Chasing Rusty Parker Chapter 57
Chasing Rusty Parker – Ch. 57
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2023 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Gay Erotica
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.
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Chasing Rusty Parker is the sequel to my story Good Guys Don't Date Bad Boys that you can also find here, on Nifty.
Chapter Fifty-Seven – A Different Kind Of Family
Rusty closed the door quietly, throwing one last look at Matty, who was way into the world of dreams by all signs. It was late in the evening already, which meant that his baby dude slash cat boy wouldn't have to go back to his dorm room. Things worked out well this way and much to his advantage. Not that he had any doubts about Matty telling him `yes' to everything now. That thought alone filled him with giddiness.
This wouldn't do. He had a tough task ahead of himself, so he smacked one cheek then the other in the hope that he would manage to wipe that grin of his face. It was no use. That meant that he would have to call Francine while he was still smiling like an idiot. An idiot in love, so maybe not that much of an idiot, although he would only use that word to describe the version of himself before his first `I love you' escaped his lips with Matty as the sole recipient.
He tiptoed downstairs because he didn't need an audience for the conversation he wanted to have with Francine. His besties were in their rooms, busy with studying and other things before going to bed. In the case of Maddox and Jonathan, they were probably in bed already doing the naughty, but Rusty didn't want to think too much about that. More like he didn't want to think along those lines because the Mighty Thor might nudge him in the direction of his sleeping fiancé with all sorts of naughty intentions on his mind.
Back to the task at hand. He sat gingerly on the sofa. People surely couldn't guess by looking at the guy, but Matthew Han was a beast in bed. Not that he was complaining, but it did make sitting a bit of a challenge.
Rusty took another deep breath. Hopefully, she wasn't asleep yet. He just needed to talk to her for a bit. During a very hard time in his life, she had been there in ways that his own parents hadn't. Whether she liked it or not, she was part of this whole thing. It was now high time for her to assume responsibility till the end.
Francine picked up on the second ring. "Rusty," she said in her usual aristocratic tone which might have come across as standoffish to most people. But this was her affectionate voice. The lucky ones never got to hear the frosty version. "I hope you learned your lesson."
"Of course. You're a good teacher. The best," Rusty confirmed. "Sorry to bother you so late. I have no idea if Jonathan told you anything, since it looks like he has a thing for telling you stuff that's not necessarily about him--"
"Out with it," Francine commanded in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "You must be more courageous to get what you want, Rusty."
"Oh, well, I was hoping to complain a little about Johnny boy and butter you up for what I'm about to tell you, but it looks like I'm keeping you from your beauty sleep," he said quickly. "I'm going to be meeting my future in-laws. I need every bit of help I can get."
"What do you have in mind?"
Well, he hadn't thought about it in that much detail. "Give me a cowlick?" he said and winced at his own choice.
"Really? A cowlick? How about a kick in the seat of your pants?"
Rusty gasped for show. "Mrs. Hamilton, your language is beyond the pale."
Francine chuckled softly. "Be yourself, Rusty. Don't worry about details so much. Since their son loves you, whether they do or don't is not that important. Maddox had the guts to come knocking down our door."
"I was there, remember?" Rusty said with phony pique. "I was brave, too."
"While someone else's nuts were in the fire. Sure, you were brave."
Rusty snickered. "You said `nuts'."
"Come on, Rusty, tell me why you really called. And yes, I'm moments away from starting my beauty sleep."
Rusty took one deep breath and wiped his palms on his pants. "Walk me down the aisle, Francine. I won't take `no' for an answer. You got me into this mess called love, not that I wasn't there already, and--" He stopped to catch his breath. "Say `yes', please."
"Did you sound this tortured while proposing to Matthew? No wonder he felt compelled to help you out of your misery. I'm joking, Rusty. Of course, my answer is `yes'. But are you sure? Your father--"
"Let's say he's not exactly sold on the idea. I don't think he'll attend the wedding, even. And my heart is set on you, anyway."
Silence reigned at the other end.
"Hey," he called out, "Francine, are you still there?"
He heard her clearing her throat. "Yes. I needed a moment."
"To... cry?"
"What nonsense. The only way you'll ever make me cry is by singing out of tune."
Rusty grinned as he smelled blood in the water. "I made you cry."
