Date: Wed, 16 Dec 2015 06:11:34 +0000 (UTC)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mickey 12

It wasn't as big a place as Mickey had expected from the fancy
address. Being a modern building, it was one of those condos that had a
straight-through view from the front door, with an open kitchen connected
to a living/dining room then a view out to Dolly's back yard beyond.

And she wasn't to be denied for very long. As soon as they opened the solid
wooden door she bolted through the kitchen, jumped over a coffee table and
then flew out the doggie door. There was just the clanging of the swinging
plastic flap as the only evidence that she had even been in the room.

"Clean-up duty in the morning," Drew said as he kicked off his shoes and
checked the thermostat. "I turn it down when I leave, but it warms up
pretty quick. Are you cold?"

"No, I'm actually kind of warm right now, maybe it was the trek over
here. What about you?"

"Same. Maybe my brains been spinning too much today and overheated my
body," Drew replied, then continued. "By the way, that's the bathroom
there, towels and stuff like that are in that closet next to it, and the
guest room is next to that."

After he had pointed out a few more useful items about the house, he turned
again to Mickey. "Are you sure that you're not cold?"

Mickey didn't answer. He just kicked off his shoes like Drew had done then
put his arms around Drew's neck and pulled them close.

It was definitely an ambush, but it wasn't like there was complaint or
resistance. He was clearly focused on getting Mickey orientated but it was
clear the he could be distracted, too.

Sara had thoughtfully brought Mickey's backpack to their `hideout' at
Andrew's and had stuffed it with a night's worth of clothes and some of his
toilet sundries. `Just like Mom,' Mickey mused to himself, She was about
the last person in the world from whom he'd expect such a thoughtful
gesture, though with Sara he could never be sure of the hidden agendas.

Drew wasn't thinking about any of that when he pushed the pack off of
Mickey's shoulders and it hit the ground with a thud.

Just like at the park, Mickey could not get enough of him. Their tongues
danced in and out of each other's mouths as their hands explored their
fully clothed bodies.  Even through the multiple layers of t-shirt, polo
shirt and leather jacket there was no question of the hardness of the body
underneath.

Mickey slipped his hands down and began to unzip the front of Drew's
jacket. It was going down so smoothly and easy, he thought to himself.

Then he stopped.

"Whoa,' he whispered, catching his breath at the same time as they pulled
apart.  It didn't seem like a long kiss, but the passion and energy that
they both put into the kiss was enough to quickly get each of their bodies
desperate for oxygen.

Drew just smiled nervously and Mickey knew instantly that it was the right
decision. He had stopped just in a nick of time.

"How do you feel?" Mickey asked.

Drew's hand reached over and wiped Mickey's hair off of his
forehead. "Never better," he replied between breaths. "God I love holding
you...' he said as he then lowered his arms around Mickey's slim waist,
wrapping his fingers in the belt loops as he dreamily twisted and pulled
them.

It was almost surreal where he was. `Time to pounce!' one side of him was
screaming, including his sometimes painfully hard, aching dick. After
spending so much time together that day, he felt as if the front of his
underwear might be almost soaked through with pre-cum

But the other side of him was putting on the brakes, at least
temporarily. As much as he wanted to devour this guy, Drew had never had
sex with anyone before. How would he handle it? Would he feel like he was
in control? Was he ready?

His hands stroked either side of Drew's face.

"We can take it easy, babe. I know this is all new to you, so you need to
feel comfortable, like it's the right time." He said, his fingers now
running through Drew's hair.  "We can go at any pace you want," he said.

Drew's eye's looked down as he paused. The he looked back up at
Mickey. "What pace to you want to go?"

Mickey drew a deep breath. He didn't really know how Drew would react to so
much happening so quickly. There was no doubt of his affection. But a lot
was happening to someone for the very first time.

In the end, he decided the only thing he could do is to be honest.

"I can go at any speed you want Drew, because I...I know that you're the
guy for me. I don't care how long I have to wait, because I know that in
the end we'll be together," he said, the blond hair coursing through his
fingers.

