The Rogue and the Runaway 8
The Rogue and the Runaway
Copyright© 2014 – Nicholas Hall
Chapter Eight
The Commitment
"Come live with me, and be my love;
And we will all the pleasures prove that
Valleys, groves, hills and fields, woods
Or steepy mountains yield."
(The Passionate Shepherd to His Love)
(Christopher Marlowe)
I paced the floor at home anxiously waiting in the failing afternoon light for Seth to return home. He was in the process of raising his box traps and had trailered the big flat boat up river to a boat landing closer to where he'd been fishing them. It saved him time since he spent less time on the river motoring to them than he would've if he'd left by boat from home. Dinner was in the oven, but it would keep until he arrived. I didn't know if I could, however!
Doubts and fears clouded my thinking, causing me great anxiety and fear. Would he still want me when he learned of my past and how desperate certain people might be seeking me? Would he still love someone who took so long to stand up to a bullying father and a domineering mother and finally leave? More important than anything else; would it keep him safe from their destructive tactics and actions if I just left? I just couldn't live without him, I concluded, and that posed another problem. What would I do with my life without him? I was so much in love with him; my body was used to him, my mind generally in sync with his, and my heart was his possession and passion. How could I exist separated from him?
The truck and the trailer attached behind it, rattled over the gravel and bounced in the small ruts and potholes as it came down the lane to the house, signaling his return. I hastened to the porch and when he stopped, I raced out to meet him and, ostensibly, help him unload. The reality of it was my actions were but to relieve my aching heart. I leaped into his open arms as soon as he crawled out of the truck, surprising him, but pleasing him as well!
"Miss me that much?" he asked, pressing his lips against mine and holding me close to his body.
I could do nothing but nod as tears washed my face.
"Hey; there's nothing to be sad about, Davie," he crooned softly, "I'll always return- I won't leave you, no matter what!"
Well, that's what I was afraid of, but I didn't dare say it yet!
We unloaded the boat and truck, stacking the box traps outside the shed, and Seth backed the trailered boat down the ramp and into the water. He secured it to our dock, put his arm around me and we walked up to the house. While he was showering, I prepared our before dinner cocktails and carried them to the porch. Seth joined me on the couch and I cuddled up to him, reveling in his warmth and strength. He smelled so clean, so fresh; so much like the man my heart continuously ached for and now sat next to me.
Seth and I said little while sipping our drinks and enjoying the late summer sunset, but his actions, the way he held me, kissed me lightly on my head, face, or neck and the head of his penis poking out from one of the legs of his shorts, spoke volumes concerning how he felt about me.
After dinner, when the table was cleared and dishes put in the dishwasher, we retired to the living room and talked about his day on the river. The catch was good, the price right when he sold it, and he was pleased to get the traps out of the river. Seth was concerned, although there was a good market for wild caught catfish, farm-raised fish were slowly taking more and more of the market share.
"Someday," he said thoughtfully and sadly, "commercial fishermen, such as me, might be a rarity and people will only have farm-raised fish."
I know he'd continue to fish as long as there was a market and he could derive a profit from his ventures, since he loved it so. I just couldn't see Seth as a full-time farmer or working indoors at some factory. He was confident and so was I, something would work out. As for my predicament, I wasn't all that positive.
I remained cuddled up against him on the couch and just when I was ready to take on the challenge of delivering my "confession," Seth asked,
"Davie, will you marry me? It's legal in Iowa."
Speechless, stunned by his proposal, I sat momentarily until I realized the consequences of me marrying him. Marriage would mean a married license and licensing left a trail of records and records would lead people to me and him. As much as I wanted to blurt out "Yes," I knew it would be an impossibility with all of the baggage I carried.
Overcome with joy, but burdened with deep sadness, I responded by burying my face in his neck and began sobbing my heart-felt anguish. Taken aback by my action, Seth just folded me into his arms, leaned back resting me on his chest and frame, and let me cry. He opted to say nothing, but just held me tightly to his chest, feeling every chest-heaving sob emitting from my small frame. Seth knew me well enough to understand when I was able, I'd answer him.
Finally, lifting my head, face with tears, eyes red from spilling them, I choked out, "As much as I'd like to, I don't think I can; besides, once you hear why, you'll more than likely want me to leave."
I thought I felt him start a bit, but he didn't raise an objection or act shocked or disappointed (although I knew better); all he said was, "Want to tell me about it, Davie?"
God yes, I wanted to tell him; I've wanted to tell him ever since we first made love. I've wanted to tell him every day I woke with him by my side or at night when we lay together in bed after enjoying each other to orgasm, but my courage always failed me. Hesitantly, at first, then gaining confidence, held in my lover's strong arms, I began telling my story; how I was raised, who my father was, the domineering mother who ordered my life around, never accepting who or what I was.
I told him how the marriage arrangement was the last straw, although I'd been contemplating leaving for some time prior to that, and the hostile departure. I also spoke of my reluctance to use my cellphone or my laptop since they'd leave a footprint and I could be located. The same was true of fishing licenses, truck license, driver's license, and a marriage license. I finished with a sob and a hiccup; Seth smoothed my hair back from my face with his hand, raised my chin and kissed me deeply and passionately.
"As my spouse," he said, "there will be no danger of someone taking you away from me or bothering you ever again; I promise! Besides, what should they care where you are or who you're with? It's not as if they really wanted you around anyway."
Sighing, I replied, "You may be right, but next year's an election year and dear old Daddy will be running for re-election. His opponents would just love to find out he has a gay son, married to a gorgeous man in another state. His conservative base would cast him out in a minute and withdraw financial support unless he can find some way to gloss it over and make it look as though I'm demented and just needs to be "cured" and "saved." That'll be a cold day in hell! Besides, same sex marriage is not even recognized in that state, regardless of the demise of DOMA."
