Long Time Coming 

 

I've said it before. I'll say it again. It's always the quiet ones who'll surprise you.

I've got to admit Egon's little revelation that night on Christopher left me reeling. It wasn't like I hadn't allowed myself the occasional wet dream about the guy, but finding out that the feeling was mutual was the last thing I'd ever expected. So maybe he was right, thinking it was a good thing that we got interrupted before we could really act on this new information.

Yeah. Right. And then there's too much of a good thing.

Winston had said it was a four-man bust he interrupted us for; we could have used four more, and then some. Excavations on a new subway extension had run into an unmarked mass gravesite from some turn-of-the-century epidemic. The disturbed spirits weren't any too happy about having their eternal rest interrupted; they retaliated by moving upstairs into a brand new one hundred and twenty-story office high-rise.

For the next week we worked around the clock, chasing spooks through cubicles, lunchrooms, bathrooms, basements, and a roof garden. There were so many we had Janine making runs back to the firehouse to empty traps so we didn't run out.

That didn't leave much room for romance, but I made sure I got in a few stolen gropes per day, just to let Egon know I wasn't having any second thoughts.

And believe me, I wasn't. The old Egon was back, sharper than ever. I've never seen him so focused. I got hot just watching him stalk down a hallway.

On the third day, when exhaustion had really set in and things were getting surreal I almost bought the farm.  I wasn't being careless, I was just tired and a Class Four took me by surprise and knocked me over one of the atrium balconies, five floors up. I caught hold of the railing with one hand as I went over, but the angle was wrong and I could have been floor pizza if Egon hadn't been there to pull me up.

We've all done that sort of rescue for each other a hundred times-falling seems to be our number one occupational hazard-- but there was something new in his eyes as he hung over the edge, grasping my wrist-a mix of love and fear and fierce determination-- that lit me up for the rest of the day.

When the bust was finally over a few days later, we all crashed hard, sleeping for hours and dragging ourselves around the firehouse like zombies when we weren't sacked out. Janine switched off the phones, left a new tape in the answering machine, and took Slimer home with her so we could have a real break.

I woke up the second night around 2 am with that off-kilter feeling you get when your sleep cycle is seriously thrown off. Ray and Winston were still snoring across the room, but Egon's bed was empty. I didn't really think there was any need to worry, but the little twinge of alarm I felt was enough to get me out of bed to go check.

Barefoot, I wandered out and saw that the lights were on in the lab. I found Egon sitting at the workbench in his nightshirt and robe, tinkering away with a trap. He had his back to me and I paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of those broad shoulders moving under faded flannel and all that wild, pale, uncombed hair sticking out in all directions around his head. I almost never saw him so disheveled and I liked it. A lot. Suddenly the old sweatpants I had on felt a little snug.

"Work, work, work!" I said, leaning on the doorframe.

Egon jumped, then swiveled around in his chair.  He still looked washed out, but he was smiling. "I'm beginning to think I should put a bell on you."

"You're just not used to being stalked by horny admirers yet." I ambled over to see what he was up to. "You up late or early?"

"Early. I woke up a while ago and couldn't get back to sleep." He noticed the fit of my sweats just then and a little color crept back into his cheeks.

I leaned against the bench, letting him look. "How are you sleeping?"

"Much better. I think I've finally reestablished my REM cycles." He paused, trying not to stare at my crotch. "Since I was awake anyway, I thought I'd catch up on some repairs." He went back to fiddling with the trap but fumbled the screwdriver. It rolled away under the bench.

He reached to take another from the tool rack. It was hard to say for sure with the overhead lights reflecting off his glasses, but I thought I saw a hint of the same odd expression I'd seen on his face that night when we were leaving the Top Hand. It could have been arousal, or it could have been fear. Interesting.

"So, how's the 'problem'?"

"Still making itself known." The second screwdriver spun away across the top of the bench. He put the trap aside and gripped the arms of his chair. "But if you've changed your mind about things, that's all right. Heat of the moment and all that. I'm-I'm fine."

What the heck was this? He had obviously seen my cock saying hello and, unless I was very much mistaken, the salute was being returned, but he was offering me an out. And still not making eye contact.

"Are you having second thoughts, babe?" OK, that was playing dirty, using that little pet name he liked, but at least it got his attention.

"No! Not at all, but-"

"But what?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. Just nervous, I guess. After years of what I imagined to be fruitless longing, I still can't quite believe that you're actually-" He saw my eyebrow go up and backpedaled quickly. "Not that I don't believe you! I do! It was just such a surprise. And-- Well, I'm not quite sure how to proceed."

Oh, baby! I thought, going weak in the knees. "Not to worry, Egon. Let Dr. V take care of that, OK?"

