Tag: gay marriage

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

vscotrip:

When you come home to quiet, your first thought is alarm. You expect chaos. Expected it. Embraced it. Adjusted to it. The new norm. You had gone on an errand to get groceries and diapers and like, a nice latte to go, because you had to get out of the house. You felt a bit guilty cause you know your husband felt the same way. But man you were about to go insane. There was fresh snow outside, so it was too cold to open a window. You needed the fresh air.

Thankfully the fridge was basically empty. You two had been surviving off the congratulatory casseroles from the adoption party. Spencer was smart. He suggested freezing a lot it so you could eat it when we needed it, prevent spoilage. Just one of the thousand reasons why you married him, and started a family with him.

Caroline wasn’t a newborn really, but she was still a baby. You were both pretty stunned you got a baby. The black gay couple new to parenting doesn’t get offered emergency placement babies first. Not in this town, no Sir. But you and Spencer got lucky. She had rare corneal issues and couldn’t see very well.
Future surgery was certain.

Years of medical bills and therapy lay ahead. So she got passed over. Spencer likes to say she was waiting for us. When we walked in the room at Child Services, she held her hands out immediately at the sound of his voice.

Of course her first two weeks home were rough for her. New people. New sounds. New place. New noises. She didn’t sleep regularly. So neither you nor Spencer slept regularly. She was always crying. You still loved her to pieces.

You set the (reusable) grocery bags on the mudroom floor and tilted your head. Not a sound. You kicked off your snowy boots, hung up your coat, and pushed your feet into your slippers. Not a sound at all.

“Spencer?” Silence. You walk into the living room and stop. You see legs – adult legs – sticking out of the playpen at a weird angle. You stare. You walk over. You burst out laughing and slam your hand over your mouth to not disturb them.

Spencer got Caroline to sleep. She liked being in the play pen, but could never fall asleep in there , but it seemed Spencer found a way to keep her satisfied and get her a nice nap. Good lord, is that precious. Of course you took a few photos. Good lord, what a good Daddy he is. His hands cradled her body. She’s out like a light. You watch them for a good ten minutes before you remember the milk and eggs are still sitting out.

You put away the groceries as quietly as you can. You tidy up. Get a load of laundry together. Reset. This is a marathon. Not a sprint. You’re a team. When Spencer gets up, you’ll take a nap. He’ll make dinner. The counters are clean and it’s ready to go.

You can do this, you tell yourself. You put your hands on your hips. Ok, but you are seriously cracking a window because god it is stuffy in here.

The window makes a creak.
“Daniel?” comes a dry voice.
“Yes Spencer?”
“Oh you’re back. Just wanna make sure no one’s breaking into the house.”
“Nah just getting some fresh air in here.”
“Good idea. Stuffy. I need ten more minutes ok?”
“Ok babe,” you say. “Love you both.”
“Love you too.”

You sit on the sofa and read that National Geographic you’ve been meaning to read, but doze off halfway through. Sometime later, you wake up to plantains frying on the stove. Spencer singing to Caroline in the kitchen. You drift in and out, listening to him sing along to the portable speaker, until he calls you for dinner.

Dinner was great, but the intimacy you and Spencer shared that night was even better. Amazing what happens when you have some energy.

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Captions are 100% fictional.

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“Honey, I’m home!” Joe called out.
Quint emerged from the rear of the cabin to greet him. “Welcome back~” He touched Joseph’s elbow and kissed his scruffy cheek. “And this is your friend you told me about who wanted to see the house?”
“Quint, this is my co-worker Al.”
Al held out a thick hand. Quint offered his slimmer one. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I have always wanted to know who keeps Joe together.”
Quint giggled “It’s a full time job.”
“Hey.”
“I still love you honey. I set out some snacks and some beers for you two on the coffee table, I’ll be in the laundry room if you need me.”
“Thanks, love.”
Al watched Quint float out of the room on long legs clad in slim denim. A red sweater hugged his torso, a bit of skin showed.
They sat down and cracked the beers. Al leaned back on the sofa and admired the decor. “You know, Joe, when I found out you weren’t into women, it was a massive shock… but I think I see why now. If I met a woman who kept a home like this and wore jeans like that, I’d marry them too.”

