When Memory Fails Page 4

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right, but…,” Scott answered, sitting down as he felt his legs getting wobbly. “I’m sorry, I guess I don’t know the whole story, and I’m sure you think it’s none of my business, but… I just wanted to… I was hoping that—”

  “Of course it’s your business,” Sandra said, interrupting. “You’re his man, right?”

  Scott found himself smiling at that thought. “Yes, I am.”

  “If my husband heard me telling you that he’s tried to get me to call Hank a couple of hundred times….” Scott felt himself relax for the first time since first sitting down to call almost three hours ago. “I’d feel more comfortable making these plans with Hank, so why don’t you tell him you spoke with me and that I’d like to hear from him. He can call me when he’s ready and maybe….” Sandra didn’t finish her thought.

  Scott’s smile broadened as he heard hope and possibility come through the phone. “Yes, I will, I will.” Scott stood, bolstered by the potential his meddling had brought. “Thank you for considering it, at least. Goodbye, Sandra.”

  “Scott?”

  He waited for her to speak again.

  “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about calling myself, but I was never really sure if Hank would want to reconnect. I’ll let him tell you about how he left things with the family, but… well, it’s good that you called.”

  They said their goodbyes. Scott waited on the line to hear Sandra disconnect first, punched the button to disconnect himself, and then fell down on the sofa, almost jumping out of his skin when the phone, still in his hand, trilled. He looked at the call display and saw that it was Hank calling.

  Chapter 4

  SCOTT stood in the kitchen, willing himself not to listen to what was going on in the living room. He pulled dishes out of the dishwasher so he could load the dirty ones from that evening’s dinner, making enough noise so that Hank wouldn’t think he was eavesdropping. Of course, Scott realized just as he finished unloading the clean dishes that Hank would tell him everything anyway, but still, Hank deserved some privacy.

  He hummed to himself, some tune that he’d been working on for the past few months, and loaded the dirty dishes. Plates first, coffee mugs next, cutlery spread out to promote maximum clean, the heavy skillet that he’d used to make one of Hank’s favorite meals. The meal had been a precaution, one that Scott had not had any need for, actually. The initial feeling of euphoria and elation at having jumpstarted the longed-for reunion of Hank and his family had eventually given way to the inevitable understanding that Hank might not be ready yet. Scott had anticipated anger, resentment, perhaps all leading to an eventual softening, and then appreciation. But what Scott had indeed witnessed had not been anything he had ever anticipated.

  Hank had walked through the door, a sly smile on his face, ready, willing, and able to regale Scott with the brief yet satisfying story of how he’d managed to happen upon Roddy and Hughy not only gone from the site but drinking in the nearest tavern. Using the excuse of needing to use the men’s room, Hank had stopped abruptly in the parking lot of The Rose and Crown after noticing their vehicles parked not-so-subtly near the rear of the building.

  Scott could only shake his head as Hank told him about walking in, avoiding looking anywhere but at the barman, and then just “happening” to turn in the direction of the washrooms. “And to my utter surprise,” Hank had told Scott, his eyes bright and his mood near blissful, “who should I see sitting off near the rear, doing their best to interest the haggard waitress in something other than flirting?”

  Scott, caught up in his lover’s infectious enjoyment of the afternoon’s events, had said nothing, allowing Hank to reveal the only two names that would have provided such a grin of satisfaction on the handsome face.

  “What did you say to them?” Scott had asked, only to feel his jaw drop when Hank had offered an exultant “Nothing!” He’d studied Hank’s face for a few moments, trying to figure out if he’d been joking, but Hank had, in fact, done nothing.

  “I walked by them, nodded, smiled, and went to the men’s room. When I came out, they were gone, but they knew they’d been caught.”

  Scott had been momentarily confused, asking for some explanation as to why Hank would not use this against them. The slow, triumphant grin that had slowly found its way to the handsome face was the only answer Scott had needed. “You figured you’d keep this particular ace in your back pocket, just to keep them on their best behavior?”

