Teaching Sunflower

Copyright August 23, 2005
by Matthew Haldeman-Time

"Teaching Sunflower" is a sequel to "Still Sunflower."  Read "Still" first.  Thanks.

I am writing about men having sex with other men.  You must be eighteen or older to read my fiction.  This site is for consenting, responsible adults only.

            “Flower.”  Jimmy’s voice was hushed but insistent.  “Flower.  Sunflower.”

            Groaning, Sunflower rolled away, bringing the sheets up over his head, burrowing in deeper.

            “Come on,” Jimmy said, tugging at the sheets.  “Sunflower, don’t make me harass you this early in the morning.”

            The words “early in the morning” made Sunflower lower the sheets enough to squint at the clock.  With a disgusted sound, he flopped a pathetic hand in Jimmy’s direction.  “Come back to bed.”

            “We have to go,” Jimmy said patiently.

            “It’s too early to go anywhere,” Sunflower complained.  “Come back to bed.”

            “If you don’t get up and get dressed, I’ll go without you,” Jimmy said.

            Sunflower snorted, turning his back and closing his eyes.  He knew that Jimmy would never leave without him.  He’d just get another few minutes of sleep...

            Brown eyes opened.

            Sunflower frowned, wondering why he had the odd sense that something was wrong.  He wasn’t late for work; it was a Saturday.  He-


            Sunflower’s gaze shot over to the - - nine forty-five!  Nine fucking forty-five!


            Scrambling out of bed, Sunflower raced downstairs.  Why hadn’t Jimmy wakened him?  Why hadn’t Jimmy dragged him out of bed?  Why-


            “Jimmy?” Sunflower asked, taking another quick look around the house.

            Jimmy was gone.

            Jimmy had left him behind.

            “You gorgeous little shit,” Sunflower whispered, staring around the empty rooms.

            There was a note on the bathroom mirror.


                        See you when I get back.  Hope you enjoyed the extra sleep.



            Jimmy had this weird, irritating way of always being right.

            Sunflower loved him for it, of course; Sunflower was absolutely devoted to Jimmy, which was only fair, because Jimmy thought that Sunflower was utter perfection.  At least, that was how Sunflower interpreted the way Jimmy kissed him.  He could have been slightly off; it was hard to think clearly during Jimmy’s kisses.  Jimmy’s lips were so soft…

            While it was quite wonderful to be married to a great kisser, it was somewhat less ideal to be married to someone who was always right.

            So far, within the last week alone, Jimmy had been right about the speed limit on Old Elm Boulevard (Sunflower had the speeding ticket to prove it), whether or not the sour cream was rotten (it was, oh god, it was), whether or not Sunflower should grow a beard (definitely not), and whether or not Sunflower should sleep in (no).

            The problem was, Jimmy never gloated about it.  He never smirked, or got smug, or rubbed it in.  He just quietly let Sunflower draw the obvious conclusions without even one “I told you so.”

            It really was insufferable of him.  Sunflower could have resented Jimmy’s constant correctness if Jimmy had acted like an ass about it.

            As it was, all he could do was humbly change his own course, and love Jimmy for not even for a second becoming holier-than-thou.

            While Sunflower cleaned up from lunch, which took all of two seconds since he’d simply had cold cereal, Jimmy came home.  “Mmm, Sun,” Jimmy kissed him, “you won’t believe how great everybody was.  How was your morning?”

            Sunflower had promised himself that he’d act mature instead of petulant, that he’d act like nothing had happened and nothing was wrong.

            As soon as the opportunity arose, he broke that promise like a twig.  “You left without me!”

            Brief, quizzical head tilt, eyes squinted.  “I thought that you wanted to sleep in.”

            “You were supposed to get me up!”

            “I tried to wake you,” Jimmy said reasonably.  “You wanted to go back to sleep.  I respect your choices, Sun, I’m not going to drag you out of the house against your will.”

            “You’re supposed to,” Sunflower argued, giving in to immature petulancy.

            “Supposed to respect your choices?” Jimmy asked.

            “Supposed to drag me out of the house against my will,” Sunflower said.

            Jimmy laughed.  “Okay, I’ll remember that for next time.”

            Sunflower hugged him, because he was perfect.  He smelled like fresh grass and a summer day.  “I wanted to go with you,” Sunflower said against Jimmy’s neck.  He loved the feel of Jimmy in his arms, Jimmy’s body casually aligned with his.  It was the most comfortable feeling in the world.  Sometimes he wanted to have all of their conversations that way.

            “I know,” Jimmy said, arms looped familiarly around Sunflower, fingers twisting themselves in the fabric of his shirt.  “Next time.”

            “Did you have a good time?  Who else showed up?”

            “I had a great time,” Jimmy said.  “Everybody else was there.”  He met Sunflower’s eyes.  “I wish you’d been there.”

            Beautiful blue eyes looked at Sunflower without a trace of judgment, only passing regret for a missed opportunity.

            Lesson learned.

            “I know,” Sunflower said.  “Me, too.”

            Jimmy kissed him.

            A moment’s kiss became an hour’s lovemaking.