"Something got in my eye," she said suavely. And then, she laughed. "Keep making me proud, Rusty. And it will be my honor to walk this other son of mine down the aisle."
How long was his heart going to last if things kept going like this?
"Now who's crying?" Francine teased him from the other end. "I will have to check with Jonathan first, however. I wouldn't want him to think that his mom is putting her other kids before him."
"Sure, of course," Rusty mumbled, still overcome with emotion. "I should have asked him if he'd be okay with it. Damn, I always make such a joke out of everything that it's hard for people to take me seriously, right?"
"I believe that people who know you are very much aware of how you truly are. And Jonathan's father is already bent on being the one to hand our son over to the Kingsleys. I doubt that we would encounter any resistance on that front. Now tell me, because Jonathan told me to ask you if I really wanted to know, did you sing your heart out to win him back?"
"Oh, yes, you bet I did. I woke up the whole campus with my singing. Now my cover is busted, though. But I don't care. I have everything I need in my life right now."
"Good night, Rusty," Francine said with a low chuckle. "Feel free to call me anytime, but remember. I want results and I have standards."
"I'll keep that in mind, don't you worry. And I'll make sure to make you proud."
The eddies of warmth rippling through his entire body took some time to fade, long after his call to Jonathan's mom ended. So, Francine told him to be himself and it was a good way to build self-confidence, but he wasn't entirely convinced. At the very least, he needed new clothes.
***
Matty just couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. The collar of Rusty's shirt was so scrubbed and starched that it dug into the poor guy's neck. Rusty had brushed his usually messy hair into such an austere style that anyone getting a single look at him could tell he was uncomfortable. Because Rusty had decided to allow him one night of sleeping alone in his dorm room under the pretext that they had to be well-rested before making the road trip to see Matty's parents, he had had no chance to tell his fiancé anything about his choice in clothes.
"Rusty," he demanded once they were at a fair distance from Sunny Hill. "Stop being so stiff, for heaven's sake. My parents are totally cool, I'm telling you."
A noncommittal grunt was all he got instead of a clear reply.
"I mean," Matty continued his assault, "look at me. I'm wearing my normal clothes."
"Well, that's because you don't have to impress them. I do."
"Hey," Matty said, gently this time, "I'd rather you be yourself. They will love you as you are."
"And if they don't?" Rusty let out a short huff. He craned his neck and grimaced. He was obviously so uncomfortable and miserable that Matty wanted to undress him to his underwear on the spot only so that he would stop sighing like that.
"Well, if they don't, we can always elope," Matty said promptly. "I've been a good kid all my life. I have plenty of karma points to spend."
"You say that now, but wait until my shine wears off. Then you'll see the error of your ways."
"You don't scare me, and it's too late anyway." Matty waved the hand with the ring on it for Rusty to notice. Then, he made up his mind. "Pull over."
"We're in the middle of nowhere," Rusty pointed out.
"Which is exactly why I want you to pull over. Come on. I'm supposed to be your lord and master, or was that only last week?"
"Okay," Rusty agreed but not without showing his displeasure. He waited until there was a fork and pulled into the small side road, away from any prying eyes. "Now, what?" he asked and turned toward Matty, his eyes anxious and expectant.
"Now this," Matty replied and grabbed Rusty by the front of his scrubbed shirt. He placed his lips on the soft mouth that immediately responded to his attack by opening slightly.
That was enough for him to launch into a full-scale war against the stiff clothes and the annoyingly proper hairstyle. He ran his fingers through Rusty's hair, making a mess in the process, but distracting his nervous lover from it by kissing him deeply. Next, the shirt had to get it, so he kept his lips on Rusty's, putting his all into his ruse. Damn, those tiny pesky buttons...
The sound of something ripping made them both stop.
"Matty!" Rusty let out an appalled cry. "My shirt."
"Oh, shoot," Matty tried to summon some regret he didn't feel. "I guess you'll have to wear something else now."
"I don't have something else," Rusty began fretting, "it's not like I packed more than what was necessary for this trip!"
"We'll stop at some store on the way. And no, you won't get a second horrible shirt to replace this one. I'll choose."
"But--" Rusty started and stopped just as abruptly when Matty put one hand up. "I wanted to look my best for your parents."
