by R. Cayden
“The fact that I was burying my tongue deep inside you?” he asked, grinning.
I felt my cheeks warm and turned back to the garden. “Or whatever.”
“It’s probably why he’s letting us stick around in the first place,” Gunner said. “He’s probably thanking his lucky stars that we were waiting on his couch when he got back home. A guy Maddox’s age, all worn out and serious, he’s got to see us and think something special fell in his lap.”
I pushed my glasses back, using the back of my hand to wipe some sweat from my forehead. “You think he’s attracted to us or something?”
“Fuck yeah I do,” he said. “Who wouldn’t be? Between my muscles and your cute ass, he’s probably inside right now, jerking himself off in the bathroom and thinking about how hot I looked rimming you.”
I grabbed some of the weeds, tossing them at him and laughing despite myself. “He is not!” I said. “Just because he’s gay and older doesn’t mean he’s into us. He probably prefers guys his own age anyway.”
“Most guys his age aren’t as hot as Maddox is,” Gunner pointed out. “Trust me. I’ve had my fair share of fun with older men. I know what I’m talking about. Maddox takes care of himself. Even with those wrinkles around his eyes and with how faded his tattoos are, you know he’s got the kind of energy to go all night.” He licked his teeth, still grinning at me. “Did you see how thick his cock looked in those jeans?”
“Gunner!” I said, still feeling the heat rise to my cheeks… and a few other parts of my body, too.
Gunner wasn’t wrong. I had noticed how sexy Maddox was from the first minute he walked in. I could even buy into the idea that Maddox thought we were sexy. It would explain the way he always had that half-smile on his face when he was bossing us around and his willingness to show us around the property and play host.
But I was just settling into the fantasy I had developed with Gunner. The house in the mountains felt like our little secret, a place I could push myself to take new risks. I felt free here in a way I had never felt free before. If Gunner was going to switch his attention to Maddox, what would that mean for the special connection that was growing between us?
He might think a dweeby librarian like me was fun for a quick thrill, but I could never hold my own against a man like Maddox.
“Oh, it’s like that,” Gunner said, spinning his lighter in his hand. “You just watch. By the time this evening rolls around, Maddox is going to be pulling every card he has to try to seduce us.”
“Now I know you’re talking nonsense,” I said and turned away, returning to the weeds. My hands were a little shaky, but I didn’t want him to see how much that bothered me.
Gunner leapt forward, grabbing me by the side and pulling me to the grass with a quick, easy laugh. I laughed along despite myself, the warm crash of his body sending tingles along my skin. As he wrestled me onto my back, I squirmed beneath him and felt the cool grass against my skin.
Gunner pulled himself on top of me, sitting with his knees on either side of my hips. Our crotches were only a couple of inches apart, and my cock started hardening instantly. Still grinning, Gunner leaned forward, took my face in his hands, and planted a long, deep kiss on my lips.
My eyelids fluttered as our tongues met, softly at first. When I started whimpering and clawing at his back, he bit down on my bottom lip, tugging back for a second before releasing it with a pop.
“Who could resist something like this?” he teased, gesturing down to us. “We must be the hottest thing on the West Coast.”
“Maybe you are,” I mumbled. “I can’t imagine librarians are really Maddox’s thing.”
“Why not?” Gunner asked, leaning back and riding his cock up against mine a little harder. From the glint in his eyes, I knew it wasn’t an accident. “I think you’re hot, and I’m just as much of a badass as Maddox is.”
I pulled myself up on my elbows, resting my hands on his thighs. It felt good to be beneath him, like his weight was stopping me from freaking out and running away. “But I’m not hot,” I objected. “I’m handsome, and I have nice features, but I’m not hot. Motorcycles are hot. Tough guys with tattoos are hot. Nerds in sweaters? Not hot.”
He tugged at my sweater. “I don’t know about that. Something about this look makes me want to strip you down right here and get back to business.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically, adjusting my glasses. “The best thing about my fashion is that you want to take it off of me.”
“Damn straight I do,” he answered, staring me straight in the eye. Thrusting his hand down to my side, he grabbed my ass, squeezing just hard enough to make me suck in a sharp breath of air. “And the second I get back here, you know I’m going to take my time. I know how tight that hole is, and I’ll never forget the sounds you make when I start warming you up.”
My lip trembled as he looked down at me, grinning and giving me this look like he was going to devour me whole right there. I’d never had someone talk about me that way, but his filthy mouth was helping me see myself as actually desirable for the first time.
I didn’t know why I never got that feeling from polite guys. It’s not like I wanted to sleep around or go exploring my kinkier fantasies with every gruff man I could find. From a young age, I’d always imagined myself in a committed, serious relationship, and I’d fantasized about a guy asking me to spend the rest of my life with him and settling down together to make a home.
So why did all of those fantasies fly out the window the second Gunner started flirting with me? Why did him talking about my “tight hole” make me feel giddy in a way I had never before imagined?
I glanced up to the house and heard the sound of rock music piping through the stereo. A few birds called from the forest, and when the wind blew through the trees, little droplets of water trickled down from the leaves. “He can probably see us,” I said, gesturing toward the house.
