Fae Sutherland & Marguerite Labbe Fortunate Son (pdf)(1)

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…Ricky’s eyes widened as he realized Charlie wasn’t

carrying his guitar. Charlie took it everywhere with him. The
only thing left was the handmade, multicolored strap over his
shoulder. “What happened?” Ricky jumped to his feet,
searching the milling crowd for some sign of it.

Charlie shrugged and took Ricky’s hand again. “Taking it

on a Pentagon raid was a bad idea. It didn’t survive the tumble
down the stairs.” He smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll save up for
another one, and you can enjoy your reprieve in the meantime.
Or we can dip into the ’shrooms and pot again tonight and I’m
sure you’ll hear music.”

Ricky felt bad—Charlie loved that stupid guitar. There was

nothing he could do, though, so he let Charlie pull him back
down beside him. He cast a sidelong glance at his lover and
smiled, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Your poetry isn’t bad. I love your poetry.” He leaned in

and brushed a kiss across Charlie’s cheek. “I love that you
write poetry about me. Nobody ever wrote me songs or odes
before. It’s sweet.” And if they sometimes didn’t make sense,
well, that was what getting high was for. Charlie’s poetry was
brilliant when they were high.

Charlie smiled and laid his head on Ricky’s shoulder. It

was a soft, sweet, subconscious gesture. Ricky brushed a lock
of dark hair back from Charlie’s cheek and exhaled, looking
around at the now-dwindling protest. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Charlie lifted his head, and Ricky knew he understood

what Ricky meant. Maybe tomorrow they’d be heard. Maybe
tomorrow they’d make a difference. Maybe the war would end
and no one else’s brother wouldn’t come home.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow…”

LSO

UTHERLAND

& M

ARGUERITE

ABBE

629 Miles To Love

The Mask He Wears

FORTUNATE SON

FAE SUTHERLAND &

MARGUERITE LABBE

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

ORTUNATE

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of

the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

No portion of this book may be transmitted or

reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission

in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief

excerpts used for the purposes of review.

ISBN 978-1-60272-506-5

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For everyone who ever told me “You can’t.” Yes, I can.

—Fae Sutherland

To my dad George, who served two tours and lost

friends in Vietnam. Thank you for everything you’ve given me.

—Marguerite Labbe

FORTUNATE SON

CHAPTER 1

October 20, 1967

“Do you think they’ll hear us this time?”
Ricky Anderson smiled and turned onto his side, drawing a

crocheted blanket over himself and the young man beside him.
He nodded, slipping one arm around Charlie’s waist as they
lay facing each other. The backseat of the bus was cramped,
but Ricky hardly noticed. He had Charlie in his arms after all.

“Yeah. I do. Your idealism is contagious.” Ricky didn’t

know if their protest would make a change, but it was better
than not trying. They had to do something.

Charlie laughed, and Ricky’s stomach tightened. Charlie

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was beautiful when he laughed. Ricky twisted, reaching down
behind him to grab a small plastic baggie off his duffle bag,
grinning as he settled back down beside his best friend and
lover.

“Why, Ricky, what would your momma say if she saw you

with those?”

Ricky chuckled, plucking out a small, dried mushroom

from the bag and popping it in his mouth. “My momma ain’t
ever gonna find out.”

Charlie snickered and took the bag from Ricky’s hand,

helping himself.

Ricky nuzzled Charlie’s neck, warmth and slight dizziness

washing over him as the drugs began to work, on top of the
ones already there. Namely, the pot that hung in a haze of
smoke. He’d never realized how clear everything was when
you were high. The world made sense, colors were more vivid
and everything felt so much more.

He lifted his head and grinned at Charlie through the

shadows of the dark bus. Every so often, a sliver of light
flashed across his lover’s face through the windows as
streetlamps whizzed by in a flare of color. “Your face is so
strange…have you ever noticed how strange your face is?” He
traced his fingers over the planes and contours, tweaking one
oddly bent ear. “Your ears are all messed up.”

Charlie batted his hand away with a chuckle. Ricky

laughed in return, and when Charlie shifted sinuously against
him, the laugh died, replaced by desire. Ricky rolled his hips
and captured one of Charlie’s slim thighs between his own.

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“Let’s fuck.”

“You’re crazy,” Charlie retorted, even as he shifted again

and pressed his thigh harder against Ricky’s stirring cock. “No
amount of pot haze is going to hide that.” He kissed Ricky’s
throat, soft lips teasing, his goatee and hair scratching in a
delicious combination. “Let’s make out and touch.”

Charlie’s hand slid underneath Ricky’s combat vest and T-

shirt to splay his long fingers on bare skin. Ricky groaned, the
sensual touch sparking off even more colors, which hung
jewel-like in the air between them. Making love with Charlie
was magic.

Ricky shifted against his lover, hand slipping down to curl

at his hip and loving the feel of the sharp indent. Ricky loved
stretching Charlie out under him, all long legs, slim arms and
lithe waist. Charlie had taught him that word, lithe, when he
had tutored him on his English essays the day they’d met.
Ricky liked that word. It suited the way Charlie’s waist curved
and moved, flat and sleek.

Charlie’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging Ricky’s head

down for a kiss, their mouths fumbling. He tasted nutty from
the ’shrooms, sweet from the pot, and that underlying bit that
was Charlie, all spice and sex. Ricky smiled against Charlie’s
lips as his hands searched for the spots that made his lover
moan. He loved the sound of Charlie’s moans. They should be
put to music.

Somewhere in the background, Ricky heard another one of

their fellow protestors start singing and it didn’t take long for
others to pipe in. Still there were those who, like them, had

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much more interesting activities in mind.

Charlie giggled as Ricky’s fingers tickled over his ribs, but

the soft laughter ceased when Ricky found his nipple, rolling it
into a hard bud. Charlie groaned, shifting against Ricky’s
thigh. “Yeah, like that.”

Ricky loved the way Charlie’s voice hitched. It told Ricky

louder than words that he was driving his baby crazy with
pleasure. And he hadn’t even gotten started yet. He knew
Charlie was right; still he couldn’t help wanting to turn his
lover away from him and push those snug jeans down to take
him.

Then Charlie moved against him with an impatient sound

in his throat, and Ricky decided this was pretty damn good. He
smiled and gave Charlie’s nipple another pinch, harder this
time, and Charlie twisted against him with a shaky moan.

“Kiss me, Charlie,” Ricky murmured, and his beautiful

Charlie didn’t hesitate. Slender arms twined around Ricky’s
neck and he had a vague impression of sexy, promising golden
eyes in a flash of streetlight as Charlie drew him in and
consumed his soul with those lush lips.

They rubbed against each other, heat making their skin

tingle and mist with sweat despite the chill of the fall night
outside. Inside their cocoon, on their seat of the bus, it was
sultry and warm.

No one had ever kissed Ricky like Charlie did.

Consuming, needy and demanding, it never failed to steal
Ricky’s breath and tighten the already iron grip Charlie had on
him. Ricky’s instinct had him wanting to roll Charlie beneath

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him and seek out the snug heat he’d come to crave, but instead
he slid one hand down the back of Charlie’s jeans and palmed
his soft, small ass. They might be the same height, but Charlie
was far slimmer, skinny almost were it not for the bit of lean
muscle that saved him from that description.

Ricky tugged Charlie’s headband off and ran his hand

through the long silken tangle of hair. He could wrap himself
up in Charlie’s hair. It was dark, nearly black, with burnished
highlights from the sun. Ricky liked the way it looked spread
out on the sheets of his tiny bed back in his dorm in Boston.

His blood singing, Ricky’s fingers tightened on Charlie’s

ass, rocking against him with the sway of the bus and rhythm
of the song of the road. “We can do it. Just turn around, baby.
We can be quiet.”

“Since when?” Charlie laughed, worming his hand into

Ricky’s jeans. He gave Ricky’s cock a light squeeze that had
him seeing new hot flashes of color. “Besides, I like teasing
you, farm boy. Your eyes go hot…makes me weak inside.”

Charlie’s fingers stroked, dancing over his cock, slipping

back toward his entrance, then over his balls. “You inspire me,
Ricky. You’re my muse, I swear it.”

Ricky chuckled, undoing Charlie’s jeans and tugging the

blanket higher when it threatened to slip. “Just don’t start
spouting poetry right now or I will be fucking you.”

He slid Charlie’s jeans down around his thighs as his lover

wiggled, cursing under his breath when he kicked something
and his guitar gave a mournful twang. There was no room in
the back of the bus, not with Charlie’s insistence on bringing

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his guitar. They also had backpacks with snacks and other
necessities for the long journey to DC.

Ricky rubbed his hand over the silken curve of Charlie’s

ass and gripped his lean hip. “Turn around, baby. We’re not
the only ones misbehaving. Be naughty with me.” He nipped
Charlie’s earlobe, smiling as his lover gasped. Then Charlie
sank one of his fingers into him, and Ricky gasped in return.
The sneaky devil.

Ricky retaliated with a finger thrust deep inside Charlie

and had to cover Charlie’s mouth with his own to muffle the
sharp cry that spilled from him. Maybe fucking wasn’t such a
good idea. Ricky wasn’t an exhibitionist, and logic seeped
through the pot haze and the whirl of the ’shrooms. He slid his
tongue into Charlie’s mouth and groaned when his lover
latched onto it and sucked hard.

They couldn’t stay still, both of them, wriggling and

rocking against each other. Hands fumbled and squirmed, their
bodies rubbing in the tight space. Ricky shifted his finger
inside Charlie, gasping into his mouth when his lover did the
same in return, pleasure rocketing like a sizzle of flame along
Ricky’s nerves.

Ricky broke the kiss, gasping, and met Charlie’s eyes.

They were burning it seemed, a vivid golden-brown, rimmed
by dark fluttering lashes. Paired with the kiss-pink lips and
flushed naked skin, Ricky hadn’t ever seen anything more
beautiful. “You’re poetry. Not words, though, colors and
textures and smells.”

Charlie gave him a beaming smile. “I’m rubbing off on

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you.”

Ricky laughed, nibbling those petal-pink lips. “Oh, yes,

you are. Rub some more.”

Charlie slid his tongue along Ricky’s throat, tracing it up

over his jaw. Ricky pictured laying him out on the hay in his
father’s barn, the sun shining off chaff in the air, or even
better, on the sand in California. He’d never been on the west
coast before. He bet Charlie had. His lover had been places,
done things Ricky had only dreamed of. He was about to ask if
they could go to California someday when Charlie slid
Ricky’s jeans down as well and his finger thrust harder. All
thought left at that explosion of pure electricity.