I took his face in my hands and drew him in for a deep kiss. He moaned encouragingly and I felt shaky fingers stroking my face and hair. By the time I stepped back he was already breathing harder. "Hey, I promised you lots of physical therapy, remember? I think now would be a good time to start treatment."

Without waiting for an answer, I closed the door, then walked back to where he sat watching every move I made with glazed, fascinated eyes. "I'll have to ask you to disrobe," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "As in, lose the bathrobe."

He stood and took it off, letting it drop to the floor. Satisfied, I pressed him back down into the chair, then leaned forward between his splayed legs and kissed him again before nipping my way down that long, smooth neck of his. I could feel his adam's apple moving against my cheek as he tried to stifle the little gasps that this provoked.

I'd hardly touched him yet and he was already vibrating like a tuning fork. It was probably time to either slow down or speed up, but I was still playing by ear. As well as I knew him as a friend, as a lover he was still virgin territory. Well, maybe not literally. But I could dream, right?  Anyway, the last thing I wanted right now was a quickie, but maybe he needed something to take the edge off and relax him.

He still had his nightshirt on so I decided to make good use of it. I kissed my way down to the open collar, but didn't unbutton the front. Instead, I followed the edge of it, kissing and licking the exposed skin, not trying to go any further. When I thought he had the idea, I moved to his hands, kissing the palms, sucking his fingers, nibbling my way up to the edge of the sleeves, but no further. The tent he was pitching for me told me what I needed to know. He was digging it, all right.

I was enjoying this game, too. Kneeling, I raised one foot to my mouth and nibbled at his toes, then licked from arch to ankle a few times. He fell back in the chair, mouth open in an expression of wonder, as if someone had just explained the origin of the universe to him and it all made sense.

I did the other foot, just to keep things balanced, then propped both ankles on my shoulders and slid forward under his legs, kissing up the insides of his calves and thighs as I went. When I got to the hem of the nightshirt I stopped and nuzzled the fine golden hairs just above his knees. Genius that he was, it still took Egon a minute to figure out what I was waiting for. Then he slowly pulled the nightshirt up, inch by inch, and I followed.

To his credit, he took his time once he figured out the rules. Up an inch and stop. Up two inches and stop, until I began to wonder who was teasing who.  Finally he lingered just a little too long. I caught his wrists and pinned them against his chest, then burrowed the rest of the way up to his hot, heavy sac. One swipe of my tongue and he lurched in his chair, fighting the grip I still had on his wrists and clamping those long slender thighs around my neck.

"Easy now, relax," I told him, mouth not quite touching his balls. "Come on now, open up for nice Dr. Venkman."

"Peter!" he gasped, trembling. "I-I don't know if I'm ready for this!"

I let go of his hands, but only to free up my own so I could reach under his legs and hike them up over the arms of the chair. "It's all right. I'll go slow. Relax, Egon. Doctor's orders," I crooned, grinning up at him. He did his best and in return I passed over his now nicely exposed ass and throbbing erection and pushed the nightshirt up under his arms to lick his hard pink nipples. This left me pressed full length against him, but he was too awkwardly positioned to make any real use of the fact.

I pulled back and admire the view. He was lying back in the chair with his eyes closed, totally blissed out. I reached up and gently removed his glasses, wanting his body to do all the seeing for him from here on. The sight of his face held me a moment; Egon looked so young, so vulnerable it made me ache. It was as if I was being given a glimpse of that shy young graduate student who'd harbored a secret crush on his clueless jock roommate. His hair hung around his face in wisps and stray locks. His high, fine cheekbones were accented by the hot flush that suffused his face. And that full-lipped, sensual mouth, out of which had issued a million dry verbal jabs and brilliant observations? That mouth was currently softly moaning my name over and over again, like the mantra he'd chanted in his sleep as he'd fought through his nightmares.

"You're beautiful, Egon." I slid my fingers over his fine, prominent collarbones, remembering how easily he'd pulled me back over that railing at the high-rise. How could a man be so strong and so delicate at the same time? Not to mention so intelligent and so inexperienced? It was an incredible combination.

"You are so beautiful, babe," I told him again. "So damn beautiful."

 He started to shake his head in denial but I caught his face between my hands. "Look at me, Egon."

 He groaned and lifted his head to peer myopically down at me. I slid up his chest again so he could see my face as I told him, "You are, Egon. You're also brave and brilliant and good and gorgeous--"

 "No, that's you," he breathed, trying to shake his head again. I held it still and he let out another groan.

 "No, that's you. You'd better listen to me, babe, because I'm not letting you out of this chair until I've made you believe it. Every inch of you, from this wild hair to these huge ticklish feet and every wonderful bit of you in between, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I was rambling now, but it was having the desired effect. I could feel the hard ridge of his cock digging into my sternum.

"You make me beautiful," he murmured dreamily.

