Chapter 27 - Chocolate.

I stayed over at Eggy’s again that night, only this time I wasn’t relegated to the guest room, and that made all the difference in the world. We read some more in Billy’s journal, we talked, we kissed and, before we finally settled down for the night, we once again did our sorta, kinda, partially clothed and fully suited up, sex thing. Don’t judge! It worked for us and that was all that mattered.

Unfortunately, my winter break was over and I had to go back to school again the following morning. It was probably for the best, though, because Eggy needed to work too and we couldn’t spend ALL our time in bed together. I wish! Anyway, I headed off to class, ready to start in on a whole new term of projects and fun while Egbert headed to his office for the day.

I was more than happy with my new classes. The Graphic Design course I’d signed up for was going to be fun, as was the printmaking class, but it was the Painting Processes class that I was really looking forward to, even though it would probably be the most challenging. And, for my core classes, I was taking a History of the Renaissance class as well as Modern Poetry, both of which should be a relatively easy ‘A’ for me as I’d had similar classes in High School.

In between my classes, I continued to read through Billy’s Journal. The entries were definitely beginning to heat up as the year progressed. Throughout March and into April, Peebles’ name began to show up more and more often. Reading between the lines, I could tell that Andrew was wooing Billy pretty hard. And, maybe I was reading too much into the narrative because of my own bias, but it seemed to me like Billy was reluctant to accept all of Andrew’s overtures, even though he was obviously enjoying all the new and likely eye opening experiences that being Andrew’s acolyte afforded. Reading about it all, though, felt a bit like reading some Victorian romance novel, what with all the veiled yet steamy references to sex. If Billy was getting laid even half as much as he alluded to, that boy must have been busy.

I was immersed in reading another such passage while I chowed down on my lunch in the TAIP cafeteria when my romantic fantasies were interrupted by the arrival of a group of friends who came to join my table. I happily made room for them, clearing away my drawing pad and the random pencils I’d left scattered around, and set Billy’s journal aside as well. It wasn’t until Patrick and Connor took up their seats across from me that I noticed Zeboria, the third member of the group, wasn’t alone. Z was accompanied by none other than my old stalker, Ethan Gold. What made it even worse was, by the time Z took a seat next to Connor, the only chair left at our table was the one right next to me.

“Hey, J, you know Ethan, right?” Zeboria introduced us, oblivious to the disdainful look I was already shooting the musician.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” I responded tersely without even gracing the newcomer seated beside me with so much as a glance.

Ethan returned the favor, ignoring me back, which was fine with me actually. I had nothing to say to him. But it probably wasn’t surprising that I didn’t stick around for long after that. I just didn’t feel comfortable around Ethan any more, especially knowing his propensity for reading some tacit hint of attraction into my every action. I had just barely managed to get him to back off after our blow up, and the last thing I needed was for him to mistakenly think I’d changed my mind. So I soon scarfed down what was left of my lunch, said goodbye to my friends, and made my escape. And, since it was almost time for me to get to my Poetry class, I went straight to that classroom and killed the time until the professor arrived by reading more from Billy.

After that class was over, I rushed away from campus as fast as I could. I know I’d only just left Egbert’s a few hours earlier, but I was almost desperate to get back to him. Young love and all, right? While I was waiting for the bus, however, I noticed how horribly chapped my lips were - collateral damage from all the kissing Eggy and I had been doing lately, I suppose - and decided to pop into the corner pharmacy to get some lip balm. I needed to have soft, supple, kissable lips for my Brian, right?

Probably due to the horribly cold weather Pittsburgh had been suffering through, the display for my favorite type of lip balm - Burt’s Bees - was empty. I asked the clerk if he had more and he agreed to to go check for me in the back. While I was waiting, I ambled around the store, perusing the shelves, only half paying attention to what I was seeing since my mind was still caught up in the story from Billy’s journal.

