Marie Sexton - Promises

He was smiling when he said, “For now.”

I reached down and slid his pants and briefs down over his hips. I couldn’t get them far, but they were at least out of the way. He reached into my boxers and pulled my cock out so that it was lined up against his, wrapped his hand around both of us, and started to pump his hand slowly up and down.

Despite his enthusiasm for sex that first day, we had only fucked one other time, and even then, only because I wanted it. At first I thought he was embarrassed, but then I started to realize that the act itself made him uncomfortable. When I tried to ask him about it, he simply said, “It isn’t fair to you.”

I tried to convince him that I didn’t mind being bottom every time, at least for now, but it didn’t help.

“Do you think less of me, for letting it be done to me?” I had asked him.

“No. Not at all.” I wasn’t sure if it was true, or if he only wanted it to be true.

“Then what?”

“How can you not think less of me afterwards?”

That didn’t make any sense to me, but I didn’t push. After all, it had barely been a month since his first sexual experience with another man. I figured whatever his hang-up was, he would get over it in time. For now, we had other ways of pleasing each other. Still, I was surprised to discover that this was actually what he liked best: holding our cocks together and beating us off at the same time. He said it was because he could watch me. I tried not to be self conscious after that, but I also thought it was because he could kiss me easier. Whatever his reason, I wasn’t going to object.

I put my hand over his and urged him to pump faster. He had developed a sort of twist at the top of each stroke that caused the heads of our cocks to rub sideways against each other, just a tiny bit, and it was fantastic. Still, he had taken care of me the night before. For him, it had been several days, and it was only a minute or two before his fist was slick from his own come.

He moved down then. Whatever his hang-ups about anal sex, he had none whatsoever about getting come in his mouth. I put my hands on his head, doing my best not to push, while he sucked. However, I couldn’t stop my hips from thrusting up toward him when I came, and he groaned, too, not from discomfort, as I unloaded in his mouth.

I was still reeling from my orgasm when he moved up and kissed me. “I hope you know,” he whispered into my ear as he nuzzled my neck, “that was only a warmup.”

THE Christmas party turned out to be not as bad as I had expected. A couple of the older cops pointedly ignored us, but Tyson and his wife seemed to make an effort to stand by me most of the evening, and while Grant wasn’t exactly friendly, he wasn’t a complete jerk either.

The next week, I had one last tutoring session with the kids. I had a full house, as they were all preparing for finals. Several of the parents had sent money along to cover the cost of the pizza. I was surprised when the doorbell rang that, instead of answering it, Matt came into the dining room and said to me, “You better get that.”

I could hear him talking to the kids but didn’t think much of it. I paid for the pizza and then stopped in the kitchen for paper plates and napkins. As soon as I stepped back into the dining room, the kids erupted into cheers. Two of the girls jumped up and threw their arms around me. One was squealing into my ear loud enough that I feared I would have permanent hearing loss. Matt ducked his head and quickly left the room. The rest of the kids were coming over now and shaking my hand or hugging me or pounding me on the back.

“What’s this about?” I asked as I tried to pry one of the girls off of me.

“We just heard you’re going to be our teacher next semester!” Ringo said, and then they all started talking at once.

“It will be so great—”

“You’re the best—”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Wait!” Of course, Matt’s odd behavior made sense now. Talk about throwing me to the wolves. I had to wait a second for all the commotion to die down before saying, “I haven’t actually accepted the offer yet.”

“But you will, right?”

“We’ll see.” They all started to talk again at once. “Stop! Whether I take the job or not, you guys still have finals to study for, so get back to work.”

I found Matt in the kitchen. He was staring at the floor, cheeks red, looking incredibly guilty. He kept his head down but glanced up at me.

“Are you mad?”

“I should be.”

“But are you?”

I thought about it and realized that I wasn’t at all. What I felt was actually more like relief. At some point over the last week, I had made the decision to trust his judgment, and I felt good about it. The nagging anxiety which had been eating away at me ever since that fateful meeting earlier in the month had faded to nothing more than a few frantic butterflies in my stomach. Mom’s advice about deciding how to live seemed to magically make a little more sense. And the reaction of the students—my students—had decided it for me.

