Walking Away

by Xavier Neal

  The breathless sobbing of my name is what finally breaks the salacious spell I’ve fallen under.

  My mouth reluctantly detaches itself, and I beam up at the beautiful woman I can hardly believe I get to call mine.

  Gwenny doesn’t bother saying anything. She yanks me up by the tie and bereaves us both from the breath we desperately need.

  Lesson. Fucking. Learned. We all want and need to be pushed. We’re all craving for a bit of fight and most importantly, craving a person not only willing to withstand the blows, but to strike back.

  I stroll into Gwenny and Jason’s living room with a small black bag in my hand.

  Jason eyes dart my direction, but he doesn’t muster up a greeting.

  “Key works.” After flashing him the new accessory our girl gave me, I shove it in my pocket. “Gwenny dropped it off this morning.”

  “You mean when she ran to you to bitch about me?”

  The clipped tone is expected. “Yeah.”

  Jason huffs and diverts his attention back to the Animal Planet show he’s watching. “Surprise. Fucking. Surprise.”

  I scan his unpleasant disposition from a distance. His entire body is stiff. Arms folded defensively across his chest. Jaw locked and ticking. It’s obvious the last thing he wants to do is talk, which is going to make the victory of getting him to do it just a tab bit sweeter.

  “Why the fuck are you here?” He grumps. “Shouldn’t you be out shoving papers in people’s faces or whatever it is you do when you’re not eating pizza?”

  His jab isn’t a full punch yet enough to inform me of his desire for solitude. “Playing hookie today.”

  The subpoena I planned to serve this morning has to wait thanks to a little impromptu decision for the dick bag to go to Fiji. Normally, I would complain, but spending the day drinking whiskey and watching ‘80s action movies with the man I like, is a phenomenal alternative. His pathetic effort to evade getting one since he knows it’s coming is allowing me to enjoy my day rather than stalk his. While I have other clients whose lives I could be combing through for routes to deliver their inevitable ‘The Jig is Up’ papers, I think my time will be better spent continuing to rile up the people I care about, so they can face their fucking issues. Besides, I rarely take a day. The Dornans can deal.

  I toss the plastic bag on the loveseat and shove my hands into my pockets. “Wanna talk about what’s got you so pissy?”

  “Wanna brush my hair into pigtails when we’re done?”

  “Handle bars do make it easier to keep you in place when you’re sucking my cock.”

  “I’m not sucking your fucking cock,” he growls, this time meeting my eyes.

  “Why not?” My body moves closer to his. “Because you can’t get yours touched?”

  Like I expected, he balls his fist and hauls it towards my open chest.

  It’s immediately caught before it can make contact. “You wouldn’t hit Gwenny, you don’t fucking hit me.”

  The remark causes him to snatch his hand away.

  “You don’t hit the ones you love.” My choice of phrasing has my mouth rushing to add, “Or care about.”

  Because this isn’t love. We are nowhere near that fucking department. At least, as far as I’m aware. Never really been in that general direction. Just thinking about being that direction has me tossing around the idea of faking an emergency to get my ass away from dealing with the semantics of the subject.

  “Sorry,” Jason apologizes to my surprise.

  Almost positive I misheard him, I lean forward. “What’s that now?”

  He grinds out the word an additional time. “Sorry.”

  A triumphant smirk crosses my lips. Rather than rub it further in his face, I state, “I’d never take a swing at you.”

  His green eyes fill with guilt.

  “Wanna talk about what happened at therapy?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna talk about why you’re taking it out on Gwenny?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna talk about how she swung by my apartment this morning and came on my face?” The drop of information lowers his brow at the same time I plant both my hands firmly on the arms of his chair. “Or do you wanna talk about how I can’t wait to come on yours?

  He tries to hide his excitement over the idea. “Move.”

  “Or what?”

  Jason’s eyes narrow.

  “You know what I think your problem is?”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “I think you have a problem with control.”

  “This from the asshole holding me fucking hostage in my own house?”

  A smirk appears effortlessly. “I think because you can’t force your body to do the shit you want it to do, you won’t let it enjoy the shit it likes to do.”

  He begins to glower, which prompts my fingers to give his nipple a tug. Jason moans against his volition.

  “Just because your dick won’t join the fun doesn’t mean you can’t have any at all.”

  His mouth twitches to argue, but stops to groan when I repeat the action on the other side. My smile expands as I watch his body tense for a new reason. He makes an effort to pull himself away just like Gwenny did earlier, and I swiftly relocate my free hand to stop the attempted flee.

  “Take. It.”

  A rugged moan rumbles in the back of his throat while his green eyes become slightly hooded.

  “You don’t let Gwenny touch you, do you?”

