by Jane Davitt
“Only if you get on with it.” Abe moved his hands away from the bone they were fighting over. “I need to fucking come, okay?”
“Waiting can be fun.”
Abe lifted one hand to Gary’s cheek, cradling it. “I’ve been waiting for months to be with someone, anyone.” He brushed his thumb over Gary’s mouth. “That long enough for you, Gary? I’m so fucking hungry, and you’re making me stare at food and keep my hands to myself, mind my manners, and I’ve been doing it because I know if I get one taste—” His mouth replaced his thumb, a barely-there contact against Gary’s lips that wasn’t a kiss, not yet. “I won’t be able to hold back.”
The tip of Abe’s tongue flicked against Gary’s lower lip, once, twice, and Gary brought his hands up, locking them against Abe’s head to hold him in place. They were so close, their mingled breath warm on Gary’s face, but they still weren’t kissing.
“You think I’m asking too much?”
“Yeah.”
“You should be glad I’m only here for a day or two,” Gary said. “I’d keep you hungry for me all the fucking time if I could. I’ve changed.”
“No. You were always fucking mean, you asshole.”
Gary smiled and bit down on Abe’s lip. “I may not be a nice person, but I know when someone gets off on waiting. Three months? It isn’t easy doing that to yourself.”
He kissed Abe, taking slow tastes, not surprised when Abe didn’t kiss him back but allowed his mouth to be taken. The game wasn’t over. They’d called time-out for a while, but Abe was playing again now, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
“I wasn’t— I was busy,” Abe whispered.
“Busy working yourself up.” Gary paused, Abe’s mouth soft and open under his, ready for more kisses. “But three months is too long. There’s waiting, and there’s wasting time. Months? I can get you this hot in a day. An hour.”
Abe moved, resting his forehead against Gary’s shoulder. “Fine. Do it. Spend all day doing it—but let me come now.” His voice was muffled, but the way he nuzzled against Gary’s shoulder, tasting it, kissing it, got his message over. “You want me to beg more?”
“Not when you’re not looking at me.” Gary grabbed a handful of Abe’s hair, using the leverage to get them eye to eye again. “Okay, that’s better. Beg.”
Abe shook his head. “I don’t trust you, Fox. I’ll say it. Whatever you make me say, I’ll say it, and you’ll come up with another hoop for me to jump through.”
There was enough bitterness in his voice to make Gary frown.
“We don’t have time for you to not trust me,” he said bluntly. How long would it be before they could rescue their vehicles and get him en route again? Two days, three? And they couldn’t spend all that time fucking, attractive though the idea was. No one would be coming to dig them out. The plows didn’t venture this far out of town. If they wanted to leave, they’d have to save themselves, and that would involve physical work.
Leaving . . . God, he’d anticipated it would be hard to drive through town without stopping, but the emotional pain had been irresistible, a scab he needed to pick at. He’d planned for mild melancholy. Now, after meeting up with Abe, the fallout from this visit might be traumatic.
Abe sighed. “If we keep talking, the problem will take care of itself. I should let you clean up and go back to bed on my own. You’re not shivering now.”
The cum on his stomach and chest was cool and drying to an itch. “Why don’t you put some more on me and make the cleanup worth my while?”
“What?”
“Jerk off on me like you said you would.” Gary didn’t want Abe to walk away from this frustrated. “You don’t trust me to drive, so take the wheel.”
“You know I wasn’t serious.”
“It’s not that out there. Not on my face, though. I don’t want to wash my hair and there’s no way some won’t end up in there.”
“Jesus, how can you be so practical?” Abe demanded. “You don’t mind me rubbing off on you, using you like a handful of tissues?”
“We used to do it all the time. I don’t mind doing something to prove you can trust me when it comes to sex.” Gary scratched at a spot of dried cum. “Here? Or in the bedroom?”
Abe hesitated—on the verge of leaving, Gary was sure of it—but something tipped the balance and he surged forward, huge in the darkness, strong hands and arms gathering Gary up and depositing him on his back on the cool wooden planks. He squirmed, arching away from the cold, and met Abe’s hand, stroking over his chest and down.
