Date: Tue, 10 Jul 2007 17:08:33 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapter 15

This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons
are completely coincidental.  Actual locations are mentioned, and are used
for 'background' only.


'Phalen - Finding Happiness'
Chapter fifteen

by Roy Reinikainen


The late afternoon sunlight glinted off the polished surface of the desk,
casting a diffuse glow over Larry who was oblivious to his surroundings as
he spoke on the telephone.  Greg stretched his legs out in front of him and
closed his eyes for a moment, welcoming the quiet.  He was exhausted, both
from a hard day at the Athletic Clinic, and the burden of not knowing what,
if anything, Dustin might be doing to cause further damage to his
reputation as a physician.

'Drugs,' he thought to himself, shaking his head and causing Larry to look
up a moment before he shook his head in disbelieving frustration at the
difficulty he was having getting any information.  Not only were drugs
causing *him* trouble, they were making Phalen's life miserable as well.
And when Phalen was miserable, Jeff was unhappy, which made his house a
distressingly unpleasant place to be living.  He'd made an escape to the
peace and quiet of Larry's house claiming he had to check up on any
progress Larry might have made on his case.  As he left the house, Jeff and
Phalen had retreated into the bedroom.

It had been fun watching Larry try to cajole information about Dustin from
the University police, especially since he didn't even know Dustin's last
name.  "They won't even tell me how many guys named Dustin are enrolled,"
he groused between calls.  Larry had even tried getting information from
the Athletic Clinic where Greg worked, and where Dustin had served as a
temporary staff person, to no avail.

'I'd be shouting by now, but Larry is so calm.'  Greg grinned to himself,
as he compared the man in front of him with his son.  Both had the same
sense of playfulness.  From time to time during his search for information,
Larry would look up and smile, or roll his eyes and then wink.  It appeared
the latest attempt at information gathering had been as unsuccessful as the
others.  He sighed and hung up the phone.

"I'm all for keeping student records private."  He grinned sheepishly, his
dimples flashing.  "Except when *I* want to see them."  He leaned back in
his large leather chair, idly twisting from side to side, silently watching
Greg in the fading light.  Finally, Greg spoke, his voice warm and
soothing, as the soft yellow light in the room faded and the palms outside
the office window became silhouettes against the suddenly flaming desert
sky.

"I like this."  Greg's vague gesture encompassed the scene outside the
windows, the office . . . as well as the man across the desk.  "The peace
and quiet," he added when Larry raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry.

"You . . . this house, everything here is so . . . restful.  There's always
so much going on both at work and over at Jeff's, I sometimes go for a walk
just to have some quiet.  Even then, everything's so much noisier than back
in Helsinki."  He sighed and stared into the distance.  "I miss the quiet
. . . and the green."  He hesitated a moment.  "And the water," he added
with a sheepish grin.  "Of course, now I know where to come when I want
some peace and quiet."  Larry grinned and let Greg continue to speak,
taking note of Greg's sparkling dark blue eyes which danced with suppressed
laughter.

"People are always dropping in and taking their clothes off."  He chuckled.
"I was thinking of Jeff's, but it is also true at work."  Larry snorted a
soft laugh.  Greg's playful grin slowly faded as he silently looked out the
office window to the dull glow on the horizon.

"I can just imagine when Mother and Dad come for a visit and Jeff and
Phalen's friends come over.  You see, Mother is not a big fan of other
people being naked, to say nothing of herself.  It's Dad and Jeff who have
always had trouble staying dressed . . . and Phalen."

"And me," Larry added, "at least whenever I'm over there.  I've learned how
good being naked around other men can feel."  Greg gave Larry a wistful
smile.

"Greg, you seem in an especially melancholy mood this evening.  Other than
everything going on with this Dustin character, are you happy being here?
I mean, in this country."

