Hound Dog & Bean (24 page)

So why not talk? It’s what Dean wanted. H.D. owed Dean something. Payment was due. Then he got an idea.

“Look. You wanna get high?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Get high?”

H.D. nodded. “I got a doobie. What say we hit it?”

Dean shrugged. “Hell. Why not?”

So H.D. walked into the house, reveling in his nudity. He loved being naked. He’d never understood the need to hide his body. He had a good body. Why wear clothes when you didn’t need to? He liked the fact that Dean appeared to feel the same way he did. H.D. was so relieved when Dean hadn’t gotten up after they had sex and put on underwear before going to sleep.

H.D. felt his cock twitch, and he told it that now was not the time. He found his jeans and pulled out the little metal case he had for such occasions. It was flat and pink with little pink rhinestones—deliciously gay—and may or may not have been made for cigarettes. It certainly wouldn’t have carried more than five or so. But then, H.D. never carried more than a couple of joints. He wasn’t a pothead. A bag would last him months, six even. He just liked to have it for… well, just such an occasion.

“I
WAS
fourteen when I met Billy.” H.D. took one last hit of the half joint and offered it to Dean, who shook his head. He nodded and wet his thumb and forefinger with spit and made sure it was out, then set it on his plate. He was nice and high, but not so high he couldn’t talk.

“Billy was supposed to be my brother,” he explained. “The fosters insisted I call him that.” He grinned despite himself and despite the pain. “But it very quickly became something else entirely. Billy had a little experience—which he had gotten from previous foster brothers. But Billy was my first. I don’t know what number I was for him. Five? Six? A hundred? I never got any of those lessons in love back at the home because by then no one would have anything to do with me. I got called freak once or twice, but the beatings I dished out took care of that. Who wanted to have sex with me then?”

H.D. sighed. Looked off into space and into his past. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the small round table. He stretched his back. Felt it pop. His balls felt good hanging off the edge of the chair. It felt luscious to be naked outside.

“The thing is? Me and Billy? We were in love. I have never doubted that. We weren’t just jerking off together. We weren’t just hormone-ridden adolescent boys relieving our frustrated teenaged energy. We were making
love
. And what Billy didn’t teach me? I came up with on my own.” He grinned wickedly and Dean laughed.

“Problem was, we got a little
too
familiar,” H.D. continued. “At first it was late at night in our room and we were quiet. Then we got more daring. We did it at school in the bathroom stalls. We’d go to the mall and do it in the fitting rooms. We’d do it wherever we could. It was awesome!

“But then we got caught. Boy, oh boy, did we get caught.”

The words kept coming, and when he finally peered at Dean across the table, he was looking at H.D., those brown eyes wide and encouraging.
Go on
, those eyes said.

Oh shit….

“Okay….” H.D. cleared his throat. “Well…. It was Billy’s parents who caught us. Oh, shit, did they ever! I had Billy’s legs over my shoulders and I was nailing him, and the ’rents came home early. We were in the living room, and they walked right in, and it wasn’t like we could scrabble around and cover ourselves, you know?”

“Shit is right,” said Dean. “That must have been bad.”

“Actually, they took it pretty well. Seemed to anyway. They made us get dressed, and we sat around the kitchen table like a little family. They told us what we had done was perfectly normal. That boys fooled around because of hormones and shit. But I could see it. I could see it in their eyes. I was on my way out again. I remember going into a kind of shock. I was all numb. I was thinking that what Billy and I had wasn’t about hormones. It was more. And I kept looking at him and hoping he would say something. Anything. Because I could see in
their
eyes they were going to send me packing so I couldn’t corrupt their precious little boy.

“And goddammit, Billy turned his back on me. I overheard them later that night. He told them it was all my idea. That I
made
him. Then the next day they were making phone calls and I knew.”

He closed his eyes. Took a huge breath. Let the pot take him. Calm him. Jesus, but he hadn’t told the old woman this shit. Certainly not Elaine. And here it was, just coming out of him.