That got a roar of a laugh out of Joe. “I’ll take that as a compliment! Yeah, Quint’s one of a kind. I mean, those legs and that ass, yes, but we balance each-other really well. I build the house, Quint made a home. I work myself stupid, Quint makes sure I eat healthy and have clean laundry and yells at me to take it easy.”
“You don’t take it easy though.”
“What you see IS me taking it easy.”
Al chuckles. “Does he work?”
“He does, actually, he works part time at the art museum in the administration office.”
“Well that works out.”
“It does. I like having him around.”
“Having him around.” Al snorted. “I can just tell by the look on your face when you talk about him that you’re completely smitten with him.”
Joe shrugged with a cockeyed grin. “I couldn’t marry him fast enough.”
“Aww… you think I’ll find a girl like that one day?”
Joe looked at Al. “If you shave your mustache, yes.”
“Never! This is classic, girls love it…”

The conversation drifted from dating to the cabin’s construction and logging, so Quint drifted back into the laundry area and stopped eavesdropping from the kitchen. The blush on his cheeks had spread to his chest and the sweater was holding in all the warmth. Joe was always reserved in being direct about his affection, preferring to showing it rather than telling it. Quint had learned to read his signals and facial expressions.
He couldn’t believe his Joe spoke about him like that to his co-workers!

Quint hugged his arms around himself. He wanted to keep Joe’s compliments inside his heart forever. And he would definitely be wearing these jeans more often if they could even make a straight man notice!

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

kcyang688:

archdigest

When we got married, we had the small ceremony in an old church in a part of town that was still borderline rural. You faced one way at night and you could see nothing but blackness over the meadows and pastures and cattle fences; if you faced the other you could see the lights of the highway in the far distance. That highway replaced the train line that gave this town its existence. All the business went up on the other side of the highway, where the river was, but not down here. Was all quiet down here. Perfect little place to get married. Just thirty minutes away from the farm your husband Silas grew up on. He was not much of a cattleman, but thankfully, he found computers and they gave him a career.

Still, Silas loved this little church from his childhood. I think besides the actual getting hitched part, it was his favorite part of the wedding. It was aging and dry rotted, held up with lots of nails and many coats of paint. The wind whistled through in places. But it felt holy and sacred to him.

Ten years later, we were back in town to visit his ailing mother and we drove past the church. It was abandoned. All boarded up. Silas was saddened. The land was for sale. The sign was faded and stuck in the corner of the plot. I didn’t say anything and my husband didn’t notice it. When we got home, I called the owner and bought it. Dirt cheap. I gave it to Silas as an anniversary present. We moved back from the city where we were miserable and spent the next couple years renovating it and adding on.

Now it’s our home. The day we were “done” – like, “done done” – the day we could stop fixin’ and start living, Silas paused in the center of the vestibule and put an arm around my waist. Buttons, our fluffball of a dog, looked up at us curiously.
“This is our home,” Silas says as he beams with pride.
“It is,” I agree. “Our home.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you for buying it for me.”
“Your happiness is thanks enough.”

I got a squeeze of a hug and a kiss for that. We both paused to admire the work we’ve done.

“Soo…Silas.”
“Yes?”
“Wanna start a family?”

I wish I had a photo of the expression on his face. I mean, what did he think we built those extra rooms for! In time, we did fill them though. We just took some time for ourselves first in our little church, out there, on the prairie. It still whistled a little, but that was my favorite part.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

afaerytalelife:

A Nantucket Summer.