Greg thought before he answered, staring into the distance and running the
forefinger of his right hand back and forth on the arm of the chair, a
behavior identical to Jeff's.  When Greg looked up, any thoughts that Larry
was watching Jeff were dispelled by the intensity of the dark blue eyes,
almost hidden in the dimly lit room.

"Yes, I'm happy.  I've loosened up a lot since arriving, which is a very
good thing, as far as I'm concerned.  Phalen and Jeff have had a lot to do
with that, but mostly it's been because of Curt.  He's peaceful, like you.
He listens, and accepts me as I am, a highly inhibited, slightly confused
man who, until recently, couldn't admit even to himself, that he is gay."
Larry smiled at Greg's description of himself, at the same time he was
captivated by the accent and the soft voice.  Greg grinned.  "Having said
that, I *do* like to have fun . . . and laugh.  Curt's been good in that
respect, as well."

"I've met Curt a few times.  He seems like a good guy."

"He is."  Greg settled back into his chair, resting his bare arms on the
arms of the chair, splaying his fingers over the leather in the same way
Jeff had done many times, while sitting in the same chair.

"You care for him a great deal, don't you . . . Curt, I mean."

Greg gave Larry a crooked grin and nodded.  "I do, a great deal."

"But?"

Larry's question was answered with a shrug.  "I don't love him."  He
snorted a soft laugh.  "My relationship with Curt has been good for both of
us.  I needed someone to tell me that I'm an okay guy.  I don't have to be
perfect all the time.  I shouldn't let what other people think of me shape
the way I behave.  I guess . . . I guess, Curt's telling me it's okay to
. . ."  He hesitated, trying to think of the correct words.  "I guess, I'm
learning to love myself, just as Curt is learning that he is no longer the
same man who hurt Brad so badly."

He took a deep breath.  "That's a lot of what being gay is all about isn't
it?"

Larry made an inquiring sound.

"Learning to love oneself.  We can't expect others to love us until we are
comfortable with who we are."

Greg shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossing
them at the ankles and rested his head back against his interlaced fingers.
"It's funny how Curt and I can learn so much by being quiet.  Sometimes,
we'll spend an evening sitting on the balcony of his condominium, holding
hands, in silence."  Greg gave Larry a bashful look.  "It's so
. . . restful."

"It's funny," Larry said, sitting forward and switching on a desk lamp.
Greg frowned and squinted at the bright intrusion.  Larry quickly dimmed
the light until it was only bright enough for them to see one another,
flicking Greg a glance of apology.

"I was just thinking how sitting here, talking with you feels much like
visiting with Jeff.  You look and sound so much like him."

Greg's frown returned.  "I'm *not* Jeff, Larry.  He and I may resemble one
another, and we may *sound* alike, but we are very different.  I'm not
Jeff.  Remember that."  He squeezed the arms of the chair and, continued to
speak.

"Whenever I'm with Curt, I sometimes feel as if he wishes I was Brad.  Now,
it seems as if you could begin to think of me as Jeff.  I'm not Brad.  I'm
not Jeff.  I'm Greg!"  He flopped back in the chair, leaning his head back
with a frustrated sigh.

Larry seemed surprised by the vehemence of the response.  There was nothing
he could say.  "I . . . realize, that.  I will cease making comparisons."

Greg seemed to relax, slowly rubbing his forehead.  His eyes remained
closed as he spoke.

"You love him, don't you?  Jeff, I mean."  Larry's eyes widened slightly,
but he said nothing, trying not to squirm as Greg studied him.  "I've seen
how you look at him, how you touch him when the two of you are greeting one
another, or are saying good bye."  When Greg opened his eyes they were as
troubled as his thoughts.  "He's important to you, isn't he, more than just
being your son's partner?"

Larry nodded.  "He's like another son.  I love him."  Greg studied him in
silence for a few moments longer.

"Does Phalen know . . . how you feel?"

Larry slowly nodded, his head still bowed.  "Yes.  He, Jeff and I have
talked about . . . how I feel."  He looked up.  "I . . . I'd never . . . do
anything . . . even if Jeff would agree, which he never would.  I'd never
suggest it."  After a long moment, he chuckled softly.

