“I love you, Keith,” said Tucker.
“Stay,” Keith whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and emotion. “Just… stay with me.”
Tucker shuffled closer, tucking his head into the crook of Keith’s arm, their bodies fitting together perfectly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his eyes already drifting closed. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. “I was hoping you’d ask me again. That’s why I brought a change of clothes.”
“Perfect,” said Keith. They fell asleep as the storm outside rekindled and brought more rain. Neither of them stirred.
The Saturday morning air was crisp and clean, smelling of pine and damp earth as Keith pulled his sensible sedan into the gravel lot of Blackwood State Park. Tucker was already there, leaning against the tailgate of his own car, a vision of rugged outdoorsy charm in a worn pair of hiking shorts, a soft grey t-shirt that clung to his chest, and a backwards baseball cap that pushed his blond bangs off his forehead. He was unloading a worn leather backpack, and when he looked up and saw Keith, his face broke into a wide, genuine smile that made Keith’s stomach do a slow, happy flip.
“There he is,” Tucker called out, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet of the lot. “I was worried that you’d bailed on me for a date with your spreadsheets.” He laughed knowing in his heart that Keith was already his.
“Not a chance,” Keith laughed, grabbing his own backpack from the passenger seat. “A day away from numbers is exactly what I need. Besides, I was promised a swim.”
As they shouldered their packs and started down the main trailhead, the easy rhythm of their conversation fell into place. The path wound through a dense forest of towering pines and oaks, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in dappled, shifting patterns. For the first hour, their talk was light, focused on the physical exertion of the hike. They pointed out different types of birds, debated the merits of various trail snacks, and good-naturedly complained about the steepness of the incline.
But as the trail leveled out and the rhythm of their footsteps became a steady, meditative cadence, the conversation deepened. They were miles from anyone, surrounded by nothing but the whisper of the wind through the trees and the occasional chatter of a squirrel. It felt like they were in their own private world.
“You know,” Tucker began, his voice thoughtful as he navigated a gnarled tree root, “when I was in optometry school, I thought this was it. This was the peak. Get the degree, get the good job, and that’s the recipe for a happy life.”
“Isn’t it?” Keith asked, adjusting the strap of his pack. “I mean, that’s the script, right? College, career, maybe a mortgage in a few years.”
“Exactly,” Tucker said, glancing over at him. “But I’m not so sure anymore. I love being a doctor, I really do. But I feel like there’s this whole other part of me that I’ve put on hold. The part that wants to learn guitar, the part that wants to take a month off and just… drive. See where I end up.”
Keith felt a powerful jolt of recognition. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his voice filled with a sudden, fervent energy. “I sit at my desk all day, making sure the debits equal the credits, and I’m good at it. It’s safe. But sometimes I look out the window and I just feel… restless. I want to see things. I want to stand in a square in a city where I don’t speak the language and just feel… small, you know? Part of something bigger than a P&L statement.”
Tucker stopped walking and turned to face him, his expression one of pure, unadulterated understanding. “Yes. That’s it exactly. It’s not about hating what we do. It’s about wanting more from life than just a job title.”
They stood there for a moment, the forest silent around them, a shared, profound revelation passing between them. It was one thing to discover a mutual love for old sci-fi movies; it was another thing entirely to find that your soulmate was even more in synch with you than you realized at first.
They continued their hike, their conversation now flowing with a new, deeper purpose. They talked about their dreams not as distant fantasies, but as tangible goals. Keith confessed he’d been secretly putting a hundred dollars a month into a “someday” travel fund, and Tucker admitted he’d bought a beginner’s guitar that was currently collecting dust in his closet. They discovered a shared desire to build a life that wasn’t just about accumulating things, but about accumulating experiences.
After another mile, they heard it: the low, steady rush of water. The trail opened up into a small, secluded cove. A waterfall, maybe twenty feet high, cascaded down a moss-covered rock face into a clear, deep pool of water. Sunlight glittered on the surface, and the air was cool and misty.
“Wow,” Keith breathed, setting his pack down on a flat, sunny rock.
“Told you,” Tucker grinned, already pulling his t-shirt over his head.
They stripped down to their briefs and waded into the water. The initial shock of the cold was breathtaking, but it quickly gave way to an exhilarating, invigorating chill. They swam out to the center of the pool, their laughter echoing off the surrounding cliffs. Tucker splashed him, and Keith retaliated, their playfighting dissolving into entwined limbs and laughter as they treaded water.
