Date: Thu, 18 Jan 2007 20:06:30 -0800
From: qwb <qwb@san.rr.com>
Subject: Stonegate Stables ch 32

Author's note -
     Months ago I sent a short story to MEN magazine. They
bought it from me, and it is now on newsstands in the Feb
issue. It's called The Stoker, and it's actually chapter 1
of my next long story. I'll begin to post it here and on
RCWP after Stonegate wraps up, which will be several more
chapters from now. Due to an upcoming move and too much to
do at work, I'll be posting every two weeks.
           Many thanks to everyone who enjoys this
story and lets me know.


Stonegate Stables

Chapter 32


Early on the first day of the trial the three of us climbed
into the car I'd hired.  The federal courthouse was an hour
away, and I didn't want us to have to cope with our emotions
and traffic by driving ourselves.  I'd thought about taking
hotel rooms for a few days, but the comforting familiarity
of our own home seemed like a better idea.

Despite knowing that Ray would be in the courtroom with us,
it was still a shock for Matt and Vincent when he was led
in.  Matt glanced at him and quickly looked back at me for
reassurance, his eyes wide and frightened.  I put him
between Vincent and me, holding his sweaty hand, and wishing
irrationally that Ray had somehow died before this ever came
to trial.

Vincent stared him down, holding his gaze until Ray looked
away.  There was a fierce resolve in Vincent that I'd never
felt from him before. From the moment we'd awakened that
morning, he had been focused and intent.  He was sweet to
me, knowing that I was dreading this, but he was distant,
and I knew his thoughts were elsewhere.

I'd never seen Ray before, and I was struck by how ordinary
he appeared until he met my eyes. His cold, flat stare
prickled the hairs on my arms, and I studied his face,
wondering at a person who could do the things I knew he'd
done. I reached across Matt for Vincent's hand, praying that
the trial went quickly and smoothly, so that we could get
back to our lives.

The three of us sat there, taking comfort from each other
and waiting for things to get started, when I felt a hard
hand settle onto my shoulder.  Jesse's face appeared between
Matt and me, hugging us together so that our faces pressed
to his.  Having him there was a huge relief.  I knew that
Ray couldn't get to us, but Jesse's solid, capable, kick-ass
presence was just what we needed.

"Thank you," I whispered to him.  He gripped my
shoulder more firmly for a second, and then shifted over to
talk to Vincent.  I watched relief flood across Vincent's
face, and I felt that twinge of jealousy that comes from
knowing - no matter how much you love someone - that you
simply cannot be everything they need.

Adam was not in the courtroom at Matt's request. A few days
before, I'd told Matt that Adam could ride with us, but Matt
said he wasn't coming.  I looked at Matt questioningly until
he finally replied.

"I just don't want him there.  I've told him a lot about
what happened to me before, but I don't want him to hear it
all again - like that."  So it was just the three of us, and
Jesse.

The morning passed slowly as we listened to judge's
instructions and opening remarks from both prosecution and
defense.  I watched the defense lawyer, wondering what Ray
could possibly have said that would make him sound innocent.

At one point the DA began talking about a man who had been a
victim as a child, and fifteen years later, had been
instrumental in Ray's arrest.  I suddenly realized he was
talking about Vincent, and turned to him as he took a deep
breath, his jaw tight.

They called Vincent's name halfway through the second day.
He squeezed my leg briefly, and took the witness stand,
speaking calmly as the DA ran him through events leading up
to the night he'd met Ray.

The defense attorney voiced a barrage of objections about
the DA leading the witness. Some intense arguments between
the DA, the desperate defense attorney, and the judge
ensued, and after the judge threatened the defense attorney
with contempt, things calmed down.

As Vincent began to describe how Ray grabbed him into the
car that first night - a skinny seventeen-year-old
struggling against a grown man who outweighed him by fifty
pounds - his voice tightened perceptibly.