That was good enough for now. Sliding down, I grasped his cock at its base with one hand, gathered his balls in the other, and took him down my throat in one hungry gulp, burying my nose in his thick, musky blond bush.

Oh man! I thought, closing my eyes in reverent awe, I'd forgotten how good men taste. And no one had ever tasted as good as this. It was more than that, even. I'm not the world's most introspective guy, but making love to this man was better than anything I'd ever done, and I knew why.  I knew him. I trusted him. We had a history between us that bound us closer than family. I'd told him I loved him before, and meant it but it dawned on me, there on my knees, that I was in love with him, too. A realization like that usually sends me running for the hills, but this felt all right. I'm terrible with words when it comes to expressing stuff like this, so I made up my mind to show him instead, in every way I knew how.

I circled my tongue against his head and he bucked like someone had just hooked him up to a car battery and turned on the ignition. With his legs still over the arms of the chair, he had leverage on his side and for a second he lifted me right off the floor. I dragged him back down and went back to work on that hot, wonderful shaft, hoping I could get him off before I came myself. As soon as he got his breath back, he started panting out, "Oh yes, Peter. Yes, oh god yes. Oh oh Peter . . ." and other philosophical observations along those lines.

It's a good thing the chair wasn't on wheels, but it did start to creak dangerously. I hated breaking the tempo with him so close to the edge, but having a chair collapse under him was not the sort of first-time memory I wanted burned into either of our testosterone-addled brains. Pulling off, I hauled him down to the floor, head pillowed on his wadded up robe, then went back to work with him writhing and moaning under my busy mouth.

A few more minutes went by. He was still hard, still bucking, but hadn't come yet and my jaw was starting to ache. Setting my ego aside for once, I told myself that it was because of the cold floor, that he was still tired, that this was his first time in at least a long time, if not ever, and maybe his mental wiring needed time to readjust. That was all right. I loved him and we had all night, or at least until someone started moving around downstairs. I ran my hands over his legs, his ass and smooth wonderful hips, and on up to his chest. He caught my hand and dragged it up to suck on my fingers one by one. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I didn't have to. I could feel those full, sensuous lips wrapping themselves around my fingers, pulling them into the slick, hot darkness of his mouth. And that tongue! My mind started doing variations on that theme and I had to gently get my hand free or I would have completely lost my concentration.

This is for you, I told him with my own mouth and hands and tongue. This is because I love you and want to please you and make you see heaven up close and personal right here in this inner sanctum of yours.

But I wasn't so caught up in my own fantasy that I didn't notice when he started to sound winded and tired. This was not good.

I was considering other options when he suddenly pushed me over onto my back, wrestled my sweats down to my knees, and took my cock in his mouth. I was still unclear on whether or not he'd ever actually done this sort of thing before. If not, then he was one fast study. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised; what else would you expect from a genius inventor with a proven knack for split-second improvisation? He slid one arm under my legs and lifted me half off the floor, working that hot mouth of his over my cock like he'd been doing nothing else for the past ten years.

Not that I needed much in the way of stimulation. I was already so incredibly turned on that I didn't even have time to warn him before the orgasm hit like a full body tackle. It was one of those when you feel like you're being thrown slowly up into a huge, warm, lemon-colored sun and then evaporating into a floating cloud of pure ecstasy. You know what I mean, right? I didn't do anything so melodramatic as faint, but for a minute there I think I had a certified out-of-body experience.

Apparently swallowing wasn't an issue for Egon. When I finally got my soul back into my body I had to practically pry him off me. My arms felt like overcooked spaghetti and he didn't seem to want to stop, but I finally managed to pull him down and wrap myself around him. The feeling of his heart hammering against mine and his hard cock rocking slowly against my totally sated one sent aftershocks rocketing back and forth between my heart and cock. Another first.

Some small, rational portion of my brain was yelling, "I love you. I want to be with you and protect you and hold you and make love to you until the world ends," but somewhere between there and my mouth it turned into, "Oh baby! Oh Egon, you wild man!" I told you, I'm new at this being-comfortable-with-intimacy thing. He must have sensed what I really meant anyway because he hugged me tight, kissing my face and neck and chest. This sort of mauling sure beat having your lover roll off and snore, but as my brain slowly began to fire on all cylinders again, I knew something wasn't quite right.

Pushing myself up on one elbow, I stroked a hand down his side to his hip and gripped it lightly to keep him still. His nightshirt was still bunched up under his arms; his skin was hot to the touch and streaming sweat. He was breathing hoarsely too, like he had when that incubus had him strapped down. His erection was still there, but starting to fade.

"Thank you, Egon," I told him, leaning in to kiss him again. "That was the best, way beyond mind blowing. But this was supposed to be about you, remember? What happened?"

