by V. L. Locey
“God above,” he whispered, threading his fingers into my hair as I tried to sling a leg over his thighs. My knee cracked against the steering wheel. I cussed. Bran rubbed my scalp with his fingertips. “Let’s go inside.”
“Yeah, okay.” We slipped out of the truck, my hands grasping at him, pulling him to me to take another taste and then another. The two of us fell through the front door, my hands on his ass, his fumbling to pull the keys out of the lock. I tugged on his lower lip. He groaned and kicked the door shut and threw the keys to a table. Didn’t know which one and didn’t care, all I cared about was getting him naked and under me.
Clothing snagged on elbows and heads, which eased my blood lust just a little, enough to actually listen to his panted words as they rushed past my ear.
“Nate, I should shower.” His hands were on my back, nails raking over my skin, adding a touch of pain to the pleasure. I feasted on his neck, lapping up the taste of salt and Bran, each lick flooding my mouth with his flavor, making me harder and hotter for him.
“Mm, no, you don’t.” I leaned against him, shifting my weight forward so that he’d connect with the wall. “I like the way you taste. Manly, natural…”
“No, I just…are you sure?”
I lifted my head from his neck and stared into his hooded eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. We’re going to be a lot dirtier after I fuck you senseless.”
He kissed me hard, his hips punching outward. I shoved my hands down the back of his pants, cupping his ass cheeks while rolling my pelvis. The grind was electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me.
“Come, now,” he gasped when the kiss ended. “I want you. Inside me.”
“Hey, just…are you positive?” I needed to hear him say it. There could be no Jim sleeping with us tonight, he had to be one hundred percent or we’d back off. We’d done it before, several times when things had gotten really hot.
“Yes, I’m positive, Nate. I want you in my bed. Our bed.”
That was all I needed to hear.
“Okay, one more thing to make this good for you.” I slapped the power button on the stereo and his idol began singing about wanting someone to play him.
The fire in his eyes made my knees weak. Mouths sealed, we tripped and fumbled to the bedroom, kissing and touching, tugging off pants and socks and underwear until we were both nude and I had him tight to the doorway of the master bedroom. His cock lying next to mine, my mouth slanted over his to swallow each raspy mewl and shuddering exhalation.
“I could do you right here,” I growled, grabbing at his leg, my fingers digging into the meaty part of his thigh.
“Bed…the bed,” he huffed, his hands traveling over my ribs, his tongue working on the inkwork that crawled up my neck. “For us…the bed is for us.”
My gaze crawled over the man in my arms before it touched on the bed. It was huge, with a wrought-iron head and footboard. The coverings were slate gray and blue, which matched his eyes. Had he done that on purpose? Didn’t matter. It was totally different than the wooden one that had been in here before but that was the idea, right?
He pressed a kiss to my ear. “Do you like it?”
“I do, yeah, it’s so us.” I cupped his face between my hands and licked into his mouth, steering him from the doorway to the bed. I held onto him, sucking on his lower lip, and we eased ourselves onto the lush bedding, the soft mattress allowing us to sink into it. “Fuck I want you so bad.”
He arched up under me, driving his cock into mine. I sucked in his hot breath, and we kissed and rutted, ramping each other up, until I was close to blowing a nut. He clung to me as I pulled away. Cool air blew down over us from the ceiling fan, doing little to dry our clammy skin.
“You got stuff?” I asked then lowered my head to run my teeth over a pert little nipple.
“Side drawer…mm, suck on it harder, please?”
He asked so nicely. What could I do besides what he had wished? I drew his flat nipple into my mouth, sucking hard and pumping my dick into his thigh. The man came unglued. He writhed and groaned, pulling on my hair until I winced. I took the bud between my teeth and tugged. His moans grew raspier, thicker, so I released his nipple then reached for the nightstand. The lamp wobbled precariously. He grabbed for it with a gruff snort then righted it as I yanked the drawer open and pulled out a neatly folded bath towel, two matching washcloths, a string of condoms, and a new bottle of lube.
I gave him a look as I shook open the towel and rained condoms, lube, and washcloths over his chest and belly.
