Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

2

N

EIL

Garfield groaned as he unfolded his body from his

Toyota Corolla and walked into the high school building. It
was a beautiful spring day in small-town northern Florida,
blue skies and sunshine, and he had a moment’s longing for
his old ’46 Indian Chief motorcycle. He missed the heavy
rumble of the black and yellow machine with its wide leather
saddle seat, the way it ate up the miles and put him face to
face with the sky with plenty of room to stretch his long legs.
It had been a classic when he’d gotten it on its last legs in
1971 and rebuilt it by hand—it would be worth a fortune
now. He thought about it sometimes, on days like today,
and hoped the man who had bought it from him in ’82 was
taking good care of it.

Neil knew of only one thing in his life he loved more

than that old bike: the reason he’d sold it in the first place.

“Mr. Garfield! He’ll be surprised to see you.”

“Good morning, Mindy. Is he in his room?”

“I think he’s in the teacher’s lounge. Do you want me

to page him?”

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3

“If you don’t mind. But don’t tell him it’s me.”

Mindy laughed, giving him a friendly wink. She was a

sweet girl, but she made Neil feel so old. He never thought
about how old he was until he came to visit Simon at the
high school where he taught and found Mindy—little Mindy
Etheridge, who had gotten bubblegum in her pigtails at the
mechanic’s garage where her dad worked with Neil and had
cried when they’d had to cut her hair to get it out—in the
school office, all grown up, working as one of the assistant
secretaries. He remembered when Ron, her dad, had come
to work at Nick’s Garage with him. She’d been six then. She
was twenty-three now.

Mindy picked up the intercom telephone and dialed

the extension for the teacher’s lounge. A few moments later,
she asked whoever was on the other end, “Is Mr. Young
there? Will you please tell him he has a visitor in the office?
Thank you.”

She replaced the phone and smiled at Neil. “He’ll be

down in a minute. Have a seat if you want. I’ve got to get
these field trip request forms copied before one o’clock.”

Neil thanked her but opted to stand. He hadn’t had to

do a lot of crawling under cars yet that day—it was only
lunchtime—but he always felt dirty coming from the garage,
especially when he thought of sitting in one of the school’s
upholstered visitor’s chairs. He was afraid he’d leave a
black, greasy smudge one day and wouldn’t that just be
embarrassing?

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4

He heard Simon coming before he saw him, heard the

familiar voice echoing off the walls of the lobby outside the
office. There was another voice too; male, and Neil didn’t
recognize it despite knowing almost everyone in the school
administration. Simon was laughing as he came through the
door of the office, his body momentarily obscuring his
companion. A real laugh, too, not one of Simon’s
professional, polite chuckles. Neil felt a momentary twinge
of jealousy; Simon didn’t often laugh like that, and Neil liked
being able to claim he was the only one who could get such a
reaction out of his lover.

“Neil!” Simon’s obvious delight in seeing him, his eyes

lighting up behind his reading glasses—and how stupid was
it that Neil loved those glasses and thought they were the
sexiest things ever?—went a long way to soothe that small
bit of envy.

“You left your lunch,” Neil said, holding up a personal-

size insulated cooler. He suspected Simon intentionally left
his lunch on the counter at least once a week to give Neil an
excuse to come by and see him so they could have lunch
together. Well, he didn’t suspect, he knew. They’d never
talked about it, but they didn’t need to. Simon never forgot
anything accidentally. If he forgot, it was on purpose.

“Thank you for bringing it to me,” Simon said politely,

eyes flickering past Neil for a moment before returning to his
face. It was obvious from his body language that someone
was behind Neil, and from the cool note to Simon’s voice, not
someone he felt comfortable being affectionate around,
which meant only one person: the new principal. Neil didn’t

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5

move, but he felt unease creep over him. Simon wasn’t the
only one who didn’t know how to take Principal Jeffries’s
politically correct yet ultimately dismissive attitude toward
their relationship.

Just then, Neil noticed the person behind Simon—

presumably the person who had been making him laugh—as
he moved further into the room. The young man was about
Mindy’s age with dirty blonde hair and an open, eager smile.

“Neil, this is Peter Sumner. He’s new in the art

department.” Simon grinned. “Peter, this is Neil Garfield.”

