Golden

by Sean Michael

  “Do you want wine?” Justin asked.

  “Did we get any?” Chris didn’t remember grabbing any while they’d made the grocery run. Besides, Justin wasn’t supposed to be drinking unless he said it was okay, and he thought it was too early to relax that rule. Justin needed to drink to enjoy it, not to dull worries or life or anything.

  “Uh….” Justin tilted his head. “We’d talked about getting some for the sauce, but…. Did you get any?”

  “Nope. No drinking, remember? Your recipe said red wine or red wine vinegar.” And Chris didn’t need to drink, let alone do it in front of Justin. His boy had the beginning of a real problem, and he was going to learn to control it. “Water? We’ve got sparkling and tap.”

  “I want tea, I think.”

  “Okay. I’ll have water. Tap.” He gave Justin a wink and started opening bags, putting the salad together. “There’s a lot of fucking plastic here. How hard could it be to figure this out without getting it premade?”

  “It’s lettuce, right? Lettuce lives with the bagged salad.”

  “Uh-huh.” Chris put the salad together, poured on the dressing, and tossed it. They’d make their own next time. He’d bet it would be cheaper anyway, to buy a jar of salad dressing and a head or two of lettuce instead of the premade stuff.

  Justin put the pasta in the water and started the timer. Chris put the salad on the table and then set it with two place settings and wandered for the next seven minutes as Justin worried over the pasta. He finally deemed it ready, and he put the sauce on the table and drained the pasta, set it out as well.

  “Looks nice.” Justin took the bread and put it in the oven.

  “It does. I’m proud of you—our first homemade meal.”

  “Yeah? Maybe you should wait till you taste it.” Still, Justin seemed pleased with himself.

  Chris shook his head. “If it tasted like shit, it would smell like shit.”

  “You think so?” Justin opened the oven and rolled his eyes, set the incredibly well-toasted bread on the table.

  “I think so.” He grinned and pulled Justin’s chair out for him.

  “Thank you.” Justin blushed, but the smile was worth it.

  Chris let his fingers linger on Justin’s shoulders after his babe was sitting. “It really does look good, Justin.”

  “I hope it’s good. It was sort of fun.”

  “I’m glad.” It would suck if Justin hated it. Of course, he’d had a pretty good hunch that wouldn’t be the case.

  Chris sat and they filled the plates. It wasn’t amazing, but it absolutely wasn’t bad at all. It sure beat pizza or Chinese or burgers for the five-hundredth time. “I can’t believe this is your first time cooking, J. It’s great.”

  Look at his boy beam. This had been a good idea, even if he did say so himself. Being able to cook was going to help Justin with his self-esteem, let him realize he was good at more than just swimming.

  They ate, chatted, and Justin actually relaxed. When it was time to clean the kitchen, they worked together. Chris snagged a couple of bottles of water, and they wandered into the living room together.

  “You want to watch TV?” Justin asked.

  “I want to reward you for a job well done.”

  “Okay….” He got a curious look. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I want to make love to you, J. Maybe put a kinky twist on it.”

  “Oh. You’re a horndog.” He gave Chris the grin he wanted, though.

  “I’m a horndog in love, babe. With you.” He tugged Justin in close, rubbed their hips and their noses together.

  Justin’s eyes cut away, his cheeks rosy.

  Chris kissed him, a short, hard kiss. “I’m going to keep saying it,” he promised. He kissed Justin again.

  “Hush,” Justin said.

  “No, not hush. I love you.”

  “You can’t.”

  Chris stopped short in the act of leaning in for another kiss. “I do.”

  “I do too.”

  “What?” Now he was confused.

  Justin drew away, gazed at him. “I love you too.”

  “Oh….” He hadn’t been expecting it, not at all. But it warmed him all the way through. He felt the smile spreading over his face.

  “You want a cup of coffee?” Justin asked.

  “No, I want a cup of Justin.”

  “I won’t fit in a cup.”

  “Then I’ll just have to have all of you.”

  Justin touched his wrist. “Is it going to be weird, being in love?”

  “Why would it be weird?”