“I like to be prepared,” he said, a sinful smile on his lips.
“Roll over, hands and knees, ass in the air, and do not let go of the headboard until I say so.”
His pupils blew out, nearly obscuring the beautiful stormy sky color I so enjoyed.
“God, Nate.” He hurried to accommodate me, opening the towel then dropping to his elbows, his gorgeous ass in the air, his pucker and balls and cock displayed for me. “Hurry, I’m…fuck I’m close.”
I rubbed my hand over his left buttock, using my thumb to toy with his hole after I rushed to get a condom rolled on. He pushed back on my finger, his head buried among mounds of blue and slate pillows, his hands fisted around the thick spindles of iron.
Knowing neither of us was going to last long, I found the lube lying beside me and coated his ass with it. A low, gravelly moan rolled out of him when I slid my fingers through the slick, clear gel. Fisting my cock, I squeezed it, trying to hold back the urge to shoot all over his sweet ass.
The most amazing sounds and coos came out of him when I worked my thumb into his hole. He arched like an alley cat, sweat beading on his lower back despite the air conditioning and the fan overhead. I bent down to lick the beads of perspiration off his skin. My dick throbbed in my hand. I straightened, pulled out my thumb and pressed the head of my cock into him.
“More. Please. More.”
I gave him more, inch by inch, after some resistance it was one smooth slide, his body stretching as I eased myself into him. Bran was possibly one of the most vocal bottoms I’d ever been with. He whimpered and moaned, mewled and whispered, crying out pleasure with each thrust. There was no slow now that I was buried in his ass. I fucked him hard, bowing over him, my hips punching forward, pounding into him, driving him up the bed until his head rested against his hands.
He mumbled something that was lost among the pillows and my own snarling shout of completion. His body clamped down around me. I drove in deeper and let the orgasm claim me. I fell over him, slid an arm around his sagging middle then reached for his cock. He came all over my fingers. Canting my hips, I tried to burrow further into him as he pumped into my hand. Working the hot cum over his dick, I tightened my grip and let him fuck my hand until he melted under me. With my support system gone, I splayed over his back, my dick slipping free of all that hot, slick man. I nuzzled the nape of his neck, nipping and licking.
“Holy shit,” Bran wheezed as he wiggled to the left then cussed. “I think I…missed the towel. Fuck.”
“I love hearing you talk dirty,” I teased, sliding off his back to the bed, and yep, right onto a wet spot. “Yeah, you totally missed the towel.”
I rolled to my right, catching him and pulling him to me. Belly to belly, thigh to thigh, lips to lips, I pressed myself to him then kissed him softly, seeking something from him. He softened as the kiss went on, the upset over his soiled bedspread easing. We lapped into each other’s mouths, nipped at lips, and cuddled in close. The soft whirring blades over the bed cooling our sticky bodies quickly.
“Was that good for you?” I asked, his lashes slowly lifting. I felt myself slipping in his loving gaze.
“Magnificent,” he whispered, pushing some hair from my brow, his gaze sultry yet. I felt a small stirring at the base of my balls, and I pumped my soft dick into his belly.
“Good.” I stole a kiss then rolled from the lure of him and that soft bed to stand. “Flush or trash?” I pointed at
my dick. Bran waved a hand at the bathroom door.
“Trash please. The septic system probably wouldn’t like condoms.”
I padded into the bath, tied off the condom, tossed it into the trash, and then went back to my lover. He lay facing me now, the towel gone and a new one in its place. I had to smile at the open invitation that fresh towel presented.
“I thought you might like a shower but now…” I crawled back into the king-sized bed, his gaze staying on me as I tugged on the towel. “Now I think you might want to get fucked again?”
“In a bit, yes, please, I would love that. It’s been…years.”
I lay down facing him. “You okay with what we just did?”
“Mm, yes, it’s just…” He paused to consider his words. “I refuse to discuss him while we’re in this bed. There are no comparisons because you are two different men. Similar in lots of ways, some downright frightening, but different. You’re a hot, passionate lover, and I adored what we shared.”
