The departure time for the flight was delayed thirty minutes. Although the rain had changed to a drizzle, I could still see lightning in the distance. The gate area was crowded with people. I expected a full flight, and with the delay adding to the tension, I was glad I'd spent the extra money for extra legroom. At six-two, economy was usually acceptable for short flights like this one, but on crowded flights with rowdy passengers, I preferred not to have people so close to the front and back of me.
I finished my water, but I was concerned that if I got up to recycle the bottle, my seat would disappear. I tried my best not to crunch it. I hated it when people played with empty plastic bottles; the noise grated on my nerves, so I tried to be respectful of anyone else hypersensitive to it.
Boarding announcements came over the speakers. I checked my pass. 21F, the window seat next to the emergency exit. Reading the directions on the door operation would give me something to do while people boarded.
Another announcement from the gate attendant asked everyone to check the boarding group. I was in group two. Group one was first class, and they were called. When I was a child, the people in first class were impeccably dressed, and the passengers in coach always looked as though they were on their way to church. I scanned the area; most of the coach passengers were barely dressed. Travel safety suggested long cotton pants and a cotton shirt or blouse. I actually saw a man in a wife-beater shirt.
The man at the gate counter called my group. I grabbed my carry-on and proceeded to the line. I heard several people gripe about how long it was taking. I wanted to tell them to just relax because I had noticed how much more smoothly boarding went when passengers were calm and nice to one another. I smiled at the woman scanning our passes and entered the jetway.
The flight attendant who stood near the entrance guiding people toward the back was a cute man, probably in his late twenties. I estimate he stood just under six feet. He had a crew cut with reddish-blond hair and green eyes. I smiled and nodded my head at him.
"Welcome aboard." He smiled back.
I did a quick eyebrow movement as I maintained eye gaze to let him know I thought he was attractive. I turned and took a few steps into the cabin before turning back and smiling. I'm sure I got his attention. I will admit that I had a fun time with a flight attendant during his layover in DC. I wondered whether I would get lucky again.
Making my way to my seat, I had no difficulty. I stowed my carryon in the overhead compartment and took my seat. The window was centered in the door which was slightly ahead of me. I checked the instruction booklet and examined the door to make sure I knew how to operate it. I saw no problems, so I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes. Hopefully, the departure would not be delayed further.
I must have started to zone out because I was startled by a man who apologized for disturbing me as he took his seat. He was an ordinary-looking man who looked to be in his early twenties. His hair, although combed, looked as though it were overdue for a haircut. His features included slightly oversized ears, a strong straight nose, full lips. His smile revealed slightly crooked teeth. He was just an average looking guy. He wasn't overweight, but it was obvious that he didn't work out. So why did I find him attractive?
"The middle seat is 21E, isn't it?" There was uncertainty in his voice.
"It is," I answered and smiled at him. He smiled a little broader, and I felt a shiver.
"Where should I put this?" He swung his backpack in front of him.
"It looks like it'll fit better in the overhead." I nodded my head up.
He glanced up and said, "Duh." He slid the pack in. I grabbed the seatbelt part closest to me and moved it out of his way. The armrest was up which meant his leg had a greater chance of resting against mine. I felt a twitch in my crotch. He sat down and reached under his butt for the other end of the belt. He took the part I was holding. "Thanks." He smiled again and buckled himself in.
"First time flying?"
"Yeah."
"And you were able to buckle yourself in without watching the flight attendant directions." I chuckled a little. "I'm Scott Landrum."
"Patrick Turner."
We shook hands awkwardly since we were both facing forward and belted in our seats.
"So," asked Patrick, "they really do show you how to buckle your seatbelt the way they show it in the movies."
"Yes, they do. Every single time. They also point to the exits; although, the last few times I've flown, they show it on these little monitors." I pointed to the back of the seats in front of us. "It's all high tech. You heading to Dallas, or are you off to somewhere else?" I couldn't believe how chatty I was being. I usually just nodded at my seat partners and kept to my self. I only used my seductive talents, poor as they were, on straight acting male flight attendants.
