Bowling for Turkeys

The Mechanics of a Real Boy

“SO,” RICK said the next day as they sat at a place with picnic tables and a twelve-foot skeleton wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pilgrim’s hat, looking like a macabre master of ceremonies, in the corner of the patio, “That’s a no on the date, but a yes on Thanksgiving?”

Angela was in the bathroom, and the rest of their team was still on its way. Milo, Julia, and Rick had been seated first. Julia had been given a small handful of dog treats by their waiter and was busy chomping away and eyeing the rest of the patrons of the restaurant with deep suspicion.

Milo nodded, studying the menu. “Exactly,” he said, fighting the heat in his cheeks. Rick’s suggestion that they go out sometime as more than friends had taken him by surprise. For one thing, his functioning gaydar had always been glitchy—he could have sworn Rick was straight. “I’m sort of seeing somebody.” Oooh… he liked that. “Seeing somebody” sounded so grown up! Stuart had come over for a date and then started to move his stuff in because he’d assumed Milo wasn’t going to say no. Why would he? He had no other prospects, and he didn’t have a roommate—and that was almost verbatim. Compared to Garth, Stuart was such a child!

“Sort of?” Rick asked, sounding skeptical but not derisive. “As in, I’ve still got a chance?”

Milo glanced up from the menu—he was getting the pork-belly bao anyway—and shook his head. “No,” he said. “As in this is a super-amazing guy, but he’s letting me go slow. I just got out of a crappy relationship, remember?”

Rick’s skepticism went up a notch. “ Letting you go slow? Are you sure that’s not code for ‘seeing someone else on the side’?”

Milo remembered the night before, Garth’s arms around his shoulders tenderly, the rather panicked note in his voice as he’d asked if he could invite friends to Thanksgiving, the sober grace with which he’d presented Mariana with flowers as he’d come into the kitchen. It suddenly occurred to him, in a wonderful, amazing way, that Milo trusted Garth’s emotional reactions. Stuart used to say things like, “You should know I love you—don’t be stupid!” right after he’d said something really cruel. Garth’s reactions to the people around him were real. When he smiled or laughed, it was because he was responding to somebody, not because he thought he was better than they were. Garth was real, and people who were real didn’t need to lie.

“He’s a good guy,” Milo said seriously, making sure he was looking Rick in the eye. It was important Rick knew that he’d been seen and heard. Milo knew that because he hadn’t been a lot, and he knew it hurt. “I mean, a really good guy. The best. I don’t think I could trust anybody else right now.”

Rick grunted and sighed. “My fault,” he said with a shrug that masked a little bit of hurt—but the kind Rick could recover from. “I should have asked you out when you first started with the company. You hadn’t met Stuart then. I might have had a chance.”

Milo laughed a little. “I’m sort of mad you didn’t,” he said, glad when Rick smiled. “’Cause I think we could have been friends after a breakup, and I might have been able to avoid Stuart.”

That made Rick laugh outright. “What made you go out with him anyway?”

Milo shook his head. “I don’t know. He was a client, remember?” Milo had almost forgotten. “He was just… persistent. And then….” Milo didn’t want to talk about their first time in bed. Stuart had been plying him with alcohol all night. God, he’d even taken Milo out to a club , which had filled Milo with as much horror back then as it did now, and that was saying something. But he and Mari had been determined to go out and date after their college debacles, and Milo had kept thinking, At least he wants me .

“Then what?” Rick asked, almost gently.

“Then he sort of moved in. Assumed I didn’t have a life, or friends. I was pretending I wasn’t talking to my bestie anymore, because he hated her. We’d just reorganized at work, so we only went into the office once a week and… and suddenly he was my whole life. And….” Oh, this was weird to admit. “And I believed him. How twisted is that? I knew better, but I believed him.”

“Oh,” Rick said, nodding like this made sense to him, and as much as Milo preferred Garth’s happy, easygoing company, he could suddenly see that Rick would have been a perfectly acceptable interim boyfriend who might not have tried to compromise Milo’s entire sense of identity. “So when he left…?”

“I believed there was nothing left,” Milo said, almost in wonder as he remembered that day nearly two months ago when he’d woken up to a pounding on his door and the realization that he smelled worse than a cat box. “And then Mari brought me Julia.” And suddenly his day had been about walking his dog and how not to chase turkeys and how to keep Julia from trying to eat Chad. And about Garth. And about taking Julia to work, and how his coworkers really cared for him, and how even a weirdly sized Chihuahua/pit bull-looking creature could hurt people, and how Milo wanted to be better than his dog but needed to learn to people. And about Garth. And about Mari, and what Stuart had done to dick with Mari’s sister’s situation, and about cameras in his house, and how Stuart was a douche. And how Garth would work patiently to fix the situation and never, ever pressure Milo to think he was alone in the world without Garth.