He paused when he came to the physical details of the rape,
and I could see him gathering himself for the horrors that
lay ahead.  I watched as he described in excruciating detail
how Ray had torn him open, and then left him bruised and
bloody on a street corner at three in the morning.  I felt
light-headed and hollow as Vincent told about bleeding for
three days, too terrified and ashamed to tell anyone,
wrapping his bloody underwear in newspaper before stuffing
it in the bottom of the garbage can.

Hearing what I knew to be an act of brutal violence reduced
to clinical, courtroomacceptable terms such as 'erection'
and 'anus,' somehow made it even more awful, if that was
possible.  I glanced at the jury; each of them was riveted
to Vincent's face, their expressions showing various stages
of revulsion and disgust. I wondered for a moment if that
was due to the homosexual nature of the rape, or simply
because it was an act of violence against a boy not unlike
some of their own children.

The DA moved on to the point in time when Vincent broke off
his relationship with Ray, asking him what had been his
motivation to make the break.  Vincent had been looking at
the DA, but now he turned to me and locked onto my eyes.

"I met someone and fell in love.  I knew then that I had to
get away."

I stared at Vincent as a smile spread across my face.
Knowing that he loved me was one thing; hearing him announce
it in a courtroom full of strangers, with a court reporter
taking it all down word for word, was quite another.  He
held my gaze for a long, intense moment before turning his
attention back to the DA.

Vincent went on to describe the day he was attacked at our
house.  Ray and two of his guys had jumped him as he let
himself in the side door from the garage.  They'd ripped his
clothes off as they dragged him down the hall.  At this
point Vincent's torn shirt was held up as an exhibit.  I
looked at it, vividly remembering that day I'd found it at
the bottom of the stairs and realized something was truly
wrong with Vincent.

As Vincent described his injuries from that day, slides were
shown on a large screen.  The first one was of Vincent's
wrists, deeply scored and bleeding from the yellow rope that
had been embedded in his flesh.  The second one was a photo
of his back, marked with the oozing black burns.  The third
one was a close-up of the worse burn, seared a quarter inch
deep into his body; the skin crisp, black, and curling
around the edges.  As I looked at those larger-thanlife
pictures, the horror of that afternoon swept over me.

"Oh, God," I moaned softly as Matt stared at the screen in
sick fascination.  He'd heard the story from Vincent while
they were still in Dallas, but the photos were graphic
evidence of just how bad it had been.  Matt began to shake,
and I struggled to get myself under control so that I could
comfort him.  Jesse clamped a hand on the back of my neck,
and wrapped his other arm around Matt with his hand spread
over Matty's chest.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the warmth of his firm
grip, and after a moment, it was enough
to steady me.  Matt had turned to rest his head on Jesse's
arm, and seemed to be calming down a little.  As I looked at
his pale, shaken expression, I began to get very concerned
over how he would cope when it was his turn in the witness
box.

Vincent was on the stand for four solid hours. The defense
attorney never interrupted his testimony again and I
listened to every word Vincent said.  He spoke of the
aftermath of the attack, how it had affected him
emotionally, how it began to erode our relationship.
Watching him relive the worse days of his life changed
something in me.  As I listened to Vincent tell his sordid
tale, listened to the tremor in his voice, I began to hate
Ray with a smoldering intensity I hadn't thought I
possessed.  No matter what punishment he was given, it
wouldn't be enough to atone for the atrocities he had
inflicted on the man I loved.

When the now subdued defense attorney was finished with
Vincent, he stood up and took a long slow look at every
person in the jury box. Then he turned to stare at Ray for a
moment before looking away in disgust.  He sat back down
next to Matt, but reached across him to grip my hand hard.

Vincent was quiet on the drive home, staring out the window,
lost in thought.  Matt wasn't in much better shape, sitting
close to me with my arm across his shoulders.  Adam met us
at the house, hugging Matt wordlessly as we went into
dinner.  Maria had come back for the evening to take care of
us, quietly serving us beef stew and warm homemade bread
with apple pie for desert.  Comfort food meant to take our
minds off our troubles.