Gunner shrugged. “So what? He didn’t say we’re not allowed to touch each other.”
I rubbed my hand up his thigh, feeling his firm muscles. For a second, we stayed just like that, my hands exploring his body and Gunner grinning down, allowing me all the time I needed. I watched as his cock grew harder and bigger in his jeans, and when my hand reached his side, I allowed myself to feel his ass, taut and full.
I looked to the house again, the sun glinting off the windows, and then back at Gunner. He began to rock his hips and ride me a little harder, dangling his fingers along my side.
“Just kiss me,” I said suddenly, desire filling me up from the core. “Just… just kiss me, okay?”
Gunner leaned forward, still rocking his hips. He pressed his lips against my ear and whispered softly, his warm breath tickling me, “You want me to kiss you, Malcolm?”
“Yes,” I gasped, curling my leg around his and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me.”
“My prince,” he whispered. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
Another bird called across the yard as he slowly trailed his lips along my cheek, landing at last on my lips.
And then, as though the rest of the world had disappeared, I kissed him back.
Chapter Seventeen
Maddox
The guys spent the afternoon laying around and making out in the backyard, which gave me plenty of time to get settled back in. Every now and then I’d head over to the window and enjoy a moment of watching them together. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually just relaxed with a guy, my no-strings-attached hookup always ending the second we shot our loads. Maybe that kind of carefree fun was in my past, but it did warm me to see them together.
The house just felt nice, with guys like Malcolm and Gunner enjoying it.
By the time they came back in, I had a pot of pasta bubbling away on the stove. I’d rummaged some canned tomatoes, pasta sauce, and mushrooms from the cupboard, throwing them together with a handful of dried garlic to finish off the meal. It wasn’t much, but after seeing how tough and ove
rgrown all the garden vegetables were, it would have to do.
Anyway, I’d found an emergency bottle of red wine in the back of the cupboard. Pouring myself a glass and pushing the vegetables around in the pan, I was finally settling back in at home.
“Hi,” Malcolm said, stepping through the door hesitantly. “Can we come in?”
“Sure,” I answered, waving them forward. “I’m just getting some food together. How’s the property treating you?”
“Nice place,” Gunner said, kicking his boots off. “I might build myself one like it one day.”
I hid my smile, thinking about how much work it would take to actually build that place. For all I knew, though, he had the skills to pull it off.
“Do you have any vinegar?” Malcolm asked, joining me in the kitchen.
“Under the sink.”
He rummaged around until he pulled the bottle out, then set it on the table and removed his sweater. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, he mixed some vinegar and water together in a bowl and set his sweater in the liquid to soak.
I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Grass stains on the sweater,” he said. “It’s much easier to get out if you treat it right away.”
“I’m sure,” I agreed.
Seeing them stand there in their T-shirts, I realized they’d been wearing the same clothes for at least a couple of days. I pushed the vegetables around once more, then pulled the pasta off the stove, draining it into a colander I had waiting in the sink. “You want to borrow some clothes?” I asked, turning to face them both again. “We could throw yours in the washer.”
“We don’t want to put you out anymore,” Malcolm said quickly. “Gunner has some old work clothes in his truck. He was just about to go grab them.”
“They clean?” I asked.
Malcolm looked at his friend, and Gunner shook his head quickly. “Just some dirty coveralls, but they’ll work.”
“Nonsense,” I said, heading over to the downstairs closet. “I have plenty of clothes to lend you both. Let me just grab something quick.”
I poked around in the closet, checking out some old boxes and trying to think of what would fit the two of them. Gunner’s build was a little closer to mine, but I knew most of my clothing would fall off of each of them. As I fished out an old concert shirt and a flannel, a part of me wondered why I was being so pushy. Did they even want an old guy trying to take care of them? Between Malcolm’s serious maturity and Gunner’s cocky confidence, it wasn’t like they were struggling to take care of themselves.
“These should make do,” I said, tossing them the clothes. Gunner looked like he was about to reject the offer, but Malcolm grabbed his arm first.
“Thanks,” he said. “Do I have time to jump in the shower before we eat?”
I glanced at the vegetables, which were just about cooked enough to add to the sauce. “It should be ready in five or ten minutes,” I said. “Go right ahead.”
“Thanks,” he said, grabbing the clothes and hurrying away. Gunner started to follow, but Malcolm paused, placing his hand on his friend’s chest to stop him. “We only have five minutes,” he said quietly.
“So what?” Gunner asked.
“If you join me, we won’t be done in time for dinner,” he whispered, almost like it was a secret.
I chuckled despite myself. Gunner shrugged, pretending to blow it off, although I could tell he didn’t love the rejection. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”
I turned back to the food, tending to a couple of things before flipping the heat down to low and covering the pan. When I turned back around, Gunner was undressing himself in the middle of the living room, tugging off his clothes and throwing them to the couch.
“You didn’t give me enough of a show last night?”
He grinned back at me. “It’s all old news now, isn’t it?”