He lay on his side, head on one arm, eyes shut tight. "It's all right, Peter," he whispered, his voice thin and unsteady in a way I'd never heard before. "It was wonderful for me, as well. You taste fantastic!"

"Yeah, but what about me? I haven't had my vitamins yet." I reached down to stroke his cock but he flinched away and curled up tighter. Nope, not good.

I went back to caressing his side. I could feel a fine tremor starting in him and hoped it was just adrenaline aftershock. "You don't like blow jobs, right? I should have asked before I swooped down on you like that. I'm sorry!"

He sat up and pulled his nightshirt down around his legs again. "I loved it, Peter. I'm sorry I wasn't more responsive."

"Responsive? Hell, I thought you were going to take my head off once or twice. But obviously it wasn't the right prescription."

"Believe me, Peter, it was no fault of yours," he insisted, giving me a sad, soulful smile. "It's been a very long week. I guess I'm more tired than I thought. But it was wonderful, and something I hope you'll try again very soon. Please?"

"I plan to, and someplace more comfortable than this floor." I stood and hauled my sweats up, then held out a hand for him. "Come on, I'm not quite done with you." I didn't miss the brief flash of alarm in his eyes, but he followed willingly enough as I led him down to the TV room couch and pulled him into my lap. Well, not all of him, obviously, since he's taller than I am, but enough of him to get his head on my shoulder and his arms wrapped around my waist. An afghan Ray's Aunt Lois had sent us was within reach and I spread it over us, then settled down for some serious post-coital cuddling.

I didn't care what Egon said; something had gone wrong and I wanted very much to make it up to him. He was the one who should be recovering from an earth-shaking, life-altering, brain-bending orgasm tonight, not me. Or at least not me alone. When it comes to sex, I may not be the most faithful or romantic guy in the world, but I've always been a gentleman when it comes to coming. Who was it that said it's like a Chinese meal? Not over until everyone gets their cookies? Words to live by, my friends. The afterglow was wearing off and guilt was creeping in around the edges.

I spent some time using my fingers to comb his hair into something like its usual strange order, then pressed my lips to his hot forehead. He tilted his head back and frenched me a good deep one, then settled back against my chest with a sigh of apparent contentment.

I swallowed the taste of myself mingled with him and rested my cheek against the top of his head. "Egon, can I ask you something?"

"Mmmmm hmmmm." His voice was already a deep, sleepy rumble.

"Have you ever made love with a man before?"

"Mmmm, yes. Had a brief fling freshman year. Didn't really go anywhere, though."

"What about women?"

He frowned. "A few. Not very satisfactory for me, but I think they enjoyed it."

"I can believe that!" Was I seeing the beginning of a pattern here?  "It doesn't sound like you've gotten much out of it, though."

His eyes opened for a moment as he looked up at me and shrugged. "I'm not a very sexual person, Peter. Surely you've noticed that after all these years?"

Given what we'd been doing five minutes ago, no way was I buying that. I could tell he was about to doze off, though, so I let it go for now. "It's OK," I whispered into his hair. "You rest up. You're going to need your strength."

He let out a sleepy chuckle and hugged me. "The incorrigible Peter Venkman. I really do love you, you know. Have for years and years and years--"

And he was out like a light. I swallowed a lump in my throat and held him close. "I love you, too, babe." 

It was great sitting there like that with him. I know that sounds corny, but "great" is the best and most accurate word for sitting on a couch with Egon asleep in my arms. I closed my eyes, promising myself that I'd get both of us back to our own beds soon, but I needed a few more minutes of this before I could make myself move.

 

I woke up with the morning sun shining in my face. Egon was still curled up against me under the afghan, sound asleep. Through the open door of the TV room I could hear someone rattling around in the kitchen and smell coffee brewing.

My brain did a quick stop/rewind/replay. The TV room door was open. Because I'd left it open when I brought Egon in here last night. Because it didn't matter because we were just going to sit for a while because-

The couch was directly across from the doorway, which meant that there was no way in hell that whoever was up making breakfast hadn't seen us on their way past from the bunkroom. Speaking as a person who's spent most of his life keeping certain details of his personal life at the very back of a very high shelf of a very deep closet, this was a Bad Moment. And doubly so since it involved Egon, too.

It didn't improve any when Ray and Winston walked in with coffee and a plate of doughnuts. Both of them were already dressed. Speaking as a trained professional, I can tell you that this fact alone gave them a significant psychological advantage. In terms less high flown and intellectual, if I could have done a Slimer down through the couch cushions right about then, I would've. Egon, still deep in the sleep of the innocent, remained oblivious to the developing situation.

"Thought you could use this," Winston said, holding out a mug.

I managed to get one arm free of the afghan to accept it, searching his face for a reaction and not getting one. My movement woke Sleeping Beauty and Egon sat up, still too groggy to realize that this was a potential turning point in Ghostbusters history.

