4
" we’ll talk about another. Are we okay?” “I’m not old enough for this!” Dev said, his voice sharp. “I’m not old enough to end up here. I’m not old enough to test for AIDS, I’m not, I’m not—” “The hell you’re not!” Joe hissed, because the boy’s voice was rising and breaking. “You’re old enough to have sex, you’re old enough to think about this. Yeah, I know—you used to be able to fuck and all you had to worry about was crabs or knocking a girl up. We can’t do that anymore, and we can’t go back. If you can’t look yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’m gonna get laid tonight, and I need some fucking condoms’, you’re not old enough to do it. But once you start putting your peter some place besides your pants, you’ve got to cowboy up, do you hear me? "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
6
" Joe and Casey locked eyes one more time, and Joe was half-defiant—You wanted this!—and half-pleading—Save me! Casey’s beseeching look back told Joe all he needed to know. “Why sure, Mrs. Cahill. Whatever I can do to, uhm, deepen my commitment, right?” He turned and smiled at her, knowing that he had a nice one, with well-cared-for teeth and generous lips under his mustache and soul patch. She was so close he could smell her cosmetics. “For one thing, you could call me Sandy.” Joe licked his lips. “Well, Sandy,how ’bout we go into the other room and talk while Casey goes and does his homework.” He looked up at Casey and rolled his eyes, while Casey mouthed “Thank you!” with almost desperate gratitude. Sure, the little bastard would thank him now! Where was he going to be when Joe had to ’fess up to Sharon, whom he had almost convinced to stay the night? But it didn’t matter. He had a condom in his pocket, and Mrs. “Call me Sandy!” the social worker was rubbing his thighs, and he had a job to do. Joe had to go take one for the team. "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
7
" My dad started shouting,” he said, hearing the sharpness, the anger, in the background all over again. “He told her to ask me if I was still a fag.” Casey swallowed and looked at Joe helplessly. “I mean, I turned down a date with Dev to make this phone call, right? He’s… he’s getting damned good at the hand job… thought we might progress from there… and she’s asking me if I’m still ‘one of them’ and I’m thinking, ‘One of what? A boy? A high school student? What the hell am I one of?’ and I say, ‘I still like boys, Mom,’ and suddenly Dad’s got the phone and he’s shouting at me that I didn’t get to come home, ever, if I was still a sissy little— "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
8
" But not now. Now it was gentle, and the sun was kissing him, like Joe… like Joe…. Joe swallowed. His chest swelled in that faintly familiar breath-stopping, overwhelming way, and he made a faint sound, a gasp really, as he remembered the last time he’d felt that, and knew with total assurance what it was. It was when Jeannie had held his hand in church, when he was six and love was so simple, and so uncomplicated, and God was the reason you loved until you cried. For the first time in twenty-seven years, Joe felt the existence of God. He was in Casey’s smile, his eyes, the way he looked at his lover, the way he greeted the dogs. God was there, in the sunshine brushing Casey’s hair, and warming his skin, and Joe…. Joe wanted to touch him. "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
9
" The moment started moving, thick and painful, sweet like honey, and Casey closed the door to his car and walked around it, spotting Joe in the window. For a moment he waved and smiled, as natural as the two of them had been over the past six years, and then he stopped. He looked directly at Joe, his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what was different, what was wrong, and Joe was simply caught in the moment, a fly caught in honey, and Casey sighted him and looked him in the eyes… And knew him. Joe flushed, feeling young and vulnerable, and the smile that played at the corners of Casey’s mouth was… was not saintly in the least. His eyes were narrow, and one corner of his mouth was higher than the other; his easy slouch straightened up, and he moved sinuously, arrogantly, like one of the cats who knew that rat in the chicken feed was his for the taking. Joe just sat there, still caught, not sure what to do with this sight of Casey as adult, and beautiful, making his blood sing under his skin, making him shiver, making him ache, just by smiling in the sun. "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
10