It wasn’t until my rambling took me down the aisle where they kept the ‘intimate personal care’ items that I started to pay attention. This particular pharmacy, which was right off Liberty Avenue, seemed to have a larger than normal stock of these items. There was everything a gay man or woman might need: special soaps for intimate places, gels and creams with uses I didn’t want to think about, and about a dozen different kinds of hemorrhoid cures. There was also a whole section dedicated solely to lubricants. Who even knew that they had that many types of lube? I longingly looked at a few of the more interesting offerings, but knew it was gonna be quite some time before Eggy and I would need that. However, right next to the lubes was another display of items the two of us could put to use right away - condoms!

I enthusiastically scanned through the truly impressive selection the store carried; there were just so many fun options! I quickly skipped over all the ribbed and textured types, because we weren’t ready for that yet, before I came across several kinds of of flavored condoms. That gave me a wickedly decadent idea and I immediately picked out two boxes. Luckily, the clerk returned ten seconds later with my lip balm and I was off, fully supplied with everything I’d need for Eggy’s next big adventure!

Twenty minutes later I was kicking at the lobby door of Brian’s building, my hands filled with our usual coffee drinks, and my mind occupied with this evening’s plans for my hermit’s delectable body. Brian and Bill were both galloping down the stairs a half a minute later and they both looked happy to see me. I almost didn’t have time to open Bill’s creamer before Bill’s person grabbed my hand and started towing me up the stairs so fast I almost fell over my own feet. I guess Brian was just as eager to see me as I was to see him.

As soon as we reached Brian’s room on the top floor, he towed me over to the couch and pulled me down into his lap. It’s not like I was gonna object or anything, but the urgency of his actions was kinda sweet. Before I knew what hit me, his lips had suctioned themselves to my own and we were right back where we’d left off earlier that morning.

I seriously can’t remember the last time I had actually sat down and made out with someone for so long. Things had definitely progressed between Brian and I; we kissed practically every time we saw each other, we regularly participated in deliciously wet handjobs in the shower, and then last night we’d more or less fucked with our clothes on. It was the closest his dick had ever gotten to my ass, and damn it had felt good. If you had told me a few months ago that I would get off from dry humping a hot guy, with a condom and pair of sweats between us, I would have laughed in your face. But somehow it ended up being one of the hottest and most intense sexual experiences of my life. Hell, if and when we actually do get to fuck, I’ll probably die from the pleasure of it all. Anyway, that experience already felt like too long ago, what with a whole school day in the middle and all. And I was more than happy, as soon as I arrived at my Eggy’s tower that afternoon, to be greeted with a good old kissathon.

“I love kissing you,” I whispered, as I pulled back slightly and rubbed our noses together like some love sick fool, which caused Brian to shake his head and laugh at me, before he pulled me back in for some more wet, open-mouthed lip locking.

At some point in the proceedings, I felt Brian scoot back a little in his seat on the couch and bring one of his legs up onto the sofa. He then moved me so I was sitting in between his thigh, my legs draped over the top of his. I loved being surrounded by him like that. His dick was already rock hard and pressing against the fly of his jeans and it reminded me of the little present I had picked up on my way over. I couldn’t wait to get started on the experiment I had planned; I hoped I wasn’t pushing things with Brian, but if he let me . . . Fuck, I couldn’t even think about it what I would do if he agreed. Or, for that matter, what I’d do if he didn’t agree.

“What’s up?” Eggy asked as he felt me pull back and reach for my bag that I’d dumped on the floor next to the sofa.

I felt for the box with my hand and threw it into Brian’s lap, making sure that I watched his face carefully to see what sort of reaction this little gift of mine would make.

He scrunched his nose up and looked at me. “Flavored condoms?”

“Sooo, here’s what I was thinking,” I jumped in quickly as I didn’t want Eggy to start jumping to conclusions in his head, the way I knew he would.

“I love your cock,” I told him honestly. I smiled over at him and reached down, making sure to give him a nice, firm squeeze through his jeans. The feeling of his dick swelling through the material was almost enough for me to lose my train of thought.

“Really? I would never guess,” he groaned quietly, but smiled as he continued teasing me, his body subconsciously moved him further down the sofa cushions so that he was practically slouching. “You should make it more obvious.”