"That's his problem," snorted Seth, disgusted with politics and from the parents of mine he didn't know. As liberal as Seth was, he'd be about as popular as a turd in the punch bowl around that crowd!
"Yeah," I agreed, "but he must've discovered by now someone accessed his computer at home, before someone left, and downloaded his campaign donor list, the amount given, and favors promised on a thumb drive someone now has secreted away in his suitcase."
Seth thought a moment, pondering the gravity of what I'd revealed and the impact on our lives, now and in the future. "Maybe," he said slowly, "we can turn that to our advantage and use it to bargain with. It might be worth more than you'd think to have that thumb drive back; more than caring what the hell his son is or who he married."
Seth hugged me even tighter and asked again, "So, Davie- yes or no? You and I both know we're not complete without the other and I'm damned certain I'm not about to give you up."
He's right, of course; for the first time in my life I've felt loved and wanted and needed. I was as much a part of him as he was of me. Seth Burridge was the first thing in the morning I wanted to lay my eyes on and the last thing at night. I agreed to become David Andrew Fleming-Burridge, grinning happily and wiggling my small frame all over his.
"Let's go to bed," he announced, "to celebrate."
I snuffled my approval and followed him to our bedroom. Seth was my knight in shining armor; my Sir Lancelot; and my slayer of dragons! He could bring me peace, security, and protect me from the evils of the world. I cozied up to him, wiggling my little butt into his crotch, and as he sheathed his mighty sword into my scabbard, I knew I was his to love and protect; he'd have it no other way!
Seth was still asleep in the morning when I woke up, but one stiff part of him hadn't rested most of the night. Twice I awakened, feeling him gently prod and poke until his swollen penile head found my backdoor and entered. Each time he climaxed it felt as though he was flooding my lower bowel with his seed as he shuddered, jabbing forward in short, ass-clenching, balls deep thrusts, grunting his pleasure and love as he ejaculated. This morning was no different than others I'd experienced with him; my ass was full of cock, his soft hairy bush pushed up against my butt cheeks, my own cock, stiff and twitching, was being slowly and gently masturbated by him as he made love to me. God, I did love it so!
But, this morning was different! This morning I felt different; free of the terrors of the night and day haunting me throughout my previous life without Seth; trying to hide who I was from the public for the sake of my father's career and my mother's ego. Today, Seth and I were going to the County Courthouse to get our marriage licenses and, if all went well, be married before we left Davenport. If my parents discovered it, so what! As Seth so adroitly put it, "Fuck'em Bucky!" and I agreed.
We didn't have breakfast at home, instead dined in a nice restaurant overlooking the Mississippi River in Davenport. Afterwards we drove down to the levee, up the Brady Street Hill, swung by Fejuary Park, and finally ended up at the courthouse. In the process of obtaining our license, the clerk, when he asked my age, raised his eyebrows in doubt, so I produced my birth certificate. That solved that problem.
After our license was issued, the clerk asked if we wished to be married then and there; we both smiled and said, "Yes!" Ten minutes later, we were married – as we intended. I was just giggly happy and couldn't hug and kiss Seth enough. I know now how straight couples feel when they exchange vows and pledge themselves to each other. I can't imagine why anyone would want to deny that experience to others who are in love. Seth was just as jubilant, except he waited until we were standing out front on the courthouse steps and whooped his joy aloud to the world before lifting me up in his arms and kissing me passionately.
A voice off to our side said, "Seth, I take it something or someone in your life has made you happy and if I'm not mistaken, it's that young man in your arms."
Seth released me and when we turned toward the sound of the voice, I saw, standing there, a very fit, uniformed County Sheriff's Deputy, grinning at us.
"You bet, Carl," Seth responded. "We just got married! Carl, this is my spouse, David Andrew Fleming-Burridge or Davie for short – no pun intended." Turning to me, "Davie, may I introduce Deputy Sheriff Carl Hayes, an old family friend."
Deputy Hayes shook hands and offered his congratulations. When Seth asked if he was here for court, Carl responded, "No; actually I'm just coming off duty and I'm meeting my wife and her mother here. Debbie's Mom just moved in with us and she needs to get a state photo ID and a few other things taken care of."
"That just about fills your house, doesn't it?" Seth quipped.
Carl just smiled, "Yeah, but with our gang, Debbie's Mom will be a big help. It'll save us day care costs when Debbie works; although the older ones are pretty good about taking care of the little ones. Once in a while we're able to parcel them out to Deb's brother or sister for the day, but that's quite a burden on them. They have families of their own."
"How many do you have," I asked hesitantly, knowing full well it was none of my business.
Carl sighed almost wearily, "Eight and all boys. We have to watch the dollars fairly closely, but between my job with the county and hers as an emergency room nurse at the hospital, we make it fine. Thank God for health insurance benefits!"
Changing the subject, he quickly said, "Oh, by the way, Seth; thanks a bunch for the ice chest full of fish. The kids really like a fish fry."
Something must have caught his attention because he looked over my shoulder, grinned, and announced, "Here comes Deb and her mom now."
I turned and looked and saw two African-American women, one older and the other younger, walking briskly up the steps toward us.
They stopped and I shouted, "Cook!"
To be continued:
***
Thank you for reading Chapter Eight- The Rogue and the Runaway –"The Commitment" -"Come live with me, and be my love; And we will all the pleasures prove that Valleys, groves, hills and fields, woods Or steepy mountains yield."-(The Passionate Shepherd to His Love)-(Christopher Marlowe).
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Nick Hall
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