Yawning, he peered up and said, "Oh, good morning, Winston. Is there any coffee left?"

Ray handed him the fourth mug without a word.

"Uh, guys, I know this must look a little strange," I began.

"Strange, huh?" Winston exchanged a look with Ray. "Considering the sounds we heard coming out of the lab last night, not really."

This cleared the cobwebs for Egon; he choked on his coffee and turned beet red.

"Yeah," Ray agreed with no sign of his usual sunny good humor. "This old building really echoes. Especially through the heating vents."

Well, this was indeed a bona fide Awkward Moment. With a capital Awk.

Or it would have been, if Ray and Winston hadn't both doubled over laughing just then.

Egon pulled the afghan primly up to his chest. "I fail to see the humor in this situation."

Neither did I. "So I guess there's no point in telling you that we were just up doing a little late night tai chi?" I muttered.

Winston snorted, struggling for control. "Not unless you've got an instructor named 'Oh Baby' who makes house calls in the middle of the night. With a bullhorn!" He collapsed back into the armchair, laughing helplessly and slopping coffee onto the leg of his jeans.

"It's OK, Peter. We'd already kind of figured it out," said Ray, beaming at us now like we'd just announced our engagement. "Winston saw you guys making out a couple of times during the high rise job."

"Where?" I demanded indignantly. We professional closet cases take great pride in our ability to not get caught.

"Greenhouse in the roof garden, for one," Winston told me. "Those things are made of glass, you know, and the plants weren't all that thick."

Damn! I'd very deliberately chosen that bougainvillea arbor to neck behind; the blossoms complemented Egon's eyes. Well, that's where being romantic gets you.

"Then Ray told me about him catching Peter coming out of that gay club and all, back when you guys were in college-" Winston told Egon, cheerfully driving another nail in my coffin.

Ray shot me a guilty look. "Sorry, Peter. It just kind of slipped out. Winston was pretty surprised."

"Back in college?" Egon stared at me. "You mean that Raymond has known about you all this time?"

Raymond? Egon was getting formal, never a good sign. "It was strictly on a need to know basis," I told him, trying to look sorry and cocky at the same time. I don't think I carried it off too well. "I just didn't know that you needed to know, you know?" I finished lamely.

"I suppose you're right," he said, though he still looked miffed. "And perhaps it's for the best that we have this out in the open. Clearly, trying to keep this a secret under our current living conditions would  not have been feasible. I hope-" He faltered and squinted around at the others. "I hope this will not be a problem."

Winston reached over and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "No problem, my man. 'Cept maybe for the late night hallelujah choruses, that is."

One of the many natural advantages of mind-blowing sex is that you don't remember much afterwards except for how great it was. Whatever Egon or I had babbled in the throes of passion, whatever Winston and Ray had heard, it was better I didn't know.

So that was all well and good, and all I wanted now was to get Egon away to a nice hotel room with thick walls and overwhelm him with bubble baths, massages, sex toys, beer, flowers, mold samples, whatever it took until I figured out how to light his fuse. But as has so often been proven, ghosts have shitty timing. The alarm rang while I was still in the shower-yes, I offered to share, Egon declined-and it was off for another marathon day. We started out chasing down a very nimble Long Island poltergeist,  moved on to a creeping shadow in the subbasement of Macy's, finishing up with a bunch of free floating vapors at a kosher hot dog factory near Brighton Beach.  Oi!

By the time we got home that night, we were all too tired to do anything but collapse into our separate beds. Until the alarm lifted us out of bed before dawn, that is, and we were off to the races again. Really. Phantom race horses with demon jockeys-- Never mind.

We were done by three this time, but completely wiped. The closest Egon and I got to an intimate moment was when he fell asleep in the backseat and slumped over against me during a sharp turn. We dragged ourselves upstairs, I remember showering, and then it all gets pretty hazy until I woke up the next morning in my bed with Egon wrapped around me. Ray and Winston were already up.  The alarm clock on my nightstand read 11:45 AM.

Egon woke looking as surprised as I was. "Did I miss something?"

"Not that I'm aware of, big guy. You sleep walking now?"

"Apparently." He smiled and nuzzled my neck. "It appears my subconscious is sending my conscious mind a message."

"I think the messages are coming from someplace a bit lower. So what do you say? The Plaza? The Ambassador? HoJo's? A Red Roof Inn maybe?"

Ray gave a quick knock, then came in with Slimer in tow and flopped down on the end of my bed. "Hey, you'll never believe the call that came in this morning!"

"Really, Ray?" This was just getting too weird. Not the call, but having Ray sitting there-and Slimer floating there-- like finding me and Egon in bed together was a normal everyday occurrence.