“So Julia changed your life?” Rick asked, smiling.

Milo nodded. “And so did Garth,” he added, feeling like that was important.

“And so did you,” Rick said, eyeballing him up and down.

Milo blinked owlishly and remembered he’d worn jeans that fit today, and that he’d thrown out his “peanut butter” clothes, and that Mari had gone internet shopping and sent him a bunch of shirts and stylish zip-up hoodies and other “casual office” clothes that looked neither like a Sears catalogue from the 80s nor like he’d been vomited out of a stoner’s college dorm.

Well, the clothes were nice, and Milo was grateful, but he was pretty sure they weren’t the reason he felt this general sense of well-being as opposed to generalized anxiety, depression, and isolation.

“But mostly Julia and Garth,” he said with certainty.

“But I’m still coming to Thanksgiving?” Rick asked.

“Oh yes.” Milo smiled at him, grateful for the important conversation without any rejection drama. God bless people who could take “no” for “I’m sorry you’re not that particular person” and not a complete takedown of their entire identity. Milo had never put himself out there with that level of aplomb—he could only respect people like Rick who did. “It’s good to have friends.”

Rick grinned. “Absolutely. And I understand there will be dogs there, so I get friends with dogs, and that is a bonus .”

Milo grinned back. “And you’ll get to meet Mari. She’s got eight cats.”

Rick gasped in delight, and by the time Angela and the rest of the group sat down, they were ankle deep in cat stories, because who didn’t love a furry little love-bomb with claws and a superiority complex?

Nobody Milo wanted to know, he decided, and he and his work friends bonded over creatures large and small and some very powerful drinks that Milo could not possibly finish but enjoyed tasting anyway.

“SO YOU had a good time,” Garth said over the phone as Milo stretched out on his couch and threw the squeaky for Julia.

“It was great,” Milo assured him. “And then Rick drove me home in my car, and Angela took him back to his car.”

Garth chuckled. “Enjoying a little buzz, are we?”

“This is great ,” Milo told him earnestly. “In college, there was only one way to drink. Do you remember that?”

“No,” Garth said, “because it usually ended in vomit.”

“Exactly !” Oh, Milo loved it when Garth understood him and didn’t judge. “But this made me only a little bit wobbly, and now I’m all floaty, but I’m still okay.”

Garth chuckled. “You sound totally okay.”

“Stuart didn’t like it when I drank,” Milo told him seriously. “Not after the first time he got me drunk to have sex. I wasn’t allowed to buy beer or drink wine, which was too bad, because Mari and I have this recipe for corned beef in beer that is outstanding , but Stuart thought it was too expensive.” Milo belched and then sat up on the couch because he was suddenly tired. “When can I stop talking about him?” he asked, feeling the melancholy drunk part of the evening settle in.

“When you have memories that aren’t him,” Garth said softly.

“I’m working on it. I want it to happen now . Because every memory I have reminds me that I was stupid to let him move in, foolish to let him be in my bed, and a gutless insecure weenie to cry when he left. Every bad memory about Stuart is a bad memory about me , and I’m so over remembering bad things about me.”

“Mmm….” Garth said softly. “It takes a whole lot of good memories to overwrite our software, Milo. I don’t know what to tell you. Want to hear a good memory I have about you?”

“Yes,” Milo said, suddenly shameless.

“I kissed you a month ago, in my house, and you looked at me with such wide eyes, I felt like all the crappy encounters, all the times I played seducer and walked into a stranger’s house and did the sex thing, all of those were leading up to a time when I could kiss a guy I truly liked and he’d look at me like I wasn’t a sleazeball. How’s that?”

“Oh!” Milo said, his heart aching in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “You’re such a good guy, Garth. You can’t think bad things about yourself because of shit that happened when you didn’t know the consequences. We all bowl for turkeys sometimes, right? Like Julia?”

“That’s right,” Garth said, his voice wrapping over Milo’s aching heart like a warm weighted blanket. “And you were learning that you were stronger than you knew. That you didn’t need someone who made you feel small. Good lessons, Milo. Think of it this way. Every bad memory about Stuart is a reason why you won’t have another bad memory about Stuart. You know better now, just like I know better not to pretend real life is porn, and Julia is learning not to chase turkeys.”

Milo grunted, sagging against the couch, his eyes half closed. “She’d still chase them if we let her,” he confessed.

“Yeah, but analogies break down,” Garth said. “She’s a dog. Her self-awareness is limited to the squeaky and the crate. You’re a person. You get to dream bigger.”

