September 1978, Provincetown, Massachusetts
Garrett shivered as he leaned over the sink and shut the window. The late summer chill had finally arrived. The last of their summer guests had checked out earlier in the day. Only one couple remained. They’d stay the night and although the inn wasn’t completely empty, it would be quiet until the warm weather in the spring.
As he picked up the tray of drinks and snacks he’d prepared, he uncovered legal papers and an empty envelope addressed to his dad.
Divorce papers.
After ten years, Elsie finally served Allen. Guilt darted through Garrett’s throat into his stomach. He took a deep breath. Long ago, he’d relinquished responsibility for the failure of his father’s second marriage, but the remorse dissipated when he read Allen’s signature in blue ink as requested by the document. Allen had never blamed him.
Garrett tucked the papers into the drawer beneath the counter so no one else could see them. He picked up the tray again and carried it through the hall to the front office. As he walked through, he looked around to make sure everything was tucked in for the night. The sign on the front door facing inside said, “Open, Come on in,” with directions for getting hold of them in the middle of the night, should anyone need a room, facing out. His Chippendale desk was immaculate, ledgers and guest registers put away in their respective drawers. His pride and joy, the desk was both a find and steal at one of the many auctions Garrett and Eron attended during the winter months. With Garrett’s knowledge of furniture and style and Eron’s negotiating skills, they’d furnished their entire bed and breakfast inn with second-hand and antique furniture.
Garrett switched off the light with his elbow so only one small lamp on the desk glowed. It illuminated the bell and the sign that said, “Ring for Service.” He turned and started up the stairs, but nearly dropped the entire tray when the cat screeched after he stepped on her tail.
“I’m sorry, Miss Puss,” Garrett said to her. She didn’t like him anyway, but hopefully she’d forgive him by the time five A.M. came and he gave her breakfast.
Garrett climbed the stairs to the second floor. He glanced at the light flickering under the door to room eight. The TV played loud and clear, but not loud enough to muffle the sounds of the two men having sex in the room. Garrett grinned, remembering the days when he and Eron had to sneak off to see each other. That world, and that life, seemed like so long ago now.
Garrett made note that the sign that said, “Staff only on the third floor, was missing all the T’s and needed fixing. He smiled as he went up the next flight of stairs, wondering which guest had such a fetish with t’s they felt the need to steal Eron and his.
They’d made the top floor of the bed and breakfast their living quarters, with all they needed—a much smaller kitchen than downstairs, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. They had no need for third floor guest bedrooms. For the few people who did come see them, they reserved one of their inn rooms, or put them up next door the few times friends tried to surprise them and the inn was full.
They had built a deck that overlooked the Cape. During the chaotic summer tourist season, the third floor provided solace, a place to escape their busy days of cooking, cleaning, and hospitality.
When he stepped out onto the deck, he smiled at Eron’s outline as he lounged in a chaise. He had gotten the quilts out and it looked like he had crawled under one and fallen asleep already.
Eron startled awake when the glasses clinked together as Garrett set the tray down.
“I’m sorry,” Garrett said.
“I shouldn’t be asleep this early.” Eron picked up their signature drink and took a sip. He rested the glass on his stomach and gazed at Garrett. “Thanks for the cocktail. It’s good.”
“I figured we needed it. Next year’s going to be busier.”
“Do you really think so?”
“The council’s going to advertise in the City…There’s some talk about promoting in San Francisco and Los Angeles, too, but some on the council don’t think people will come that far.”
Eron shrugged at the idea. He lowered his voice. “Which room are the guests in?”
“Room eight. We can talk freely. I don’t think it matters anyway. They’re busy right now.” They both chuckled.
Eron took another drink. “I remember those days, wanting to get a couple of good rounds in before we had to go.”
Garrett sipped a drink and reached over for some cheese and a cracker. He chewed and swallowed. “You don’t regret anything, do you?”
Eron reached over and grabbed his hand. Garrett flicked the cracker crumbs off before he took Eron’s.
“Of course not! Had we been born twenty, thirty years later, we probably wouldn’t have been in our situation.”
Garrett tried to return Eron’s smile and confidence. “I’m not so convinced. We’ve given up so much to be with each other.”
“Yes, we have, but we gave up more to do what others expected of us.”
Garrett raised his glass. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
* * * *
Eron set his cocktail down and threw the quilt off his lap. He swung his legs over the lounge chair and faced Garrett. “I don’t regret anything, Gar. We never meant to hurt Mary Ellen or Johnette, but what could we do? Like I said, kids these days don’t have to worry about all the stuff we did. They’ll just move to the big cities and live their lives free from anyone’s scrutiny.”
Being a former lawyer, Eron could smooth talk anyone into believing anything he had to say, except Garrett. Even after all these years, sometimes he had to work twice as hard to convince Garrett than he ever did with any jury.
