by BA Tortuga
“Oh man. Cancer? Sucks.” The grapes were munched, then some cheese. “So you live here now forever?”
“God, I hope not.” Lord. He’d not want that. He had the money to do anything—not just from Morrie. He was a self-made man in his own right. “I’m not one to stay in one place. But I’ll keep the house.”
Morgan nodded. “I hear that. I’m sort of a gypsy myself.”
“Yeah.” They kinda sat, munching and leaning and just… quiet, which was odd, considering.
Morgan reached up and pulled the tie from his hair, the dark mass sort of falling around the thin face, completely changing the way the man looked.
It was… wow. Max blinked, remembered he still had his cap on. He took it off, ran his hand over his shaved scalp. “I like your hair.” He blinked again. Well, hell.
“Oh, thanks.” Morgan watched his hand. “Is it smooth or stubbly?”
“Huh? Oh, right now I’m stubbly.” Rough as a cob. He needed to shave.
“Can I feel?”
“Sure.” He bent his head, leaning forward, having no damned idea why he was anticipating it so much.
Morgan scooted forward, fingers cool and careful as they slid over his head. The touch wasn’t tentative, was sure and forward, stroking his scalp. “Wow. Wicked.”
“I’m pretty much bald front and back, so I just shave the sides and middle.” No one had ever called it wicked before. Max shivered, looking up at Morgan under his eyelashes.
“It’s sexy as fuck, man. The textures….” Morgan looked fascinated.
The drag of Morgan’s fingers pulling the stubble back and forth was actually making him damned horny. So was the guy’s scent, which wasn’t girly at all. It was spicy, sharp, male. Made him want to put his nose against Morgan’s neck and sniff deep, and without even thinking about it, he did.
“Mmm….” Morgan’s pointed chin lifted, fingers dragging over his nape.
“You smell good.” Lame, Max. Lame as a horse in the hobbles too long. He let his lips and tongue work for him instead of against him, licking a patch of bare skin.
“Oh. Hot.” Morgan moved, shifted, ended up in his lap.
“Yeah.” Really hot. The leather pants were nice and smooth under his hands as he gripped Morgan’s ass, and the skin at Morgan’s collar was scalding, salty.
“Mmm-hmm….” That was a sweet sound, sex-kitten purr mixed with a rich, low groan.
Damn. Max went ahead and squeezed his double handful of ass, tested his teeth on that warm skin, seeing what that would draw out.
“Oh, that’s…. Yeah.” Morgan moaned and wiggled, hips in his hands, that leather heating up for his touch.
Even better. Morgan had a great voice. Max rolled his hips up, rocking nice and hard.
Morgan snuggled right into him, rubbing back, giving him all that heat to touch and squeeze.
“You feel good too.” Yeah. And Morgan would feel even better under his hands without that silky shirt on, so Max started unbuttoning it.
Morgan’s lips moved over his head, brushing, just parted, tongue just teasing. “Oh, pure sex….”
It made him jump, that touch, made other parts of him leap to attention too. He ran his hands up Morgan’s back, savoring the feel of the bumpy spine, the warm flesh.
“So lucky you were there to slip behind.” Morgan’s tongue teased his ear, the piercing bumping him.
“Glad you did, even if I did wonder if I was losing it.” He brought his hands around, fingers sliding over Morgan’s concave belly, up over his chest to press against his nipples.
Oh, those were pierced too, the metal warm and smooth.
“Uhn…. Nope. Not losing it. Not at all. Fuck, you’ve got nice hands.”
“You. Shit, where else are you pierced?” Oh, that was… wow. Max grabbed one of the little bits of metal, pulling it lightly.
“Mmm… gotta love a man who’s not scared of touching them.” Morgan took his hand, drew it between those thin legs, a hard bump stretching the leather between Morgan’s balls and ass.
Oh fuck. Max moaned, pushing Morgan back until he tumbled to the floor, and worked on those leather pants. He had to see.
Morgan chuckled, wiggling and helping, giving him a look at a long, hard cock, pubes shaved down to a bare line, before Morgan went to hands and knees, that heavy ring right fucking there.
“Jesus. That’s amazing.” He’d never in his life seen anything like it, and he wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin. Max reached out, touched, gentle but firm.
