Risk Everything on It

by K.A. Mitchell

  He did his best to warm the lube on his fingers before touching it to the soft dent hidden in the hair. It opened, but he didn’t slide in all the way. He rubbed the rim, stretching, smoothing, slicking the place his cock was aching to feel. The throb of blood at the tip made his hips start to move, but he still took his time.

  Jax tried to drive back onto his finger. “I think that may be the opposite of too fast.”

  Oz stroked a hand down the tight muscles of Jax’s back. “I’m not teasing to get you to beg.”

  “Okay?” Jax sounded unconvinced.

  Oz had been with guys whose eyes were bigger than their asses. And even if Jax was sure of himself, a little extra time to get things right always paid off.

  Oz dipped his finger deeper, and Jax rocked back to take it to the knuckle. More lube and he was grinding on two, making groans that pulled Oz’s balls tight with need. There was doing the other guy right and there was getting caught in a parking lot with his pants down. Oz wiped his fingers on his shirt and suited up.

  It was always good, and always the hardest part. Even through the condom, that grasping, twitching heat made him want to dive in. Jax’s ass tried to suck him in fast, but Oz knew they’d have to start again if he pushed too hard. He rocked, savoring the agony of the wait while the hard ring moved, then opened, letting him sink in just enough.

  “Jesus. Okay. I. Get it. Now.” The words came out of Jax’s throat in torn-off gasps, like each one was a fight to get out.

  Oz took the hand that had been guiding his dick and rubbed it along the sweating skin of Jax’s back. “Push back when you’re ready.”

  That got a hoarse almost-laugh.

  A shift, a softening, and then Jax spread his knees, sinking down, more heat and need tugging on Oz’s cock, all that welcoming pressure making him shudder.

  The rest of Jax’s body trembled, slick, sweating. Oz reached around, not for his cock, but to play with his nipple, a hard pinch.

  “Yes.” Or at least it sounded like a yes. Mostly it was a hiss from between closed teeth.

  Oz needed to know for sure. “Ready?”

  “No. But God, I want it anyway.” Jax pushed back, sucking more of Oz inside. “Go.”

  Another hard pinch, his other arm firm around Jax’s waist, and Oz gave him everything he could manage. One stroke out, and then he sank all the way, the final bit of resistance switching to be a pull as deep-rooted as gravity. He pulled out again and drove back in, with a thrust that locked them together with the power of an industrial magnet, a solid click that echoed through his body.

  Jax grunted. “Good, fucking perfect. So good.”

  It was. Oz only wished he’d been able to see Jax’s face when he’d slammed home. See what his eyes looked like with his ass full of Oz’s dick. Bend him in half to kiss that wide mouth.

  Jax moved first, rocking himself up and then back. Oz braced a foot against the wheel well for leverage, and then they were fucking. The sweet force of it. Friction and power. Muscles and sweat. Jax found a grip on the seat back and shifted the angle, and damn, Oz swore he went in farther, or maybe it was the way Jax tightened on him, shuddering.

  Hearing the shift in the tone of those grunts, Oz rubbed his chin across Jax’s back. “Your hand or mine?”

  “Both. Then just you.”

  Oz nodded and reached for Jax’s dick, closing around the slick, velvety skin, right under the head as he waited for Jax to show him what he liked. When Jax’s hand covered his, big but uncalloused, he led him in short, tight strokes, thumb gliding over the crown.

  “I got you. Going to give it to you good.” Oz gave a hard, openmouthed kiss full of teeth to Jax’s shoulder blade, and Jax’s hand fell away.

  With a hand on his chest to spread him wider over Oz’s lap, Oz mimicked those strokes with his hips, hammering away.

  “Right there. Jesus. Any more good and I’ll pass the fuck out.” The pitch of Jax’s breathing, even his moans, shifted, became higher. Back to a whine. “Oh fuck.”

  Oz got in a pinch on the nipple under his fingers as he felt Jax go. Beautiful, hard body shaking, hips stuttering, slick, hot come spilling onto Oz’s hand as the muscle pulses locked around Oz’s dick and made him gasp.

  “Damn,” he murmured into the flat plate of Jax’s shoulder. “You got a sweet, tight ass on you.”

  “Thanks. You’ve got one hell of a nice cock.”