"I thought I'd pretty much put those feelings behind me.  Then, I met you,
and they're back.  I'm not sure why."  He took an unsteady breath, giving
Greg a crooked grin.  "I can assure you though, that you've made yourself
understood.  I apologize for comparing you with your brother."

"Once this business with Dustin has been settled, I'd like to get to know
Greg, the person.  I think I could come to like him very much."  The room
was silent for a long moment as the two men studied one another.

"You *love* both Jeff and Brad."  Larry reluctantly nodded.  "If you
develop any sort of feelings for me it would only be trouble.  I'd wonder
if I was a substitute for Jeff.  I don't want to be that.  When someone
. . . eventually . . . tells me they love me, I want to know that they're
loving Greg."  He gave Larry a crooked smile.

"You know, Jeff has always claimed to be intimidated by me, to be afraid
I'll run over him without even knowing it.  That's not the case at all.
I'm the one who is finding it difficult not to become lost in *his*
shadow."

Greg looked up and stopped his musings.  "Listen to me," he said with some
exasperation.  "I must be more tired than I thought.  In just a few short
minutes, I've come into your house and told you how to run your love life,
criticized you for comparing me with my brother, told you not to develop
feelings for me, and then told you how restful you are."  He barked a
laugh.  "No wonder you're restful.  *I'm* the one doing the talking!"

He slapped the arms of the chair and stood.  "Thank you for the nice visit.
We didn't do too much talking about Dustin, did we?"

"Not much to tell.  Your supervisors have cleared your name at the Clinic.
That's all we can say for sure, right now.  As to whether he's making
mischief somewhere else, we don't yet know, but if we find he is
. . . we'll take care of that as the need arises."

Larry walked around his desk and rested an arm over Greg's shoulders as
they walked through the darkened house to the front door.

As they reached the door, Greg turned.  "May I give my attorney a hug?"
Larry stepped into the embrace, relaxing into Greg's strength and warmth.
He nuzzled Greg's dark hair, inhaling his scent.  The experience was
intoxicating.

For his part, Greg seemed to be as reluctant as Larry for the embrace to
end.  When they separated he swallowed once and gave Greg a crooked grin,
his dimples flashing and his eyes sparkling.

"That's what I call a hug."

Greg nodded slowly and patted Larry on the back.  "I enjoyed it as well."


----------


Dustin looked over his shoulder, convinced he was being followed.  During
the past week, life had become hell.  The guys on the baseball team he'd
been selling stuff to were nowhere to be found.  They should be climbing
the walls by now, screaming for him to deliver their pills, but they had
simply disappeared.  He'd even gone to their apartments, driven to
desperation by the demands of his supplier for money and to pick up the
scheduled assortment of drugs.  Their roommates didn't have a clue where
they had gone, and didn't seem particularly disturbed by their friends'
disappearance.

Hugh Benford's threatening telephone call claiming *he* had gotten him and
Morrison hooked had been playing over and over in Dustin's mind.  Benford
had claimed he was being followed, and shouted if he and his friend were
caught, they'd make sure Dustin would be as well.  He huffed a disgusted
laugh.  'Weakling,' he muttered, thinking of Benford's telephone call.  'No
backbone at all.  Always blaming other people for his own shortcomings.'
That's what he should have told Benford.

Still . . .  what if the guys *had* been followed and were now spilling
their guts to the police?  Dustin looked over his shoulder again, telling
himself he was imagining he was being followed.  The shadowy figures he
caught out of the corner of his eyes disappeared whenever he turned to
look.  Still, he wasn't convinced they weren't there.  He jumped as a
police car sped past with its siren screaming and lights flashing.

'Did that cop turn to look at me as they passed?'

He nervously called his supplier, cursing the shaking hand holding the
phone.  'I don't understand.'  When it became obvious there would be no
answer, he closed the phone and shoved it into a pocket.  'Even *they*
aren't answering their calls!'

