Reunions (Part 1)

[Top: Brent on the left, Aaron on the right. Bottom: Brent’s uncles Jed and Duke.]

***

“Sure I can give you a ride…you don’t seem that happy about it though.”

“My family’s just–well, would you want to visit them, really? If they were yours and you could be here instead?”

“Why go then?”

“I can’t just not go.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I could stay the week with you, if you want. Keep you company.”

“Thanks, but that would make me look more like a fag–I’m already ‘the boy who went to college.’ They’d probably hang us up if they thought I’d brought a boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure they’d just think that we’re friends.”

“My family isn’t that…look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I asked, but you really shouldn’t stay. They’ll be angry.”

“Why?”

“It’s…just…”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“Complicated how? I mean, why go see a bunch of people you hate and who hate you for a week?”

“Because they’re all I’ve got, in a way. I mean, if college doesn’t work out, what then? Where would I go? If I don’t show up, then they’ll think that I don’t love them.”

“You don’t love them though. They don’t love you either, from what you’ve told me.”

“They love an idea of me.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’s not enough, but it’s something.”

***

Aaron’s compact sedan bounced on the gravel and into the dust, pulling up next to one of the many trucks already parked at the Taylor Men’s Family Reunion. You could tell from the rust, the missing bumpers and the confederate flag stickers that any vehicles in good condition was a sign that you were too weak to keep an engine running past three hundred thousand miles.

Brent Taylor, in the passenger seat, was five foot four and weighed in at one fifty. He was the first son in his family to go to college, he had done his best to rid himself of the Appalachian accent of his youth, he was not very smart but was smart enough to know that if he didn’t get a degree he’d be living with his family for the rest of his life. His roommate at college was Aaron Dansen, the six foot three, two hundred and forty pound linebacker of the football team. He was closeted, he’d already been featured as a rising star of football in several small magazines and he was only a freshman, and he knew several professional scouts by first name. They both got along surprisingly well during their first year, even though Aaron had beaten up bigger kids for their lunch money in high school, and Brent was suspicious of anyone Aaron’s size, and their friendship was the strongest bond either of them had made that year. Brent had already blown through relationships with two girls he met and fucked when he was too drunk to pick better, and Aaron had been secretly sucking off the assistant football coach since after the first practice, and would occasionally fuck the only other closeted player on the team, who happened to be a slightly bigger bottom than he was. Brent didn’t know Aaron was gay, but he wouldn’t have cared if he had known. Being thought a fag by his family made him more sympathetic than most.

Two men were by the vehicles in the evening light, and they approached the unfamiliar vehicle. Brent climbed out, and rounded on the trunk of the car ready to get his bag out and get away before they spoke to him. The lid didn’t pop fast enough, and he was forced to greet them. “Hey Uncle Jed, Uncle Duke.”

“Hey faggot,” Jed said. Brent smelled at least three kinds of beer and bargain whisky, not a good sign, “Thought you’d skip this year for sure, after getting into faggot college. What classes are you taking? Prissy 101? Intro to cocksucking?”

Duke looked embarrassed for his step-brother, but not embarrassed enough for them both to tell Jed to shut up.

Uncomfortable, Aaron tried to redirect their attention, “Hi, I’m Aaron.”

“You the faggot’s boyfriend?”

“Roommate.”

“They still call it that? Though you faggots were supposed to be liberated now? Gettin’ up in everyone’s faces everywhere,” Jed strutted over, but found he was four inches too short to pull of menacing, and had to settle for belligerent. “Still, if you like stickin’ your cock up my nephew’s butt, at least he’s being useful for someone.”

“Come on,” Brent said grabbing his duffel bag, “He’ll be nicer when he sobers up next week.” Jed heckled them some more as they grabbed their bags and walked to the barn. The kids usually slept in the loft, and it was much more private than the pasture where everyone else pitched their tents for the week. He climbed the ladder and found two if his cousins there already, Jamie and Will, their faces red, out of breath and pulling up their pants. They all stood in uneasy silence for a moment as Aaron hefted himself up the ladder after him, and looked at what they’d stumbled on.

“Wanna see if we can shoot a hare?” Will said, “Dad bought me a .22 for Christmas.”

“S…Sure…”

They darted past the older boys and out of the barn, leaving Will’s gun behind, darting between half-erected tents in the pasture and into the woods. Aaron was hard, Brent was oblivious. He dropped his bag next to a cot and told Aaron to claim one while he had a chance. The smell of three kinds of charred meat on the wind was making them both hungry, but only Aaron admitted it.

“If you want dinner, I’d head down if I were you, before Jed tells everyone you’re my top.”

“He’s a charmer,” Aaron said, wondering whether the redneck’s gut was furred or smooth. He hoped for fur. “Are you coming, or should I bring you something back?”

“I’m gonna sleep while everyone’s out–the kids stay up all night usually. I’ll pick some of the scraps once everyone’s more drunk.”

Aaron shrugged and headed back down to the barn floor. He could see Jed’s fat ass through a broken window, and he crouched down, jacking quietly, thinking about that gut a bit more, about those two cousins, about a way of life he’d never had in suburban Atlanta, always a future sports star, always destined for the top, always watched, always warned, always desperate for someone to fuck and love and family, a muddled tumor on the wall of his heart.

Aaron licked his lips, hungry. Jed would tell Duke that he was going to teach that faggot nephew of his a lesson. Jed would storm over here into the barn, and he’d find Aaron there, dick out, hard, shaking slightly in the dry straw, licking his lips. Jed would figure that one faggot cunt is as good as any other, but once he had his thick, uncut cock buried in Aaron’s hole, fuck, he’d realize that ass is better than any cunt he’s ever been in. He’d be confused first, after cumming quick, but he would keep coming back all week, first forcefully, but Aaron would break him down, Jed would love his ass, and then he’d love him, and then Aaron wouldn’t have to go back to college, to that life, he could stay here with Daddy Jed, a hot redneck cub, a drunkard, smoking cigars, cock plugged with his daddy’s friends’ cocks all day long, and–

With a groan, muffled as best as he could, he shot his load against the wooden wall of the barn, eyes closed. He didn’t need to see Jed anymore–his idea of Jed was more important to him now anyway. Panting, waiting for the throbbing shots to subside, he zipped his fly back up, feeling the last few dribbles of cum turn cold in his briefs. He wiped the cum smooth on the side of wall, until it turned tacky, and then he slipped out of the barn towards the smell of meat, and the sounds of laughter and family.

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