Copyright August 15, 2005
by Matthew Haldeman-Time

I am writing about men having sex with other men.  You must be eighteen or older to read my fiction.  This site is for consenting, responsible adults only.

            “Are you serious?”  Ethan’s voice was gleefully scandalized.  “No!  Oh, god!  What’d she say?”

            Zachary rolled his eyes, turning a page.

            “Wicked!  Damn, what - - you’re kidding!  Are you - - damn, what’d he do?”

            Zachary tried to focus on the words before his eyes.  The book was new.  The conversation was not; all of Ethan’s phone calls with Wade were the same.


            Zachary gritted his teeth.

            “Did he ever tell you - - right, right, right.  I know, that was that time…”

            The rest of Ethan’s conversation faded into the background as Zachary took his book back to the bedroom.  Kicking off his shoes, he sat on the bed, reclining against the pillows.

            Minutes passed, during which he could concentrate on his book, with only a sharp burst of laughter or a random “Wicked!” making it through the barrier of the closed door.

            Then the door opened, as Ethan walked over to the closet, still on the phone.  “Right, right, right.  Yeah, I know, he always does that.  Did I tell you about the time Zack and I went to that Italian place, the one with the lamps so close to the - - right, right, right.  I know!”

            Zachary covered his face with his book and tried not to moan aloud.

            “No, I’m looking for it,” Ethan said.  Zachary heard the click of hangers as Ethan shuffled through clothes.  “I think - - maybe it’s at the - - Zack?  Hold on.  No, let me call you back.  No, yeah, I’ll - - right, right, right.  Okay.  Bye.”  A gentle dip in the bed; a hand on Zachary’s thigh.  Ethan’s voice was closer now.  “Zack, are you okay?”

            “Ethan, how long have you lived here?” Zachary asked from behind his book.

            “Four months,” Ethan said.  “I know, I’m sorry, I’ll find a new place, but everything’s so expensive, and-”

            “And you can’t afford a new place until you get a job,” Zachary said.

            “I have a job,” Ethan said, injured.

            Zachary lowered his book, setting it aside.  “You’ve had three jobs in ten days.”

            “This is the right one,” Ethan said, brown eyes wide with sincerity.

            “You’ve lived here four months,” Zachary said, sitting up, brushing Ethan’s hand from his thigh.  “You’ve said ‘wicked’ once a minute for four months.  Do you realize how often that is?”

            “I don’t say it while I’m asleep,” Ethan said.  “And you don’t hear me say it while you’re at work.”

            “Except whenever you call to tell me you were fired again,” Zachary said.

            “I’m a burden to my best friend,” Ethan said, getting up and walking to the other side of the room.

            “You’re not a burden to me,” Zachary said.  “You’re an annoyance, but you’re not a burden.  I love you, Ethan, I just want to sleep in my own bed again.”

            “I told you that we could share the bed,” Ethan said, switching quickly from a dramatic martyr’s pout to an irritated look.  “You can stop throwing the whole ‘you kicked me out of my own bed’ thing in my face any day now.”

            “I’m not sharing a bed with you,” Zachary said.  “Explain to me again why you’re not the one on the sofa.”

            “It’s too short for me,” Ethan said.  “Why can’t we share the bed?  It’s a double bed, there’s plenty of room.”

            Zachary wasn’t having this argument again.  “Your hands wander.”

            “I’m a friendly guy,” Ethan said with a charming smile.

            Zachary was the only man in their circle of acquaintance that Ethan hadn’t groped.  He intended to keep it that way.  “Tell me about the job you got today.”

            “The temp agency set me up with this really great woman, her name’s Amy, she runs this…  I don’t know what they do, but all I have to do is alphabetize files and answer the phone.  The pay totally sucks, but every Thursday after work she goes out with everyone in the office next door, and there’s this really hot guy there, his name-”

            “I told you not to date people you work with!”  Typical; Ethan would make sure to find the nearest guy, even if he had to go next door to find him, before figuring out what the company did.

            “I don’t work with him,” Ethan explained.  “He works next door.  He’s in billing.  Isn’t that what you do?”