“I want to sleep in your arms,” Milo murmured, giving it up and turning on his side on his couch, facing the back. “And I want to have sex that doesn’t hurt and doesn’t make me feel dumb and worthless. And I think you’ll be able to give me that. See? I want the squeaky, not the crate. I’m really just as dumb as my dog.”

“Nope,” Garth said kindly. “But you are going to be a lot more hungover if you didn’t take some ibuprofen and drink some water. Did you?”

Milo grunted. “Would you believe Rick and Angela made me? I told them nobody was allowed to boss me around like that besides Mari, and they said they would call Mari and get permission if I didn’t do what they said.”

Garth’s rumble of laughter echoed in his ear. “I love how you’re opening yourself up to more people who can boss you around, Milo.”

“It’s the same reason I don’t let Julia chase turkeys and you don’t let Chad eat her for being a giant pita,” Milo confessed. “It’s ’cause they care about me. Isn’t that funny? I thought Mari and Stuart were the only ones who cared about me, but Stuart left, and it turns out I’m actually sort of lovable.”

That rumble got louder. “You are,” Garth told him. “You’re very lovable. And when you’re sober, I’d love to boss you around and hold you in my arms all night.”

“This weekend,” Milo told him. “Next week is Thanksgiving, and I think a good weekend with you would be something to be thankful for.”

Was it his imagination, or had Garth’s breath caught? “Me too. I’ll do my best.”

“Everything you do is your best,” Milo proclaimed as Julia hopped up on the couch and wriggled between the couch’s back and Milo’s front, licking his nose a little because he’d obviously forgotten the squeaky game. “It’s all really good. Going to sleep now. Call you tomorrow so we can make plans for sex and Milo can become a real boy.”

Milo didn’t bother to end the call, so as he fell asleep, he heard Garth murmur, “You are a real boy, Milo. And you’re as lovable as fuck.”

LATE FRIDAY afternoon, as the early November sunset chilled the air to a crisp, Milo packed a sleepover bag for himself and one for Julia and was just about to load her crate into his little car when he got a text.

I got her a crate and bed for my house. You can leave that at home.

Milo—who had been entertaining thoughts about stomach butterflies—was suddenly much calmer about the next two days.

Should I worry about dinner?

No, because it’s my turn to cook.

Did you really buy a crate? He had to ask. It was… it was practically a courting gift.

Yes. I don’t want her to… misinterpret our activities.

Milo frowned. Misinterpret?

Milo, sex looks like fighting when you’re a dog.

Milo glanced at his phone and smirked and then had a sudden thought. Will there ever be a time when sex isn’t funny?

Dear God, I hope not. If you can’t laugh at poking your thing in another thing and making that the be-all and end-all of your existence, you’re poking your thing in the wrong places.

Milo smirked again and was about to reply, although he wasn’t sure what he had that topped that , when his screen flashed again.

Stop stalling, Milo, and get your thing over here. I promise, whether there are things in places or we just go to bed holding each other, it’s all going to be fine.

Milo gazed fondly at his phone and at the carefree selfie Garth had taken when he’d grabbed Milo’s phone. It was out of focus and out of frame, and Milo thought Garth deserved better than that. I need another picture of you , he texted out of the blue. So I can look at your face when you say these things.

Okay, but after this, get moving.

Less than a minute later, the picture appeared: Garth’s long, even features, the grooves next to his mouth from smiling, and the crinkles at his eyes from smiling in the sun.

Motivation , he texted back, and added the picture to Garth’s number, then, upon consideration, made it his second screen saver—after Julia, because he figured Garth would understand. Then he tucked the phone in his pocket and got a move on.

BESIDES SETTING his knapsack down in the foyer next to Julia’s plasticware bucket of food and bag of toys, arriving at Garth’s was, well, perfectly normal. Although his temporary residence had been more about making sure Stuart wouldn’t freak out when the cameras had been removed, Milo was pleasantly surprised to realize that Garth had given Milo freedom here. He’d worked at the kitchen table and cooked in Garth’s kitchen, and while he wouldn’t be sleeping in the guest room tonight, Milo belonged here.

So Milo took off his shoes and moved into the kitchen where Garth was draining some pulled pork into a bowl.

“What’s for dinner?” Milo asked, checking out the various bowls in wonder. Tomatoes, onions, cilantro, lettuce, grated cheese, salsa, and what appeared to be a sour cream sauce, as well as the pulled pork, which smelled like cilantro and lime, all of it in separate bowls lined up on the kitchen counter, with a plate stacked with tortillas at the end.