“You’re okay with this?” Abe asked him, his hand restless, eager, as if touching someone was a novelty. He slipped the other hand under Gary’s head, cushioning it.
Gary nodded, unsure if Abe could see him. On the floor, with the light from the outside bulb hidden by the couch, it was ink-dark, Abe’s body a vague, patch of shifting shadows. “Yeah. Do it. If you change your mind about going it solo, let me know.”
Abe made a sound that might’ve been a choked-off laugh. “I think I know what I’m doing when it comes to this. Lots of practice.”
Lying passive, waiting, should have made Gary feel disconnected from what was happening, but he was conscious of the odd intimacy that had grown between them so quickly, replacing the initial hostility and coolness. He didn’t reach up to touch Abe, but he allowed himself to make encouraging murmurs when Abe’s breath quickened to match the swift movements of his hand. Gary didn’t need to see to know Abe was close to coming.
“Wish I could see you.” He rolled his head against the cradle of Abe’s hand. “See your hand on your dick, see how hard it is.”
“Shut up,” Abe said, breathless, the words gritted out.
Gary ignored him, because Abe had moaned at the end. “You smell like sweat and cum. My cum.”
“Shut the fuck up, Gary.” Abe yanked his hand out from behind Gary’s head without warning, leaving Gary to discover all over again how hard a wooden floor was. Abe slapped his hand over Gary’s mouth. “Stop talking. Let me do this.”
Gary was damned if he’d let Abe gag him. Instinct took over and he bit at Abe’s big, warm hand, taking a piece of flesh between his teeth and licking at what he’d trapped, swirling his tongue over it. He could’ve pushed Abe away, squirmed free, but this was more fun.
Abe growled at him, sincere enough in his annoyance that Gary felt a pleasurable frisson, not of fear but anticipation. He wanted to keep pushing Abe. Someone had to.
“You always bite that hard?”
“Harder.” Gary snapped at Abe’s fingers, only managing to graze them with his teeth because Abe had eyes like his fucking cat and snatched his hand away. “Shut up and come on me already.”
“If I kiss you, will you bite?”
“Do it and find out.” Jesus, for a man complaining about chitchat, Abe was talking plenty himself now.
“Another time.” Abe lowered himself onto Gary, his weight supported on his elbow. His other hand still worked his cock, but now every stroke meant his knuckles were rubbing against Gary’s stomach. The kiss, when it came, wasn’t to Gary’s mouth, but his nipple, a brief sting of lips before Abe moved on. He kissed Gary’s body with a fervor that might’ve been flattering if Gary hadn’t known how long it’d been since Abe had someone to kiss. All the kisses were brief, hard, hungry, leaving his skin feeling marked. He felt as if he’d be able to look in a mirror afterward and see each place that Abe’s mouth had touched, as if the sensation would linger for hours. They were the kind of kisses that struck deep.
He couldn’t help putting his arms around Abe and pulling him closer, reminding himself there were no rules to whatever game this was. He needed to touch Abe as much as Abe apparently needed to kiss him. He skimmed his hands greedily over Abe’s back, all smooth skin and heat, and down to Abe’s ass. Jesus, it was still the perfect shape for his hands, a solid curve of meat and muscle. He wanted to fuck it, bite it, lick it, scratch it—he had a long list of ideas for that ass.
Driving away in a few days with anything left undone would be a pity and a shame, but he had to be realistic here.
Which didn’t stop him wondering if Abe had any sex toys around the place. Probably—sadly—not, but he could ask later.
There was something about being blanketed by two hundred pounds of aroused man. Peter had been controlled, always, clear and precise about voicing his wishes and inflexible when it came to any suggestion he deviate from what he’d planned. Abe was a force of nature, his breath hot against Gary’s neck now, teeth and tongue busy. At some point, he had stopped jerking off in favor of grinding against Gary’s thigh, his belly, his hip.
