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still struggling to formulate a reasonable response when Nick started

talking in a jumpy register. ―Never gonna forget that birthday. Ya see,

it was—well, not my fault, I know that….‖ Logan heard a man trying

to convince himself more than his audience but stayed wisely silent as

Nick continued, ―Anyway, I got this basketball hoop for my birthday,

and I wanted to put it up. God forbid the old man help me, you know?‖

His own father would have jumped at the chance to help either of

his sons with such a task, so Logan really couldn‘t relate, but he

nodded, encouraging Nick to go on.

―I wasn‘t allowed to touch his tools, so my mom gave me this

useless old ball-peen hammer used to belong to her dad. I could‘ve

hammered all night with that thing, for all the good it would‘ve done

me, so I snuck into the shed and got my dad‘s brand new hammer

without her knowin‘. Had the hoop up in no time, but I got so excited

with the idea of tryin‘ out my birthday present that I forgot to put the

hammer away—left it layin‘ there in the grass.‖

Logan had a sickening feeling he knew where this was going and

wasn‘t sure he wanted to hear the details, but, remembering how good

it had felt to unburden himself, he prodded, ―Forgot all about it, huh?‖

―Yeah, until I was in school the next day and it started pourin‘

rain.‖ Nick squinted off in the distance, staring at the hazy moon as he

polished off his beer. Seeming fortified, he continued. ―The old man

came home early, found the hammer layin‘ in the mud, and went

berserk.‖ There was a long pause, and Logan thought he might be done,

but with a great heave of his chest, Nick added, ―Beat the hell out of

my mom with it.‖

―Fuckin‘ bastard,‖ Logan fumed, his hands tightening on the neck

of his beer bottle, a poor substitute for the real object of his fury. ―Can‘t

believe a man could do somethin‘ like that to his wife.‖

―I could, with him. I wasn‘t even surprised.‖ Nick hurled his

empty bottle at the recycling bin in the opposite corner, hitting it dead

center. He brushed his hand across his eyes and, in a choked voice,

continued, ―I prayed to God that whole day, begging Him to let me get

home before my dad. I was still sayin‘ ‗please, oh please‘ as I ran home

from the bus stop. Right up ‘til I spotted the ambulance in front of my

house and saw the cops loadin‘ my dad into a squad car. I knew right

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away what‘d happened. Right then I figured out that God—if He

exists—sure don‘t hear the prayers of Nick Zales.‖

Grasping for some comfort to offer, Logan stepped close to Nick,

saying, ―You know, Sister Ciera says when it seems like God‘s

abandoned you, that‘s when He‘s workin‘ the hardest for you.‖

Nick snorted with bitter amusement, retorting, ―Yeah? She also

thinks there‘s hope for guys like my dad.‖

He almost let it go, but something made Logan say, ―And me.‖

―What?‖ Nick was staring at him like he had started speaking in

Swahili.

―They ain‘t all like your dad. Maybe some of them‘re like me.‖

Nick waved his hand as though he were batting Logan‘s

suggestion away. ―You‘re nothin‘ like… those other guys. Any of

‘em.‖

―Bet that ain‘t the way Linda sees it.‖ This was a recent revelation

to Logan, one that he had avoided for months—one that had caused

him some sleepless nights of late. Now that he‘d finally said it out loud,

he was anxious to hear Nick‘s answer.

―Yeah, but that doesn‘t mean….‖ Nick trailed off as he squatted

down to check the burgers. ―They‘re done,‖ he announced a trifle too

heartily. ―Come on, let‘s eat.‖

Logan was as glad to let the unhappy topic drop as he was to eat,

though there was a part of him that wished Nick had finished his

thought. It was good to know Nick didn‘t lump him in with those other

guys, but Logan would have liked to hear the basis for that belief.

Over dinner, Logan told Nick that the machine shop had all of the

Thunderbird‘s reconditioned parts ready, and they could probably

finish the engine that Sunday if they devoted most of the day to the

task.

