Chapter 5 – Chapter 5

Christopher gave up trying to maintain control. He relaxed, sank back into the sofa facing the fireplace, encased Evan's waist between his hands, and concentrated on the penetration and slide of his sheathed cock inside Evan's channel, as the young man perched in his lap, facing him, feet flat on the sofa cushions on either side of Christopher's hips, and rose and fell on the shaft. Christopher lay there, head lolling to the side, eyes focused on the gas-fueled logs in his fireplace, and murmuring his pleasure. His Levi jeans and Calvin Klein briefs were puddled on the floor in front of the sofa, and his Brooks Brothers shirt was unbuttoned and flared open. Evan's face was leaning down, his mouth latched on Christopher's left nipple, sucking on it, as his pelvis raised and lowered on Christopher's erection.

Evan had appeared from downstairs, returning from the shower, with just a towel around his waist. He was a beautiful young man.

Hearing him come up the stairs, Christopher, who was sitting in front of the fire on the sofa, turned away from the stairs and called out, "I don't know what you want to drink. A Coke or beer? Wine or something harder. I've poured myself a beer. Your clothes are in the washer. I hope you found clothes in the guest room that . . ." But then he'd swiveled his head around and saw that Evan was just in a towel. And then Evan wasn't anymore. He dropped the towel, showing that he was in erection. Christopher sucked air.

"Evan, you don't have to . . . I didn't bring you to me house to . . ."

"I want to. It's not just that I want to show my gratitude that you brought me in from the cold—or saved me for doing something drastic tonight. I saw you. I saw you at the church with Jamal. You go with men. You don't just let men fuck you, do you? You fuck men too, I hope. I want you to fuck me."

"You saw me? You saw me with Jamal?" Christopher whispered, but it was all he was able to say before Evan had approached the back of the sofa; leaned over it; cupped Christopher's chin, pulling the man's head back; and took his mouth in a deep kiss. Christopher didn't resist, coming out of the kiss only once before Evan was straddling his hips, fucking himself on Christopher's cock; and for that brief moment, Christopher murmured, "Steve. Oh, Steve," before going under Evan's control again.

During the kiss, Evan unbuttoned and flared Christopher's shirt with the hand not cupping the older man's chin and then ran his hand down lower, unbuckling, unzipping, and flaring the fly of the jeans, taking possession of Christopher's hardening cock, and stroking him into total possession. The older man completely subdued, Evan came over the back of the sofa, into Christopher's lap, impaling himself on the older man's cock, slowly, languidly, rising and falling on the shaft, and then there was no further talking—just sighing, groaning, and murmurings of "Yes, yes, just like that," until they'd both released.

Christopher normally bottomed, as he had done with Jamal earlier in the night—but with Steve, and now with Evan, he became the top of sorts. He wasn't dominant; he still was submissive to his partner. But it was Steve, before, and now the very similar Evan, who was riding the cock—but from the top.

Upstairs, on the master room bed, after Evan, who had been riding the prone Christopher's cock in a reverse cowboy in their second coupling, rolled off the older man's body and stretched out beside him, letting his hand glide across Christopher's trembling body and fondling the older man's cock and balls, the first words since it had begun were spoken.

"Was it Jamal you were afraid of among the homeless men at the shelter?" Christopher asked.

"No, Jamal's cool. And he gives good fuck. Don't you think? Didn't he do you real well?"

"Yes," Christopher admitted. "He did. Real well. I don't know how I could have made it through Christmas Eve without him . . . and now you."

"So, it's OK that I came on to you?"

"Yes, it's more than OK, Evan. But I hate to think I've done to you what you were running from."

"You haven't. I left home because of my mother's boyfriend, Matt. It's not that I didn't go with men. I want to pick out the men I go with, and I didn't want it to be someone who was doing my mother too. She deserves better than that. She's had a rough time and doesn't pick men well."

"She must be frantic, not knowing where you are—that you're safe—tonight."

"Am I safe with you?" Evan laughed. "I guess I am. I'm the one doing all of the aggression. I suppose you're right about my mother, though. None of this, other than her bad judgment in men, is her fault."

"Your mother must be frantic with worry. How long have you been on the street, Evan?"