“You feel so fucking good.” Abe gripped a handful of Gary’s hair. “You’re so . . .” He broke off with a groan, leaving whatever he’d been about to say unfinished. Gary wanted to know what Abe thought of him, but it wasn’t the moment to demand clarification or more details. Abe was close to coming, his body moving in a familiar surge and retreat, mindlessly fucking air and skin, gasping out sounds, guttural and raw.
Gary was turned on too, but he’d come too recently to have a horse in this particular race. He ran a finger down the crease of Abe’s ass, teasing the opening to Abe’s body without trying to push his finger in dry. Abe bucked, startled. He wriggled, shamelessly trying to get Gary’s finger deeper.
You slut, Gary thought, pleased but not inclined to share his appreciation aloud. Before he could decide what to do, the problem resolved itself. Abe stiffened, his body freezing. He came with long, warm spurts that coated Gary’s stomach, silent, his body caught up so completely in his climax that everything else shut down. Gary didn’t think Abe bothered to breathe, judging by the shuddering gasp a few moments later when Abe collapsed against him, heavy and limp.
After a few seconds he coughed, and Abe rolled off him with a muttered apology.
“It’s okay.” His back and ass were protesting but he didn’t mind. The wood was warm against his body now, and when he was this exhausted, any horizontal surface would do as a bed.
Abe moved, reaching for one of the items of discarded clothing on the floor. Gary submitted to a cursory wipe up with the T-shirt.
When Gary passed the shirt back, Abe swiped at himself with it. “We stink.”
“You’d better be talking about a sniff test, not the sex, or my feelings will be as bruised as my ass.”
He didn’t need to see Abe to know he was smiling. “The sex was fine, and if you can take it, so can I. Bed. Come on.”
Abe got up and took Gary with him, hauling him to his feet unceremoniously before releasing him. Gary swayed, dizzy when the blood rushed to his head, and took a step toward his room.
Abe’s hand closed around his wrist, halting him.
“You’re going the wrong way. You’re sleeping with me.”
“I’m not cold now.”
“Good. You’re still sleeping with me.”
Abe seemed determined, which made Gary dig in his heels on principle. “You’re not concussed.”
“I knew that.”
“We had sex already.”
“I want to find out if you talk in your sleep.”
He gave up arguing, but got in a last warning. “If the cat’s in there, I’m going back to my own room, no matter what you say.”
Abe paused at the doorway, and Gary got a good look at him for the first time in a while. He looked sleepy, sated, and hot as hell, his face scuffed pink in places from coming into contact with Gary’s stubble. Gary didn’t feel much sympathy. His face stung for exactly the same reason.
“If Sailor’s in here, I’ll put him outside. Now unless you want to object to the thread count in the fucking sheets as well, suppose you get between them and button it. I’m tired.”
Gary eyed him in silence for a moment. He’d been right. Abe’s submissive streak clearly lasted only as long as his hard-on. He shrugged and walked over to the bed.
“And Fox?” Abe said when Gary was drifting off to sleep. “So we know where we stand, I’m not glad you’re leaving in a few days. I won’t stop you—I couldn’t do it before, so I don’t stand a chance now—but don’t expect me to be smiling when you drive off. Not gonna happen.”
Gary stared at the darkness, closed his eyes to shut it out, and didn’t answer.
Abe woke, disoriented and groggy for a moment. Opening his eyes and seeing Gary beside him, drooling onto the pillow, made everything snap back into focus.
Shit, his truck.
He turned to his side and picked up his alarm clock. It was a battery-operated one, small, reliable, familiar, and it told him it was around eight, which, yeah, was when he usually woke. He tried to work out how much sleep he’d had and gave up. More than enough to get by, even if it’d been interrupted by a meal and sex on the goddamned floor.
He remembered every detail of the night before, and blushed at the thought of how Gary had encouraged him and how little encouragement he’d needed.
Mornings after were hell. He hadn’t had many of them, but this one was going to the top of the list because he couldn’t dress and sidle out fast with a twitched smile and a sketchy wave. This wasn’t any guy. This was Gary, his Gary— No. Better not think of him that way.
