Made for Each Other 4

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Three weeks later, Chad dropped the bomb.

“Are you still up for having me move in with you?”

The delight on Blake’s face was all Chad needed to know.

“There’s one thing you’ve gotta do first,” Chad said.

Blake’s face fell.

“Have dinner with me and my parents,” Chad continued.

Blake laughed.

“Is that all?”

Chad spluttered.

“Is that ALL? I’ve never introduced a boyfriend to my parents before!”

Blake rolled his eyes.

“They’re not phobes, are they?” Blake asked.

Chad snorted.

“Not hardly, like I told you, my dad is a history professor, my mom is a librarian,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if you have to be a card-carrying member of the ACLU to get jobs like that…but they all wind up with them!”

Blake stretched.

Damn, he’s getting buff, Chad thought, watching Blake’s skin-tight polo ride up his hard flat stomach.

“Piece o’ cake…”


The seam connecting the polo’s banded sleeve to the underarm burst open.

“Well, damn,” Blake said. “I guess the workouts are working.”

Chad splooged his pants.

“Uh, mmm, ah, well, uh…”

Blake looked his love up and down.

“You didn’t, did you? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it. In fact…”

Blake’s big thick dick was rock solid.

“I think maybe we should…” he said, moving closer to Chad.

Chad straightened.

“Forget it, chum, we’ve got work to do. You change, I’ll take a shower, and then…”

Blake arched an eyebrow.

“And then…?”

Over his shoulder as he headed to the bathroom, Chad called.

“We’ll go shopping!”


Chad’s dad, Brad, was just as tweedy as Chad made him out to be, Blake thought.

About an inch shorter than Chad, sandy brown hair with flecks of gray, a neat goatee, old-fashioned round “granny” glasses, with a slim runner’s build, Brad Bennett looked like Chad would look in 30 years, assuming Chad took up distance running. He had on topsiders, chinos, an Oxford-cloth button down shirt, and an honest to God tweed jacket with elbow patches.

Way to work the stereotype, Mr. B! Blake thought.

Laura, though, was something else. Dark auburn hair in a vaguely Sally Bowles pageboy bob, luminous green eyes, 5’2” tall with curves in all the right places, she wore a pale green sheath that covered, plunged, and revealed in disturbing sorts of ways, and enhanced her fiery eyes at the same time.

“Damn, Mrs. B,” Blake said. “How come I never noticed you at the library?”

Her throaty chuckle would have made Lauren Bacall proud.

“Not all of us work on the front lines,” she said. “On any given day you’ll see me wandering through but I don’t work reference or circ so unless you were a student assistant, and obviously you were not – I’d remember!”

Chad looked like he had indigestion.

Great, he thought. That’s all I need. My cougar mom is hitting on my boyfriend!

“I have to admit I’m kinda surprised not to have run into you myself,” Mr. Bennett said. “I do quite a bit of academic counseling with the student athletes, especially the football and baseball teams.”

Blake laughed.

“Then you definitely would NOT have seen me, sorry!” he said. “I was in class or the computer lab or working back stage at the Little Theatre.”

Brad Bennett’s eyes narrowed.

“But you’re such a jock! I can’t imagine why Coach Harper didn’t snap you up the minute he laid eyes on you.”

Chad chuckled.

“Dad, Blake started working out the same time I did,” Chad said. “He hasn’t always been this big!”

Although, come to think, Chad could understand why his dad was confused. The day before Blake had weighed in at 191 lbs. Watching Blake bench 315 lbs. for reps, his powerful muscles easily moving six plates up and down, anyone would assume he was a natural athlete.

As if to make up for his faux pas, Brad Bennett compounded it by following up with a 10-minute mini-dissertation on football at Ottawosammie State.

Which Blake followed up with 10-minute mini-dissertation on oncology nursing and why he preferred it to ER work.

“I’ll spare you the latest machinations of the American Library Association,” Mrs. Bennett said. “Perhaps Chad would like to fill us in on the latest IRS rule changes.”


Brad and Blake had the decency to blush and Chad deftly moved the conversation to discuss upcoming plans to visit New York to see the Broadway production of Kinky Boots and an art exhibit at NYU.

“The one about the Physique Pictorial guy?” his dad asked. “I saw that in The Times – looks interesting!”

Chad blushed. It hadn’t occurred to him that his dad had any clue that Physique Pictorial ever existed, much less what it meant to a couple of muscle-oriented young gay men like him and Blake!


A week later…

“Dot dada da!” Chad handed Blake a bouquet of roses when the latter opened the door. It was move-in day…and exactly one month since Blake had asked him to move in!

“You shouldn’t have,” Blake said. “But they’re really nice. Let me get something to put them in…”

After four years of college, Chad really didn’t have that much stuff: clothes, books (and books and books), CDs and DVDs (he was old school that way), some knick-knacks, and an honest-to-God desktop computer, plus desk and chair.

They had already agreed to set up the computer in the spare bedroom so it was just a matter of moving the daybed to the garage (a sorority chick was coming to pick up that afternoon) and re-arranging Blake’s office stuff.

Two hours later the rental truck had been returned to Home Depot and the two lovers were sitting in Blake’s small dining room, shirtless, eating pizza and washing it down with Sam Adams.

“Do you ever think about it?” Chad asked, looking across the table at Blake.

“Think about what?” Blake said.

Chad waved his hands at Blake, up and down, side to side, and did the same with himself.

“You mean how the gym is going?”

Chad nodded.

“I’m deliriously happy,” Blake replied. “I was kinda hoping that once I worked up the nerve to go do it I’d be good at it, and, well, as you say…”

Good at it, indeed, Chad thought.

In 5 weeks Blake had put on 40 lbs. of solid muscle. He’d lost 2 inches from his waist but added 8 inches to his chest, 5 inches to his quads, and 4 inches to his arms.

And the day before he’d benched 405 lbs. for reps – four times as much as he’d lifted five weeks earlier.

“You more so than I am, perhaps.”

Blake guffawed.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re not as big, but you didn’t want to be, remember? And, Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get so ripped so fast!”

It was true.

At 180 lbs. whatever baby fat Chad had when he started lifting had completely melted away.

They’d actually borrowed that handheld thingy from doofus Tucker Shaw. If it was to be believed, Chad’s body fat ratio was just 7% -- a number Tucker, with 10% body fat, wasn’t willing to credit! He wiped down the device, then made Chad do it again. Same result. Next he wiped it down, rebooted it, and shook it. Still the same result.

“You could do laundry on those abs,” Blake pointed out.


“And what’s up with benching 295 lbs.?” Blake asked. “That’s just silly. If you can bench 295 lbs. for 10 reps, you can bench 315 lbs. for 8!”

Chad rolled his eyes. They’d had this argument three times already.

“Slow and steady,” Chad said. “I don’t need to be a meathead!”

Blake stood up and leaned over Chad. Damn, he was getting w-i-d-e, not just thick!

“Who you calling a meathead, buddy?”

Chad grabbed Blake’s throbbing cock.

“The guy who knows he can get you to cum just by saying it, over and over again, that’s who!”




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