Whenever he was angry, his thoughts, as always, returned to Curt.  '*He's*
probably sitting at home, or is out with one of his *boyfriends.*' Dustin
slammed the door to his parents' house and stalked through the kitchen to
his bedroom.  'Curt's always having a good time.  He's never had any
problems!  He's so *perfect* . . . driving around in that fancy car of his.
*He's* had all the breaks, and what's left for me?'

'I've always been the one who's ignored . . . the second son . . . second
best.'  The pillow he tossed across the room hit close to the place where
he had put his fist through the wall.  The sight of the ragged dark hole
made him even angrier.  The dull thud of the shoe he kicked across the room
as it hit the wall only served to inflame his temper further.

'Curt's the problem in my life.  I'll show 'im.'

He dumped any evidence of ever having had drugs in his room into a gym bag
he dug out of his closet, pleased with the plan to get his brother into
trouble, which was beginning to take shape.

He chuckled as he tossed some of Curt's clothes from his old room into the
bag.  'More evidence.'  The thought of getting Curt into trouble was almost
more satisfying than his scheme to get that foreign doctor at the clinic
into trouble.  He paused to wonder what had come of that scheme.  Some
unusual sounds from outside briefly caught his attention, but were easily
dismissed as the warm feeling of revenge recaptured his thoughts.

'I wonder what his boss'll think when he learns his star employee is a
druggie?'  The thought of Curt being called into the office and being
summarily fired was almost enough to make him chuckle in anticipation.
'Maybe the cops would like to know, too.'  He did a quick scan of his
bedroom, looking for any other evidence which needed to be removed, and was
whistling a tune as he left his room and walked down the hallway.

His mother was standing at the living room window with a frightened
expression on her face, looking at something through the large living room
window.  She turned to face him as he came into the room, tearing her eyes
from whatever was going on outside.

Her voice was hoarse.  "Dustin . . ."

The doorbell and a loud knocking, interrupted her from saying anything
more.  Next came a demanding voice.  "It's the police.  The house is
surrounded.  Anyone inside should immediately exit with their arms in the
air."

His mother's frightened eyes fixed first on the front door and the source
of the orders, before moving to his face.  She studied him for a moment and
then looked to the gym bag he dropped at his feet.  She brought her hand to
her mouth, muffling a pitiful squeak.

"Dustin . . . ?"

There was another loud rap on the door, followed by an even louder demand
to leave the house.  Dustin could see curious neighbors gathering across
the street, as well as a police officer making a useless attempt to shoo
them away.  He'd always hated those people.  He turned to his mother,
grinding his teeth in anger at her lack of support, as two more squad cars
arrived and disgorged their contents.

Dustin's lips curled with contempt as he watched his mother wring her
hands, looking from the still-closed door, to him.  'She should be doing
*something* to protect me!'

'If the police were here demanding Curt, she'd be doing everything she
could think of to protect *him!* Me, she throws to the dogs, the second son
. . . second best, not worth the effort to fight for.'

He hated how she finally, calmly turned her back on him and walked to the
front door of the house, pausing a moment as if steeling herself for what
was to come.  She straightened her back, brushed her fingers through her
hair and glanced over her shoulder with an unreadable expression, a
combination of resolve, pity, and farewell, and then turned the door knob.

"My son."  She paused, and started over.  "Only one other person and I are
home."  She slowly opened the screen door and stepped outside with her arms
in the air.

'Just like in the movies,' was Dustin's thought as she left the house.  He
could hear the murmur of the neighbors' voices, as well as his mother's
calm voice, presumably answering questions.  A moment later he saw her step
into a group of neighborhood women who escorted her away.  She paused a
moment and looked over her shoulder, back to the house, before turning
away, leaving him to his fate.

"Abandoned," Dustin muttered to himself, as he watched her walk away, a
moment before the screen door swung open and two armed police officers
jumped into the living room with drawn weapons.  He bowed his head as the
officers grabbed his limply hanging arms and began reading him his rights.