―Hot damn! You mean it might actually be a car again instead of

lookin‘ like the end row of a junkyard?‖

Logan licked a glob of ketchup and meat juice off his thumb, then

cautioned, ―Well, it‘s still gonna look pretty rough until we get it

painted. Given any thought to what color you want it?‖

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―Red, it‘s gotta be red—just like God intended,‖ Nick laughed.

―First time I ever heard anyone confuse Ford with God.‖

Nick laughed even harder as he stood up and collected their

empty plates. He dumped them unceremoniously in the sink, then

turned towards the table, asking, ―Had enough?‖

Logan jumped up and trapped Nick against the sink, one steely

arm on either side of Nick‘s body. ―Enough food, yeah. But I want you

for dessert,‖ he growled before diving for Nick‘s mouth.

The kiss continued and built upon itself, Nick only briefly

breaking to say, ―You read my mind,‖ before pulling Logan back for

more. Logan ground against Nick‘s hard body and harder erection,

sparks of passion igniting when cock met cock until Nick grabbed his

hand and said, ―Come on, let‘s christen my bed before we think of

doin‘ it in the sink.‖

That startling revelation was tucked away for later contemplation

as Logan eagerly followed Nick up the stairs. When they got to Nick‘s

sparsely furnished bedroom, Logan felt Nick pushing him towards the

bed and was happy to go along for the ride. He felt the edge of the

mattress hit the back of his knees and fell purposely back onto it,

dragging Nick down on top of him.

The solid weight of Nick felt so good, so right, and Logan

tightened his arms to keep that man right where he belonged, though

Nick seemed a most willing prisoner, entwining his legs with Logan‘s

and returning the ardor in full. Logan pulled Nick‘s head down for a

deep, probing kiss, lips rough, tongue wet and voracious, teeth nipping

at tender lips; Logan moaned deep in his throat, wanting more contact.

There was too much cloth between them, he wanted—
needed
—to feel

Nick naked against him, needed it now.

Reading his mind or the tremors in his body, Nick joined Logan

in removing any obstacles, stripping clothing off himself and off

Logan. After shucking his jeans, Logan reached into the pocket and

pulled out his ―goods.‖ He dropped the brand new condoms and lube

on the rumpled sheets, grinning proudly at Nick. Nick laughed in

return, pointing at the bedside stand where a twin set of supplies

waited. Logan threw his jeans over the edge of the bed and smirked at

his lover, saying, ―Well, that should last us—for tonight.‖

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Nick seemed to agree with that sentiment, rolling on top again

until he was straddling Logan. A wicked smile lit those intense brown

eyes from within as Nick bent down and puffed in his ear, ―Been

thinking of this all day. Thinking of what I was going to do to you, how

you was gonna taste and look….‖ He breathed in deep, adding, ―And

smell.‖

Logan groaned deep in his throat, his cock growing ever more

erect; his eyes fluttered closed when he felt a tongue snaking from the

side of his neck down to his collarbone, felt the mouth grow more

demanding, sucking and biting. Logan knew there was going to be a

mark there but couldn‘t care right then, was inspired to launch his own

attack on Nick‘s neck, intending to return the favor and finding the

taste of Nick‘s skin and sweat enthralling.

By the time Nick thrust his slick fingers into Logan, he was more

than ready for the welcome intrusion and thrust down greedily onto

Nick‘s hand. Logan was taken with the sight of Nick‘s face—pupils

dilated with lust, tousled hair looking wild. He didn‘t want to lose that

view, delighted to do it this way, so glad when Nick pulled his legs up

and placed his cock in position.

Nick teasingly placed only the tip inside and then, committing

sweet torture, ever so slowly thrust inside. The rhythm gradually picked

up until each stroke was pushing Logan higher and higher, nothing

could be better—until Nick grabbed his heated cock and started

stroking him inside and out. He was nearly delirious with the sensation

of Nick being everywhere, his body surrounded by Nick, wrapped

securely in his man.