Neil raised his eyebrows when Simon didn’t specify

their relationship, but he guessed it wasn’t necessary when
Peter smiled and said, “Mr. Young has told me so much
about you.”

Neil smirked when Simon squirmed uncomfortably at

the “Mr. Young.” He was all right with it from his students—
it was expected—but he hated for other faculty to refer to
him that way. On more than one occasion he’d grumbled
that it made him feel old. Nevermind that he’d been in grad
school when he’d met Neil in 1979. Simon wasn’t going to
admit being old anytime in the next decade or more.

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Sumner,” Neil said, much

more formally than he really had to, just to be contrary.

With an expression that was a half-second away from

rolling his eyes, Simon addressed Neil. “Let me get Peter
settled with admin about this field trip of his, and we’ll go
have lunch.”

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6

Neil nodded and waited just a few minutes while

Simon made sure both Mindy and Peter knew what they
were up to and then followed Simon out to the visitors’
courtyard where they had their weekly lunches.

“How’s work today?” Simon asked as they sat at a

table, unwrapping their sandwiches. Simon made them
himself that morning and had cut them in half as he usually
did. Neil watched with fond amusement as Simon traded
one of his triangles for one of Neil’s. Sharing sandwiches
was just one of Simon’s adorable quirks.

“Slow.” Neil opened the Tupperware container of

grapes and apple slices and set it between them. “It’ll pick
up in the afternoon, though. Moms bringing their cars in for
an oil change before they pick up the kids for soccer
practice, that kind of thing.” He popped a grape in his
mouth and chewed it, swallowing before he asked, “How are
the kids?”

Their life had a rhythm, a certain predictability that

Neil couldn’t decide if he loved or hated. He and Simon had
been together for thirty years, a hell of a lot longer than he
had imagined or even particularly wanted back when they’d
met. While Neil had never exactly considered himself a slut,
he definitely hadn’t been looking for a monogamous
relationship. It came looking for him in the form of a
buttoned-down, bespectacled grad student who was just this
side of prissy.

Not his usual type at all, but maybe that’s what made

Simon Young so attractive. That and the way he was trying

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7

to stand up to a couple of guys who were more than twice
his size. That was back when Neil was playing blues and
rock ‘n’ roll on his old electric guitar in basement bars
around the city.

Neil had just finished his set, and some chick with

crazy blonde hair and ripped jeans had gotten up to sing
next. The bar owners didn’t pay him much; he got free beer
and whatever the patrons gave him in tips. Tips had been
pretty lousy that night, and the free beer was sounding like
the best idea he’d heard in ages. All he’d wanted was to have
a quiet drink and then to go home. He was too tired to go
out bar-hopping, looking for tricks. If there wasn’t anyone at
the current venue who piqued his interest—and he didn’t see
anyone who did—he was on pretty good speaking terms with
his hand.

Neil nodded to the bartender as he slung one long leg

over the stool.

“Bottle or draft?” the man asked him in a tone that

was somewhere in the neighborhood of polite. Bartenders
didn’t like serving someone who wasn’t paying and probably
wouldn’t be tipping. Not that Neil didn’t believe in tipping; it
was just that nobody else in the club did, if the lightness of
his pockets was anything to go by.

“Draft, please.”

Just as the pint of dark, bitter brew was set in front of

him, a body came crashing into his elbow, splashing the beer
over his old leather jacket and his white shirt. That had

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8

been the only shirt he owned that wasn’t stained in a similar
manner, and the frustration of that only increased the stress
of his night.

“Hey, watch it, asshole,” he’d growled, shoving against

the man who’d fallen against him. “Christ.”

Low, cruel laughter alerted him to the fact that

perhaps all was not as simple as he’d first thought. Maybe
this wasn’t just some clumsy drunk getting into his personal
space. He looked up into a pair of frightened pale green
eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever even noticed the color of
anyone’s eyes before, but these reminded him of the color of
the ocean just off the beach at Destin. They were set in a
delicate face with skin that was turning rapidly pink, and the
combed-down hair, the scholarly-looking eyeglasses, and the
buttoned-up Oxford—with a tie, for chrissakes—gave away
that this young man was way out of his element.