"I'm going to Dallas." His eyes seemed to get sad as he said it.
"For business?"
"To find a job, so yeah, I guess it's for business."
"What do you know how to do?"
I saw him suck his lower lip into his mouth, and his jaw tensed up. Nerves. I patted his knee. "It's OK."
He turned to me, and his eyes got a little misty. "I have an Associate's in networking, and I'm good at SQL."
I nodded.
"And my parents kicked me out of the house, so I just want to get as far away as I can."
"I've always found that things seem to work out, even when there's something that seems insurmountable in our way."
"I stole my mother's credit card to buy this ticket. I don't know anyone in Dallas, and everything I own is in my backpack. I don't know what I'm doing, and now I'm blubbering."
I turned to face him as much as the seatbelt let me. "Hey, it's OK." Hell, I thought. He's facing the same thing I did five years ago when my parents threw me out of the house. My heart went out to him. For a moment, I was torn.
Just then, an elderly man sat down in the aisle seat. He looked over at us. "Tell me, are you two married or just dating."
I realized I had grabbed Patrick's hand when he started to get emotional. He hadn't pulled away, and I was still holding it. I wondered whether the old man was about to throw a fit. "Dating," I said, and I let
Patrick looked at me and then back at the man.
"Well good for you," said our new seat buddy. "I met my man back in the army when I was eighteen. We had to hide everything from everybody."
A flight attendant stopped by to determine whether we were comfortable on an exit row. I nodded; Patrick did as well. The man said he was OK with it, but if there was an empty seat elsewhere, he would move. There wasn't, so he stayed. He leaned over toward us. "I thought I'd give you a little privacy, but it didn't work."
"Thanks for trying," said Patrick. He rubbed the side of my knee, "And, thank you."
I felt the cabin door close with a change of pressure in my ears. The flight attendant made an announcement about personal items and carry-on bags. I turned back to Patrick.
"Patrick, I want you to know that I understand what you're going through. I was kicked out after college. My dad suspected and went through my stuff and found my DVD collection. He gave me two options. I could be out of the house in an hour, or he would beat me senseless and give me two hours to be out. I stayed with some friends until I got on my feet. It sounds as though you need a friend."
He looked at me. His eyes misted again.
"I'm offering you a place to stay. I think God gave you that seat assignment so that we could meet and I could help you."
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it away.
The plane lurched back, and the flight attendant announced the flight and asked us to watch the safety video. Patrick watched the video intently. I listened to the safety features of their Boeing 737-700 aircraft. There was nothing new. We bounced down out to our place in line.
Patrick turned to me. "You know, when I got on the plane, I felt horrible. I was worried that I might not have a future. I didn't know what I was going to do. You've given me a sense of well-being. I don't know how I could ever pay you back."
"Someone was kind to me once, and he asked me to pay it forward. I'm glad I could do it for someone whom I already like." That made him smile.
"Ladies and Gentleman, this is Captain Rollings. I apologize for the delay. We are ninth in line for take-off. Right now, DFW airport is open. They are expecting freezing rain later this evening. Our scheduled arrival time is well ahead of that; however, Austin is our designated alternate airport. First Officer Nelson and I will do our best for you."
"I've heard Austin has a large homeless population."
"Yeah, but you have a couch with a name on it at my place."
"That's right," Patrick laughed. He tilted his head toward the man next to him. "Besides, we're dating."
I reached over and pulled his head next to mine. I kissed his temple and saw him blush. "Sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"No. It's OK." The engine noise increased, and the plane bounced a little again as we moved forward in the line. "How'd you know I'm gay?" he whispered.
"Well, I hoped when you first smiled at me. I suspected when I grabbed your hand and you didn't pull away. I was almost certain when you rubbed my knee with your hand."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are next in line for departure." The engines began to spin up. We moved forward again, turned, and without stopping, we began moving down the runway.
As we sank back into our seats, Patrick looked over at me. "Whoa."