"But you're in a different place than I am, so I don't want to rush you on
anything, especially, um...physical stuff. It's important that we do
whatever we do at the right time and that you feel like you're ready."

Drew was holding his breath, then he let out a long sigh.  "I think you're
right, I'm not sure how much I'm ready for now," he said. Then his grip on
Mickey's waist suddenly tightened. "But I do know that I'm ready for this,"
he said as he pulled them into another deep kiss.

						***

After the grand tour of the place and the feeding of a famished Daisy, Drew
pulled a couple sodas from the fridge and they sat down together on the
coach.

As Drew plopped down into his seat, he put his drink on the coffee table
and leaned his head onto Mickey's shoulder. Then he just sighed.

`Damn, he's exhausted!' Mickey said to himself as his arm went around
Drew's shoulder, pulling his limp frame even closer.

Without any words, they just sat there next to each other. Daisy lay on the
floor in front of them, one of her paws on his foot.

In the space of only a few hours, Drew's life had been transformed.  He had
his personal counseling records exposed on every major news network and
political and social website in the country, came out as gay, and,
crucially for him, received a hostile response from his father. And on top
of that he was very likely to lose the very fortune that got him his
notoriety in the first place. In the end, Mickey was confident that Drew
could push through all of it. But what about the collateral damage?

He was about to turn his head and speak when, suddenly, Drew felt very
heavy.

He was asleep.

For a moment, it was a relief that Drew could find any rest,

But then he had to figure out how to keep him sleeping, which amongst other
things, meant keeping him warm. Daisy was doing her duty on the feet, but
there were only two objects within reach – their jackets, previously
flung over the back of the couch after they arrived – that could be the
used in some way to cover the rest of him.

Doing his best to keep the right side of his body stationary, Mickey
stretched out his left arm but couldn't quite reach either one. Because
they were stacked on top of each other, if he could snatch one, he should
eventually be able to retrieve both.

In the meantime, Drew had slumped onto him even further. The top of his
head was now pressing against face, the blond hairs gently brushing against
Mickey's scars. Where the skin had retained some undamaged nerves it almost
tickled. But now he felt even more limited in his ability to snag the
jackets.

Keeping his head stationary, he reached his arm out as far as he possible
could, his fingers splayed out and jumping from left to right, hoping to
sense either the leather of Drew's jacket or the cotton cloth of his own.

After searching in what seemed like every possible direction, his index
finger finally made contact with what felt like a zipper.

`Eureka!' he said to himself,

There was no choice but to move his whole body just a fraction of an inch
in order to pinch the smallest fragment of material. Taking a deep breath,
he slowly, almost glacially, tilted his body until he could get just the
tiniest bit of material,

Once he was able to accomplish that, he still had to be careful that he
didn't tug so quickly that he'd pull Drew's jacket out from underneath his
own and so lose the second one, or maybe even lose both. So, inch by inch,
and still operating only by his sense of touch, he pulled the stack closer
and closer, until, finally, he was able to get a good grip of his own
jacket on top.

`Phew!'

He wasn't a lefty, so working only with that hand was awkward. But he was
eventually able to stretch Drew's own jacket across his lap, while the
other covered his torso and as much of the shoulders as he could reach.

Snuggling himself as close as possible to contribute his own body heat, he
just leaned in for the night. He knew he'd be cold himself. But that didn't
really matter.

						***

As he awoke he couldn't tell what time it was, but felt strangely warm. He
didn't want to turn his head, but just held himself still and held that way
for a few minutes until he somehow realized that Drew was no longer next to
him. Eventually turning his head, all he saw was an elaborate stack of
pillows and seat cushions that had kept Mickey himself straightened up. For
how long, he had no idea.

But what really surprised him was when he looked down. There was now not
only a proper blanket wrapped around him, but it was carefully tucked into
every nook and crevice, insulating every square inch of his body, even his
feet.  He was bundled up almost like a mummy, or how he'd seen pictures of
the swaddled children of Eskimos.