“That’s right,” said a deep voice that drew Neil’s eye

past the schoolmarm-type in front of him. Two guys stood
there, arms crossed over their chests, looking gleeful. One of
them was missing two of his front teeth, but the gap didn’t
stop him from grinning.

“Go running to your sugar daddy if you think he can

help you,” Gap-Tooth taunted. The S in sugar whistled a
little, reminding Neil of a cartoon beaver he’d seen in a movie
as a kid.

“Excuse me, you got a problem?” Neil asked, standing

up from his stool and taking a step to the side, putting the

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

9

hapless young man behind him. Neil wasn’t a bruiser like
either of these two, but he’d been in his share of scrapes, the
back alley kind that came from surviving on the streets as a
teenager. The scar over his eyebrow and the one on his jaw
bore witness. There was a heavy pint glass and a couple of
barstools within easy reach; he figured he could distract
them long enough to give the kid a head start. Neil might get
the shit pounded out of him, but it wouldn’t be the same as
letting that little slip of nothing get beat to a pulp.

“Yeah,” Gap-Tooth’s uglier twin responded

uncreatively. “We got a problem with fags bein’ in our bars.
They got their own hangouts.”

If they were hoping to get a rise out of him, they were

going to have to try a lot harder. He’d been called worse
than that by his mom and pop the day they’d kicked him
out.

Gap-Tooth looked Neil over carefully and sneered.

“You a fag too?”

“You better hope you never find out,” Neil said, leaning

back just enough that he knew he could grab the pint glass.
“You’d hate to have to tell the triage nurse that a fag busted
out all your teeth. What you got left, anyway.” He licked his
lips, exaggerating the motion to make it look as dirty as he
knew how. “Bet that mouth of yours sucks a mean dick,
with that convenient gap right in the mid—”

He never got a chance to finish. Gap-Tooth took a

swing that missed Neil’s ear by a half-inch, and Neil’s hand

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10

closed around the pint glass, bringing it around to smash
into the man’s head.

“Run, kid!” he yelled, reaching back for the poor guy

who’d gotten them into this. His fingers closed in the cloth
of the Oxford shirt, and he gave the guy a shove toward the
door. “Get outta here!”

Gap-Tooth’s friend was moving in to settle his debt

while Gap-Tooth knelt on the floor, broken glass all around
him while he shook his head slowly, trying to clear it. Little
bits of glass stuck in the side of his face, bright specks of red
vivid against his skin. Neil remembered how every sense
went sharp and everything else sort of faded away.

When it was over, he could hear sirens in the distance.

He grabbed his guitar and fled before the cops could get
there. No way was he sitting through that. Gap-Tooth and
his buddy were on the floor, barely conscious. And the guy
in the glasses who he’d gone to all this trouble for? He
waited for him right outside the bar, walked up and
introduced himself like they were at high fucking tea.

“Simon Young. Look, you’re bleeding, and it’s my

fault. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Neil hadn’t even known he was bleeding ’til the kid—

Simon—pointed it out, but he sure as hell wasn’t setting foot
in a hospital, especially not if it meant leaving his bike here.

“Thanks anyway,” Neil said, taking a step back. “But

I’ll be fine. Have a good night, and stay safe.” He slung his

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11

guitar over his back, straddled the bike, kicked it into gear,
and roared down the road.

Halfway home, he pulled over and got off the bike, and

then stalked back to the car that pulled over behind him.
The one that had been following him since he left the bar.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Simon Young leaned out the driver’s side window,

stubbornness written on every line of his face.

“Following you home, what does it look like? You’ve

got a head injury, and I’m not entirely convinced you should
be driving, but if you insist on it, I’m at least going to follow
to make sure you don’t die in a ditch somewhere on your
way home from saving my life.”

Neil had opened his mouth to argue and then snapped

it shut again. He threw his hands up in the air and rolled
his eyes. “Sure. Fine. Whatever floats your boat, buddy.”

Simon hadn’t exactly moved in that very night, but

he’d never really left either. Neil had found it surprisingly
hot when he discovered that Simon was a tiger underneath
all those stuffy clothes, and there was something about
Simon wearing his glasses while they were having sex that
really did it for him.