"Nine days, no, ten days now, I think. But I'm of age. I shouldn't be living with my mother now, anyway. I should be off, making my own way."

"Probably," Christopher said, "but that should be something the two of you work out. Do you really think you should do it this way—become homeless; not let her know where you are and whether you'd doing OK?"

"I'm certainly doing OK here. Oh, shit, that feels good." Christopher had taken possession of the younger man's shaft with a hand and was stroking him.

"Shush now. It's true, you are an adult, old enough to make your own decisions. I don't want to lecture you. I want to make love to you now. It's been so long. You are truly a Christmas gift to me."

Christopher rolled over on top of Evan and took the younger man's mouth with his. Coming out of the kiss, he buried his face in the hollow of Evan's throat for several minutes, both men concentrating on their cocks pressed against each other as they engorged. Their bodies were in motion, slow-dancing against each other in close embrace. Evan groaned as Christopher worked down his trembling body, Evan moaning as Christopher kissed and nibbled with his mouth and worshipped with his hands until he reached and inhaled the younger man's shaft. Evan grasped Christopher's head between his hands and moved his hips in the rhythm of the suck until, with a little cry, a long sigh, and a collapse, he came in Christopher's throat. The older man than moved back up Evan's body, between the younger man's open thighs, reached down and placed his cock head in position, mounted and penetrated Evan's channel, and took him in long, deep strokes. Christopher was in the saddle now. Steve was the only one he'd taken like this before.

"You whispered his name—Steve—several times while we fucked," Evan said when they were stretched out beside each other again, their hands roaming on the other's body.

"Yes. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I understand—well, sort of. You said he died last Christmas Eve. How did he die?"

A heavy silence ensued and Evan said, "Sorry, if you don' want to talk about it."

"No, that's good. I need to get it out. You were sent to me tonight, I think, to help me get past this. He shot himself. Here, in the house . . . in the garage . . . while I was at the church, helping with the homeless shelter there."

"Shit. And I gave you a problem with a gun tonight." Evan started to roll off the bed, but Christopher held him tight, in place.

"No, don't. Tonight was all for a purpose, I believe. There was nothing wrong between us but not openly facing the situation. Steve had found he had lung cancer—advanced. He smoked like a chimney and I had always been after him about stopping. It suddenly was there between us, rampant guilt on both sides, and we weren't facing it. I should have told him that it didn't matter between us—that I'd be there forever. I didn't say it, though, and he took what he thought was the loving way toward me out. It wasn't. But it was my fault for not making that clear to him. I've let it ride me. I see that now. And I see that with you. Sorry, but I think I do need to lecture. Your mother must be frantic. I'm going to shower and dress now. Call your mother. Tell her you're OK. That's what I should have done for Steve. I should have told him I was here—that it would be OK between us, at least, no matter what happened."

"It's three o'clock in the morning," Evan said.

"She won't care. She's probably sitting by the phone now. Call her or not, but think about it while I shower."

Christopher rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom. When he came out, Evan was sitting on the side of the bed, talking on a cell phone. Tears were streaming down his face.

"You're right. She said she'd been sitting by the phone," Evan said to Christopher as the older man redressed himself. "She said Matt confessed to her what he'd been doing and she threw him out. She wants me to come home."

"What do you want to do, Evan?"

When the young man didn't answer for moment, just sat there trying to pretend he wasn't crying, Christopher said, "Where does your mother live?"

"It's the middle of the night. My other things are at the church," Evan mumbled.

"Where does your mother live?"

"Cleveland Heights. Glenwood Road."

"We could be there in a half hour. We can swing by the church and I'll get your other bag."

"You don't have to—"

"It's Christmas. You were put here to help get me straight, and I'm here for you in the same plan. It's out of our hands."

"Will I see you again?"

"I'll give you my card. Call me anytime. If you need a job, I've got them to give. Shower and dress. Your clothes should be dry now. We can get you home in a half hour."

When they came back downstairs, Christopher saw that his glass of beer, untouched, still sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa and that he'd forgotten to turn the gas-logs fireplace off. He chuckled that they had moved so quickly into having sex and then to moving it to the bedroom.