Hank and Manny laid low for the next few days after the police had visited. Hank didn't use the kitchen or the fireplace. Instead, they ate the dog food (it was delicious). Hank didn't turn on the TV for fear the electric bill would go up. Maybe in a week or two, but not now. Manny pestered him but Hank had the advantage of being able to walk across the room. To pass the time, Hank taught Manny to feed himself. Hank gave Manny a spoon and helped him guide the dog food to his mouth. He really enjoyed taking care of his multipurpose tool guy.

There were a lot of books. Hank chose "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote but it scared the crap out of both of them. Back on the shelf it went.

"'On the Road', Manny! I've been meaning to read this since I was in ninth grade."

"What's it about?"

"Guys—guys on the road. It's right there in the title. Guys on the road. Okay, strap in. this is one of the big novels of all time." Hank opened the paperback and started to read.

Part One

I first met Dean after my wife and I split up. I had just gotten over a serious illness that I won't bother to talk about—"

"They're not on the road."

"They'll be on the road! The book is called 'On The Road', Manny, they'll get on the road." Hank continued to read, but shit, the writing was really dense and nothing was happening. "Screw this," Hank closed the book. "They're never gonna get on the goddamn road." He put it back and looked through the shelves. Something fun, like 'Gone With The Wind'. These people were intellectuals. There was tons of English literature. Hank considered "Alice In Wonderland" but the amount of explaining it would take made Hank tired just looking at it.

"The Great Gatsby!' It's a classic! They assigned it to me in school, but I was smoking pot and listening to Savage Garden. So let's give it a pop." Hank opened the book.

In my younger days my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

Hank read a bit more, and looked over at Manny. "This is boring."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll boil some water, make pasta."

"Let's explore!" Manny said excitedly. "There's more rooms, Hank, let's see what's in them!"

"Okay, food can wait. I've already looked around, it's nothing much. Just bedrooms."

"I've never seen a bedroom."

"Okay." Hank helped Manny up onto his back, and they went to the other side of the main room, where there were two doors. One opened into a small bedroom. The mattress was bare, with a folded pile of blankets at one end. Hank tipped Manny so Manny could open and close the dresser drawers. There wasn't anything, just a postcard with a picture of a seagull wearing a top hat and holding a drink. "It's Always 5 O'Clock At The Beach!"

"It's always 5 o'clock?" Manny said, bringing the postcard to his face. He turned it over. "There's nothing on the other side."

"It's something people say when they want to get drunk. 'It's 5 o'clock somewhere. Time for a beer!' When you wanna drink in the morning, that's what you say. We don't drink in the morning."

"Why not?"

"We—we just don't. There's nothing in here." Hank and Manny went back out and opened the other door to find—

A huge bedroom. With a huge bed with lots of pillows. The white pillow-top mattress was also bare, and olive-colored wool blankets were folded at the foot. The windows were shaped like portholes. There were large paintings of the beach on the walls.

"Cool, huh?"

"Wow..." Manny breathed. "Wow." He paused. "Why do they have pictures of the beach? They can just look out the window."

"I don't know, people are weird." Hank helped Manny lie down on the mattress. Manny's blue eyes darted around.

"This bed is too soft," he said. "Can we go back in the other room?"

"C'mon, buddy, I wanna keep looking around." Hank crossed the room and opened a door. A deluxe bathroom, with two sinks and a big shower. Then he saw himself in the mirror, and his breath caught in his throat.

His hair was almost shoulder-length, dirty and tangled. Sunburned, his clothes ragged, he was even skinnier than he had been months ago when he ran away from home.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered, staring at himself. He reached up to touch his head and watched his arm in the mirror go up, hand futilely smoothing mirror-Hank's hair. Hank turned on the water on the right side sink, and splashed water on his face. All it did was cause tracks of dirt down his cheeks.

"Manny, I'm gonna take a shower!" he called out. Shedding his clothes, Hank turned on the shower. He soaped himself all over, watching with fascination as the dirt slid down the drain in the center. There was a bottle of shampoo. He stared at it for a long time. Shampoo. Yeah, for washing your hair. Shampoo. Conditions and softens, the bottle read. Hank dumped it on his head. It stung his eyes. He dropped the plastic bottle on the ground, and scrubbed his scalp and hair, keeping his eyes tightly closed. He remembered the stupid postcard. 5:00 somewhere. Stupid drunk seagull.

"Hank?" Manny's voice was muffled by the shower. "Hank, are you coming out?"

"Yeah! Gimme a second." Hank turned off the shower and stepped out. There were no towels. Shit. If they were back in civilization, he should have a fucking towel. Dripping, he crossed the bathroom and opened the door across the way.

It was a closet. A big closet, with clothes in it. Hank looked around. Men's clothes on one side, women's clothes on the other side. He took out a maroon shirt and dried his face with it. The guy wasn't much taller than Hank, but a lot bigger. He pulled on the shirt and went out to the bedroom.

"C'mon, we're gonna give you a shower. I wanna warn you—there's a mirror."

"So?"

