Brick entered through the heavy stained-glass doors of The Moose Lodge and headed straight for the counter. The air conditioning of the interior was a welcome relief from the humid heat of the hot summer day. 

Brick ordered a beer, and once he was holding the chilled bottle in one hand, he moved over to one of the back tables near the windows and sat down to scan the room. The late afternoon sunlight streaked through the windows, gently illuminating the dimly lit interior.

The Moose Lounge had a rugged, almost harsh feel to it. It had scarred hardwood floors and high ceilings. Worn rugs were thrown on the floor in a random fashion that lent to the faux rustic ambiance. Wild life paraphernalia – including an assortment of stuffed animal heads – hung on the walls, complimenting the awkward, mismatched furniture.

The style of the room was ultra-masculine, but comfortable with large leather seats and a color scheme that consisted of several shades of black and brown. Yet, despite the décor, the clientele was rather diverse with a combination of young and old, men and women.

Brick quietly observed the other patrons. There were a few older guys, a few women who looked to be in their early twenties and a smattering of people in between. One of the women was sending him suggestive looks from the corner of her eye, but Brick studiously ignored her.

None of the people there were who he was looking for.

His gaze skimmed to a twenty-something male sitting alone on the other side of the room, and he briefly considered talking to him before discarding the idea. The guy was well-dressed, wearing faded blue jeans and a dark gray hoodie. He sat with his shoulders hunched, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was reading.

From his vantage point, Brick could only see his profile, but he could tell that the guy was really good looking. Something about the guy was strangely familiar, but Brick wasn’t sure what. He gave the guy a slow perusal, at the end of which he decided he was probably straight.  

He went back to sipping his drink and watching people come and go, but every once in a while his gaze would stray back to the guy reading his book so intently.

Some people might think it was weird that he was drinking alone on a Friday evening, but this was a ritual that Brick had indulged in for years. After an entire week of working long hours on a construction site, he was more than ready to unwind on the weekends.

Owning his own contracting company was hard work, but Brick wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked being in charge, being his own boss, deciding his own hours and pay. Even though he was in charge, he often worked along side his crew on the site. Not only did this allow him to keep an eye on his crew, but the hard physical labor kept him in excellent shape.

Unfortunately, the downside of being the boss was it left him very little time for a personal life. He was a workaholic little or no love life to speak of. He didn’t really do the bar scene and he had strict rules about relationships on the job. That pretty much cancelled out all of his options so he stayed single.

If he absolutely had to get laid, he’d go out and find someone to take care of his needs. He’d never had any trouble in that department. Men seemed to gravitate towards his bulging, muscular frame with very little effort from him. Still, he wasn’t fond of casual sex and tried as much as possible to avoid engaging in it.

Unconsciously, he felt his eyes slide over to the guy reading. He couldn’t help but feel that he knew him from somewhere, but the angle from which he was looking, combined with inadequate lighting was preventing him from getting a good look at the guy’s face.

It was early still, and the Moose Lounge wasn’t very packed. Brick thought about going over and talking to the guy. He’d isolated herself by sitting at a small corner table, head bent over his book, reading intently. Beside him, there was what appeared to have been an iced coffee drink of some sort, but the ice had long since melted, obvious forgotten as the guy became absorbed in what he was reading.

Brick was a pretty introverted guy and, uncertain what he would say should he approach the guy, he let his gaze slide away again. He wasn’t used to making the first move, because he very rarely had to, but it wasn’t likely the guy reading was going to go over to him any time soon. He thought about the last time he’d had sex and that propelled him into action.

Taking a fortifying gulp of his beer, he pushed back his seat and stood up. He kept his eyes on the bent head as he made his way towards the guy. As he approached his body began experiencing an odd series of reactions. His blood heated and his stomach clenched tightly. A sense of anticipation filled him, so much so that his reaction surprised him.

“Excuse me,” he began, halting next to his table, “I don’t mean to bother you, but …”

His words drifted off, forgotten in a moment of shock as the guy finally looked up and Brick was confronted with a pair of startlingly beautiful green eyes. Familiar eyes.

Shit. Ollie.