“Make your own taco,” Garth said, then gave Milo a sly glance. “The no-beans edition.”

Milo snickered into his hand and tried to recover himself. “Look at me!” he complained good-naturedly. “I was a decently functioning adult, and now you came along and—”

Garth, who had set the bowl down and wiped his hands off on a towel, turned suddenly and captured Milo’s mouth with his own. He placed one hand on Milo’s hip, holding him but not pinning him, and used the other hand, smelling faintly of fresh vegetables and lime, to hold Milo’s chin while he plundered Milo’s mouth.

Milo moaned and opened, sliding his hands around Garth’s waist and pressing them tighter. Oh wow! They were here . He hadn’t realized it, but… but they were here . Where he could walk into this man’s house and smile at him and get kissed by him and his body welcomed the touch. There was no fear here. He didn’t think about pain or bothering Garth with his neediness or Garth kissing him only to find some way to humiliate him.

Garth had only ever touched him kindly, and Milo understood that would continue. He understood that in his bones .

Garth pulled back in surprise. “Milo, are you crying?”

Milo buried his face against Garth’s shirt and snuggled. “I just really like street tacos,” he said, hiccupping a little.

“And kisses?” Garth asked, nuzzling his temple.

“Especially with kisses,” Milo agreed, and while Julia and Chad gave each other the side-eye as though they hadn’t seen each other in a week instead of since the morning before at the park, Milo found peace in Garth’s arms in front of the taco bar.

THEY DISCUSSED dinner over dinner, and both things were fun. The DIY tacos were delicious—the chivey, limey yogurt sauce was sort of the piece d’ resistance—and they were also fun to make and fun to eat. It was hard to stay nervous when you were trying to keep your taco from dribbling all over your new henley, and they both laughed a lot as they mopped up.

And the discussion of Thanksgiving was awesome because Milo had researched turkey recipes, and Garth was planning to bring potatoes au gratin, and Mari and Georgie were doing salad and brussels sprouts and tofu. Add to that Michael’s pies and Misty’s plea to be the one to make the dressing, and Milo suddenly saw his little duplex as being filled to the gills with good smells and happy people.

“What’s Rick bringing?” Garth asked.

“Angela and her wife,” Milo told him, sounding baffled. “And they’re all bringing sodas, beers, waters, and a shit-ton of potato chips.” He smiled dreamily. “With onion dip. I love onion dip. I made it a deal-breaker.”

“Wow,” Garth said, sounding impressed. “This is gonna be some shindig.”

“I know!” Milo said, surprised. “I actually talked to my tenant this morning to warn him, and… well, he’s an older man, in his seventies, and he said he had an empty house, and he looked a little lonely, so, well….”

“So Jerry’s coming too?” Garth asked, laughing.

“Yeah.” Milo remembered the man’s wistful reference to his wife who’d passed, and how he would be happy to hear the dogs in the backyard even if he couldn’t see them. “In fact….” Milo grimaced. “I sort of volunteered you for something, and it may be something you’d have to undo, but I’d pay you for your time and everything, but—”

“Milo, it’s fine. What do you need?”

“Well, Jerry said if I wanted to take away the divider between my backyard and his, he’d be okay with it as long as we kept it clean. And since Misty wants to bring the dogs, and Chad’s coming too, that might be a thing we could do. If it didn’t work over Thanksgiving weekend, we could put the fence back in place, but if you could—”

“Of course,” Garth said. “That will be a much better space without the fence, and there’s enough of us to go in back and police the area. In fact I can get you some inexpensive lawn furniture so a couple people can go out and sit if they need to. We can add some old blankets to keep warm if there’s a cold snap, but you know how big crowds get—it’s always too hot and too noisy inside for some people, and we can put the pickup equipment by the pipe where you put the droppings.” Garth had installed one of those while Milo had been staying at his house, and Milo liked the system of putting the waste in a small septic tank and dropping in enzymes to turn it into dirt a lot more than throwing it in a plastic bag and chucking that in the trash.

“Yes!” Milo said happily. “That would work. Some chairs, a table, maybe one of those outdoor heaters—there’s an outlet on the outside wall right before the backyard.”

“We could rent a propane one,” Garth said, “but I don’t think it will be that cold next week. Let me ask Misty. She used to have outdoor parties in her yard, and I bet she has one you can borrow.”

Milo bit his lip. “Do you think she’d mind if we—”

Garth shook his head. “Can’t hurt to ask,” he said. He pulled out his phone and set up a Notes page. “Let me get this down. I forget stuff if I don’t put it in a list.”

Milo blinked at him. “So do I,” he admitted, cheeks pinkening. “I’m always too embarrassed to take notes in front of other people.”