Julian dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. He looked over his shoulder at the car, then out to sea.
“Honey, it’s time to go,” Luke called.
Julian didn’t move right away. He inhaled, filling his lungs with salt air. “Is it really time to go?”
Luke paused. He closed the car door and walked over to where Julian was standing by the fence. His leather slippers made muffled crunching noises as he walked across the gravel interspersed between decorative paving stones. When Luke got close enough, he wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulders. “Did you fall in love with this place?”
Julian sniffled. “Yes.”
“It’s pretty here.”
“Yeah. it is pretty. It’s not just that, though.
“What is it?” Luke asked.
I …I feel more in love with you here, than back home.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” Julian reached up and covered Luke’s hands with his own. “It’s so romantic here. We’re unclothed or naked like all the time. We sleep with the doors and windows open…we make love on the beach. we drink wine on a pier, enjoy an afternoon out on a boat, we eat outside, you make your teaching plans for the fall, I paint like a madman until three in the morning…”
Luke nuzzles Julian’s ear. “It is romantic. But it’s only romantic because you’re here with me – in my bed, on our porch, on the boat, on the beach. In my arms.” He lowered his voice. “Under me.”
Julian shivered.
“But you are also in New York City with me. And you’re the only reason New York is magical to me.”
Julian startled. “Really?”
“Yes. We walk in Central Park together, we drink coffee at cafes, we curl up under the blankets, we buy the first harvest of apples at the Union Square Farmre’s market, we make love as the snow buries us outside…you bring me lunches at the University with paint on your clothes, and you walk me home in the dark after meeting me at the subway station.  It’s…well.”
“Romantic?”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “It is.”
Julian turned around to face Luke and studied him. He had some lines on his face he didn’t use to. With his loose curls pulled back in a short ponytail like that, Julian could really see the greys now. Streaks of them. But Luke didn’t look old. He looked sophisticated and wise. And handsome. Julian rubbed the ring on his own hand with his thumb. He smiled.
“What?” Luke asked, the corner of his mouth going up on one side. His cheeks looked a little pink under the tan. “Why are you smiling?”
“Cause I made the right choice in marrying you. I’ll never love anymore more in my life.” Julian planted a kiss on Luke’s surprised mouth. He slipped away and began to walk toward the car. “Come on honey, we need to get going or we’ll get stuck on the FDR.”
Luke fumbled for words. He felt oddly warm and flustered. “Uh yeah – right, right. Coming.” He gave the ocean one last look, and followed Julian to the car.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Are you serious? You put the milk in before the cereal?”
“Well, sort of. You just put the milk in, and keep adding handfuls of cereal until you’re done eating. It stays crunchy that way.”
“…How did I get all the way to marrying you without realizing this?”
“Well we don’t eat that much cereal, but I think cause you were too busy playing footise with my cock under the table.”
“Oh right… Still, though, bro. That cereal thing. We gotta fix that. Cereal before milk. It’s just how it goes.”
“Nope. Get on my level. Admit your inferiority.”
“Inferiority?? Why I have never been so offended in my life. Cereal before milk is a time honored tradition!”

He pauses. “Are we really doing this? Our first fight as a married couple is going to be over cereal?”
“Oh. Hm. Do you just want to skip to the make up sex?”
“Yeah ok, fine by me. Milk first though.”
“Did you say something under your breath there?”
“Hm? What? No nothing. Grab the lube, babe.”

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flashdoggy:

“There’s a vintage that comes with age and experience.”

Jon Bon Jovi

“Hm.”
“What? is it the lighting?”
Courtney looks up from her camera and makes a face. “No. The photos look like catalogue shoots. These are your engagement shots! You want to feel the love. All I’m feeling right now is a jeans commercial.”
Brandon looks at his fiance and then at Courtney. “Should we move to a new location?”
“Hmm… no I like this location,” she replies, “And the lighting. And the angle. We just need more of an interaction between you guys, I think. Something not so static.”
Kent looks at Brandon. “So…what does that mean?”
Brandon thought. “We could do that stupid game your brother does with his kids.”
“Which one?”
“The got-your-hands thing.”
Kent chuffed through his nose. “That’s for kids.”
“Oh what you think you can beat me?”
“We are not doing this.”
“Ok fine,” Brandon said. He grabbed Kent’s hands with his own. “Fine, get out of my grip then.”
“I can get out fine! I mean …I could… hey let go!” Kent insisted.
“Nope!”