In fact, when Simon had gotten seriously ill the last

year of grad school, three years after they’d met, Neil was so
crazy in love with the guy that he’d sold his gorgeous Indian
Chief to help pay the bills.

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12

Now, here he was, sitting in the courtyard of a high

school campus, eating turkey on rye and listening to Simon
talk about the teenagers in his music theory class. Not quite
the rockstar he’d hoped to be when he was twenty-two but
probably a lot happier and definitely a lot healthier.

“Earth to Neil.” Simon waved a hand in front of his

face.

“Sorry.” Neil laughed. “I was just thinking about how

we met.”

“You mean the night my blind date stood me up and I

nearly got us both maimed for life?”

“Something like that.” Neil grinned at him.

“Good time to think about it.” Simon gave him an

imperious look, but Neil refused to rise to the bait. He knew
very well the next day was their anniversary; he had
reservations at a restaurant in Tallahassee that Simon liked
and plans to spoil him a little. Or a lot. A hotel room with a
Jacuzzi for a start. Neil had been taking overtime for
months to pay for that little adventure.

“I have a confession about that night.” Simon looked

momentarily devious, and Neil’s eyebrows arched. No way
was he going to confess to orchestrating that fight, was he?
Simon leaned forward and whispered, “I thought you were
insanely hot.”

Neil snorted and sat back. “Not a secret, babe.” He

paused for a moment when a thought struck him. “Wait. Are

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13

you telling me the reason you followed me home wasn’t
because you were playing Good Samaritan, you really were
just looking to get laid?”

“Busted.” Simon winked and Neil shook his head.

“What can I say? Hot, muscular guitarists who get beaten
up defending my honor just do it for me.”

“Glad we don’t know any of those then. I’d hate to

have to train a new husband this late in the game.”

“Bastard.” Anything else Simon had been going to say

was lost when the first bell chimed, signaling the end of
lunch period. Neil could hear the chaos of students filing
out of the cafeteria and heading for the lockers.

“I’d better get going,” Neil said, glancing at his watch

as he proceeded to gather up the remains of their lunch.
“Cars to fix, unsuspecting housewives to ogle, that sort of
thing.”

“Mmm,” Simon purred. “My own personal grease

monkey. Maybe I’ll bring the Prius in to get the oil changed
after classes, and you can ogle a fully suspecting
househusband.”

Neil snickered, and Simon stood, leaning in for a kiss.

He hesitated at the last moment, his eyes darting to
somewhere over Neil’s left shoulder.

“Dammit,” Simon hissed. “I’m really starting to dislike

our new principal.”

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14

Neil glanced over his shoulder to where Simon was

looking, and saw Principal Jeffries watching them with sharp
frown on his face. Feeling more than a little rebellious, Neil
turned back and gripped the back of Simon’s head, dragging
him in for a hard kiss.

Simon was flushed when he pulled back, though

whether from embarrassment or excitement Neil couldn’t
tell.

“Love you, babe,” Neil said, placing another kiss on

Simon’s mouth, this one quick and chaste.

“Love you too.” Simon plucked the last piece of apple

from the Tupperware as he handed the container back to
Neil. “See you tonight.”

S

IMON

didn’t bring the Prius in after all, but then, Neil

hadn’t really expected him to. It didn’t stop him from
keeping half an eye on the new arrivals, though.

The garage closed at five on Fridays, and the house

was still dark and empty except for their silver tabby when
Neil got home at quarter ’til six. He wasn’t too concerned;
while Simon tried to leave a little earlier on Fridays, it wasn’t
uncommon for him to stay at the school until seven with a
private music lesson or getting something in order for the
band.

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15

However, he couldn’t help remembering the kiss he’d

given Simon in front of the stuffy principal earlier that day
and hoped his lover wasn’t having to stay late to be
reprimanded about ‘flaunting’ his ‘sexuality’ at school. Neil
could just imagine it. Not that we have any problem with
your lifestyle, Mr. Young, it’s just that this behavior is
inappropriate in front of the students.

When his phone rang an hour later and the caller ID

said it was Simon, Neil answered it quickly with a small
twitch of trepidation.

“Hey, babe, where are you? Did you fall into the

tuba?”