Logan struggled to keep his eyes open despite the overwhelming

sensations, wanting to watch Nick this time, see the obvious pleasure

dripping off him. His own nerves were singed by the sight. Logan

couldn‘t stand it any more, had to let go, found that watching his come

splatter onto Nick‘s chest had to be the most goddamned erotic thing

he‘d ever seen. An elated grin stretched across his face as Nick joined

him in orgasm seconds later. Nick kept them joined for a shuddering

moment, then rolled off and collapsed onto the mattress, allowing

Logan to stretch his long legs out with a primal groan of satisfaction

and pull his lover into the sheltering circle of his arm.

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NICK woke with Logan‘s body half-draped around his. He‘d never

been one for cuddling, and neither had most of the men he‘d slept with,

but something about this was okay. More than okay. It was damn good.

A tongue rasping against the back of his neck and a deep rumble in his

ear, ―Mmmm,‖ let Nick know that Logan was also awake.

He let Logan continue his ministrations for a few seconds before

stretching and rolling over to give his bed partner a cheeky grin. ―I see

you‘re up.‖

―Not yet, but I‘m gettin‘ there,‖ Logan joked, though his eyes

were searching the bedside table. Nick figured Logan was looking at

the clock and glanced over to see that it was 10:30.
Still time for

another round—I hope.
However, Logan evidently hadn‘t found what

he needed on the table, since he was now looking over at Nick‘s

dresser.

―What‘re you lookin‘ for?‖

―An ashtray.‖ Logan pushed the sweaty blond strands off his face,

saying, ―Guess you don‘t smoke in here, huh?‖

―I don‘t smoke at all.‖

―Oh, right.‖ Logan shrugged sheepishly. ―Been thinking of

quitting, myself. Krista nags me ‘bout it all the time.‖

―Good idea,‖ Nick declared, though he didn‘t mind the smoky

taste that was part of Logan‘s unique tang. It reminded him of his own

days as a smoker. Nick leaned in for a quick kiss before pulling back to

say, ―It‘s rough to quit. I won‘t lie to you ‘bout that.‖

Though apparently engrossed in playing with the damp curls on

Nick‘s chest, Logan asked, ―You used to smoke?‖

―Yeah, all through high school. Then I showed up at Carnegie-

Mellon, and it seemed like none of the kids in my classes smoked. It

was bad enough being a scholarship kid—didn‘t need ‘nother reason to

stick out.‖

‖Seems to me havin‘ a scholarship is somethin‘ to be proud of.‖

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―Not at that school.‖ Nick paused as memories of those first

lonely weeks at college, when he was sure he‘d never fit in, rushed

upon him. ―And especially not my scholarship. See, it was for… kids

who….‖ Nick swallowed, wondering why this was so hard—surely

Logan had guessed the rest by now.

―Kids who were gay?‖ Logan ventured into the breach.

That suggestion pulled a surprised laugh out of Nick, and he

relaxed slightly, enough to say, ―No. Carnegie-Mellon wasn‘t looking

to build a super-race of genius queers. Besides, I didn‘t even come out

‘til my junior year.‖ He forced the rest out in a rush. ―It was a partial

scholarship for kids with a parent in prison.‖ Nick snorted, ―I was able

to go to CMU ‘cause my dad went to Fayette County.‖

Logan reached over to massage Nick‘s shoulder gently while

asking, ―Is that where he died?‖

―He ain‘t dead—‘cept to me,‖ Nick answered sourly.
Wish he

was
. ―He would‘ve been due to get out soon, but he got some years

tacked on back when he first went in.‖

―Why?‖

―I heard he caused a bunch of trouble his first few years in the

place.‖

―You ain‘t never gone to see him?‖ Logan asked, pulling Nick

close.

Nick snuggled in gratefully, murmuring, ―Hell no. What for? So I

can thank him for making me an accessory to the crime?‖