Before I met Marshall, early mornings were my least favorite time of the day. I would always sleep through them if at all possible. Otherwise, I was just stumbling to the coffee maker to try and get that first caffeinated cup into my system.

Marshall is a morning person. He likes to sleep in when possible, but if he has to get up for something, he is wide awake within minutes. He even does pushups before going downstairs for coffee.

I carved out my new favorite time of the morning even earlier than the time for the pushups. I enjoyed it whenever I woke up early enough which turned out to be about half of the time.

Marshall slept on his back a lot. We usually drifted off to sleep spooned up close in each other’s arms, but, by morning, he was lying flat on his back making light little snoring sounds. His thick cock often tented the sheets as well.

He was a heavy sleeper, and didn’t wake up easily. Morning sunlight and the sounds of the street didn’t seem to bother him at all. That’s why I had the perfect opportunity to enjoy the early morning my way.

I very slowly and carefully slid the sheet down until it was at mid-thigh. Of course that allowed Marshall’s cock to poke out and lie partially erect pointing upwards toward his muscular abs.

Seeing it never failed to make my mouth water and my own cock come to full attention. I started by wrapping my long, thin fingers around the base of his cock and then planted light, fluttery kisses near his belly button. The usual response was something like an, “Mmmm” sound and Marshall pulled his arms up to put his hands under the pillow behind his head.

My stroking very slowly picked up speed while my kisses swept downward until they reached Marshall’s balls. I slowly lapped at the rough sac until I heard another deep, pleasurable mix of a growl and a moan.

He was mine. I parted my lips and slipped my mouth over the head of Marshall’s cock. My free hand reached upward to the closest nipple and rubbed until it grew firm beneath my fingers. By then, the slurpy, sucking sounds and combination of pinching and rubbing of the nip was too much for Marshall to keep sleeping.

Then he was awake. “Ohhh Jordan, you drive me nuts.” Marshall reached down and cupped the back of my head with his big hand helping me bob up and down on that amazing cock.

We followed the same pattern over and over sometimes three days a week, and it never got old. Minutes later we were in the shower together, and I was sliding down to my knees to finish what I started in the bedroom. Marshall was a magnificent sight leaning his back against the wall of the shower, the spray hitting his chest and me sucking that cock with my fingers wrapped around the base expertly stroking ever faster to coax that big load out.

Just before cumming, Marshall pushed his arms up over his head, his abs tightened and a low-pitched rumble erupted from deep in his throat. I knew he was close. I stopped for a few seconds feeling the warm water raining over me until I heard the words, “Fuck, please, Jordan!” Then I started the sucking and stroking again at an even more feverish pace.

It never failed. Marshall howled and erupted deep in my throat. He pulled his arms down and slammed the palms of his hands against the shower wall before placing them on my shoulders to steady himself and keep his balance.

That was how I learned to enjoy the early morning.

We toweled each other off, brushed our teeth and then returned to the bedroom. Buck naked, Marshall fell to the floor to do his pushups while I pulled on a bathrobe and tied the belt around my waist.

When he finished, he said, “It wouldn’t hurt you to join me, Jordan. Do this every morning, and you are well on your way to staying in great shape.”

I regularly worked out at the gym, but I couldn’t imagine exercising before the first cup of coffee. I asked, “Do you have an issue with my figure?” as I twisted back and forth in the robe.

Marshall laughed and said, “It’s perfect. I was just making a comment on what has worked for me.”

He stood up and wrapped me in his arms for a good morning kiss before finding his own bathrobe and trailing me on the way down the stairs in search of the desperately needed caffeine.

We sat across the table from each other with steaming mugs and Marshall said, “I need to run to the university for a few minutes this morning and pick some things up from my office that I can work on here at home. If you’re not busy, I thought of something you could do while I’m gone.”

I raised an eyebrow and asked, “You’ve got work for me?”

“Consider it more like volunteer service.”

I chuckled and said, “So is that what we call it? I could use some volunteer service at my place with a sponge and bathroom cleaner.”

Marshall laughed. He said, “I was just thinking. Beyond moving the furniture around in the living room, I think maybe this place could just use a complete overhaul. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything with the house but clean it.”

I sipped at the coffee before asking, “And what do you want me to do with it?”

“You don’t have to do any of this, of course, Jordan. I just thought maybe you could wander around a little and see if any suggestions for changes came to mind. Think about whether painting a room or moving things around or anything like that would seem like an improvement to you.”

“So I get to be a decorating consultant?”

Marshall nodded. “Yeah, something like that. Are you up for the job?”

I smiled and said, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try not to make the shopping list too long.”

