Lars couldn’t get the last thing Tanner said out of his mind that night. The pub opened at noon time and per state law, it had to close at one in the morning. The night dragged on and he almost loathed the one student sitting in the corner doing his homework, but he would be remiss if he kicked him out. The pub had a reputation for hospitality, and he had also had the opportunity to go to school and get his business degree and come home on the weekends and learn from his Dad. It wouldn’t sit well with him to shun that opportunity for other college kids.

By the time he closed up, it was a mile walk to his home on Water street and he had to be careful of black ice as he made his way up the street. Boothbay started up high and sloped downwards into the bay. It was a gradual descent down to Main Street where all the shops and restaurants were located. The residents lived on top of the hill for the most part and spread out toward the state highway. Lars owned a car, but he had always found it cumbersome to find places to park in the summer months, and in the off season, he didn’t want to risk the snow and ice getting down the hill, so it was just easier to walk. It was bitter cold with the wind. It whipped at him so hard it made his eyes sting and his lungs hurt as he breathed. He should have guessed at the plunge in the temperature that was always inevitable, right before the warm up and the mountain of snow that would be dumped on the town. By the time he got home, he immediately turned up the furnace and opened up the damper on the fire and got the living room cozy and warm.

He sat down on his worn brown leather couch and pulled the blanket across his lap and chest. It was a plaid green, brown and red afghan that Shirley had knitted him, and it was so worn and threadbare, it barely did anything against the chill, but the fondness for it, and the memory of receiving it was what warmed him. The walk had been a harsh clarification of the evenings events and had snapped his mind into focus. He wasn’t sure if the focus of his attention was a good or a bad thing. He always knew Tanner had been there, in his mind, hazy but still present, and after the walk he had entered his home with determination that they had started out as friends, and he was going to make sure they succeeded in at least finding that again; and then he was going to seduce his best friend again. He remembered the first time it had happened.

He and Tanner had spent the weekend in the cabin, fishing the creek most of the day and swimming in the late afternoon in the pool that gathered within a mossy rock formation about a half a mile from the cabin. They would return to the cabin when the sun no longer filtered through the trees, shivering and laughing, carrying their catch of the day. They would spend the evening frying up the fish on the little Coleman camp cookstove. The cabin itself was primitive. It was an escape from all modern luxuries. They played cards by flashlight and Coleman Lanterns and read R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps together to scare the crap out of one another and then would share the double bed to sleep, but only under the ruse that the couch was currently home to a new family of mice.

They used the outhouse that was set a way off in the woods, waking each other up in the night if they had to go. It was like a game until they had hit High School. Then they woke each other up to make the trek by banging around as they crammed their feet into their sneakers and said,

“Oops. Sorry I woke you. Hey man, gotta hit the outhouse, you?” And they would go together whilst still keeping their dignity intact and not officially claiming the title of “chicken” or “scaredy cat.”

It had been one of these nights when the air was cool and instead of reading Goosebumps books, they had moved on to a new discovery. They were eighteen now, adults and they had gone to Portland on a joy ride in Lars’ Dad’s ’69 Chevy Camaro and thought they were kings among men. It was an hour drive and his Dad was busy in the pub and had given Lars a rare night off. They had tried to sneak the Camaro out of the garage, but Thomaston had ratted them out later. It had been worth it though. They had discovered the adult shop down in the seedier part of town and gone in, rubbing their chins and puffing up their chests. At first they had stuck together, checking out the magazine racks and the overpriced DVD’s. After a while they had split up in search of their personal tastes, and later that night discovered under the ruse of the magazine, Blond Bombs, their true desires were purchased. There were a few magazines and a DVD and they sat at the kitchenette table, each viewing the men in the magazine and the various acts. They had grown hard sitting at the kitchen table, and they were blushing profusely, until Lars leaned across the table and grabbed the back of Tanner’s head, kissing him firmly on the lips.

It was Tanner who taught him to slow down and enjoy the kiss. He had been exploring being gay for a long time, but he had never said anything. He had confessed that he often fantasized about Lars when he was alone and at home, but he wasn’t sure how Lars felt.