“Well, funny you should say that, because I was thinking . . .” I picked the box back up and bit down nervously on the cardboard. I wasn’t sure what I was nervous about exactly, because I wanted this . . . and I wanted Brian to want it just as much as me.

“. . .” he gestured with his hand that I should continue talking.

Like the smooth guy that I am, I ended up blurting it out. “I want to suck you off.”

Brian’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“Justin . . . I don’t know if I . . .”

There goes that damn brain of his again, I wish it would mind its own fucking business.

“Just listen to me, ‘kay?” I asked, placing my hand back on his denim clad dick.

Brian nodded and nudged my hand to continue its exploring.

“I know this might not be something you’re ready to do on me . . . yet . . . and I’m totally okay with that,” I assured him. “But I thought maybe with a condom on you might be alright with me doing it to you.”

I watched as he took in everything I had said, his tongue was nestled deep into his cheek as though he was contemplating something.

“So, why the flavors?”

I shrugged. “I thought it would be fun.”

“Are you saying sucking my plain flavored, condom-covered dick would be boring?” The asshole was smirking . . . but did this mean he was okay with my plan?

“Yeah who wants plain and boring, when you can have . . .” I turned the box over and read through the selection contained within, picking out one flavor at random. “Bubblegum.”

“No.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Oooh, cake batter.” I licked my lips and ripped open the box, giving it a quick sniff.

“You are not making my dick taste like a fucking birthday cake.” It was quite funny how appalled he actually looked.

I wrinkled my nose at the next one. “Ewww, bacon.”

“Well, it IS a tasty piece of meat . . .”

I threw my head back and laughed. It didn’t matter how much I loved bacon, that was definitely not the one I would be picking. “Okay, if you’re not up for one of the more exotic flavors, that leaves either chocolate or vanilla . . . I think I’m going to go with vanilla,” I smiled at my choice.

“I think I object to my cock being called ‘vanilla’,” Eggy protested with a shake of his head.

“Fine. Sheesh. For someone who wasn’t sure he even wanted to do this, you’re sure bossy,” I complained, pulling the one last non-objectionable flavor out of the box and trailing the scratchy edge of the packaging down his abs. “That leaves only chocolate. Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Picky?”

“I suppose.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m not that bothered, pick whatever you want. . .”

I easily saw through his pretend indifference. His already hard dick was now straining at the restriction of his jeans, making the fabric pull against the buttons. My guy was just as excited about the prospect of this new permutation as I was. Which meant it was time to move things along here.

I made short work of those buttons, opening the fly of his jeans, pulling his briefs down, and releasing the beast within. Damn, I wasn’t just kidding about how much I had come to love his dick. Once freed, it stood there, sprouting from the center of a bed of curly, dark auburn pubes, projecting upwards, tall and proud, the color an almost angry mauve except for the lighter-colored cap, and the texture all smooth, silk-covered steel. My mouth literally watered as I looked at it. I wanted to take him between my lips and taste him so badly. So bad in fact that I had to reach into my pants and give myself a hard squeeze to try and ease some of the pressure in my own dick.

It was a temptation too strong to resist, even though I knew Eggy wasn’t completely there yet, but I just HAD to bend down and leave one, tiny, closed-mouthed kiss right on the leaking tip. Even that small transgression was too much for him, though, and I felt him shift away from me. I had to rein myself in; I wanted to do this right for him, and for me, not cause him distress. So, before I could get myself into trouble, I quickly tore open the condom packet with my teeth, extracted the chocolate-brown piece of latex, and immediately began rolling it over the object of my attentions. I felt Brian relax slightly the second I started. Oh well, I’d have to set aside my fantasies about tasting him for another time. Still, I managed to lick my lips surreptitiously while Brian’s eyes were closed, savoring the small sample of his jizz that remained from my kiss, and told myself I could wait for more.

