A Second Harvest (17 page)

Christie’s reply came a moment later.
God,
I am so hard right now. This is what I want to do to you.

David held his breath and tapped the photo. It was a picture of Christie’s mouth and throat. He had his head tilted back, light blond hair caressing his neck, and he had two long fingers inserted between his lips. His lips were pursed and his cheeks hollowed.
He was sucking his fingers.

David groaned and spread his legs. He’d never had… that, not really. He had tried to guide Susan’s head down a few times when they were newly married. But she didn’t like it, and he couldn’t remember what it felt like for the few seconds she tried to please him. He’d looked at the pictures of that act so many times in his secret stash, trying to imagine the sensation.

Christie
wants
to do that. To me.

He was rigid and throbbing at the idea, at the image of Christie’s mouth and throat. He had to give himself a few strokes. Every inch of his body felt sensitive, crying out for touch, for Christie. Every cell craved him. It would be easy to orgasm just looking at those two photographs. But he made himself slow down, massage himself lightly with two fingers and type a reply.

Never thought I could feel like this. You’re so beautiful.
Show me more.

Christie’s reply was quick.
OK. Show me more too.

There was a pause while Christie, David hoped, took photos. David was so lost in a haze of lust he didn’t think about reciprocating until his phone dinged again, and he realized he should have been taking a picture of his own.

But when he opened what Christie had sent, the thought flew from his head.

Christie had removed his pj bottoms and was completely bare. The photo was taken from between his spread and raised knees. He was still lying on his back, and the image showed the curve of his buttocks, a tight, hairless sac, and the fat root of his erection. The angle was exactly what David would see if he were lying between Christie’s thighs.

He groaned. A delicious, shuddering throb started in his cock and ran through him from head to toe. Christie shaved down there. David had never seen that done, but he loved it. He loved the idea of how smooth Christie would feel, to his fingers, to his mouth, could imagine the clean smell of him. And if he spread Christie’s thighs a little more with his hands, tilted him up a bit, the secret part of him would be revealed, a forbidden entrance. It was forbidden, but not by Christie because Christie was brave. Christie would open himself up, give himself entirely, dare anything.

David squeezed his cock with his fist, trying to hold back the tide, but it was no use. The squeeze felt too good, the image before him stuck too deeply into his most sexual urges. He couldn’t help squeezing again, rhythmically, two, three times, four, and then he was coming. He tried to keep his eyes open as it washed over him, intense yet with a tinge of hollowness, like listening to a recording of a loved one instead of being with them. He wanted, oh, he wanted.

He waited out the frantic beating of his heart. When he looked down his cock was just starting to soften and pearly drops painted his stomach.
Christie.
He wanted to give Christie something to edge him over too. Without letting himself reconsider, he took a photo of his stomach with its satiated cock and evidence of bliss. He sent it.

He got up and went to the bathroom to clean himself off. When he returned there was a new photo waiting. It showed Christie’s fist, tight around the head of his cock with white ejaculate all over his thumb and wrist. David made a sympathetic noise in his throat and his spent member gave a weak little pulse.

Christie had managed to hide most of his cock in the photo, though, and when David thumbed back through the previous pictures, he couldn’t fully see it either. Christie was teasing him. He was holding back something that David would only get to see in person.

He smiled and typed in a single word.
Soon.

Chapter 14

CHRISTIE WAITED
for four days. He could hardly believe his own fortitude. He’d always been a “dessert first” kind of guy. But… he kept his hands to himself and waited.

The day after their Polynesian meal—and subsequent phone sex—Christie thought maybe he should give David some space and not join him for dinner that night. Possibly he was being a coward. He worried David might be experiencing some guilt, and Christie didn’t think he could handle seeing that.

It had been good, though. God! Christie had never had phone sex before, but knowing it was David on the other end of the texts and photos—David, the handsome, shy man he’d been secretly lusting after for months—made it one of the most erotic experiences of Christie’s life.