“I’m glad. I did too.” His eyelids eased down and then flew back up. “Let’s grab a nap. Sunday evenings were made for napping.”
“That sounds perfect.” He burrowed into me, his arm sliding under mine. I put my mouth on his, gently kissing his lips. Yeah, this right here was the most perfect thing I’d ever experienced.
The nap lasted for an hour. We awoke looking at each other, and then, because he was the most perfect thing I had ever known, smiles became caresses which became lovemaking. He was just as vocal, just as passionate, and just as hot on his back as he’d been on his knees. The second joining was less frenzied, more tender. I kissed him throughout, murmuring little things to him as I rocked in and out, his body tight and hot around me. He touched me all over, his fingers tracing all the inkwork he could reach. He came in my hand again, his cock pulsing. Afterward, I used one of the new slate washcloths and wiped him clean, kissing and licking up droplets of his cum that the cloth may have accidentally-on-purpose missed.
At midnight we awoke, padded out to the kitchen to eat some ham slices on hearty rye bread and drink several bottles of water. With the lingering zip of hot mustard on his tongue, I took him back to the bedroom and into the bath. We shared the shower, his soapy hands moving up and down my back and ass then between my legs where he gently fondled my balls as his lips slid up and down my neck. I did the same for him, washing him top to bottom, even kneeling in front of him to slide my fingers between his long toes. I buried my face into his groin, inhaling the scent of soap and Bran from the thick thatch of dark hair at the base of his flaccid cock. This was all I ever wanted for the rest of my life. This man’s wonderful smell in my nostrils as his fingers moved lovingly through my wet hair, working conditioner into the hot pink strands.
Bellies full and skin clean, we fell into that big new bed and held each other close until sleep overtook me. Waking up several hours later didn’t take place to the squeal of an alarm clock or the chime of a cell phone. I came awake to the sensation of Bran Cavanaugh kissing along the outlines of a coiled snake on my back, to moving along my ribs and then to my hip as I rolled over to my back.
The sun was just peeking through the trees that surrounded his cabin. His jaw was thick with whiskers and his cock stiff as a new pencil. Seeing the lust in his gaze when he tongued the tat of the owl that rested on my abdomen, my cock filled and grew too.
“Now see, this here,” I reached down to take his dick in my hand when he straddled me, “isn’t supposed happen. You’re this old, middle-aged man who shouldn’t be able to get it up for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. Now me…” I slapped my pec, the one with the ink of the broken clock and my brother’s name, “I’m the young stud.” He rolled those amazing eyes of his as he reached for the lube and a condom. “I’m the one who pops a boner every ten minutes and jerks off fourteen times a day. What are you doing here, Bran?”
“I’m going to ride you like the stallion that you are.”
“I see what you did there,” I said around a chuckle.
He tore open the bright blue foil square then covered my dick with latex. He began to prep himself, one leg up and out to the side, he coated his fingers with lube then slid two up into himself. My cock kicked in jealousy. It wanted to be slipping and sliding in and out of his ass, it wanted to be making him sigh and moan and lick his lips. I stroked my envious dick. My gaze locked on what Bran was doing to himself. I bit back saying something several times before I caught on that he was waiting for me to be the aggressor. His sensual gaze would meet mine and then dart away. Fucking hell that shit turned me right on.
“Enough,” I growled. “Get on me. I want to make you groan like that.”
A shudder ran through him. He withdrew his fingers, wiped them on a cloth, and shimmied up over me, lowering his mouth to mine for a teasing sweep of his lips before he eased himself down onto my dick. Hands over my head, I wrapped my fingers around the headboard and let him move as he pleased. The tempo was slow at first, but then he picked up speed, his ass slapping down on my thighs loudly toward the end. I bucked up to give him more cock, shoving my heels into the mattress, the headboard groaning ominously as I strained to give him all I had. His fingers bit hard into my pecs. I thrust up harder, blowing apart just as he took his cock into his hand and began jerking it roughly. His head fell back, exposing his throat while he rotated his ass, rolling his hips in a circle that had me crying out his name.
