"Tim? Timothy?" Yves called as he rapped his knuckles against the locked door multiple times. When no one still answered, he sighed and fetched the spare key to where his boyfriend always hid it—inside the barrel man statue beside the potted plants.
How creative.
Yves crouched down and stared at the wood-carved statue of a man hiding inside a barrel. His boyfriend carved it himself. And knowing the sight he'd see once he lifted the barrel, he blushed. But there's no other choice. He only brought his wallet and phone, not his entire bag, where he left his own key to Timothy's house.
Grabbing the wooden barrel, Yves lifted it and Voila! The statue's arms sprung up. And so was his wooden dick.
Yves fumbled inside the barrel for the key and put it back on the naked statue to conceal that swinging dick.
Now, the wood-carved man in the barrel was not an exclusive find in Timothy's house. In fact, it was all over Baguio City's souvenir shops for tourist to bring home as a surprise gift for the clueless recipient. Yves was sure it had garnered mixed reactions, ranging from a light-hearted appreciation to the art to utter disgust, because it was quite indecent.
But the one at Timothy's doorstep was a little special, as Timothy claimed, because he carved in himself. His boyfriend carved the dick intricately that it would have passed as a mini-dildo. If he didn't know any better, he would assume that Timothy put extra effort into carving the wooden phallus just to mess with him.
'Okay, enough with the dick talk.'
Yves unlocked the door and entered his boyfriend's house that looked like a souvenir shop or a mini art museum. Whichever fit anyone's first impression. There were antique pots and vases on wooden shelves, and replicas of historical paintings hung on the wall. Yves weaved through the living room, careful not to knock on any of Timothy's collections.
"Tim?" he called again, checking the bedroom, which wasn't any different from the living room. There were kris swords and spears; even old coins and amulets that he helped arranged in a glass frame. The only one missing was the owner.
Did he leave?
Yves turned around to check the kitchen, only to come face to face with a long-haired man, staring down at him through the dark, wavy tresses obscuring his face. The scream he gave could awaken the wooden statues inside the house. He only stopped when he realized it's just Timothy with his hair down.
Timothy brushed up his freshly showered hair and leaned his arm against the doorframe, where Yves had backed himself out of fright. An amused smirk lifted the corner of his lips. "Hi, Baby. You're looking for me?"
Snapped out of his heart-stopping experience, Yves thumped his fist against Timothy's chest. "Don't baby-baby me, you jerk! Why do you keep doing that?"
Timothy only sniggered, pinching his nose before walking inside. "You're so cute."
If there were other things that interest this guy other than artifacts and ancient history, it would be to see him get spooked out of his mind. That's how's they met in college, and still didn't get old.
Yves glared at the broad back but averted his gaze when Timothy removed the white towel wrapped around his waist. 'Okay, calm down. You've seen him naked several times already. Like, whenever you're doing the deed.'
"So, what's up? I thought you're at Pat and Nico's wedding? Is it done already?" Timothy asked as he pulled on his skin-tight trunks, concealing a portion of his patterned tribal tattoo etched on his butt up to his shoulders.
"Yeah," Yves said, distracted. "You didn't come."
"Sorry, Baby. I'm busy with my research. Submission is coming up. Just tell them congratulations and best wishes from me. Ah! Hold on." Timothy crouched down and started rummaging through his drawer.
Yves sighed, walking up to the bed to sit. He already figured it's what Timothy would say. Still, he couldn't stop the light pang of disappointment from the man's unenthusiastic response. But since he knew the reason for Timothy's aversion to weddings, he didn't press the issue.
"Aha! This!" Timothy stood and walked up to him with a mischievous grin on his face, holding a long wooden rod that had Yves slapping a hand to his forehead.
"Tim."
"What? They're gonna love this. It's twelve inches." Timothy twisted around the wooden penis he sculpted, then slapped it to his palm. "I'm willing to bet this is longer than Pat's or Nico's. Or whoever tops between them. Just look at that girth. This bad boy can obliterate anyone's shit-womb."
Yves didn't know if he should laugh or punch his boyfriend's stupid face. As Timothy continued to describe the scandalous object like a salesman advertizing a magic wand, an uncontrollable laughter bubbled up his throat. Yves pinched Timothy's side.
"What? Ow! What?"
"You—!"
Timothy jolted away from his fingers, cackling. "What? Don't tell me you wanted this too?"
"As if!"
"Come here. Let me show you my twelve inches."
"Tim! Haha! Oh, my God! Stop! I can't breathe!" Yves clutched his stomach, shoving Timothy away from him, still laughing. "You're so—! So—! Why are you like this, you pervert?"
Timothy retaliated and pushed him on his back, crawling above him. He bit his lower lip seductively, wriggling his eyebrows as he tapped the wooden phallus to Yves' reddened cheeks. "Do you want me to show what a pervert looks like?"
Sprawled on the bed with his arms raised above his head, Yves took a deep breath. The temptation to grab his nape and mash their lips together tightened his pants. But there's somewhere he must be today, so he gripped the tattooed shoulder. "T-Tim, we can't. I still need to go to the reception."
Timothy lowered his head, and his still damp hair tickled his neck. The ghost of a kiss to his jawline drew a shudder from him, setting fire inside Yves' black suit. Timothy rasped to his ear: "You can go after we're done with our honeymoon, Baby."
Excitement boiled in his gut, but Yves let out the statement that stopped Timothy's hand from unbuttoning his suit. "Honeymoon, huh? But we're not even married."
It was only meant to hint at what he wanted his boyfriend to reconsider someday. But when Timothy pulled back to stare at him, the apparent disinterest in the idea glossed in his golden brown eyes. "Do we really have to? It's not like we haven't done everything every married couple had done."
"But I want to," Yves said. "It doesn't have to be today, or tomorrow. It doesn't even have to be as fancy as Nico and Pat's wedding. I just want us to have a ceremony where you promise you'll never leave me, and I promise you'll be the only one until we grow old. Something like that."
"Is that really what you want?"
"Yeah."
Timothy unmounted himself on top of him and fell on his back, releasing a deep sigh. He turned his head to the side, looked at him, then patted his shoulder. "Come here."
Yves did as he was told and lay his head on Timothy's arm.
"You know, we don't need those ceremonies and stuff like that. Marriage doesn't guarantee happiness. It won't even guarantee someone loyalty to you. Because if it does, my Dad wouldn't be suffering right now, and my Mom wouldn't have eloped with that someone else."
Silence befell him. He already knew the rest of the story. Yves embraced Timothy and breathed out his guilt for bringing it up again. He should have just kept his mouth shut.
"Don't worry." Timothy squeezed his arm, and his moist lips placed a tender kiss on his forehead. "Even without fancy weddings, in my heart, you have been married to me."