by Quin Perin
Their cocks looked good together, sliding in the tight channel Mark’s hand made.
“Touch yourself, Paulie,” Mark commanded. “I want to see it.”
Paul’s hands let go of the blankets and they slid over the sheer fabric of his shirt. His fingers pinched his nipples, slid over his collarbone, down his stomach. They teased under the waist of the ruined nylons, then went back up again.
“Fuck, so gorgeous. Look at you.”
Paul closed his eyes and moaned, a needy whimper exiting his lips. “More. Please, Mark.”
“What do you need baby?” Mark thrust his hips, his balls tightening as their cocks slid together.
“You. Mark. Please, please. Fuck me. Need you in me.”
Mark slowed his movements to a gentle rocking motion. Underneath him, Paul shuddered and cursed, his back arching.
“Please, big brother. Please.”
After one final, languid thrust, Mark removed his hand and stood up. He ran his hands down Paul’s body, feeling the heat of his flesh even through his clothing.
“Turn over.”
Paul obeyed, seemingly unhurried, despite begging just a few minutes ago.
Mark watched Paul position himself on his hands and knees, his skirt falling across his ass, framing the roundness of it. Mark pushed the fabric up and out of the way, giving himself a full view.
He smoothed his hand over one of the globes and gave it a squeeze, then a slap. Paul inhaled, a sharp hissing sound, then he moaned, and his shoulders dropped down to the bed, leaving his ass pointing up into the air.
Mark brought his other hand down and squeezed both cheeks. He tore the nylons open and ran his fingers down the crack, pressing them against his pretty pink hole, and Paul whined, thrusting his hips a little.
“Do you want my cock in there, baby brother?”
Paul whined, his hips shifting from side to side, his cock swaying heavily between his legs. His answer came out in one long, needy breath.
“Please.”
Four
Paul didn’t care that he sounded like a wanton slut. He felt like one, but it was okay, because he was Mark’s, and Mark liked him like this. Dressed up and dirty. Paul shivered when Mark’s fingers circled his rim.
“Mark,” he keened, his hands fisting the blankets as he humped the empty air. “I need it.”
Mark laughed behind him as he caressed Paul’s hips. “I know, baby brother. I know.”
Mark walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer. He grabbed the bottle of lube Paul kept there, and Paul watched as he squirted a generous amount into his hand and slicked his cock with it.
“I promise I’m negative. How about you? I can put a condom on if you want me to.”
“No, it’s-it’s okay. I only… just once. A long time ago, and I was safe. I’ve been tested since.”
“Do you want this, Paulie?” Mark stood behind Paul and stroked his back with his free hand. He smeared lube over Paul’s hole with the head of his cock.
“Please.”
“You want my cum inside you?” Mark gently prodded Paul’s entrance with a lube-slick finger.
“Please, Mark, please. Make me yours. I want to be yours.”
Mark made a sound of approval as he slowly inserted a finger into Paul’s tight ass. The stretch and burn weren’t anything Paul couldn’t take—he’d fingered himself plenty of times—but this was Mark, and those were Mark’s fingers, now two of them, stroking inside his channel. Paul closed his eyes and focused on the way Mark made him feel.
Wanted, when Mark leaned down and kissed the back of Paul’s neck, then the small of his back. Adored, when Mark squeezed the globes of Paul’s round ass and made an appreciative sound. Loved, when Mark carefully opened him, talking to him the whole time, telling him how good he was.
When Mark slid inside him, it was almost torture. Paul gripped the sheets harder and arched his back. He breathed deep and focused on opening up for Mark. Mark was well endowed, his cock fatter than Paul’s favorite dildo, but not by much.
“Oh my fuck,” Paul whined as Mark buried himself deeper. “Oh my fuck, that’s so good.”
Mark gripped his hips and smoothed his hands up and down Paul’s back, under his shirt, then over his shirt. He worked on getting a rhythm going, a steady slide in and out. Paul already needed to cum so badly he could hardly stand it.