  Hank had nodded, wrapping his arms around his lover, and Scott had been unable to refuse the full lips that searched for his. “Brilliant,” Scott had whispered when Hank had come up for some air, thanking his lover for the compliment and then asking, “And how was your day?” With some trepidation, Scott told him.

  After sitting motionless for a few moments, his emerald-green eyes fixed on Scott’s, Hank had finally offered a slight shrug and a slow smile. “I guess my excuse is gone now.” Scott had had no need to ask what that excuse was. Sandra had been pleasant—direct, but pleasant—to Scott. There was no yelling, no recriminations, no insults thrown by anyone. Sandra had been civil.

  Hank had pushed himself off the sofa and, in two large strides, had swept Scott into his arms, kissing his neck, his ears, his lips. “Why did I ever believe that you couldn’t handle it?” Hank had asked while Scott freed himself to rewrite the phone number on a fresh piece of paper. Hank had studied it for a few moments, and then Scott had announced that they would be having cheese-stuffed hoagies. And even though Scott knew by then that they wouldn’t be needed after all, the glint in those beautiful green eyes had made Scott happy he’d gone to the trouble. “Wow, this has definitely been my day!” Hank had said as he pulled his lover into another tight embrace. As they pulled apart and Scott went to check on dinner, he’d turned to regard Hank, explaining that the day wasn’t over yet, that there might be another few surprises in store.

  Scott peered around the kitchen door, wondering if Hank had called and was sitting with his head in his hands, as he was now, because the call had not gone well. He pulled his head back into the kitchen, grabbing the sponge and paper towels, cleaning the already-spotless stovetop as Hank appeared in the doorway.

  “Hey,” Scott said, trying his best to sound surprised, or at least as if he didn’t know that Hank would come to him eventually. “How’d it go?”

  “I chickened out,” Hank admitted as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned his massive deltoid against the doorjamb.

  “No worries,” Scott soothed, “you’ll get there eventually.” He moved to stand in front of Hank, his hands coming instinctively to rest on Hank’s muscular chest, rubbing a few times before leaning up to offer a kiss. He thought of admitting that he’d found himself vacillating when it actually came time to make the phone call, but he didn’t want to distract Hank with the fact that he’d been planning this and yet had said nothing to Hank.

  “I know.” Hank allowed himself to be led back to the sofa and pulled Scott onto his lap. “It’s kind of scary. I mean, now that it’s just sinking in, I’m kind of scared of what she might say to me.”

  Scott leaned back, his buttocks pressing against Hank’s thighs while his hands reached up to knead and press the tense muscles of Hank’s neck and shoulders. He smiled indulgently and waited for Hank to work all of this out on his own.

  “I… uh… haven’t really been, exactly, honest with you about what happened, you know, between me and my family.”

  “What do you mean?” Scott avoided allowing his eyes to meet Hank’s, choosing instead to find something fascinating to study on the well-muscled shoulder. Sandra had mentioned something about letting Hank tell Scott how her brother had left things with the family. Scott had been intrigued enough to give it some thought while he’d been preparing Hank’s favorite meal, but he finally admitted to himself that short of multiple murders, he would never be able to find the big guy guilty of anything other than loneliness and confusion.r />
  “The last time I saw my family, I, uh….” Hank reached up and took Scott’s hands in his, forcing Scott to look down at the confused expression and the timid eyes. “I’m not proud of it, but I’d been on a bit of a bender… feeling sorry for myself… and… I showed up to a family dinner… and… when my father started in on me about getting married and doing my family duty, I, uh….” Hank closed his eyes, and his grip on Scott’s hands grew tighter, as if he feared Scott, upon hearing the rest of the family drama, would try to get away, never to return. So Scott brought his hands to his mouth, kissing each of Hank’s in turn. Hank offered a resigned smile and opened his eyes again. “I told him that I didn’t want to take the chance on turning out to be the kind of father he’d been.”

  Scott waited for the rest, but when Hank’s shoulders sank and the frightened look on his face abated, he realized that this was the entire story. He smiled to cover the chuckle of disbelief that threatened and leaned forward until he was kissing the rest of the worry from his lover’s face. “That doesn’t sound like you,” Scott offered. “I mean, I don’t know what you were like back then, but I find it hard to believe it wasn’t the drinking and the lifestyle that did the talking for you.”