That night, as they climbed into bed in their boxers, it was evident how aroused they were and it wasn’t long before Lars was lying under Tanner, gasping in pleasure as his friend reached down into his boxers, grabbing his dick and stroking him to a frenzy. He shoved his boxers down his hips and Tanner ducked his head, sucking his cock into his mouth. It was the first time he’d been given head, and he tried to hold out, but the pressure and the wet silk of Tanner’s tongue was too much. He had sat up, pulling on Tanner’s head, but his mouth was relentless, sucking at him until he exploded in his friend’s mouth.

Tanner had flipped him over and pressed his own cock into him. He didn’t know he had picked up lube at the store while they were there, and he was grateful that he had. At first it hurt, but Tanner went slow, pausing as he’d gasp and try to relax his muscles to accommodate him. Tanner was well equipped, and he would find out later how he enjoyed making a game out of seeing how much he could suck into his mouth. It took about half an hour for Tanner to work himself into his ass, and then they lay there panting and sweating at the exertion, before Tanner began to move again. When he did, Lars had been afraid his insides would fall out as he slowly pulled out and thrust back in. It took another five minutes for this feeling to subside, and for him to begin to squirm under him because the feeling and pressure was so foreign, and he wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or not. His body seemed to think so, because his dick hardened almost instantly when Tanner reached around and began stroking him again.

Tanner’s fingers slickened, and he felt him rub at the rim of his cock as he himself braced himself on his elbows as the angle of Tanner’s thrusts changed when he hoisted him onto his knees. Tanner began bumping into the spot deep in him that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him. The reaction made the top of him drool into Tanner’s hands and the wetness made the friction rubbing down his dick into pure bliss.

The more Tanner pumped, the faster he went, driving them both towards explosion. He felt the tightness of Tanner’s balls as he came close to his own orgasm because they were slapping against his ass and the thought sent chills of pleasure coursing along his body under his skin. He shouted when he came the second time, and then he felt the warm pump of fluid inside him as Tanner followed after, and he lay down flat against the bed as his friend panted on top of him, kissing and nipping the back of his neck.

He lay down on the bed on his stomach for a long while, processing what had just happened, and he also had the overwhelming urge to get up and run for the outhouse, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself, so he waited until the feeling passed. Tanner lay down beside him, stroking his back and arm and after that, they spent the nights exploring each other by touch, tongues and taking turns thrusting into one another. Lars found he liked being on top. He enjoyed teasing Tanner until he was begging him to come and he was the one in control, saying when he could and edging him to the point of frenzy. Tanner didn’t seem to mind either, his favorite position being able to lie on his back and lift his legs, so they could take turns reaching between their bodies and stroking him while Lars pumped inside him.

Lars opened his eyes and groaned. That trip down memory lane hadn’t been one he had been planning on entertaining. It had certainly warmed him up and his jeans were definitely feeling the brunt of it as his dick was pressed hard inside them. The wool sweater he was wearing was too much and his skin was flushed with arousal. He reached behind him and whipped the sweater up and over his head and popped the button on his jeans, letting his erection spring free. When he closed his eyes this time, the image was the same as when Tanner had given him his first blow job, but this time the man kneeling between his legs was a decade older, with scruff on his chin from a five o’clock shadow and the eyes of the Tanner who had been out to see the world staring back up at him; and it was as if they were telling him to hold on because he was going to suck dick like it was the last thing he was going to do on this planet and Lars could die a happy man.

It didn’t take long before Lars was reaching for the box of tissues, but as soon as he came he realized the ache that was deep in his balls wasn’t nearly satisfied enough. He wanted Tanner in the worst way now that he had found his way back to him, and he knew it would be a long time coming before he would have him back again, in bed, where he wanted him. Lars made a plan as he made his way towards his shower. He nailed out the details as he showered off and then collapsed in bed. He would start in the morning, with the brownies that Shirley had baked. He wondered if Tanner thought he might not show up, but he was in for a surprise if he did.