Morgan stretched, legs spreading some. “It doesn’t hurt. Just tugs deep inside.”
“Yeah? You mean when someone does this?” He couldn’t help it; he just had to pull at it, roll it. Not too hard, because a man had tender spots, but damn.
“Sweet fuck, yes!”
The scent was even stronger there, down between Morgan’s legs, and Max was all for that. He loved the way a man smelled, rich with earth and musk. He bent, nuzzled those surprisingly heavy balls from behind, fingers still working.
“Oh. Oh, you’re something special.” Morgan’s voice didn’t hold anything back, all sex and need and rumbling desire.
“Me?” He laughed, breath moving over Morgan’s skin, finally unable to resist the urge to catch that ring in his teeth. Lord, he wasn’t usually so fast to move, but there was something about how uninhibited Morgan was that made him brave.
“You. Oh….” Morgan’s shoulders dropped, hips swaying, pushing back toward his face.
Yeah. Him. And that little sliver of metal. And Morgan’s ass, which looked delectable. He cupped it in his palms, holding Morgan still to play with those balls, moving them with his tongue, his chin.
Soft babble filled the air, little cries and low words just pouring out, letting him hear how good it was.
Without even thinking, Max spread those taut asscheeks and slid the tip of his index finger right in, all the way to the second knuckle. Oh. Sweet. Hot. Soft as anything. He moaned against Morgan’s skin, hips rolling, jeans too, too tight.
“Oh fuck. Yes. Feel you. Damn.” Morgan lifted his head, panting. “Just damn.”
“You’re something else.” Did he say that already? Damn, the man was just a picture of need, and Max bent, taking Morgan’s balls into his mouth, easy and gentle.
“Oh…,” Morgan whimpered, entire body rippling, shivering. Those heavy sacs were heated, velvet soft, wrinkling and shifting under his tongue.
He reached between Morgan’s legs with his free hand, gathering his legs under him so he didn’t need a hand to brace, and grabbed Morgan’s cock, both hands working in time with his mouth. Lick, suck, rub, push in….
Morgan jerked, humping his hand, heat sliding over his fingers, the scent of sex sudden and heady.
“God, you smell so damned good. Taste good. How did you get to me so fast?” He was babbling, just groaning, touching. Needing.
“The stars, maybe. Who knows? Who cares? Fuck me?”
“I don’t have anything.” He wanted to. Oh man, he wanted to, but he’d kinda not planned on ever bringing anyone here.
“I do. In my bag. Just bought them on a whim. Rainbow colored.” Morgan reached for his bag, dug out a line of six rainbow-colored rubbers.
Oh God. There was such a thing as blind luck. Max grabbed one, pondered what to use for lube while he tried to get his jeans undone. He almost hurt himself, and hoped to heck he didn’t hurt Morgan pulling away, because the guy teetered.
Morgan turned, fingers joining with his, working his jeans open, sweater up. “Want to see.”
“Oh.” He dropped the condom, let Morgan undress him. He knew his own body pretty well. Knew what it would do, what Morgan would see. Tight, lean muscles designed to work long and hard. Tattoos around both biceps. An appendectomy scar. Another scar on his chest where a gusher had caught a piece of metal and driven it right into him. But he wanted to see what Morgan thought. Wanted to know if he was as fine to Morgan as the man was to him.
“Oh
. Oh, look at you….” Morgan’s lips were on his chest, fingers exploring and rubbing and searching. “You’re so…. Damn. You taste. Yeah. What happened to your chest?” Those fingers trailed along the scar, then that hot, pierced tongue.
“I…. Uh….” He had to think, and it was so hard. Not as hard as his cock, but close. “It was a rig accident. Pressure. Bent metal. Bleeding.”
“Ow.” It was licked again, Morgan’s fingers fishing out his cock, stroking it. “Oh. Oh, I want. I want this.”
“Yeah. I have… oil. Over there.” He pointed vaguely to his little bar area. He liked a little oil with bread, a habit he’d picked up in Italy.
“’Kay.” Morgan nodded, crawled over, ass swaying, tempting him.
He almost dislocated something getting out of the rest of his clothes, pumping his cock while he waited, watching. Oh, and the condom was… there. Never let it be said he couldn’t do focused when he had to.
