Friday Flings

I'm starting a series of flash fiction stories just for the followers of my blog. These stories won't be posted anywhere else. Right now I'm shooting for a minimum of two per month but hopefully I'll manage one a week once my editing schedule lightens up. The folks over at Gay Authors do prompts every week and I'm not at all ashamed to say I've used their prompts for this first story, Snowmen. I hope everyone enjoys it, and as always, comments are welcome.

*************

Snowmen

“Here we go again!”

“Really, Ter, if all you’re going to do is yell, then go upstairs.” I wasn’t in the mood for another of his outbursts. I already had a mess on my hands, not to mention a yard full of adolescents to supervise. I didn’t need a 40 year-old adolescent to supervise, too.

“Fuck you, Chris.” He threw the dish rag, sopping wet from cleaning up all the melted snow the kids tracked in, into the sink and stomped through the great room, up the stairs, and down the upper hallway. Slam!

Yep. I could’ve predicted that. Great. I sighed. We’d been fighting more and more since his layoff two months earlier. I loved my husband more than anything. But the man needed to work. He needed the physical exertion, the daily routine, and the social interaction with other adults. He was not cut out to be a stay-at-home dad.

Then again, neither was I.

We had two beautiful children who we loved and spoiled. Our eldest, Laurel, just celebrated her tenth birthday. Her younger brother, Ansel, would be seven in the spring. We adopted them out of the foster care system; the children had lived with us since Ansel was a toddler. In the nearly five years that we’d been a family, Ter and I had never fought like we had since he lost his job. Any minute I was ready for one of our silly and ridiculous arguments to escalate and the D-word to come flying out of his mouth.

I looked down at the shattered glass on the floor. This mess was a prime example. A year ago Ter would’ve helped me clean up the broken window. Then he would’ve put on his stern face, sat Laurel and Ansel down, and asked who was responsible for breaking the window. Once we got the truth of it, he and I would’ve jointly meted out fair and appropriate discipline. Whether that meant no snow play with the neighborhood kids for the remainder of the winter or assigning chores until the new window was “paid” for, he and I would’ve done it as a team.

Instead, when the snowball flew through the air and shattered our window, Ter jumped up from his near-permanent position on the couch in the great room, lumbered to the hole, and screamed at the kids in the yard, ours included. He let the snowball melt on the floor and the glass lay there while he verbally abused children, half of whom had no idea what he was even talking about since they’d been sled-riding over our hill and hadn’t seen the snowball break the window in the first place. I didn’t have to ask them this to know it; it was common flipping sense. By the time I got to the first floor from my studio in the attic, Ter was on the verge of a heart attack and the shattered window glass lay in a pool of water half an inch deep.

I finished cleaning up the broken glass and melted snow. I’d have to put plastic over the window until the glass could be replaced. Heaving another sigh and wishing my husband was helping me, I pulled my boots, gloves, and coat on and trudged out toward the garage. The kids cut trails all over our driveway chasing each other and gathering up snow. In addition to the snowball fight that broke the window, they constructed a snow fort and a pair or snowmen. I smiled at the snowmen, which seemed to be holding hands. Maybe I was imagining that, but the sticks the kids used for arms just happened to connect in the center.

Play in the backyard slowed and several of the kids shot furtive glances in my direction as I opened up the garage and went inside. I took note of which kids seemed overly interested in me. All the kids that played with Laurel and Ansel knew they had two dads and wouldn’t give me a second glance under normal circumstances. Gathering up a large piece of heavy-duty plastic, my duct tape, and my staple gun, I headed back inside.

“Laurel! Ansel! Time to come inside! Clean up and send your friends home!”

I got the usual whines and protests, but when I turned with my arms full of supplies to repair the broken window and they saw my face, the protests died away.

By the time I got the window covered, Laurel and Ansel were inside with their winter gear off and the snow they tracked in cleaned up. They were both on the couch waiting to talk about what happened. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Hell, nobody fixed dinner yet. Ter was still shut up in his office. I knew if I didn’t go make nice he’d sleep in there on the daybed.

I was so tired. I was working sixty hour weeks so we could make ends meet since Ter’s unemployment was a pittance of his last salary. On top of that he still expected me to do most of the childcare for the kids and handle over half of the meals. I was resentful that he hadn’t taken over all the food shopping and meal preparation since he was at home all day. He didn’t even take care of his share of the housework anymore. The one time I confronted him, it turned into a huge blow out argument. He screamed at me that he was depressed and the kids and I sucked the life right out of him.

He agreed to see a therapist but he hadn’t followed through. I worried about him. I’d never seen him like this, and I didn’t know what to do for him. He didn’t seem to want me around as anything other than a cook, maid, or verbal sparring partner. After twelve years of marriage I wasn’t ready to lose the man I loved over something as mundane as a lost job.