The next morning, Lars dressed in jeans and his favorite faded Patriots t-shirt and Red Sox ballcap and stopped to obtain a burn permit for the firepit out at the cabin. Then he made his way down the highway towards the cabin but turned off into Shirley’s driveway before that turn off. He was driving the Camaro, he had kept it up for all those years. His Dad had kicked his ass, literally, for taking it, and then after he rubbed the sore spot on his left ass cheek where the boot had made contact, they spent a good half hour going over the specs and how fast he got her up to on the highway. It was one of the best memories of him and his Dad. Anything that was manly and had to be discussed, in detail and at length was usually considered a her. Boats, cars, four wheelers, snow mobiles, pretty much anything within the Maine lingo that referred to masculinity and toughing it out in anyway, was described with a female pronoun. Even snowstorms. His Dad’s favorite saying and one that was popular around town with the locals was, “she’s a doozie!” Even the lobsterman who caught a lobster over the standard 1-2 pounds would describe the lobster as, “she’s a biggun’!” even if the lobster was male.

Lars put the Camaro in park in the driveway and stared up through the dooryard which was manicured to perfection for the coming springs planting. Shirley had always kept a pristine garden, and even at eighty, that hadn’t changed. She would hire local kids to come in and help her, and on occasion when Lars stopped by, he would give her a hand, helping out with whatever needed to be done. Shirley had been good to him. She always insisted he call her Gram, just as Tanner did. Lars own mother had run off when he was five. Not with the milk man as the town had suggested, everyone gave poor Fred a shady look after that, but he had remained stalwart as ever, delivering the milk for Oakhurst the local dairy company. She had run off to Vegas in search of making it as a show girl, and no one had seen her since and his Dad never made any effort to go find her, deciding the note she had left was enough. His Dad was a good man. A little gruff sometimes, but his Mom had never been content to remain in Maine, and so Shirley had taken the mantle of mother figure.

Lars got out of the Camaro and walked up the crushed stone pathway to the front of the cape-style house. Her back porch overlooked the bay through the trees, but the house itself sat white with blue shutters and cocooned within the grove of trees. He rang the brass doorbell and waited as he heard the small poofy Pomeranian, Sparkle bark at the door. He heard Shirley swear at the dog as she moved to answer the door, and he felt the little beast sniffing and nipping at his pant leg as she ushered him inside.

“Sparkle! Shut it!” Shirley bellowed at the dog who was still growling but wiggling it’s large poofy butt. The dog was as cantankerous as the woman when she hadn’t taken her arthritis medicine, but soon calmed down when he let his hand drop to his side so she could sniff it.

Shirley was still dressed in a stained housecoat and a sweatshirt that had a picture of Betty White on the front with the caption, “Still here bitches!” Lars smiled at Shirley. Her sense of amusement was the driving factor that kept her alive, he was sure of it.

“Good morning Mrs. Mason.”

“It’s Gram. You know that. Good morning Lars. Come on, I made coffee and cookies!” She got so excited as she shuffled into the kitchen, Lars didn’t have the heart to tell her it was nine am and cookies weren’t really breakfast foods, but he followed her anyway. He figured the brownies would only add to the sugar high later and keep him going until at least next Tuesday, because he hadn’t slept well the night before. It was only Wednesday though so he accepted when she offered him sugar for his cup of coffee.

“Don’t mind the mess, I was up with Sparkle-baby here at five this morning. Then I fell asleep in the chair listening to the news. Honestly, if politicians don’t all kill each other soon, the world is going to hell in a hand basket!”

“Agreed, Gram. And your kitchen is spotless as usual.”

“Bless my stars so it is. I must have cleaned up after I made cake yesterday for Tanner’s coming home dinner. You should have come by!” She said.

“I had to work the pub, we had some students studying late last night, but thank you. Where is Tanner, by the way? You made cookies, cake and brownies?” He asked incredulously.

“Of course. My boys skin and bones. You saw him. Time to fatten him up again. I was worried the last time I went down to Miami. Nasty place except the sunshine maybe. But he was thin as a rail then too. I begged him to come home, it’s a good thing he did too. He had to go down to the station this morning and fill out paperwork. They’re going to have him start patrolling after the storm. He’ll be on call during the storm in case any idiot decides to brave the harbor and gets stuck or lost, but hopefully the tourists haven’t flocked in too much to be that stupid.”