Of course, the sight of Morgan stretched up on his knees, oil-slick fingers easing into that tiny hole?
That was something to focus on.
“Christ almighty, you’re gonna kill me.” He was gonna stroke right out, just bust a vein. He wanted that so damned bad that he found himself crawling to Morgan instead of waiting for him to come back in range. Shoving Morgan to his belly, he spread the man wide.
Oh yeah, flexible, that ring catching the light.
“Yeah. Oh yeah.” No more waiting. Max just grabbed and lifted that ass, pushing his covered cock against Morgan’s hole, testing.
Morgan groaned, bore down and rocked against his cock, perfect heat taking him right in.
“God.” That was tight. So tight, hot, just damned good. Max found his equilibrium finally, rocked forward, started fucking like he was good at it.
Morgan’s hands moved constantly, steadily—on him, on Morgan, flicking that nipple ring, stroking his scar.
He just moved, biting, licking whatever skin he could reach, touching all over. Max pushed, cock sliding in and out, better than anything he’d had in a long, long time.
“Don’t stop. Damn. So fucking deep.” Morgan’s hips rocked, bucked.
“Not gonna. Couldn’t now.” No way he could stop any more than a man could stop an oil leak by sticking his finger in the rock. It was too damned good. He moved harder, faster, giving it good.
Morgan just took and took, hips jerking, meeting him dead-on, their skin slapping.
Max tried to hold on until he thought Morgan was close. He groped blindly, found Morgan’s cock, and rubbed and jerked.
Morgan nodded, heels pressing into his thighs. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s it.”
“Oh, good.” He laughed, then bit down hard on Morgan’s neck, white noise taking over his brain as he shot and shot, hips jerking wildly.
Heat hit his fingers, Morgan vibrating beneath him.
Max wheezed, blinking, still stroking Morgan lightly, lips and tongue rubbing on Morgan’s skin. “Wow.”
“Uh-huh.” Morgan nodded, fingers sliding over his head. “Wow.”
“Damn.” They almost toppled over, but he caught them, sort of turned and hauled Morgan against him, intent on the couch.
Morgan went easy, curled into him, hand holding on.
Well, hell. It would be just as easy as pie to take the man to bed. Max heaved up to his feet, pulling Morgan with him, and staggered into the enormous bedroom. He’d left the dark wood tester bed and all of the fancy furnishings, but he’d put his own sheets and blankets on the bed, so it was an incongruous mix of classical and camp Max.
“Mmm. Big and cushy.” Morgan stroked his belly, his hips. “I snuggle.”
“’S okay. I don’t mind.” He usually slept with the dogs. He would hope Morgan drooled and farted less. “Long as I don’t wake up with all my shit gone and the police looking at me.”
“Uh. So not my style. I have an allowance.” Morgan chuckled, winked.
“Me too.” Blinking slow, Max wrapped right around Morgan, nuzzling in so he could breathe their scent. Hot. Fucking hot. “Nap.”
“Uh-huh.” Soft and warm and quiet, Morgan snuggled in, breath steady on his throat.
He’d wonder later at the relative wisdom of letting someone he didn’t know for shit into his house and into his bed. For now? Max just decided that the jingling wraith who slid behind him in an English pub must have been meant to meet him and that he’d sleep on it. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
It always did.
Chapter Two
MORGAN WRAPPED his jacket around himself, tugging the collar up against the rain. Miserable weather lately. Maybe it was time to head south. Italy, maybe. Or Brazil.
Somewhere warm and lush and green.
He shivered, trying to decide whether to go to his little private flat or his official rooms or just find a pub to hide in for a few hours. There was no way he was bringing his flute out into this shit.
His reverie was broken by the feel of a solid shoulder slamming into his, almost knocking him back on his ass on the wet pavement.
“Careful! Christ, this isn’t a fucking football field.” He winced, rubbing his shoulder.
“Shit! Sorry. I didn’t even see….”
The voice rang a bell. So did the tall, rangy body, even if it was topped by a cowboy hat this time instead of a cap. He grinned up. “Well, cowboy! Rescue me on one meeting, beat me on the next.”