They floated on their backs for a while, side by side, staring up at the patch of blue sky visible through the canopy of leaves. The physical exertion of the day, combined with the cold water and the emotional honesty of their conversation, had left them feeling wonderfully alive and open.
“Hey,” Tucker said, turning his head to look at Keith. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, and his face was open, vulnerable. “I’m really glad I asked you out.”
Keith reached out and took his hand under the water, their fingers lacing together. “I’m really glad you’re a pervert doctor who lets his patients touch his thigh,” he replied, a wide, happy grin spreading across his face. “And for the record, I asked you out.”
Tucker laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the small cove. He squeezed Keith’s hand. “If it makes you feel better to remember it that way,” he said, his eyes full of a warmth that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with something much, much more. They floated there for a long time, hand in hand, two men who had gone out looking for a hike and had unexpectedly found a shared vision for the future.
As they stood on the rock overlooking the water, allowing their skin to dry before getting dressed, Keith sat. “I’ve got something serious to share with you.”
“Is it the news I’ve been waiting for?” asked Tucker.
“It could be,” Keith smirked. “I ran some figures. If I move in with you, …”
“Which we have already decided that you will, and since I already practically stay at your place every night, it will be a lot easier for me.”
“I agree, even though my place is nicer, yours is much more practical on the financial side since you already own it.”
“Hey,” said Tucker, “don’t disparage my grandparents’ old house. It just needs a little bit of fixing up.”
“I’m sorry. I really do love that house. Well, except for that pink tile shower. But hey, as long as you’re in there with me, I barely notice the color. Barely.”
Tucker shook a fist at Keith and then laughed.
“So, when I move in with you, we can put my salary into savings. Since we’ll be splitting the work around the house, such as laundry, yard, basic maintenance, you’ll have time for guitar lessons with a good teacher. At year seven, if the economy holds up, we’ll be able to purchase either a pickup and travel trailer or a small motorhome for traveling. I’ve examined your business plan, and it looks as if you’ll be able to take on someone in the practice. If we limit travel time to a maximum of two weeks, we’ll be able to travel three times a year until year eleven.”
“Six weeks out of the office?” asked Tucker.
“That’s what the numbers say.”
“Sweet potato pie.” Tucker spread his towel on the rock, pushed down his briefs, and lay on his back. “Come over here and make love to me.”
Keith looked down to see Tucker lubing his hole with spit. He felt his dick immediately harden. “Fuck, Tuck, I can’t say no to you.” Keith pushed his own underwear down allowing his cock freedom to expand even more.
“Don’t say no; just push yourself into me.”
Keith knelt between Tucker’s legs and pushed himself inside. No matter how many times they made love, Keith felt as if the latest time was the best. He felt the tightness of Tucker holding and grabbing him.
Each time Keith penetrated Tucker, Tucker felt their souls connect in a way he could not describe but knew he wanted and needed. With each thrust, he felt himself get closer and closer to a release even though nothing touched his erection. “I’m so close, Keith. I’m so close.”
Keith pulled slightly back, enough to plunge Tucker’s cock into his mouth. The sudden spray of semen filled his mouth. He swallowed most of it and then used his lips to pull more from the hard shaft. While still bent forward he began to thrust with increased frequency until he released his load deep within Tucker.
“Yes.” Tucker’s teeth were clenched, and he hissed the last part of that word.
Keith collapsed next to him. Tucker turned his head, and the two men faced one another. Their eyes said everything. “I’m going to need to head out soon.”
“I know,” said Keith. “I wish I could go with you.”
“Me, too, but I think you’d be bored waiting in the hotel room while I sat through the conference.”
“Maybe, but I’ve got to pack stuff and move it to our house.”
“I like the sound of that. Our house. I think my grandparents would be happy to know that love will fill their old home again. They were such happy people.”
“Kiss me before we have to get dressed and go.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
2 years later
The late afternoon sun of a perfect June Saturday spilled through the large bay window, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room. Two years had passed, and the space was a testament to their life together. It was no longer just Tucker’s grandparents’ old house but their home. Keith’s worn, comfortable couch sat opposite a leather armchair that was pure Tucker. On the wall, a framed, black-and-white print of Half Dome, a gift from Keith’s brother, hung next to a poster of ‘Forbidden Planet.’