He could feel David’s need behind every word, was turned on by the way David fully committed to it, took photos of himself in a show of trust and desire, the way Christie’s photos sent him over the edge so quickly…. Christie woke that night dreaming about it, and he looked at the photos and came again, and again that next morning too.

But however much he enjoyed it, he was still a little worried David might suffer a guilt backlash. He texted David at noon.

Do you need some time to yourself tonight? I can cook tomorrow.

But David’s reply was quick and to the point.

No. Would like to see you. I’ll get the food.

Right, then. Tonight it was.

Christie managed to get in a decent day’s work. The dairy clients loved his campaign, and he was now at the stage of adding in new features they’d requested to their website design. His boss also asked him to review the work of a younger designer and offer suggestions. When dark fell—it came early this time of year—he put on his snow boots and walked over to David’s.

The wind was frigid in the lane between the two properties with no corn to block the way and a bed of icy stuff on the ground. It reminded Christie that December was only a day away. He wondered if David would like to help him decorate Aunt Ruth’s little house. It would be the first time Christie had a home of his own at Christmastime.

But that reminded him that Amy and Joe would probably be back again for Christmas. He was so not ready mentally to go there. He arrived at the farm with cold hands, what he guessed was a red nose, and a case of the nerves.

“It feels like it could snow,” he said as David let him into the warm house.

“It could, if we had any moisture in the air, but there’s not even a chance of it ’til next week.”

“You’re like my own private weatherman,” Christie teased, forcing good humor.

David gave him a sheepish look. “I get the farmer’s forecast on my phone.”

“Ah. A secret kept from us city types. I get it.”

David laughed a genuine laugh, and then it felt easy between them. Christie’s worry David would be weird appeared to be ill-founded. He was perhaps a little more awkward than usual, but not in a bad way. He already had the table set, so they unpacked the take-out bag and loaded up plates without any fanfare. They talked about the things they usually talked about at first—Christie’s work, the farm. They didn’t talk about being gay or about what they’d done the night before.

David made no move to touch Christie throughout the meal, but there was something new about him all the same. There was a softer look in his eyes, and he let his gaze linger. It wasn’t lustful, but it was
appreciative
. Openly so. He gazed at Christie’s neck with a small smile for at least a full minute, as though he were watching a particularly nice sunset.

Only now did Christie realize how much David stopped himself from looking before, the way his eyes would only touch on Christie briefly. It was heady having David look at him like that, like he was desirable, beautiful. It was such an extremely
fond
look. It felt… it felt like a date, even with take-out Italian and not a single candle on the table.

They cleaned up the plates together at the sink, David washing and Christie drying. When they were done, David hesitated over the empty sink, swallowed nervously.

Don’t push him, Christie. Let him lead.

“I’d like you to be honest,” David said. “Are you genuinely attracted to me? If it’s just pity or curiosity, or because you’re bored out here in the sticks, then I’d prefer it if we stay friends. Sex… it means something to me.”

That hurt a little, as if sex meant nothing to Christie. But he supposed he’d deserved that opinion in the past. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “David, I’ve never been as attracted to
anyone
as I am to you—physically, emotionally, sexually….”

David looked up at him with an expression like disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth before he got words out. “Me too.”

Christie smiled. “Your pace. Okay?”

David blushed a little and nodded. “Yeah, I—thanks.”

“How about I make dinner on Thursday? I still need to try that toffee pudding, so I was thinking British.”

“That sounds great.”

“Okay, then.” It made Christie stupidly happy just to have a for-sure future date set.

“Unless you need some space,” David added quickly.

“Nope. You?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” David walked Christie to the door but made no move to kiss him again. So Christie said good night and went home. He didn’t even notice the wind in the lane this time.

On Thursday he made shepherd’s pie, fresh steamed peas with mint, and toffee pudding. On Friday night they had a lovely sausage and bean stew with whole-grain cornbread made with yogurt. They didn’t touch or kiss, but they both did a lot of looking and so much smiling Christie’s face hurt.