Brick’s previously planned introduction locked in his throat as he was faced with the fact that the guy he’d been about to try and pick up was the one guy he’d decided never to have anything to do with.

Ollie’s eyes widened as he realized that Brick was standing in front of him. he looked just as surprised as Ollie did, but the look only lasted a moment, then Brick’s features fell into the usual expression of dislike that Ollie was so familiar with.

“I’m sorry,” Brick began stiffly, “I … I didn’t realize it was you.”

Of course not, Ollie thought, he never would have come over here if he knew it was you. He dislikes you. A lot. He’d go to great lengths to avoid you and he usually does.

He didn’t voice any of his thoughts, however, instead he took the moment to take in Brick’s appearance. The other man was wearing a plain white button-down shirt and a pair of comfortable but expensive looking jeans. He looked big and tall and masculine and sexy in a casual way.

Ollie felt the stirrings of desire in his groin and tried to squash it down. It didn’t matter that ever since he’d met him, Brick had become the star of all of Ollie’s fantasies. He wanted Brick more than he’d ever wanted anyone else. But, as usual, with his luck he had to go and fall for the one guy who couldn’t stand him.

He had to keep reminding himself of that fact, forcing himself to remember the words he’d heard Brick say. They were hurtful, but helped him to maintain control over the feelings he felt for the other man.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Ollie said in a quiet voice. “I have no doubt you were hoping it was someone else.”

There was something in Ollie’s voice, something that sounded suspiciously like pain, that had Brick eyebrows pulling down into a frown. He noted the way that Ollie kept his eyes downcast, refusing – or unable – to meet his gaze.

He felt a moment’s guilt at the way he always behaved in Ollie’s company. How could he explain that his behavior wasn’t a result of his disapproval of Ollie’s past, but rather his persistent and uncontrollable desire for Ollie, despite his knowledge of his past?

It was in an effort to repress this desire that Brick always came off as an asshole. Previously, his dismissive treatment of Ollie had never bothered him because it was done in effort of self-preservation. But now, he could no longer ignore how his antagonistic front must have been perceived.

Brick stood there awkwardly for a moment. He knew he should leave, but for some reason he couldn’t.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back.

Ollie was so taken aback by the question that he was momentarily unable to answer.

Clearing his throat to cover his shock, it Ollie a moment before he answered, “Sure.”

Brick sat down in the seat opposite him and both men stared at one another in silence for a few seconds before both looking away. The situation was difficult for Brick since he wasn’t very good at making conversation. Ordinarily, when he found himself in these sorts of situations, there was very little need for idle chatter.

Not one used to making small talk, Brick waited for Ollie to say something. But Ollie, uncertain what Brick expected him to say, also remained silent.

After another moment of awkward silence, Brick ventured, “What are you reading?”

He tilted his head towards the book laying open in front of Ollie on the table.

“It’s the autobiography of a cancer survivor,” Ollie replied.

Brick hadn’t expected that. With the intensity with which Ollie had been reading, he’d expected to book to be some sort of fiction, maybe a mystery or psychological thriller or something along those lines. He certainly hadn’t been expecting the book to be about something so somber.

“I never would have guessed that someone like you would be into that sort of book,” Brick said.

“Someone like me?” Ollie asked.

Cursing his lack of skills as a conversationalist, Brick tried again, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I wouldn’t expect someone with your personality to read something so sad and serious.”

“Yeah, well, I like to read about others like me,” Ollie said before realizing what he’d revealed.

Brick’s eyes narrowed on his face. What was Ollie trying to say?

“Others like you?” Brick questioned.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ollie responded, “Yeah, cancer survivors. Like me.”

He watched the look on Brick’s face shift and change, going from shock to confusion to understanding and then finally settling into an expression of pity. It was a look that Ollie was used to receiving, but he loathed to get.

It always happened when people found out that he’d been sick. Their attitude towards him always changed. They began regarding him differently. It was as though people couldn’t express concern or offer emotional support without pity.

Ollie hated this. It made him feel as though he was still sick and he wasn’t. He had fought cancer and won. He hated feeling like he was still a patient. He had come so close to death but he’d survived. He was a cancer survivor. He had battled with a disease to which so many lost and he’d lived.