“So the next day after me and Billy went to school and his parents went to work, I ditched out. I tried one more time to talk to him, but he acted all fucked up. Told me to stay away from him. So I went back to their house and I packed a backpack and I stole their dog—at least Lucas loved me—and I hit the road and never looked back.”

B
EAN
CROSSED
his arms and shifted in his chair. He didn’t know what to say. What
was
there to say?

It explained a lot. A hell of a lot.

But hadn’t a lot happened in the last few days? Getting punched was the least of it. Getting to know this man who Bean was very quickly getting attached to. He had an idea Hill was telling him things that he didn’t blab to everyone. Wasn’t that a sign he was maybe getting a little attached to Bean as well?

And the sex—God, the sex had been some of the best in his life. Better even than with Estuardo, and he wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

Then there had been the chaos of last night. He still couldn’t believe how he had stepped in front of that gun. What had possessed him? It really
was
like someone had taken over his body and done all the right things to protect Hillary.

When had been the last time he’d wanted to protect anyone?

Estuardo, of course. And look where that had led.

He wanted to say something to Hill, but he didn’t know what. Anything could be the wrong thing. He had to be careful. It was becoming clear what a closed man Hill was. Yet he was opening himself up. Bean was afraid if he said something wrong, Hill might shut down again.

It didn’t help that he was high. Bean hadn’t smoked any pot since a Halloween party he’d gone to last year, and longer since before that. Bean had nothing against weed. He just didn’t do it often. Wine was legal after all. He generally stuck with that.

His throat was dry.

“I need something to drink,” he said. “Want some orange juice?”

H.D. nodded. “Sure.”

Bean got up and took their plates into the kitchen and set them under running water while he got some juice from the refrigerator. By the time he got the glasses out and filled them both, the water was hot and rinsing off the syrup from their pancakes. Then he put all the dirty stuff in the dishwasher and went back to the deck with their glasses.

He stopped short at the deck door.

H.D. had gotten up and was leaning against the deck railing, staring off into the trees—and looking beautiful. He was like something that had stepped out of a fairy tale book. Lean, beautifully muscled, with creamy skin. His legs were long and lightly covered with the only body hair H.D. had besides the golden bush around his ample penis. In the morning sunshine, his legs seemed to glitter, making him look all the more miraculous. They led Bean’s gaze up to that high, stunningly round bottom and then up that torso to the mane of dark blond dreadlocks. More fairy tale stuff. They too looked magical—powerful was the word that kept springing to his mind. And while they weren’t as soft as he’d imagined, he loved the feel of them. The strength in them.

“You looking at my ass?” H.D. said then, and Bean burst into laughter. It was the same line he’d used on H.D…. Goodness. Had it only been the morning before?

“I’m looking at all of you. You’re so gorgeous. You know that?”

H.D. turned around sensuously, relaxing back against the railing and displaying himself for Bean—spreading his legs slightly, shifting his weight to one leg, thrusting his crotch forward ever so much.

“You’re going to give me a hard-on,” Bean said.

“And that would be a bad thing?” H.D. returned, and oh—his cock was shifting, giving a little bounce.

“Juice first,” he said and walked up to H.D. He stepped close, allowing their cocks to brush up against each other, teasing them both. “Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Naughty man,” H.D. replied.

“Me?”

They laughed and drank their juice, and then they went upstairs and made love again.

This time H.D. took the lead.

It was
the
best sex Bean had ever had.

B
EAN
LAY
there with H.D. afterward, relishing the loving and the food and the beautiful morning and the fact that neither
of them seemed to be in a rush to go anywhere.

H.D. propped himself on one elbow, looked down at Bean, his face surrounded by his plaited mane. He took a hand and rested it on Bean’s chest, as if checking for a heartbeat. “This is all so easy for you, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Easy?” Bean asked. “What do you mean?”

“Trusting. Getting to know people. Letting a man sleep in your home. Your den. Your bed. I bet you let just anyone in.”

The look on H.D.’s face was indecipherable. Was he sad? Bean didn’t want H.D. to be sad. He tried to think of something funny to say.

“You think I’m a slut? That I take just anybody to my bed?”

“No,” H.D. answered. And from his tone he’d done so seriously. “I am, though. A slut. Does that bother you?”