I smiled. We picked up speed and lifted into some mildly turbulent air. The plane bounced around as it had, traveling to the runway from the gate. It was getting dark, and as we entered a cloud, the light in the cabin diminished markedly and the turbulence increased.
"Is this normal?" Patrick asked.
"Completely," I reassured him. "The increased turbulence is due to the storms. We're fine."
The plane shook a few more times as we reached cruising altitude. I dug a paperback book out of the bag I'd stuffed under the seat. I'd just finished it, so I handed it to Patrick. It was a murder mystery, and he seemed to get into it rather quickly. I worked on a crossword puzzle book. It didn't take long for me to nod off.
"Scott." I felt my arm wiggle. "We're starting to land."
I opened my eyes. I don't usually sleep through an entire flight. I stretched my back.
"I put the book back in your bag, and your crossword book and pencil, too. The captain says we're going to be the last plane into Dallas. The freezing rain is just north of the airport."
"Wow. The last one, huh?" I bent forward and peered out the window. It was completely dark. Only a few lights from the ground reached us. The plane took a big dip. Someone in the front screamed. I sensed an empty feeling in my stomach that made me feel nauseated.
The flight attendant announced the final landing instructions. A flight attendant passed by checking the tray tables. "Flight attendants to your stations. Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain indicates that we are fewer than five minutes from touchdown and to expect a longer than usual roll down the runway."
"What does that mean?" asked Patrick.
"The runway is wet, and the pilot will not use the brakes as hard. We can expect the engines to get really loud when the reverse thrusters are activated to slow the plane down."
"I'm glad you know what's going on. I think I'd have freaked out and screamed like whoever did it up there."
As we neared the runway, I had a sense that there must be some crosswind as we were being buffeted more than usual. I saw the lights indicating the start of the runway pass under us, and within a few seconds, the sound of the wheels contacting the runway echoed through the plane. The engines roared, and the aircraft began to slow; however, almost immediately we seemed to lurch left.
I looked at Patrick. "That is not normal." Before I finished that sentence, I knew the plane was skidding down the runway. "Shit!" The passengers went silent. "Do this," I told Patrick, and I leaned forward with my arms crossed on the seat in front of me. I put my forehead on my crossed arms. At that moment, the plane left the runway. The fuselage dropped as the gear under the starboard wing collapsed. The engine seemed to scream as the plane came to a stop.
I unbuckled and checked outside. I saw no flames, so I pulled open the emergency exit and tossed it out. "Come on." I grabbed Patrick, and we stepped out onto the wing. "Slide down the flaps, and help people so they don't fall onto the ground." I held onto Patrick's shirt to make sure he slid down safely. Then I turned to help other passengers who were coming out of the emergency exit.
"Stay together and get away from the plane," I shouted. The rain began to come down. Sometimes it was sleet. The bitter cold made me realize that I'd left my coat, but helping everyone out was more important. "Stay huddled together, but get away from the plane." I'm not sure how many times I said it, but my voice began to get hoarse. Finally, no one else came out. I put my head inside and shouted, "Is anyone else here?" There was no answer.
I turned and slid down the back of the wing and into Patrick's arms.
"Everyone went that way, Scott." I followed him until we reached the group of passengers. All of us were cold and wet. The firetrucks and emergency vehicles arrived. It seemed to take forever before a bus drove up. The group I was with lined up calmly. I asked Patrick to save me a seat, and I counted as people got on the bus.
I turned to someone in emergency gear. "Twenty-two, oh wait, plus me. That makes twenty-three on the bus." I got on the bus and sat next to Patrick. People began to thank me. I was exhausted and wet; I just wanted to go home.
The clock read after one in the morning when I pulled into the parking space at my apartment. Patrick had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Fortunately for me, I had transferred my wallet and keys to my pockets before stuffing my bag under the seat on the plane. I shook Patrick's shoulder to awaken him. "I have to shower. These wet clothes are driving me crazy."
"I want to shower, too, but I need to pee," he told me.