Vincent barely spoke through supper, and afterward he led me
past the den straight up to our room.  His face was tired
and sad as he undressed and crawled under the covers.  We
curled up together, letting the closeness of our bodies work
its magic on our damaged spirits.

He was silent for a long time, and then he finally whispered
to me, "Tell me that you still love me after hearing that
filth today."

"Oh, Vincent - I love you."  I nuzzled into him as he
crushed me to him.  "I love you."  He was trembling, and I
tried to wrap myself around him, rolling onto him when he
turned onto his back.  "I will always love you."

We lay there a long time, our bodies touching from face to
toes, and Vincent gradually relaxed.  I dozed a little bit,
but woke to the pressure of Vincent's cock hardening into my
belly.

I raised my head.  It was dark now, but the moon was full,
and in its milky light I could see
Vincent looking at me, his dark eyes troubled.

"I need you, Sean."  His voice was low and thick with
desire, and it surged through me, ending in a burst of heat
in my crotch.

As he spoke, his erection throbbed between us.
I sat up and straddled his hips, trapping his cock behind me
so that it pressed along the cleft of my ass.  I rose and
fell just enough to drag the head of his dick across my
hole, and it wasn't long before we were both precum-slick
and breathing hard.

I braced my hands on either side of Vincent's shoulders and
kissed him deeply as he reached between my legs to slide a
finger into me.  I shuddered with pleasure when he pumped it
a few times.  With his other hand, he reached under me to
grasp the base of his cock.  He began to push it slowly into
me alongside his steadily pumping finger, and I arched my
back as the sensations intensified.

We never broke eye contact as the full length of him eased
home.  At some point, he'd removed his finger, and now I
could feel the veins and ridges of his penis as he moved
ever so slowly back out of me.  With just the head of his
cock in my ass, I leaned down and kissed him.

I've kissed Vincent in so many different ways, times, moods,
and settings that I would have sworn I knew his mouth as
well as I knew my own, but this kiss was different.  Hungry,
passionate, a little desperate - it was full of the tension
of the day, and the relief of being alone together, safe in
our bed, connected as intimately as we could possibly be. As
we kissed, he slid back into me, so that the kiss ended with
us moaning into each other's mouths, almost vibrating with
desire.

We stayed like that for a long time, moving slowly against
each other, kissing, saying 'I love you' into the hush of
the night.  Vincent touched my face often, his warm palm
pressed to my cheek, his gentle finger tracing the line of
my jaw.  His nipples hardened under my hands as I rubbed his
chest, and his cock danced inside me when I lightly pinched
one.  Then he caught my wrists, pulling me down to lay flat
on him. His heart thudded against my ribs, beating out the
rhythm of his increasing arousal.

I began to feel like I could stay there forever - Vincent
buried deep, our hands and mouths on one another.  We've
made love in all manner of ways in the years since we'd met
- slow and loving; rowdy and noisy; sweet and playful;
bruising and a little mean.  All had their particular charms
at the time, but gradually I realized that tonight was
something we'd never experienced together.  Tonight our
aching souls were finding solace in the joining of our
bodies.

Suddenly he began to thrust strongly into me.
He gripped my hips with steely fingers, slamming me down
onto him as his breathing changed from the hard pants of
excitement to the beginning gasps of tears.  As he began to
climax, he finally started to cry - three hard, choking sobs
that held all the hurt and fear and outrage that he still
carried with him.  I held him tight, and soon he quieted to
shuddery breaths that blew warm and moist against my neck.

"Jesus," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.  "It
frightens me how much I need you."

"Go to sleep, sweetheart.  I'll be right here. I'll always
be right here."

I kissed him and wiped the tears from his face as he rolled
onto his side and backed into me. For one of the few times
in our relationship, we fell asleep with me holding him.  My
right arm was under his neck, and my left was wrapped around
him with my hand on his chest.  As he started to drift off,
he took my wrist and slid my hand down his belly to cup his
testicles.  He kept his hand over mine, pressed firmly into
him, until sleep took him.