I had the talk with Laurel and Ansel, who were both more subdued than usual. The broken window had been the result of a snowball fight between two warring entities. They had been on one side and several of the neighborhood kids had been on the other. I understood now why the other kids eyed me up when I walked to the garage; they were wondering if Laurel and Ansel had gotten in trouble and if I’d already called their parents. I hadn’t, but I would. Not that I expected anybody to pay for our window. Things happened; anybody with kids understood that. But as good neighbors we tried to keep each other in the loop. All the kids should know better than to have snowball fights next to any of the houses.

I felt overwhelmed. My left eyelid was doing that thing where it twitched involuntarily. That was nothing but stress, and it hadn’t happened since we had to put Ter’s mom in the nursing home. I broke down and called my parents, something I did rarely. After hearing my voice, though, my mom agreed to keep the kids overnight.

“You sound like you need a break, Chris.”

“I do. We do. Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course. That’s what grandparents are for.”

I packed Laurel and Ansel up and took them to my parents. Though I doubted he’d leave his office, I tacked a note explaining where we’d gone to the table. I stopped off and picked up dinner for us on the way home as I had no intention of cooking.

When I got back to the house, I put the Thai food on the counter and opened the wine to let it breathe. My note was no longer on the table and I cursed inwardly. The one time I was sure Ter would stay inside his shell brooding, he came out and I wasn’t here to talk. I hoped he would understand why I’d taken the kids to my parents’ house. I didn’t want to spend any of the precious time we’d get alone tonight fighting.

I poured two glasses of wine and headed upstairs with them. When I got halfway up the steps I heard Placebo’s Without You I’m Nothing disc playing. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, gripping the wine glasses a little tighter. The first time Ter and I made love was after a Placebo concert. He’d been every bit as hot as Brian Molko, the lead singer, and the way he looked at me… like the sun rose and set in my eyes.

I hadn’t seen that look from him in a very long time.

I made it to the top of the stairs and the delicious aroma of Noir permeated the entire second floor. Ter must’ve taken a bubble bath. Oh god, I was getting turned on. I gulped some of the wine, paying no attention to the glass from which I drank. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time Ter and I made love. Had it been two weeks? Three? I was ashamed that I couldn’t come up with a date. Having kids made it difficult, though, and the extra hours I worked not only cut into my schedule, they left me sapped out, with little energy for more than doing what I had to do, which lately felt like everything…

Light flickered through the open doorway of our bedroom. I took another deep drink of wine. He’d lit candles. By the time I walked all the way down the hall my heart pounded like a grandfather clock on meth.

Ter had cleaned our bedroom. All the clothes that had been strewn across the floor were gone. My suits, haphazardly tossed on my dressing chair and across every other available surface, had all been hung back up or put in the dry cleaning bag, which hung from the back of our closet door ready to be taken to the cleaners. The sweet scent of lemon dusting spray blended with the lavender candles that flickered around the room, relaxing me as much as the wine. Fresh, crisp, Egyptian cotton sheets in a deep, rich burgundy covered the bed, and my husband stretched across them, his blond hair still damp from his bath.

“Hey.” I offered him a glass of wine, which he accepted. God... I’d forgotten how beautiful he could be when he was all sprawled out naked. “I got Thai take-out.”

Ter smiled at me, sipping what was a very nice Shiraz. “There’s only one thing I’m hungry for, Chris.” He set the wine glass on his nightstand and crawled over to the edge of the bed, kneeling so that he could reach me. When he slid his big, warm hands under my shirt, I shivered. He hadn’t touched me in so long. I looked down into his eyes, so blue, and suddenly I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough.

He chuckled darkly as I fumbled with buttons and swore as the zipper on my jeans stuck. I tripped myself getting my socks off and probably looked like a damn fool hopping around with my hard-on caught in the fly of a pair of trunks. I didn’t care. I needed my skin against his, all of it, right now.

Finally I was bare. I drained the wine, moved the glass so I wouldn’t shatter it, and slid onto the bed next to him. I opened my mouth to speak and never got the chance. Ter slanted his mouth over mine with a hunger that made me groan. His tongue lanced into my mouth, the wine flavoring the kiss, and our erections bumped as he pressed his long body against me.

“I love you.” I trailed kisses along his jaw. “I’ve missed touching you and I’ve missed your touches.”

“Have you?” He lightly bit my neck. “Prove it.”

My dick leaked like a faucet. I loved it when he got all aggressive in bed. We were both versatile, but I knew with the loss of his job and all our arguing that he needed this. And I was so willing to give it to him. I rolled onto my stomach and arched my back, raising my ass up. His breath caught, such a delicious sound. I pulled a pillow down and put it under my belly so my dick would rub the sheets just right.

