by A. M. Riley
Freddie steepled his fingers in front of his face and leaned his forehead on them. “I hate to do anything to hurt him.”
A soft smile creased Jim’s face. “We always feel that way about the ones we love, but you can only do your best.”
“See, you can just say that.”
“You have to trust him.”
“That’s what Paul says.”
“Paul is, occasionally, right.”
“Only occasionally?” said Paul, coming in from the bedroom. “Sorry, had to do that conference call.”
“How’s the deal going?”
“Ah. If I don’t get an ulcer, it’ll be great.”
“Don’t talk like that in front of Brian,” said Jim. “Brian has become convinced lately that we are old and feeble and prone to geriatric illnesses. He’s been hounding me about our diet.”
Freddie laughed. “He must have been talking to Joshua. Joshua’s got me eating oatmeal every morning. I don’t even know how it happened.”
“Hmm, sounds like something Brian would do.”
“Yes, Scott would just sit there and tell you how unhealthy whatever you were eating was until you’d be unable to swallow it.”
Freddie stared at him. “That’s what Joshua does when I smoke my pipe.”
Paul grinned. “Three evil little minds working together.”
* * * *
“So. First you have a housewarming and invite all of us.” Brian was sitting on the hot tub, holding the football between his knees, and enumerating a list to Joshua. “Then Scott and I give you gifts. Freddie can’t say anything because they’re gifts.”
“Geronimo!” There was a streak of golden skin and a giant sploosh behind Brian. Water rained on him from above, and he whirled. “Scott!”
Scott paddled to the side, looking pleased with himself. “Time for the wet boxers contest, gentlemen. I’ll be the judge, and you be the contestants.”
Joshua looked shyly at Brian, but he wasn’t as easily embarrassed by either young man these days. “Can I tell you what I want?”
Brian looked delighted. “Yeah?”
“You know that, um, leather thing you, um, wrap around your, um, you know.”
Brian and Scott exchanged looks. “Oh, I’m sure we can find a cock-and-ball ring somewhere around here,” said Brian.
“I’ll have to check for size,” said Scott.
Joshua grinned. “Freddie wouldn’t like…”
“No!” said Scott. “I thought we had you trained to stop saying that.” He swam to the other side of the hot tub and so missed the look Joshua gave him.
“Are they still playing football?” asked Paul.
Jim peered out the window. “Sitting by the hot tub.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Planning something.”
“Should we be worried?” asked Freddie.
Jim shrugged fatalistically.
Paul laughed. “Jim and I used to worry. Now we just practice damage control.”
“You make us sound like old men, Paul,” said Jim. “It’s only been a couple of years.”
Freddie shook his head. “You seem like old hands to me. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask how late is too late to call? In the event that someone might have an emergency question?”
“You’ll be fine,” said Paul.
The back door banged open, and Brian came running in. He was filthy and wet, the football jersey slapping around his knees as he ran. “Joshua fell in the hot tub,” he said, laughing.
Freddie stood. “He fell in?”
“Well, actually, Scott took off his clothes and jumped in, and Joshua threw Scott’s clothes over the fence, so Scott pulled him in, and I was just sitting there.” Big, innocent blue eyes under dripping-wet blond hair. “And they got me wet too, but not as bad as they are, so, anyway, they wanted me to come in the house and get them some clean, dry clothes.”
He trotted down the hallway, feet making wet splat noises on the wood as he went.
Jim sighed. “I’ll go do something about this.” He rose and looked down at Freddie. “How are you feeling?”
“Well, I’m not as worried about Joshua,” Freddie admitted, “as long as he has Brian and Scott. I am a little worried about me.”
“What are you two looking at?”
Jim came into the bedroom, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. Joshua and Freddie had said good night hours ago, and the sounds from the bedroom at the end of the hall had ceased. Paul was still finishing paperwork in his room, and Brian and Scott lay on their bellies in their boxers on the waterbed, looking at a magazine.
“Goldilocks thinks he needs a tattoo,” said Scott.
“Scott’s just afraid that if I get one, you’ll want him to get one too.”
Scott snorted, but Jim said, “Scott knows I’d never ask him to do anything he didn’t want to do.”
Those pretty eyes rolled toward him and away. “Stupid idea anyway,” said Scott. “What’s that one mean?”
“Chinese character for courage,” read Brian. “Hey, look, a bear print.”
Scott pulled the magazine out of Brian’s hands. “What kind of moron would want that on their butt? Or…would you have this on your thigh?”