"There's a haunted bed and breakfast in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. It sounds like a single Class Two, but they're really anxious to get rid of it. They've offered us a two-night free stay plus the usual fee if we can get out there today."

"And all the cheese curds we can carry, right?" I grumbled, starting to get up. "Great. I'll pack my straw hat and overalls."

"No, that's the great part!" Ray said. "It's an easy job. Winston and I can handle it. We're already packed. Slimer's going to come along and bird dog for us."

"Yeah, mirdbog!" Spud burbled.

"Janine's driving us to the airport now. You guys stay here and mind the store." He gave me a rakish little smirk. "I guess you could even close up for awhile, since we're understaffed. We'll call from the airport when we get back. Have fun!"

Ray's not subtle, but he means well. I waited until I heard the firehouse door slam behind them, then crawled on top of Egon. "Alone at last!"

"Uh, yes," Egon said when I'd taken my tongue out of his mouth. "But I really need a shower. And breakfast. I believe promised I'd cook again."

He scrambled out like the bed was on fire and soon I heard the shower running.

OK, so maybe he wasn't a morning person.

I let him shower in peace, then took one of my own. By the time I was out and dressed, the mingled aromas of coffee and toast smoke were wafting down the corridor.  That, at least, was back to normal. I was halfway to the kitchen when I heard the phone ring.

Egon was on the kitchen extension when I came in, nodding as he jotted something down on a notepad. "Yes, I see. Yes. Really? No. No, I don't see any problem with that. We can be there in a few hours. Stay indoors until we arrive."

I made a polite attempt at Spengler's Patented Carbonized Toast and gave up. "What's up?"

"Haunted orchard on a farm just outside Phillipsburg, New Jersey."

"Egon, that's west Jersey, practically Pennsylvania! It'll blow the whole day!"

"Sorry, Peter, but the lady sounded very upset. Come on, I'll buy you breakfast on the way. Besides, it's a nice day to be outside."

So, despite a lucky twist of fate and Ray's best efforts, we were going to waste an entire day on the road. In Jersey! I did my best to keep my mind on my driving instead of how pissed off I was. Egon was very quiet.

Remember what I said before about being too close and not thinking straight when it comes to him? Hold that thought.

It turned out to be an easy job. We could have left the tree-climbing little gooper there until Christmas and it wouldn't have done any harm. In fact, it took four times as long just to drive out there and back than it did to bag it. This did nothing to improve my mood. I slung the smoking trap in the back end and slouched into the driver's seat while Egon said good-bye to our grateful clients.

He got in and buckled up in silence. I threw Ecto 1 into gear and spun out of the farmyard, kicking gravel and scaring chickens. Mature, huh? Egon stared out the window. We might as well have been in separate cars.

After twenty miles or so of this, I began to feel pretty stupid; this was a classic Pete Venkman reaction, letting the balls rule the brain. The tight set of Egon's mouth and the way he was hugging the door proved that I was only making whatever was wrong worse. And I thought I knew what that was, too, though it hurt my pride to admit it.

A few miles further on I spotted the turnoff for a state park and took it.

Egon roused from his own funk and looked over at me. "Where are we going?"

"Green Lake State Park."

"Yes, I can see that, but why?"

"Like you said, it's a nice day."

The wooded park stretched along the shore of a small lake. As I'd hoped, the parking lot was empty except for one camper with Montana plates and a few hopeful-looking ducks. I pulled in beside the camper and we sat there staring at the lake. Neither of us seemed ready to make the first move and get out. So we sat. I wasn't sure just where to start, but he beat me to it anyway.

"You're angry with me, aren't you?"

"No, Egon, confused. Whatever I did wrong the other night, I wish you'd just tell me instead of playing this hot-and-cold game. I'm not amind reader, you know. You're the one who tested me, remember?"

He stared down at his hands. "I told you before, Peter, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why fly out of bed like that, when we could have given Janine the day off and spent the whole day there? Why take on a two-bit out-of-state job that could have safely waited until next week? Egon, you're avoiding me and I need to know why."

He sighed. "You're right, of course. It's just-  It's difficult. Can we go home, please? I'll explain everything once we get there."

No, I did not want to go home. I wanted to go explore the wonders of Green Lake State Park with him and maybe shock some people from Montana. But the brain was back in gear and so I just reached outand took his hand. "Everything?"

"Yes, everything."

I sort of hoped we'd start talking in the car. Long rides are great for serious conversations, since you don't have to look at each other. But he took a nap instead, leaving me with all sorts of imagined conversations running through my head, most of which ended with him saying something like, "I did mean it at the time, but--"

Still holding that thought?

 

It was almost eight by the time we got back and Janine had left for the day.

Egon got out and stretched, then led me upstairs without a word. I followed, waiting for him to open up. Instead, we ended up in the bathroom, where Egon turned on the shower and started to undress me.