I didn’t have the leisure of dwelling in my fantasies for long, though - I had a task to accomplish - so I re-focused my attention on the work in front of me. I finished sheathing him up and then resituated myself so I was kneeling on the floor between his wide spread knees. I made a few passes with my hand up and down his length just to renew his hard on and then it was go time. I slowly leaned forward, trying to eke out the anticipation a little longer, teasing him by hovering just millimeters from making contact, and causing him to cant his hips upward in frustration. I capitulated with a chuckle, opening wide and letting my lips slide down, over the swollen head, past the ridge at the bottom of the flared cap, and then further still, until I felt his dick tickling against the back of my palate. I hummed approvingly and pulled back just far enough so my tongue could circle around him, licking at the chocolatey tasting condom with approval. It wasn’t bad. I would have still loved tasting him raw instead, but until that happened, this was acceptable.

“Mmmmm. That feels so . . . oh, fuck, Sunshine,” Brian started to moan and babble as I set to work for real. He was pulling at my hair with both hands as if searching for a real handhold. I loved that I seemed able to break through the stoic front he usually tried to maintain. And the more I sucked and licked and hummed around his dick, the more vocal my stylite became. “Shit! More . . . More . . . There, yes . . . Oh, fuck . . .”

It really didn’t take long at all. In less than ten minutes I could tell he was ready to shoot. I began to massage his balls with one hand while I snaked the other up his chest, twisting one perky nipple for added effect. I could hear the uptick in his rate of breathing and feel the way his body was practically vibrating. I was almost getting off just listening to his joyful little moans and gurgles. And then there was the familiar moment when it all came together; his balls contracted and the cock in my mouth bucked as I sucked him as deeply as I could go. I felt him shaking through his orgasm, the reservoir at the tip of the condom filling and heating up, and then he slumped backwards like his bones had all melted in the conflagration.

I sat back and smiled smugly up at him. “Proud of yourself?” he asked.

“Exceedingly!” I winked, before reaching into my bag and pulling out some napkins I’d grabbed with that afternoon's coffee run. I then carefully peeled the condom off of Brian, making sure nothing leaked, and patted him clean with my napkins. Once the condom was wrapped up and safely out of sight I couldn’t help but ask, despite knowing full well I was a solid 10, because if there’s one thing I exceed at in this world, it’s sucking cock, but still, I was curious . . . “So, how did I do?”

“Brat!”

“Shut up. You know you love my bratty side.” I laughed heartily as I reached down and began to pull his boxers and jeans back up for him. Brian helped out by lifting his ass up without me even having to ask, demonstrating just how comfortable the man had become with our escapades. I was training him so well. I then crawled up and made myself comfortable on his lap, curling around him like a needy kitten.

“May I help you?” He asked, smiling one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen from him.

“I’m hungry,” I blurted out. Sometimes I swear I have no control over what I’m about to say.

“You just ate,” he chuckled.

“Eating your cock doesn’t count, even if it did taste like chocolate. I need real carbs, damn it!” I insisted. “Actually, I need chocolate. Ooooo, I know! I want some M&Ms! Your choco-cock gave me a craving.”

“I don’t keep that shit in my house.”

I exhaled dramatically. “I know. Which means I’m going to have to venture out and get something. I may die of hunger otherwise.”

Reluctantly I climbed down off his comfy lap and sighed. I noticed the abandoned coffees sitting on the nearby table. They were obviously cold by that point, so basically inedible. So much for my coffee-based-OCD therapy for that afternoon.

Brian must have noticed the direction of my gaze as he offered a sort of apology. “I didn’t mean to distract you and waste your coffee.”

“No problem, it was definitely worth it - anyway, I can get more if I’m going out for chocolate.”

He seemed sheepish, “I’d offer to pay but I don’t actually have any cash in the house . . .” He looked uncomfortable for a minute but then bravely finished what he had been going to say. “. . . paper money kinda grosses me out anyway. Too many people touch it. It’s better to just buy over the internet, you know?”

“I know, Eggy,” I reassured him that I understood with a squeeze to his shoulder. “But no worries. I have a punch card somewhere in here.” I pulled the item out of the front pocket of my bag triumphantly. “And, since I’ve already bought you 10 drinks, the next one is free!”

“Frugal . . .” he conceded.”

“You forget, I’m a starving artist. I have to pinch pennies,” I explained. Before heading to the door, though, I remembered the other thing besides the flavored condoms that I’d been excited to share with my hermit that day, and fished Billy’s journal out of my bag as well. “While I’m gone, you should check out the entries for the beginning of May. There’s some interesting things going on in your building in those entries.”

