The Beasts: A Winter's Tale

Need

Conclusion

“Did I stay here the whole night?” Ryan asked. He stretched a little, and as he yawned he said, “That is more sun than’s been out for a month.”

He seemed not to know if he wanted to pull the covers back over his naked torso or not.

“How do you feel about that sun?” Jim asked. “Personally, it’s a little bit much.”

“I was feeling about the sun…” the dark haired man turned around and looked at him, “like I should be going home.”

“If that’s what you want,” Jim Strauss did not come up out of the thick blankets of his large bed in the modern apartment.

“No,” Ryan said, “I mean, I didn’t want to just make myself comfortable.”

Jim smiled and lay on his back and Ryan saw how the sun made his eyebrows and the stubble on his face a soft brown.

“I feel like when you fell asleep five hours ago you already did that.”

Ryan went red and laughed a little.

“Do you mind?”

“You know I don’t. And no one’s asking you to leave now. But if you are going to stay let me know, because if you’re not, I’m trying to figure out which one of us is going to pull the blinds.”

Ryan lay on his stomach and said, “I think I’m going to stay.”

But he pressed himself out of bed and went to close the blinds while Jim said, “I’ll get the curtains.”

They were standing side by, naked, Jim golden and Ryan dark and white, and Ryan closed the blinds.

“I was hoping you would stay,” Jim said as he drew the dark curtains.

Ryan leaned forward and kissed him, and then Jim took his face and kissed him too, biting him a little, turning him around, licking the back of his neck, nipping him so that Ryan moaned.

“We’re not really going to sleep are we?” Ryan asked as Jim wrapped his arms about his waist and pressed himself against Ryan, growling a little..

“Does it feel like we are?”

Ryan reached behind him, running his hand up and down the back of Jim’s neck.

“No, Mr. Strauss. It does not.”

“Oh, my, what is that lovely smell?” Joyce demanded in a bad southern accent as she stretched elegantly in a housecoat too big for her that was clearly Peter Keller’s.

Peter, in a tee shirt and baggy basketball shorts said, “That is Eggo waffles and microwaved sausage.”

“Why fiddle dee dee!”

She looked at Peter and he looked at her, and then she said, “You were …about to kiss me.”

“I was,” Peter said. “And then I wondered if it wasn’t too forward.”

“I feel like the three times you fucked me silly were pretty forward.”

“Oh my God,” Peter turned from her, red faced. “Do you want coffee or not?”

“Is it instant?”

“No,” Peter said, pouring her a mug. “It is actually the good stuff, and there is coffee syrup and coffee creamer and… well, I don’t fuck around when it comes to my coffee.”

Joyce hugged him quickly from behind and said. “You know I think you should kiss me.”

Peter put down the coffee he had poured her, nodded and did so dutifully, but it felt more than dutiful after a moment, and as he parted from her he said, “M’lady, I might take you right back up those stairs.”

“I thought you were going to say take me on the table.”

“The table’s never that much fun in reality, and this one has a tendency to collapse.”

They sat down across from each other, and Joyce crammed half a waffle into her mouth.

“Holy shit!”

“I like to eat,” Joyce told him while chewing, and then she swigged her coffee.

“Goddamn, Peter, you fucking wore me out.”

“But, seriously,” Peter said even though his eyes were dancing.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m one of those weird overly eager guys who never gets laid—even though I am—and who thinks we’re now a couple and I’m going to start pestering you and call you all the time and be really weird.”

“I think I’d be okay with you calling me some of the time, Peter Keller.”

Peter swigged his coffee and nodded, grinning while he looked down on the table.

“Alright,” he said. “That’s good to know.”

And then he said, “Marabeth.”

“What about her?”

“What are you going to tell her?’

“Firstly, she’s got ninety five cousins hopped up on testosterone and dressed like James Bond, so it was a foregone conclusion I’d end up with one of you.”

“Wow! It could have been Myron!” Peter said.

“But,” Joyce continued, ignoring this, “I actually had not planned on telling her anything,” Joyce said. “Not that I keep shit from her, but I had not planned to sleep with you and… I feel like I’d be telling your business if I told her. I feel like maybe I’ll just tell her I met someone. I don’t like keeping secrets. But.. I don’t like telling other people’s.”

“I like you,” Peter said.

“You’re very hot,” Joyce said. “and I had not meant to say that. I meant to say… hell, I probably meant to say something sarcastic, but I like you too, Peter.”

“Oh, damn!” Peter said.

“What?”

“I was laboring under the drunk delusion that we came in my car. You drove me here in your car, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Joyce said, wondering not so much how he had forgotten as why it mattered.

“I was going to drive you home and then drive to the House, pick up the boys and take them to their mom.”

“Well,” Joyce said, still not seeing the issue, “I will just drive you to the Strausses and then… subterfuge and questions be damned.”

Peter shrugged. And then he beamed and laughed a little as he stuffed a sausage into his mouth.

“There won’t be any questions. Strausses and Kellers don’t pry,” Peter told her. “We’re German.”

I’m really glad you invited me over,”Ryan said as he was leaving.

“Really?” Jim said. He still hadn’t put on his shirt, but was wearing the black and white pajama bottoms he’d had on the night before.

“I thought you might think I didn’t respect you, hitting you up so late.”

Ryan shrugged.

.“I didn’t really want to be alone last night, and I didn’t think you did either. That’s how Christmas can be.”

“Yeah,” Jim said. He realized he hadn’t told Ryan everything. He hadn’t been keeping it back, he just hadn’t said anything about Nathan, and now he thought it was a little too late.

“You know, Jim,” Ryan said as he buttoned up his pea coat. “You could never make me feel used. You’re the only guy that doesn’t hurt. You know?”

“Uh… I hope I’d never hurt you.”

“You’re always so kind. You always make me feel safe.”

Jim put his hands to his non existent pockets and then shrugged.

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, you are safe. With me.”

Ryan hugged Jim quickly, and then kissed him.

“You watch out for yourself too, Jimmy,” he said, opening the door, and pulling it close behind him.

Jim nodded even though Ryan was gone, and then moved across his living room to sit on the couch, prop his feet up, take out his cigarettes and finish his coffee. He would go back to the House today, but not just yet. He exhaled and held the cigarette aloft, looking up at the ceiling. Some people said they felt lonely after sex, but Jim always felt like he needed to be left alone, like his solitude was necessary to pick apart everything that had happened in the hours before. He was no stranger to lovemaking, and he realized that most men and probably most people did not want to think about it. He did. He wanted to sit with it, reflect on what had happened, how it felt, how he made his lovers feel, what a different person he was in bed than say, at work, or with his family. Sex was an endless teacher, and remembering the moments with Ryan the night before made Jim warm for him again.

“It’s not true,” he thought, “about having too much sex. The more you have it, the more you want it.”

Like potato chips, a voice in his head suggested.

“No,” Jim stretched, standing on the tips of his feet as he exhaled smoke, “Not like potato chips at all.”