A slightly dusty guitar stand stood in the corner, next to a bookshelf overflowing with everything from accounting textbooks to classic novels.
Keith was in the kitchen, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully arranged a medley of olives and artisanal cheeses on a wooden board. He was wearing a soft henley and jeans, his feet bare, a picture of domestic contentment. The faint, melodic sound of an acoustic guitar, still a little clumsy but full of heart, drifted in from the living room.
“You know,” Keith called out, not looking up from his task, “for a man who’s been practicing for two years, that G-chord still sounds a little like a dying cat.”
The playing stopped, and Tucker appeared in the doorway, a mock-offended pout on his face. He was wearing a simple linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and his blond hair was longer now, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. “Excuse me, Mr. Hamilton. Some of us are still in our sensitive, artistic development phase. Not all of us can find deep, spiritual fulfillment in a perfectly balanced ledger.”
Keith laughed, setting down the cheese knife. He walked over to Tucker, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. “It’s our anniversary, Tuck. I’m supposed to be nice to you. Sorry about that comment. It’s just the honesty in me, you know, from my French side.”
“You are always nice to me,” Tucker murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Keith’s lips. It was a familiar, comfortable gesture, filled with the easy intimacy of a thousand shared mornings and nights. “That’s one of the reasons I married you.”
“One of?” Keith teased, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, the other reasons involve your exceptional prowess in the bedroom and your willingness to let me win arguments about which Star Trek movie is the best,” Tucker conceded with a grin. “Happy anniversary, by the way.” He thought back to the man he was two years ago, nervous, insecure, but pulling every bit of courage he had to ask his optometrist on a date.
The past two years had been a whirlwind of planning and determination. They were on their way to building savings that would allow them to travel the way they had dreamed.
Tucker, in turn, had found his own kind of freedom. He was now the owner of the vision practice, and he’d brought on an associate ahead of schedule
“Remember our first date?” Tucker asked, his head resting on Keith’s shoulder. “At Donovan’s? I was so nervous I thought I was going to spill wine all over myself.”
“I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out,” Keith admitted with a chuckle. “I spent two hours cleaning my apartment beforehand. I was terrified you’d judge me for my second-hand couch.”
“Best couch I’ve ever been fucked on,” Tucker whispered, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive hum.
Keith felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest. “Later,” he promised gently. “Right now, I believe there was a bottle of champagne we were supposed to open.”
They moved to the couch, the cheese board and two flutes of champagne on the coffee table before them. The city lights began to twinkle outside the window as the sky deepened to a soft indigo. They talked, their conversation a comfortable weave of shared memories and future plans. They reminisced about their first attempt at camping, a night spent in a leaky tent during a thunderstorm. They talked about Keith’s latest client, a quirky potter, and Tucker’s goal to finally master that G-chord.
“You know,” Keith said, swirling the bubbly liquid in his glass, “I was thinking today about that hike at Blackwood. About what we said we wanted.”
Tucker looked at him, his blue eyes soft and attentive in the dim light. “Yeah?”
“I think we did it,” Keith said, his voice thick with emotion. “Not all at once, not perfectly. But we’re doing it. We’re building a life of experiences, not just… stuff. We’re seeing things. We’re learning new things. We’re happy, Tuck. We’re really, truly happy.”
Tucker set his glass down and took Keith’s free hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing Keith’s knuckles. “We are,” he agreed, his voice a low, earnest murmur. “You know, for years, I thought I was waiting for someone special. I didn’t just mean someone I was attracted to. I was waiting for you. I just didn’t know it yet.”
A lump formed in Keith’s throat. He leaned in and captured Tucker’s lips in a deep, tender kiss. It wasn’t the frantic, desperate kiss of their first night, nor the playful, teasing kiss of their third date. It was the kiss of two men who knew each other, inside and out. A kiss that spoke of shared history, of mutual respect, of a love that had been forged in honesty and had grown stronger with every passing day.
When they pulled apart, Tucker rested his forehead against Keith’s. “So,” he whispered, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “About that G-chord…”
Keith laughed, a sound of pure, unadulterated happiness. “Later,” he said again, his smile wide and full of promise. “First, we need to see whether this old couch still has it in him.”
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