"Egon, you said we'd talk."

He smiled as he pulled my tee shirt off over my head. "Afterwards."

I'm so damn easy it scares me sometimes. All it took now was the sight of those long, wonderful fingers going for my belt buckle and  'afterwards' seemed soon enough. I pulled his suspenders off his shoulders and made quick work of the rest. In the shower we got warmed up nicely but the footing was bad. Egon moved us along to the bunkroom and stretched me out across his bed.

"What do you need?" I asked, reaching up to cup his face. "Tell me, Egon. I just want to make you happy."

"You do." He guided my right hand to his groin. He was hard already.

It occurred to me that extensive foreplay hadn't worked last time, so I got a good grip and started pumping him instead. It was a good call; he went straight to trance state, thrusting against my fist and reaching to do the same for me. That was OK, too, my cock decided. Getting onto my knees facing him, I explored his mouth with my tongue as we hand-jobbed each other. Once again, his touch, his smell, and taste were like some kind of mind-bending drug; before I knew what hit me I was shooting all over him and me and the bedspread. Smiling that secret, happy smile of his, he licked his fingers clean while I continued working him. When my arm got tired, he guided my mouth down on him again and I set out to redeem my reputation as a card-carrying blow job artist. 

This time he was rested and held out a lot longer, but pretty soon it was clear that things weren't proceeding the way I wanted them to. This time I was prepared; there are plenty of tricks up the Venkman sleeve. I stuck a finger into my mouth as I sucked him, then tickled my way back to his butt and worked my finger in. That got a lovely loud gasp out of him. He rode my hand and fucked my mouth like a wild man, but after ten more minutes or so his hardon was shrinking and he was shaking and sweating again. 

I stopped and hugged him tightly against me. "Time to talk, lover. Tell me what you need." He clung to me so tight I could hardly breath, and suddenly I felt tears falling on my bare shoulder. "Hey, hey, what's this? Come on, tell Peter what you need." 

He rocked his head against my shoulder. "I thought it might work this time-- I just can't! I've tried. God knows I want to! But it's too-too-"

I was losing him fast. He looked to be on the verge of another meltdown. There was something he couldn't bring himself to tell me.

"I've tried," he said again, as if that explained everything.

Tried to what? Come? Yes, and instead he'd ended up sending me to the moon again. Just like last time.

I did a quick mental inventory of the past couple of weeks-the bad bust that had started this whole strange ride, the leatherman incubus whipping Egon's ass, the way he'd reacted after, so aroused he couldn't even bear to tell me until I-

Forced it out of him.

Scenes from that rainy night on Christopher came back now, too: the gleam in Egon's eye as I'd manhandled him out of the abandoned club, the way he'd kissed me after I'd jokingly told him who was boss, the way he'd gone nuts when I pinned him up against a wall and kissed him.  Correction: shoved him against a wall, then pinned him.  Like I'd pinned him and held him in that chair the other night before I'd moved down to the floor. And what was it he'd said when I'd first gotten him to talk about the attack? That he'd gotten turned on imagining me "finishing the job."

Bingo, maybe. If I was wrong, this was going to be bad in a big way. But I was pretty sure I wasn't.

I slid my hands down his arms and found his wrists. Grasping them tightly, I slowly brought them up under his chin. "Egon? Baby? I've got an idea. I don't know if you're going to like it, but I'm in charge, so we're going to do this my way."

Startled blue eyes met mine. "What way?"

"No questions. You're just going to do everything I say. You're going to obey me. Got it?"

And there it was again; that glazed, blissed out look I'd seen before, telling me I was on the right track. I pushed him down none too gently down on his back. "Put your hands on the headboard, Egon. Don't move until I say."

He stretched his arms up and grasped the spindles and I could see the pulse beating in his chest and throat. Blood was going south fast, making his cock stand up and be counted.

"Very good." I could feel him watching me as I got up and pulled on my jeans and tee shirt. Psychology, remember? Being dressed put me in a more dominant position and it was working. I looked around for more props. I might be flying blind here, but I'm nothing if not resourceful.

Egon's robe was hanging over the footboard. I pulled the belt free and used it to tie his hands to the spindles. I made a mental note to use my four poster next time-assuming I wasn't making a colossal mistake here and there would be a next time-- but this quick-and-dirty tie down job seemed to be working wonders for now. I made another mental note to call Janine and give her tomorrow off.

This made sense. It was often the buttoned-down, up-tight types with high-pressure jobs who needed this sort of outlet: surrendering to someone else, not having to be in charge for a while. The trouble was, I was quickly getting in over my head. I've never done the B&D scene and was making this up as I went. I stood over him a moment, trying to look tough and stern, then gave up and blindfolded him with a necktie. Judging by the passion flush working its way up his chest and throat and the way he was squirming against the bindings, I was still blundering in the right direction.