  The hesitation to answer causes me to apply more pressure until he does.

  “No.”

  “Why not?” My hand guides itself across his chest back to the original victim. “Not any good at it?”

  “You know that’s not true,” he hisses and pushes his body into my touch.

  I continue my exploration of his taut chest, hypnotized by the heat. The hardness. The harsh edges. Torn between being envious of its impeccable size and turned on by the changes in his breathing, I find myself staring down the barrel of conflicting feelings once more.

  Never in my life did I think I’d do the things I’ve done with this man. I’ve never considered myself gay or even next-door neighbors with being attracted to men, but it’s like my body barely registers Jason as a guy. Whenever shit gets sexual, he stops being the dude I watch basketball with and becomes the person I can’t wait to get me off. The reaction to his touch is identical to the one I get with Gwenny, yet completely different. I crave the roughness of his calloused hands and the intoxicating smell of his woodsy deodorant. I love the way he groans and grinds his body just as much as I love the way Gwenny moans and rocks hers. The logical part of my mind wants to tack on labels and explore possible past moments that could’ve hinted being into men was always a possibility, while the other part wants it to just shut the fuck up and enjoy it. What’s the big fucking deal if we’re all consenting, happy adults? Can’t I just wanna blow one male without wanting to blow them all?

  Jason’s groans get louder, shutting down the engine on the runaway train. He swiftly relocates his hands to the hem of his shirt and begins to lift. His newly exposed chest receives all my attention. I trace the sharply cut display with my eyes before promptly doing it with my tongue.

  The minute my mouth connects to his skin he shudders, “Damn….”

  Peering up, I watch for his response as I capture one of his hard nipples between my teeth.

  Jason’s entire body rocks towards mine. “Fuck….”

  “That’s my word,” I playfully scold between pulls.

  His fingers abandon their posts to anchor themselves into my hair.

  The unsolicited command yanks a hungry groan out of me, and I suck harder. My tongue whirls around and around taking my mind with it. I bounce between his pecs, nipping and teasing, licking and flicking until he’s grumbling my name in an endless succession. At that point my mouth lunges for his, anxious to lap up the sounds seeping free. Our mouths collide with so much force it knocks us both unsteady. Jason quickly gra
bs me by the tie to keep us locked together and his tongue violently knocks into mine. Each bump exchanged is brutal and bodacious. Each crash is accompanied with whines and whimpers. Each impact is designed to devour and destroy.

  My hand slides down his gym shorts covered lap, straight for his balls. I give them a good cup and enjoy the way it falters his actions.

  He slightly pulls back showing me the perplexity and enthusiasm coursing through his eyes.

  “You like that?” The pressure increases stealing another groan from him. “Want me to teach Gwenny to touch you like this?” I roll around his heavy sac the same I do when I’m jerking myself off. “To fuck you without fucking you?”

  Jason’s breath shortens and his eyes threaten to fall shut.

  Regardless of the fact his dick hasn’t even twitched, I know he’s close to getting off.

  The idea of making them both come in one day has me dragging his bottom lip between my teeth.

  He groans and grips my tie tighter. “Do it.”

  I give his bottom lip a graze with my tongue unsure of what he’s demanding. “Do what?”

  “Come on my face.”

  This time it’s my actions that waver. “Seriously?”

  Our movements cease, and we exchange a silent moment that eradicates my uncertainty.

  I give Jason’s balls one last good squeeze before completely removing my touch. Our eyes stay locked as I drop my pants and boxer briefs. With one hand gripping my shaft, I allow the other to slip through the back of his blonde tangles. He groans, but doesn’t inch his face forward in an attempt to touch or taste me. He simply remains paralyzed in place, focused on watching my hand ferociously pump. It doesn’t take long before my stroking begins to sync up with the yanking of Jason’s head. Each pull parts his lips wider, and all I wanna do is bury my dick between them. The idea melds with our mutual moans, and the orgasm I was denied unleashing early returns with a vengeance.

  “Fuck!” I shout and jerk his face closer to my cock.

  Hot rush after rush of cum races towards his gaping mouth. His tongue snakes out to catch a taste, and my body almost collapses underneath me. The thick cream makes a wide mess from the corner of his lips down to the cut of his jaw. Seeing his stoic appearance soaking in my satisfaction tempts my dick to start stirring again.

  Jason wets his lips slowly, collecting the droplets that landed there. “Now I definitely need a fucking shower.”

  “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for that shit.”

  A snicker is snatched from both of us.

  “You need to learn to fucking aim….”

  I begin the process of pulling my clothes back up. “We’ll practice again later.”

  We laugh loudly, and it’s crystal clear the great wall of Jason has fallen once more.