  “I don’t know,” Hank said with a sigh. “Even from the distance of all these years, he still seems to have been an unbearable control freak, always telling me that what I did wasn’t good enough or that he’d always expected more out of me.”

  Scott moved off of Hank’s lap, sitting beside him then, letting one hand rest on the broad chest while the other combed idly at the chestnut locks. “But you’re not the same person you were all those years ago, so maybe he’s changed as well.”

  “Maybe,” Hank admitted, and he pushed himself off the sofa, holding out a hand to Scott. When he took Hank’s hand, Scott felt himself pulled to his feet and led to the stairs. “What do you say we forget about this for tonight and go take a shower? Then, we’ll come back down here and put in a movie and pretend we’re teenagers at a movie theatre.”

  “We could put in that pirate movie,” Scott said as he was led to the stairs. “Who knows? Maybe this time we’ll actually make it all the way to the end.”

  HANK wasn’t surprised at all that Captain Jack Sparrow and his merry band of cohorts had been forgotten once again. He’d been lying with his Scrappy on the sofa, his head in Scott’s lap, the gentle yet insistent caressing keeping his mind from anything but the feel of those long fingers on his scalp and back. But this time he’d managed to make it almost a full hour before lifting his head and looking into Scott’s eyes, his message clear and unmistakable. After the television and the porch light had been extinguished, he’d led the smaller man up the stairs to their bedroom and the comfort of the king-size bed.

  Scott had pulled the sheets back and turned to Hank, his hands working quickly to remove the soft cotton T-shirt and plaid boxers. Without removing his own T-shirt and boxers, Scott had kneeled before Hank’s already-erect cock and begun the ministrations that made it impossible for the logger to think of anything or anyone else. While he moved his hands achingly slowly over Hank’s thighs, ass, and balls, massaging and caressing, his tongue found its way in between the sensitive head and the protective foreskin of Hank’s dick. Hank closed his eyes, as if someone else were controlling his actions via remote control. It was this feeling of a total loss of control that intoxicated Hank, made him realize that he was powerless before Scott’s attentions. His hands came up to rest gently on either side of Scott’s head, caressing and waiting for the signal that Hank could begin thrusting.

  He grew painfully hard as he thought of what had quickly become a ritual for them. Hank waited, as always, his need and desire growing almost out of control, until Scott had relaxed his throat enough to take the entire length and girth of his lover’s cock. And then, with his hands resting gently, keeping that sweet mouth in the position that would give maximum pleasure, Hank would thrust slowly in and out of his man’s mouth, Scott using his hands to squeeze and pinch, probe and caress, driving Hank into a frenzy of lust and craving. It would end mere seconds later as Hank pulled Scott up, kissing him senseless while the younger man wrapped his talented hands around the spit-soaked shaft and heavy balls.

  Once Hank felt the heat abate slightly, it would be his turn to lay Scott on the bed and crawl between his long legs, his tongue and mouth working slowly to elicit the moans and gasps that would eventually signal that the younger man, burning with need, wanted to be fucked. Hank would start by placing one of Scott’s legs over each of his shoulders or elbows, then push forward slowly but with purpose until he could watch the entire length of himself disappear inside of his Scrappy. It was a sight that never failed to reduce Hank to a quivering ball of insatiable need.

  While Scott’s hands stroked and caressed his flesh, already on fire and overly sensitive, Hank would listen to the combined noises of their lovemaking, Hank’s sharp, repetitive intakes of breath echoed by Scott’s low, husky, sensual moans. With almost every thrust, Hank would look down to see Scott’s head lolling from one side to the other, his eyes fluttering somewhere between open and closed, his hands mapping whatever skin they could reach. Their words were not many whenever they were joined like that unless they were both in need of a quick, dirty fuck. At those times, Scott would astonish his lover with talk so dirty, yet sensual and erotic, that they would both come within mere minutes of the initial contact.