“Hopefully you’re right. Well, I won’t bother you if you were taking a nap, Gram…”

“Watch my face sonny, you’re always welcome here. We clear?” She looked at him sternly and he was reminded of a withered old pumpkin. Her face sagged a little and her jowls were loose under her chin, but her eyes were as sharp and clear as ever. He had worried about glaucoma when Tanner had left. This was a big house for one person to keep up all on their own, but her eyesight had blessedly remained intact.

“Thanks Gram. But I think it’s best until Tanner wants me around again to just…”

“Psht..nonsense. This is still my house and my rules and until I go, and I’m not ready yet, I have things to do, I’ll invite over anyone I damn well please! Cookie?” She held out the tin and Lars was too afraid to deny so he took two.

They sat for the next hour talking about the coming tourist season and she vaguely hinted at why Tanner had decided to return, but Lars didn’t pry. After his second round of coffee, he stood and told her he’d be happy to get Sparkle out of her hair for a while and take a walk down the old trail toward the cabin at the back of the house. She thought that was a grand idea, but the dog had other ideas. She went out, marked her territory on a bush then bolted back inside and hid under the couch. Shirley swore like a drunken sailor at the dog for a moment before turning back to him, smiling,

“She’s a stubborn old broad, just like her mama. You have a nice walk though and when Tanner gets back, I’ll send him your way.”

Lars thought about arguing but decided against it. He nodded and thanked her and went to the car, grabbing a backpack stuffed full and his waders, tugging the rubber boots on his feet and tossing the regular winter boots into the car.

He made his way around the house and the snow was beginning to melt in most places and was only a few inches thick on the back lawn. Down on the coast, the salt from the air kept the levels at a manageable level most of the time, and it was the freezing rain that got the best of the coastal towns, but it was a little more banked in the woods as he made his way down the trail. The waders came in handy because in some of the lower spots, it was muddy where the ground had begun to thaw. The path was overgrown after a decade of non-use. Lars had just used the highway access the last ten years and didn’t maintain the trail, but Lars knew it by heart because all he had to do was follow the coast line through the beech, birch and pine trees for a mile and a half and then turn right at the large oak that had grown with branches that looked like it hugged itself. After that, the cabin was half a mile into the woods up the hill. That was the back entrance to the cabin. As they had gotten older it was cooler to take the four-wheelers or snow mobiles up the highway where people could see them riding in style, and then cut down the driveway to get into the cabin.

Lars pushed through the hanging overgrowth of a pine tree and got a branch of chilly snow dumped on his head, which he shook off and shivered. The cabin was exactly as he remembered it, with checkered worn curtains that would need to be replaced. They hung limply in the windows, mostly threadbare and hauled off for nesting critters. He made his way around the cabin and saw that the front door had been kicked in. He figured this might have happened, so he set his backpack down just inside the door and began clearing the snow away with his boot.

The floorboards creaked under his weight and he figured they would have to be replaced because of water and mildew damage, but he had never minded the earthy scents of the cabin, he just didn’t fancy his foot going through one of the boards and ending up with a shin full of splinters.

The interior was just the same as the last time he had left it. A rusty old bedframe sat in the middle of one wall on the far side. The tan stuffing from the mattress was falling out and a tell-tale sign of it trailed to the old wooden framed couch which was in equally bad shape. He could hear the scurrying as he began to haul the old couch out into the yard and then the musty old mattress after. He got stuck in the door frame, trying to get the couch out, but tipped it on its side and was able to shove it out, before the floor gave out. The mice had gone scrambling for under the cabin, but he didn’t mind. He felt bad, but it was time he spruced the place up a bit. He wanted to do it for Tanner, as a welcome home present.

After he piled up the old furniture, he retrieved some matches and newspaper from his backpack and lit it on fire. The ground was snowy enough that with a Maine permit, he didn’t need a pit, but he had put them in the general vicinity of where the old pit used to be. He had stopped by town office that morning to obtain the burn permit, and since none of the furniture contained adverse materials, he had purchased the permit easily. He had really gone in hopes of seeing Tanner, but he hadn’t been around. The police station and town hall were the same building, but different wings, so it had been a long shot.

After the fire got going and the cushions had burned down to embers, it hadn’t taken long because the stuffing had been so old and dried out. He returned to the cabin and began cleaning it out, and looked up, just as he was putting the rusty old bedframe back together after oiling it, to find Tanner standing in the doorway.