            “Five days a week for six years,” Zachary said.  “Ethan, is there any reason for me to suspect that this time will go differently from normal?”

            “What do you mean?” Ethan asked, sitting on the bed again.

            “You get a new job, you meet a cute guy, you flirt with him, you date him, you have sex with him, you have a fight with him, and you either quit or get fired.”  Sometimes the process took weeks; sometimes hours.

            “It will be different this time,” Ethan said earnestly.  “All of the guys I’ve met so far were either straight or involved or both.  The one I wanted to tell you about, he’s so hot, he has the most gorgeous green eyes, and when his, I don’t know, his partner, I don’t know if that meant lover or husband or what, showed up to take him to lunch-”

            “Are you going to stay at this job?” Zachary asked, trying to be patient.

            “Your priorities are so screwed up,” Ethan said, picking up his book, glancing at the cover, flipping a few pages.

            “Because I want you to be gainfully employed?” Zachary asked.

            “Zack, what do you do all day?” Ethan asked, putting aside the book.

            “I work,” Zachary said.  “It’s what most adults do, to earn money, so they can clothe themselves and eat once in a while.”

            “You sit at a desk,” Ethan said.  “You drive through rush hour traffic.  You eat stupid meals you don’t like in a depressing break room.  You wear a tie every day.”

            “I live in a nice apartment, I own attractive clothing, I drive a nice car, I have my nights and weekends to myself-”

            “You’re focused on dollar amounts,” Ethan said.  “I’m focused on people.  Who am I working with?  What are they like?”

            “How well do they give head?” Zachary asked, completing the list of questions.  “Ethan, your love of your fellow man is admirable, but you can’t live with me forever.”

            “I could,” Ethan said, with a small smile.

            Zachary stared at him.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

            “Hear me out,” Ethan said, putting a hand on his arm.

            “You’re moving out this weekend,” Zachary said, getting up and leaving the room.

            Ethan followed him.  “The guy I met today, Travis, he and his partner Steve, they were so happy together.  They’ve been together since, I don’t know, high school, maybe.  You should have seen them.”

            “And that has what to do with your continued residence here?” Zachary asked, turning his back to the kitchen sink.

            “Don’t you want to have that?” Ethan asked.  “A solid partnership like that?  Someone to come home to, someone to share things with, someone-”

            “I would love to have that,” Zachary said.  “With anyone but you.”

            Ethan grinned, advancing.  “I know you don’t mean that.”

            “I absolutely mean it,” Zachary said, casually moving to the other side of the table.  “I’d rather spend the rest of my life in blissful union with that eighty-year-old woman on the ninth floor than with you.”

            “Mrs. Ackerman?” Ethan asked, coming around the table towards him.  “She’s dating Mr. Acevedo from 13B.”

            “How do you know that?” Zachary asked, backing up, keeping a kitchen chair between himself and Ethan.

            “They go to bingo together,” Ethan said.  “They’re the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.”  Kneeling on the chair, he caught Zachary’s wrists.  “We can be even cuter.”

            “I don’t want to be cute with you,” Zachary said, trying to tug free of Ethan’s hold.  “And I’m not going to bingo with you.”  Only Ethan would know the other residents of the building this well.  Zachary had lived there for years and hadn’t even been sure of their names, much less their interpersonal relationships.

            “We’re perfect for each other,” Ethan said.

            “We’re complete opposites,” Zachary said.  “You like to dance and flirt and drink, I like to stay home.  You’re a night person, I’m a morning person.  I’m mature, and you’re allergic to responsibility.”

            “We have a lot in common,” Ethan argued.  There was that charming smile again.  “We both jack off thinking about me.”

            God, Zachary never should have let him move in.  “I’m not going to spoil eleven years of a great friendship by playing boyfriends with you.”

            “Not playing boyfriends,” Ethan said, hands still locked around Zachary’s wrists pulling him closer, Ethan looking up at him with sweet, determined eyes.  “Being boyfriends.  Being partners.  Being lovers.”

            Zachary had gotten over how chocolate-colored and long-lashed Ethan’s eyes were long ago.  He’d gotten over how perfectly curved Ethan’s lips were years earlier.  He’d even gotten over how the very thought of Ethan filled him with weird yearning.  Mostly.

