T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 1 - Bear, Otter, and the Kid (46 page)

“Why?” I cry out. “I push and push and push you away, and you keep coming back. Why!”

 

“Because I fucking love you, you idiot,” he growls in my ear. “Why the hell do you think I would buy you a fucking house if I didnt love you?” I jump out of his arms again. “You
what
?”

 

“Uh, shit,” he says sheepishly, rubbing his hands through his hair. He then points at the green monstrosity behind us. “Surprise.”

 

“
You bought me a fucking house
!” I scream at him.

 

He looks around quickly. “Yeah, but tone it down a little. I dont want our new neighbors to think a woman is being murdered outside.” “
Our neighbors
!” I bellow at him.

He flinches. “Yeah, our neighbors. This house is for you and me and the Kid. Hell get to stay in the same school district and everything. I know it doesnt look like much now, but—”

“
You bought a house in two weeks
?” I yell.

“Well, no, Bear, it can take a couple of months to buy a house. I offered a quick cash buyout, and I was able to close on it in forty-five days, which was”—he looks down at his watch—“seventeen hours ago.”

“
You’ve been buying a house for the last two mon
—” My shout is blocked off as his hand covers my mouth.

 

“Jesus Christ, inside voice,” he hisses.

I glare at him over his fingers. I want to spit a loogie into his palm, but he would just rub it on my face, so I roll my eyes, and he drops his hand. “You started buying us a house
two
months ago?” I whisper loudly, showing him my inside voice.

“Have you always been this quick? Or is it something youve developed over the last few days?”

 

“Youre not funny, and dont change the subject.”

Otter grins at me. “Im hilarious. And yes, I started buying the house about two months ago. Why, do you want to stay in your apartment? No offense, but it was kind of hard to drill you into the wall when you share a room with your little brother.”

My blood starts a slow slimmer, working its way to boiling. “But I broke up with you,” I spit out, the sludge still pouring out of me. “You closed on the house even though we had broken up? You could have backed out on it.”

“I could have,” he says slowly. “But I didnt.”

 

“And nothing about this screamed at you that this was happening way too fast?”

 

He shakes his head and grins that Otter grin. “Nothings too fast if it means forever, Bear.”

 

“
But how do you know
?”

“I have faith,” he says simply. And with this, every argument, every doubt, every single thing that has held me back dissolves into nothing. I leap at him and he catches me (of course), and I press my mouth hungrily against his and a low moan escapes him and enters me. I taste it, taste him, his hot lips and tongue as they work me over. Who knew buying me a house was one of my turn-ons? I wonder what would happen if he bought me a yacht. Or shares of Microsoft.

We make out for a little bit longer (
making out
may be too light a phrase; really, Im eating his face) until he pushes away, gasping. “We need to go inside so we dont give everyone a show right here.”

My cock is rock solid and wouldnt object to that. I grind up against him to show him as much. “You better have the fucking key to our fucking house, or were going to break the fucking door down right fucking now,” I pant at him.

“Its in my pocket,” he says, and he groans when I reach into his pocket and roughly knock his dick around while I look for the key. “My back pocket,” he says, leaning in to bite my lip, licking the sharpness away.

I reach around and shove both hands in his back pockets, handling his ass roughly until I feel the familiar shape of a key. A house key.
Our
house key. I grasp it and pull it out, and Ive never seen anything more wonderfully frightening or catastrophically inevitable in all my life. He takes my hands in his and kisses them gently and pulls the key from my trembling fingers. Otter drags me to the front door thats the same weird shade of green as the rest of the house, but I dont seem to mind it much anymore. The lock clicks. He pushes the door open. I see a button attached to the side of the house and push it. The doorbell rings, so very much like my own. It
is
my own.

“It needs a lot of work,” he warns me as he shuts the door behind me. “Well need to pull up the carpet, but Im told there are some really nice hardwood floors underneath. I think well have to—”

Ive heard enough. I dont care about the house right now (but seriously, though, he bought us a house? How stupidly insanely stupid/epic is that?). I cut off his words about hardwood floors and carpet and whatever else hes going to say as I press my mouth feverishly against his. The way his hands are instantly upon me show me that he doesnt mind the interruption. I marvel at his talented fingers, going right to my ass as he pulls me roughly against him. I groan into his face.