" For a moment, Joe caved. For a moment, his lips touched Casey’s, and he tasted. Casey’s mouth opened under his eagerly, and Casey groaned, pulling Joe close and closer, and Joe plundered him. Oh God… the taste of his mouth, the feel of his jaw under Joe’s hands, the feeling of his hard, tight body, lithe and pliant against Joe’s heavier mass… it was heaven. It was perfect. Joe’s aching erection was suddenly grinding up against Casey’s groin, and Casey was hard and thrusting back. And that was when Joe grew truly awake. He didn’t kick Casey out of bed this time; this time, he scrambled back himself, panting for breath. “No!” he said, feeling like the skin had peeled from his lips when he’d torn their mouths apart. “Why no?” Casey demanded, sitting up in bed. He was wearing soft cotton shorts with boxers underneath, oh thank heavens, because the thought of him rubbing against Joe naked… Might make Joe come without touching himself, for one. “Because… oh God. Because—” “You wanted it!” Casey accused, not giving an inch, and Joe had to concede. “Of course I wanted it!” Oh God, so badly. “You’re beautiful, Casey—your body is tight and perfect. Do you think I wouldn’t want you?” “Then why not? Dammit, for years, I was too young, but I’m not too young now, am I? You wanted me, and you wanted me bad. Tell me you want Lynnie that way! Tell me you groan and beg and tell her what you want and what you don’t. I live in this house, Joe, and I’ve heard your noises at night. God! I’ve jacked off to them for the last three years, and nothing I’ve heard, nothing, sounds like what you just begged from me right now! "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
11
" Make me hope,” Casey begged. “I can wait—I’m not sixteen anymore—but make me hope.” Joe closed his eyes, feeling totally vulnerable, but there had never, ever been a time when he could refuse to make Casey happy. He didn’t kiss by halves. He seized Casey’s small face in his big hands and shoved his fingers through that straight sandy-blond hair, and liked the texture so much he did it again. Casey’s narrow, streetwise eyes grew wide and shiny and his flat mouth puffed up because his teeth worried it in anticipation. Then Joe framed his face, holding him just so, tilted his head, and lowered his mouth with force and decision. Casey groaned and opened his mouth at the first touch of lips, and Joe took command. He liked kissing that was hard, with lots of tongue, and he started by tasting the inside of Casey’s mouth and forcing his tongue to engage. Casey got the hang of it in a moment and brought his own hand up to the nape of Joe’s neck, digging his fingers into Joe’s neat braid and hanging on for dear life. Ahhh… kissing Casey this way was glorious. He kissed back hard, rapacious, demanding more and more and harder. "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
13
" That was… oh, God, Joe. That was… I honestly didn’t know what the fuss was all about. God. We can do that again, right? Please tell me we can do that again!” Joe’s lips curved up into a slow smile. “Give me fifteen minutes and a washcloth and we can probably do it again tonight. Good enough for you?” Casey smiled back, unbelievably sexy in the dark of the room. “Yeah, old man—I’ll be impressed as hell if that’s all it takes. But I wouldn’t object.” Joe pushed Casey’s sweaty hair from his eyes. “I love you, kid. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to make you happy.” Casey’s grin turned serious. “I love you too, Joe. You know that, right?” “I do,” Joe said softly. “I do. And I believe it with everything, or we wouldn’t be here.” The grin returned, but it was luminous and brighter this time. “Good. "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
14
" She’s happy for me because she knows I love you. If that love’s changed, well, she knows me. She knows it’s still love.” “But what does ‘I know’ mean?” Joe sighed. “Are you really going to make me state the obvious?” His brown eyes were mild, and accepting, and sad. Casey felt his mouth wobble, which went with the chin quiver, which went with the fact that all of his muscles seemed to be wrapped around his throat. “Say it,” he whispered. “I want to hear you say it so it’s not between us ever again.” Of course it wasn’t that easy. But for the moment, he’d pretend.
“Fine,” Joe said, resting his face on his knees. His hair fell behind him, and not for the first time since Casey had seen this big, burly biker on a foothill back road, Casey saw past the mustache and the soul patch, saw beyond the hair, and saw a relatively young man, probably as vulnerable in his gentleness as Casey had been in his youth. “It means that you don’t have a functioning uterus, so we’re probably not going to have children.” Yeah. This was not going away, whether they talked it to death right now or not. Casey suddenly felt that loss almost as keenly as Joe. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes burning with real, sudden, unanticipated pain. “That you fell in love with me? That you made it stick until I loved you back the same way? Don’t be. "
― Amy Lane , Sidecar
