Evans Woodworking chapter 26

Ethan simply stated that he really needed to talk to Chris, somewhere private. While Chris was in the shower, Ethan pondered what to tell him and how to tell him without sounding like he’d gone crazy.

After about a half hour the two men were sitting in their living room each with a beer in hand saying facing each other; a curious expression on Chris’s face.

“I was looking over this roll-top desk I’m restoring and when I turned around to look at the original pictures, a guy suddenly appeared right in front of me, right out of thin air.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You mean you turned around and he was standing there?”

“No, I turned around and then he appeared. He was so close I could have kissed him. I freaked and fainted. When I came to, this guy, his name was Ryan, grabbed my hand to help me up and I swear it was like touching a live wire. You know the song ‘Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped in time...’? That’s the way he made me feel. I know its cliché, but it felt like time had stopped.”

“Are you sure you’re not imagining all this? It could be an after-effect of the trauma you just went through.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.” What Ethan didn’t know was that he was having the same effect on Ryan. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you thought about talking to him?”

“I don’t have any way to get in touch with him. He did say he might have something to be restored, and that if he did he’d contact me.”

“Let’s hope he does. In the meantime, do I smell roast chicken?”

“Yeah, it should be ready by now. Let’s eat.” Over dinner, Ethan described the 6-2, 215 pound muscular man with crimson hair and cerulean eyes, taking good-natured flak from Chris about his use of ‘crimson’ and ‘cerulean’ as opposed to ‘red’ and to which his response to Chris was ‘fuck you’.

"So not happening, little brother. However, I suspect that if this Ryan guy were to flash his dick in front of your face you'd be bent over with your pants around your ankles quicker n' shit." Chris teased.

"Yeah, don't I wish," Ethan responded wistfully. “Ready for some ice cream?”

“Make mine chocolate, please.”

Over dessert their conversation turned into a discussion on how the superficial the local gay community. This in turn triggered Ethan’s self-deprecating mode. “Like "Come on, look at me. Nobody that hot would even give me a second glance."

"And why not?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm about twenty-five pounds overweight, and I wear glasses. Two major strikes against me."

"Is the gay community that superficial?"

"Around here? Guys my age? Hell to the yeah. Not to mention the fact that our parents pushed me out of a helicopter right over a 100-foot ugly tree and made sure I hit every branch on the way down."

Here we go again with the self-esteem issues. Fucking Patrick really did a number on him. I wanna find that cocksucker, cut off his dick, stuff it and shove it up his ass. Chris thought vehemently. Aloud he said, "I thought we were past all this.”

"Patrick dumped me for a guy a lot skinnier and better looking than me. What does that say?"

"That he was a superficial ass-wipe and he couldn't see what a great person you are and what a great thing you two had. Forget about that dick stain. He isn't even worth using as a cum rag. You can and will do so much better."

"Wow. Don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel about him. Seriously, dude. Let it all hang out." Ethan's sarcasm generator was set on nuclear.

"All I'm saying is give yourself a break. Who knows where it will lead."

"I don't even know if he's gay, let alone interested in me."

"Well there's one way to find out."


Ethan took a quick shower then jumped into bed, not for the first time wishing he had a boyfriend sharing the bed with him along with his dog. Damn it! Why do I have to meet such hot guys who are more likely straight? I hope the next time he comes in, if he comes in, I’ll be able to keep my eyes on more than just his crotch. If his heart and personality were as good as his looks, and he was gay, I’d be all over him like flies on flypaper.

He chuckled at the use of yet another archaic expression. People would give him funny looks whenever he used one of the old phrases or idioms until he explained them. He would laugh to himself at the looks on their faces when explained it.

I think I’m in trouble. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ryan since I met him. I could never get tired of just looking in his eyes or listening to that soft voice of his. Little did Ethan know Ryan was thinking pretty much the same thing.

The next morning Ethan took a walk down the long dock and sat on the edge looking out over the small tree-surrounded lake. What the hell is happening to me? I don't even know Ryan, but I can't get him out of my head. I want him to bend me over every surface in the shop and fuck me until I can't walk straight. That's not me.

I made Joey wait almost a year before I'd let him fuck me; the same with Patrick. What is it about Ryan? I don't know how to contact him to talk with him. He said he might have something for me to restore, but there's no guarantee it'll happen. What do I do about this? I'm at a total loss. I must have whacked off three times last night thinking about him.

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