed her neck after she swallowed, then did it again, and again until the food was gone. A bowl of fresh strawberries dipped in dark chocolate followed. She fed him some too, and they laughed about baby names, nursery colors, Maddie’s new obsession with wanting a bunny rabbit, just regular, domestic crap but he kept kissing her, running his lips down her neck, cupping one full breast then the other. Teasing, nipping, licking. Finally she stood, dragging him with her.
“Jesus Christ, Robert, take me on this table or something.” He grinned, shoved the dishes aside and pushed her back on the thick walnut surface, unzipped his cock and did just that. The exquisite tight velvet glove of her body tugged him toward a quick release. The pulsing spasm of her lightning fast orgasm sent him over the edge. “Rob, look at me.” She gasped at the last minute. “Look me in the eye.” He did, and his vision got fuzzy as his eyes filled with tears that dripped onto the perfect silk of her dress as he groaned and came, deep inside her body.
Lila lay awake, draped across Rob’s torso, listening to the soft snores of his sleep. Blake was right about one thing. The man could sleep through a tornado. She sighed, feeling more content than she had in her entire life. If only…she ran a hand across his lean abs. They’d laughed at themselves, still mostly dressed, boinking like rabbits on the dining room table. After cleaning up the mess of spilled food and wine they’d stood and stared at each other. “How did I get so lucky?” she whispered, sliding into his arms, taking long breaths of him.
He kissed her hair, tilted her face up to his, slanted his lips over hers with a tenderness that turned her on nearly as much as the rough play he usually preferred. Keeping their lips together he picked up her and carried her into the bedroom, unzipped the dress and let it puddle around her feet, then proceeded to kiss each and every inch of her flesh, ending with her writhing on the bed, legs draped over his shoulder, his lips and fingers bringing her to climax after climax, leaving her drained and quivering.
He’d stood, hand on his long elegant shaft, eyeing her. She smiled, reached up and tugged him down onto his back, then climbed on top, taking him inside her with a quick shift of her body, gasping at how deep he went at that angle. He’d gripped her hips, dug his fingers in as she rode him slowly at first, loving the delicious friction against her clit, then increasing the rhythm, sensing him near his release. He yanked her down to his lips. “I’m gonna come. Oh Jesus,” he groaned, kissing her. She felt him stiffen inside her then release, the warmth of his seed filling her deep as her body pulsed in response and their bodies completed the ancient dance of attraction, fulfilling their shared purpose.
She sighed, and listened to him sleep for at least an hour, unable to settle, and praying to everything she knew that new life had started inside her already. She kissed his shoulder, and tasted the salt of her own tears, realizing this weekend for what it was before drifting off in a troubled, restless sleep, jerking awake when she heard him. He sat on the side of the bed, his broad shoulders shaking and heaving in a horrible coughing fit. He stood, held up a hand, tried to get control of himself. She ran to the kitchen for water, held it to his lips as he sputtered and tried to catch his breath. Then held him close, rocking back and forth as he settled back into sleep after taking some medicine he’d told her to grab from the cabinet. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, running his hand up and down her bare arm.
“You have no reason to be sorry. Now sleep.” She kissed his soft golden hair and tried not to cry.
Chapter Five
Eight weeks later - Lake Michigan
Rob stumbled to the bathroom, held himself up against the wall as he emptied his bladder, coughs rattling through his aching chest. Blake followed him, bleary eyed, and worried looking. “You don’t have to follow me all over the damn house.” He muttered, shoving past him on his way to the kitchen for water and a pill.
“Sorry.” Blake flopped back on the bed, cradled Lila from behind and fell instantly asleep. Rob watched them a minute and tried like hell not to be so angry. This was how it would be; he knew it. Blake would have Lila, Lila would have the baby she wanted so damn badly, and he…he’d be fucking dead. He lurched out into the living room, needing something to break. He couldn’t draw a decent breath anymore, had to take medication to ward off pneumonia daily, and he was pissed beyond belief. Now, that his life was finally on track.