  Jax’s light tone forced a laugh from Oz that made Jax suck in a quick breath. Oz began to ease out, and Jax stopped him, reaching back to his hip.

  “It’s okay. You can finish.” A long breath. “In me, I mean. I like it.”

  “Let me get a little more lube, then.”

  Jax squeezed his ass, pressure enough to make them both gasp, and then rolled his hips.

  “Or not,” Oz managed as the need in his balls took over every other function of his body. It was slick enough, hot enough. Oh sweet Lord, tight enough. Jax dropped facedown on the tarp, and Oz gave in to the demand burning through ass and thighs and dick. He fucked. Rough, fast jerks, then longer, deeper but still fast, so fast. So damned good inside him. So wet and pulsing, and his brain flashed a warning too damned late because he couldn’t stop now. Somehow he managed to pull out after the second sweet shot blasted out of him, catching the rest in his hand as it oozed through the split in the condom.

  Had it been too small, too old, or were they too rough?

  “What—?” Jax turned, crouching in the cramped space. “Oh.”

  Oz didn’t need more than two fingers to count the number of partners he’d had since Joaquín had moved out. He’d tested negative a month after Joaquín left. Statistics and probability were on their side, in the 90 percent range, but if it had been a sure thing, they wouldn’t have needed the condom. “Sorry.”

  “No. Not your fault. I guess there’s a reason they say not to carry them in your wallet.”

  Despite Jax’s words, guilt eroded Oz’s postcome high. He needed to clean them up, erase the mistake as much as possible. Stretching around Jax, Oz found the lid of the console, flipped it up, and dug out the pack of baby wipes he kept there.

  Oz stripped off the useless condom and wiped himself off, not looking at the other man. “My last test was negative.” Fifteen months ago. “And they have that pill now.” He would never take a risk. Not with Ayla and Regan in the picture. But this man didn’t—wouldn’t—know that.

  Rented Lexus, couldn’t be hurting for money. If their positions were reversed, Oz would be at his doctor’s before they opened. And angry.

  “I pulled out as soon as I felt—”

  “It’s fine.” The man’s tone was flat, but not with suppressed anger. Something like disinterest, boredom. “Like you said, there’s an after pill for this kind of thing.” He dragged on his jeans, stretched that muscle-ridged, too-late-to-lick-at torso, and felt around for his shirt.

  Oz slipped his belt through the buckle and stuffed the wadded-up mess in his hand into the pocket of his khakis. “I—It was a really good time.”

  “Definitely.” The deep, polished voice was back.

  Despite the abrupt end, it really had been. Hot enough Oz would have found a way to keep things lasting till dawn if he didn’t have the kids waiting at home with his sister. But if the condom hadn’t ripped, Oz wondered if he’d still be taking a business card out of his wallet.

  The man—Jax—tugged his shirt over his head, his muscle-carved chest vanishing beneath.

  No, in any other situation, Oz wouldn’t have done it. Cupped Jax’s neck to pull him into one last and unexpectedly lingering kiss, yes. But it was straight-up guilt that had him pressing the card into Jax’s hand.

  “If…. My cell number’s on it.” Guilt, Oz was all too familiar with. Lust too. But something else made Oz lean into the other man again and drop a kiss on the mouth that seemed frozen in a smile. “Good night.”

  Chapter 2

  IN THE foyer of his friend Hal’s house, Oz had just taken off t
he girls’ coats when Hal’s daughter Lacey sidled up holding a battery-operated puppy that started wagging and yipping. The three kids sprinted down the hall, but Oz called his girls back.

  “Why are we here?” he coached.

  Regan stuffed two fingers in her mouth, but Ayla parroted, “We got to come play at Lacey’s house because her dad is having a baby shower for Mr. Eddie and Mr. Terry.”

  “So what do you need to do before you go play with Lacey?”

  Ayla slumped but didn’t roll her eyes. She grabbed her sister’s hand, and they trooped out to the kitchen where Hal was taking barbecued wings out of the oven while Eddie and Terry perched on stools around the kitchen island.

  Ayla straightened her shoulders and recited, “Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Hal.”

  Oz pulled Regan’s fingers out of her mouth.

  “Thank you for inviting us,” she whispered, and he let her have them back.