'Just like in the movies . . ."


----------


Larry retraced his steps to his dimly lit office, standing a moment and
running his fingertips over the back of the chair where Greg had been
sitting.  He fancied he could still feel the warmth of Greg's body
suffusing the leather.  He sighed, turned out the desk light, and sank into
the warmth of his large leather desk chair, and began idly rotating from
side to side in silence.

He could still feel the strength of Greg's embrace.  During that brief
time, as Greg rested his head on Larry's shoulder, their bodies had molded
to one another.  It felt so good to be held like that, a fantasy finally
fulfilled.  When he'd been seeing Andrew, the hugs were frequent, but brief
. . . never really satisfying.  He had just gotten out of a loveless
marriage, and felt any hug was better than the cold indifference he'd
experienced from his wife for close to eighteen years.  To Andrew, the
physical contact was taken for granted, something he did without thinking
. . . like breathing . . . or blinking, unimportant precisely because he
did it so often.

Brad . . . sensitive Brad.  Larry bowed his head and massaged the back of
his neck.  Brad is wonderful.  He's everything a man could ask for in a
partner.  But, he's in love with someone else . . . with Curt.  Each time
he and Brad embraced, Larry was left wondering if part of Brad's mind was
wishing he was holding Curt.  Long ago, Larry admitted to himself that he
loved Brad.  That's why it hurt so badly each time Brad got that distant
look in his eyes.  It was a situation which was not good for him, and he
felt certain even less so for a sensitive soul like Brad.

When Greg held him in his arms though, things felt . . . right.  The
experience was almost orgasmic in its intensity.  Unlike Brad, he was
positive Greg wasn't dreaming of someone else.  A hug meant something to
him, Larry was sure of it. There was an unspoken promise that a hug from
Greg was only a prelude to something greater, deeper, and more meaningful
than anything he'd ever experienced.

He continued the slow side to side swinging of the chair with his head
bowed.  'Brad, Greg . . . work.'  He heaved a sigh.  'I love Brad.  I know
he continues to love Curt, but Curt and Greg are seeing one another.  My
thoughts about Greg may only be wishful thinking.  The one true, *known* in
my life is my unhappiness at work.'

The offer of a partnership in the new law firm, across the elevator lobby
from where he presently worked, was looking better each time he stepped
past the glass doors and into the hermetically sealed confines of his job.
The atmosphere, always conservative, had become stifling.  No one smiled;
no one was pleasant to be around.  They were all too busy trying not to
look over their shoulders to see who was watching them, wondering when the
ax would fall, and they would be taken aside and asked to leave.

His secretary, his staff, everyone he felt responsible for, had been
offered a position at the new firm.  They were all waiting for him to make
a decision.  It seemed as if his entire life was in limbo.  He needed to
move on, with his job, his relationship . . . everything.  Dreaming about
the possibilities with Greg served no purpose other than to make him feel
terrible, yet he couldn't help but think that Greg *already* felt something
for him.  A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought of the
possibilities.


----------


Phalen and Jeff rolled across the bed in one of the first carefree moments
they'd had together in weeks.  Greg was out of the house, visiting Larry,
and they were free to make all the noise they wanted.

"Ah ha," Phalen crowed, rolling to a position astride Jeff's waist, his
arms raised in victory.  Both men were breathing heavily, sweaty after the
time they'd spent wrestling.  "I win again!  Will you never learn?"  He
squirmed slightly from side to side, thrilled with the feeling of Jeff
beneath him.  "Just 'cause you're the big man, doesn't mean you can beat a
true athlete like me."  He giggled and flexed the muscles of his arms at
the same time he squirmed slightly, feeling Jeff's erection brush against
him.  At some unseen signal, both men's laughter faded, to be replaced by a
longing for one another.  It had been too long since they had been able to
laugh . . . and to make love.  Phalen's preoccupation with what was
happening at school, as much as first Brad and then Greg, living in the
next room, had inhibited them.  Tonight they were free.