“I want a slinky-looking red dragon around my belly.” Brian rolled onto his back so he could demonstrate the placement of the dragon. His boxers were definitely tented. Which figured because, peering over their shoulders at the thing, Jim could see that half the models were nude men.
Scott noticed Brian’s condition as well. “Here?” he said, lightly tracing the circle with his finger.
Brian looked at him, eyelids half closed, mouth half-opened. “Yeah. Um. No. A little lower.”
“Here?” Scott looked up at Brian, his eyes glowing. And he slid his fingers under the waistband of Brian’s shorts. “Oh, look, Goldilocks. I found your dragon.”
The head of Brian’s cock emerged from the elastic, and Scott bent over and wrapped his lips around it slowly.
Jim set down his dish towel, shed his jeans, and went up behind Scott, wrapping his arms around his chest and nibbling at his ear.
Scott hmmmed approval, either of what he had in his mouth or of what Jim was doing, and Brian lifted his knees, shedding his boxers and opening his legs so that Scott could really get down in there.
That pretty bubble butt had been soaking in a hot tub for an hour, and Jim just couldn’t resist it. He held both cheeks in his hands, licking the pretty pink pucker around and around.
He felt a hand on his leg and somebody’s mouth on his calf and wriggled down to accommodate what was probably Brian’s mouth sucking on the head of his penis.
“Hey,” said Paul. And Jim saw, out of the corner of his eye, two booted feet. Then one booted foot. Then a booted foot and a bare foot. Then one bare foot. Then a pelvis and a cock at his cheek and, with a “May I cut in?” Paul was poking at Scott’s wet hole.
Scott made a very, very enthusiastic sound, and this somehow translated into Brian arching and moaning, and that translated into a very nice buzz along Jim’s cock. He moaned and found Scott’s lips on his for just a minute.
“Oh. God, don’t stop,” he heard Brian cry, and Scott’s mouth was gone, and the suction on Jim’s prick was suddenly intense and needy, and the sound of slapping flesh just by his face was loud. Scott’s knees dug into the mattress. Now Brian’s hand helped his mouth, tugging at Jim’s balls.
“Oh. Daddy. Oh,” Brian cried. His breathing was loud in the room for several minutes, and then Scott’s mouth was on Jim’s again, the taste of come on his tongue. Jim cried out as his orgasm snaked down Brian’s eager throat, and Scott moved his face into Jim’s shoulders, butting him like a little goat as both he and Paul moaned, and then they collapsed on top of and sort of sideways across Brian and Jim.
Men breathed, and someone sort of laughed, and then there was a knock at the door.
Jim arched his head back and saw a very sleepy and rumpled-looking Freddie standing the
re. He wore loose sleep pants and had love bites all over his chest. Jim smiled. Oh, he was going to rib Freddie in the morning about those hickies.
“Sounds like someone’s being killed in here,” said Freddie.
“That’s Brian,” said Scott from somewhere under Jim’s arm. “He’s loud.”
“I am not loud,” said Brian. And his head popped up from between Jim’s legs. “I’m encouraging. Paul screams.”
“Screams?” said Paul in outrage.
“It was all of you,” said Freddie. “And I wouldn’t mind, except we have to meet the movers early tomorrow morning.”
“Sorry,” said a chorus of voices.
“Thank you,” sighed Freddie and padded off again.
There was giggling and then some smooching and wiggling and finally some sighing and rearranging of limbs. The bed was big and warm, and in a few minutes, they could all hear Paul snoring.
“Poor old Papa Bear,” said Brian. “Can we sleep in your bed tonight, Mama?”
“You can sleep in our bed any night you want,” said Jim.
And that was exactly what they did.
Loose Id Titles by A. M. Riley
Amor en Retrogrado
Immortality is the Suck
No Rest for the Wicked
The Elegant Corpse
The GOLDILOCKS Series
Goldilocks and His Three Bears
A Man, a Jersey, and a Tight End
Interludes and Flings
What to Buy for the Vamp Who Has Everything
An erotic interlude featuring characters from the titles
Immortality is the Suck and No Rest for the Wicked
A. M. Riley
AM Riley is a film editor and sometime poet living and working in Los Angeles, California. Besides writing murder mysteries and urban paranormal, Riley loves ice hockey, police blogs, and politics.
Riley loves feedback and pictures of your pets or any ice hockey players you’ve managed to get close to.
You can find Riley at http://www.amriley.net