“Ooohh.” Ricky sighed, his hips jerking as he clenched

around Charlie’s finger.

They were a tangle of limbs, clothing askew, fingers

teasing and pressing against those spots deep inside that
created sensations better than any drug. He stroked Charlie’s
cock and moaned as Charlie wrapped his free hand around
Ricky’s in turn. He’d never encountered a madness like this
before Charlie.

Their mouths met again in long, sipping kisses. Ricky’s

lips tingled, and the kiss intensified, his tongue sinking inside
Charlie’s mouth over and over in a slow rhythm that had
Charlie melting against him. Surrender tasted sweet on
Charlie…always had. For all that he seemed so self-possessed
and in control on the outside, in private he yielded in a way
which made Ricky dizzy. Oh, he had him now.

“I want to taste you,” Charlie whispered, rubbing against

FORTUNATE SON

Ricky sensuously. He tried to shift to take Ricky’s cock in his
mouth, but their limited space hampered him and he cursed.
Ricky chuckled at the pout to his lower lip.

“Turn around, baby…it’ll make it easier. Just turn around.”

If he kept kissing Charlie it would muffle the sounds, not that
anyone on the bus was paying attention. He knew his baby. At
this point, any protests Charlie made would be token. He was
craving sex as much as Ricky. He might blush like crazy in the
morning, but that was it.

Charlie stared at Ricky for a long moment, as if

considering. Hell, if he kept chewing on his lip like that, Ricky
was going to take the decision away from him. Then Charlie
blushed and shifted, squirming around to face the back of the
seat and looking back over his shoulder at Ricky.

“Don’t get us kicked off this bus, farm boy. I don’t feel

like hitchhiking.”

Ricky shivered and nodded. Charlie did that often, a last

protest, as if he wasn’t entirely into going along with things,
when they both knew Charlie was as wicked as Ricky. He just
needed nudging sometimes. Like now.

Ricky stretched out on his side behind Charlie, making

sure the blanket was covering them. Their bodies meshed
perfectly, curve for curve. Ricky buried his face in the nape of
Charlie’s neck, in the tangle of his soft, dark hair, then lifted
his head, one hand coming around to slide against Charlie’s
opposite cheek, turning his face toward him and capturing his
lover’s lips. He’d kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

He reached his hand down and slid it between Charlie’s

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thighs from behind, the skin hot and soft. He lifted Charlie’s
top leg up and bemoaned the fact that, with their jeans still
around their knees, there would be no limbs tangling together.
Oh, well, he’d take what he could get.

Charlie kept moaning into his mouth, and the way his slim

hips rocked in eagerness made Ricky shudder and melt. He
hurried to slide two fingers inside his lover, needing him ready
because his body was on a collision course to fucking and he
didn’t want to hurt Charlie when he reached the no turning
back point.

Charlie reached around, his hand fisting in Ricky’s shaggy

hair. There wasn’t much room to move, but Charlie clenched
and wiggled. It made Ricky faint headed to think about how it
was going to feel when that snug heat surrounded him with
Charlie moving like that.

It didn’t take much preparation. Charlie was relaxed and

eager, spurring Ricky on with soft, impatient sighs. Then his
lover broke away to rummage through the bags. Ricky
moaned, his cock throbbing and rubbing against the cleft of
Charlie’s ass. What was he up to now?

Then Ricky groaned, as long fingers reached between him

to stroke over Ricky’s cock. They were silken and oiled,
moving over him with ease. Ricky turned his face into
Charlie’s neck and hair. “You thought ahead.”

Charlie laughed, low and throaty. “I try. Now, come on.

Don’t wanna wait.”

Charlie might protest, but when he gave in, he did so

whole-heartedly. Ricky slid his fingers out and grasped

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Charlie’s lean hips. They fit just right in his hands. His mouth
moved along Charlie’s jaw until his baby turned his head and
they kissed. In a sensuous fog, Ricky felt Charlie’s hand guide
him. His cock pressed against his lover’s entrance, Charlie’s
cheeks and thighs holding him tighter than normal as he
pushed deep inside.

“Damn, baby…so hot. Got gypsy eyes, you know that?”

Ricky murmured against his mouth.

In fact, there were many things about his lover that brought

roaming bands of gypsies to mind. His dark coloring, hooded
golden eyes and raven black hair, ruddy, tawny skin and
exotic features…he was nothing like anyone Ricky had ever
met back home in Iowa or anywhere else. There was only one
Charlie and he was all Ricky’s.

Then Ricky shut up because he was inside Charlie and the

pleasure was visible, a wild array of vibrant colors sparking in
the air between them. He wondered if the other bus-goers
could see them, too, like a fourth of July show going on in the
back seat. Ricky didn’t care if everyone saw them. Not when
he was moving inside Charlie, with Charlie clenching hot and
tight around him. Ricky wouldn’t have cared if his daddy had
tapped him on the shoulder right then.

Ricky claimed Charlie’s lips again, rocking his hips, one

hand firm on Charlie’s narrow waist to hold him steady as he
thrust, his movements forced to be shallow and short, but the
pleasure was no less intense. Muted and strung tight, the effort
to keep quiet and the high running through his body all
combined into what was possibly the most stunning sex Ricky

FORTUNATE SON

had ever had. Of course, every time with Charlie translated
into the best time ever. Each upped the last and Ricky
wondered if it would ever plateau and stop getting better.

Charlie’s hand laced with Ricky’s on his side, and Ricky

squeezed, circling his hips. Charlie gasped and whimpered, the
quiet sound shuddering through Ricky. He panted, murmuring
against Charlie’s lips. “My gypsy love…” His tongue traced
sensually, and he groaned when his lover sucked it into his
mouth. The kiss delved hotter than ever into dark, shadowed
recesses where the dirtiest things happened. Shadows Ricky
only dared to explore with Charlie.

“Mmmm, wanna take off in a boat with you, Ricky. Just us

on the ocean, free, no worries.” Charlie sighed as he broke the
kiss, thumb stroking the back of Ricky’s hand. “I can write my
poems about you, sing you songs. I’ll be all yours.”

“You are all mine.” Ricky kissed Charlie again. It was a

nice dream and he thought he might live in it a little while as
they made love. It beat reality, where there were drafts to
worry about and the weight of knowing his parents had sold
some of their land to give him a chance his brother had never
had.

Ricky’s heart twisted. He wrapped his arms around

Charlie, pressing closer, hiding his face in Charlie’s neck as he
thrust harder. Charlie gasped. The musical sound brought him
back to the dream and the familiar pain drifted away. Heat,
pleasure and Charlie’s writhing, slim body were the only
things that existed.

The bus lurched into a pothole, bouncing them, and

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Charlie moaned loudly, clenching. Ricky loosened one arm to
brush Charlie’s hair away and then fisted his hand in it so he
could kiss him. That muffled his moans because Charlie was
beyond holding back. He got like this when the wild, sensual
side of him was unleashed, as if all thoughts of decorum fled.
Ricky loved it.

Charlie rocked harder. At one point, he’d reached behind

the both of them and now Charlie’s fingers were pressed
against Ricky’s ass, holding him still as he worked back and
forth on his cock. Ricky couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was the
kiss, or the sensations…he didn’t know or care. He just didn’t
want it to end.

Oh, but it was going to end, and too soon for Ricky. He

groaned, fingers curling tighter on Charlie’s waist, digging
into the sleek skin as the pleasure rose.

He moaned, trying to keep quiet, but he was rapidly

forgetting why he should. He pulled back slightly and
managed to slide his free hand around to close over Charlie’s
mouth, shuddering when Charlie drew one of Ricky’s fingers
inside and suckled on it.

Ricky’s hips thrust harder, short and deep, grinding against

Charlie’s ass. “Charlie…” He gasped, burying his face in
Charlie’s neck and latching onto the tender skin, drawing on
it, marking him, and Charlie shuddered hard in reaction. Then
he tightened, and Ricky was lost, stiffening and bucking his
hips hard as he came.

Charlie wasn’t far behind, working his hips back hard,

circling them, shaking, and when he came, he bit the pad of

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Ricky’s finger, stinging it, but not in a bad way. The
connection between them was breathtaking, and Ricky quickly
withdrew his finger and claimed Charlie’s lips as the last
tremors of his orgasm wracked his body.

They were sweaty and sticky, and Ricky didn’t care. He

was floating unfettered, with only Charlie for company and it
was more than enough. He panted, lips curving in a lazy smile.
“Aw, damn, my wicked gypsy love…”

Charlie sagged into the broken upholstery and wrapped the

blanket tighter around them. “Wicked? Nah, farm boy, that’s
all you. I thought they grew them innocent in Iowa.”

Ricky chuckled and rubbed his mouth against Charlie’s

throat. The sex in the air was more potent than the drugs. “I
was, then I met you. You taught me all kinds of things besides
what was in those books of yours.”

Charlie shook his head, his hair tickling Ricky. “It was

already there, just hidden. Maybe I woke it up, but it’s always
been there.” He turned his head and brushed a kiss over
Ricky’s jaw. “Now you’re teaching me things. Wonderful
things.” His voice sounded sleepy and sated, and Ricky knew
he’d put that tone there.

“Share ’em with me in the morning.” Ricky nudged those

lips apart and kissed him lingeringly. They should move, but it
felt so good to be snuggled up against him, still inside his heat.
“Got a long day ahead.”

Charlie’s fingers stroked his hair, tender in a way that

made Ricky’s throat tighten. “You going to be okay
tomorrow?”

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Ricky thought of his brother and his heart twisted. The

drugs and Charlie’s warmth muted the anger, but it would be
there in the morning. It always was. Charlie was the only thing
that tempered it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotta do this.”

Charlie laid his head back on Ricky’s shoulder. “Me, too.

We’ll do it together.”

FORTUNATE SON

CHAPTER 2

“Give me your hand, Ricky.”
Charlie’s voice was quiet, yet it cut through the noise of

the protesters and Ricky’s own furious thoughts. He turned his
head and met knowing gypsy eyes. Ricky’s brows furrowed,
but he gave Charlie his hand.

As soon as their fingers touched, Ricky felt some of the

tension and anger roused by the speeches begin to ease. He
was calmer, more in control. Which was good…he needed to
be because, as they crested the hill and the Pentagon came into
view, Ricky saw the lines of military officers blocking the
entrance. This was going to get messy.

Charlie could apparently sense it, too, because he squeezed

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Ricky’s hand and moved closer as they walked.