“I’ll call tomorrow and accept the job.” That made him smile. “You really are a manipulative bastard. I’ve told you that before, right?”

He grabbed my shirt and pulled me over to him. “Just say it one more time.”

“You’re a manipulative bastard.”

“Not that. You know what you’re supposed to say.”

“You were right.”

He laughed. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

A FEW days later, Cole called.

“Hey, Sweets!” he said in his lilting, flirtatious voice. “I’m back in Vail. Want some company tonight?”

“Sorry, Cole. I can’t.” Matt was on the couch reading, and his head jerked up when I said that name.

“You can’t tonight, or you can’t because of a certain tall, dark, very angry-looking police officer?”

“The latter.”

“Closet door wasn’t locked after all?”

“I guess I found the key.” Matt looked confused when I said that, and I smiled at him.

Cole was quiet for just a second, and then he said. “I’m glad, Jared.” It wasn’t his usual flamboyant voice. It was his real voice, soft and quiet. “I’m really happy for you.”

“I GOT the beer!” Matt called as he came in the door.

“It’s about time! You missed kick-off.” It was Sunday, eight days before Christmas. We had been looking forward to this day for weeks, when our two favorite teams would be playing each other again.

“Anybody score yet?”

“No, but it’s only a matter of time before the Broncos pound your pansyass Chiefs into the ground.”

He laughed. “We’ll see, Jarhead! Loser buys dinner.”

It was a close game. We had a blast, harassing each other as first one team took the lead and then the other. With two seconds left, the Broncos were up by one point. The Chiefs were lining up for a field goal. If they missed it, I won. If they made it, he did. It’s the folly of sports fans everywhere that we think we can affect the game from our living room. I was yelling, “Miss it! Miss it!” Matt had a white knuckle grip on the coffee table in front of him.

The kick was good. I groaned. Matt let out a victorious whoop and turned and pounced on me from the other end of the couch. It was embarrassing how quickly he could pin me. He grabbed my face and kissed me. Not a romantic kiss, but a big, loud, triumphant smack on my lips, and then pulled back to look at me with a huge smile on his face.

“So what are you buying me for dinner?”

“A Lean Cuisine! You’re heavy!”

The phone rang, and I reached over my head to grab it off the side table behind me.

“Hello?” He hadn’t moved off of me but had moved down. He had my shirt pulled up and was trying to distract me by kissing his way down my stomach.

“Matt?” a woman’s voice asked.

“No, this is Jared.”

“Jared? Do I have the wrong number? I’m trying to reach Matt Richards. He told me this was his new number.”

He was pushing my sweats lower, and his lips were at the top of my patch of hair. The attempt to distract me was proven successful when I said, “He’s on, hang here.” He started laughing against my stomach as I handed him the phone.

But the happy look left his face pretty fast once he started talking. I figured out right away that it was his mother and was surprised that he had given them my number. Then I realized he didn’t really live at the apartment anymore, so maybe it made sense.

He was sitting up now. “No, Mom, I wish you wouldn’t. We’re really busy right now. It’s just not a good time.” Oh shit. I knew by the look he was giving me that his feelings were the same. “Are you renting a car, or do you need me to pick you up?” He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The remainder of the conversation was nothing but one word answers on his end. “Yes. Yes. Right. Okay. Bye.” He dropped the phone, and his head fell almost to the level of his knees.

“Fuck, Jared. This is bad.”

Despite his obvious distress, I found that I wasn’t too worried about any of it. It would only be for a few days, and then we would be back to normal. And lately, “normal” for us was unbelievably good. Now that we weren’t fighting anymore, everything felt perfect. Nothing could darken my mood much. So my voice was light as I asked, “They’re coming to visit?”

“Yes.”

“For Christmas?”

“Yes.”

“When do they get here?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“How long will they be here?”