To top of all off, there was the smell of bacon and eggs cooking.

Leaning his head back, he tried to take it all in. Here he was, waking up
on the couch in Drew's condo. Did what he thought had happened yesterday
really happen? Or was it all just a dream?

Before he could even answer himself, he heard footsteps, along with the
clanging of the metal tags on Daisy's collar.

"You're awake," Drew said, dropping down on one knee so that he was
eye-level with him. "Are you still cold? Or maybe too warm? I can add a
blanket if..."

"No, it's perfect, Drew, just perfect," he replied, resting his head on the
coach, not wanting to get up if only because it would destroy the almost
origami quality of the bedding work.

Drew put his hand on Mickey's knee. "Did you sleep all right? When I woke
up, you looked cold, even shivering a little bit, so I wasn't sure that you
were sleeping. But you didn't seem to be aware of me, and your eyes were
closed, so then I knew that you were out."

 "Ahhh...' Mickey yawned before he answered. Then his head straightened up
and he looked at Drew.

"Last I knew, you had fallen asleep, but you were barely covered so I put
the jackets on you. Were you warm enough? Did you actually sleep OK
yourself? I wasn't sure how comfortable you were."

"Like you said, it was perfect," Drew replied, softly.

"Hey, do you have some cream for your face? You probably didn't have a
chance to put it on las night. I'll put it on for you if you want.

"Yeah, I think that Sara packed it away, but I'll have to dig it up. I can
put it on when I get up. It doesn't feel too bad, actually."

"Good. But if you want me to do anything just let me know."

Neither said a word for a few moments as Drew stroked his thigh. Then
Mickey, reluctantly, felt like he had to come back to reality.

"Is anyone outside?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe I should turn on the TV to find out," Drew replied,
only half joking. "I peeked out the window this morning and it looked like
they had all pretty much lost interest, though I wouldn't rule out a
surprise at any time.

"Well at least we got in unmolested last night," Mickey replied.

After the word `unmolested' came out of his mouth, he cringed inside. He
wanted to try to avoid any sexually connotative words, both to keep
pressure off of Drew and to not feed his own lust and hunger for the stud
inches from his skin.

Reaching up for Mickey's head and tussling his hair, Drew asked, "Well, at
least we're safe for now. Ready for breakfast?"

"I'd kind of like to stay here for a bit longer, if that's OK.  It's nice
and cozy.  Plus you did such an artistic job with this I want to delay the
destruction as long as possible before I dismantle the work of art."

Placing his hand on Mickey's thigh to push himself up, Drew laughed. "It's
just very functional I think. But get up whenever you like and breakfast
will be ready, I'll cut up the bagels right now and we can toast them
whenever you're set.

As Drew walked back to the kitchen, Mickey let out a sigh of relief. His
morning wood was never harder, and if Drew's hand had hit just an inch
higher on his leg he wouldn't have been surprised if his dick had
spontaneously erupted.

						***

`This is going to be a problem,' he thought to himself, recalling his
thoughts from the evening before.

After rousing himself from the couch and digging into his backpack for the
cream, Mickey hit the bathroom. It seemed to take forever to get his dick
soft enough to pee, and he wondered if Drew might suspect anything. But
after finally stuffing it back in his shorts, he looked at himself in the
mirror. In spite of the unkempt hair and two day growth of stubble on his
face he noticed his own eyes, and how wide open they were. He had never
felt this alive.

The scars were still there, of course. But for the first time in years, he
was really beginning to feel that they didn't matter.

"Help yourself to anything you want," Drew said as Mickey finally made it
out to the kitchen. He was juggling a pan in one hand and spatula in the
other as he finished off the scrambled eggs, waiting to spread them onto a
waiting bagel. Two strips of bacon were already prepared on a nearby paper
towel, the rapidly absorbed oil covering almost two-thirds of the surface
after only a few moments.

"Just like old times," Mickey said, recalling the scrambled eggs and bacon
sandwich that Drew had brought him the first day of his convalescence.