Matty snorted and rolled his eyes. "This isn't your best. It's your worst. Really, Rusty, I want my parents to meet you, not some preppy version of yourself that, by the way, doesn't even exist. What can I do to put your mind at ease?"
Rusty let out a deep sigh and checked the state of his shirt. "It must be all in my head and everything, but I keep having weird dreams. You know, the kind where you find yourself naked in front of the teacher and you didn't even do your homework."
"I find it hard to believe you've never found yourself in that sort of situation in real life." Another look at his very miserable fiancé convinced him that this was no time for jokes, not at the moment. "You know what? The fact that you're willing to put yourself through so much for the sake of meeting my folks... it's really touching. So, how about," he said and caressed Rusty's chest through the ripped shirt, "I give you a blowjob to take the edge off?"
Rusty sucked in a breath and moaned. "You're so chill I want to strangle you a bit, Matty."
"You don't want a blowjob?" Matty dangled the tasty tidbit in front of his usually horny as hell better half.
Rusty groaned and tipped his head back. "I do want a blowjob. From you, and only from you."
"That goes without saying," Matty said casually as if they were talking about mundane things. Well, if by mundane people meant everyday things, blowjobs would count among them. Only this morning, waking up alone had left him with quite the wood in his shorts. Within days, he had gotten so used to waking up to Rusty's lips wrapped firmly around his cock that the change hadn't been welcome at all.
"What if someone sees us?" Rusty asked, stealing looks over his shoulder as if he was expecting an entire army of upstanding citizens to emerge out of thin air and lecture them on the importance of public decency.
"Where is my future husband and what have you done with him?" Matty asked, feigning shock. "Never in my life would I have imagined I would become the guy in charge of the naughty stuff."
Rusty gave him a lopsided grin. "Nah, I'm not going to relinquish that role for anything in the world. Which means that I'm going to be the one who gives you a blowjob."
"But I offered first," Matty countered and placed a bold hand on Rusty's crotch. "How am I going to help you take the edge off if I'm the one getting a blowjob?"
"Well, maybe we can work something out. I mean, a car is not really the place for a sixty-nine, but maybe if we bend until we become a pretzel--"
A knock on the car window on Rusty's side made them both jump.
A nice old lady was smiling at them, and Rusty quickly lowered the window. "Are you boys lost? It happens all the time. People take the wrong turn here instead of continuing up the highway. You're lucky I went out to search for Poppy. Poppy's my little dog. I live right there," she pointed somewhere farther back.
"I'm sorry, I had no idea we were on private property," Rusty said quickly.
The old lady waved. "This part is not, but Poppy and his friends might not like it if you continue down this road. You see, Poppy is a guard dog."
Matty was busy hiding his face in his t-shirt. Rusty had a harder time trying to keep a straight face with his shirt hanging open in the front. However, he seemed to be holding his own quite well, and soon, he was waving the old lady goodbye and making a turn to return the car – and themselves – back onto the highway.
He was still shaking with laughter when he heard Rusty laughing as well. It was a good sound.
"Can you imagine that nice old lady catching us in a pretzel position?" Rusty was still grinning as he tried to pretend he was serious about it all. "You're bound to get us in trouble, young man."
"Young man... Like you're eighty or something. Grandpa Rusty," Matty teased.
Rusty breathed out gustily. "Well, there'll be a time for that, but let's not skip steps. Also, just for the record, Grandpa Rusty is going to be the coolest grandpa that has ever lived. Prove me wrong."
Matty could tell his eyes were growing so big they threatened to pop out of their sockets. "Wow, you're really thinking ahead," he said after a while. "On the upside," he added quickly and grinned at Rusty, "you're no longer nervous, right?"
"Yeah, your little attempt to commit indecent exposure worked wonders," Rusty agreed. "But you still owe me a shirt. And what's wrong with preppy Rusty? Is he too much for you? Can't you take the heat, Matty?"
"Right. You know that's not true. It just pained me to watch you struggle so hard when you have no reason to fret. Like none at all. Mom and dad have been properly prepared for your making an appearance by yours truly. Do you doubt my powers of persuasion?"
"I shouldn't." Rusty kept his eyes on the road, but his lips were still twitching. "Let's just say that I'm still not over the fact that I'm getting the better end of the deal out of this. You're a steal, Matty, let's face it."