Yes
, he thought. But why? He didn’t own this man. H.D. wasn’t his lover. But he also didn’t like the idea of this beautiful man giving himself to just anybody. Did that mean he was “just” one of H.D.’s conquests?

He didn’t like that idea at all. Because maybe he hoped H.D. could be his lover. But would that mean H.D. would want an open relationship? He wasn’t sure if he could deal with that. Most of Bean’s friends slept around. Friends that had lovers slept around. For some it was an open door policy. For others it was don’t ask, don’t tell. Some just cheated. It wasn’t even like he could point a finger either. He’d helped Estuardo cheat, after all. And even though he’d been married to a woman, it was cheating nevertheless. Sure, Bean hadn’t known in the beginning. But he’d found out and still gone on with it. There had been so much passion, and he’d been starved for it. Had no idea how much he’d needed….

“No,” he said. “It’s not easy for me. It’s not easy at all. I don’t know why I asked you here. Why I
want
you here. But I do. I’ve tricked a few times, I’m no monk or anything. But the last time I let someone in my heart was three years ago. It ended badly.
Really
badly. I’ve been too afraid to let anyone in since.”

“Wow,” H.D. said. “I’m… I’m sorry about all the slut stuff.”

Bean shrugged.

“Tell….” He paused. “Never mind.”

“What?” Bean asked.

Another pause. “Do you want to tell me about it? You don’t
have
to. I just thought… well you listened to me and—”

“You want to hear about it?” Bean asked. His heart started to pound. Could he talk about it?

“I… I guess I do,” H.D. said.

Damn
. Bean drew in a deep breath, filled his lungs, then slowly let it out.

Where to begin?

“I….”

“You don’t
have
to,” H.D. said. “I was just wondering about the man who had your heart and then… then hurt it.”

“It wasn’t just him,” said Bean. “It was his family….”

He took another breath and then he started the tale.

I
T
WAS
a story Bean had never really told anyone. Not even his mom. Especially his mom.

“I was in Guatemala. Cupping.”

H.D. gave him a blank look.

“It’s the way you test coffee,” he said. “How you observe the taste and aroma to see if it’s coffee you want to buy. You start by sniffing the brewed cup very deeply, getting it deep into your nose. Really sensing it—
knowing
it. Then you slurp it really loudly so it spreads to the back of your tongue, so you can measure the body, the oiliness, the feel of it in your mouth, the texture. You see if it’s sweet, check for acidity, flavor, and the aftertaste. Aftertaste can ruin it. You think you’ve got an excellent bean, but then maybe something happens like a taste that lingers after that you just don’t like.”

“There really is a science to it,” H.D. said.

“Yes. There really is. I’ll show you sometime.”

“If you want.” H.D. shifted his weight and pushed his hair out of his face. Some of it fell right back.

“That’s how I met Estuardo. At a cupping. And the beans he brought—oh my God, H.D. They were amazing. It was smoke and spice and flowers and just a touch of chocolate.” He found himself remembering that first cupping completely. “I knew I wanted it. I had to buy it. And there was Estuardo, ready to help.

“I knew he was gay the minute we started talking. He didn’t make a pass or anything like that. He was professional. But my gaydar was off the chart.”

“What did he look like?” H.D. asked.

“Straight to the point?”

“
Right
to the point, remember?” He gave Bean a sexy grin.

Bean laughed. “He was sexy. Is that what you want to know?”

H.D. nodded. “And all dark and smoky, with a big uncut—”

“Not as dark as you might think,” Bean said, cutting him off. He didn’t want to think about Estuardo’s cock. “Darker than you or me, of course—”

“Like that would be hard!” H.D. chuckled. Of course he wasn’t really
pale
, but close, and Bean could only wonder if H.D. was even able to tan.

Back to the subject. “He was around my age, thirty. Dark eyes. I mean, so dark you couldn’t see his pupils, and you could just fall into them. His hair was black, of course—almost all Latin men have black hair—and he liked to wear it in this little—I don’t know—peak I guess. Sorta combed up into a point. Not a point exactly, but—”