Then Mark leaned down and wrapped an arm around Paul’s chest. He pulled Paul’s torso up and sucked on Paul’s neck while he steadily drove into him over and over.
Paul hadn’t opened his eyes yet, and he clung to Mark’s arm with both hands. “Please. Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
Mark answered him by nipping the sensitive area between his neck and shoulder. Paul yelped, and Mark reached down, wrapping his hand around Paul’s erection.
“This is real, baby brother.” Mark pulled out, and Paul gasped at the sudden loss. Without the stretch of Mark’s cock inside him, Paul felt woefully empty.
For a fleeting moment, Paul worried that it might all be a terrible dream; terrible because it was a dream, and he needed it to be real more than anything. Then he was on his back, and Mark was above him again, pinning him down, his body hot against Paul’s. They held eye contact while Mark positioned his cock and pushed back inside.
Saying he saw fireworks would be inadequate. It was more like the birth of a galaxy when Mark thrust inside him. A universe of colors and possibilities opened up to Paul. Mark leaned down and kissed him long and deep, almost frantic. Their passion now unbridled, Paul clung to Mark, his fingers biting bruises into his shoulders as Mark snapped his hips and fucked Paul with abandon.
Already, Paul felt a sheen of sweat on his skin. His throat was dry from panting and gasping, and not even the sweetness of Mark’s mouth on his could sate him. “Please, god. It feels so good.”
Mark licked a hot stripe up the side of Paul’s neck and fisted a hand in his hair. He tugged his head to the side and nibbled on Paul’s ear. His movements were slower now, more deliberate. Measured strokes perfectly grazed Paul’s prostate, and his orgasm felt imminent.
Mark backed off, easing the pressure, and Paul groaned. “Mark, please. I need to come. I need to come so bad.”
“Me first, Paulie. Big brother always comes first. It’s a rule.”
“Fuck. Please,” Paul begged, willing himself not to come. He wouldn’t disappoint Mark. He refused. He wanted to be perfect for him. To be everything he ever wanted and become the only thing he’d ever need.
“You’re so sweet. So fucking sweet.”
Mark kissed him again, mouth on mouth, tongue on tongue. He kissed Paul as though he needed him, as though kissing him was the most important thing in his world. Paul’s fingers probably left scratches on his back, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. He sat up and pulled out, his body tensing as he wrapped his hand around his cock.
Paul watched Mark jack himself furiously, gazing into Paul’s eyes the whole time. He came, red faced and panting all over Paul’s hole. He smiled and dipped the head of his cock in his own release, then pushed it into Paul.
Paul still hadn’t come, and he realized how ruined he looked. His shirt up around his armpits, his skirt around his waist, his cock sticking out of his ruined nylons. Mark bent down and wrapped his mouth around Paul’s cock.
It was too much. Too good. Too hot and wet and tight when Mark sucked him. He came in two seconds, filling Mark’s mouth with cum. He half expected Mark to swallow, but he didn’t. He brought his mouth down to Paul’s. Paul opened and let Mark kiss him. He let Mark make him taste his own release. It was thick and salty and not unpleasant.
They kissed for a long time after. Long after the cum was gone and they’d caught their breath. Eventually, Mark settled in beside Paul and tugged him close, wrapping his arms around him. Neither was in a hurry to move.
Paul was almost asleep, in fact, when Mark spoke. “We get to keep doing this, right, pretty boy?”
Suddenly fully awake
, Paul clung to Mark. “You said I was yours.”
“And you are.” Mark kissed the top of his head. “You’re mine for as long as you want to be.”
“I’ve wanted to be yours since forever. I’ll want to be yours always.”
“And I’ll want you to be mine always,” Mark sighed. “Is this why you avoided me, Paulie?”
Ashamed of himself, Paul nodded.
“Well, good,” Mark said, surprising Paul. “That means you don’t have a reason to avoid me anymore.”
“What about… my clothes. You’re not… you like them?”