  “I’ve never been with someone I was in love with.”

  “You’ve been with me for a few weeks now.”

  “I have, but I didn’t know I was in love with you for sure.”

  “Well, now things can only be better, because you do know.” He tugged Justin in, kissed his babe. Justin tasted like their dinner.

  Justin wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, tugged him in, tongue sliding against him. Humming, Chris deepened the kiss, his hands sliding over Justin’s hips and around to his ass. Justin took a half step forward, moaned into Chris’s lips. He tugged Justin in closer, rubbing them together. Hungry boy. Needy man.

  “Too many clothes,” he noted, wondering if Justin would take the initiative to do something about that.

  “Mm-hmm.” Justin tugged Chris’s shirt out of his slacks.

  Moaning at the touch of Justin’s fingers on his skin, he returned the favor, working slowly to remove Justin’s T-shirt from his jeans. His swimmer was so fine, ab muscles rolling as Justin sucked in. Chris paused to stroke them, to tease the smooth skin, the tiny treasure trail that disappeared into Justin’s jeans. It was so hot, the way those muscles jerked and jumped under his touch. He dragged the fingernails of his right hand down over them.

  “Hey….” Justin gasped, kissed him even as he wrapped one hand around Chris’s wrist.

  “Is for horses,” Chris managed, twisting his hand in Justin’s grip and winding their fingers together.

  Justin moaned, tongue sliding over his lips.

  “You like the slight sting of pain, Justin.” He used his free hand to scrape over Justin’s belly again. Justin liked aching.

  Chris pressed over the sweet, barely there welts his fingernails had left. Justin’s tanned skin goose pimpled up; his muscles jerked and jumped. Fuck, it made him hard how wonderfully Justin’s body responded to him. He wanted to push, wanted to make Justin twist. He slid his fingers up toward Justin’s swollen, beautifully abused nipples.

  “Don’t….”

  “I have to.” He teased both nipples.

  “Wh-why?” Justin arched, cock filling in his tight jeans.

  “Because I love the way you move when I touch them.” Because he loved how sensitive they were. Because he loved how Justin had to notice them. “Sexy boy.” He pinched one nipple.

  Justin grunted, jerked away from him.

  “Where are you going?” He tugged Justin back in, sliding the T-shirt up and off so he could lean in and suck on those pretty nipples.

  “Away from your fingers.”

  He laughed softly. “You love it.”

  “I love you.”

  “So you said. I like hearing it.”

  “Yeah?” Justin looked so… pleased.

  “Yeah. I like hearing it a whole lot. Makes me feel good.”

  “Makes me feel pretty good too.”

  “Excellent.” Chris leaned in to flick his tongue across the tip of Justin’s right nipple.

  Justin’s soft moan was pure sex. He took the little nipple between his lips and tugged. Justin’s hands wrapped around his head, held on. Humming, Chris tugged harder, licked and sucked.

  “Don’t. Aches. Dammit.”

  He let go of the nipple and rubbed it with his nose. Justin’s gasp made him grin. Kissing his way over, he moved to Justin’s left nipple.

  “You’re obsessed.”

  “Uh-huh. Some
one should be.”

  Justin shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

  “Yes. They deserve love and attention.” He began sucking on the left nipple, gently to start with. He loved the way it hardened beneath his tongue.

  “Can’t we sit down?”

  “Knees giving out?” He smiled against Justin’s skin.

  “Your neck’s going to hurt.”

  Oh, little shit.

  “I think I can survive it.”

  Justin chuckled, stepped away. “You’re a dork. Come on, let’s sit.”

  “I’m not a dork,” he complained, following Justin to the couch.

  “Yep. A dork.”

  “I don’t think that’s allowed, you know. Calling your coach and your Top a dork.”

  “You’re not my coach anymore.”

  “Not at the moment, but I am your Top.” It was similar. Besides, Justin would be competing again. He was sure of it now.

  “Maybe.” He got a teasing wink.

  He growled a little, bit Justin’s left nipple.

  “Ow!” Justin jerked away, keeping distance between them.