As I unlocked the door, I told him, you go pee and then jump in the shower. I pointed the way.
He ran into the bathroom and didn't even close the door behind him. He must have really needed to go.
"Hey," he called. "Almost done. Take your shower. I saw him walk to the sink and wash.
I passed him on the way in. I didn't completely close the door, but I closed it enough to block the shower. I got the shower going and brushed my teeth and stepped into the water stream. I wanted to stay in there forever, but I knew Patrick needed to clean up, too. Finishing quickly, I toweled off and called him into the bathroom. I slapped his ass as he went by me.
I dug through my underwear drawer and found a new package of low-rise briefs. I tossed them on the bed for Patrick and put on a pair of my favorites.
I went to set my alarm, and I realized that my phone was in my bag. Maybe it was still on the plane. I would have to go tomorrow to get another one. Who knows if I'd ever get my current stuff back or when. A feeling of confusion seemed to come over me. Even though I'd slept on the plane, exhaustion was overtaking me.
I was crawling into bed when Patrick walked into the room with no clothes on. He looked really good. His cock was medium-sized. I pointed to the package of underwear, but I was OK with his not wearing anything. Shit, I'd forgotten to make a place for him to sleep on the sofa. I looked up at him; he stood there staring at me. "I'm too tired to make up the couch. Why don't you just sleep here tonight?"
He walked over to the bed, opened the package, and slipped into some bright red underwear. "These are too sexy for me."
"Just get into bed. We'll shop for some grandpa panties tomorrow."
He slipped in under the covers and moved close to me. "Thank you, Scott."
"You're a good man, Patrick. I didn't do anything that you didn't deserve." I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
The incessant ringing of the doorbell woke me. As I got out of bed, I heard my bed partner mumble something. I hurried to the door in just my underwear and peeked out. It was Jerry Thorne from work. I opened the door to let him in.
"I knew you were here; I saw your car. Are you OK?"
Before I could answer, he was talking again. "You're on the news, you know?"
"Why?" I yawned.
"For saving all those people, you fuckwad." Jerry had a potty mouth. Cursing isn't always appropriate.
"I didn't save anyone." I yawned again; this time I stretched, too.
"Not the way they're telling it. The news says you and your boyfriend saved about twenty-five people."
Patrick walked into the room. "Hi."
"Is this the boyfriend?" asked Jerry.
I looked over at Patrick. He smiled. My dick twitched. I looked back at Jerry. "He is."
"Lucky bastard."
"Language, Jerry." I shook my head.
"Anyway," Jerry continued, "they've got you on video going back into the plane to check for survivors. Everybody at work is talking about it, and the news is searching for you. They only have your first name, Scott. Your boyfriend here called it out. The NBA isn't releasing it."
"You mean the NTSB?"
"Whatever."
Patrick laughed. Jerry obviously didn't like it. I saw it on his face.
"Why don't you go back to work, Jerry."
"So." I heard nastiness in his tone. "Is this guy a better fuck than I was?"
"Everybody's a better fuck than you are, Jerry."
"That's not what you said at the time." He turned to Patrick. "That's not what he said at the time."
"Jerry, I lied to you. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. But you're being an asshole right now. Go back to work, and let everyone know that I'll be in tomorrow."
Jerry got up and left. I looked over at Patrick; he was trying not to look hurt. He forced a smile.
I sat in front of him and put his hand in mine. He leaned forward until our heads touched.
His voice was barely above a whisper. "Whatever happened was before I met you. It has nothing to do with you and me."
"That's true," I replied. "But he said things that hurt you. I want to tell you what happened."
"OK."
"Jerry and I were work friends; we'd go to lunch now and again. Then his wife left him; he was depressed. Several of us went out to dinner with him. I lived closest to him, so I was the one taking him home. The waiter spilled a lot of food on me, so I stopped at my place to change.
