Didn’t matter they’d made that wall look nicer, in front of it, the line of shrubs Maddox and Diesel had planted were growing thick and high, and in another year or two, they’d completely obscure the wall, growing higher, further fencing them in, keeping others out, muting noise, giving them a refuge of privacy.
That lawn was so green and those shrubs were growing that fast in this climate because Diesel tended that yard and those shrubs like he was hoping they’d be photographed for a magazine. Weed killer. Fertilizer. Judicious pruning.
But he didn’t want it to be photographed for a magazine.
He wanted it to be a nice place where his Molly and his Maddox could hang out.
They had a covered back patio that ran the length of the house and they used it. They were outside people. Even in the heat of summer in the Valley of the Sun, they were out there under the ceiling fan, sometimes with the misters on, when it got dark turning on the strings of old-looking, Edison-bulb lights, throwing back beers and shooting the shit.
After they’d gotten the house done, but before they’d gone deep in doing the yard, since they didn’t have a lot of room to put in a full pool, Diesel and Maddox had dug a spot where they put in an outdoor soaking pool to use to cool off, laze around and fuck in at one side of the patio. It was partially covered by the patio overhang, partially in the sun and had a nice water feature that shot spray into the pool. It could also be heated and had jets so it could be used as a Jacuzzi in the winter.
Mol had placed huge urns around it that had been distressed to look old, like they were from Roman times or something, these disbursed around pool and also the short, squat, thick-trunked stand of five palms that had been the only feature of the yard when Maddox bought the house. They also had pads that they could sit in or lay on at the sides.
They spent a lot of time in and around that pool.
At the other side of the patio was a kickass built-in grill. It had burners with it so you could full-on cook out there. And a small bar with outdoor stools surrounded it so that whoever wasn’t grilling could hang close to whoever was.
Only when they had that shit sorted did they see about the rest of the yard, front and back.
Their neighborhood was seriously regentrifying, but their house was still straight-up the best on the goddamned block.
Maddox had bought it six years before in a bank auction when the old owners had defaulted, and it was almost criminal what he’d paid for it. Practically nothing. Not even six figures. This was especially since it was in good shape. The old owners hadn’t gutted it, like some who’d defaulted had.
It still wasn’t a palace.
Since Mol, they’d poured money and as much of their free time as they could into it.
Molly was the practice manager of a big medical imaging practice. D made good bill working road construction for the city. Maddox was foreman for a large landscaping and pool company that serviced all of Phoenix and the surrounding areas. They all pulled down decent wages.
But they hadn’t taken but two vacations together since they’d had Molly, these to go up to Denver and visit with D’s sister Rebel, and they’d agreed no big birthday or Christmas shit.
All so they could sort the house.
Now it was sorted.
And now it was time to consider the future.
He looked down in his mug then over to the coffeepot.
It was full and the liquid in it was nearly black.
Due to D’s inability to jolt himself into the land of the living without sucking back explosive amounts of caffeine, Maddox, and then Molly, had learned to like serious strong coffee.
At one point, Maddox had suggested they get a Keurig so they could all have what they liked, but Mol had lost it, carrying on about the environment, how those pods were piling up, choking landfills so bad they’d be coming up garbage disposals before they knew it.
She’d been so off on one, and so cute doing it, in order not to piss her off by laughing at her, D had given Maddox a look before he’d hooked their woman at her waist, hauled her in his lap and promised her they would never buy a Keurig on threat of death.
Then they’d taken her mind off it when Diesel started making out with her and playing with her tits while Maddox spread her legs and went down on her sitting in D’s lap until she came.
The Keurig had never been brought up again.
But that morning, Maddox had just flipped a switch because Molly had set them up before she left like her boys couldn’t make their own coffee.
She was that way. They were that way.
They took care of each other.
He looked down at his cup that he’d had to pour an inch of French vanilla creamer in to cut the joe.
He was going to take a sip.
But instead he held the mug out and looked down his bare stomach to his pajama bottoms.
He’d had them since before D. They were so old and used and worn and had been washed so much what once was flannel was now soft and thin, like cotton. The back hems were ragged and hunks of them had worn away from Maddox walking on them or dragging them.
A few months into Molly living with them, she set about domesticating them. In other words squeezing the bachelor bullshit out of them. In doing this, she’d gone through their clothes to get rid of crap that should have been tossed years ago. And she’d put those bottoms in those piles.
Before she chucked that shit out, though, she’d asked them to make sure there wasn’t anything in those piles they wanted to keep.
Maddox didn’t give that first shit about anything in those stacks. Clothes were clothes. You put them on. Washed them. Put them on again. Tossed them out when they got stained, misshapen, or worn out. So he didn’t care about those pajama bottoms. He figured if Mol didn’t like them, they could go and he’d buy new.
But even if she didn’t throw anything away without asking, Diesel had gotten pissed those bottoms were in those piles.
He’d yanked them out, bunched them up in a fist and bit, “Throwin’ these out is like throwin’ Maddox out.”
He’d then stalked away, going to the bedroom where he put them back in the drawer.
Molly had been stunned.
To soothe her, Maddox had explained it to her.
But D doing that, what Maddox had felt had been entirely different.
Because the morning after their second date, the date Maddox knew Diesel let him win at a wrestling match so he could test how good Mad was with his hands, his mouth, his cock, the morning after the first night they’d fallen asleep together and slept beside each other, D had lurched into the old kitchen they’d had before they’d built their great room.
There he’d found Maddox sitting at a kitchen table that was now long gone.
And Mad had been wearing those bottoms.
D’d walked up to him, fisted a hand in his hair, yanked his head back and took his mouth in a kiss that was so hot, when it ended, the only reason Maddox hadn’t asked him to move in immediately was that Diesel had caught the fact that his kiss had woken Mad’s junk up.
So he’d hauled Maddox out of this chair, bent him over the table, yanked those pajama bottoms over his ass, and fucked Maddox dry.
Mad didn’t mind. He was into pain. He’d come all over the floor under the table taking him and he’d done it hard.
But it was the first time he’d had Diesel’s cock.
With those bottoms around his thighs.
Diesel was like that when they were beginning.
Yeah, he was a dude. Maddox was a dude. They were both bi. Loved cock, ass, tits and pussy. But D could be demonstrative back then. Kiss and give him looks where his blue eyes were warm or his face was expressive.