“I’m fine,” Ricky lied. The truth was, the speeches and

crowds of likeminded protesters had Ricky wound up.
Furious. His brother Randy’s face ran through his mind over
and over in a slideshow, culminating with Randy’s coffin. An
empty coffin, laid in an empty grave. His brother was never
coming home, not even his body.

While many others, Charlie included, protested the war for

idealistic reasons, Ricky protested because he was furious.
Because of this war, his brother would never come home.
Because of this war, his parents had been forced to sell off part
of their livelihood so Ricky could go to college and not wind
up in that hellhole where his brother had died. Because of this
war, Ricky’s life was forever changed and not for the better.

He was so angry. Only Charlie’s presence, and his grip on

Ricky, soothed him.

Charlie squeezed his hand again. “Will you look at that?”
Ricky glanced over to where he was pointing, at a huge

number of protestors already there, in addition to the new ones
marching from the DC mall. He had been concentrating so
hard on the soldiers barring the way that he’d missed them.

Some were singing, others chanting and waving signs. The

soldiers were ignoring the entire scene, staring straight ahead,
as if unmoved by the display.

“The more of us there are, the better our chances of being

heard.”

Charlie’s mouth twitched as they passed by one of the

groups sitting down on the ground, signs discarded. “I heard

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about this. They’re trying to exorcise the Pentagon. It’s
supposed to levitate and turn orange, and when it does, the war
will end.”

Ricky cast the group a speculative glance again. “When

we’re done, why don’t we come back and see if they’re
willing to share some of what they’re smoking.” It was a nice
thought and would be amusing to participate in, but right now,
he had another agenda. His steps quickened as he focused all
his attention on the soldiers and strode determinedly toward
them, Charlie following alongside him, casting him worried
looks.

“I’m fine.” Ricky didn’t mean to snap, but it came out that

way.

Charlie leaned over and brushed his lips over Ricky’s

cheek. “I didn’t say you weren’t.” He gave Ricky a teasing
smile before his eyes became serious and tender. “And I’m
here.”

Ricky nodded. He didn’t let go of Charlie’s hand, trying

his best to focus on the calming effect his lover had. The
soldiers with their guns and blank expressions made his
stomach tighten. He felt sick, staring at them. Soldiers just like
these had watched his brother die. And inside that building
were the people who had sent his brother to die. Ricky was
going to get inside, one way or another. What he’d do once he
was there…well, he’d figure that out when the time came.

For the most part, the protesters hovered a dozen yards

away from the entrance and the guards, as if trying to decide
whether to approach. They were still singing, chanting, but

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Ricky could tell they weren’t quite sure what to do next.

Fuck that. Ricky knew.
Breaking away from the crowd, with Charlie’s hand still in

his, he stalked across those empty yards and up the low steps.
He halted face-to-face and less than a foot from one of the
soldiers.

He didn’t say anything at first, just glared at the young

man, who didn’t make eye contact.

“Look at me,” Ricky said in a hiss.
The soldier did, before his eyes darted away.
“Look at me!”
The silence that had fallen over the group of protesters

broke, spurred on by Ricky’s shout. More surged forward,
climbing the steps to challenge other soldiers as well. Ricky
barely noticed, focused on the one in front of him, like that
young man was the sole incarnation of everything that had
ruined Ricky’s life.

“You’re gonna protect them? You’re willing to die for

them? Why aren’t they out here, huh? Who’s gonna protect
you? Your guns? I’m not afraid of your guns, soldier boy. I’m
not afraid of you, either.”

The soldier finally met Ricky’s eyes, derision and fear on

the young man’s face. The expression made Ricky angry. So
angry. Had Randy looked like that at the end? No, no. His
brother had been strong and brave; nothing scared him. Ricky
reached inside his T-shirt for the pair of dog tags he never
took off and lifted them out.

“Ricky…” Charlie’s voice was quiet, worried, and he

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moved closer.

“I need to do this.” Ricky glared at the soldier as Charlie

ran his thumb over the back of his hand and remained silent.

Ricky touched the dog tags again. “This was Randall

Anderson, damn you. My mama didn’t even get to bury him
properly. You know why?” His voice rose to a near shout,
drowning out the sounds of singing around him. “There was
nothing left of him to bring home!”

Charlie’s hand tightened as the soldier glanced down at the

tags. He was so young, about Randy’s age if he’d lived, and
the soldier’s jaw tightened. That was the crux of it, though—
this man still lived. He was here safe in DC, while others were
dying every day in some damn country no one cared about.
Politics. Ricky hated it.

“Have you ever asked yourself why?” Ricky followed an

example he’d learned from watching Charlie and lowered his
voice. It had the desired effect as the soldier met his eyes
again, not looking away. They were hazel, afraid and angry.
Ricky hated him all the more for being alive. “You’re just
gonna follow along blindly, let them kill you, kill your friends
or even better come back crippled or crazy. For what?”

Ricky glanced over at his companions. Up and down the

line more protesters had joined in, some confronting as Ricky
had done and others finding their own methods. A few of the
rifles now sported flowers sticking out of their barrels. One
man had hung his “make love, not war sign” on another rifle,
while a woman danced in front of the line to the rhythm in her
mind, imploring the soldiers to join her.

FORTUNATE SON

It was useless. No one else understood. Even Charlie, as

much as he cared, didn’t know what it was like to lose a
brother and not understand why he was gone. It was an
endless, gnawing hole inside of him. The others were here to
promote an idealistic notion of good that would never happen.
He almost pitied them. He wanted Randy back, and that
wasn’t going to happen.

Ricky turned and pushed blindly back into the crowd, and

Charlie stumbled at the abrupt change of direction, tugging his
hand free. Ricky froze, his eyes snapping to Charlie’s worried
face, the loss of contact agonizing. Then Charlie was slipping
his arms around Ricky’s waist, uncaring of the crowd around
them as he pressed closer. Charlie’s fingertips caressed his
cheek, and Ricky closed his eyes savoring the simple, easy
contact.

“Hey, farm boy, you okay?”
Ricky lips twitched. Only Charlie could mix the right

amount of teasing and tender concern into his voice that made
him respond. “Yes, no…ugh, I don’t know.” Ricky opened his
eyes and pressed a quick kiss to Charlie’s lips. “I’ve got to get
inside.”

Charlie didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Ricky

could tell by the way his brows drew together that his lover
was planning. Ricky watched, intrigued, as Charlie turned in a
slow circle and scanned their surroundings and the building
beyond the soldiers.

“Come on.”
Ricky cocked his head, but followed as Charlie led him

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away from the protesters, toward the side of the Pentagon.
Ricky frowned, glancing back at the crowd and then at
Charlie, confused. “Where are we going?”

“Trust me.”
Ricky did and so he stopped asking questions Charlie

clearly wasn’t going to answer. A couple of other members of
their bus group spotted them walking away and hurried to join
them. Charlie didn’t protest their presence, so Ricky didn’t
either.

As they slipped around the corner of the building, the

sounds of the crowd grew quieter the farther they went.
Ricky’s stomach leapt in realization. There was another door
here, a side entrance, and his heart began to pound as Charlie
led him to it.

He grinned. “You’re brilliant.”
Charlie shrugged with a smile and gestured to the door, his

eyes on Ricky. “Lead the way.” Ricky knew Charlie
understood that, while Charlie and the others were protesting
too, this was personal to Ricky and meant more than an end to
a war no one wanted.

Ricky nodded, taking a deep breath as he reached for the

door handle. He didn’t expect it to open, so when it did, he
stumbled inside, startled. “Holy shit…” He peered back at his
lover and their companions.

Charlie winked. “Press entrance. Just don’t do anything

stupid and make me regret it.”

Ricky laughed. “What’s the point then?” He still didn’t

know what he was going to do. Hell, it wasn’t like he was

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going to try to hurt anyone. He didn’t know. He just wanted
someone to see him. To hear him.

The sound of rushing feet was the only warning they had.

Soldiers surrounded them, pushing them backward. Ricky’s
heart pounded as the scuffle tore Charlie from his side, and he
struggled to reach his lover. “Charlie!” Rough hands tugged
and shoved. Though he thought he heard Charlie over the
shouts, he couldn’t see past the wall of bodies to find him.

Ricky snarled and planted his fist into one soldier’s jaw,

then doubled over gasping for breath as other fists landed on
him. More hands picked him up, and the next thing he knew
he was falling down the steps, the hard stone bouncing and
jarring him. Protestors rushed past him roaring, heading for
the small entrance. Behind him, he heard exclamations of pain
and the hiss of teargas.

Gingerly, Ricky picked himself up, bruises already aching

all over his body, and scanned the area for Charlie. He found
his lover sitting up, shaking his head. Fear pushed away
Ricky’s fury as he rushed toward him.

“You okay?” he demanded, kneeling next to him.
His lover smiled, his eyes sad as he reached up and gently

touched the corner of Ricky’s mouth. Ricky winced, feeling
the blood trickling from his lip, tickling his skin. Charlie
sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay, and I look better than
you.”

Around them the crowd started singing “America the

Beautiful.” It was moving and ironic at the same time as the
soldiers repulsed the protestors, some using their rifle butts.

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Ricky was tired, not the kind of tired a person got from being
up half the night and walking all day, but the kind of tired that
went deep, to his soul.

It didn’t take long for the soldiers and their teargas to push

back the crowd. Ricky kept Charlie close behind him, shouting
as the uniformed men hauled off several dozen of their
number in handcuffs.

As the excitement ebbed, Ricky slid his arm around

Charlie, leading him away to sit on a low wall. “You sure
you’re alright?” It was apparent that any attempt to get inside
the Pentagon was not going to happen, so the bunch of them
had settled for singing and chanting, blocking the entrances
and settling into a peaceful, if annoying for the government,
protest.

Charlie nodded, urging Ricky to sit, too. “Yeah, let me get

a look at that lip.”

Ricky held still as Charlie probed, his slim, elegant fingers

brushing the swollen, injured side of his lower lip. Ricky
examined Charlie’s face, so close to his own, as his lover took
a small packet of alcohol wipes from his backpack. Leave it to
Charlie to be prepared. Ricky wondered if he’d been a Boy
Scout when he was little.

“Thank you.”
Golden eyes lifted to meet his own and Charlie tipped his

head with a curious smile. “For what?”