"Jerry kept talking about hating women and switching to men. He followed me into the bathroom where I started to remove my clothes. He told me he thought I was good looking and he'd wanted to see if things might go somewhere between us. I was doubtful, but I was horny. He wanted to practice gay sex. He said if he liked it, then we could start dating. So, I fucked him. You know how sometimes you meet someone and within 5 seconds, you don't like him. It was like that. It was a bad decision. I was thinking with my dick.
"Jerry said it felt good, but he would rather fuck pussy. He asked me not to say anything, but I told HR that I had made a mistake and slept with him. I didn't want it to come back later from someone he might tell."
"He's never mentioned it before now?" asked Patrick.
"No. This was the first time." I sat back up. "I want you to know that I'll always answer your questions about this or anything else."
"I trust you, Scott. I've started making a place for you in my heart. I want to have sex with you."
"When I know that I'm falling in love with you, I'll let you know. Right now, I'm lusting after you to a level I've never experienced before. I am so attracted to you that I can hardly stand it. But I know your value; I don't want to use you."
"You're saying that makes me think that you've already started falling."
I leaned forward again and kissed him. "You need to shower while I find you some sweatpants to wear. We need to go shopping. What size condom do you wear?"
"Condom?" he chuckled.
"We should be prepared; we've got a long day, and who knows what my heart will decide by dinner time."
I will admit that I hate shopping for clothes. I thought it might be fun with a partner. I was wrong. Shopping for clothes for someone else is worse. Plus, Patrick was being very price-conscious. After spending thirty minutes choosing identical slacks in four colors, I directed him to the Polo shirts. That's what we wear at the office, and although he didn't know it, he had a job starting the next week as a Level 1 SQL programmer.
We found the shirts; he wore a large. I asked him which colors did not look good on him. He wasn't sure, so I pulled one of every color. There were twelve colors. I held each one up to him and rejected the pale yellow and the bright pink. I asked him for his favorite color of the shirt. He chose burgundy. I picked up two more burgundy shirts and bought twelve Polo shirts.
He didn't wear t-shirts, so we went to the underwear; I found out he liked the ones he was wearing. I'd purchased those on-line, so we were done and out of there.
"That was too expensive," he claimed.
"You're worth it, and our time is valuable. You're going to need a car, but I don't feel like car shopping today. I guess you can ride to work with me."
"I've got to get a job first. Now that I've got some clothes, I can go out on interviews."
"Do you like crab?" I interrupted.
"Never had any."
"What about shrimp?"
Patrick smiled. "I love them."
"Perfect."
"What?"
"I'm not telling," I smirked. "Not yet anyway."
I drove us to the Crab Shack, and we picked a booth in the back. I ordered us Dungeness, Snow Crab, and shrimp. I preferred my crab steamed with no added spices or sauce, so that's the way it came. I showed him how to crack open a leg, and after telling me he liked it, I made my announcement.
"We are here to celebrate. I called my boss to ask about SQL positions, and he said we have one."
"Cool. When do I interview? Tomorrow?"
"Actually, you start work on Monday. I vouched for you."
Patrick's eyes welled up. When the first teardrop fell on his tray, I knew I was in love. I moved to his side of the booth and kissed his cheek. I whispered into his ear. "I've fallen, and I can't get up." I moved back to my seat. "Now, enjoy your crab."
We took about two hours to eat the crab and shrimp, but each savory moment was worth it. The food was great as well. When we got to the car, I wished we had a bench seat so he could sit right next to me. We drove quietly for a short while; I noticed Patrick looking over at me from time to time, but he didn't say anything.
I pulled into a shopping center parking lot, and he suddenly burst out, "I thought we were going straight home."
"We need to make sure we have plenty of condoms and lubricants. No raw sex until we've been tested. What's your favorite brand?"
"I don't know. I've never needed one before."
"We'll get a variety pack then." I looked over at him and smiled. "I'll buy a couple of boxes of three dozen."
We went into the drugstore, found the family planning section, and Patrick began reading the boxes. "Just put them in my shopping basket." We ended up at the register over one hundred condoms.
The clerk smiled at us as he scanned the boxes and put them in a bag. "Stocking up, I see." He grinned a little wider.