Garth cocked his head. “Why?”

Milo stared at his taco. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I think my mom sort of expected me to be perfect.” It had felt that way, he realized. “Either perfect or invisible.”

Garth nodded. “Did you want to invite her?” he asked, and Milo shook his head so hard he felt his ears wobble.

“No,” he said, giving Garth a half-panicked look. “I-I don’t want them near my house. They’d be as bad as Stuart!” His mother had been all frosty silences and his stepdad sardonic remarks. “They haven’t called me since Stuart called them and told them I was abusing my trust. Once they found out it was a… a domestic dispute, they told me they were going out of the country until next year.”

“Oh, Milo,” Garth said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“What about your parents,” Milo asked, feeling his deficiencies as a son and a person all over again.

“Well, I told them I met somebody really amazing,” Garth said. “And I wanted to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with him, so I wouldn’t be down this year. And since they’re going on a cruise for Christmas anyway, that’s fine, and I expect to be spammed by pictures. It’ll be adorable.”

Milo stared at him, suddenly violently aware of how much Garth had given him since they’d met. “You… you had somewhere else to go?” he asked. “And… and you chose me ?”

Garth gave him a crooked smile. “Well, you know. I figure next year maybe you’ll come down south to meet them. Is that okay with you?” His ears turned pink, and he appeared super interested in sopping up the rest of the yummy topping from his taco.

Milo swallowed and reached over to take his hand—the one not playing with his food. “I want to dream of that,” he said softly. “I want to dream that this thing, you and me, it will stretch long, and it will get stronger, and next year I can take a trip to San Diego with you, and we can see what Julia does on the beach.”

Garth glanced up from his taco leftovers and smiled. “She’ll attack the waves, Milo. It’ll be epic.”

Milo grinned. “I… in a year so much could change. But maybe you and I could change to be even better.”

Garth turned his hand over, palm up, and let Milo lace their fingers together. “Want to help me with dinner dishes?” he asked.

Milo bit his lip and nodded. “And then a movie on the couch?”

Garth nodded.

“And then kissing on the couch?” Milo asked, to make sure.

Garth nodded some more.

“And then sex ….” He wrinkled his nose.

“In the bedroom, Milo. We’re grown men. We don’t have to have sex on the couch.”

“Fan tastic !” Milo crowed. “I like a good detail check.”

“Well, good. Before we clean up, let’s have one for Thanksgiving, and then we can spend tomorrow getting it all set up. How’s that?”

That, too, was just fine.

AND THAT month of living here, of getting to know Garth, of becoming comfortable in this home—it turned out to be a wonderful thing. It let Milo snuggle on the couch next to Garth’s long body, and the night, which promised to be so momentous in some ways, was quite ordinary in others and progressed happily.

By the time the first movie was over, Milo had his hand under Garth’s shirt and was rubbing his stomach, and then his chest. Garth had rucked up Milo’s shirt and was dragging his fingertips along the small of Milo’s back.

And Milo, who knew that tonight he wouldn’t be stopping in the hall, wasn’t worried. This man had put off his holiday for Milo . He was making plans for them together . And not once, in any of their conversations, had Garth made Milo feel like he wasn’t important, or was invisible, or like his opinion didn’t count.

Milo’s opinion counted . And his comfort counted . And Milo, who used to anticipate sex like he anticipated getting his teeth cleaned—mildly unpleasant but necessary—was suddenly looking forward to being naked with the man on the couch who owned the big dog. Although the dog would not be naked with them at this time.

The movie ended, and Garth wielded the remote, switched the TV off, and then straightened up enough to catch Milo’s mouth in a warm kiss.

Milo closed his eyes and fell into the kiss like he was falling into a lovely warm bath, and then….

Then he caught fire.

Garth deepened the kiss, and Milo whimpered, needing beyond comfort, needing touch , and Garth obliged. His hands were sure and steady—and on Milo’s skin . Under his shirt, along his neck, probing the waistband of his jeans. Milo tried to wrestle his shirt off, sitting half on and half off the couch, and Garth backed away as Milo’s hands flailed above his head.

“Easy there,” Garth ordered, chuckling. He took the cuffs of Milo’s new shirt and tugged, helping Milo get untangled and half naked, his chest fluttering in and out like a trapped bird’s.

And then he realized that Garth could see him. They were in the living room , and the lights were still on, and he grabbed his shirt with an embarrassing little “Meep!” and held it to his chest.

Garth smiled grimly and tugged on the shirt. “You’re beautiful, Milo,” he murmured, moving closer. Gently, he traced his lips down Milo’s shoulder, down the side of his arm.