I lay awake for a long time, listening to him breathe,
feeling his body relax against me. Until now, I had always
felt as though I needed Vincent more than he needed me, an
imbalance common to most relationships, I suppose.  But
tonight, kissing him, looking into his eyes as he pumped
slowly into me, I knew that he needed me just as much.  I
brushed my mouth over the back of his neck, breathing him
in, before letting myself drift away.

I woke at 3am, suddenly aware that something wasn't right.
Vincent was breathing peacefully as I eased out of bed,
dragged on shorts, and stepped into the hall.  The door to
the guest room was open, so I walked silently to the end of
the hall and peeked in.  Adam was alone in the bed, sleeping
as deeply as Vincent.

I backtracked to Matt's room, but it was empty. Concerned
now, I trotted down the stairs, and padded along the hall to
the den.  He was there, huddled under a quilt in his
favorite chair.  He lifted his head when I came into the
room, but didn't say anything, just watched me with haunted
eyes.  I brought him to his feet and into my arms, hugging
him until he relaxed a little.  Then I led him back upstairs
to our room.

Vincent woke up when Matt slipped under the covers, pulling
him close as I put my arm over them both.  None of us spoke,
we just held each other, nuzzling and kissing a little until
we dozed off.  I left our door open so that Adam could find
Matt if he woke up before we did.

When we got up at seven, Adam was gone, watching over things
at the barn while I was tied up with the trial.  Matt
showered with us before going to his own room to dress.  He
was quiet, but returned my encouraging smile as we ate
breakfast.

We made it through the next two days by spending pretty much
every moment together.  I don't know what Matt said to Adam,
but the second night he was there to greet Matt when we got
home, and then left after supper.  Matt stayed close to
Vincent or me in the evenings, watching when one of us left
the room, keeping a hand on whichever of us he was sitting
with.  It was reminiscent of his first few weeks with us
when he needed all the love and reassurance we could
provide. At night, we all climbed into our big bed, arms and
legs over one another.  There was no sex after that first
night between Vincent and me we simply needed to be
together.

Witnesses came and went as the evidence mounted against Ray
with every word.  The judge never allowed the defense
attorney too much latitude with his objections or his cross
examinations.

After lunch on the fourth day of the trial, they called
Matt's name.  He looked at me before he stood up.  "I love
you, and I'm right here," I told him.  Vincent hugged him,
and then he was alone in the witness box.

The DA was careful with Matt, but having to go through it
all in public was horrible for him. As he told about one of
his foster fathers coming into his bedroom at night for the
first time when he was all of eleven years old, his eyes
filled.  The next time he blinked, a fat tear spilled over,
trickling down his cheek until it dripped off his chin.  He
never broke into sobs, but he never stopped crying either,
wiping his cheeks now and then with a trembling hand until
the judge motioned to the clerk to hand him a box of
tissues.

It was almost impossible for me to watch, and the only thing
that kept me from leaping over the rail was Vincent's arm
across my shoulders. He gripped my upper arm firmly, holding
me close to his side for two and a half hours until the DA
and the defense attorney were finally finished with Matty.

It was late afternoon, so the judge recessed court for the
day.  We took Matt straight to the car, huddling together in
the back seat as the driver sped us homeward.  Matt sat with
his eyes closed, leaning into Vincent as I held his hand and
talked softly to him.  He didn't speak for a long time, and
I was starting to get worried when he sat up a little and
sighed.

"Fuck," he said, in a tone of such relief that I had to
smile.  "I'm sure glad that's over."

He settled back against Vincent's body with his eyes closed,
and I wondered if this would have a lasting effect on him.

As usual, Adam was waiting for us when we got home.  Matt
climbed out of the car into Adam's arms, and they walked
into the house.  Vincent watched the driver pull back into
the lane, and then turned to me.

"You okay?"

I nodded.  "Yeah, but I just want it over so badly."

He sighed as he gathered me into his arms.  "You and me
both, baby."

The trial lasted a little over two weeks.  We didn't attend
again until the last day.  It was weird knowing that it was
going on without us, but we tried to get back to everyday
life.  When Danny came out to shoe that next Tuesday, I held
horses for him, simply because I couldn't really concentrate
on paperwork with any accuracy. After he finished the third
horse, he turned to me.