            After they went up to the bedroom, Sunflower took his time, undressing Jimmy slowly, exploring each line and curve of Jimmy’s body, admiring, adoring.  He loved the smooth resilience of Jimmy’s skin, the flex and ripple of sleek muscle, the constant restless shifting of Jimmy’s legs and feet that betrayed Jimmy’s impatient need.

            When he planted slow, wet, sucking kisses over the round head of Jimmy’s straining erection, Jimmy shuddered, moaning, rubbing one foot against Sunflower’s thigh.  “Sun, Sun, yes, that feels…  Oh, ah, ah, nn, yes, god, Sun, please…”

            God, Jimmy tasted good.  His long erection was dark with need, pushing urgently down Sunflower’s throat as his hips rocked senselessly.  He had both hands clenched on the pillow under his head, hips rising and falling in a stuttering rhythm as he groaned at the stimulation, one foot rubbing unsteadily between Sunflower’s thighs.

            Moaning around Jimmy’s dick, Sunflower pushed Jimmy’s foot aside, his suction bringing Jimmy into his rhythm, up down, up down, up god, Jimmy was crying out in desperate, aching tones, “Sun, Sun, please, I need it, I’m so close, I’m close, Sun, Sun, please..”

            Backing off for just a moment, Sunflower sucked his finger into his mouth, wetting it with saliva and Jimmy’s pre-cum, then slurped Jimmy’s erection down his throat again and worked his finger into Jimmy’s ass, twisting in and stroking, shallow fucking, deep sucking, while Jimmy shuddered and bucked and called out in a broken, ecstatic voice, shooting thick, salty streams of cum over Sunflower’s eager tongue.

            Making love to Jimmy wasn’t like making love to anyone else.  Jimmy was relaxed about sex; he didn’t care what position they were in, or whether Sunflower took two minutes or two hours.  He didn’t care who came first; he didn’t care if Sunflower came early, or late, or in him or on him.  He just wanted to get off, and get Sunflower off, and have a good time doing it.

            He got pretty loud, which had made them somewhat infamous in dorm rooms and their first apartment.  He didn’t give a lot of verbal direction, but Sunflower made up for it.

            Unless he had a dick in his mouth, Sunflower talked during sex.  It usually came out as instruction and information.  “Take it, Jimmy, take it, take my dick, you want it, you need it, all of it, I’m going to fuck that hot ass,” etc.

            Which was why, after swallowing Jimmy’s sweet salty cream, he was on his back, fucking Jimmy’s mouth, and talking through an increasingly loud series of moans.

            “Yeah, Jimmy, oh, take it, oh, yeah, suck it, suck it, lick it like that, lick it all over, oh, god, suck my dick, harder, harder, oh, unh, fuck.”  Jimmy was bobbing up and down on his erection, wet lips in motion, and watching his own aching dick disappear into the gorgeous soft mouth made Sunflower dig his fingers into the mattress and groan like he was already coming.  “God, unh, ah, ah, Jimmy, suck it, suck it faster, faster, I’m going to come in your mouth, come in your gorgeous mouth, come in your oh, oh, oh, fuck” here “Jimmy” it “god” came “Jimmy!”  Coming, spasming and jerking and shivering, Sunflower flooded Jimmy’s mouth, groaning and gasping.

            They had the whole day off, so they stayed in bed for the rest of afternoon, petting each other and kissing each other with lazy affection and talking.  Jimmy talked about his morning; Sunflower talked about his own morning, which had been somewhat less interesting.

            Sunflower knew that Jimmy needed space.  Sunflower, as a reasonable human being, needed his own space, too.  But, the thing was, Sunflower didn’t like to give Jimmy space.  He liked to be with Jimmy.  Go where Jimmy went.  See what Jimmy saw.  Do what Jimmy did.  Experience everything about Jimmy and Jimmy’s environment, at every step of each day.

            He wanted to go to work with Jimmy.  He wanted to stop by the gas station with Jimmy.  He wanted to make coffee with Jimmy.  He wanted to stand in lines and read the paper and fold socks with Jimmy.

            They were apart often enough, for work and other such things, that missing a specific opportunity to share something with Jimmy, well, it felt wrong.

            Sunflower wasn’t dependent, or helpless, or unbalanced.  He just wanted to be with Jimmy all of the time.  Because Jimmy was fun.  And sexy.  And interesting.  And a lot of other exotic and wonderful and normal and special things that added up to become Jimmy.

            After dinner, they read, and watched TV, and Sunflower talked to his mother on the phone, standing right behind Jimmy and running his fingers through Jimmy’s hair while he watched Jimmy surf the Net.

            They went to bed.

            “Flower.”  Jimmy’s voice was hushed but insistent.  “Flower.  Sunflower.”

            Groaning, Sunflower rolled away, bringing the sheets up over his head, burrowing in deeper.

            Then he opened his eyes, pushing the sheets back down.  “What?” he asked, gaze finding Jimmy in the early morning light.

            “I love you,” Jimmy said, and kissed him.

            Sunflower kissed back.

            Some things were definitely worth waking up for.

Short stories