Eron lifted Garrett’s hand to his mouth and gave it a smooch. “What’s brought this on again?”
Garrett rolled his neck. “Dad got divorce papers in the mail. He left them out on the counter.”
Eron’s confidence in his ability to comfort Garrett melted away. He looked out at the bay and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”
“You know?” Garrett repeated.
“Yeah, he told me, but he didn’t want you to feel guilty again.”
Garrett shrugged. “I suppose so. I guess I don’t understand that after ten years, why she has to do it. Why can’t they just be married on paper and be done with it?”
“Maybe she’s met someone.” Eron took a drink.
“Do you know anything?”
“Well, of course not, who would I talk to?”
“True.”
“I’m just thinking out loud with you. I don’t know why, after ten years, she’s decided to make it formal, but I’m sure she has her reasons. She could have met someone. Maybe Mary Ellen or her husband are worried he’ll show up and expect some or all of her estate if something should happen to her?”
“I’m kind of surprised, not just because it’s been so long, but because of her reputation.”
Eron took another drink. “Don’t worry about that. Elsie Buchanan knows people who will keep this out of the papers. It’ll only be published in some local law journal and no one will say a word.”
Garrett took a drink and set it down. “You always know the right thing to say. You always have.”
“And you like to keep things simple. That’s why I fell in love with you.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t my blond hair and tight ass?”
“That probably had something to do with it.”
Eron finished his cocktail, then went to Garrett’s chair and settled in next to him.
Eron leaned over and gave Garrett a kiss. Even after all these years, he loved leaning in and feeling Garrett’s whiskers tickle his face and chin. The older Garrett got, the stiffer his beard became.
Eron broke the kiss. “Should we go get busy ourselves?”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
Leaving their creature comforts on the deck, they ambled into the bedroom. As Eron stripped out of his clothes, he glanced over at Garrett doing the same and laughed.
“For some reason, that first time we got together at your apartment just flashed through my mind.”
“You were so nervous your hands shook.”
“I wasn’t the only one.” Eron pulled one leg of his jeans off by the cuff. He stumbled and caught himself on the edge of the bed. Though mostly dark in the room, Garrett’s blush shone through.
Eron lay on the bed and tugged on his half-hard cock while he enjoyed Garrett’s striptease. Garrett lay down on the bed and Eron rolled over on top of him.
They kissed as they had on the deck, while he ground his cock into the trough where Garrett’s thigh and leg met. With one last nibble, he slid from Garrett’s mouth, down his chin to his neck. Urgency sped his progress.
* * * *
Garrett loved the feel of Eron on top of him. Eron dry humped his thigh while he gnawed on his ear and neck, but Garrett yearned to have Eron inside him.
They understood each other’s bodies and, yet, each time felt new and wonderful. Eron slid down Garrett’s body, licking and nipping on his way to the object of his attention. After a couple of slurps on his cock, Garrett lifted his legs and Eron took the cue and moved from Garrett’s cock, over his balls, and to his ass.
Eron’s rough and gentle tongue circled Garrett’s pucker, which clenched in response. A groan escaped his lips when Eron turned from licking to nibbling on his ass. Garrett wiggled in delight as Eron’s sharp teeth took in the tiny bites of his flesh.
Eron captured Garrett’s gaze and stuck his index finger in his mouth. He tested Garrett’s opening with his spit-moistened finger. The entrance opened and easily allowed Eron’s finger into the chute.
Eron grinned. “You’re ready, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I need your love tonight.”
Eron lubed up his hard cock, then grabbed Garrett’s and gave it couple of pumps. He dried his hands off with a towel stowed by the bed.
His eyes fixed on Garrett, Eron hooked his arms underneath Garrett’s legs and rocked his ass into the air. Using the tip of his thumb to guide the head of his cock, Eron tenderly nudged at Garrett’s entrance.
Garrett leaned back and seethed at the pleasurable pain of Eron’s shaft. Even after all these years, no matter how much they prepped, entry almost always burned.
Once inside, Eron rested for a few moments until Garrett grew used to him. Garrett clenched his muscle tight around Eron’s cock and when he released, the burn turned to desire for more of Eron. Garrett shifted his hips, his way of letting Eron know he was ready for more.
Eron withdrew his length slowly and started long, slow strokes as Garrett’s passage opened up.
Eron’s hard shaft pulsed, and as Eron withdrew, Garrett prepared himself for Eron’s orgasm. He clenched Eron’s cock as Eron dove in again. The head of Eron’s dick grazed the area of his channel that had burned in pain earlier, inducing a wave of pleasure.