This time it began with a simple touch.  Phalen reached out and lightly
brushed his fingertips over the hair on Jeff's chest, pausing a second over
one nipple, then the other, teasing them to firmness.  Beneath him, Jeff
closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, his mouth open as he took deep
breaths.

Phalen smiled to himself.  It was only recently that Jeff had become able
to abandon himself fully to their lovemaking.  There was no more hesitancy,
no more cold sweats as memories of his past intruded on their time
together.

'Someday,' Phalen thought, 'Jeff will be able to clear the last hurdle, and
allow himself to be fucked.'  He looked at the man he loved and knew that
if that time never arrived, he would love Jeff no less than he did at the
moment.

He reached out and traced two fingertips over Jeff's jaw and then over his
chin and lips.  "Suck them," he urged in a voice not much more than a
murmur.  Jeff opened his mouth, accepting the fingers.

"Great tongue," Phalen murmured.  "Wanna use it on my butt hole?"  He slid
forward slightly, and then backward, feeling the hair on Jeff's belly begin
to tickle his ass hole.  Jeff made a slight groaning sound, deep in his
throat, along with a slight nod of his head.

He stood with his feet on either side of Jeff's shoulders, looking down at
his pale skin.  The dark spread of chest hair tapered to a narrow line as
it crossed his navel and then spread out to form a thick pubic patch,
framing a pulsing erection.

Phalen's hairless testicles and thick penis hung within Jeff's reach, and
were, like always, producing prodigious amounts of precum.  As Jeff
watched, a long clear strand extended and dropped onto his chest with a
warm plop.

He ran the fingers of one hand over Phalen's perineum, finally teasing his
anus, feeling it tighten and relax.  He loved that feeling, almost as much
as the erotic tremor his touch caused.

"Wanna lick it," Phalen asked, watching Jeff tease his own erection.  Jeff
continued to rub his fingertips over the rubbery opening, murmuring
encouragement.

"C'mon, lover."

"Sure?"  Jeff licked his lips and answered with a slight nod.

In response, Phalen began lowering himself onto Jeff's face in slow motion,
the strong muscles of his legs flexing as his butt cheeks spread, exposing
his hole to the waiting tongue.

At the first touch, Jeff groaned slightly and lapped across the smooth
hole, still sweaty from their wrestling.  Phalen began to masturbate
himself, bouncing slightly and rocking back and forth as he tried to
embrace Jeff's tongue.

Lovemaking for the two of them usually began with a tender caress,
whispered words and soft sighs, but escalated quickly to something more
demanding and more aggressive.  Both men enjoyed being vocal, and had felt
constrained, first by Brad's staying with them, and then Greg.  It was
wonderfully erotic to once again hear Phalen's unrestrained groans and
demands for Jeff to fuck him with his tongue.

He penetrated the tight hole, then lapped his tongue in a broad swath
across the pulsing opening as Phalen twisted and turned.  The feeling of
Phalen's low hanging testicles brushing over his chin and the sounds of his
labored breathing and wet rhythmic stroking of his cock pushed Jeff to the
brink of orgasm.  He reached up with one hand and pulled Phalen closer,
burying his tongue deeply into the spit-slick hole at the precise moment
Phalen shouted and squirted the first stream of sperm in a line down Jeff's
chest to his navel.

Jeff squirmed and arched his back, at the touch of the burning hot liquid,
his tongue still trapped.  A second hot splash of sperm on his chest
followed Phalen's second shout, finally pushing Jeff over the edge.  He dug
his heels into the bed, squeezed his penis, and arched his back, as his own
sperm joined that of Phalen's.  One shot . . . two.  The third happened at
the same time he lapped across Phalen's hole once more.

By now, Phalen was bracing himself with an extended arm against the
headboard of the bed.  When Jeff relaxed, Phalen rolled onto his back at
Jeff's side.