"You're pretty upset, huh?"

I looked at him.  Of course I was upset, and he knew that,
so I figured he had something else in mind.  "What makes you
think so?"

"You ain't looked at my ass once all day."  He grinned as he
said it, and it made me happy that he could joke about
something that used to make him uncomfortable.

"You're right - I don't know what the fuck's the matter with
me.  Turn around."

I grabbed his arm, and he wrestled away, but I got a hand on
him again, and this time I pulled him to me.  As soon as he
realized that I was coming apart, he stopped fooling around
and wrapped his strong arms around me.  As he held on, I
fought the rush of relief that surged through me, exhaling
hard and sucking it back in before it could turn into sobs.
After a few minutes, I was okay and pulled away from him a
little.  He eyed me before dropping his arms and stepping
back.

"Thanks."  I waved my hand at all the emotion hanging in the
air.  "Sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout it.  You been there for me a couple times
now."  He picked up his box of rasps and nails, and added,
"Got another horse for me?"

We went back to work, and when we were finished, I talked
him into coming back to the house for dinner.  As we were
about to leave, Gabriel
jogged over to my car.

"Damn it, I meant to catch you before you left. We got an
offer on Barney."

That was good news and I wanted to talk it over with him,
but Danny was idling in his truck behind me and Vincent had
dinner warming in the oven.  "Get in," I said, pushing the
door open on his side.  "You can tell me over dinner."

Matt grabbed two more plates from the cupboard, Vincent
pulled a big pan of manicotti from the oven, and the five of
us dug in.  Gabriel was excited over the prospect of
adopting out our first rescue, and he talked all through
dinner about the family who first saw Barney when they came
out to pet the donkeys.  They had a daughter who was ready
to move up from her aging pony, and they thought Barney
might be the horse.

Gabriel thought so, too, and his excitement was contagious.
Danny watched him with a smile, and during a lull in the
conversation, volunteered three free shoeings for every
rescue horse that got adopted.  Gabriel clapped a hand on
his shoulder, giving him a shake as he said, "That's great,
thanks.  Can you make me a certificate or something that I
can give to them with the final paperwork?"

"Uh, not really," Danny replied, looking like he wished he
hadn't opened his mouth.  "I do horses, not computers."

"I'll make one up," Matt said, "I like doing that kind of
stuff."

We finished the evening with chocolate ‚clairs and coffee in
the den.  Danny was beginning to feel at home with us,
kicking off his boots without being urged, and returning the
touches and hugs Vincent and I gave him.

Matt was affectionate with him also, greeting him with a hug
and a kiss on the cheek whenever he came to the house.  Matt
was a sweetie, but he usually reserved the physical stuff
for Adam, Vincent, and me.  I don't know if he sensed some
need in Danny, or simply liked him enough to give a little
more of himself.  In any case, Danny enjoyed it, smiling
every time one of us touched him.

"I'll give you a ride back to the barn," I said, when
Gabriel stood to go.

"I can drop him off," Danny offered in a casual tone.

I glanced at him, and he met my eyes for a second before
looking down to pull on his boots. I turned back to Gabriel.

"That okay with you?"

"Sure.  I don't care how I get there," he chuckled.  "See
you tomorrow."

I watched them leave with a thoughtful expression.

That weekend we stayed around the house.  The weather was
nice, so we spent the afternoons by the pool, browning
slowly in the warm Texas sun.

Saturday morning when Katie came over, she took her cue from
our quiet moods and stayed close to Matt.  She left the
house early, and showed up a couple hours later riding Zena
and ponying Chex. She and Matt rode in the late afternoon,
heading down to the stream to wade and play horseback tag in
the meadow.

Sunday morning we were sitting around the kitchen, working
on our first cups of coffee, and deciding what to make for
breakfast.  Katie was subdued, and as she and I were
chopping vegetables for an omelet, I asked her if something
was on her mind.  She glanced back at Matt, and then turned
to me.