Ricky shrugged, gesturing to his lip, then toward the

building. “For everything. For getting me in. For taking care
of me now. You’re my guiding light, Charlie.” He was the one

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person who seemed able to reach Ricky through the haze of
anger and hurt that sometimes took over. The only one who
had tried to see past the corn-fed Midwestern farmer to the
rebel inside. The only person who had told Ricky it was okay
to let that rebel out. Ricky owed Charlie for a lot.

Charlie blushed and shook his head. He finished cleaning

Ricky’s lip and put away the supplies. “It was nothing.
Anybody would’ve—”

Ricky cut him off, covering Charlie’s mouth and meeting

wide eyes. “No, anybody wouldn’t have. You did. Thank
you.” He raised his brows. “This is the part where you say
‘you’re welcome.’”

When he lifted his hand, Charlie said nothing, although he

looked like he wanted to say something, even opened his
mouth to do so, then shook his head and focused on zipping up
his pack.

“It’s a good thing we brought the blankets and food. I

heard a bunch of people saying we’re camping out here
tonight and then marching to the White House at dawn to
wake Johnson.”

Ricky nodded, not sure why, but a little uncertain for a

second. Then Charlie looked up at him with a smile, and
Ricky forgot anything but that. “Maybe we can get thrown
down the steps of the White House, too.”

Ricky bit his lip, then flinched.
“Stop that,” Charlie chided, brushing his fingers over

Ricky’s jaw. “You’re going to break it open again.” His eyes
warmed and he grinned. “Though you look sexy with your lip

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all swollen. It makes me think dirty thoughts.”

Ricky chuckled, the momentary intuition that something

was off between them disappearing at the suggestion of
Charlie connected in any way with dirty thoughts. “Why don’t
you share some of these thoughts?”

“I could sing you a bad song, or recite you some atrocious

poetry about it, but you’ve been saved. My guitar has suffered
a disastrous fate.”

Ricky’s eyes widened as he realized Charlie wasn’t

Charlie shrugged and took Ricky’s hand again. “Taking it

Ricky felt bad—Charlie loved that stupid guitar. There was

nothing he could do, though, so he let Charlie pull him back
down beside him. He cast a sidelong glance at his lover and
smiled, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Your poetry isn’t bad. I love your poetry.” He leaned in

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brilliant when they were high.

Charlie smiled and laid his head on Ricky’s shoulder. It

was a soft, sweet, subconscious gesture. Ricky brushed a lock
of dark hair back from Charlie’s cheek and exhaled, looking
around at the now-dwindling protest. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Charlie lifted his head, and Ricky knew he understood

what Ricky meant. Maybe tomorrow they’d be heard. Maybe
tomorrow they’d make a difference. Maybe the war would end
and no one else’s brother wouldn’t come home.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow.”

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CHAPTER 3

Picket signs made great firewood. Ricky tossed another

post onto the fire, then tugged the blanket around their
shoulders, snuggling close against Charlie, legs tucked against
his chest.

“Charlie?”
His lover shifted. “Yes?”
Ricky turned his head to meet his eyes, which glowed

golden in the firelight. “Sing me a song.”

“I never thought I’d meet someone who loved the sound of

my voice more than me.”

“Stop it.” Ricky nudged him. “Please?” He didn’t know

why, but Charlie’s voice soothed him. It had a cadence to it, a

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low thrumming quality that made one listen. He could listen to
him talk for hours. Sometimes he thought Charlie was heard
better with his soft way of speaking than most people were
shouting.

Charlie wrapped his arm around Ricky’s shoulder and

pulled him closer. A tender smile crossed his lips. “Anything
you need.” He kissed Ricky’s temple, then started singing, just
loud enough for the two of them. There were others, around
their own fires singing their own songs, but Ricky only had
ears for Charlie.

He sang “Yesterday” by the Beatles and there was a

plaintive tone to it that caught Ricky’s attention. His own
worries fell away as he started wondering what was bothering
Charlie. When the last note died off Ricky touched his chin,
Charlie’s beard rough against his fingertips. He turned those
gypsy eyes on him, and Ricky’s heart tumbled. “What?”

Charlie just smiled and turned his head to kiss Ricky’s

fingers.

“All this talking.
Rhetoric. Proselytizing.
Words spoken or falling deaf on a page.
Useless debris.
Verbiage tumbling in the wind.
Others are dying.
Lives blown short.
Empty coffins.
Furious souls.

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All this talking.
Promises. Endearments.
Words unsaid or lost amidst the crevices.
Timid secrets.
Will you leave me tumbling in the wind?
Am I what I reveal?
The sum and equal of all my parts.
Or am I who I chose to be?
Untainted by familial policy.”

Ricky drew his brows together, trying to make sense of

what Charlie was telling him when his lover broke off and
wrinkled his nose. “Too melodramatic, I’m sorry. I know
that’s not what you’re looking for.” He dropped a kiss onto
Ricky’s lips. “How about a dirty limerick instead?

“There once was a farm boy from Iowa.
Who’s—”
Ricky clapped his hand over Charlie’s mouth. “Please,

don’t. I’m sober and I don’t wanna know what parts of me
you’ll attempt to rhyme with Iowa.”

Ricky lifted his hand from Charlie’s mouth and revealed a

soft, sweet smile that made Ricky’s heart flip inside his chest.
He brushed his fingertips across Charlie’s cheek, drinking in
his features, every line and curve of his beautiful face.

In truth, his Charlie was a mass of flaws thrown together

that somehow added up to unutterable beauty. Ears that poked
out and bent at the tips. Eyes too close together. A patrician
nose that reddened at the tip when he was cold, embarrassed

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or had too much beer. He was almost too skinny, and a scar
marred his upper lip. A mass of flaws. And yet combined in
such a manner he took Ricky’s breath away.

“I love you.”
The words tumbled out and Ricky was afraid he shouldn’t

have said them. Charlie would think he was a silly boy from
the farm who didn’t understand that love was for everyone,
not just one specific person. But then Charlie’s eyes lit up,
warming from the inside, and Ricky breathed a sigh of relief.
Charlie understood. Love wasn’t free at all, not this kind of
love.

“Ah, my sweet, angry farm boy, I love you, too.”
Ricky’s chest unknotted. He sank his hand into Charlie’s

hair and leaned in, kissing him. It was slow and brimming
with all of those crazy emotions Charlie triggered. Fierce and
tender, hot and loving, Ricky couldn’t get enough.

They broke apart, and Ricky nuzzled against Charlie’s lips.

It was cold outside the blanket, even the side of him that faced
the fire, but not under here with Charlie pressed against him.
Charlie lowered his eyes, lashes making dark crescents against
his check. “Ricky, I—”

“Do you have a finger?”
Ricky glanced up, irritated by the interruption. A couple

sat themselves next to their fire, huddling close. Sometimes
Ricky forgot they weren’t alone when they were together.
Maybe he could convince Charlie to steal away somewhere
else where it could just be the two of them, maybe make love
overlooking the river.

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“Yeah.” Charlie dug through his knapsack and tossed the

man a marijuana cigarette before glancing at Ricky, a silent
question in his eyes. Ricky shook his head. He didn’t feel like
getting high. He didn’t want to socialize much either.

Charlie chatted with them, talking about the day’s march

and the possibility of more rallies tomorrow. Ricky shifted,
restless with the desire to be alone. He glanced over his
shoulder, but it was hard to see far with the bonfires. He
nudged Charlie with his shoulder. “Wanna slip away?”

Charlie gave him a grateful look and nodded. They

excused themselves, grabbed an extra blanket and their
backpacks and headed away from the fire. It was cold, but
Ricky would prefer the chill to any company but Charlie’s.
They found a spot under a tree on the water’s edge, bushes
clustered around it that gave privacy. Ricky spread out one of
the blankets and pulled Charlie down to sit beside him, and
they both huddled under the other blanket.

“We’re going to catch our death,” Charlie murmured.
Ricky shrugged with a smile. “There’re worse ways to go

than wrapped up in your arms.” His smile faded, considering
those other ways. Charlie must have sensed his thoughts
because he caught Ricky’s chin and turned his face toward
him. Warm lips brushed Ricky’s and he sighed into the kiss,
letting all the dark thoughts go for the moment. He didn’t want
to think about anything but Charlie.

He urged Charlie back onto the blanket, covering Charlie’s

body with his own, and deepened the kiss. If he could, he
would never stop kissing him. He felt whole, less jagged and

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hollow inside. He shifted and his heart kicked up when
Charlie’s legs spread to cradle him. It was like coming home.

He broke the kiss, lips nibbling along Charlie’s jaw and

neck, the scruff there abrading his mouth in the most sensual
way.

“Ricky…I…”
Ricky lifted his head and met Charlie’s golden eyes

through the shadows. “Love me, Charlie. I need you to,
tonight more than ever.”

Charlie’s sighed and his hands came up to frame Ricky’s

face. “I do…don’t ever forget.”

Before Ricky could respond, his lover was kissing him

with an intensity that showed he was the center of Charlie’s
attention.

Ricky moaned, sinking into the kiss and the warmth of

Charlie’s arms. Nothing bad could happen when Charlie held
him. He pulled back, kissing over Charlie’s face and throat as
his lover stroked his hand through Ricky’s hair. Ricky slid his
hand under Charlie’s shirt, and Charlie jolted, then Ricky
realized why when his lover’s hands touched his own bare
skin. They were cold and it was startling, though they soon
warmed.

“Let’s go to California this summer,” Ricky murmured. “I

wanna lay you out on a beach where it’s warm. I wanna see
you naked in the sun.”

“Sounds beautiful. Or we could wrangle up a boat and go

sailing. I’ve dreamed about sailing with you.” Charlie laughed.
“I’d never let you off. You’d be all mine, and I could sing you

FORTUNATE SON

all the songs you wanted.”

Ricky ducked his head under the blanket and slid Charlie’s

shirt up. He pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. A dusting
of hair there made a thin trail down to disappear into Charlie’s
jeans. His tongue trailed over Charlie’s skin, searching until he
found Charlie’s nipple, already hard for him. “You taste
good.” He drew the nipple into his mouth, sucking and
circling with his tongue. His lover moaned, arching
underneath him, their cocks hardening and rubbing against
each other through their clothing.

Reality couldn’t hold a candle to what they’d built between

them. There were no politics, anger or fighting, no hatred.
Only love, pleasure and two people who were beginning to
think maybe changing the world wasn’t as important as
changing their own corner of it.

Ricky would be happy with that. He and Charlie, on the

open water. Charlie playing his guitar and singing to him,
making love whenever the urge struck. No drafts and no one
to tell them they shouldn’t.