  “Oh my God, she’s so adorable.” Terry slid off his stool. “I want to kidnap her.”

  “We’ll have our own soon enough, babe.” Eddie put a hand on his husband’s back.

  Lacey tapped her foot in the doorway, the spotted toy yipping away.

  Ayla tugged at Oz’s pant leg. “I forgot the word.”

  Oz leaned down to whisper it to her.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Eddie and Mr. Terry. Now can we go?” She looked back up at Oz.

  He squatted, his thigh muscles aching with a reminder from Thursday night. “Remember not to let your sister eat anything. Bring it to me first.”

  She nodded, and they took off, feet pounding up the stairs.

  “Okay,” Terry said, snuggling up to Eddie. “What parenting book did you read, and did you buy one for us?”

  Respect for adults was straight out of the Gospel of Child Rearing by Tabitha Parsons, but unfortunately for Terry and Eddie, Oz’s mother had not decided to delve into nonfiction after retiring from her job as a school principal. She was always available for advice, though, whether you asked for it or not.

  Oz accepted a glass of ice tea from Hal. “You just have to be consistent.” Endlessly. In the face of tears, screams, smiles, whines, and the sweetest little faces on the planet. Keeping things steady was doubly important with an ex who liked to take a wrecking ball to consistency and expectations when he decided he’d show up for one of his weekends.

  “You’re like a kid whisperer.” Terry pulled free of Eddie, eyes wide, breathing suddenly rapid. “Oh fuck no. We can’t do it. No. Who’s going to—? I mean me, a dad?”

  “Little late for that,” Hal said. “She’s due in six weeks, right?”

  Great. A party that turned into a showcase for Terry to queen out was exactly how Oz did not want to spend his Saturday afternoon. Oz caught Hal’s eyes with a glare Hal laughed off.

  Oz tried to head it off. “Every dad thinks that, all the time. But you step up and do it. You’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, I can really see you freaking out.” Terry snapped a celery stick in half. “You barely missed a beat after Joaquín left. They still look like poster kids for gay parenting.”

  Terry hadn’t seen breakfast this morning. Ayla had decided that since Regan had stuffed a despised raisin into Ayla’s oatmeal, the entire bowl belonged on her sister’s head. Oz had barely gotten her hair washed before it was time to leave.

  “Any time you want to see things in action, feel free to drop by before nine. Ayla and Regan are not morning people.”

  Hal added some hot dogs wrapped in crescent rolls and mini quiches to the food on the kitchen island and then set a pan of corn bread on the stovetop. Oz’s mouth watered.

  “Boy, you touch that corn bread before I cut it and I will end you,” Hal said as if he knew Oz had been thinking of diving in face-first. “I’ve got to make Darquon drag his black ass out of bed before the guests get here.”

  “So what are we?” Terry asked.

  “Besides needy as fuck?” Hal came back in from the doorway and wrapped his arms around Terry from behind. “Family. God help me.” He kissed Terry’s cheek and then let him go. “Now chill out. You’re ruining Oz-man’s posthookup high.”

  Oz should have known better than to tell Hal. Invoking his despised given name as payback, Oz snapped, “Kiss my ass, Har-old.”

  “Sorry, babe, you want your salad tossed, you’ll have to hope he calls.” After nailing the exit line, the fucker, Hal left Oz alone with Eddie and Terry to pick him over for details.

  Eddie’s and Terry’s heads moved like they were on the same pulley track, eyes staring at Oz.

  “Who was it?” Eddie asked.

  “Did you call Kevin?” Terry said. “We knew you would like Kevin. He’s perfect for you. Loves kids.”

  Wide mouth, stomach-flipping smile, and a damned fine ass squeezing his cock hard enough to tear the condom.

  “Told you he was cute,” Terry went on, leaving Oz to wonder what dick-whipped expression had just been on his face.

  “I didn’t call Kevin.” He doubted Terry and Eddie’s endless suggestions for perfect for you men had anything to do with Oz actually dating and more with a desire for equal numbers. He gave them the same answer he’d been feeding them since they decided it was time for Oz to move on. “I don’t have time for dating right now.”

  “You know we’d be happy to watch the girls anytime,” Eddie said.

  “And I appreciate it, but you won’t have time when the baby comes.”

