Scott Sherman: Third You Die

“Of course,” I’d told him. “We’ll know when the time is right.”

The problem was, that time seemed right to me from the start, but Tony didn’t seem to find it particularly imminent. Tony had been brought up as hetero as they come. His family, co-workers, and friends were old-school Catholics. For years, he regarded the few months in high school in which we’d fooled around as a bizarre detour from his otherwise straight path.

As far as I knew, he hadn’t told anyone about us. It was a Herculean effort for him to admit his feelings even to me. What would it take for him to tell the rest of the world?

In the meantime, we were building a life together on a shaky foundation of half-truths and denial.

I thought of Rafi’s arms squeezing the air out of me. I had the terrible feeling that, one way or another, these Rinaldi boys were gonna be the death of me.

Love hurts.

Three hours later, with Tony’s tongue halfway down my throat and his hands gripping my denim-covered ass as I straddled him on the couch, I was feeling a lot better.

Rafi had fallen asleep twenty minutes earlier in my bed. His light snores were like a reverse alarm-as long as we heard them, we knew we were safe.

Tony snuck out to help me make up the sofa bed where I’d be sleeping. We got distracted.

“Mmmm,” he moaned into my ear. “You feel so fucking good.” The growl in his voice almost had me coming in my pants.

I answered him by grinding deeper into his lap. “You like that?”

“Yesss,” he hissed. “I wish…”

“What?” I licked him from his ear to the base of his neck.

“Aw, man,” Tony groaned. He grabbed my hips and pulled me even closer, crushing our absurdly covered erections against each other. “I just… I mean…” He nodded toward the door of my bedroom. “He’s twenty feet away, Kevvy.”

He pushed me back. “I can’t, babe. Not with him right there. What if he wakes up?”

“We’ll hear him,” I panted, scooting myself back to where I’d just been. I liked that place. That was my happy place.

Tony put his hands on my shoulders. “Honey, you know how we are when we get going. We wouldn’t hear a bomb, let alone a four-year-old ninja in footie pajamas.”

“I promise,” I said, leaning in for a kiss, “we’ll be quiet.”

Tony leaned back. “When are we ever quiet?”

He had a point. “We could tie a bell around his neck,” I suggested. “Or put up a force field. Have those been invented yet?”

“Sorry, babe. He’s only here for two nights. Think you can hold on for that long?”

I grabbed his still steely cock through his dress slacks. “I don’t know. Can I? Wouldn’t someone notice?”

“Ha, ha,” Tony said, not amused. “You really know how to hurt a guy, don’t you?” He removed my hand from its perch.

“ Me hurt a guy?” I asked accusingly. “You’re the one trying to kill me with blue balls.”

“Poor baby,” he said. His hand slid up my thigh toward my aforementioned body parts. “Are they really blue? Maybe I should take a look…”

Yes! Score one for the home team.

“If you promise to be quiet,” Tony began.

“Like a mouse…”

“I mean, really, Kevvy…”

“A mute mouse.” His hand reached my crotch and rested there. “A mute mouse wearing a gag.” He squeezed and I gasped. Quietly.

“I guess we can…”

Then the bomb went off.

“Daddy,” came a small voice from the bedroom. “I’m tirsty. Can I have some water?”

“Sure, sweetie.” Tony tossed me off his lap like I’d suddenly burst into flame. “One minute.”

He walked, uncomfortably I’m glad to say, to the kitchen and returned with a half-full plastic kid’s tumbler. Just before going into the bedroom, he turned to me with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

I nodded. “Me too,” I whispered.

“Daddy?” Rafi called.

“Right here, honey.”

“Go,” I told him.

“He’s probably just not used to being here. I’d better lie with him until he falls asleep. I’ll try and sneak back out when the coast is clear.”

“Don’t bother,” I said, the words sounding sharper than I intended. I stood and turned my back to him, opening the sofa into a bed. “I mean, I’m beat, too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Kevvy,” Tony implored.

“Daddy,” Rafi whined.

“Tony,” I barked. “Just go. I’m fine. Good night.”

“Good night,” Tony said, sounding sad. He walked into the bedroom.

“Nite, Kebbin!” Rafi called, happy now that his dad was in sight again.

“Night, little man,” I responded.

It was turning into the closing moments of The Waltons, only no one was in their right bed.

I was tempted to go in and give Rafi another good night kiss, but I held back. He really was very sweet with me. He’d already taken to throwing his arms around me and saying “I love you, Kebbin,” and I always hugged him right back.

I never answered in kind, though. I wasn’t quite sure how we all fit. I liked Rafi very much. But there was no connection there. I worried about getting too close to him and Tony changing his mind. Leaving me behind for the safer choices. It made me sad.

I lay on the uncomfortable sofa bed. I thought of Tony twenty feet away yet in another world. One where he was a daddy, not another guy’s boyfriend. I knew he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to successfully combine the two. Another depressing thought upon which to dwell.

Luckily, I had the pounding pain of my unrelieved and aching testicles to distract me.

Lust hurts.

“He was even better,” Andrew whispered to me, although we were behind the closed doors of his glass-walled private office and no one could hear us unless we screamed, “than advertised.”

“That’s great,” I said politely, hoping if I showed the minimal possible interest I’d be spared the grisly details.

It was three days after Tony had left me blue-balled on the couch. The episode of my mom’s show that Freddy had sneak-peeked at in my apartment had aired to the world the day before. Grateful for the exposure, and pleased with how he’d come across on screen, Brock Peters called Andrew and invited him out for drinks. They wound up at Brock’s place.

“There’s this scene in The Legion of Super Twinks vs. the Beastly Bears of Doom where Brock hooks his heels behind his ears, which I’d always assumed was done with CGI. Well, it turns out he really can.. ”

I tried not to listen. Tony’s next visitation with Rafi wasn’t for another few days, and I was hoping he and I could finally finish our lovemaking. I’d have to remember to call him when I got out of here.

“Then, just like he did to Rod Racer in Buffguy, the Vampire Player, he flipped me over and…”

I also had to call Freddy. He’d left a message that he had gotten together last night with Cody, a guy I’d introduced him to a few months ago. They’ve been dating on and off since then-the closest Freddy’s come to a relationship in, well, ever. I knew Cody was frustrated that they weren’t more of a couple, but he was also glad to take what he could get. I thought Cody was a terrific catch, and I hoped Freddy had good news about how things were going.

“All of a sudden, Brock does this thing from Gone with the Rimmed where he takes a guy’s ass and…” Andrew’s eyes were gleaming and I swear he was starting to drool.

“Enough!” I said, unable to tune out more of Andrew’s endless recap. “What was this-actual sex between the two of you, or the porno version of a Civil War reenactment?”

The light in Andrew’s eyes blinked out so quickly that I felt a little guilty for pulling the curtain. “I know, I know,” he sighed. “It was kind of weird. Brock was nice enough, and, well, you saw, incredibly good-looking. Technically, the sex was great, too. Quite the workout. Very, ah, aerobic.