That’s what had always made Brick’s treatment of him so hurtful. Ollie had cheated death, only to have the man he wanted despise him. He’d fought so hard to live, but it appeared that the life he’d struggled to keep was going to be an empty one; one that lacked a partner, a loving relationship.

Brick was momentarily stunned. Ollie had had cancer? He looked at the man seated across from him. Ollie was so outgoing, a constant source of flamboyant energy. He looked so healthy. Despite Brick’s attempts at indifference, he had been unable to ignore Ollie’s lean, muscular body. He didn’t look like someone who had been sick. Brick was having a hard time imagining him suffering from a disease as deadly and debilitating as cancer.

“How old were you?” The words were out before Brick even realized he’d spoken.

“I was fourteen when I was diagnosed. Leukemia.”

Brick experienced another shock. Fourteen? That was so young. He hadn’t known this about Ollie and for reasons he couldn’t explain, it upset him to think about Ollie having to deal with something so serious so young.

Ollie braced himself for more questions. People always wanted to know more about his medical history. Asking him about his diagnosis, his illness, his treatment, and his recovery. Ollie waited … but nothing happened.

Instead of asking more questions, Brick said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

To Ollie, Brick’s words sounded suspiciously like a real apology instead of just a standard response to distressing information.

******

Matt woke up early the next morning and slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Adam’s sleeping form.

He felt the overwhelming need to get clean and headed straight for the bathroom. Naked, he turned on the water in the shower and adjusted the temperature, waiting until it was just right before stepping under the soothing spray.

The hot water was cleansing, and he was just beginning to relax when he heard the door of the shower stall open behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was and he reflexively stiffened.

He’d been hoping to shower in private, to give himself time to collect his thoughts and feelings before having to face Adam who would invariably want to talk about what happened. Matt didn’t want to discuss his sexual deficiency.

Adam paused for a minute when Matt didn’t turn around, wondering if it had been wise to come to him so soon. Perhaps it would have been better to give him some space. He’d awoken when he felt Matt slipping out of bed and had felt compelled to follow him.

The previous night hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. A part of him felt guilty because he had wanted Matt for so long and had done everything in his power to get him to sleep with him.

Adam grabbed a washcloth and the soap, squirting a liberal amount of body wash into the cloth after it was sufficiently damp and began washing Matt’s scarred back. At Adam’s first contact with his skin, Matt jerked slightly and stiffened further.

Adam’s gut twisted. He wished he could have prevented that tell-tale reaction. He knew they had to address the problem, and experience had taught him that it was best to do it sooner rather than later when dealing with Matt. He wasn’t looking forward to drawing attention to his own inadequacy, his failure to pleasure Matt in bed, but he knew it had to be done.

“We need to talk about what happened last night,” Adam began carefully.

Matt heard Adam’s words behind him and cringed internally. This was exactly what he had hoped to avoid. He didn’t want to talk about last night. After allowing himself to build up dangerous hope, despite his better judgment, he had had to face the painful truth he had always suspected.

There was something wrong with him. He couldn’t enjoy sex.

This knowledge, in addition to the traumatic memories of what his stepfather had done, were what had caused him to avoid Adam’s bed for so long. He hadn’t wanted his suspicions confirmed, his suspicions about his inability to ever have a normal sex life.

At Matt’s silence, Adam felt himself becoming more upset, but not at Matt. He was upset with himself. Because last night was supposed to have been Matt’s real first time and he had been unable to make him come. Instead, he had taken his own orgasm while Matt remained unfulfilled. He felt like a selfish bastard.

Adam remembered all the months that Matt had refused to let him touch him. Each time he got close, Matt would flinch and move carefully away. Adam remembered how hurt he had felt by Matt’s behavior. Now it turned out the other man had been correct to be wary of Adam’s desire.

He had taken Matt last night, but Matt obviously hadn’t found any pleasure in his arms.