  “Oh God. It’s really happening. We’re not ready for this.” Terry made a sound like he was going to start hyperventilating. Oz was only too glad to hand over the spotlight.

  With the guests came a few more kids: Eddie’s brother’s four-year-old boy, and with a woman from Terry’s work, ten-year-old twin girls who decided to play mommy to Regan and the boy. Oz passed on the instructions for Regan’s sensitive stomach and tried to limit his sweeps through the house to every fifteen minutes. Especially after the cake had been cut.

  As one of the twins decided to help hand over presents, Oz leaned on the wall nearest the stairs to listen for any problems.

  “You know Lacey would drop a dime on her own teddy bear,” Hal reminded him as he handed him a cake slice.

  Oz gave him half a smile. That much was true, but the other kids he didn’t know. More variables equaled more potential disasters. Keeping an eye—or ear—on things was only reasonable.

  About halfway through the presents, Ayla screeched by him, with Regan, the boy, and one of the twins in hot pursuit. The back door banged open. Cake had been ingested. Sugar. A new variable.

  “I’ll check on them.” Hal pushed away.

  The chime of the doorbell put a pause in the oohing over a knitted cap and sweater, which quickly resumed when Hal’s boyfriend, Darquon, went into the hall. Darquon’s voice was muffled, indistinct, but the other one Oz could have picked out of a thousand people with much more than some drywall between them.

  Joaquín.

  Oz followed Hal to the backyard, buying himself a few seconds of time. Before facing the sympathetic looks from Eddie and Terry. The murmurs as the awkward explanations were passed around. The sheepish, insincere apologies that made Oz feel like he was unreasonable for asking Joaquín to stick to a damned visitation schedule.

  Hal and the kids looked up as Oz pushed open the door. “Ayla—” His voice was thick, and he cleared his throat. “—Regan, your papi’s here.”

  “I THINK you have that on backward.” Dane pointed at the diaper Jax had just managed to tape around the plastic waist of My Special Baby Doll. “The dress too.”

  “Shit.” Jax unbuttoned the collar as the eerie dead eyes stared up at him from the reclaimed wood of Spencer and Dane’s dining room table. Dane was right about the dress. But the diaper? How was anyone supposed to tell?

  “Be glad that part of it’s not real.” Dane waved a hand in front of his face, then took a deeper inhale. “Hey. You got laid. I can smell it on you.”

  “Truth
in advertising at last. The perfumer will be thrilled to hear he created, in fact, sex in a bottle.”

  “Not the cologne. But you. That took the edge off, huh?”

  Dane’s sense of smell was freaking eerie, but no way could he still smell the traces of that fuck on Jax after two showers. Though Jax had gone to bed that night and woken up wrapped in that smell. Not just sex, but sex with the man whose business card Jax was carrying around. A rich decadence that didn’t mean an extra four hours in the gym if he indulged in it. And man, he’d indulged in it, including an excellent round with his hand as he relived the memory that came with that scent. It wasn’t until he had to get up and sign for the FedEx box that he remembered he had other things to do than smell like sex all day.

  Not that he’d had any kind of success with the damned doll. He’d tried to wrangle it into a natural-feeling prop, but no matter how he held it or interacted with it, the performance was wooden. He’d even given it a name. Hannah.

  “Real babies’ arms cannot possibly be this stiff and hard to put sleeves on.”

  “I’m guessing they can actually hold their arms fairly stiffly,” Dane said.

  “What are you doing to it now?” Spencer appeared behind them and gently lifted the doll off the dining room table.

  Jax stared at him. Overlong pale blond hair, tanned skin, hipster chic scarf over his T-shirt, Dane’s long-time boyfriend didn’t look anything like the suburban dad Jax would be auditioning for, but somehow the baby appeared natural tucked in Spencer’s solid, muscled arm.

  “How—?”

  “Spencer’s the baby in the family,” Dane said. “He’s got a ton of nieces and nephews.”

  “Hold it, don’t grab it.” Balancing the doll against his chest, Spencer untucked the arm and slipped it back into the dress, facing the right way this time. “Here.” He tried to pass it back. “And the diaper is on backward.”

  Dane shot Jax a told you so look, but Jax ignored it in favor of taking out his phone to record how Spencer interacted with the baby.