He shot his load quickly, crying out as he came. I enjoyed the show, the way his cock shot pearly streams of spunk all over my belly and chest. Bran pumped his dick hard, squeezing the head as his inner muscles milked me dry. I shivered at the pull of his ass. He dropped forward, arms bolstering him, and licked at the few white droplets of semen on my chest. I released the headboard and carded my fingers through his short hair, grabbing it and pushing him downward to clean up the rest of me. When he was done, I pulled him back to my mouth, rolling him to his back, diving into his mouth deep so to smear my taste over both of our tongues.
“I might have to talk about you at the next meeting,” I murmured over his swollen lips. His smoky blue eyes widened questioningly. “You’re fucking addictive.”
“Mm, okay, I know I shouldn’t like that but I kind of do.” I plastered my mouth over his, and we laid there tasting and kissing until his phone alarm went off. “I do not feel like going to work today.”
“Call in and give the boss some bullshit story,” I whispered against his clavicle, my leg resting between his, the need to take care of my condom not quite bad enough to make me move.
“That only works when you’re not the boss,” he countered, kissed the top of my head, and gave me a playful shove that gave him enough leeway to leave the bed. I flopped to my belly, yawned, and drifted back off. When I next woke up the sun was streaming through the window and my dick was now condom-free.
“Shit,” I mumbled, sitting up, fuchsia hair in my face, and pawed through the covers to find the mess I’d made. It didn’t take long. “What a mess.”
I got up, stripped the bed, and tossed the condom into the trash in the bathroom. A quick shower followed. I scrubbed my nuts and dick twice because man it was a gummy mess down there, then I went off to find Bran. Ass bare I padded out to the living room, scratching my belly and squinting at the brilliant late July sun streaming into his house. I found my shorts on the floor by the sofa, so I stepped into them, happy to go commando today. The place was too quiet, so I turned on the tunes and “Sweet Caroline” blared to life. Now even I knew this one. The sounds of someone rustling around in the kitchen drew me that way. I slid around the door, grinning, eager to grab a goodbye kiss from Bran. Only it wasn’t Bran standing at the coffee pot, it was his uncle, the honorable Morton the judge. The smile fell right off my face. Morton, who I just now noticed had dark blue eyes, looked up from stirring coffee into his mug.
“I, uhm…” I said because what did one say at a time like this? “Bran leave for work already?”
“Obviously,” the judge said, placing his spoon on the bright yellow coffee mat beside the pot then lifting the cup to his mouth. He was a distinguished man, silver strands streaking the dark waves on his head. Lean, fit, dressed for relaxation not judging. Although maybe judges do wear tan shorts and a green shirt with tiny white buttons under their robes. What do I know? “Do I want to know why you’re here half-dressed and fresh from his shower?”
“No, sir, probably not.”
He studied me as he sipped on his coffee. Since I am who I am, I strolled over and poured myself a cup and then leaned my ass to the counter where I perused him over the rim of my cup. He lowered his mug, his lips set in a line. Just the way Bran used to when we first met. Must be that icy look was genetic.
“So, you two are sleeping together.” I nodded even though he’d not asked but simply stated the obvious fact. I was here, half-naked, with red welts on my back from Bran’s passionate clawing and probably more than one love bite. “I assumed that was coming since he’d cleaned out his bedroom. Are you going to be an item?”
“Well, sir, I kind of doubt much will come of it even though we do care for each other a great deal.” No need to tell this prune that we’d fallen in love. He’d just purse his lips and tsk-tsk me, citing the many reasons we wouldn’t work. “I’m going to be playing in Manhattan if my personal objectives are reached this season. I’m not going to ask him to be in a relationship where he’s in Syracuse and I’m in New York City.”
“So this is just sex then?” Some of the tension left his face.
“Sure, yeah, it’s just sex.” That hurt really badly to say, but it would probably end up being the truth. Long distance did not work. I’d seen too many teammates lose partners to infidelity or emotional abandonment issues. Traveling from October to May or June crushed a lot of relationships. “And we like each other. He deserves a little…” I had to swallow down the L word that sprang up instantly. “…happiness. It’s been two years since he lost his husband.”