"Forget about your folks for a second, Rusty," Matty advised. "It's you I'm marrying. And you're free to think of yourself as not being that much of a catch, but sure as hell, you're my catch. And I don't practice that humane catch and release thing."
"Your parents will want to know who my parents are. I'm not going to lie."
The conversation had turned serious, but Matty was all right with that. "I wouldn't want you to lie. But my mom and dad taught me not to judge people without getting to know them first. They're the kind that practice what they preach. You might be surprised, but I'm sure they won't ask about your parents at all."
***
If this was the house where Matty had grown up, Rusty didn't wonder for a moment that his future husband had turned out the way he had. It was a wonderful two-bedroom unit tucked away behind a garden full of rose bushes, and the place looked like it had been given a lot of love. The front door opened before they had a chance to knock, and Rusty's eyes fell on a petite woman in her late forties with an amazing head of red hair. That was a bit of a surprise, but he didn't have a chance to wonder at it because their host quickly took them both by their arms. Her grip was surprisingly strong, given her pint size. From behind a pair of glasses, another version of Matty's eyes observed him with unhidden joy.
"You boys are early! You should have called at least half an hour in advance and given us a chance to get ready."
"Mom, you were born ready for the apocalypse," Matty replied, hugging her tightly.
"And this is the famous Rusty," she said, turning her full attention on him.
For a moment, he hesitated, not knowing if it was all right to hug her, too, given how they had only met two moments ago, but she took the decision out of his hands by hugging him herself.
"Come in, come in, Kevin is just applying exact science to roasting a chicken. So, don't make any sudden movements. We might end up with either an undercooked or overcooked meal, depending on the unfortunate second we choose to disturb the uncrowned chef of the neighborhood." And then, completely out of the blue, she shouted, "Kevin! The boys are here!"
He turned toward Matty, to check if his mom was joking or not. His fiancé winked at him and then leaned closer. "A couple of weirdos, I'm telling you. With all the affection in the world, of course."
Someone poked his head out from around the corner, where the open kitchen was located, as Rusty noticed. Matty's dad was almost a dead ringer for his son – a thirty years older version, the only differences being his hair being darker, and his eyes, too. Once his entire body emerged, he looked like a college professor, save for the apron he wore on which the words Kiss the Chef were written in bold lettering.
"Emma, I was in the middle of a scientific experiment. I almost got it right."
"Almost?" Matty's mom hurried toward the oven.
Kevin flashed a big smile at them, while his wife inspected the contents of the oven with a critical eye. "I lied. I turned off the heat two minutes ago."
At that, Emma turned on her heel to throw her husband a withering glare. "You should have said so."
"And miss my chance to offer you yet another occasion to glare at my imperfect cooking technique? By the way, in this family, she's the perfectionist. In other words, the low hanging fruit when it comes to teasing. Welcome to the Hans, Rusty. I hope we haven't scared you off already."
Kevin's handshake was firm and warm.
"I'm happy to be here," he replied, and he truly meant it.
"Taken," Kevin read the second word imprinted on the front of Rusty's t-shirt with a checkmark by its side, that element of his attire having been carefully chosen by Matty from a gas station store on their way there. "I believe I know where that's coming from." He grinned broadly. "I'm sure Matty was the one who picked this one out for you."
"It wasn't my first choice," Rusty admitted. "But we encountered a little wardrobe malfunction on the way here."
"Don't we all?" Kevin said and waved, using both hands. "Let's get seated before Emma starts suspecting that I'm usurping her position in the household in the most nefarious of ways."
***
Rusty had always gotten along with people. It came naturally to him, to lie, to pretend, to fake a good disposition all the time so they were pleased with him and left him alone. The people he didn't have to do that with were few, but he loved them all to pieces. On their way here, he had worried that he might have to rely on his old charm so he didn't make a bad impression on Matty's parents.
Just as Matty had told him, his worries had been all in vain. The conversation flowed naturally between them, and the food was amazing. Kevin's special brand of scientific approach to chicken roasting was spot on. He doubted he had ever tasted anything as tender, that is, of course, if he pretended for a moment that he had never had any food cooked by Jonathan. That was all right. He shouldn't compare apples to oranges, and Jonathan wasn't a fan of roast chicken anyway.
Emma and Kevin both asked him directly about how he felt about giving up basketball for opera. They weren't the kind to make idle conversation, but Rusty liked them very much for that.