“The skirt is sexy as hell, but I’m good with you being you. Whatever that means. You can wear whatever you want, whenever you want, and I promise there’s nothing you could do to make me change my mind about wanting to be with you.”
Paul chewed on his lower lip. “What do we tell people?”
“Nothing. We tell them nothing. It’s not their business. It doesn’t matter if people don’t know about us. We know about us. I know I love you; I know you love me. That’s all I need.”
Paul snuggled closer and let his eyes fall shut. He knew he must look a mess, but he didn’t care. He was exhausted and happy, and for the first time in weeks, he thought he might actually get a decent night’s sleep.
“I love you, Mark.”
“I love you, too, pretty boy.”
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Particular Tastes
T.S. McKinney
One
Christian
I stood in front of the mirror and tried to give myself a pep talk. I’d known this day would come; we were bound to bump into each other due to our line of work. I’d hoped I would have more time, though. Time to adjust to the shitshow that happened in London over eight months ago. Time to convince myself that the sex games Agent Hudson Donovan and I had played while working undercover had meant absolutely nothing to me—since it hadn’t meant a damn thing to Agent Donovan. How could it have? Hudson was straight.
“Goddammit,” I hissed in frustration. “This is going to be a clusterfuck.” By this, I meant the fact that Hudson’s team had scheduled a week-long training session with my team. He was here—got here sometime last night. The rest of my team had waited for our London counterparts to arrive last night, and I was certain there had been serious drinking involved with our own version of the Welcome to the USA party. Like a fucking coward, I’d turned in early so I could have an extra ten hours before I had to face him again.
“Why are you so fucking worried?” I asked myself. “You did nothing wrong. It was a job, nothing more.” Lies; all lies. “Fuck it,” I growled as I jerked away from the mirror. I’d never been one to hide my feelings or sexuality, and I wasn’t going to let some gorgeous, straight, twink look-alike with a sexy fucking accent cause me to start now. Nope. In London, I’d dished it out to him in the form of sexual innuendos, inappropriate suggestions, and a few wickedly erotic touches and he’d taken it. Hell, he’d done more than take it; he’d not only let me do all those things, but he’d acted like he enjoyed every damn whisper and touch.
On the other hand, like me, he lied on a daily basis as part of his profession.
“Shit,” I grumbled to myself as I opened the door to my suite. The headquarters of my company was housed in a mansion that had been designed and built to duplicate Biltmore House in North Carolina. It left us plenty of room to ‘move in’ during training activities…which meant I’d be trapped under the same roof as Agent Hudson Donovan for the next seven days. Perfect.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, Elijah popped out of the room on the opposite side of the hall and wrapped his arm around my neck. “Dude! We soooo missed you last night. Tell me again why you were too ‘tired’ to participate in drinking activities.” He used air quotes when he said the word tired.
There was no point trying to hide it—my entire team knew how learning Hudson was straight had fucked with my head. A couple of them had even offered to make him disappear if it would help me pull my head out of my own ass. “Beauty sleep, man,” I answered as he tugged me down the hall. “I was in desperate need of more beauty sleep.”
Elijah barked out a laugh. “Right. Okay, that was the reason.” Instead of taking the elevator, we both headed straight for the massive stone staircase. “We all know you were hiding from Pretty Boy, aka London. Dude, we’ve totally got your back on this. Ain’t no across-the-pond agent gonna walk into our den of iniquity and try to ruffle your feathers.” He shook his head from side to side as we took the steps two at a time. “Not going to happen.”
“Leave it alone, Elijah,” I told him. “Hudson didn’t do anything wrong. We were both undercover, neither of us knew who the other was—shit happened and now it’s over.” This time, I was the one wrapping my arm around his neck. “I’m going to do my thing. He can do his thing. Before we know it, the week will be up and he’ll be out of my life for good.” Dammit but the thoughts of never seeing Hudson again made my heart do something weird…not a good weird.
“He was looking for you last night,” Elijah said as we made our way to the dining hall.
I nearly stumbled over my own feet, causing Elijah to laugh at me. “Easy, soldier; no need in getting injured before the battle even begins.”