“Um, Mr. Garfield? Hi. It’s Peter Sumner. We met

earlier today at the school.”

Every sense instantly on alert, Neil was already looking

for his shoes and keys. “What is it? Where’s Simon? Is he
all right?”

“Simon—Mr. Young—is just fine, Mr. Garfield. He

wanted me to call and tell you not to worry, he’s going to be
a little late tonight.”

Neil held the phone away from him momentarily,

looking at it as if it had just bitten him on the ear. What the
hell?

“Any reason he can’t tell me that himself?”

“Um, I really can’t… he just said to call and tell you. I

promise everything’s all right.”

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16

“Put him on the phone.”

“Mr. Garfield—”

“Put. Simon. On the phone. Now.”

There was some scuffling, some sound of muffled

voices talking, then Simon very faintly saying “Excuse me” to
someone. A moment later, his voice was loud and clear in
the earpiece.

“Hey, sexy. Listen, don’t hold dinner for me, I’ve got

some stuff to take care of, came up all of a sudden. I’ll be
home before midnight. Love you, bye!”

Before Neil could say anything else, the line went dead.

That little shit had hung up on him.

I

T

was eleven thirty when Neil felt Simon crawl into bed

behind him, trying to be stealthy. Neil waited until Simon
had settled under the covers before he flipped over and held
Simon down by the shoulders.

“Neil! What—”

Neil put his nose close to Simon’s mouth and took a

long sniff. “Well, you haven’t been drinking, so where the hell
were you?”

Simon shoved him back. “Get off me, you big lug. I

was out.”

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17

“I know that. I thought you were coming right home

after work.”

“I called and told you—”

“No, you had Peter call and tell me.”

Simon huffed out a very loud breath. “It’s nothing

bad, baby, I promise. I was going to save it for a surprise
tomorrow, but if it’ll make you feel better, I can show you
now.”

“Show me what?”

“What I was out getting, you dumbass.” Simon threw

back the covers and started to stand.

Neil caught his wrist. “Don’t worry about it,” he said,

contrite. “Just come back to bed. We can go see it in the
morning.”

“No, no. I want you to see it now, so you’ll know I

wasn’t out just having fun without you.” Simon pulled his
wrist out of Neil’s hand and got out of bed, stalking out of
the room, his soft pajama pants making a swishing sound
over his bare feet and the carpet.

Neil sighed and followed him. Simon paused at the

door and looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. “You going
outside like that?” he asked, looking pointedly at Neil’s bare
groin.

“We’re going outside?”

“Yes.”

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18

Neil shifted as he considered it, more worried about

the cool night air on his tender parts than about the
neighbors seeing him swinging in the breeze. It was almost
midnight, after all; if he couldn’t be naked in his own yard in
the middle of the night, when could he?

Then he thought of the family who lived next door.

Shari was one of Simon’s students and could probably do
without seeing her teacher’s partner flaunting his stuff.

“Hang on a minute.”

Neil hurried back to the bedroom and pulled on a pair

of boxer shorts. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep
him decent and hopefully protect the family jewels from a
little spring frostbite.

Properly attired, he followed his lover out the back

door and onto their covered double carport. Both cars were
parked there; Simon’s Prius was still ticking softly as it
cooled. Simon reached over and flicked the light switch.
When the single bare light bulb lit up, Neil could see that
between the cars was a small, bicycle-shaped lump under a
new-looking dustcover.

“Wha—”

Simon reached out and pulled back the tarp, revealing

a shiny black and yellow motorcycle. Neil blinked once, then
twice, feeling his breath stick in his throat.

“It’s not the same one,” Simon hurried to explain. “It’s

a ’47, not a ’46, but the paint job is similar. I’ve been saving,

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19

and I had feelers out forever, and I finally found this one just
yesterday. One of my friends called to tell me it was being
sold as part of an estate sale. It was supposed to go on
public auction tomorrow, but I talked them into letting me
just buy it tonight. Their daughter’s going to be in my class
next year.” Simon grinned sheepishly, but there was an evil
glint there too. “I don’t think they knew what they had.
You’d never believe what they let it go for.”