“Theres no bed, Papa Bear,” he growls into my mouth as he licks and nips.

“You said something about drilling me into a wall?” I say breathlessly. I have a moment to regret my words when his eyes flash dangerously. Otter paws desperately at the button of my jeans. My cock bobs free, and the air is cold until his mouth is on me, trying to suck my brains out. My eyes roll back into my head, and the edges of my vision grow hazy, and all rational thought is gone. Thats okay, though. I think too much anyway.

He licks the tip of my dick and looks up at me, eyes lidded and beautiful. “I dont have any lube,” he says as he nuzzles my balls. Its the most romantic thing hes ever said to me until I actually understand his words.

“Oh, for fucks sake!” I howl. I jerk him up to his feet with strength I dont know I have. I rip at the front of his jeans and the button breaks off. We dont care. Making sure hes watching me, I spit into my hand and slather it over his heated cock. His eyes go wide as he rocks his head back and groans.

“Thats going to hurt, baby,” he says, not really fighting me on it. I shudder at his endearment: hes never called me that before. It shakes me. It moves me. It makes it all the more of a necessity that he is in me right now. I grab the back of his head and pull his eyes back down to mine. I bring his hand up to my mouth and suck on two of his fingers greedily, getting them as wet as I can. I spit them out ungracefully, drool hanging from my lips.

“Get me ready,” I hiss at him.
He does.

When he enters me, it burns, the sting traveling up and down my body. I think maybe it will be enough to actually say this was a bad idea, but then he angles himself differently, and heaven breaks open, and angels spill down and a choir sings the gospel according to gay sex:
PROSTATE!
Wave after wave crashes over me, pleasure and pain, but Im tethered to him and hes got me and in that moment it starts it starts—

it starts as a wind begins to blow past me, over me, through me, pushing the gathering storm out to sea. The sun breaks through the clouds and there begins a deep rumbling noise deep from within the waves. The ground shifts and shakes and eventually breaks apart. The ocean, that damnable ocean, beings to rush toward the chasm that has opened, forming a whirlpool that howls and screams as it spins. Lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, but it is so far away now. As I watch, the ocean gives a dying gasp as the seabed is transformed into a desert. The storm dies. The sun shines. The dusty surface is cracked, parched. But it holds together. A small breeze ruffles my hair, reminding me of what I’ve done to get to this point. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, and from there, from there

—
and from there, the only thing I can do is hold on for dear life, hold on while this man, my Otter, shows me just how much he loves me. I only hope he feels it in return. I hope he sees that I will give him all I can. I hope he sees that Im in this for the long haul.

And you know what? All of you that have stuck with me through to the end?

 

I think he sees it just fine.
Epilogue
or
Otter’s Perspective, As It Were (Bear’s Gonna Freak)
Six months later

T
HE
Kid shouts at me as he gets off the school bus. He turns and waves to some girl hanging out the window screaming at him. He rolls his eyes as he turns back to me.

“Whos that?” I grin at him.