“Oh. Hey.” He got a half smile that turned into a thunderous frown. “You’re a hell of a houseguest, leaving without a word.”
He backed up a step or two. “Didn’t know I was one. A houseguest. I left my cell number.”
“You did? Oh.” Now Max just looked… embarrassed. “Sorry. I…. It wasn’t there when I woke up. ’Course the maid, or whatever the hell she is, was in….”
Morgan grinned, shook his head, then moved closer, reached out, and grabbed Max’s phone off his belt. He found the address book, scrolled down, and found his name. “See? Right here.”
“Oh. Well, how in hell was I supposed to know that?” Max grinned back. “I never call anyone.”
“Oh, good to know.” He looked Max over, nodded. “I like the hat.”
“Thanks. Keeps the rain off better.” Max reached out, wiped a drop of rain off his nose.
“Yeah. I was just wishing for something warm and lush.” There was electricity—pure and sharp and settling in his balls—whenever they touched. Still. Wow.
“Yeah?” Shifting from one old cowboy boot to another, Max nodded. “It’s wet as a dog in a creek. Want to have dinner with me?”
“Oh, I’d like that.” A dog in a creek…. Oh damn. That was adorable, as adorable as anything pure, walking sex could be.
“Cool. We could… uh, well, I was going to say we could go back to my place, but Morrie’s sister is there.” The tone and the look on Max’s face explained easily why Max was out walking in Soho in the rain.
“Oh. Family. Ew. I have a little place. I mean, there’s a big, fancy place too, with better food, but there’s a private place next to a fab little Italian bistro….”
“I like Italian.” That grin was pure fire. Just hot enough to melt him, sexy and full of anticipation. “Antipasto stuff we can eat with our fingers?”
“Yeah, and these great red wines you can buy by the bottle. It’s like….” He took Max’s hand, started walking. “Like drinking velvet.”
“Oh yeah. I love a wine you have to strain with your teeth.” The hand in his hung slack for half a minute, but soon enough Max curled those long fingers around his and held on.
“We can get it all to go. I have cushions and candles in my flat. Oh, and a sweet little balcony with an awning.” He loved his little walkup. The walls were painted a deep, lush purple; the furniture was all cushions and soft.
“Oh, that sounds about as good as anything I’ve heard in a month of Sundays.” Moving a little closer, Max rubbed shoulders with him, bumping hips.
“Mmm. Yeah?” He leaned a little, the r
ain not seeming nearly so gloomy. “Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Oh, I was just…. Getting away. Took a cab, told him to stop wherever and let me out.” Max’s oddly light brown eyes dipped, the brim of the hat covering them so he couldn’t see.
“Oh wow. And you found me.” He beamed, squeezed Max’s hand. “Must be fate.”
“Yeah.” Max gave him a glimmer of a look, a smile. “Must be. From now on I’ll check my cell phone.”
“I’ll know to call first.” He winked, winding through the streets until they got to Mama Leone’s, the twinkling white lights familiar and almost magical in the growing mist.
“Smells good. Real good.” Max’s thumb slid over his hand, slow and easy, caressing his skin.
“They have the best food.” He was buzzing, vibrating. Wanting another taste of that salty skin.
“Remember. Finger food.” Oh, there was a growl in that voice now, something that just sent a shiver down his spine.
He nodded, purring a little, cock going hard in his pants. “Salve, Signora Leone. Come piove stasera! Vorrei ordinare i due antipasti, prego. E una bottiglia di vino, per favore.”
Morgan paid, and they moved off to wait for their food after he had a nice chat with the signora. Max was just looking at him, hat in his hand, a little smile on his face.
The temptation to reach up, stroke the bald head, see if he could make Max moan again—it was huge.
Those eyes went two shades darker, Max swaying close to him for a moment before moving back. Something must have showed on his face maybe, because Max had this “I’d rather eat you than dinner” look all of a sudden.
He licked his lips, teeth playing with the metal in his tongue. They hadn’t even kissed. Oh, they’d touched and fucked and licked, but….
Kisses.
Morgan liked kisses.
“It clicks when you do that.”
He grinned. “I have to do something. I want to kiss you.”
“Oh.” Cheeks going bright red, Max sucked his lower lip in and chewed on it. “I want you to too.”