“I… I don’t—”

“Peter and I took it over to his girlfriend’s brother

who’s a mechanic, and we got it checked out to make sure
it’s still good, make sure it’s safe, that kind of thing. Peter
has a truck. It wouldn’t fit in my Prius.”

“No, of course not….”

Neil was still just staring at the Chief, and now Simon

was staring at him.

“Honey, is it okay? Did I—”

“God, Simon.” Neil turned and grabbed his partner,

forcing his mouth wide with a hard, enthusiastic kiss.
Simon groaned and fell back a step before he found his
balance, his hands going to Neil’s bare torso. They were
both panting by the time they pulled back, and Simon gave
him a cheeky grin, his glasses askew. He’d never gotten a
chance to take them off when he came to bed. Neil had
accosted him first.

“So you like it?”

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20

“Babe, I love it. Almost as much as I love you.”

Neil turned, keeping one arm around Simon’s waist as

he ran the other hand reverently across the fender and then
across the trademark Indian chief’s head mounted on the
headlight.

“I can’t believe you bought me a bike.”

Simon shrugged, and Neil felt the first hint of

discomfort creep into his partner’s body.

“Well, you know.”

Despite the vagueness of that statement, Neil did

know. He kissed Simon again.

“What do you say we take it for a ride?”

“Neil, it’s midnight. That thing will wake up the whole

neighborhood. Plus, we’re hardly dressed—”

“Not that kind of ride, babe.” Neil could feel the

wolfish quality of his own grin as he turned Simon, backing
him toward the bike. He started tugging on the elastic band
of Simon’s pajama pants as they moved, encouraging
Simon’s hands to push down his own boxer shorts.

“Neil, our carport isn’t closed in. What if someone is

awake or comes home late or—”

“Shh, baby. We’re between the cars. Nobody can see

us.”

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21

He’d gotten Simon’s pants down around his knees by

then, and Simon obediently kicked out of them as Neil
helped him straddle the bike. Neil shimmied out of his
boxers as quickly as possible and swung his leg over the
wide leather seat, facing the tail, and slid down until he was
braced comfortably against the gas tank and handlebars.

“C’mon,” he said, hands on Simon’s hips as he tugged

his lover forward. He wouldn’t try full penetration in this
position—too much potential for pain and disaster, not to
mention they didn’t have lube anywhere nearby—but it
would feel amazing just to have Simon rubbing up against
him like this.

Simon got the idea and moved into him, sliding

between Neil’s legs and lifting the right one over his hip to fit
them together.

“We never got to do this on the old bike,” Neil

observed, panting a little as Simon began to thrust,
awkwardly at first until they found their balance on the
machine.

“Not for lack of fantasizing on my part,” Simon assured

him, moving more confidently now.

Damn if that didn’t send a spark of excitement

shooting straight down Neil’s spine. “You… plotting… little…
devil,” he gasped. Simon’s hand slid between them and
squeezed both of their cocks together. Neil couldn’t
remember the last time he’d gotten this hard this fast.

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22

Screw Viagra, he thought fervently. All you need is a

really hot teacher in glasses and a sexy motorcycle.

“Mmm,” Simon agreed. Neil tugged him down so that

he could kiss him, groaning into Simon’s mouth as he felt
Simon’s thumb rub just under the head of his cock.

Neil’s legs were starting to ache, one of them slung

over Simon’s hip, the other braced on the cold concrete floor
to keep them from toppling the bike over. The muscles in
his stomach jumped and fluttered, and his pulse was
throbbing against his Adam’s apple. Sex on a motorcycle
was a lot more work than he’d thought it would be back
when he was twenty-something, but—like most things in his
life—it was really fucking worth it.

Simon’s thrusting had slowed now, just his hand

shuttling slowly up their cocks and his breath warm and
moist against Neil’s face.

“I love you,” Simon whispered, and Neil had to shut his

eyes against the flood of sensation.

“God, baby.” He clutched at Simon’s back, one hand

sliding down to his ass and pulling them tightly together.
The bike tilted just a little away from the kickstand as they
overcompensated, but Simon’s hand shot out and braced
against the Prius, steadying them. “I love you so much.”

Simon kissed him, hot and wet, all tongue, and Neil

laughed into the kiss, pure happiness bubbling inside him.