  He grasped Justin’s hips and tugged him closer. “Are you hard, babe?”

  “You make me harder than anyone else ever.”

  “That’s because I know what you want.” And he was learning, more and more, what Justin needed. “So let me grab your nipples, eh?” He demonstrated by tugging on the right one this time.

  Chris didn’t squeeze hard. He let the pressure be slow, steady, and Justin moaned, moving almost into his lap. He slid his free hand around one of Justin’s hips, encouraging Justin to move, to rock against him. That got Justin in his lap, up close, belly hot against him.

  “You make me need, babe. So hard.”

  “You’re amazing. No one ever wanted so much.”

  “Clearly you’ve been having sex with inferior guys,” Chris teased, though it was the truth if the guys Justin had been with hadn’t seen his sexy boy for what he was.

  “I haven’t been having a lot of sex.”

  “Before me.”

  Justin rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah.”

  Chris leaned in and bit Justin’s right nipple for rolling his eyes at him.

  “Ow!” Justin wrenched his hair. “You’re so mean.”

  “You love it.” He opened Justin’s pants, then wrapped his hand around Justin’s prick and tugged the lovely hard-on.

  “Do not.” Justin arched back for him, lips parted, hungry. God, look at his boy.

  “No, you’re right. You don’t love it at all.” He kept stroking, thumb sliding across the sweet tip on every upward stroke.

  “God, your hands. I used to imagine….”

  “Tell me.” He wanted to know Justin’s fantasies.

  Justin shook his head. “Just stuff. I just wanted you.”

  “There’s no just about that, Just.” He frowned. “Wait….” He chuckled. “I know what I meant.”

  Justin’s laugh rang out, warm and happy. God, Chris loved that sound. He blew on Justin’s right nipple.

  “Mmm.” Justin hummed, fingers sliding through his hair.

  He wrapped a hand around Justin’s prick, thumb pushing against the slit as he played with the round head. He kept the touch light—he wanted this to drag out, wanted Justin sensitive and aching. Then he slid his hand down to roll Justin’s balls.

  “Mmm.” Justin kissed his ear, wrapped his lips around the lobe to suck.

  Groaning, Chris slid his fingers in behind those sweet balls to stroke the hot skin.

  “Feels good.” Justin tugged Chris’s earlobe with careful teeth.

  He jerked and pressed closer, mouth capturing Justin’s left nipple and sucking strongly. Justin’s head fell back, hips rolling, cock hard as iron as it leaked against him. His babe might protest, but he loved the burn and ache in his nipples. Chris slid a hand back between Justin’s thighs, stroking the sensitive skin between them, and then the sweet, heavy sacs. A ring would be perfect there—private, hidden. His.

  “Gonna pierce you, Just. Give you a ring nobody can see, nobody but us will know is there.”

  “You are?”

  “I am.” He let his fingers wander back to that sweet patch behind Justin’s balls. “Right here.”

  “If you do it. Only you.”

  Chris thought about that. He had the Internet. He could buy a needle and the ring, and he had steady hands. He nodded.

  “Okay.” Justin rested their foreheads together. “I trust you.”

  Heat moved through him at the words. “Thank you, babe.”

  Justin kissed him again, this time almost chastely. He let Justin lead the gentle kiss for a while and then took over, devouring his babe’s mouth. His beautiful lover. His swimmer. His boy.

  “This is going to be a part of our routine, babe. You’ll make supper, we’ll clean it up, and then we’ll make love.”

  “What if we don’t want to make love?”

  He hoped his expression told Justin he thought the man was crazy.

  “What?” Justin was fighting laughter. Chris could tell. “It could happen!”

  “It’s possible, just not probable.”

  “Maybe I’ll turn straight.” Justin was just barely holding back the laughter, and Chris loved it, loved the joy he could see.

  He managed to bite back his own laughter. “How can you turn straight? Turning implies a bend, right?”

  “I would go with flip. I could… flip straight.” Justin lost it, hooting with laughter.

  “Flip straight.” Chris snorted and started laughing too.

  “Uh-huh.” Justin leaned into him, chest bouncing with his chuckles.