“It isn’t a battle, Elijah. Don’t say shit like that.” I looked around to make sure there weren’t any members of the London team hanging around, listening to our conversation. “He’s straight. Everything that happened between us in London, all the flirting and touching, was not real. Let’s drop it, okay? I already feel weird about being around him again. Let’s not make it worse.”
“Whatever you say, friend,” Elijah answered after a few uncomfortable seconds of staring into my eyes. “But he was asking—be prepared.”
“I’m always prepared.”
I was so not prepared.
The minute my foot crossed the threshold to the dining hall, a hush fell over the group of men and women. A horrible, everybody-stare-at-the-gay-agent silence filled the room. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that the teams were uncomfortable, disagreed, or even gave a fuck about my sexual preference. No, it was more to the fact that I’d, very aggressively, hit on a very hot, very straight agent. Let’s be honest—my mouth had been on his cock.
When it seemed like everyone was going to remain completely deer-in-the-headlights frozen, I heard the scuff of a chair across the stone floor. Hudson, the object of all my wicked dreams lately, stood up and walked toward me. There was a friendly enough smile on his face and those damn beautiful blue eyes of his twinkled with mischief. It was his naughty streak that had sucked me in and held on tight when we’d been in London. I needed to ignore it. I had to ignore it.
I couldn’t ignore it.
“Hey, Christian,” he practically purred after closing the distance between us. “How have you been?” His plump lips formed a sexy pout as he added, “I’d hoped to see you last night. Beauty sleep?”
Elijah, standing behind me, choked on a laugh.
“Yep; that was it. Beauty sleep. Welcome to the United States and Pennsylvania.” Shit, his scent was delightful. He always smelled nice—like man, London fog, and marshmallows. Nope, I had no idea where that stupid description came from. I held out my hand for him to shake, but he pulled me into a brief man hug. It was more like the chest bump hug that straight guys did.
When he pulled away, he whispered, “Glad to see you again, Agent Reisen.” He stepped back and eyed me up and down. “Looks like the beauty sleep worked. Come on; join us for breakfast.”
With that, he walked away, that familiar twist in his perfect ass.
That fucker was fucking with me. Oh, he didn’t have a clue who he was messing with! I didn’t play well with others…and it looked like he was about to fin
d that out.
Two
Hudson
Well...that was remarkably disastrous. That man, the man sitting three chairs down from me, was not the Christian Reisen I met in London. The Christian in London was sexually aggressive, playful, and damn full of himself. He’d pushed me in directions I had no idea I might be interested in going. Fuck, to be honest, he’d played my body like a violin.
Every damn time he’d flirted or touched me, I’d melted like a teenager experiencing my first taste of testosterone. Three different times he’d pushed me against the wall and flattened his body against mine. I’d felt every muscle, every dip, every fucking valley—from his chest to his legs—and my body had responded. Every time he dominated me, my body submitted. Every time he promised to do wicked things to my body, I’d gotten hot all over and stuttered like an idiot.
Yes, I was straight—or had been straight my entire life. Christian, though…he made me rethink everything. Over the past eight months I’d turned to every source I could get my hands on to try and help me figure out what the hell he’d done to me. What was I?
Bi-curious? I didn’t think so and, anyway, curiosity killed the cat so I needed to steer clear of that.
Bisexual? Doubted it. Christian was the only man to ever interest me. Ever.
Gay for You? Maybe. A good solid maybe. The fact that Christian was all I’d thought about since he’d left London put the whole gay for you theory in the good, solid maybe category. Yep…that’s where it sat—in the category…waiting on me to do something about it.
Well, here I was, ready to do something about it. With some heavy behind the scenes bribery on my part, this training scam had been organized. Again, here I was. I bit down on a piece of bacon and nodded my head. What in the hell was I going to do now that I was here? In my mind, I’d pictured Christian being the flirty, vow to take me to his bed and make sure I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week guy. Instead, it looked like I was getting the stick up his ass Christian. Dammit.