Milo caught his breath and dropped the shirt, tangling one hand in Garth’s thick hair instead. Garth changed the trajectory of his kisses and wound up on Milo’s chest, bearing Milo back against the couch cushions while Garth explored. Milo still felt pale and skinny and un-amazing, but Garth seemed to savor each taste of his skin like wine.

Then Garth’s lips found Milo’s nipple, and savoring and embarrassment went right out the window.

“Ah!” Milo gasped, arching up into Garth’s mouth. “What is that? What are you doing? Why does that feel so good? Oh my God—don’t stop. Don’t do that. Keep doing that! Oh… oh wow !”

Garth’s gentle laughter probably should have killed him with mortification, but he was too overwhelmed, too aroused by the feel of Garth’s mouth on his nipples.

“What in the world is that?” he demanded, pushing himself up on his elbows, damned near pointing at the tightly pebbled little bundle of flesh and nerves and whining, “Why does that feel so good? How is that even possible ?”

Garth pushed himself up off the couch and reached a hand down to Milo to help him up. “It feels good because it’s an erogenous zone, Milo,” he said patiently as Milo stood right in the circle of his arms. “And if you help me turn off the lights and put Julia in her crate, maybe we can get to the bedroom and you can see how much I like having the same thing done to me .”

Milo knew his mouth had fallen open, but he didn’t care. “You do ?” he asked.

Garth shook his head. “Listen, remember what we said about how everything Stuart said was a lie?”

Milo nodded. Words of wisdom. He lived by them now.

“Everything you learned about sex from Stuart was wrong. Dead wrong. Forget it all now.” Garth smiled then, a supremely masculine, gloating sort of smile that would have made Milo blush, but he was already blushing all over. “By the time this night is over, your body won’t even remember his name.”

Milo grabbed Garth’s hand and hauled him through the house, both of them turning off lights as they went.

WHEN THEY got to the bedroom, Garth glared at Julia, who had followed them into the room, and said, “Crate.”

Julia paused and gave Milo the side-eye, but he nodded and said the same thing. With a sigh, she flounced into her crate, flopped to her side, and glowered at them balefully as Garth closed the latch.

Chad’s big pillow was on the other side of the room, and the giant animal followed suit, lapsing into a happy snore as Garth dimmed the lights.

“Low,” he said softly. “Not off. I want to see you.”

Milo bit his lip. “I would rather see than be seen,” he said frankly, “but I don’t know how that would work.”

Garth chuckled as he moved closer, his big rough palms cupping the pale skin of Milo’s upper arms. “Milo, I enjoy you so much with our clothes on, why wouldn’t I enjoy you with them off?”

Milo swallowed. “Skinny,” he said, glancing down at himself. “Pale. Underdeveloped. Oh….”

Garth was running his lips along Milo’s neck now, and then to his skinny, pale, underdeveloped chest.

“Delicious,” Garth murmured before brushing up against Milo’s apparently hypersensitive nipples.

Milo shivered and threaded his fingers through Garth’s hair. “Wow,” he whispered, and Garth grinned at him, his head level with Milo’s stomach.

“Can I get you to sit down here,” he murmured, straightening enough to guide Milo backward before pulling the covers down on one side of the bed to give him a place.

“Sure.” Milo knew the drill. Without waiting for permission, he shoved his pants down and awkwardly toed off his socks, very conscious of Garth waiting patiently, an indulgent expression on his face. “What?” he said, glancing up, finally completely naked.

Garth lowered himself to his knees before Milo, rubbing his cheek on Milo’s bare thighs. He didn’t stare at Milo’s groin or strip himself, he just… touched, palmed Milo’s thighs, spanned his ribs, took in the lot of his body with tanned fingers, rough from outside work and unabashedly gentle on Milo’s skin.

“Someday,” he said softly, “you are going to let me unwrap you like the gift you are.”

Milo heard his own swallow, and his eyes unexpectedly burned. “You say the nicest things,” he croaked. “How… how do you say such nice things when we’re naked in bed?”

Garth stretched his body upward, and Milo caught the hint, bending over to meet his mouth, to kiss him from a position of power, to give this incredibly kind man with the gentle hands and the unfailing good humor the attention he deserved.

Garth pushed himself up farther, and Milo straightened, and then they were reversed, Milo lying sideways on the bed, kneading Garth’s bare chest with urgent, feverish hands.

“You like my body?” Garth asked, standing for a moment.

Milo nodded, unable to be coy or shy about it now that he’d been caught groping with such need.

“Then say nice things about me,” Garth told him, unbuckling his belt and sliding his jeans and boxers down his lean hips.

