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eBook Category: Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: Thom's through with men after his last lover cheated on him, but the new boy who buys the house next door hopes he'll reconsider. Originally published in the collection, Scarred: Four Novellas. Warning: this story contains homoerotic love scenes between gay men that may offend some readers.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Scarred: Four Novellas, 2002
Fictionwise Release Date: February 2007

120 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [75 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [97 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [48 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [309 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [53 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [104 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [114 KB] , hiebook (KML) [157 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [119 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [45 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [55 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [104 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [78 KB]
Words: 17750
Reading time: 50-71 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Because the light's on next door, I can see boxes stacked up in the center of the room, headboards propped against the wall, a mattress tossed carelessly onto the floor beneath the window. Every now and then Rudy comes into view, stepping onto the mattress and then out of sight again as he starts to unpack. I wonder if this will be their bedroom. I wonder why I care.

It doesn't take me long to get the rest of the paint off the window and just as I'm about to move onto the next one, I hear Bradley's voice drift up from the other house. He's so loud. "Rudy, darling," he says, and then he laughs, that magical sound that's begun to bring a smile to my lips whenever I hear it. I've decided I quite like that laugh. "You know that's not where I want that dresser to go."

Rudy says something indistinct and then Bradley laughs again. Against my better judgment, I pull the sheer curtains in front of the window and peek out between them. Down in the room below, Bradley steps up onto the mattress, tanned legs and thick arms and the broad expanse of his back just begging to be touched. By me, I think as Rudy comes up to him, rubs his hands down the bunched muscles in Bradley's arms. I don't need to be watching this.

But I can't turn away. I remind myself of the other window, the dishes in my sink, my bed, things I can be doing, should be doing, but I can't seem to turn away from the window. Rudy leans close to Bradley, whispers something that makes him giggle, and then starts to knead his lover's arms, his shoulders, his neck. "I think he's kind of cute," Bradley says in reply.

My breath catches in my throat. They're not--God, I wish I could hear whatever it is Rudy says that makes Bradley turn around and glance at my house, up at me. They see me, I think wildly, and without thinking I cross the room and hit the switch to cut off the overhead light. My heart beats like a drum in the darkness, hard enough to bruise my ribs, they saw me. Saw me watching, and Bradley said what? I think he's kind of cute. Jesus Christ.

Go to bed now, Thom, my mind whispers even as I start towards the window again. They've got names for guys like you, watching your neighbors through the curtains. You want this kid to call the cops on your perverted ass? Just go to bed and forget all about him and his tight skin and his infectious laugh.

Only I can't, and this time I stand to one side of the curtain, out of sight. I pull the edge of the fabric away from the window just enough so I can see, and I promise myself one more look, that's it, just to see if they're still talking about me and then I'll go. I swear--

Bradley stands at the window now, hands on the sill in front of him, legs spread wide, head thrown back. Behind him, Rudy has his jeans down to his knees, his boxers open, working his dick hard with one hand. The other is in the front of Bradley's shorts, squeezing, stroking, I can feel that hand, it tugs at my own erection, rolls my own balls in the palm, fondles me. My own hand strays below my belt, rubs against the thick swelling at my crotch. I'm not seeing this, I think. I'm not watching it. I'm not.