"I wanna ask Matt to my prom, but I don't think he knows how
to dance."

I flashed back to Matt grinding around the dance floor in
Amarillo, shimmying up behind TJ with his shirt off, his
slender body slick with sweat.  That started to give me a
hard-on, so I pushed the thought away, and it wasn't the
kind of dancing Katie was referring to anyway.

"Uh . . . Matt can dance.  Fast, anyway.  I'm not sure about
slow dancing, waltzing, or any of that stuff.  But Vincent
and I can teach him. Actually, that'll be fun - go ask him."

She did, he said 'yes,' and we spent the morning dancing in
the den.  Matt liked to dance and picked up slow dancing
quickly, twirling Katie past the piano as she laughed up at
him.  We taught them a few fancy moves, including a dip at
the end, which Matt did with a flourish, swooping Katie so
far down that her hair brushed the floor.

Then we waltzed, a dance I love, but one that neither Katie
nor Matt knew.  I danced with Katie, and Vincent with Matt,
until they understood the steps, then we switched partners.
Waltzing slowly around the den in Vincent's arms was lovely.
We smiled into each other's eyes, our hands clasped
together, his arm warm across my back.  I'd forgotten how
much I enjoyed dancing with him, and smiled a thank you at
Katie.

After they ran off to swim, Vincent put on a Frank Sinatra
CD.  He held me close, his leg
between mine, and thrust slowly along my thigh as we moved
around the room.  By the second lap, we were both hard and
breathing heavier than the dancing accounted for.  He swung
us by the door, locking it with one hand as he slid the
other down my back to hold me tight.

Still moving slowly in place, he began to undress me, which
didn't take long since I was wearing only boxers and a
tshirt.  As he dragged my shorts down, he sank to his knees
between my feet, and began to lick and kiss and chew his way
up my left thigh.  My hands settled onto his shoulders, and
I watched as he neared my balls. A big drop of precum welled
from my slit as he opened wide and sucked them into the wet
heat of his mouth.

After a moment, I pulled free and joined him on the floor,
pulling him onto me as I lay down.
As our cocks bumped together, I shut my eyes and
concentrated on Vincent.  He had worked up a light sweat
from dancing, and the taste of him as I mouthed his neck
made me a little crazy. When I growled into his ear, he
began to thrust more quickly.

In a strained voice he muttered, "I hope you're close, cause
I'm gone."

With that he ground his cock into my belly and pumped out
hot spurts of thick, fragrant cum.
As it bathed my dick in slippery warmth, I arched back into
the carpet with a groaning shudder.  We were pressed so
tightly together that my cum squished out sideways and
trickled down my side.

Vincent slid - literally - off me and we lay there until our
respiration returned to normal. Finally, he got to his feet
and tugged me up with both hands.

"You're a fucking mess," he laughed, running a finger up the
long streak of cum trailing down my leg.  I unlocked the
door, and stuck my head out into the hall to make sure the
coast was clear.  We dashed upstairs, giggling the whole
way, and scrubbed each other clean in the shower.  It was a
wonderful start to the day.

The next Tuesday, Danny came home for dinner without too
much coaxing, and I hoped it would just become an automatic
thing.  It was really satisfying to me to watch him become
more and more comfortable with the knowledge that he was
gay.  We have a subscription to Men magazine, and that
evening Danny picked up the current issue and thumbed
through it while we were sitting around the den.  I watched
his face as he examined the photos, smiling to myself when
one eyebrow went up a notch, or he shifted a few times in
his chair.  Finally, he shoved a hand down his jeans for a
quick adjustment, rolling his eyes at me as he did so.

"I never seen this on the rack down to the Food Mart," he
commented as he lay it back on the table.

"No shit!"  Vincent snorted.  "That's probably the only copy
between here and Dallas."

I always hugged Danny when he went home, and tonight, for
the first time, he reached for me first as we neared the
door.  As I stepped into his embrace, he put his cheek next
to mine and spoke softly near my ear.