Milo’s mouth went dry. “Your… your belly button,” he mumbled, overwhelmed. “It’s fathomless .”

Garth smiled, stepping out of his clothes. “That’s new. Keep going.”

“All the hair on your thighs is blond but your skin is gold . How does that happen ?” He sat up, possessed with the urge to touch all over again.

“Lots of swimming in the summer,” Garth murmured. “Anything else?”

“Hip bones,” Milo said, running a finger from the delightful prominence down a diagonal. He stopped suddenly and glanced up to see Garth’s eyes again. “Is this when I go down on you?” he asked, unsure.

Garth’s hand, cupping his cheek, was suddenly so much warmer, more intimate than Garth’s mouth had been. “Anything you want,” he murmured. “Touch it, ignore it, taste it, stroke it—just don’t hurt it, and I’ll do my best to promise the same.”

And again that glorious freedom. A slow smile stretched Milo’s cheeks, and without looking, he raised his hand and explored.

“The skin is so soft,” he marveled, fondling Garth’s length in his palm. “I’m always amazed by that. Is that wrong?”

Garth closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. It’s good,” he whispered.

Milo tightened his grip the way he liked his own cock squeezed—not so it hurt, but so it—

“Ah!” Garth tilted his head back. “That’s nice, Milo. Really nice.”

Milo smiled and kept stroking and then lowered his head, staring at it for a moment. “It’s pretty big,” he said, not sure Garth was aware of that.

A rumble echoed up from Garth’s stomach. “That’s kind,” he said diplomatically. “Any other notes?”

Milo grinned, that freedom expanding, giving him room to play. “Lickable,” he said, and then promptly did that.

This time Garth’s chuckle was tinged with a gasp, and Garth threaded his fingers through Milo’s hair. He didn’t grasp or yank or pull, simply cradled the back of Milo’s head and let Milo do his thing.

Milo kept licking, wondering why nobody had ever let him do this before. This thing was amazing —he’d wanted to play with one for ever so long, but it had been like taking a ride in a friend’s new car. Nobody ever let you drive. Stuart had loved to drive it right down Milo’s throat, and that had been uncomfortable and humiliating. This was different. Milo got to touch and taste and stroke and squeeze , and as he did so, his own drive stick was swelling in his lap, and every time Milo took Garth’s cock into his mouth and moved his head lower, that thing in Milo’s lap responded like somebody was doing it to him .

And Milo was relaxed enough that when the head of the thing touched the back of his throat, he only needed to withdraw a little, not gag, not choke, and there was no humiliation because he was in charge and powerful , and oh my God, it tasted/felt so good .

Garth’s fingers tightened a little in his hair, and Milo whimpered as Garth pulled out of his mouth. “Baby,” Garth said, his voice choked, “you’re going to make me come.”

Milo felt like he’d just heard a perfect chord in his cock . “Really?” he asked, excited. “Can I? Please?”

And he lowered his head down, his mouth engulfing Garth one more time, and Garth loosened his grip on Milo’s hair and placed his other hand on Milo’s shoulder and made breathless gasping sounds while Milo worked his strokes longer and harder and swirled his tongue and tasted more, and more, and—

“Oh God!” Garth’s fingers tightened again, but Milo didn’t mind because Garth’s hips were stuttering toward Milo’s face, and suddenly a torrent of come hit his back teeth, and Milo could taste it, and he swallowed, and there was more, and Garth pulled out, taking over from Milo for one last squeeze, one last stroke, one last dig of his thumb in the slit, and this next spurt was surprising, striping Milo’s cheek and his shoulder and his chest as Garth tilted his head back and cried out.

Milo stared up at him, joy like a sunrise in his chest and probably written across his face in come as well.

Garth was gulping air by the time he sank down to the bed next to Milo, chest heaving, body shaking, and Milo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed the side of his neck.

“Wow,” he said, not even able to remember the last time he’d been this happy. “You let me do that!”

Garth laughed helplessly. “You’re really good at it,” he said, still panting. But he was also still smiling as he turned to Milo and took his mouth, tongue busy swabbing and tasting, and Milo realized that what he’d just done was a shared activity, and he was almost giddy.

It was like sex was a hobby they could both participate in, like caring for the dogs. Holy wow ! Best hobby ever.

And as Garth kissed him, bore him back against the pillows, and made him helpless and pliant, all thoughts of hobbies like dog walking and chess deserted him.

Garth’s mouth was on his; then he was licking a playful strip across Milo’s face, rinsing away the come, Milo realized, and he would have giggled, but he was suddenly so very turned on. Then Garth was working his way across Milo’s chest, brushing his nipples barely long enough to make Milo need, to beg, until to Milo’s surprise, he was flat on his back, his head on the pillows, his knees bent and his feet drawn up on the bed, legs spread wantonly.