"Oh, geez.  That was friggin' fantastic." He squirmed slightly.  "I think
I'm gonna feel that for the rest of the night."  He leaned close and kissed
Jeff's pleasantly satisfied smile.

When Phalen backed away, Jeff opened his mouth and wiggled his tongue.  "Me
too."  He gave Phalen a mock scowl.  "If you'd lasted much longer though, I
would have gotten a tongue cramp."  Phalen giggled and playfully pushed
him.  "Verrrry painful," Jeff teased.  "But worth it," he added with a
mischievous look and then smacked his lips and smiled.

Once again, Phalen playfully pushed at him and then rolled onto his hands
and knees and began slurping up the liquefying puddles of sperm on Jeff's
chest, belly and pubes, finishing with a single lap of his tongue over the
tip of Jeff's softening penis.

He glanced at Jeff and winked, smacking his lips before once again falling
onto his back.

"There's more protein in that stuff than in a slab of beef."  His laughter
was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, signaling Greg's
return from Larry's.

"Finished just in time," he murmured.  "We wouldn't want him to hear you."
He nudged Jeff.  "You're so loud, ya know."  He giggled as he rolled onto
his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows, smiling at Jeff, who was
having difficulty remaining awake.

"Me?"  He yawned and reached out to pull Phalen closer.  "I wouldn't be
surprised if your shouting was the cause of Greg coming home.  He and Larry
probably heard it all the way over there."  Phalen scooted closer, resting
his head on Jeff's chest, seemingly lost in thought.

"I like having the old Phalen back."  Jeff ran his fingers through Phalen's
hair.  "He's much more fun to be around than the guy who has been staying
here for the past months."

Since there was no response other than the steady breaths on the hair of
his chest, he thought perhaps Phalen had fallen asleep.  Finally, Phalen
sighed deeply.

"The old Phalen isn't completely back yet.  There is still stuff I'm
worried about."  He propped himself up once more and grinned.  "I find the
old Phalen a lot more fun to be around too.  I'm glad you're giving him
room to find his way back."

He gave Jeff a quick kiss and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp.

"G'night, big man," he murmured as he turned on his side and scooted back
against Jeff.

"G'night, lover."  For a moment there was no sound other than that of the
distant traffic noise and night time insects.  "Welcome back."


----------


Greg winced as the front door to Jeff's house beeped, signaling his return.
He gently closed the front door, noticing the thin sliver of light beneath
the door to Jeff and Phalen's bedroom, as well as the subdued sounds coming
from the room.  He kicked off his sandals and wandered barefoot toward the
backyard patio, but stopped short of opening one of the doors, lest it
cause another series of warning beeps.

Rather than going outside, he flopped onto one of the living room sofas,
sprawling along its length.  He threw his left leg over the back of the
sofa and laid his right leg on the polished glass top of the nearby coffee
table, closing his eyes and snuggling into the pillow cushion.

He slowly ran the open palm of one hand across his chest, pausing a moment
as he passed over one of his sensitive nipples.  His meeting with Larry had
left him feeling confused.  Larry was involved with Brad.  *He* was seeing
Curt.  So *why* did a tingly feeling spread through his groin when he felt
Larry nuzzle his hair during their hug?  He laid an arm over his eyes and
silently groaned to himself.

'Maybe I'm just horny."  He huffed a silent laugh and then yawned.  'Seems
as if I'm always horny. . . or tired.'  He closed his eyes enjoying the
silence of the house.  'I think tonight, sleep will win-out over being
horny.'  He yawned once again.

'I wonder what Curt's doing tonight.'



~ to be continued ~



Thank you for taking the time to read my work.  I *always* welcome your
email and enjoy hearing your thoughts.  If you would like me to send a pic
of the character(s), please ask.

In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may
want to read.  'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College
Section.  The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult
Relationships section.  I hope you enjoy them all.

Best wishes,

Roy Reinikainen
roynm@mac.com
suomalainen_abq@mac.com