"You've never seen yourself in a mirror. I just freaked when I saw myself. Remember, I think you're the best, and that's what's important, okay, buddy?"

"Okay, buddy." Manny looked at him uneasily. Hank lifted Manny off the bed and carried him into the bathroom.

"OH GOD!" Manny screamed when he saw his reflection. "OH GOD! OH MY GOD!"

"Shhh, shhh." Involuntarily Hank rocked him back and forth like a baby. "You're beautiful."

"I'm a monster, Hank! My skin's a weird color! My legs are just...just hanging there!" He started struggling to get out of Hank's arms.

"No, no, calm down, you've never seen yourself before, Manny, it's okay, it's okay. You're just pale, okay? Look, you've got nice blue eyes and nice brown hair, look how nice your face is!" Hank turned Manny's head away from the mirror, holding his chin. "You have to get used to yourself. Everybody feels weird when they look in the mirror. I'll get you in the shower, you'll feel better."

"I'm disgusting," Manny moaned. "I'm a disgusting sack of shit."

"Don't be stupid. Don't ever say that ." Hank awkwardly dragged a chair from the sink into the shower. He sat Manny in it, undressed him, and gave him a shower. Manny yelped when the shampoo ran into his eyes. Hank couldn't help it, seeing Manny naked got him hot. That was one enormous penis. But Manny was way too upset. Shit, Hank had forgotten to get a towel.

"I don't feel like a new man," Manny groused, shooting Hank a poisonous look. "Don't try to make me feel better, okay? I should have stayed dead."

"Shut up! That's bad talking! If you die again I'll kill you!"

Manny was quiet for a moment, wet hair dripping. "I don't think I can die any more. I've been alive too long."

Hank stared at Manny. His heart felt like it would explode. "You...can't die?"

"No. Love brought me back to life, and now I dunno." Manny shook his head. "I don't want to try."

Hank grabbed his beloved's head and planted a kiss on the top of it. He pulled back, ridiculously pleased. "You can't die! Sonovabitch! That's fan-fucking-tastic! We've gotta celebrate!"

Manny grinned. "Party hats!"

"Something better, trust me! Upsy-daisy!" Hank lifted Manny and carried him to the bed, like in a chick-flick. Manny pulled himself up against the pillows. He was a hairy little dude, Hank thought for the 100th time. Even though Manny had thick brown eyebrows, it was always a surprise to see all of the dark hair on Manny's chest, trailing in a thin line down the center of his body, against the pale gray-pink skin and prominent ribs.

"I'll be right back!" Hank ran into the closet, and emerged with a paisley satin man's robe. "You're gonna be Hugh Hefner!"

"Who?"

"A guy who gets all the boobs, vaginas and butts in the universe. Gimme a hand." Hank helped Manny into the robe, and tied the sash. Then he went back into the closet. He ran his hand along the women's clothes until he found what he wanted: a red dress. Hank was so skinny he had no problem pulling it over his head. It was cotton, sleeveless, with a slit up the right side. Too short, but who cared?

"TAA-DAAA!" Hank stood in the door. He wanted to strike a pin-up girl pose but was too self-conscious. So he clumsily beveled one foot, arms hanging at his sides.

Manny sat, small, leaning back against the pillows. The satin paisley robe was comically too large, which somehow made it even dearer. Hank knew he would never forget this image, that it was imprinted on his brain more than the silly postcard. Manny's mouth opened. "Sarah?"

"Yeah!" Hank crossed the room, swinging his hips and blushing. "Hi there, Manny, I've missed you," he said, his voice higher and softer. He couldn't help himself; he hopped on the bed next to Manny and lay down on his side, hand on one hip. He felt slightly embarrassed being so brazen.

"Sarah, I'm going to put my mouth on your mouth." Manny leaned over, kissing Hank, tongue lightly flicking his lips. "I love you too much, way too much," he breathed directly into Hank's mouth. Manny sure had gotten better at this. He looked at Hank, his blue eyes glistening and bottomless. Hank wanted to fall into those eyes.

"You idiot," Hank giggled. Manny's hand stroked Hank's neck, clumsy fingers touching the nape. Hank slid his tongue into Manny's mouth. The yummy, tingling, sliding shock of his tongue swiping inside his beloved's mouth. They were together, and they would never die. Hank was growing hard, the soft red cotton fabric skimming over his body. He slid his hand under the satiny robe, along Manny's chest, feeling the soft hair, the hard little nipples, the satin against the back of his hand. Because of the shower, Manny was warmer than usual, which was fucking cool.

He nuzzled Manny's wet hair, smelling the citrus tang of the shampoo. This was so weird, being in a real bedroom, on a real bed, in a house. Oddly enough, Hank was glad this was temporary. He missed the woods.

With soft cracking sounds, Manny grabbed Hank's arms and rolled him on top. Hank was startled but in a really great way. "Hey, hey, what are you doing?"

"You said I'm the guy who gets all the boobs, butts and vaginas. This is how I'm the guy."