Now
the motherfucking, goddamned, cock-sucking cancer librarian came back, and she was calling his book due.
“We’ve isolated the cancer Rob. We can keep it inside your lungs. That seems to be working. But it keeps taking up more space. I’ve put your name as a priority on the donor list. I’d take one but would prefer both, if possible. In the meantime…you should prepare yourself…” The words echoed around his head, making him utterly insane.
But today was a day he simply would not ruin. No. This day was Jack Gordon’s wedding day. He was determined not to fuck it up with his bullshit disease. Blake wandered into the lake house living room, made coffee, found some fruit and poured it over yogurt. “Hungry?” he asked. Rob shook his head. He had zero appetite anymore. The gross metallic feeling in his mouth precluded that. Sara’s dress lay across the couch, a light, floaty, white sundress style. Blake’s parents were at their lake house about a mile away. The ceremony was taking place on the stretch of beach in front of Blake and Rob’s house, near sunset.
Sara’s one-time boyfriend Craig, now a doctor, had come with Suzanne, with whom he had struck up an easy, go-slow relationship. They were in a rental a little further down the beach. Jack, Evan and Julie were at a hotel where Jack and Sara would stay the night. They were heading to St. Bart's on Monday for two weeks of honeymoon. Katie would stay with her grandparents on the lake. Rob sighed, and touched the nearly effervescent fabric of the dress.
Blake put a hand on his shoulder, kissed his cheek. “Big day. One I never thought I’d see.” Rob nodded, looking up when Lila appeared at the doorway holding something that looked like a Popsicle stick. Her full lips were grinning, her dark eyes glistening. He smiled back. “What’s that?” he accepted the cup of coffee Blake handed him.
“Oh nothing,” she kept her voice light as she padded over to them. She took the coffee cup just he was about to take the first sip.
“Hey.” He muttered, still half pissed off. She slid into his lap, arms around his neck, lips to his ear. She reached up to grip Blake’s hand, bring him around to the front of the saggy, beach house quality couch. She put his and Rob’s hands on her flat stomach.
“We are pregnant.” Rob sucked in a breath. Blake smiled. They kissed each other, and then took turns kissing her.
****
Blake blinked into the bright, but fading sunlight. The wedding planner was worth his fee. It seemed as the whole thing had come off without a hitch. His sister looked glorious and deliriously happy for the first time in her life. Her new husband, the guy Blake had made a point to hate for a good long time before admitting that the two of them were perfect together seemed a little dazed. But every time he looked at Sara, his gaze sharpened in way that satisfied Blake completely. The men all wore khaki’s rolled up out of the sand, soft white cotton shirts. The only thing that distinguished Jack from the wedding party was a small red rose pinned to his pocket.
Sara’s dress was perfect, made her glow like an angel as she made her way down the many steps from the house to the beach as the harp and violins perched on the second level deck played Mozart and Pachelbel. Julie, Lila and Val, her wedding party stood on one side of the minister, Jack, Rob, Evan and Blake on the other. Blake and Sara’s parents stood nearby, their mother wiping her eyes, their father alternatively evil-eyeing Jack or staring glowingly at his daughter. Katie and Maddie walked ahead of Sara, dropping flower petals on the sand.
The ceremony itself was simple: The necessary words, music and an exchange of equally unaffected rings, a surprise since Jack was known for showing off how much he could spend on shit like that. But Sara had insisted, and so they wore matching bands of pure platinum, etched with a date that had significance to no one but the two of them. The weather cooperated, the catering was perfect, and the eighty or so friends who’d been invited all showed and shared the day. Photos were relaxed and fun; none of the stiff “wedding party” style they wanted to avoid. After posing Blake, Rob, and Lila together, Suzanne, Craig and Katie, and the usual bride/groom and daughter and the requisite parental shots the photographer grabbed a beer and took a break. Rob had nodded at the guy, pointed over his shoulder. Jack and Sara stood, silhouetted nearly perfectly against the setting sun, arms around each other waists, foreheads together. The photographer had snuck up and caught that perfect moment.