Brian used a couple of tissues to take the book out of my hand and then I was off to scavenge myself some sugar and caffeine to tide me over till dinner.

When I came back about half an hour later, a bag full of junk food and two fresh coffees in my hands, Brian was still on the sofa where I’d left him, the journal in his lap, and a thoughtful look on his handsome face.

“Found anything good?” I asked, handing him the Chai Tea I’d bought him - which he took right off the bat without any hesitation at all, my brave boy!

Brian seemed too engrossed in what he was reading to even notice that he’d taken a sip of the tea. I silently thrilled at the progress we were making. Not that I would ever say anything, because why jinx it, right? I was glad to see that he seemed to like the chai, though, judging by the way he stopped after that first taste, took a deeper sniff at the steam wafting out of the hole in the lid, and then tried another, larger, sip. It seemed we had a winner in the drinks department.

“I found the entry for the day Peebles finished the building,” Brian advised, setting aside the drink to raise the book he’d been reading. “May 6, 1885: Today was the celebration marking the completion of my dear Andrew’s building. It is a truly exemplary edifice; the bold triangular design, the noble architecture, not to mention the fact that it is now the tallest structure in the vicinity, all make it stand out from the more menial buildings that surround it. I could not be prouder of Andrew and was gratified to have been included amongst those at the ribbon cutting to commemorate the occasion. I am obviously not alone in these sentiments either, if the turn out for the Opening Day Ceremonies are anything to judge by; at times the gathering looked more like a City Council meeting than a party. I also finally met Andrew’s partner - the heretofore mysterious and faceless J. Frick - who attended the festivities with his wife, Alma. Mr. Frick was quite solicitous and charming, doing his best to make one and all feel appreciated, all while working diligently to find takers for the remaining offices that are as yet unlet. I was entirely won over by the man, so much so that I allowed myself to be persuaded to accept an invitation to take tea with the Fricks next Tuesday . . .”

Brian handed the journal over to me so I could scan the entry myself as he added, “Looks like Peebles better watch out; his boy has what they would have called back then, ‘a wandering eye’.”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but Frick was married - we know that from the history book you have in your office - so I doubt Peebles was too worried.”

“Married, but obviously not above cheating on said wife. Besides, he wouldn’t be the first gay man to have a wife and family. Weren't you the one talking about how closeted they all were back then? A wife can make for a great beard, you know,” Brian hypothesized.

By that point I’d already flopped down on the sofa next to my Eggy and ripped into the bag of M&Ms I’d brought back with me. Brian gave me a look that probably had something to do with the fact I was eating with my hands right out of the bag, but I figured it was good for him to constantly push his limits, so I just carried on. Meanwhile I skimmed over the next few entries of Billy’s memories until I found another interesting one.

“Hmm. You may be right, Eggy. Listen to this: ‘May 11, 1885: Andrew and I joined Mr. Frick and his wife for tea this evening. It was an eminently pleasant experience. Mrs. Frick is an accomplished artist and took the occasion to present her husband and his partner with a lovely drawing she had done of the completed building.' So that answers the mystery of who drew that picture of the building at least,” I commented before delving back into the journal. “‘Andrew vowed to hang this wonderful piece of art in a place of prominence in the Boardroom, which greatly pleased the artist. The evening was only marred when Mrs. Frick was forced to excuse herself on account of a troublesome bout of neuralgia. However, after our female companion withdrew, we men took ourselves off to Andrew’s basement hideaway for more manly pursuits than tea (comprised mostly of cigars and brandy). I was loathe to agree to this relocation at first, fearful of the reaction Andrew and I might get from Frick, but was quickly dissuaded from my trepidation. Frick proved perfectly convivial and accepting of our special arrangement. He assured me, repeatedly, that he and Andrew had an understanding and, although he himself was a married man, he had no antipathy towards those of us inclined towards perpetual bachelorhood. And so the evening passed in happy comradeship.”

“Well, at least he wasn’t a homophobe,” Brian concluded.