  “You couldn’t flip straight any more than I could beat you in a race in the water.”

  Justin snorted. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Exactly.”

  Justin kissed the end of his nose. “It’s good to laugh, huh?”

  “It is, babe. Very good.”

  Justin settled against him, leaning. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’m right here, babe.”

  “I know.” Justin shrugged. “I’m glad.”

  “Me too.” He kissed the top of Justin’s head, enjoying the moment.

  Chris found himself holding on, just letting Justin rest against him. It didn’t suck. It didn’t suck at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JUSTIN READ the recipe in the book. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t. He rubbed his forehead and peered at the words again, watching them swim on the white paper. Oh fuck, his head hurt.

  “Coach.” He headed out of the kitchen. “Coach, I need you.”

  “In here, Just.” Coach’s voice came from the living room.

  He stumbled in, swaying. “Coach.” Migraine. Bad one. The flashing lights started up, and he winced, trying to hide from them. Coach would help him. Coach knew what to do.

  “Shit, Justin. Migraine?” Coach came over and put a hand over his eyes, the warmth and darkness helping a tiny bit. “Okay. Let’s get you into the bathroom. You need a warm, dark bath.” Coach spoke gently, quietly.

  Justin groaned, leaned into the touch. “Help me.”

  “I’ve got you, babe.” Coach led him into the bathroom and didn’t turn on the lights, just sat him on the edge of the tub and got the hot water on, stripped him out of his clothes, then helped him in.

  Justin groaned again, tears sliding down his cheeks. God. God, he felt like shit.

  Coach quickly undressed and joined him in the tub, held him as the hot water pounded down on him. “Breathe, babe.”

  “Hurts.” He held on. Coach had been with him through these before.

  “Shh. No talking, just breathing.” Those strong hands began to work Justin’s shoulders, his neck, and the back of his head.

  He started to relax, but then the nausea hit him. He jumped up out of the tub and made it to the commode, barely, as he lost it. Coach kept a hand on him, eased him back into the water
when he was done. Better.

  Coach didn’t try to talk to him or make him do anything, just held him, soothed him in the warm wet dark. Justin dozed off, Coach’s arms around him even as they sank to the bottom of the tub.

  He woke up when Coach started moving him again. “Hot’s running out.”

  “Uh-huh.” He stood up, swaying a little, his head feeling too light.

  “Let’s get you to bed.” Coach got them both dried off quickly.

  “Stay with me?”

  “I will, babe.”

  “Thank you.”

  Soon they were curled together in bed, Justin hiding his face in Coach’s chest. It was quiet and dark and warm, and Coach’s hands moved so gently over him. He felt much better.

  “Sorry,” Justin mumbled.

  “Shh.” Coach continued to touch him with those soothing, sure hands.

  Justin dozed, floated, periodically coming up from crazy dreams before sinking again. Coach was there every time he came up, keeping it dark and warm and safe.

  “Love.” A straw was set between his lips, cold water so bright it was almost shocking.

  “Just a bit,” murmured Coach, the words careful and soft.

  “Thank you.” He thought about opening his eyes, then thought different.

  “Just relax, Justin. You don’t need to do anything but rest and get better.”

  “I’m sorry. I was going to cook, but….” The migraine had hit so fast.

  “You’re exempt if you’re sick, babe.”

  He hummed, nuzzling in. “I tried.”

  “I know. I saw.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  “Shh. Just rest. I know it flares back up if you get moving too soon.”

  “Yeah.” Migraines sucked. He wasn’t sure why he got them, and they didn’t happen often, but when they did, ick. And also ow.

  “I’ve got some wonton soup we can warm up when you’re feeling up to testing out your stomach.”

  “Okay. Okay, maybe. Maybe you’d cook me eggs?”

  “Yeah? I could probably manage some eggs.”

  “I like your eggs.” They were like… home.

  “This is just revenge for making you cook suppers.” Justin could tell Coach was pleased, though, the words teasing, the sound of Coach’s voice warm.

  “Yep. My brain exploded.” He grinned, reached out and twined their fingers together.