            “You like living with me,” Ethan said.

            “I don’t live with you,” Zachary said, twisting his wrists free, going to the living room.  “You live with me.  And you’re the most annoying roommate I’ve ever had.”

            “I’m a great roommate,” Ethan said, following him.

            “You never clean up after yourself,” Zachary said, turning to face him.  Ethan was a lot closer than he’d realized; he backed up a step or five.  “You leave food out, you leave towels and clothes everywhere, you play obnoxious music too loudly, you’re on the phone every second, you’ve taken over my entire closet, you-”

            “But I give incredible head,” Ethan said, fingers twisting in the collar of his T-shirt and coaxing him closer.

            “A lot of good that does me,” Zachary said, ducking Ethan’s intended kiss and walking over towards the TV.

            “It could,” Ethan said, turning to face him.

            His apartment seemed smaller than it had earlier.  “It never struck you as rude that you drag different men through here every other night without warning?”

            “I wouldn’t do that if I could fuck you,” Ethan said.

            “What an elegantly worded proposition,” Zachary said, backing into the kitchen.  “Speaking of words, are you aware that your little ‘right, right, right’ habit drives me up the damned walls?  You can’t just say a nice, succinct ‘right.’  You can’t even do a repetitive but still acceptable, ‘right, right.’  You always go for the trilogy.”

            “Stop changing the subject,” Ethan said, as they rounded the kitchen table again.

            “The subject is that you’re moving out this weekend because I enjoy being your friend, despite your many glaring faults, and I don’t want to ruin our established friendship by becoming another notch on your already full belt.”

            Ethan unbuckled his belt.

            “Showing me your dick won’t change my mind,” Zachary said.  “I’ve already seen it.”  He had to admit, it was exceptional.

            “No belt,” Ethan said, dropping it to the kitchen floor, “no notches.”  Reaching across the table, he grabbed Zachary’s hand.  “Now come here so I can ravish you and convince you to be my life partner.”

            “Life partner?” Zachary demanded.  Either he needed a bigger table, or a friend with shorter reach.  “You’ve never had a boyfriend for more than two months.”

            “I’ve been with you for eleven years,” Ethan said, one foot on the chair, one knee on the table.

            “We’re friends, not boyfriends,” Zachary said.  “Get off of my furniture.”

            “I haven’t even spoken to my brother for eleven years in a row,” Ethan said.  “I couldn’t go twenty-four hours without talking to you, even before I moved in.”

            “Your brother’s an asshole,” Zachary said.  “You depend on me for the only stability in your life.”

            “You depend on me for the fun in yours,” Ethan said, climbing across the table, still clutching Zachary’s hand.

            “We can have fun without having sex,” Zachary said.  “I know that it’s a foreign concept to you, but think it through with me.”

            “You’re such a pompous ass,” Ethan said, and kissed him.

            Heat flashed through Zachary’s body; his fingers curled around Ethan’s hand.  “Oh, god,” he whispered, and sucked hungrily on Ethan’s tongue.  His own skin felt dangerously hot, and Ethan’s mouth felt so - - “God,” he said, backing up, pulling away, staring at Ethan’s wet mouth, at Ethan’s flushed cheeks, at Ethan’s desire-filled eyes.  “You’re moving out tonight.”

            “Get back here,” Ethan said, scrambling off of the table, coming after him as he walked quickly back to the bedroom.  “Zack, stop making me chase you.  You don’t have anywhere to go.  These doors don’t even lock.”

            “Stop stalking me,” Zachary said.  “You only want me because you’ve never had me.”

            “I only want you because we’re in love with each other,” Ethan said, hemming him in by the closet, backing him into the clothes.  “I’d ask you if you want to top first, but I know you’ve been dying for me to give it to you since we met.”

