by Anna Martin
Evan settled farther on his belly and pulled Scott’s asscheeks all the way apart, exposing his hole to long, filthy licks, prodding little pokes, and finally, a finger or two to tempt the tiny little hole into relaxing.
He added lube to the mix, letting the wetness be its own kind of foreplay as Scott continued to grunt and groan. He took one of Evan’s fingers with hardly any trouble at all. The second was harder work. Evan had to talk him into taking the third finger.
“Come on, baby, you know you can take it.”
“Won’t fit, Evan,” Scott whimpered. His voice was raw, lost, gone.
“It will. You want to be nice and relaxed for my cock, yeah? We gotta get you ready so I can fill your tight little ass.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Evan chuckled. “You ready? Want me to stop?”
“No.”
He slapped Scott’s ass, one hard crack to make him yelp. “Want a condom?”
They didn’t use them when Evan bottomed, but he kept a few in the nightstand drawer just in case.
“No. I want to feel you.”
Evan quickly used one hand to slick lube along his cock and poured more onto the fingers that were still gently caressing Scott from the inside. When he slowly, surely pulled his fingers free he immediately pressed his cock forward, stretching and filling Scott’s body.
“Shit,” Scott gasped. “Gentle. Please.”
“I’ve got you,” Evan murmured, fighting his body’s urge to push forward, to lay claim to his lover’s body. Instead he shifted his weight onto his hands, pressed his chest to Scott’s back, and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Scott’s neck. “I’ve got you. Tell me when you’re ready.”
Only the very tip of his cock was inside, and the rhythmic clenching of Scott’s hole was a torturously sweet massage on the most sensitive part of his body.
“Okay,” Scott said after a moment.
Evan sank forward, slow and even and steady, letting Scott’s body accept his in its own time. It took a while, not that Evan was in any kind of rush. He kissed over Scott’s neck, lips hovering over his heartbeat.
“Still okay?” Evan murmured.
“Fuck. Yes.”
“We can stop now if you want.” Evan nuzzled into the late afternoon scruff under Scott’s ear. “I’m here. I’m inside you. You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”
Scott turned his head, silky black hairs that Evan adored brushing over his throat. “Kiss me. Please, Evan.”
They found each other’s lips, though their position didn’t offer much in terms of deep kisses. Instead Evan brushed his mouth over Scott’s, back and forth, in time with the gentle rocking of his hips.
This was how he wanted to make love for the rest of his life.
Scott had started making tiny little noises in the back of his throat, whimpers and groans, urging Evan to give him more.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what, baby?” Evan teased.
“Don’t make me beg.” Scott’s voice was broken and raw.
“But you’re so beautiful like this.”
Evan thrust in a little harder, a little deeper. Scott yelped, then moaned into the pillow.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
“More, fuck. Evan. Please. Fuck me.”
“I love you,” Evan said, his lips skimming over Scott’s neck, making him squirm on Evan’s dick. “More than anything.”
Scott groped for Evan’s hand, then threaded their fingers together. Like this, their rings sat side by side. In a rush, it became real. This was his marriage.
“Oh God,” Evan groaned, pressing his face back against Scott’s neck.
They moved together, finding a rhythm and pace that danced along the line between sweet and teasing and rough and powerful. Scott got his knees underneath him, and suddenly he had space and strength to buck back into Evan’s thrusts. Both their hands came around to tease his cock and balls, and Evan rubbed his thumb over that spot that made his partner melt.
“Evan.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna come.”
A cold fizz shuddered down Evan’s spine, and he clenched his stomach muscles, willing himself not to come, not until Scott was falling apart underneath him.
“Come for me, baby,” Evan murmured.
Scott cried out, bucking and shaking, and it was all Evan could do to hold on, to kiss him through it and murmur soft noises. His thrusts grew shallow, and he knew his body would betray him soon enough. As soon as Scott shuddered through the peak of his orgasm Evan let go, letting instinct take over as he pressed his lips to Scott’s shoulder and allowed the waves of pleasure free passage through his body.
Shuddering, breathing hard, and covered in sweat and come, Evan pulled Scott to his chest and held him tight. It was overwhelming for sure, this bubbling emotion. For a long moment all Evan could do was wrap his arms around Scott and hold him tight, his face buried in Scott’s sweet-smelling hair.
Scott’s gentle hands smoothed through Evan’s hair, understanding, empathizing, feeling it too. Evan pressed his lips to Scott’s head.
“You,” he breathed, “are such a little cock slut.”
“I am not,” Scott gasped.
Evan broke into helpless laughter, his arms squeezing tighter as Scott tried to wriggle away. “No, that’s it now. I’m making you my bottom.”
“Give me five minutes to recover and I’ll fuck you into the floor to prove that’s not true.”
Scott bit at Evan’s jaw, a teasing little nip, then soothed the skin with his tongue.
“How are you feeling?” Evan asked. He’d finally controlled Scott’s wriggling and rubbed his thumb back and forth over Scott’s cheekbone.
“Good. Incredible. Can’t quite believe I’m married to you.”
“Twenty-five years,” Evan murmured. “It took us twenty-five years to get here.”
“I can barely remember my life without you in it.”
“Is this the part in the story where we get sappy?”
Scott laughed and pulled Evan into their normal post-sex snuggling position. “Sure.”
“And they all lived happily ever after?”
“Yeah. Forever and ever.”
“The end.”
Author’s Note
The Five Things, or 5+1 writing structure, owes its existence to fan fiction, much like my writing career.
Although writers can and do interpret the 5+1 idea very differently, most commonly stories will follow a concept along the lines of “five times someone did something and one time they did the opposite,” which is what I’ve used for this story.
Although the true origins of this concept are slightly muddy, most agree that it started back in the 1980s with a Star Wars story and exploded in the 1990s with stories written in the Smallville, Blakes 7, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer fandoms.
My own fan fiction journey started when I was fifteen in the world of Harry Potter, danced through Twilight, dabbled in Queer as Folk, and recently landed in the Marvel superhero universe. I’ve seen variations of the 5+1 theme in pretty much every fandom I’ve visited.
So this story is my homage to fan fiction—the source of my writing career, where my roots as a writer are deeply embedded. It’s my thank-you to everyone who has helped shape me as a writer and a quiet nod to those incredible, bone-shaking, heart-wrenching stories that will never be published because they borrow someone else’s characters.
Fan fiction writers, I salute you.
About the author:
Anna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the south west of England and now lives in Bristol. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English Literature at university before turning her hand as a professional writer.
Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theatre (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where s
he can be found every summer), visiting friends who live in other countries, Marvel Comics, learning new things, and Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk.
Although her most recent work is in the LGBT Fiction genre, in the past Anna has worked on a variety of different projects including short stories, drabbles, flash fiction, fan fiction, plays for both children and adults, and poetry. She has written novels in the Teen/ Young Adult genre, Romance, and Fantasy novels.
Anna is, by her own admission, almost unhealthily obsessed with books. The library she has amassed is both large and diverse; "My favourite books," she says, "are The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood." She also several well-read copies of Michael Crichton's Jurassic Park books and re-reads the Harry Potter novels with almost startling regularity.
Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, pre-reading and creative ass-kicking provided by her closest friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept any responsibility for anything Anna has written.
Anna’s website: www.annamartin-fiction.com
Twitter and Instagram: @missannamartin
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