“Maybe, when college is over, we’ll do that. Float away

together.” He lifted his head and found Charlie smiling at him.
Ricky reached up to touch a finger to his mouth. “Always
smile.”

Charlie drew Ricky close and twined his arms around him.

“As long as I have you, I will. I promise.”

A shadow flickered in Charlie’s eyes and Ricky took it as

uncertainty about their future. He rejected the idea and
determined that, for now, Charlie wouldn’t worry about

FORTUNATE SON

anything.

The kiss he gave Charlie was devouring, all consuming,

and Ricky hoped it swept away any doubts and fears, and left
only the certainty of love.

Charlie moaned as his mouth became soft and pliant. It

made Ricky’s cock throb and his heart flip. When he first met
Charlie, he had never taken him for the surrendering kind.
He’d seemed always in control. So, the first time Charlie had
shown that submissive side, it had blown Ricky away. He had
chalked it up to them getting high.

“It’s only me, right?” Ricky opened his eyes and met

Charlie’s gaze. Their lips still touched and Charlie’s tongue
slid provocatively over them. “I’m the only one you’ve
surrendered to.” It wasn’t a question anymore. Ricky knew,
with a burst of instinct, he was right.

Charlie smiled, a mysterious curving of his lips. “Only you

bring this out in me, Ricky.” He slid his hands under Ricky’s
shirt again and arched sinuously against him. “You’re better
than any high, better than the feeling I get when I put the
words together the way I intended. You’re who I think of
when I wake up and who I’m missing when I fall asleep
alone.”

Ricky’s breath hitched, his heart tumbling as Charlie’s lips

lingered over his jaw and his tongue flickered against Ricky’s
pulse.

“I want to put myself in your hands and let you do all those

wicked things I see in your eyes, all those things you haven’t
let out yet. I want to ride you underneath the moonlight with

FORTUNATE SON

that hot gaze of yours warming me up.”

Ricky closed his eyes, a wave of dizziness swamping him.

Charlie’s words had a crazy impact on him. They had great
sex, and he’d always thought just being inside Charlie was as
good as it got. But something lingered, just outside his
peripheral vision, whispering there was more.

For the first time, he listened to his inner voice. The one

that growled when Charlie went soft and supple beneath him.
Some instinct clamored to mark his golden skin, to lay a claim
on his lover so clear no one could miss it.

“You belong to me, Charlie.” Charlie nodded without

hesitation, and Ricky groaned. “I wish the world could know
it. I wish I could chain you to my bed, to my side.”

Charlie whimpered, a vulnerable sound that dug under

Ricky’s skin. “Do it, Ricky. Chain me to you; keep me
forever.”

Ricky lifted up onto his hands, staring down at Charlie.

His dark hair spread out on the blanket, his gypsy eyes were
hooded and mysterious, his lips swollen and kiss-pink. He was
looking at Ricky like he’d happily give himself to Ricky for
all eternity if he asked.

So he asked. “Can I keep you, Charlie? Say yes. Let me

keep you forever.”

Charlie’s eyes misted, and Ricky knew he was thinking the

same thing Ricky was. How close those words were to vows.
Ricky didn’t care. He felt more for this man than he did
anyone else, than he could ever imagine feeling for another. If
Charlie would say yes, Ricky would tie his lover to him until

FORTUNATE SON

the end of the world.

Charlie nodded, breathless. “Yes, keep me. Never, ever let

me go.”

A weight lifted from Ricky. He’d worried that his free-

spirited gypsy would dance away one day. No more. Charlie
would stay, and Ricky would never let him go. He reached up
and lifted the precious dog tags over his head. Charlie gasped,
but Ricky slipped them over his lover’s head and settled them
around Charlie’s neck. His chest tightened and he glanced up
to meet Charlie’s eyes. He wondered if Charlie understood,
but if anyone would, it was him.

Charlie took his pain away. He kept safe what Ricky

cherished most. Ricky trusted him, like no one else. Then he
kissed him, before Charlie could speak, and he was on the
verge of it, Ricky could tell. Kissed him like his life depended
on it. His hands were greedy on his lover’s long, lean body,
impatient with their clothes and eager to claim what was his.

Charlie moaned, the sound desperate, and his body moved

like a finely crafted instrument, which only played when
Ricky conducted. The lithe body beneath him writhed and
twisted as Ricky undressed him. Then he was naked, his skin
scorching despite the cold, and Ricky had to touch him, taste
him, hear Charlie calling out his name and asking for more.

Ricky’s mouth came down on Charlie’s arched throat,

nibbling, sucking hard on the tender skin. He couldn’t see the
mark he made in the shadows, but he felt its warmth against
his lips with a surge of triumph.

Ricky’s mouth moved lower, stopping to press a kiss

FORTUNATE SON

against the dog tags, lying on Charlie’s chest. He teased his
lover’s nipples until Charlie tugged on his hair. Ricky lifted
his head and smiled, taking Charlie’s cock in his hand and
stroking it, savoring the helpless expression on Charlie’s face.

“Get undressed, too.” Charlie opened Ricky’s vest, but

stopped when Ricky shook his head.

“Not yet.” He smiled when his lover whimpered, the sound

so soft he wasn’t sure if Charlie was even aware he’d made it.
“I’m not done with you. When I am, there’s going to be no
doubts, my gypsy love. I’m going to leave my mark all over
your beautiful body, whether it’s seen or not.”

Charlie whimpered again, a needy, encouraging sound that

shivered along Ricky’s skin. He was so erotic. And Ricky
didn’t see how he would ever get enough.

He skimmed his hands over Charlie’s silky-smooth skin,

the fine hair across his chest and down the center of his flat,
narrow stomach. Ricky gave his lover a wicked smile and
began walking two fingers along the seductive trail. Heavy-
lidded eyes stared up at him, lashes fluttering, and Charlie’s
chest rose and fell with his quickening breath.

“I’m going to taste every inch of you. Touch you inside

and out. And then you’re going to ride me, hot and hard, and
maybe we’ll bring the walls of that building down with the
force of it.”

Charlie smiled, reaching one slim-fingered hand to touch

Ricky’s cheek. “You’re a poet, too.” His smile turned teasing.
“A dirty poet.”

Ricky laughed, and it felt so good after the day they’d had.

FORTUNATE SON

Cleansing. He bent and gave one of Charlie’s nipples a nip. “I
can’t help it. You make me think the dirtiest thoughts.”

Charlie arched, wriggling. “Don’t just think them…act. All

those dirty ideas—do them.”

It was an invitation Ricky did not intend to let go to waste.

He slid his hand down and cupped Charlie’s hard cock in his
palm, fingertips caressing the silky skin of his balls, and gave
a squeeze.

Charlie gasped and his hands came to Ricky’s shoulders,

holding on as his hips bucked. “You own me.” His eyes were
intense in the dark, contrasting with the loving, happy smile
on his lips. “I’ve known it for a long time. I need you, farm
boy.”

Ricky dragged his tongue down the path his fingers had

traced and dipped it into Charlie’s navel. “It’s reciprocated.”
He loved using words Charlie had taught him. It made him
think of ideas and dreams beyond what he’d grown up with.

Charlie chuckled, the husky sound reverberating in the air

between them until his breath hitched as Ricky’s mouth
moved lower. He squeezed Charlie’s cock again, savoring the
gasping moan. Ricky adjusted the blanket, moving it over his
head so Charlie wouldn’t get cold. He didn’t need to see…he
knew Charlie’s body without any light to guide him. The little
drafts that swirled through the gaps were invigorating. It was
so hot under here.

Ricky slid his hand from his lover’s cock and fingered his

balls, teasing backward to his entrance, then forward again. He
kissed his hips, and between his thigh and his groin, tongue

FORTUNATE SON

stroking, lips nipping. He kissed every inch. Charlie’s breath
grew faster, the scent of his arousal got sharper, and Ricky
purposely avoided bringing his mouth any closer to his
straining cock.

“Ricky.” Charlie moved restlessly. “Who knew you were

so evil?”

Ricky snickered. “You.”
The response he got was a sultry roll of Charlie’s hips,

meant to entice Ricky to give his lover what he wanted. Ricky
smiled and splayed his hands on his thighs, spreading them
wide, and leaned in to lick the flesh of his inner thigh. He gave
the tender skin a gentle nip, then a harder one. Charlie bucked
and he let out one of those sweet whimpers, more frustrated
and impatient now, and Ricky chuckled.

“Ask.”
Charlie stilled, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

Ricky wanted to hear his gypsy love ask for his mouth on him.
He craved it.

“Ask, love. I’ll give you anything,” Ricky murmured,

inching closer to Charlie’s cock, but not quite there.

A soft, sobbing breath reached Ricky’s ears through the

blanket. “Please, Ricky, put your mouth on me. I can’t stand
the teasing.”

That wasn’t true and they both knew it, but he’d asked and

Ricky wasn’t going to renege. He shifted, Charlie trembling as
he did, and it gave Ricky such a thrill to know how eagerly his
lover wanted him.

Ricky leaned in, lips rubbing along the hard shaft, the

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silken warm balls. His tongue slipped out to taste. Just when
Charlie was shaking and probably on the verge of grabbing
him to get him where Charlie wanted, Ricky wrapped one
hand around the base of Charlie’s cock and brought him to his
mouth.

Charlie let out a soft cry, and Ricky groaned, closing his

lips around the head and sweeping his tongue across, tasting
him and loving it.

Charlie started to rock his hips, and Ricky grasped them in

his hands, shivering as Charlie shuddered. He held his lover in
place, mouth and lips teasing the head of Charlie’s cock,
tongue dipping into the slit, teeth scraping, sucking, until
Charlie trembled.

Every soft cry struck Ricky in the gut, making him dizzy.

He wanted to devour him and cradle him close at the same
time. He’d never imagined love could be this powerful. It
should scare him, but it didn’t. As much of a hold as Charlie
had on him, he knew his lover would cherish it. Charlie was
the kind of man who put others first. Ricky had known it
instinctively when they’d met, and the months since had only
proven it.

Ricky gave in to what they both wanted and sank his

mouth down until the hard length slipped into the back of his
throat. He held it there for a second, drinking in the sensation
and then began bobbing his head.

Charlie’s hands stroked his shoulders and then his hair.

Ricky was addicted to those hands and the way they touched
him. It didn’t matter how high they were, or how heated their

FORTUNATE SON

fucking was, those hands always cherished.

Ricky lifted his mouth after a few moments, though he

wasn’t done. He’d come back to that beautiful cock later, but
he had other spots calling for attention.