He scowls. “Some sixth grader whos got it in her head that its adorable for a nine-year-old to be in the fifth grade. She told me Im
precious
.”
I laugh. “Older women, huh? Dont let Papa Bear know about that. Hes still a wreck over letting you skip a grade.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me inside. “Dont remind me,” he grumbles over his shoulder. “He wrote another note and put it in my lunch again.”
I groan as I slide his bag off his back. “What did it say this time?”
The Kid scrunches his face up, and when his voice comes out, its an eerie imitation of Bear. “„Kid, please dont correct your teacher again in class. I dont want to be called in for another Brother-Teacher conference about how you need to skip to your freshman year in college. My heart cant take it.”
“Well, hes got a point.”
The Kid shakes his head. “How can a certified teacher not know how to spell
constitution
? No wonder Anderson Cooper says our school systems are failing the students.”
“And we all know that if Anderson Cooper says its true, it must be.”
His eyes narrow. “I would agree with you, but youre obviously making fun of me.”
I ruffle his hair. “Obviously. Speaking of the system, dont forget the social worker is coming over tomorrow at three.”
“How could I forget about Olga Ehrlichman?” he scowls. “I swear she makes her German accent worse just to weird me out.”
“I dont think shes German, Kid.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “Thats what
you
think. I know shes trying to get me to be a part of the
Schutzstaffel.
Cant we scare her off and get a new one? We could tell her were Jewish.”
I shake my head, trying to hide my smile. “I dont think that would be such a great idea. Weve got another court date coming up next month, and we dont want to take the chance of it being the time your mother actually shows up.”
“I dont know why we have to keep going to court,” he mumbles. “If she had the balls to try anything, I think it would have happened by now.” I think hes right, but I dont tell him so. Not until Bear and I can be sure. And we wont be sure until the Kid legally belongs to Bear. It shouldnt be that much longer, at least according to the attorney. The judge had tried to throw a little fit about the whole power of attorney thing (“This illegally obtained power of attorney was acquired with an exchange of
cigarettes
?”), but Erica Sharp of the illustrious Weiss, Goldstein, and Eddington had grinned her shark-like grin and tore the judge a new asshole. It was brutal to watch, especially when she trotted out the Kid like a show dog and the Kid had hammed it up by giving his best Oliver Twist “Please, sir, can I have some more?” look that he does so well. His eyes were wide and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly, and I swear to God I could hear the judges heart melting from where I sat in the galley twenty feet away. Hell, I almost stood up and demanded to adopt the Kid myself right then. He was that good.
The social worker visits have gone well, no matter the Kids observations of her heritage. Hes not stupid and is always on his best behavior when shes here. I had wondered before her first visit if she would have said anything about Bear and me. But of course, she didnt bat an eye when she walked in on Bear kissing me sweetly, even when Bear started blushing and grumbling to himself about getting caught. Shes probably seen shitloads worse in other homes to worry about two guys kissing.
“Well see,” I tell the Kid. “Just go easy on
Frau
Ehrlichmann.”
The Kid goes to the fridge and pulls out his after-school snap peas. “Everything ready for tonight?” he says, tactfully changing the subject.
I sigh. “As ready as itll ever be.” I reach down and pat the two small objects in my front pocket. For the thousandth time in the last hour. “Are you sure about this?”
He crunches on the vegetables and looks at me. “Are
you
?”
I nod once.
He shrugs. “Well, then, of course Im sure.” He pauses and then snickers. “Papa Bears gonna freak out. I wish I could be here to see it,” he adds wistfully.
“Thanks, Kid. As if I wasnt nervous enough already,” I growl at him.
He laughs. “Youll do fine. You get everything I said to?”
I nod again.
“And you have what we wrote?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? You really think I should say that?”
The Kid smiles. “Seriously. You think hell get the hidden meaning in it?”
“Kid, you may be the smartest person alive, but a master of subtlety you are not.”
He starts to walk toward his room. “With Bear,” he says over his shoulder, “you kind of have to be blatant. Otherwise, hell miss the whole point.”
“And
that’s
the point of what Im about to do?” I yell after him.
“I cant hear you!” he yells back. The little liar. “I have to get ready before Mrs. Paquinn gets here. And you need to go get dressed. I got your suit ready this morning.”
I groan and sit down at the table, feeling the two small pieces of metal press against my thigh. I pull out my wallet and find the slip of paper the Kid had stuck in there a couple of days ago. We had spent hours agonizing over it, but in the end, got it just right, at least according to the Kid. I grin to myself as I read over the words Ive long since memorized.
The Kid is right: Bears gonna freak.
Bear! Bear! Bear!
I’ve something to say! Don’t be scared!
Bacon is bad! Beef is wrong!
Mad Cow Disease stays with you for a time that’s long!
I want you to be mine, can’t you see?
That’s why I am down, down on my knee!
It may not yet be legal,
but it’s better than eating a beagle,
so won’t you please marry me?

About the Author
When TJ K
LUNE
was eight, he picked up a pen and paper and began to

write his first story (which turned out to be his own sweeping epic version of the video game Super Metroid—he didnt think the game ended very well and wanted to offer his own take on it. He never heard back from the video game company, much to his chagrin). Now, two decades later, the cast of characters in his head has only gotten louder, wondering why he has to go to work as a claims examiner for an insurance company during the day when he could just stay home and write.
He lives with a neurotic cat in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. Its hot there, but he doesnt mind. He dreams about one day standing at Stonehenge, just so he can say he did.
TJ can be found on Facebook under TJ Klune.
His blog is tjklunebooks.blogspot.com.
You can e-mail him at
[email protected]
.