“Fuck me, baby.” I wiggled my hips, knowing he loved it. “I need you.”

“Oh god…” Grabbing my wrists and stretching my arms up above my head, he slammed them down and pinned me to the bed. “I want you so bad.” His dick slid along my crack in between my cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt him so hard. He was like fiery steel.

“Then do it.”

Ah, they were the words of twenty year-old kids or even thirty year-old lovers. But neither of us would ever see thirty again. The days of rough and tumble, unprepared sex were gone, even with the kids at my parents’ house. We both knew it wasn’t worth it. He’d planned ahead, though, and set the Gun Oil out.

His fingers slid into me, slick and wet, and I rose up, pushing back to meet them. It had been ages since I’d bottomed but god, it felt amazing. Ter’s fingertips went unerringly to my spot, working it and me like a machine.

“Ter… Oh fuck… Stop…” His other hand still held my arms stretched up over my head. I suppose I could’ve fought him but it was too hot, too erotic to be stretched out tight as a strung bow. “Ter, you have to… Oh fuck, I’m gonna shoot…”

His mouth moved over my back and trailed scorching kisses down the length of my spine as he held me down. “Come, Chris. You’re so sexy…”

I couldn’t stop the motion of my hips, jerking back and forth to meet his hand. So good, so fucking amazing, the warmth and feelings of well-being rushed up over me even as the tingles built in my lower belly and then I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I groaned long and loud and let go, coming all over the clean sheets in a massive orgasm.

My head spun, my body still filled with sparkles and tingles as Ter slowly pushed inside me. God, it was delicious. The spread and burn was almost non-existent after such a major release, and the sensation of being filled, of having him inside me… I couldn’t help it. Tears poured down my cheeks.

He let go of my wrists and twined his fingers through mine, allowing me time to get used to him. Ter wasn’t small, and it had been a while. After a few seconds, though, I got control of the emotions and nodded, squeezing his fingers. His arm slid around my chest and he kissed my ear.

“You okay? Can I move?”

“God, yes.”

I expected a power-fucking. After all, I’d already come and I knew he had to be going crazy. But no, he moved with a slow, gentle precision that had me moaning like a bitch in no time flat.

“You like that, don’t you, Chris?”

All I could do was moan and raise my ass up into his thrusts. My dick was hard and wet again.

“You like a big hard dick in your ass, don’t you, baby?”

“Ter… fuck… harder! Oh please, fuck me harder!”

“Answer my question.”

“Yes!” He was driving me insane. Every slide over my spot was sweet torment. I needed more. Deeper, harder thrusts. “The answer is yes.”

“Say it, Chris. I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh Christ…” His mouth on the back of my neck sent prickles cascading down my back. I arched into his thrusts. “I like your big hard dick up my ass. And I need you to fuck me harder, Ter. Now!”

He chuckled. Then he sank his teeth into my shoulder and got down to business, pounding into me with a relentless, unforgiving rhythm that brought me right to the brink. He pulled out and slapped my ass. “Roll over. I want to see your face when you come this time.”

I scrambled to obey, avoiding the wet spot where I’d come the first time. He slid back inside and we both gasped. “You feel so fucking good, Chris. So tight and hot.” He leaned down and mated our mouths. The hair on his belly rubbed my hard dick as he pumped into me and it was almost enough, almost but not quite.

“Gotta touch,” I gasped, reaching for my dick. He pushed up so I could stroke off, and at the first touch I knew I was done. “I’m gonna come, baby.”

“Yeah. Do it.”

His eyes were glued to my cock as his hips pistoned into me. His blond hair fell forward, shadowing the blue eyes I’d fallen in love with and I only needed a few tugs to show him what he wanted to see. I exploded, spurting up onto my stomach and over my hand. My ass clenched around him and he groaned.

“Oh yeah… that’s the fucking best…” His head went back and he came with a moan.

He opened his eyes and looked down at me, a sheepish look on his face. “I didn’t ask if that was OK.”

Lifting a hand I cupped his cheek. “What, coming inside me?” He nodded. “Well, I think it’s all right. We should’ve looked at the calendar.”

He frowned. “What the fuck does that have to do with it?”

“I don’t think I can get pregnant right now, but you know what they call people who use the rhythm method of birth control…”

Ter slipped out of me as he started laughing. “You goof.” He grinned at me. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I’m sorry for earlier.”

“Me too. We have all night to make up for it.”

“Good. Let’s not waste any of that time.”

We got up and headed downstairs to eat Thai take-out by candlelight. The snowmen in the yard held hands and watched us.