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23

“Who knew,” he said as Simon moved down,

breathless with Simon’s oral assault on his neck and manual
manipulation of his cock, “that when I met you in that bar
all those years ago, that stuffy little grad student would turn
out like this.”

“Who knew,” Simon agreed, licking against the hollow

of his throat before he paused to suck up a hicky in that very
spot, “that being stood up on a blind date and getting
harassed by a couple of homophobic assholes could give me
the best thing in my life?”

“I think I got the better end of that deal,” Neil

protested, not really sure if the words were coming out in
English. He was pretty sure the part of his brain that
controlled language was currently melting out his ears.

Apparently Simon’s was too, because he didn’t get a

single argument out of his partner. Neil might have been
offended if he’d had any energy to spare for such petty things
like personal pride when Simon’s hand was moving like that
and he was this close to coming harder than he could
remember since the time they’d played with the candle wax
on their eighth anniversary….

“Oh God! Simon!”

“Neil!”

They shook hard in each other’s arms, Simon coming

just a beat after Neil, both of them jerking against each other
in the shocks of orgasm. They managed to keep the bike
upright, though Neil thought that was a miracle, and when

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

24

they could finally breathe again, Simon began to reluctantly
unstick himself from Neil.

“Mm, baby.” Neil leaned up, his back aching faintly,

and pressed a kiss to the underside of Simon’s jaw.

They were just settling in for some serious post-coital

making out when they heard the door slam next door and
went completely still.

“Mr. Young? Mr. Garfield?”

“Shit,” Simon hissed against Neil’s mouth. “It’s Shari.”

“Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine, Shari,” Simon called out, trying not to

wake any more of their neighbors.

“Are you sure? I thought I heard yelling.”

Neil could hear her footsteps in the yard now, coming

closer, crossing the small patch of gravel that served as the
edge of her driveway.

“We’re sure,” Neil said, wondering if it would be better

to stay where he was or scramble for his boxers. Considering
the bike, he chose to opt away from any sudden movements.
“Thanks for checking on us.”

Neil could just see her blonde hair shining in the

moonlight over the roof of the Prius.

“No problem,” she said, still sounding a little

uncertain.

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

25

“Thanks, Shari. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

Simon smiled at her in the dim light from the bulb over their
heads. Neil hoped she couldn’t see through the Prius’s
windows very well. “Make sure you get that music history
homework done by then.”

The magic word homework seemed to do the trick, and

Shari started backing away toward her house.

“Sure thing, Mr. Young. See you Monday.”

They waited until Shari was safely back in her house

before Simon collapsed against Neil’s chest, laughing softly.

“Oh my God,” Neil said, vaguely horrified at the idea

that their teenage next-door-neighbor had almost seen them
naked. On a motorcycle.

“Happy anniversary, honey.” Simon snickered, and

Neil pinched his behind in retaliation.

“All these years later and still getting me in trouble,”

Neil said, shaking his head as they carefully untangled
themselves from each other and stood. Neil took his boxers
and made sure there weren’t any semen stains on the leather
seat before he recovered it with the tarp. With that taken
care of, he slid the boxers on over his sticky skin and
winced.

“Let’s go have a shower and go to bed,” he suggested.

“Then tomorrow we can take it for a real ride. The kind
where you drive it on the road.”

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

26

“You can,” Simon said, pulling on his pajama pants

with a wary glance toward Shari’s house. “I think I’ve had
about all the biking experiences I can take for a while.” He
started toward the house, pausing at the door to turn off the
light and wait for Neil to catch up. “Shower experiences, on
the other hand….”

Neil followed him inside and shut the door on their

laughter.

Happy anniversary, indeed.

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

27

M.

J

ULES

A

EDIN

has been telling stories for years. It’s just

that in the beginning, she got put into timeout for them.
She’s aiming for a career in advocacy, but in the meantime
she and her calico Maine Coon make a peaceful existence in
South Carolina.

Visit her blog at http://mjaedin.livejournal.com/.

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

28

Still Crazy ♥ M. Jules Aedin

29

Still Crazy ©Copyright M. Jules Aedin, 2009

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others.
No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the
publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760
Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America
June, 2009