At least he no longer thought of him as the cowardly little shit who’d run off and left him, breaking his heart in the process. Even though they probably still needed to talk about that.
God, he wanted to wake Gary up right now, and only his urgent need to take a leak moved him out of the bed. When Gary had the bed to himself, he grunted, rolled over, and sprawled out, his forehead puckering into a frown when his hand met empty sheets. Abe stood by the bed, watching him, his dick hard and his hands remembering how smooth Gary’s skin was. Gary was polished, pampered, a rich man’s pet. Next to him, Abe was a piece of wood, all splinters and rough edges. Abe had left Gary’s skin cum-streaked and bitten, marked it with his teeth and nails. He wanted to put him under a shower or into a bath and scrub him clean, but the image of Gary with his hair water-dark and his body slick with water and soap was more of a temptation than a penance.
He dragged his gaze away from Gary and went into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft snick. His reflection told him he looked like shit. A storm cloud of a bruise surrounded the cut on his forehead, and his eyes were puffy. He rubbed his hand over his chin, stubble rasping his fingers. He needed a shave too.
When he emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, his chin smooth and his hair curling damply but as clean as his body, Gary was awake. More than awake: up, standing naked at the window, and staring out at the pale morning light and the whirling snow.
“It’s still snowing.”
Abe smiled at the affronted incredulity in Gary’s voice. Figuring “told you so” was never a wise response, he nodded though Gary wasn’t looking at him. “I think it’ll ease off soon. That’s old snow blowing around. If the wind drops, everything will settle down.”
Gary’s ass held his attention more than the snow outside. He wanted to get his hands on it, but though only a few hours had passed since the last time he caressed it, Abe didn’t assume touching was allowed. He joined Gary at the window, studying the drifts. They deceived his eyes, making it difficult to judge their depth.
Gary shivered. “That’s a lot of snow.”
Without thinking, Abe put his arm around Gary and drew him close, the impulse to protect coming from somewhere deep. Gary stiffened and turned his head to glance up at him, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Sorry.” Abe let his arm drop away. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You did more than that last night, remember. Well, not last night exactly, but you know what I mean.”
“That was then and this is now. You don’t have to—I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t. Saying no doesn’t mean I’ll stop feeding you or kick you out.”
Gary smiled. “Abe. This is me you’re talking to. You’d never pull a trick like that on me. It’s okay. I�
��m going to get dressed because I’m freezing, but if you want a hug first, go ahead.”
He spread his arms wide and looked expectant.
Abe flushed, aware he’d amused Gary in some way, but not sure how. “I don’t. And no offense, but you might want to shower first.”
“Meaning I stink?” Gary grinned and let his arms fall to his side. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Save some hot water for the dishes.” Abe watched, and yeah, right on schedule a scowl replaced Gary’s smile.
The hot water heater was up to Gary’s demands, but he didn’t heed Abe’s advice. Abe made pancakes with bacon for breakfast, so Gary did the dishes and by the time he was done, the atmosphere was as icy as the water.
Gary didn’t like scrubbing pots and pans. Abe didn’t care. Gary could fish or cut bait. He’d let Gary call the shots during sex because that suited him, but when they weren’t fucking, he had no intention of letting Gary walk all over him.
The only saving grace was that even sulking, Gary had reached down to pet Sailor, who’d greeted him with a purr, winding between Gary’s legs with sinuous grace. Sailor’s enthusiasm was probably because Gary wore Abe’s clothes and smelled of him, but Gary seemed pleased by Sailor’s attentions so Abe didn’t share his theory.
When the kitchen was finally clean, Gary dried his hands with a sigh. “If the manual labor’s over for the moment, I think I’ll find a book to read. Though if the floor needs scrubbing, or a few toilets need my magic touch, please don’t hesitate to mention it.”
Abe let Gary get a book, one of the cozy mystery novels Linda was addicted to, and settle down on the couch before sitting by him, a coffee cup in his hand. Gary ignored him, turning pages with a studied indifference that made him want to take the book and use it to smack some manners into the guy.
Finally he couldn’t take the silence. “Where were you going?”