Drew just smiled. "I can't guarantee that mine are as good, but at least I
can tell you that they're not going to be cold."

"So what are you going to have?"

"The same," he replied, "just without the bagel."

"Well, let me get the plates," Mickey replied, reaching to open what looked
like the most promising of the gleaming white cupboard doors.

It was a rather large kitchen for a condo of this size, and, curiously, he
found that many of the cupboards were empty. Drew motioned for him to open
one other set of doors, where he finally found rows of neatly arranged
French bistro glasses, along with two columns of stacked plates on the
shelf above.

The fact that about half of the cabinets were empty was somewhat mysterious
to him, especially since the other ones seemed jam packed. The only traces
of occupancy on the empty shelves were small brownish particles that looked
like the detritus from wine corks.

"Sorry it's a bit tight there, I've been doing
some...um... re-arranging. It's kind of a work in progress," Drew said as
Mickey closed the slim, modern door and it clicked shut.

His voice sounded oddly nervous to Mickey, almost like he made up the
answer. Why he would feel that way, Mickey had no idea. But he just assumed
some very understandable fatigue and let the comment pass.

"No worries. I think that I got everything," he replied.

At least it was Saturday, so neither of them had to figure out how to cover
missed classes, or get around campus in an inconspicuous way without being
accosted.  Having a simple breakfast together was great, as they were both
able to finally put the tension of the unknown behind them, at least
temporarily.

As they talked through breakfast, it felt to Mickey like he had known Drew
his entire life, the conversation flowed so smoothly. They spent the time
like any couple at breakfast, with the conversation ranging from gossip
about their friends to what they might do for lunch.

But they couldn't avoid what was lurking outside the door and the little
bubble that they were creating inside.

"Mickey, I need to let you know something about my situation now that it
looks like my family will cut me off," Drew said as they were finishing the
meal.

"That's not a for sure, though, is it Drew? Mickey asked. He didn't want to
appear naïve as to consequences what was happening, but at the same time
he didn't want to encourage an early capitulation either.

"Knowing what I know about these people, I think drawing any other
conclusions would be wishful thinking." He was staring at his empty glass
as he unconsciously rolled it around on its segmented base around the
table.  Then he cleared his throat.

"My Dad will certainly cut me off from the Trust that he controls, so I
really don't have anything of my own except for some cash that my Mom left
me, about $100,000, and some land in southern Ohio.

"How much land?"

"Jeeze, it's a lot... like 2,000 acres. It's really hilly down there, but
it's very scenic, with a big cabin right on the shore of the lake. It's a
retreat in the best sense of the word."

"That's a big spread, Drew. And it sounds like it could be a lot of fun,"
he said. But he was also thinking of something else.  Putting the numbers
together in his head, Mickey knew what the problem was before Drew even got
to it.

"It is a great place. Casey and I spent the summers there with our
Mom. There's the lake, which is kind of long and thin, like a small version
of the Finger Lakes in upstate New York, a pretty good sized cabin, and not
much else, which is what I like about it.  It's off the grid, so has solar
collectors, propane heat, that kind of stuff.  It was our refuge, and it
was really fun when my Dad could make it out there, too, and it was just
our family. And she loved it too," he added, reaching down and stroking
Daisy's head. She had plopped down next to him when they started the
meal. Out of loyalty or waiting opportunistically for dropped food, Drew
didn't claim to know which. But Mickey's presence didn't vary her routine.

 "It's a great gift, and I'm really lucky to have it," he continued, still
staring at the glass, "But I don't have any income right now and the taxes
will eat up what I have in about two years.  And that's putting nothing
into upkeep and maintenance."

Just what Mickey thought.

"I'd hate to lose it, but I don't see any way to hang onto it right
now. And that's counting on the University forcing my Dad to pay my
tuition, which is the one thing that he'll have fork out. I don't think
that he'd make a big stink about that, and put the university into the
position of giving financial aid to a billionaire's son. But there won't be
a nickel outside of that, especially if my step mom has anything to say
about it." He let out a deep sigh, like some burdensome secret was just
revealed.