It felt like a slow courtship dance to Christie, and it was driving him fucking bonkers. The photos on his phone were all well and good, but he craved the real thing. If David didn’t make a move soon, Christie would attack him out of sheer sexual frustration.

ON SATURDAY
morning David was pleased when Christie came over to get in some heavy lifting. David was mucking out stalls, and he tried to give Christie an easier task, but Christie insisted on helping. Temperatures had been below freezing overnight, and the icy straw-and-waste material was heavy on the shovels and heavier still in the wheelbarrow. They both ended up drenched in sweat.

“So… tomorrow’s Sunday,” Christie said as they spread clean straw in the emptied stall.

“Sunday always comes the day after Saturday around here. Maybe it’s different in New York.”

Christie rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Smartass. I was just wondering if you’ve got plans for tomorrow? Church-type plans? Or kids-home-from-college-type plans? You said you go to church sometimes.”

“No plans.” David wondered what Christie had in mind. Whatever it was, he was probably going to say yes. He already wanted to.

Christie wiped his face with his sweatshirt, pulling up his shirt hem to do it and revealing a flat stomach with a fine trace of golden hair below his belly button. It sent a thrill of longing singing through David’s blood. It was a calculated move, he was pretty sure. But Christie spoke innocently. “Well, I thought it might be nice to go somewhere. How long can you be away from the farm? Could you manage six hours?”

“I have to milk in the morning, but I can call Earl to see if he’d come over for the second round, even though it’s a Sunday. Six hours shouldn’t a problem. What did you have in mind?”

“Can I surprise you?” Christie’s eyes were hopeful and his smile irresistible.

“I guess we’ll see about that. What would I have to wear to this ‘surprise’?”

Christie tilted his head, considering it. “Something clean and comfortable. Jeans and a nicer long-sleeved shirt or sweater. Or khakis. It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

“I can manage that.” David wondered if he could iron a shirt without burning it. It was years since he’d bothered.
A surprise.
He smiled to himself. He liked surprises.

Christie’s eyes were warm. “Thanks for trusting me. I think you’ll really like it.”

“Of course I trust you.”
I let you see me, naked, over the phone.

He knew Christie was waiting on him to make a move, to touch him
in the flesh
instead of hiding behind a phone. He wanted to, God knew he did, but it never felt like the right time. They’d been having dinner at the farm, and it was awkward in the house. The ghosts of his past life were too thick there. He couldn’t quite cross through those layers of habit to take his male lover into his arms. And he still struggled with his own guilt and sense of self, though not nearly enough to make him want to stop seeing Christie.

“We’re going out of town, then?” he asked.

Christie looked mysterious. “You’ll see. But it’ll be someplace new for both of us. Sound all right?”

“Sounds like an adventure.”

ON SUNDAY
David woke early, too anxious to sleep. He was done with his morning chores by six. He showered with more care than usual and spent way too much time ironing a shirt. He chose a blue Oxford dress shirt Susan once got him for Christmas. It matched Christie’s eyes. He realized it did no good if his shirt matched someone
else’s
eyes, but he kept being drawn back to it, and in the end, he wore the damn shirt. He hurriedly ate a bowl of cereal. At the agreed-upon time of 8:00 a.m., he knocked on Christie’s door.

“Morning.” Christie was all ready to go in his black ski jacket and a blue sweater. He looked young and gorgeous standing in the doorway, and David felt a lump in his throat.

“Want to take my truck?” he offered.

“Sure. But we only need to drive about a mile.”

“A mile?” There wasn’t a whole lot within a mile, and David felt a nudge of disappointment.

“To the train station,” Christie explained. “We’ll be back by three. Okay?”

“Sure.” David’s excitement moved up a notch.

The Amtrak station in town was no more than a platform. David parked in the small parking lot. He got out and waited for Christie to choose a side. If he took the small footbridge to the other side of the tracks, they’d be headed toward Philly and New York City. If he stayed on this side, Harrisburg. Christie headed for the footbridge.