  Yeah. This is definitely a better way to spend my day than working. Obviously, they both need me for themselves and to help reach each other. Isn’t it alright to occasionally put your significant others above work? If it’s not, fuck it. It’s what I’m doing. And whether or not it’s what the world thinks is “right”, doesn’t fucking matter. I’m happy like this. Really happy. So fucking happy it terrifies me….

  “You know you’re kind of a dick for making me work on my day off,” Hudson grouses from the covered patio area to the right of me.

  I roll myself a little closer to the flower bed we have been working on and do my best to evenly spread a little more dirt. “You’re the one who asked what I wanted to do today.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause I thought it would be something fun like drink a couple of beers and watch Baywatch reruns.”

  My face snaps his direction. “I didn’t even like Baywatch when it was on T.V.. Why the hell would I watch reruns?”

  “What do you mean you didn’t like Baywatch?” His scoff is followed by him taking a bite of the just delivered pizza from his favorite restaurant. “What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s classic Pam Anderson-”

  “Blondes with big fake tits were never really my thing.”

  Best example to support this is of course my dark haired, very natural wife.

  “And the one and only David Hasselhoff. An American legend.”

  I shake my head quickly. “No. Chuck Norris is an American legend.”

  “Why are we dating?”

  On a chuckle, I retort, “Because you’re the only guy I’d ever let blow his load on my face.”

  “Twice,” Hudson adds cockily.

  A smirk slinks onto my expression as I roll myself his direction after placing my gardening tools back in the bucket.

  The first time wasn’t expected. Hell, when he showed up I figured if I ignored him long enough he’d eventually disappear. Of course, I was wrong. When it comes to Hudson I usually am. I swear every time I think I have the bastard figured out he jerks me the other direction. His unpredictability is probably what Gwen and I both enjoy. We’re never exactly sure which day he’s going to suggest we all go out to the movies, or which one of us he’s going to fondle during it. Nights we assume he’s going to stay he almost always bails, and moments we think it’s just going to be us, he appears like an unwarranted pop up ad. He brings the same surprise shit to fooling around. Challenging me to let him come on my face….Challenging me to let him come on my lips in the shower….Challenging me to rub my own nuts until it felt like I was coming…. All of that shit was very unexpected. As was the way I swear my dick twitched when I was imagining getting off. Probably nothing more than a spasm, but that’s still the most action outside of pissing my cock has presented.

  Once I’m at the table, cleaning my hands off with a napkin, Hudson ponders, “You always like gardening?”

  “Yeah. Since I was a kid. I used to help my mom with it all the time.” I reach for a slice of the thin crust spicy sausage, pineapple, and smoked Gouda cheese pizza. “Before the accident almost every Sunday, I’d mess around in the garden while Gwen would lie over there reading whatever mystery novel she had bought for the week.”

  Memories of my dirt covered body crawling between her legs on the patio couch begin to flood my mind. Another smirk crosses my lips, and Hudson lightly chuckles like he knows exactly what I’m picturing.

  He shoves the last of the crust into his mouth. “Don’t you think we should get you an electric chair if we’re gonna keep doin’ this shit?” There’s no delay in him grabbing another piece. “Like won’t it be easier for you to get around?”

  My jaw threatens to tick. “No.”

  “No…what?”

  “No electric chair.”

  His eyes swarm with curiosity. “Because?”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “Because…?”

  Unable to stop myself, I snap, “What the fuck does it matter the reason why I don’t? Just know that I don’t.”

  “Mmm,” Hudson hums with a shake of his head. “Yeah, that’s not a good enough answer for me.”

  I take a large bite out of my pizza and continue to deny him his desire for details.

  “Come on, Blondie. I’m gonna need a little more than that. Whatever the reason is I’ll accept it.”

  My chewing begins to slow down.

  “If it’s because that’s how you keep all of this,” his free hand motions towards my chest and arms, “tight and ready for fucking then I definitely stand behind the decision.”

  A light chuckle leaves me as a sense of pride sweeps through my system.

  What man doesn’t love to hear how sexy he is from the person he’s sleeping with? Er…messing around with. Damn, I wish I could pull him into my lap and fuck him into a million little pieces. Hear him howl from my dick tearing him in two. Nowadays I find myself wishing I could fuck him almost as often as I wish I could fuck Gwen. Not being able to fuck either keeps me on the edge of frustration constantly. I know they’re both satisfied with what we can do together, but I hate being the person in this relationship who can’t deliver what everyone else can.

  “Is that it?�
� Hudson pushes between bites. “Is rolling around your work out?”

  “Not really. I mean, yeah, it keeps the arms working, but I have weights and shit I do sometimes to keep myself tone. Plus, some basic core exercises recommended by a personal trainer to keep my body from going to shit while I can’t get to the gym.”