"I gotta thank you for keeping after me.  I never woulda got
here by myself."

I hugged him tighter.  "My pleasure.  I figured it had to be
better than what you were going through that day."

"Yeah.  Still gotta tell my old man, but if he don't like
it, tough."

He sighed, kissed me goodbye, and headed back to his small
apartment on the edge of town.  I wandered back to the den,
tugged the book from Vincent's hand, and crawled onto him.
He regarded me somberly for a moment through his reading
glasses before taking them off and laying them on the coffee
table.  He scooched down so that our faces were even, shoved
his leg between mine, and kissed me until I forgot
completely about anything except the feel of his hand on my
ass and his tongue down my throat.


On the day of sentencing, we made a show of force - all of
our friends and family filed into the courtroom, filling two
rows.  My folks and Vincent's were there, along with Paula,
Jack, and Katie.  But I got a real surprise when a guy in a
dark suit slid in next to Wade.  He caught my eye with a
wink, and I realized with a jolt that it was Danny.  He
looked wonderful - his dark hair slicked back, his suit coat
enhancing his shoulders - and I gave him a warm smile.

Just as I turned away from Danny, I saw Amanda step into the
room.  She was dressed in a dark pink suit, cut to emphasize
her figure, and every man in the room watched her sashay
down the aisle.  She stepped into the row behind us, moving
past Danny, Wade, Cody, and Gabriel to sit behind us.  She
leaned forward and whispered, "I bought this suit just for
today. Perfect color, huh?"

I agreed that it was.

When the jury filed back in, every single one of them looked
to where Matt, Vincent, and I were sitting.  I knew that was
a good sign, and sure enough, Ray was convicted - multiple
sentences of forty to life with no possibility of parole. He
would die in prison.

Everyone came back to our place for a celebration.  We
opened bottles of champagne and drank to the criminal
justice system.  Maria had gone all out with plates, bowls,
and trays of food all over the kitchen, so we took off our
jackets, loosened our ties, and had a drink. Katie and her
folks hung around until my parents left, followed soon after
by Vincent's parents, and then it was just us boys.

By seven that evening, we were sprawled around the den in
various stages of inebriation and undress.  Matt was the
only one sober, and he was curled up in his chair with a
sketch pad on his knee, drawing god knows what, wearing only
his socks, his boxer briefs, and his dress shirt, unbuttoned
halfway down his chest.

Several of us - Vincent, Danny, TJ, Jesse, Ben, and me - had
gotten down to our undershirts and slacks, and were
barefoot.  I was laid out on the couch with my head in TJ's
lap and my feet in Vincent's.  He had his hand up my pant
leg, and was gently stroking the soft skin behind my knee.
Now and then he'd increase the pressure for a second and I'd
glance at him.  He'd hold my gaze for a moment before
smiling at me.
Every time he did that, my chest tightened, and I had to
breathe deeply a few times to keep from choking up.

Danny was sitting on the floor with his back against the
couch near my hip.  My hand was dropped onto his chest, and
I had tucked two fingers inside the neck of his undershirt,
curling them through his chest hair.  He was holding my
wrist snugly, dropping his chin to rest it on my arm now and
then.  Everyone else was in a chair or on the floor, singly
and in pairs.

We had gone through all of Maria's food by that point, and
had ordered five large pizzas.  When they arrived, we sent
Matt to the door in his shirt and shorts.  He came back with
the pizzas and a grin, handing Wade back his twenties.

"Pizza guy said 'congratulations' from the manager."

We switched to soda and iced tea, made short work of the
pizzas, and by ten everyone, including Adam, was sober
enough to drive home safely.

Matt, Vincent, and I walked upstairs holding hands, and
climbed into bed together.  I knew I needed to talk to Matt
about what was going on with him and Adam, but not tonight.
We kissed each other good night, Matt curled into me, I
curled into Vincent, and we all fell asleep.

We never mentioned Ray's name again.


---------------------


Many thanks to David of Hope, my trusty editor. Any mistakes
are due to me ignoring his advice.


qwb@san.rr.com