Eron pumped Garrett’s ass harder and faster. He stroked his own wanting cock with renewed urgency. The closer Garrett got to coming, the tighter his ass compressed around Eron’s member. Soon, Eron tossed his head back with a growl. He groaned as his love spilled into Garrett’s willing ass.
Eron’s warm, thick liquid slashed inside him as his own cum erupted onto his stomach.
Eron collapsed on his back next to him. Garrett rolled over and leaned on Eron’s chest while they caught their breath. Eron massaged Garrett’s shoulder. “I love you,” Eron said, giving Garrett a smooch on his moist forehead.
“I love you, too,” Garrett said into Eron’s chest.
“Any regrets?”
“Nope.”
After a few minutes, they got up, rinsed off in the shower, and returned to bed.
* * * *
Garrett lay awake as Eron snored in bed next to him. Garrett rubbed Eron’s back and admired his naked ass. He tried to relax and go back to sleep. A cigarette would be really good right now, he thought, but they gave that habit up about five years ago.
Eron was right. If Allen wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t be there in Provincetown with the two of them helping out. Allen now made his home in the finished basement and he did most of the maintenance around the place.
Garrett gingerly left the bed without disturbing Eron. He opened the drawer on his nightstand and rifled through it looking for the letter he’d written a long time ago. He reached the bottom, but didn’t find it. He switched on the light. The click echoed in his ear. Garrett found the yellowed envelope amongst the minutia of his drawer. He opened the letter and read his words from another time.
June 24, 1968
Dear Dad,
If you’re actually reading this, I fear that maybe something has happened to me. If we don’t see each other again, I wanted to take a few moments to clear some things up about the situation between me and Eron.
I’m sorry this happened to our family. I never meant to hurt you, Elsie, Johnette, or Mary Ellen. I tried to make things work with Johnette, in doing that, I asked too much of myself. If I’m not true to myself, I’m no good for anyone. I’m sorry you and Elsie got caught in the middle of all of that.
Dad, you should know that I am not sorry for finding Eron. I have loved him for the two years I’ve known him. It’s funny, I always thought you’d be a barrier to our happiness. In reality, you made it possible for us to leave together that day. I can only thank you for that.
I know you probably don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to. My only wish is that Elsie makes you as happy as Eron makes me.
Your son,
Garrett
He folded the letter and tucked it back in its fragile envelope. He replaced the letter in the drawer and turned out the lamp again. He scooted back over next to Eron and let out a deep sigh on his back. In his sleep, Eron whimpered but settled as Garrett fell asleep, thinking about how far they’d come. There was a time when Garrett didn’t think Eron, let alone himself, would come around. In the end, their love won out. Eron needed his love and he needed Eron’s.
Gar, I need your love. I promise I’ll never run away from you, from us, again.
Garrett swore he’d hold Eron to his word when he spoke that day. Thankfully, Eron had never again given him a reason to doubt that vow.
In the end, they had to leave the only place either of them had called home to be with each other. In doing so, they both found contentment and fulfillment running the inn. While not what either of their parents had in mind for their lives, it only mattered to him and Eron that they were together and happy.
THE END
* * * *
Thomas Vandre, my husband at the time, always topped the list of acknowledgements. Thanks to his ongoing support, and sometimes taking on extra chores around the house so I could write or edit, Need Your Love is finished today.
My number one beta readers are my mom and dad. Extra thanks to Dad this time, first of all for proofreading gay sex scenes. Dad also helped out with much of the information needed to make the golf scenes authentic. Becky Condit rounds out a list of much appreciated beta readers this go around.
The House of Manlove Critique group has been a huge influence in the development of my writing over the last two years. While I didn’t send this manuscript through the weekly critique system, I tried to apply much of what I have learned from them on other projects. A few of the members beta read the first version of this novel and helped me shape it into the version you read today. In alphabetical order: Genna Donaghy, J.T. Hall, Skye Jones, Jon Keys, Kate Lowell, Chris McHart, Jenna Wade, and Heloise West.
And once again, a huge thanks to everyone at JMS Books LLC for their support of this novel and my writing career.
* * * *
ABOUT DEAN FRECH
With inspiration from historical tourism sites, the love of reading, and a desire to write a novel, Dean started crafting his debut novel, A Place to Call Their Own, in 2008. After four years of writing and polishing the manuscript, it was accepted and originally published in 2013. His second novel, Disappear With Me, set in Edwardian England, was published later that same year.
Dean lives in Kansas City, Missouri, with his two cats. He’s involved in his church and enjoys watching movies, outdoor activities in the warmer weather, and spending time with friends and family. In addition to writing, his hobbies include reading and patio gardening.
Dean is currently working a standalone title, Sartin, a merman romance, and The Higher Law, a continuation of the story of Frank and Gregory’s family, set in the 1930s.
For more information, visit deanpacefrech.blogspot.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!