Marshall leaned forward and gripped my hands in the center of the table. He said, “The budget isn’t unlimited, but, for you, I might be able to carve out a reasonable chunk of funding.”

I said, “I’ll keep it limited.”

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After Marshall left, I thought about where to start first. Downstairs he had a kitchen, living room, dining room, and a small study. Upstairs was two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The second half-story was originally three bedrooms, but a door was removed between two of the bedrooms making an expansive master suite. I had never set foot in the second bedroom and decided to start there.

The second bedroom was furnished with an old-fashioned four poster bed. An antique chair sat in one corner, and a beautiful antique dresser sat against the wall opposite the bed with a large mirror mounted on the wall above it. The windows along the wall opposite the door looked out over the back yard.

It was a beautiful and simply decorated room reminding me of guest rooms in bed and breakfast inns. I guessed that it was furnished with the intention of being a guest room, but I wasn’t sure, in the absence of immediate family visiting, if it was used very often.

In the far corner of the room, a door was placed between the bed and the windows. I don’t usually go around snooping into closets and cabinets in the homes of other people, but my curiosity got the best of me. I walked to the opposite side of the room and stared out over the back yard for a few moments before opening the door and peering into a large walk-in closet.

Boxes were pushed to the back of the closet, and clothes hung from a rack in the front. The rack was nearly full with shirts, pants, jackets and sweaters. My first thought was Marshall keeping seasonal clothing separated from his everyday options in his bedroom. Then I pulled out a shirt at random.

It was too small to fit Marshall. I knew that he wouldn’t be able to button the shirt over his broad chest. The design looked dated as well. Pulling at the tag, I realized that it would likely fit me. In fact, the closet was filled with clothes that would fit me.

I put everything back on the rack and then shined the flashlight from my cell phone on the cardboard boxes in the rear. Scrawled across the side of the one resting on top was the word that answered many of the questions emerging in my mind. It said, “NEIL.”

While telling myself over and over that I shouldn’t be doing it, I pulled the box out of the closet and set it on the bed. It was dusty, and the bottom of the box was growing flimsy. Curiosity broke down my resistance, and I pulled open the top flaps. What greeted me was the first photo I’d seen of Neil. It was mounted in a simple chrome frame.

He was a handsome young man. He looked full of life, and it was difficult to believe that he was gone. What was most striking about the photo was that he looked so much like me. It wasn’t a family resemblance similarity. It was the basic structure of the facial features, and the way that he smiled. A man who believed Neil was handsome would likely believe that I was handsome, too. As that thought filtered through my head, a lump formed in my throat.

The phone in my pocket rang making me jump. I tugged it out of my pocket. It was Marshall calling. I struggled mightily to say, “Hi,” without allowing my voice to shake and stutter.

Marshall said, “I ran into one of my colleagues over here at the offices. He wants to run the details of his current research project past me. It might be another hour before I’m back, so I wanted to make sure you didn’t worry.”

I struggled to respond and finally said, “Th…thank you. I’ll see you th…then.”

Marshall asked, “Are you okay, Jordan. You sound a little odd.”

I swallowed hard and spoke more forcefully. “I’m fine. I’ve just been roaming the house, and I guess I’m a little preoccupied.”

“Well, relax then. Watch some TV. You don’t need to make the house into a big project. I was just curious if there were any little suggestions that came to your mind.”

I said, “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Okay then,” said Marshall. “A big hug and a kiss for you, Jordan. See you soon.”

He was gone, and I stared again at the photo of Neil. I dug a little deeper to see three or four more framed photos. They were mostly the same. He smiled like me. His basic body shape was mine, and in one photo his hand rested against the side of his face showing that he had my long, thin fingers.

I didn’t want to look at any more. I quickly closed the box back up and stuck it into the far recesses of the closet. I closed the closet door and then leaned my back against it trying to catch my breath.

Walking up to the mirror on the far side of the room, I leaned in to take a closer look at myself. I looked like Neil, or, Neil looked like me. I couldn’t decide which way to see it, and I didn’t think it really mattered.

Marshall didn’t seriously date anyone for more than twenty years after Neil was gone, and when he finally did, he was dating someone who looked enough alike that he could pretend it was Neil. The thought sent a wicked chill up my spine.

I had an immediate instinct to flee the house and never see Marshall again. Another instinct said, “No.” Marshall was my man, and I needed to fight to keep him. It was quickly followed by a worry that Marshall wasn’t actually mine, and he would never be mine. He belonged to Neil twenty years ago, and he belonged to him now. I was worried that no one would ever be able to break that bond.