I looked at our supply. "No. That's about a month's worth."
He looked up at Patrick who gave him a possum eating shit grin.
"Fucking lucky dog," said the clerk.
"What did you say, Ronald?" His manager was a feisty-looking older woman.
I spoke up. "He said something about a funny looking box, but I don't see any dents on it."
She turned and walked off.
"Thanks, man." He turned to Patrick. "You don't have a brother, do you, dude?"
"Sorry. No."
We walked out with smiles on our faces.
"Next stop, home," shouted Patrick.
"I thought we'd stop at Dairy Queen for a Dilly Bar," I said trying not to laugh.
"I'm going to Dilly Bar you." He began to poke me with his finger.
"Are you showing me what to expect? We might need to get some smaller condoms."
"You're gonna wish it was smaller."
"Oh, ho, bragging now. The proof is in the penis." I started running the rest of the way to the car.
I closed and locked the door to my apartment. As I turned around, Patrick pushed me against the door. His mouth pushed against mine. His tongue pushed in. He was a voracious animal. He dropped the bag he was holding and reached for my legs and pulled them up. I wrapped them around his waist. He pushed me against the door and crushed our groins together. My dick was already rock hard. I wanted to fuck him; I wanted him to fuck me. I didn't want to wait for either one.
Patrick grabbed my butt and carried me into the bedroom. I had no idea he was that strong. Fuck, he was making me want him even more. He placed me on the bed and rolled me back. We were in a missionary position with our clothes still on. He was humping me, and I could feel his hardness through his clothes.
"Take your clothes off," he growled. He stood up and left the room.
I pulled my shirt off and had my pants to my knees when he came back in with the bag of condoms. He was completely naked. How had he done that so fast? He dumped the bag onto the bed and grabbed the cuffs of my pants. My underwear was still at my knees. He reached for them.
"Scott, I love you more than... I can't even find the words."
I tore into the condoms and opened one. "Then show me." He unrolled the rubber over his rock hard cock as I opened the lube. I used too much in my excitement, but I didn't care. I wanted to feel him inside me. I rubbed lube on my hole and rolled again onto my back. "Take me."
Patrick moved his body back over mine and pushed himself into me. My anus stretched to fit him. I felt a rush that forced me to breathe in sharply, and then stillness.
He moved his head silently to mine and covered my mouth with his. He licked my lips, and his tongue traveled down to my chin then followed my jawline to my ear. As he circled my outer ear with the tip of his tongue he began to gently thrust in and out of me. My knees were at his shoulders, and as he reached maximum insertion, my abs would tremble. No one had made me feel like this.
Every motion of his cock stimulated my prostate. My dick swelled with each thrust. I wondered if it might break like a balloon. I increasingly felt the urge to come. I wanted to hold back. I pulled Patrick's head toward mine and chewed lightly on his chin. I thought that attending to that might distract me from coming, but instead, it made him begin to moan more loudly and thrust more actively. I was unable to stop myself, and I ejaculated with more force than I had since my teenage years.
As I sprayed cum over my chest and lower face, Patrick exclaimed a "Fuck yeah," and he came. The look on his face was fierce. He was breathing like an untrained runner at the end of a marathon. He raised his upper body and gently pulled out of me. He looked down at me, and his face softened.
He began to get emotional. "I feel like a blubbering idiot," he said through the tears. "I just met you, and I am so in love that I can feel my heart, really feel it."
I pulled him next to me in bed. "And I love you. I never believed that I could feel this happy, and you're right; it happened faster than I would have thought possible. Plus, I can't believe how incredible it felt to make love with you."
"I wanted you so much," he told me. "I wanted all of me inside you." He moved closer to me, and I held him. I knew that this was right, the two of us. I knew that we would endure.
Patrick wore three condoms that night; I wore two. I didn't have the energy to do him a third time, but I wanted to. My dick was sore the next day; my ass was fine. I planned to go back to the same drug store in three weeks and tell Ronald that we ran out, that is unless we ran out before then.