He kept rocking up and back, his hard cock thrusting against air as Garth placed little kisses across his stomach, under his belly button, along his thighs.

Milo realized he was being teased and tried not to whine. “Could you…,” he begged.

Garth pulled up, regarding Milo solemnly from between Milo’s spread legs. Milo’s glasses had disappeared, probably back in the living room, but nothing could be clearer than Garth’s serious intent.

“Baby,” he said softly, his breath blowing across Milo’s dripping cock and making him squirm. “I think you want to bottom, but you said it hurt. Do you mind if I do some things to see if you’d like it?”

Milo had showered before he’d packed to come here. Very carefully. With this contingency in mind. But suddenly—albeit in a faraway kind of way—he was brought back to his usual experience in bed.

“Like what things?” he asked, and his hips rocked as he spoke, making him think that he was not as serious about self-preservation as he’d first assumed.

Either that or he trusted Garth way more than he’d ever trusted Stuart.

“I’m going to touch you in your no-no place,” Garth said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “And if it turns into a yes-yes place, I’ll keep touching you there.”

Milo managed a dreamy, cheeky grin. “You’re surveying me before you lay pipe,” he said, nodding wisely, and Garth’s throaty laughter as he reached up toward one of the solid wood bed stands on his side of the bed turned Milo on as well. They could laugh during sex—wow! Did everybody know about this? He was reasonably sure that if everybody knew about this, more people would be having lots more sex!

Garth fumbled around and was back quickly, and the cooling air left behind when he’d been gone had worked as a tantalizing touch, so Milo’s entire no-no area was feeling very much yes-yes-yes!

And Garth didn’t touch him between his asscheeks at first. Instead he teased Milo’s cock with little licks and sucks that made Milo crazy, panting, begging, and then, just when he was at his craziest, he felt it.

A slickened finger there at his cleft, and he almost froze, but then Garth sucked his cock deep into the back of his throat, and Milo groaned.

When the finger teased his entrance, he thrust up against the back of Garth’s throat and tried not to come off the bed.

Garth pulled his mouth away but kept his finger. “Yes or no,” he gasped.

“Oh wow,” Milo said, trying not to thrash. “It’s good. Why is it good? It’s—oh my God. I’m going to come. From that! Why? Why would I—oh wow! Garth!”

And he sounded a little afraid, even to himself, and the fingers of Garth’s free hand twining with his helped to ground him, helped him breathe, as that other finger, the one sliding slickly into his no-no place, made fireworks go off behind his eyes.

He started to convulse, and Garth managed a miracle, sucking Milo’s cock down his throat and keeping the one finger in his asshole while keeping their fingers twined.

Milo had mercy on him, releasing his hand and holding the back of his head as his entire body flew apart, like shrapnel made of white light and joy and come.

He was still shaking when Garth, wiping his mouth on his own shoulder, pushed up on the bed next to him and wrapped steadying arms around his body.

“That was…,” Milo managed. “That was… oh God. God. Wow. Garth !” He turned his head in embarrassment and hid his eyes against Garth’s chest. “Wow. Wow. How did I not know sex could do that?”

Garth’s chest rumbled, but he didn’t say anything, simply held Milo while he shook in aftermath.

Finally, when the spots were done dancing in front of his eyes, he asked in a small voice, “What… what do we do now?”

“Wash off if we want,” Garth said, taking him literally. “Put on our pajamas. Let the dogs out to pee. Have some cookies and milk for dessert. Come back to bed. Maybe try again.”

Milo nodded, all of that making sense although none of it was what he meant.

“I-I was thinking us,” he said in a small voice. “That… that wasn’t the sex people have when they’re just friends.”

“Mmm….” Garth nuzzled his temple. “That was amazing, Milo. We can make it even better. But you’re right. We’re more than friends. And before you ask, no, we don’t have to move in together. We have sleepovers. Lots more sex. I think you’ll be surprised at what kinds of sex there are that nobody has told you about. And about how good it can feel. But you and me have all the time to work on being you and me. Don’t worry about it, Milo.”

“Can I call you my boyfriend?” Milo asked, because he liked his titles to be secure.

“Sure,” Garth allowed. “Can I call you mine?”

Milo smiled dreamily. “That would be awesome ,” he mumbled. And then he rolled over, burying his face against Garth’s chest and staying there as his eyes closed, wondering if Garth would forgive him if he missed the milk and cookies portion of the festivities.

This was celebration enough right here.