Charlie was so pliant and relaxed, his legs shifting at a

touch of Ricky’s hand, moving himself into the position Ricky
put him in. A leg turned to the side across his lower body,
letting Ricky lovingly kiss the curve of Charlie’s ass. Both
legs lifted against Charlie’s chest and spread so Ricky could
now tongue his entrance, contracting and eager for more.
Ricky gave the twitching little hole a soft kiss, as if promising
he’d be back, before sliding Charlie over onto his stomach and
beginning to kiss his way up the sleek curve of his back.

“Everything about you is sweet, Charlie…how’s that?

You’re sweet, soft and smell so good.” Ricky knew other
hippies, some of their bus companions in fact, who didn’t
smell nearly as sweet. But Charlie, even after a whole
weekend of protesting, driving and rest stops, smelled and
tasted good. A little stronger, more spice, but still good.

Charlie laughed, spreading his legs and rocking back on

his knees against Ricky, his ass nestling in the curve of
Ricky’s hips. “And you talk too much when you ought…”

Ricky grinned when Charlie’s words cut off at the rub of

the head of Ricky’s cock against his entrance. “You were
saying?”

Charlie moaned, pressing himself back and making a

sound of frustration when Ricky shifted and his cock slid
down to nudge at his balls instead. “Come on. You know I

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want you inside me.”

Ricky chuckled and nibbled the nape of his baby’s neck

until he squirmed. Ricky loved how sensitive that spot was.
His hands slid down Charlie’s sides and grasped his hips as his
mouth traced the long curve of his spine again to tease the
small dip in his lower back. Charlie moaned.

The blanket had all but fallen away and the chill air

prickled over their skin. Ricky didn’t care, not unless Charlie
started shivering. The air was pleasant against his overheated
skin. “I thought you were gonna ride me.”

Charlie shuddered, and Ricky slid his hand up his stomach

to toy with his nipples. He could tease Charlie for hours.
When they got back to Boston, he would lock Charlie up in his
room and do just that, all day long.

Ricky shifted them again, wrapping the blanket around

Charlie’s shoulders so he wouldn’t catch a chill and slid
underneath him. The ground was hard and cold against his
back through the other blanket, but he didn’t care as Charlie
straddled him. Before Charlie could move to take his cock
inside him, Ricky slid his fingers there instead, pushing past
the tight ring of muscle. “You’re so hot.”

Charlie grinned down at him, giving an exaggerated toss of

his long hair. “You think?”

Ricky laughed. Only Charlie could make him laugh in the

middle of sex. Charlie could make him laugh anytime. “I do,
but that’s not what I meant and you know it.” He gave a firmer
thrust of his fingers inside Charlie, nudging the spot Charlie
had taught him about months ago. “I meant here. Hot and

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tight…I love the way you feel.”

Charlie whimpered and his hands on Ricky’s chest curled,

trembling. Ricky slid his free hand around to Charlie’s back,
urging him down to lie on his chest.

He thrust his fingers, in and out, scissoring sometimes,

other times just in gentle circles. He could do this all night and
be content, but Charlie had other things in mind because
before long that lean body was moving sinuously against him.
His lover’s hips circled and rocked eagerly.

“You want me to fuck you?” He breathed in Charlie’s ear,

feeling the shiver run the down his lover’s spine. He nipped
Charlie’s earlobe. “Fuck you hard and fast or gentle and slow?
However you want it, take me.”

Another hard shudder and Charlie pushed to sit astride him

again, looking down through the thick curtain of his hair, his
eyes dark in the shadows. Ricky couldn’t look away,
transfixed. Charlie was, without a doubt, the most stunning
man he had ever known.

“I’ll take you, Ricky. Take you to heaven inside me.” His

words were a husky promise, and Ricky held his breath,
trembling as Charlie reached behind him and his fingers
closed around Ricky’s cock.

Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting on a soft

moan as he sank back. Ricky found himself holding his breath
as his cock was surrounded by that incredible heat he craved.

“Charlie!”
Ricky’s breath came out in a rush and Charlie’s eyes

opened, a mysterious smile crossing his lips. “Right here.” He

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leaned down over Ricky, the blanket draping on either side of
him. The expression on his face was so sensuous and joyful
Ricky’s heart hammered. For some reason, he gave this to
Charlie. For all of his anger, he could still inspire something
beautiful in his lover.

“They’d have to tear me from you,” Charlie said on a

breath. With that vow uttered in his whiskey voice, he started
to move, undulating in long, slow waves against Ricky,
clenching around him.

Ricky was mesmerized. It should be impossible to be that

unearthly erotic and still be real. His hands traveled to
Charlie’s torso, touching him as his lover rode him. Charlie’s
flesh was silky warm, the muscles fluid under his hands. He
was real.

The sound of their cries hovered in the little cocoon they’d

made for themselves in the bushes. No one else existed but the
two of them. There was no war, no protest, and Ricky wanted
to stay right there forever. He didn’t need anything else, just
Charlie. It ought to frighten him, how firm that thought was,
but it was exhilarating.

He lifted his head and kissed Charlie, swallowing his

moans, drinking in his sweet, spicy taste, the musky scent of
him. Charlie’s hair fell around his shoulders in a thick tangle,
tickling his skin. Ricky groaned, rocking his hips harder and
shivering when Charlie gasped against his mouth. He slid both
arms around Charlie, their bodies sliding against each other as
they moved in erotic rhythm.

“My love…” Ricky breathed against Charlie’s cheek. The

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cold didn’t register. The sounds of the others seemed a
hundred miles away. Ricky smiled. “Gonna carry you off and
keep you all to myself.”

Charlie lifted his head, meeting Ricky’s eyes and he

smiled in return. “That sounds perfect.”

It did. Ricky slid both hands down Charlie’s back to grip

his ass, rocking his lover on him, and the rhythm was mind-
blowing. Charlie clenched and relaxed with every thrust, his
hips circling just so, and Ricky shuddered.

He rolled then, laying Charlie out beneath him, and his

hand slid the length of one leg, urging it up against his
shoulder. Charlie arched and Ricky groaned as he sank even
deeper inside that exquisite tight heat. The slow passion was
giving way to the burning need and Ricky didn’t resist. It
almost always ended that way. The passion between them was
stunning in its intensity, tearing away any lingering doubts.

“More,” Charlie gasped, his tongue wetting his lips, and

Ricky could only nod. His thrusts sped up and he slid one
hand between them to wrap around Charlie’s cock. He
shivered, his arms wrapped around Ricky, and he kissed him
with a power that stunned Ricky. Only Charlie could pour
poetry into a kiss, make him feel more loved and secure
without words than another person could with a declaration.
This was a night for magic and Ricky vowed to stay up till
dawn so he wouldn’t lose one moment.

FORTUNATE SON

CHAPTER 4

Ricky shook his head as Charlie wove a garland of flowers

with his clever fingers. The morning air was cool and they
were walking with a number of other protestors toward the
White House. All of his anger had dissipated and when
Charlie plunked the flowers onto his head with a grin, Ricky
rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yer a lanky goof.”

Charlie shrugged, then laughed himself. “Probably.”
Ricky took his hand as they walked up to the wrought iron

gates surrounding the mansion at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
To his surprise, there was no wall of guards like at the
Pentagon. The scene was deceptively serene, looking like one
of the pictures his mama loved to collect. However, those

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white walls housed a man who insisted on continuing a war
that had long lost its meaning. He didn’t see the blood, the
horror. He didn’t have to worry about who was dying. He was
enjoying his role as a leader and not counting the costs. For
once, it didn’t make Ricky angry. It just saddened him.

The crowd started chanting. “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many

kids will you kill today?”

Ricky jumped onto the ledge and grasped the bars,

watching the house, listening to the chants and wondering if
Johnson was even listening. There had to be something they
could do to get his attention. Something outrageous that
wouldn’t get them killed.

He glanced around and noticed a handful of other guys

talking amongst themselves. Ricky didn’t know why, but he
got the feeling something was going down and he wanted in.
He hopped down and grabbed Charlie’s hand, moving over to
insert themselves in the group.

“We can’t climb the fence, man. They’ll shoot us down

like them Puerto Ricans,” one of the guys insisted.

Ricky glanced at the fence, then Charlie, and a wicked

smile curved his lips. Charlie got an “Uh-oh, I know that look”
expression on his face. Ricky winked.

“Well, they’d know we weren’t armed if we were naked.

Not like they could claim concealed weapons.” Ricky arched
his brows.

“Ricky! You’re not stripping on the front steps of the

White House!” Charlie’s voice was adorably scandalized.
Ricky was sure it had more to do with Ricky naked in front of

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everyone than any offense to the White House and the asshole
in residence.

Ricky grinned. “Why not? Don’t want me to get shot, do

ya?” He leaned in and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “Besides,
you’re gonna get naked with me, baby.”

Before Charlie could protest further, the idea caught fire

and the other guys began to strip their jackets off. Ricky did
the same and Charlie rolled his eyes before following suit.
They’d gotten down to T-shirts when a rumbling began and
Ricky turned to see a whole cavalry of motorcycle cops
roaring down Pennsylvania Avenue toward them. Aw, hell.
Shit meet fan.

He grabbed for Charlie, who was watching the spectacle as

if he planned on standing his ground, but Ricky saw the
determined set of the officers’ jaws and knew they were in for
it this time. “Not now.”

Protestors scattered as the police waded in kicking and

clubbing those nearest the gate. Poised to run, Ricky froze as
Charlie lurched with a sharp cry, his eyes dazed. Ricky snarled
and rushed the cop who was lifting his baton for another hit.

“No!”
The next thing Ricky knew he was tussling with the cop,

blows glancing off his back and shoulders. Someone was
kicking him in the ribs, but he didn’t care. They’d hit Charlie.
All the months he’d known his lover, he’d never seen Charlie
raise his hand to anybody, not even in self-defense, and there
were plenty of people who went out of their way to try to give
him a hard time.

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Words were Charlie’s weapons, ones he wielded

powerfully at times. To see him get hit, when he’d done
nothing to deserve it, drove all sense of reason from Ricky’s
mind. He continued to struggle, more hands holding him down
as he saw, with disbelieving eyes, Charlie wrench the baton
out of one of the officer’s hands before tossing it over the gate.

The action only infuriated the cops more. Ricky screamed,

kicking furiously as Charlie was jumped, the sounds of other
protestors running or falling all around. The cops shoved
Ricky onto his stomach, the impact driving the air from his
lungs as his hands were wrenched and cuffed behind his back.