"Uh, yeah." He rocked back on his knees on either side of Manny, feeling the slit on the right side of the skirt tear. Shit. "Lemme do this, okay?" Hank asked. Carefully, he pulled Manny's legs apart, then eased himself between Manny's legs, lying on top of his beloved. Fuck, Manny's freakishly large penis was as hard as rock. It was so good, so good with their bodies pressed together. Their bodies were usually pressed together but it was often for more practical reasons. This was different and delicious, as sweet as chocolate. Manny pulled Hank's head down and kissed him roughly. Hank yanked his head back. Whoa!

"When did you learn to do that?" Hank said.

"Gone With The Wind. Rhett Butler."

"Thank God you know how to read." Hank smiled a shy, dirty smile. "Why, Mistah Butler," he drawled in a thick Southern accent, "are you taking liberties with me?" He batted his eyelashes, trying not to laugh.

"Damn straight." Head crushed back in the pillows, Manny grinned crookedly. "Miss Sarah, I want to put my penis in your mouth." His Southern accent was wretched.

"What?" Hank sat up.

"I want to put my penis in your mouth."

"Manny—that's—you want a blow job?"

"Is that what you call me putting my penis in your mouth? A blow job? Do you blow on it?" Manny frowned.

"No, no, you suck it, I don't know why it's called a blow job."

"Have you had blow jobs, Hank?"

"Umm...yeah." Hank rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I've never given anyone a blow job." Hank had wanted to suck Manny off since they first ran away. But that—that wang was—how could he get it all into his mouth? Shame washed over him. He was being asked to give another guy a blow job. But it wasn't any guy, it was Manny, and how could Hank say no to that?

"I want to put my penis in your mouth," Manny said, lowering his voice. "Belle Watling would do it. So you do it, Sarah. You do it."

Shit, this was so damn weird and gay but they'd been weird and gay for months. Hank stared at Manny. "Okay," he breathed. "For you. Okay." He eased himself backwards, using his hands to push himself down farther on the mattress until his head was over Manny's penis. "I don't know if I can do this, Manny," Hank said, staring at Manny's dick.

"Come on, Hank, if you can't do it, Sarah can do it!"

"You're right," Hank muttered. "Sarah can do it." He lifted his voice. "Miss Sarah's gonna do it to you, right now, Mr. Butler honey." With that, Hank parted Manny's robe, lifted his wang, opened his mouth and closed his lips around it. Sarah can suck cock.

Hank almost choked, but he was going to see this through, they were taking their relationship to the next level, and that meant sucking cock! Hank moved his head up and down, choking a little, breathing through his nose, saliva running out of his mouth. It was messier than he imagined, but wow, the sounds Manny was making were so cool.
"I like that! Sucking!"

"Merm." Hank closed his long fingers around Manny's balls and squeezed gently. The whoop Manny gave was thrilled Hank down to his toes. He took Manny's dick in his left hand and reached down to his own with the other. His hand closing around his own dick was a shock of pure lust. He stroked his dick in the same rhythm as his head bobbing up and down, his hand closed around the bottom of Manny's dick so that Hank could get most of it in his mouth. This was fucking amazing, it was so hot, so carnal, pleasure shot through his body like tiny red and yellow fireworks. Boy, Sarah sure can suck cock.

"Oh God, Sarah, it feels so good, it's better than looking out a window." Manny's voice was ragged. "Coo," Hank said around Manny's dick. He meant to say cool but he couldn't. Hank moved faster, losing himself in a blur of delight, feeling the rhythm of the two parts of his body, popping Manny's dick out of his mouth and licking it with all of the saliva on it, then taking it back in. He loved Manny, he loved Manny, he loved Manny, this was the best, he loved Manny, he loved Manny, they'd never die, Jesus fucking Christ—

Manny's head rolled back and forth on the pillows, eyes staring at nothing, mouth open and groaning. Hank shivered, body tensing, he couldn't hold back, he had to come. His head jerked back, Manny's penis sliding out of his mouth as Hank climaxed, eyes shut, seeing red and yellow fireworks against the back of his eyelids.

"Sarah, what are you doing?" Manny moaned. "Don't stop!"

"I'm sorry," Hank said with a gasp. "Really, I'm so sorry, here, lemme—" He closed his mouth around his beloved's hard penis again and resumed sucking. Hank's body felt like melted caramel but he had to keep going. Manny's sounds were getting louder and it was strangely funny that Hank was Sarah sucking Manny's cock and wasn't the world just a fucking wonderful place?

"Hank, Sarah, Hank—" BLAM! Manny came in Hank's mouth, semen spurting into it. Hank jerked his head away and spat, letting the rest of the semen run over his hand. "Oh, man." He spat again and wiped his face with his free hand. Manny still stared up at nothing, a wide goofy smile on his face, so blissed out that Hank laughed. Then he sat quietly, grinning, wiping his mouth.

"Hey, buddy," Hank whispered, lowering his head to the pillow next to Manny's. "It's Hank. I did it. I did it for you."

"Yeah, you did, Hank. Yeah, you did." Manny sighed. "That was a really good blow job."

"You're so dumb." Hank giggled again.