Courtney watched them basically wrestle sitting down. Every time Kent pulled his hands out, Brandon grabbed him back, and Brandon had one hell of a grip. Kent was not prepared for Brandon to have a tactic – twisting the fingers together made it hard to pull away. It got silly fast. They were too busy to notice the camera whirring as the shutter speed fired.

“Let goooo!”
“Nope!”
“Ok fine, tables are turning, now I’m on offense!” Kent shouted.
“Oh god no, you have a way stronger grip!”
“Too bad!”

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

alraunahomestead:

koloniamazurskamierki instagram

(This is a little different than most of my writing, and full of feels.)

November second is the only day of the year I know he’ll be awake before me. I stretch, wash up, and head into kitchen to look for Russel. There’s a tea bag resting in a metal ramekin. I turn toward the living room and find him leaning against the open porch door. He’s got a in both hands. It’s a bit chilly. The dawn sun is streaming, brilliant and beautiful. I wrap my robed arms around myself and walk up toward him.
“Hey,” I say, so I don’t startle him. “Good morning.”
Russel turns to look at me and smiles that sad smile. “Hey there.” We exchange a kiss.
I place a hand on his shoulder and let him contemplate the woods beyond our house.
“Do you want to leave at nine still?” I ask.
Russel nods, distant.
I pat him on the shoulder again and head back into kitchen.

When Russel was 7, he fell through ice over a pond by his house. His older brother jumped in to push him out, but he did not survive himself because he couldn’t get out.
When I started dating Russel, it was in October, so he had to explain to me why it was he turned down a date on November second.

I was the one who proposed the ritual: We get up. We eat nice breakfast. Then, I pack his brother’s favorite meal –  hotdogs and macaroni and cheese with broccoli, and Pepsi – then we drive four hours to the cemetery. Sometimes Russel’s family meets us there. Sometimes they go later. It’s hard for them too.
I lay out the blanket. Then, I sit there and hold Russel’s hand and listen to him tell Brandon everything he accomplished that year and what his brother’s missing out on. At first, it was kind of boring and awkward; but watching the passion and love pour out of Russel has taught me the importance of embracing life and enjoying time with the ones you love. Now, I talk to Brandon too.
Russel and I finish the trip by eating lunch, and then driving back home. Sometimes we’ll stop in town to see a movie, and eat out for dinner. Do something fun and cheerful.

By the time we get home, we’re exhausted and ready for bed. When November third comes? Russel is back to normal and sleeping in like hibernating bear. I have to bribe him with coffee and/or humping him to wake him up. He’s such an interesting man. There’s lots to love about him. I’m glad I married him fifteen years ago. 

I’ve often thought about what our future holds. I wonder which one of us will die first. I’ve decided, that I hope he goes before me. I don’t want him to have to sit in front of two headstones without anyone to hold his hand.

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“So…this is our new house.”
“Yep.”
“And our new bed.”
“Yep.”
“In a new city.”
“Yep.”
“In a new state.”
“Yep.”
“A new chapter in our married life together.”
“Yep.”
“How did we both forgot to buy the sheets for our new queen bed?”
“I think cause we only thought of it during sex, and when we had sex, we were thinking of other important things.”
“Oh. Probably. ….We need a new reminder though for when I go shopping later.”
“Oh. Good idea. I remember where I packed the lube if that helps?”
“It does, actually. Do you know where we put a notepad?”
“Nope.”
“Hm. Sex it is then.”
“Afraid we must.”
“Indeed.”

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Captions are fictional.