Matt stood stiffly under the spray, facing the tiled wall, enduring Adam’s caress. Adam ran the soapy wash cloth up and down Matt’s scarred back in a circular motion, simultaneously cleansing and massaging his skin. When he reached the top of Matt’s ass, he felt him tense.

Adam tried to gently press the wet cloth into the crease of Matt’s ass, only to have Matt’s hips jerk forward at the contact, moving away from Adam’s touch.

Matt gasped. “Please don’t.”

Adam felt a painful pressure in his chest at the apparent fear he heard in Matt’s voice. It was worse than he thought. He had done more damage than he believed. He would rather cut off his own arm than hurt Matt, but it appeared he’d unintentionally done it anyway.

He hated to think that he was responsible for Matt’s lack of sexual desire. He didn’t like knowing he was a source of fear to his own boyfriend.

“Matt, I …” but he didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ seemed so trite in the face of Matt’s obvious pain, but he said it anyway.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He watched as Matt turned to his side in the shower, trying unsuccessfully to hide both his back and his front from Adam’s eyes. He wouldn’t look at Adam.

“I failed you. I let you down. I said you’d enjoy it. I promised to make you like it. You trusted me and … I failed.”

Adam’s words were spoken slowly and softly, prompting Matt to shoot a nervous glance at his lover. Adam thought that this was his fault? How could he believe himself responsible for Matt’s sexual dysfunction?

Adam didn’t know what last night’s events meant in regards to their relationship. Matt had never been touched by a lover. Adam was his only experience with sex besides his first violent and horrific introduction by his stepfather. It upset Adam to know that it had been a disappointment for Matt.

“I liked it,” Matt whispered, his voice so low Adam could barely make out the words. “I liked it, but … I-I couldn’t come.”

The last was said with such sadness that Adam couldn’t help moving forward until his body was pressed to Matt’s side. He brought his hands up until his body formed a human cage around Matt.

“You obviously didn’t like it enough if you didn’t come. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” Adam’s voice was hard.

“I’m not lying. I did like it,” Matt insisted.

At Matt’s denial, Adam tried once more to take him into his arms, and to his relief Matt did not pull away. He let Adam pull him close until his back was flush against Adam’s front, and Adam’s erection was nestled into the crease of his ass.

Their new position caused water from the shower to sluice over their heads, running down both their bodies.

“It will get better,” Adam whispered fervently, his lips pressed to Matt’s ear.

Matt heard Adam’s passionate promise and desperately hoped that it was true.

******

Ollie and Brick sat across from one another in strained, awkward silence.

Since making the revelation about his cancer, their conversation had become very superficial, filled with random non-sequiturs arbitrarily interspersed with the silence. Unasked questions hung in the air around them; questions that Brick was unsure how to ask and Ollie was unwilling to answer.

To Ollie, the entire encounter had a very surreal quality. He couldn’t believe that he and Brick had managed to spend so much time in each other’s company and even managed to have a semi-decent, civil conversation.

On the one hand, it brought flutters to his stomach, but on the other it reminded him of the reason the two of them had never spent any time together socially that wasn’t forced. It was because Brick avoided him like the plague.

It was that thought that reminded Ollie why Brick had always gone out of his way to ensure the two of them never crossed paths. Recalling that Brick had such a low opinion of him was a sobering thought for Ollie. He resolved not to let Brick see the way he felt about him, not again.

He snuck a quick glance at Brick from under his lashes only to be confronted by Brick’s steady gaze. He lowered his eyes self-consciously, preparing himself for Brick’s inevitable withdrawal.

It came as no surprise when Brick spoke. “I should go.”

His voice contained the customary curtness that was always present when he spoke to Ollie. Ollie was used to it and knew that Brick used it to forestall any of his unwanted attentions. He forced himself to look away from Brick’s devastatingly handsome face, swallowing jerkily.

Brick didn’t wait for his response, he rose from his chair and stood, pausing awkwardly for a moment before saying, “I’ll see you around.”

It was a non-committal farewell and Ollie tried to not to let Brick’s eagerness to escape his presence hurt, but it stung anyway. He fought not to watch as Brick walked away, but he couldn’t help himself, knowing instinctively that they would probably never have another interlude like the one they’d just shared.