I spent some time teasing him, touching him here and there, alternating firm with soft, kissing with biting, licking with doing nothing at all. He arched off the bed and moaned my name at every touch. So far so good. But now what? I searched my memory for every research paper and kink film I'd seen on the subject.  Ice cubes? Hot candle wax? Clothespins? I just couldn't see Egon going for any of that stuff. 

But maybe I could find out.

Kneeling down beside the bed, I put my mouth close to his ear and growled, "Who's in control here, Egon?"

"You are!" he sighed, euphoric.

"And what am I going to do with you?"

"Anything. Anything you want!"

Great. That really narrowed it down.

I ran a finger slowly over his lips until he caught it in his mouth and sucked on it. "Oh no! You're not going to do that, babe. You've done enough of that already. What you are going to do is come for me. I'm not letting you up until you do. The guys will be home in less than twenty four hours, so you better put your mind to it."

It was a good thing we were alone in the house. Not even Slimer should hear the kind of language that came out of Egon at that.

"Oh, but you will," I promised, running my finger slowly down his chest to circle his navel. "And now you are going to tell me exactly what it's going to take to make that happen."

"I don't know!"

"Oh yes, you do. And you're going to tell me. Or are you forgetting who's running this show? I can just walk away right now, you know. As a matter of fact, I think it's time for "Newhart".  I'll be back in half an hour . . ."

"No!" He yelled, practically levitating off the bed. "No, please don't go!"

"So give me a reason to stay."

He was silent for a moment, and even with the blindfold hiding his eyes, I could see him warring with himself over something. The erection meter was still pointing angelic north, though.

"I'm going to count to three, Egon. Then I'm outta here. One. Two-"

"Under the bed!" he gasped out. "There's a-a package. It's-oh my god. Just look."

More puzzled than ever, I bent down and pulled out a plain shopping bag, the kind with handles, from under his bed. Inside there was what looked like a large shirt box, wrapped in black paper and silky black ribbons. There was a small gift card, too, with "For Peter, with love" in Egon's precise handwriting. "This is for me?"

"Yes," he whispered in a small, embarrassed voice. "I hadn't planned-. That is--I just couldn't figure out how to give it to you."

I unwrapped the box, black again, and inside, wrapped in black tissue paper, I found a leather paddle about the size and shape of a ping pong paddle and a short, supple riding crop.

Finish the job, the man had said.  Well, I'd seen weirder forms of therapy- OK. No, I hadn't, but I knew Egon was holding his breath, listening for my reaction. From the look on his face, what he was expecting was the sound of me running screaming from the room.

I sat silent a moment, not to torture him, but to try and figure out how I felt about this new development. It didn't take long, actually.

"Egon?" I purred against his ear, running the paddle across his belly and watching him break out in goose bumps all over. "Dr. Venkman says finish this phrase: "Be careful what you wish for-"

The breath caught in his throat, then he began to smile. "Because you just might get it."

"Turn over, babe."

And so I finally gave him what he'd needed all along, until he was shaking and yelling and begging for mercy. Actually, he was begging me to take him, as in Right Now, and I did that too, but only after making him wait just long enough so he'd think I was still in control of this situation. 

Turns out Egon is a screamer when he comes. We tested this several more times that night, both with and without the help of my new presents, and the results are pretty darn conclusive. We ended up in a very sticky, happy, exhausted heap under his blankets.

"So-- you're not a sexual person?" I said against his shoulder as I spooned in behind him, our favorite position, at least for sleeping. "I believe those were your exact words."

He lifted my hand from his chest and pressed a kiss into my palm. "I stand corrected, Dr. Venkman."

I could have zinged him about being able to sit corrected anytime soon. Under most circumstances, that's exactly what I would have said. But instead, here alone with him in the quiet of the night, I said, "I love you, Egon. I'm in love with you. And I'll always be there for you, no matter what you need."

This time the words must have made it from brain to mouth intact, because he kissed my palm again and replied, "You always have been, Peter. I've always known that, even when I wasn't thinking very clearly. I love you. Forever."

Forever. I went to sleep knowing that this was my new favorite word.

 

Yeah, I know. That makes for a nice, mushy, feel-good kind of ending, but as the man says, "And now for the rest of the story."

Much to my surprise and considerable pride, I woke up late the next morning with a raging hardon in spite of the workout we'd had the night before. Better yet, Egon was already on it, so to speak, and doing a magnificent job. Turns out I'm a screamer, too, under the right man--er, circumstances. A really loud one, as a matter of fact. You can hear me all the way downstairs.

Just ask Janine.

Because it seems that in all the excitement and romance and cuddling of the night before, I'd completely forgotten to call her about that day off.

 

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