“Goddamn, stupid motherfuckers. Weren’t doing nothing

to hurt no one and you hadda come out here and see what bad
asses you could be. Charlie! Fuck, where are you?”

“I’m here,” Charlie murmured, his voice muffled.

“Pretentious prigs.”

Ricky could barely breathe. His ribs ached and every

breath he sucked in burned, but when they hauled him to his
feet, he was relieved to see Charlie next to him, cuffed and
with a bruise starting on his cheek. Good God, Ricky had
never been so scared as when those cops had swarmed his
gypsy love. He’d heard about people ending up dead when the
cops broke up protests.

“You okay?” He ignored the cop snarling at him to shut up

and was relieved when Charlie nodded.

Then there was no time more to talk, the officers piling

them and the others who hadn’t managed to run for it into the
police vans surrounding the area. Charlie was in a different

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van, and Ricky was crawling out of his skin.

His fingers were numb by the time they dragged him from

the van at the station. Asshole cop had closed the cuffs way
too tight, and he tried not to wiggle his hands to keep the
metal from cutting into his wrists any more. He was grateful
as hell when the cuffs were removed and he was shoved into a
holding cell with the rest of their group.

His eyes scanned the crowd and then he heard Charlie cry

his name and a blur rushed past others in the cell to barrel into
him. Ricky grunted at the impact and his arms came around
Charlie hard, one hand in his hair, the other splayed on his
back as he maneuvered them toward the back of the cell. He
sat down on the bench, Charlie beside him.

“Shhh, hey, you alright, baby?”
Charlie nodded, wide, worried eyes scanning Ricky as his

hands moved with concern over him. “Oh, God, I was so
scared. Are you hurt? There were so many of them. I tried to
stop them but…”

Ricky shook his head, catching Charlie’s hands. “I’m

fine…bruised and sore, but fine.” He smiled when Charlie
brought one of Ricky’s wrists to his lips and kissed the raw,
reddened flesh where the cuffs had abraded his skin. “I’m
fine.” He cast a hateful glare toward the front of the cell and
the guards milling about. “No thanks to the good ole boys in
blue.”

“Ricky, we need—”
“I cannot fucking believe it,” Ricky cut in, fuming. “We

sneak into the Pentagon and get tossed down the steps. That’s

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to be expected. Hell, I’m surprised they didn’t arrest us then.
But this? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

“What for? Because you picked flowers in the park? Since

when’s that been a crime? Because we’re stripping naked in
front of the White House? Fucking call out the guard. What
the hell is good ole LBJ afraid of? Realizing he’s an
incompetent bastard?”

“I think we were arrested for putting up a fight,” Charlie

murmured. “I’m sure all the name calling didn’t help either.”

“Don’t start playing devil’s advocate.”
Around them their cellmates started to mutter as well,

caught up in Ricky’s tirade and voicing their complaints. The
cops glanced in and went about their business, sending a fresh
wave of verbal mocking their way.

“Ricky, I…”
“Just look at them.” Ricky glared at their guards,

adrenaline pumping through his body, his hands curling into
fists. “So damn sure they’re right. Sanctimonious s.o.b.s.” He
turned toward Charlie, gently touching the bruise gracing his
cheekbone. “You could’ve been really hurt and I know you
didn’t raise a damn hand to protect yourself.”

To Ricky’s surprise, Charlie’s cheeks colored. He opened

his mouth, shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, to
be honest, I did take a swing at one of them.” Ricky’s jaw
dropped and Charlie reddened even more. “When I saw him
hit you with the baton, I can’t remember ever being so scared.
I had to get to you.”

Ricky smiled, some of his anger melting away. He slipped

FORTUNATE SON

his arm around Charlie’s slender waist and drew him closer. “I
love you.” It was the first time he’d said it since last night and
somehow it was even more real, here in this dirty,
overcrowded cell than it had been last night in their little
haven.

Charlie’s eyes darkened and he gnawed on his lower lip.

“Ricky, I really need…”

Ricky frowned, tilting his head. For the first time noticing

Charlie seemed worried. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Was he hurt
after all? Ricky would kill those fucking sons of bitches if
Charlie was hurt.

Charlie shook his head. “I have to tell you…”
“Charles Irvine!” one of the cops shouted, and both Ricky

and Charlie glanced up.

Ricky frowned, rising at the same time Charlie did. What

was going on?

“Yes?” Charlie asked, looking uncertain and wary.
“You have a visitor, son.” The cop had a smirk on his face

that Ricky didn’t understand.

Ricky followed Charlie’s gaze past the cop to…holy shit.

That was Jackson Irvine. Wow, they must have really made an
impression if the fucking advisor to the Secretary of Defense
had come all the way to the police station. It took a second for
it to sink in that Mr. Irvine was looking right at Charlie, with a
hard, cold glare, and Charlie was cringing.

“Charlie?”
Charlie turned and gave Ricky a pleading look. “I can

explain.”

FORTUNATE SON

Ricky stomach began to tighten. “Explain what? What’s

going on here?”

“Charles David Irvine.” Mr. Irvine waved to the guard,

who opened the cell door. “Let’s go. Now.” When Charlie
hesitated, the tone hardened. “Boy, do not push me any
farther. Your mother is in hysterics.”

Ricky’s eyes widened. His mother? How would the…oh,

my God. Ricky’s wide eyes turned on Charlie, shaking his
head. “No way. No fucking way, Charlie! You’re one of
them?”

Charlie’s eyes glinted as he drew himself up. “No, I’m not.

He’s my dad, but that doesn’t make me one of them.” He
turned back toward the man in the doorway and shook his
head. “You shouldn’t have bothered. I’m not going.”

Ricky stumbled back, the truth hitting him like a double

punch to his gut. Charlie had been lying to him, had been
pretending to be his friend, to love him. He must’ve been
snickering behind his back the entire time. Around them, the
crowd started to mutter, an ugly undertone to some of the
words.

“I’m tired of your games, son, and I’m sick of you

embarrassing me,” Mr. Irvine snapped and gestured to the
cops nearby. “Drag him out if you have to.”

“You lied to me!”
Charlie’s face turned pale as he met Ricky’s eyes. “I tried,

I swear, Ricky, I tried to tell you. You were so mad when I
met you. I knew you wouldn’t understand. But I was going to
tell you. Every time I tried something came up or I lost the

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guts and…”

Ricky’s stomach roiled as the man he’d trusted changed

before his eyes. Everything Charlie had said to him had been
one goddamn pretense after another. The crushing realization
was followed by a rage that dwarfed what he’d felt yesterday.
Everything else around them fell away. It was just the two of
them—no jail, no protesters, no father from the defense
department—just him and the man who had made a mockery
out of his life.

His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered to a hiss.

“Bullshit, Charlie! You coulda told me a hundred times, but
you didn’t. You lied. All the time you were pretending to care
and understand, you were living off your warmonger father’s
dime and knowing you wouldn’t ever have to set foot in
’Nam, draft or no draft. Daddy’d make sure of that, wouldn’t
he?”

Ricky’s shaking fists clenched in fury, and even though

some part of him wailed at the way Charlie was shrinking
away from him with his huge gypsy eyes full of hurt, Ricky
didn’t stop. “You don’t have to worry about going there.
Dying like my brother, like all those other kids who never get
a chance to live!” Ricky shoved Charlie toward the cell door.
“Go on, run home to Daddy. I never shoulda trusted you.”

Charlie’s voice was broken and trembling. “Ricky,

please…please don’t. I was going to tell you. I just… Give me
a chance.”

Ricky shook his head sharply, taking a step back. His eyes

burned and he glared at Charlie. His heart was broken. The

FORTUNATE SON

man he loved, the only person he’d ever loved, was a fraud. A
liar. And hadn’t ever been anything else. “No. Get out. I’d
rather spend my time here, in jail, with people who are real.
Go away.”

Ricky turned his back, pushing through the crowd to the

far end of the cell and sank down on the bench. He refused to
look back. He’d never known Charlie at all. The sound of the
cell door clanging shut echoed and Ricky flinched, eyes
closing against the tears that wanted out.

* * *

Hours crawled by in slow degrees. Their numbers had

dwindled as some of the other protestors were bailed out or
brought before the commissioner. Ricky sat in his corner,
hunger gnawing at his stomach, a vast emptiness gnawing at
his heart. The officers had provided food, but the thought of
eating made him ill.

Ricky didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t

have any money for bail and he wasn’t about to call his folks
and ask for help. They’d been through enough as it was. He’d
gotten into this mess on his own.

He was scared. He didn’t want to stay the night here and,

as the sky darkened outside, that became more and more of a
possibility.

Charlie would’ve figured out a plan, but Charlie didn’t

have to. He had his daddy to come help him out of his scrapes.
The thought of his gypsy lover made Ricky’s insides twist into
painful knots. It was like finding out your grandmother killed

FORTUNATE SON

puppies—impossible to believe and horrifying because it went
against everything they represented. Charlie wasn’t a liar, at
least not the Charlie he thought he knew.

“Ricky.”
Ricky’s head shot up at the soft sound of Charlie’s voice

and he stared in disbelief. Charlie’s hands grasped the bars, his
reddened eyes sorrowful and afraid.

“What?” He was so stunned he couldn’t say anything else.
Charlie took a deep breath, his gaze steady. “It’s time to

go. You’ve been in there long enough. I…I have explanations
I owe you.”

Ricky steeled himself. He pushed to his feet and stalked to

the bars, holding his hand out. “Gimme my brother’s tags.
Then get the fuck out.” He’d been furious with himself when
he realized Charlie had walked off with them. He’d nearly
broken down then, terrified he’d never get them back. They
were all he had left of his brother.

Charlie’s eyes shimmered, but he shook his head

resolutely, stepping back from the bars. “No. Let me explain
and then if you still want them back and still want me gone, so
be it. But listen first.”

Ricky gripped the bars, the anger that had faded over the

day roaring back. “Explain what? There’s no explaining! Give
’em back, damn it!” He shoved his hand through the bars,
palm up, gritting his teeth when Charlie again shook his head.
“Bitch, those are my brother’s! Damn you!”

“Ricky, stop. I won’t keep them if you don’t want me to,

but please make that decision after we have a chance to—”

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“No!”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he drew a deep breath.

“Ricky Anderson, I did not kill your brother. I’m not the
reason he’s dead. Let me explain before you sentence me.”

Ricky froze. How dare Charlie bring up Randy? How dare

he even utter his name? For a long moment Ricky couldn’t
speak, he was so furious. And, in that moment, he began to
think. A wailing little voice clamored to be heard, insisting
Charlie wasn’t a liar or a fraud, that surely it was a
misunderstanding.