“If Frick and Peebles were business partners, I suppose he would have had to know something was off about him. I wonder how Alma felt about all that, though? Based on that letter she wrote Jay, I’d say she was a lot less open minded than her husband.”

“Or, maybe it was just the adultery thing rather than the gay thing,” Brian suggested. “I hear women are kinda uptight about that shit?”

I laughed because Eggy’s take on things was so warped sometimes - especially since he knew nothing about women whatsoever - but his skewed perspective was one of the reasons I loved him. I liked being shown the world from a different angle. I liked trying to figure him out. I liked the challenge of him. Fuck, I’m so pathetic, aren’t I? Oh well, it seemed to work for us, so why fight it.

And speaking of the two of us working so well together . . . I wiggled around on the sofa, making myself even more comfortable, with my head in Brian’s lap and my feet propped up on the far armrest, my bag of chocolates close by, and the journal resting against a convenient pillow. Eggy used his left arm to help steady the book and with his free hand he began to play with my hair. And then, once we were all settled again, we dove back into the mystery of our long-dead lovers, losing track of time as we read about the difficulties of gay life back in the nineteenth century.

“Oh, hey, look!” I pointed out an entry from mid-June to the man who was reading over my shoulder. “This explains why the tunnel didn’t just end at the Liberty Hotel . . . ‘While the expedient of our secret underground entrance to Beefy’s Bagnio has worked quite well so far, I fear that my father is becoming suspicious of the excessive visits I have been making to Andrew’s offices. From certain comments he let slip yesterday evening at a social event we were all obligated to attend at the Club, it appears that he is becoming critical of a certain local architect. This negativity raised its head while Father and Uncle were again discussing the proposed Library plans and their search for an architect. I spoke up immediately in favor of Andrew, wherein my father commented that it has already become more than clear just how much I favored Mr. Peebles. And again, later, when I saw Uncle conversing with Andrew’s primary rival, Mr. Henry Hobson Richardson, I tried to redirect his attentions back towards my own favorite architect, only to be whisked away by Father for yet another lecture. Father was very pointed about his disapproval of how much time I had been spending in Mr. Peebles’ company of late, and how many in our social circle have begun whispering about our association. Needless to say, Father was not at all pleased, as he is always so very defensive on the matter of our family’s reputation. I fear that I must curtail my future visits to Andrew’s abode or risk not only exposing our special kindredship but possibly also harming Andrew’s future professional opportunities. However, when I quietly mentioned the same to him later that night, Andrew refused to concede to my warnings. He professed that he can not bear the thought of the two of us parting and insisted that he will somehow find another solution. When I jokingly suggested that he would have to build us yet another tunnel so that I can be NOT seen going to his building so as to NOT be seen going to Beefy’s, he actually thought that a brilliant suggestion. At this rate, it seems, Andrew will be forced to build us tunnels all over the city just so we can carry on with our clandestine activities. I do not know how this will end . . .’”

“Man, Peebles really must’ve had it bad for Young Billy,” Brian stated, voicing the exact same thing I’d been thinking. “I mean, come on . . . how many tunnels did this guy think he could get away with building just so nobody would know he was boning the son of one of the City’s most prominent leaders?”

“Well, we know he got away with at least one more, since that tunnel that leads from your basement to the Hotel Liberty goes on from there to points unknown,” I concluded with a sigh, setting aside the book and twisting around so I was looking directly up at my man. “And I think it was romantic the way Peebles was trying to do everything he could to protect Billy. I mean, think of all the effort and expense he went to. Even if those tunnels were basically already started by the City for sewer lines or something, somebody obviously made them much more extensive and much less sewer-like, and that couldn’t have been easy. Peebles was obviously willing to move mountains - or at least tunnel through mountains - for his lover. You don’t think that’s kinda sweet?”

“I think it’s kinda foolish,” was Brian’s no-nonsense judgment. “Peebles was risking a hell of a lot - his entire career - just for a nice piece of chicken? I hope this Billy kid was worth it.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, a little put off by my boyfriend’s unromantic side. “Makes you wonder though . . . where does that other arm of the tunnel go to?”