I did my best not to stare as he finished undressing, but there was no doubt he was putting on a show for me. He took his time pulling his shirt off, then trailed his hands down his chest, drawing attention to the faint hairs across his pecs and the rippled contours of his abdomen. He did the same with his boxers, tugging them down slowly and letting his cock bounce free, thick and heavy against his leg.
I forced my eyes up to his face before I could get distracted by the firm globes of his backside. When he struck a pose instead of dressing himself, however, I realized just how intentional the show was.
The nerve of guys his age…
So it turned out Gunner was an exhibitionist. I couldn’t say I was surprised. It matched his attitude, and if I had a body like that when I was his age, I’d probably enjoy showing it off, too.
I had stopped messing with the guys once I realized they were going to be sticking around, but I hadn’t forgotten how wickedly fun it was to toy with them both the night before. It was like Gunner couldn’t resist the temptation to flirt and strut his stuff, even though I was sure Malcolm was begging him to stop when I wasn’t around.
If he was going to keep putting it out there, it would only be so long before I ended up taking the bait.
I’d at least had the sense to have a little fun when I was picking out the clothes to lend him. Gunner unfolded the shirt, revealing a giant pair of red lips with the tongue hanging out—my old Rolling Stones tee. Sighing, he pulled it on. At least one size too big, the bottom of it hung down below his ass. He stepped into the pair of gray briefs and jeans next, the loose fit of the denim making him look like some retro flashback.
I gave him a look up and down. “Cute,” I said.
“Whatever,” Gunner grumbled, bunching up his clothes and setting them aside.
The vegetables were just about done, and the canned tomatoes had melted into the sauce. Taking a taste of it, I added a sprinkle more of red pepper flakes, then set to work mixing it all up with the pasta at the counter.
“Do you make so much money from welding that you can afford to live here?” he asked, pulling up at a stool. “Maybe I should be a welder.”
“I told you,” I said, leaning forward and dropping my voice. “I’m a bank robber.”
Gunner scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
I shrugged. “I make decent money from welding, to answer your question. But that’s not how I paid for this house. It came from my family.”
“Ah, so you’re a rich kid,” he joked. “Do your mom and dad still pay the bills?”
I took in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly. When I didn’t say anything for a moment, Gunner whistled softly. “Okay, so Mom and Dad don’t pay the bills,” he said to himself. “Duly noted.”
“Welding is a good profession, though. I’d be happy if I spent the rest of my life making things out of metal. It’s practical and satisfying, and there’s a real pleasure in working the flames.”
Gunner nodded. “I was thinking of being a bartender. I thought maybe I’d find some big gay bar where I could make stacks of money by working with my shirt off or maybe some dive where I could run the joint myself.”
“My old friend Lilith is a bartender,” I said. “She likes it. It keeps her busy and suits her speed.” I tossed the pasta a bit, then transferred it to a bowl with the sauce. “I imagine you’re fine working nights, too.”
“Yeah, sounds fine to me. I just have to find the right place.”
“I’m sure the right one will come along. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, definitely give welding a try. I could see you really taking to it.”
Malcolm came walking back from the bathroom, his hair still damp and his glasses a little foggy. My flannel shirt hung like a nightgown on him, but he had rolled up the sleeves, and the belt I threw in worked to hold up his Dickies work pants just fine.
“I’ll throw your clothes in the washer downstairs,” I offered, rather than sending them wandering into my basement. I held out two empty bowls for them. “Let’s eat first.”
“Oh wow,” Malcolm said, tasting the sauce while he filled his bowl. “T
his is really good.”
“Yeah,” Gunner agreed, taking his first bite. “I thought you were going to give us beans.”
“Let’s see how long we have to eat out of the pantry for,” I said. “You might not feel the same way about my cooking if we’re here all weekend.”
Malcolm pulled his stool a little closer to Gunner. Across the floating counter from me, they were both smiling as they ate.
“What would you think if I became a welder?” Gunner asked Malcolm. “That sounds pretty nice, right?”
“Like Maddox?” Malcolm asked.
Gunner shook his head quickly, frowning. “No,” he said. “Not like Maddox, like me. Like, I’m the welder.”
“That sounds great,” Malcolm said. “You could probably be a bartender and a welder, if you really wanted to.”
“What about you, Malcolm?” I asked. “What do you do for work?”
“I’m a children’s librarian,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons I need to make sure I’m back for work Monday morning. There are some kids counting on seeing me, bright and early.”
I was surprised to hear his answer. Not because I doubted he was great at the job, but just because I was struck by how different his life must be from Gunner’s. Still, I didn’t care so much what someone did for money, just so long as it was honest work, and he wasn’t taking advantage of anyone else. I’d had my fill of predators and scam artists for one life.
“I’m sure you’re great at your job,” I said, taking a drink from my wine.
Gunner twirled some of the pasta into his mouth with the fork, chewing as he looked up at me. “Are you really going to make us sleep on the porch again?” he asked, changing the subject.
“You didn’t seem to mind it so much last night,” I answered, remembering how they looked curled up together in the morning.
“Yeah,” Gunner answered, “but now we’re having dinner together. Wouldn’t you rather have us somewhere else? Couch, maybe? Or your bed?”