Blake collapsed into a lounge chair clutching a beer, mind still reeling from the day. As he watched Rob get food for Lila and settle her into a nearby chair it occurred to him they hadn’t told anyone yet. He smiled, feeling but sheer happiness flooding through him at the sight of Rob giving Lila bites of his food.
Sara flopped into the chair next to him. Jack handed her a glass of lemonade, put a hand to her face and kissed her, before moving into the small crowd to greet more guests.
“Tee totaling it sister, dear?” Blake asked. She smiled at him, motioned Lila over to sit next to her. Rob moved a couple of chairs over so they could sit together.
“Well?” She looked at Lila, who blushed. Rob looked at Blake and then shrugged.
“We,” Lila took Sara’s hand, “are pregnant.” Blake spit out his beer and sat up. Rob laughed and clapped him on the back a couple of times.
“Excellent.” He declared, rising to his feet and lifting his own glass of lemonade. “To fertility.” He shouted, as Jack joined them, pulling Sara to her feet and planting an embarrassingly enthusiastic kiss on her in front of everyone.
“Get a room, kids,” Rob ordered, before sitting back down, out of breath. Jack stared into Blake’s sister’s eyes a good long time. Blake pulled Lila down onto the lounge with him, let her lay back against him as he put a hand on her stomach, kissing her shoulder.
****
“So,” Jack wandered out onto the lower deck after the last guest had made their way to rental houses or hotel rooms. There was a large breakfast planned in the morning at one of the nearby resorts and a golf outing after, but people had lingered, enjoying the perfect July night, the bonfires Blake had laid out, the remainder of the food and drinks. “Daddy eh?” He handed Rob a glass full of bourbon. Rob took it, still staring out over the darkening Lake Michigan.
“Apparently. Hopefully I’ll be around for…” Jack jerked him to his feet, gripped his arm, and nearly made him spill the expensive brown liquor onto the wooden floor.
“Cut that shit out, right fucking now Frietag. I mean it.” Jack’s face was near his. Rob frowned, tried to wrestle out of the other man’s grasp. “You have life by the throat. Remember?” They stood, staring at each other a minute.
Then Jack’s face crumpled. It was a moment Rob would never forget. Soft music trickled down from the upper house, girlish laughter, adult conversation, the sounds of life made his chest clench even tighter. His friend slumped into a chair. “Ah shit. I’m sorry.” Rob stood, frozen in a sudden wash of panic.
He didn’t know how to die. How did one do that anyway? What did you say to people?
The long slow slog up the cancer hill and he’d reached the top, it seemed. Lung transplants were rare, because it required someone else to die and for that dead person to somehow be a perfect match.
He tried to breathe, remembered his capacity was diminished then decided to get drunk instead, downing the burning hot bourbon in two gulps and handing it back to Jack. “Bring the bottle down.” Jack nodded and bounded up the stairs, returning with the Woodford Reserve in minutes. “Go. Have your wedding night. god damn you.” He muttered into his second glass.
“Oh hell, Sara claims she wants to stay here, so I guess I get to spend my wedding night on your shitty ass couch my friend.” Rob scoffed at him. “I know, pussy whipped, that’s me. And happy to be so.” He raised his glass, Rob touched his to it. “To us. All our years before. And many years ahead.” Jack’s strong jaw clench.
Rob sighed. He hated reducing perfectly strong people to weeping ragdolls. “To you my friend. And your happiness.” After another strong pour his head swam. He leaned forward, put his hand on Jack’s leg. “When I do go, I want a party, right fucking here.” He pointed to the sand at their feet. “No more tears than are necessary. Lots of booze, food, loud music, all of it. Promise me.”