  But moments like this one were different, both men wanting the contact to last forever. Hank wanted to put everything he couldn’t yet say to Scott into an hour or two of kissing, touching, stroking, and fucking. And he’d noticed, more and more, that he preferred these moments of intimacy to the rough and quick fucks that he’d always thought he wanted. Hank had even found himself bottoming more and more on a regular basis. It wasn’t something he enjoyed as much as being inside of Scott, but he was willing to bet that he would eventually enjoy it as much, if not more.

  Two years. They’d been together for two years now, living together for two years, and Hank continued to learn things about his Scrappy. When he’d first met the man back in the hospital two years ago, he’d been able to recognize that Scott was a force of nature, perpetually cheerful and willing to give himself completely to anyone and everyone who needed him. He’d seen something in Hank that no one had ever seen, or that so few had seen that Hank could never remember them, and Hank had very quickly realized it was as if he’d been caught in some warm and inviting pit of quicksand, promising a relief that Hank had never thought possible. He’d not really been able to control himself, allowing himself to relax and experience the warmth and color that was Scott Alan.

  Staring down at the lustful brown eyes of his lover, Hank leaned back on his heels momentarily so that he could move Scott’s right leg so that it was resting on his left, the smaller man’s hips perpendicular to the bed, Hank still pushing in and out slowly, still basking in the sounds that his cock brought out of his lover. Scott gasped, this position allowing Hank to peg his prostate with each thrust, and reached for Hank’s hand. He took Scott’s hand in his and interlaced their fingers, leaning forward so that he could lick and lave each of the slender fingers.

  Neither of them had spoken a word since they’d left the sofa and come upstairs to the bedroom. And neither of them felt the need, Hank knew. Each man knew precisely what made the other lose all control, what the other needed, craved, desired. Hank leaned forward even more, and Scott’s hands came out automatically to stroke and caress and pinch Hank’s sensitive nipples, the fingers carding through the thick, dark chest hair as it slowly became damp with Hank’s perspiration. “Put your legs between mine,” Hank whispered against the hot flesh of Scott’s neck.

  Scott did as he was told, and with a big hand pressed against the soft skin of his back, he was then on his stomach as Hank continued to move in and out slowly. Hank braced his hands, locking his elbows on either side of his lover’s back, his movements increas
ing in intensity, his balls feeling as if they were ready to empty. Scott’s moans and gasps became more frequent, his head beginning to thrash while his hands reached behind him, seeking any contact with Hank’s heated flesh.

  After a few more moments, Hank leaned forward, his thrusting reduced to nothing more than spasms of his twitching cock, and wrapped one arm around Scott’s waist, pulling them both up while using his other arm to push. Without losing any contact, Scott swung his legs up, knees bent, and Hank put his hands under them, immobilizing his lover while he used his arms and hips to begin thrusting wildly in and out of the hole that had begun to clench against his swollen, uncut cock in anticipation.

  He could tell that his Scrappy was close. “Oh, fuck, Hank, fuck, oh, Christ, oh, uhng, Hank.” He knew that when Scott was reduced to babbling, saying his name over and over, it was time to help him along. Hank stopped thrusting up into the tight hole and pulled slowly out of Scott, lowering the smaller man onto his back. Hank pushed against the heated flesh of his lover’s entrance and wrapped Scott’s long legs around his waist. Once safely inside of Scott again, he leaned forward and felt the slender fingers move immediately to brush Hank’s chestnut waves out of his face, both men staring into each other’s eyes intently before Hank’s lips descended to join Scott’s.

  Thrusting wildly with both his tongue and his dick, Hank felt the familiar pressure against his back as his Scrappy pulled himself up to get more friction by rubbing his swollen cock against Hank’s firm abdomen. Hank swallowed all of the grunts and sighs that escaped his lover’s mouth, and then he felt the incredible contractions against his aching cock, the contractions that signaled Scott’s orgasm, and prepared himself for his own release. As had been the case for the past year, his mind recalled the first time they’d been able to make love without the need for a condom.