            Only Ethan knew him this damned well.  Only Ethan would call him on it.  Only Ethan could say something like that as if it weren’t embarrassing.  “You’re immature, you’re irresponsible, you-”

            “I love you more than anyone else ever has or ever could,” Ethan said.  “I’ve waited for you longer than anyone else ever will.  And you know how much I hate waiting.”  His lips were soft when they brushed Zachary’s cheek; Zachary’s eyes closed, breath catching.  “It’s been eleven years and it feels like weeks.  I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”  Ethan’s voice was quiet, a murmur, private, just for him to hear.  “You’re the only guy I’ve ever respected enough to keep my hands off of.  You’re the only person I’ve ever loved for more than three days.”

            Zachary weakened enough to steal slow, hot kisses, pushing his hands up under the front of Ethan’s shirt.  His hands couldn’t believe the sleekness and warmth of Ethan’s stomach.  “I know we shouldn’t do this,” he said, unable to stay away from Ethan’s mouth.

            “I know we have to,” Ethan said, and pulled him towards the bed.

            Ethan was the only person who called him Zack.

            Ethan was the only person he let take over his life, hijack his apartment, and drive his car.

            Ethan was the only person who made him cry out in need and rock the headboard against the wall and scream with ecstasy and generally disturb the neighbors.

            Working his dick in and out of Ethan’s slick, tight asshole, Zachary moaned, rocking Ethan’s body with every forward thrust.  The mattress groaned; Ethan groaned louder, calling his name, clawing hands pulling the sheets untucked.

            Ethan liked to fuck him from behind, against the wall or bent over any available surface.  He liked to fuck Ethan face-to-face, watching those chocolate eyes darken with need.  Ethan looked gorgeous, suffering through intense sexual pleasure, chest and cheeks red, lips parted, head back.  After eleven years of fantasy, there was nothing like the real thing.

            Fucking harder, pounding in - - impossible to stop, god, it was impossible to slow down, his dick needed to be deeper, deeper, god - - Zachary pumped Ethan’s erection, squeezing it, tugging it, milking out clear drops of pre-cum, making Ethan cry out louder, making Ethan’s fingers dig into his skin and urge him closer, deeper, inside.

            Ethan’s body was perfect.  Defined abs, hard pecs, firm thighs.  Sweetly curved ass.  Gorgeous dick coming up from that sexy tangle of dark curls.  His hands moved over Zachary like they were doing more than touching for function, for the sake of sex; they learned, explored, admired.

            As Zachary thrust faster, faster, hips locking into rhythmic motion, every muscle working, Ethan called his name again, dragging one hand up his back, arching.  “God, Zack, fuck me, do it, do it, harder.”  An aching groan, and Ethan tensed, blunt nails scratching his flesh.  “Fuck me, I’m coming, I’m - - god, yes, yes, Zack, harder, harder!”

            Zachary fisted Ethan’s dick, jacking it through spurt after spurt of thick cum, as his hips pistoned and his erection slammed deep, balls slapping Ethan’s ass.  The sight of Ethan’s orgasm, the splatters of jism, the sight of Ethan in ecstasy, back arching and muscles flexing, the sound of Ethan’s pleasure, loud groans and shocked cries, sent a sharp thrill spiraling through Zachary’s body.  Heat rushed him; his hips stuttered as Ethan let out one final cry of satisfaction, and bliss opened inside him, spilling seed deep into Ethan’s body while rich cries of ecstasy left his throat.

            “Mmm.”  Ethan shifted beneath him languidly, relaxed, rubbing a lazy, appreciative hand over his back.  “I love the way you fuck me.”

            Not trusting his verbal skills, Zachary rested on Ethan’s body, skimming his fingers over sweat-damp skin, his cheek on Ethan’s shoulder.

            The phone rang.  It was bound to be for Ethan anyway, so Zachary didn’t move.  Ethan reached for it on the bedside table.  “Hey.  Yeah, how are you doing?”

            Zachary’s fingertip circled a nipple.  He kissed it, just because he could.

            Ethan stroked his hair with one hand.  “No, I know, I heard about that, Amy told me at work today, she - - right, right, right.”

            Zachary’s hand stilled; his eyes closed.

            Slow fingers through his hair, trailing over his scalp.  “Oh, yeah?  Really?  Oh, shit, are you serious?  Wicked!”

            Zachary smiled.

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