Ricky glared. “Doesn’t seem I have a choice. If you think

you’re getting away with those tags, you’re a damn fool.”

Charlie sighed. “Maybe I am. But I’m a fool who loves

you. Come on, farm boy.” He waved the guard over and Ricky
reluctantly stepped out of the cell, ignoring Charlie. It was a
lot harder to ignore that little voice in his head that ached to
believe, though.

Ricky didn’t say anything as he handled the paperwork. He

just wanted to get out of there, get his brother’s tags back, and
go home. Try to forget this entire thing had happened and,
somehow, try to forget Charlie. His heart seized at the idea.

Once outside, Ricky turned to Charlie on the steps. “There.

You did your good deed. I hope you feel redeemed…now,
gimme the tags and leave me alone.”

Charlie’s eyes were huge and sad, but he shook his head.

“Not yet. You’re going to listen to me, Ricky, and then make
that decision. Come on.” Without a glance back, his lover—
former lover—started down the road. Ricky scowled, but had

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no choice except to follow, fuming the whole time. Finally, a
few minutes later, Charlie stopped, looking around at the
sloping, grassy hill.

Charlie sank down on the grass and wrapped his coat

tighter around himself, hugging his arms to his chest. He took
a deep breath and lifted his head to meet Ricky’s eyes. “I
didn’t tell you who I was at first because you didn’t need to
know. I had enough shit from people who had figured it out,
and you had more than enough reason to be angry. Then I fell
for you and, damn, I fell hard. It came out of nowhere, and I
knew if I told you who my dad was you wouldn’t have
anything else to do with me. So I decided, well, maybe if he
gets to know who I really am, he can separate me from my
family. That’s why I invited you to the Students for a
Democratic Society rally. That’s who I am; that’s what I
believe in.”

Ricky averted his gaze, jaw working. That inner voice was

no longer quietly crying to him to believe, it was screaming.
No, no he lied to me! He’s one of them! But deep down, where
that voice lived, Ricky knew it wasn’t true. He was hurt and so
angry, but he couldn’t honestly tell himself Charlie was like
the rest of the world and believe it.

Charlie touched his chest, right where the dog tags lay

underneath his shirt, his eyes going distant before focusing
back on Ricky. “The first night we had sex, I tried telling you.
But booze and reefer don’t make for illuminating
conversation. After that night, I began to be afraid to tell you
again because I knew it was wrong you didn’t know and that

FORTUNATE SON

part of our relationship was a lie. You’d be mad, rightfully so,
and every time it seemed I got up the guts to tell you, we’d get
interrupted or the subject would get changed and I’d let it.

“When we decided to go on this trip, I swore I’d tell you

before we came back.” Charlie glanced away. “Not because I
thought we’d run into my dad. I thought he was at home in
Michigan this week. It just seemed like the perfect
opportunity, both of us heading out on something we believed
in.”

Ricky’s eyes burned as he finally sank to the grass. He

remembered the first night they’d made love. Even drunk and
high, he remembered it clearly. He’d been scared and unsure,
hadn’t known what the hell he was doing, but it had been
perfect and beautiful and had only reinforced the connection
they shared.

Charlie wasn’t finished, though, and Ricky was pulled out

of his remembering. “I can’t help who my father is, anymore
than I can help profiting from it. I hate it, knowing I’m exempt
when there are so many others who are scared to fucking death
and don’t know what to expect. You want to know what else?
There’s a part of me, deep down inside, that’s grateful as
much as I hate it. I wouldn’t last two seconds. I’m not a
fighter. I don’t have what it takes. If it came down to kill or be
killed, I’d be dead, and that’s the truth.”

Ricky’s insides knotted. The idea of Charlie in this war

was…horrifying and as obscene and nauseating as the idea of
an angel condemned to hell. It made Ricky sick to imagine, for
even a second, gentle Charlie over there, facing what Randy

FORTUNATE SON

had faced, dying like Randy had died. He swallowed hard
against the bile and his eyes stung.

Charlie picked at the grass, his voice turning husky. “My

dad would say it’s because I’m not really a man. I confirmed it
in his eyes when I told him I was in love with you.”

Ricky lifted his head, unable to hold back the tears aching

behind his eyes any longer. “You lied to me, Charlie. God, to
find out like that, in front of everyone, to be blindsided…”

He shook his head. Ricky wanted to believe his reaction

would have been different if the circumstances had been
otherwise. “Maybe the way I reacted confirmed all your fears
about telling me. But if you’d told me last night…or any other
night when it was just us and we were having one of our all-
night talks… Charlie, I’d like to think I’d have reacted
differently.” He looked down, then back up, swiping at his
damp cheeks. “It hurt so bad.”

“I…I know and I’m so damn sorry you found out that way.

I never intended for it.” Charlie’s cheeks reddened. “Hell, I
never even imagined it as a possibility until we were in the
cell. I tried telling you last night. I know trying isn’t doing, but
when we were there by the fire, I was going to tell you.”
Charlie reached out and tentatively took Ricky’s hands in his
own. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I guess my timing
sucks because when I started to, you told me you loved me
and…”

Charlie broke off and when he spoke again, his voice was

barely audible. “I really wish I had told you before that.”

Ricky’s mind raced, remembering last night how much

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he’d needed Charlie and the comfort. That’s why he’d asked
Charlie to sing to him. He knew there was something
weighing on Charlie’s mind from the song he chose and the
tone of his voice. Charlie had been afraid he’d screw it all up
and when Ricky had asked him, Charlie had given him that
poem. He was always doing that, when he couldn’t voice what
he wanted to say. Charlie had told him; Ricky just hadn’t
understood at the time. Charlie’s voice whispered in his mind.

Am I what I reveal?
The sum and equal of all my parts.
Or am I who I chose to be?
Untainted by familial policy.
Ricky tightened his hands around Charlie’s and then freed

one to lift Charlie’s chin gently. The sight of Charlie’s eyes
shimmering tore at him with the need to comfort him. It
occurred to him that Charlie never sought comfort from him;
he’d spent the entirety of their relationship soothing Ricky’s
angers and fears instead.

“When you asked if I wanted to get away I was so damn

grateful. I had to talk to you. It was burning up inside me.”
Charlie’s shoulders sagged and he shook his head breaking his
gaze away. “Then you asked me to love you, and I let it go
again. I have no excuse, no way of making it up to you. I
know I hurt you and I know it’s going to be hard for you to
forgive me, but I love you so much, Ricky. I need you. I’m
sorry. Please, give me another chance to show you.”

Ricky shook his head, and Charlie’s face fell. Then Ricky

smiled and it was such a beautiful thing to watch hope light up

FORTUNATE SON

in those gypsy eyes. “You don’t have to show me, Charlie.
And you don’t have to make it up to me.” The annoying little
voice in his head was singing a happy song.

He shifted to his knees in front of Charlie and cupped his

lover’s face in his hands. “You told me…I just didn’t hear
you. I’m sorry I said those things to you this morning. Please
believe me, I didn’t mean them. I lashed out and I shouldn’t
have.” He gave Charlie a sad, hopeful look. “I’m sorry.”

Charlie didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around

Ricky’s neck and clung. Ricky held him tightly, rubbing his
cheek against Charlie’s hair.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, eyes closing. Then he

pulled back, just a little, and met Charlie’s eyes. He placed his
hand against his lover’s chest, the dog tags pressing against his
palm through Charlie’s shirt. “I gave you these because I
trusted you. I forgot for a little bit today and I promise you
right now I’ll never do it again. I swear.”

Ricky smiled, a little teasing. “Not to say I won’t lose my

temper and act like a jackass ever again, but I’ll remember
why I gave you these tags to keep for me.” He brushed a lock
of hair back from Charlie’s cheek. “Because you keep me
safe, Charlie. I trust you to do that, in the deepest part of me. I
won’t forget again.”

Ricky intended to spend the rest of his life with this man,

this beautiful gypsy soul who owned him completely. And he
vowed to himself he would never forget that when it came
down to the end of the world…Charlie would save him. Ricky
only hoped he could do some saving of his own.

BOUT

UTHORS

Fae Sutherland has always dreamed of being a published
author, starting off her writing career at age 11 with a horrific
“Monkees” fan fiction that will, luckily for all, never see the
light of day. At age 34, she has since progressed to more
serious writing, though always keeping that dash of
irreverence and fun.

Fae tells the stories that the muses give her, but though she is
multi-published both solo and jointly, she truly does prefer
writing with her co-author Marguerite Labbe best. When she’s
not working hard on writing new stories to make her readers
sweat or slaving over edits for completed work, she spends her
time on website and graphic design, being with her closest
friends and playing The Sims 2 until the wee hours of the
morning.

Marguerite Labbe has been accused of being eccentric and a
shade neurotic, both of which she freely admits to, but her
muse has OCD tendencies, so who can blame her? Her
husband and son do an excellent job keeping her toeing the
line, though.

Together with her co-author Fae Sutherland, Marguerite has
found a shared passion for beautiful men with smart mouths.
When she’s not working hard on writing new material and

editing completed work, she spends her time reading novels of
all genres, enjoying role-playing games with her equally nutty
friends, and trying to plot practical jokes against her son and
husband. Her son is learning the tricks too quickly and likes to
retaliate. You’d think she’d learn.

Find out more about Fae and Marguerite at their website:
http://chasethedream.net

* * *

Don’t miss 629 Miles To Love,
available at AmberAllure.com!

When Noah Parker left his hometown six years ago, he left
behind more than his family and the confines of a town he’d
outgrown. He also left behind Cal Green, his childhood best
friend and high school love, and it’s the one thing he’s
regretted ever since.

Now, called home by his ailing father, Noah decides he’s had
enough of regrets and sets in motion a plan to convince Cal
that they’re meant to be. Noah has a full tank of gas, a
reluctant passenger, and 629 miles to change the past before
his gas, and his time, runs out…

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

OLD

TANDARD IN

UBLISHING

UALITY

OOKS

OTH

RINT AND

LECTRONIC

ORMATS

CTION

DVENTURE

USPENSE

HRILLER

CIENCE

ICTION

ARK

ANTASY

AINSTREAM

OMANCE

ORROR

ROTICA

ANTASY

GLBT

ESTERN

YSTERY

ARANORMAL

ISTORICAL

IRECT

AVE

www.AmberQuill.com

www.AmberHeat.com

www.AmberAllure.com

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