"Singing was something I've been wanting to do for a long time. Ever since I can remember," he added.
"Why the basketball detour?" Kevin inquired.
"My dad liked me playing basketball," Rusty explained. "I was good at it, too. I'm sorry, that came out wrong--"
"We know how things stand from Matty. You were good, indeed. That is an amazing thing in itself. Most people tend to be good at only one thing. Well, some aren't even good at one."
Emma intervened. "We replayed that performance of yours Matty sent us hundreds of times already." Her eyes turned shrewd. "I'm afraid you're already a celebrity as far as this family is concerned. Everyone received it and had to watch it, down to the last cousin and aunt. And I checked to make sure they had. Now, I've been meaning to ask. Do you think you could sing for us?"
That was the easiest thing he could do and yet, when he got up, he felt a short flash of nervousness.
"You won't even know we're here," Matty's mom promised, as if she could guess what was on his mind.
"Let's take our drinks to the backyard. It's a beautiful evening," Kevin suggested. "And maybe Rusty would feel better performing for the mother-in-law from hell somewhere it's easy to make a run from."
"Dad," Matty complained. "Stop scaring Rusty."
"He should be prepared," his dad continued to joke. He couldn't help smiling, but there was something there.
Of course, Kevin had said it already. Matty's mom was a perfectionist. That meant that he needed to give the performance of a lifetime. After all, the quest for obtaining Matty's hand in marriage included convincing the dragon mom her son would be in good hands once he left their home.
Starting from there, it became easy. It was all down to what was worth fighting for. At least, that was what people kept saying. One thing was certain, though: this time around, Rusty knew exactly what he was fighting for.
***
Matty didn't mind being squeezed between his mom and dad, since that was one of their many ways to tell him they loved him. His eyes were on Rusty, however, and the way he widened his stance in the same way he had now noticed some opera singers do before starting to sing.
Rusty closed his eyes for a moment and his voice boomed suddenly, making both Matty's parents jump in their seats only to laugh at themselves right after.
He was a performance in himself, more than just a star. He opened his arms as if to welcome the whole audience, an imaginary audience of thousands, perhaps, while he controlled his voice with the precision of a heartbeat. Matty couldn't help but feel enthralled beyond words with the way Rusty performed. It wasn't only his voice that made it so. It was his entire being, expressing the joy of singing, of sharing such a gift with the world.
When the last notes died down, he began clapping at the same time as his mom and dad did. And then, there was applause coming from both their left and right, from their neighbors' backyards.
"Mom?" he whispered.
She smiled all-knowingly. "Let's just say that I might have let them know that if they were in luck, they might have a chance to listen to my future son-in-law's amazing voice."
Rusty shouldn't have doubted himself for a moment. His future in-laws were already proud of him. Now, he was graciously accepting the applause and words of praise being thrown his way, bowing like a true star of the stage, one who knew how to display modesty, as well as confidence in his art.
As demands for more came pouring in, just as courteously, he accepted them.
And that was how Rusty Parker, soon to become Rusty Han, kept the entire neighborhood where the Hans lived awake and happy until a little after midnight.
***
"Your parents are uber awesome," Rusty said with stars in his eyes the moment they were alone in Matty's old bedroom. "I mean, I totally dig them."
"And they dig you big time. By the way, my mom's usual MO is over the top. As you might well expect, she has already recorded your entire show. And she's going to make every last member of our extended family watch and listen to it. According to the last census, at least a couple of them are no longer hearing and seeing very well, being into their nineties and all."
"She's one hell of a supporter to have in your corner, I gotta say," Rusty continued. "And they were cool with us sleeping together here, in your room."
"Hey, we're engaged. Of course, they'd be fine with it. So, how do you like my family?"
"Do you even have to ask? They're the real deal. I hope they like me, too."
"That goes without saying. Although, I must say, you're setting quite the high bar, Rusty. My mom might start pestering me again about not beating Jonathan's GPA."
"That's not the same thing." Rusty scrunched up his nose. "Studying is hard. Singing isn't."
"For you, it isn't, obviously. You really shine, have I told you that? You'll definitely be a star."
"I hope I'm already one in your book, my darling fiancé." Rusty grabbed him and made him spin into a complicated pirouette with him.
Matty flashed a big grin at him. "Do you even have to ask?"
TBC
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