"This place really means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Mickey asked. The
wheels were already turning in his head. `Let's see: if we could live cheap
we could use my earnings from next summer for about a half year's taxes on
the land. Between that and what Drew has in the bank we'll just make it
till my graduation. Once I start work we'll be making a lot more money and
we should be able to handle it,' he quickly calculated.

"Yeah, it does...you know...,' Drew replied, then cut himself off.

"What?" Mickey asked.

"I..." Drew replied, looking at Mickey, but stopped himself again.

"Tell me more about this, I mean, what are you thinking?"

Drew's voice was tentative at first. "I've dreamt so much about being with
you. Like all the time. I even had our life planned out. After the other
night, when you told me about wanting to go back home, I thought we could
live back there and have your Mom live with us and our kids, then we could
spend weekends and summers down on the land..."  He looked at Mickey then
looked down at the glass, which was still rolling around in his hand.

"Go ahead, Drew, say what you're thinking," Mickey said.

His mouth was dry, like he had already said too much.  But the
encouragement seemed to open him up.

"We could go down there with the kids on breaks. It's a great place for a
family, so much stuff to do for everyone.  It's where I learned to swim,
and there are great hiking paths, some small cliffs, even a cave. Casey and
I used to make up stories about who lived there," he said, a small smile
now appearing.  "And there's all sorts of other fun things to do, too. I
think they would love it!" he said, then seemed to catch himself again.

"Damn, Mickey, I`m getting way ahead of myself. I hope this doesn't scare
you," he said quietly, like he was trying to soften the emotions.

Mickey did a fist bump into Drew's hand on the glass. "I...I mean
`we'...don't need to go back to Cleveland, Drew. We could raise a family
anywhere that you'd like. Going back there is just my own thing, I was just
talking. I know that you're trying to make it seem like makes sense, it's
just..."

"...Very important to you!" Drew interjected. "Mickey, except for that
land, there's no other place that seems like home to me. New York sure
doesn't.  But you have a place that IS important, and I would be glad to go
there with you. I was, like, so happy that you told me where and how you
wanted to live. Even though I was worried about you that night, your ideas
give me a place to focus on and fantasize about."

Mickey pulled his hands back and folded them across his chest. He thought
about certain questions when Drew broached the subject of kids, then
decided that it was crazy to ask about it. But then, impulsively, he
decided to get all the cards out on the table.

"How many kids should we have?"

If he could have grabbed words out of mid-air and put them back in his
mouth, this is the one time that we would have done it. But it was too
late.

Drew looked at him out of the corner of his eye, a hesitant look on his
face.  Mickey wasn't sure if he could ever recover from his question, until
Drew finally spoke.

"Um...maybe four?" We could have them ourselves or we could adopt. I hope
that's not too many for you. But I really like kids, and I think that you'd
be a great Dad".

Now Drew looked like he was unsure of how far he had pushed things, as it
was obvious that he, too, couldn't help saying the words. It was like they
were building on each other's momentum.

"Do you really want more than that?" Mickey asked, just to make sure that
Drew wasn't holding back.

"No, four is good. But if we have more, I won't complain."

Mickey paused and smile before he spoke. "Me neither," he replied, one of
his own deeply buried hopes now out on the table.

He couldn't quite figure out how they had gotten into a serious subject
like this so fast. At first, it scared him. Maybe it was just naïve,
juvenile enthusiasm, he thought to himself, an emotional outburst.

But that wasn't who either of them was. And it was obvious that the
anticipation of a life together wasn't just from himself. It felt warm just
thinking about it. Until Drew brought him back to the present,

"It's all a great plan, Mickey. I love it. But I think we'll have to do
without the land.

Mickey paused for a moment, his eyes moving in the way they did when he was
calculating.

"They're might be a chance to keep it. Drew," he said. "Let me see what you
think of about this..."