by Willa Okati
Or at least Allen tried to make it a matter of utmost importance. His tongue could all but taste Chance’s musky flavor without barriers in the way, and his cock throbbed so that he was just about afraid that a simple touch with the rubber would send him over the edge.
Gotta hold on, Allen boy, he ordered himself. Make every second of this count. You may only have the one shot before he comes to his senses. Which the younger man would, Allen knew. This couldn’t be more than a fling for Chance, a little game of risk and reward. Allen trusted his lover to know what he wanted -- he couldn’t not -- but he didn’t consider himself stupid, either.
Chance would go where the wind blew, and Allen would have a memory to keep him warm. Seemed fair to him.
The thoughts had cooled Allen down enough that he was able to get up on his knees and place the tip of the condom over Chance’s cock without fear of shooting off, and then the other one on himself -- that was, until Chance raised himself on one elbow and reached out. “Let me,” he begged. “Please?”
Allen couldn’t resist the younger man’s hopeful look. “Sure.” He leaned back on his heels with his cock thrust forward, eager for Chance’s touch. “Go for the gold.”
Chance took surprising care with the operation. His forehead furrowed as he cautiously balanced the condom and unrolled it down the length of Allen’s prick. The feel of his hands set Allen on fire again, but it was a manageable blaze. Chance didn’t stop until the whole thing had been smoothed down and petted into place and Allen was just about out of his mind.
Good thing, too. Hurricane Chance surged up again, eager arms grabbing, hot fingers pressing, pulling Allen down against that strong young body as if Allen weighed no more than a feather. Allen hooted in surprise as Chance tangled with him, rolling them over and over until they were on the very edge of the bed, then changed directions and flipped back into the middle.
“Like to play, huh?” Allen asked when he was on top again, chuckling as Chance chortled. “You are a one for games.”
Chance grinned. “Can’t be helped.” He lifted his hips, pressing tight against Allen’s groin. “You play, too?”
“Can’t be helped,” Allen echoed, lowering his face for another kiss. Just to see if he could get away with it without going too far, he began to rock against Chance’s cock and belly. The feel of their shafts bashing together sent his mind into the stratosphere, all lingering capability of thought process left far behind. Except for fragments of more, harder, faster.
Allen heard a moan from beneath him and sensed that Chance was picking up the pace. They bucked against one another, coming dangerously close to the grand finale, slowing down, then picking their pace back up. Allen felt like he was swimming a hundred meters at lightning pace, diving in and out of a charged blue sea.
Couldn’t last, though. Riding out the wave of yet another near-orgasm, Allen pulled to a stop. “No more,” he managed. “Now.”
Chance looked as dizzy as Allen felt, but gave an eager nod. “Please.”
Allen changed positions just enough to reach up and grab the lubricant where it waited patiently for them. “On your back,” he ordered. “Spread your legs for me.”
Chance’s lower limbs parted immediately, stretching wide. He raised his hips without being told to, then seemed to change his mind and drew his knees up tight against his chest. His tight little ass cheeks parted, giving Allen a look inside the puckered hole. Chance shook his head, hair going flying again. “Now,” he panted. “Please. Now.”
“Don’t want to hurt you.” Allen uncapped the bottle and squeezed a thick dollop of lube into his hands. Good short nails, neatly trimmed, no need to worry about those. He rubbed the fluid together in both palms, warming it up. The cabin seemed cold on his exposed backside, and that slick was definitely chilly. Didn’t want to give Chance the shock of a lifetime, since he was So. Damned. Hot. “Hang on, Chance. Here I come.”
He slathered lube between Chance’s ass cheeks, getting him good and slippery. Then, his own hand shaking a bit, he thrust one finger up against the hole, gave it a few taps just to see Chance startle and moan, then slid inside. Chance opened right up for him, easy as breathing, Allen’s finger going inside with hardly any resistance.
Encouraged, Allen tried for two.
“Oh!” Chance bucked up almost all the way onto his elbows. “Allen!”
Allen stopped dead in his tracks. “Chance? Too much? Too fast?” He stroked the other man’s lower belly with his free hand, feeling it quake beneath his fingers. “Talk to me.”
His lover shook his head. “Not too much,” he said, panting. “Just... been a while.”
“I can go slower.”
That earned him another shake. “No. Feels good. More. Please, more.” Chance’s eyelids fluttered shut. “I like it.”
If his erection, pulsating and pushing a few drops of clear fluid against the inside of the condom, was anything to go by, Chance certainly was enjoying himself. Allen pushed down his own doubts and, very carefully, inserted a third finger, good and lubricated.
Chance let out another one of those howls, way too sexy for a single man, and pushed back, swallowing Allen’s fingers up to the last knuckle. He was breathing too quick, too shallow, but making happy little moans as if this were the best ever.
Damn, but it did wonders for the ego. And the soul. Those noises put heart in a man. Allen kissed the soft skin on the inside of Chance’s thigh and began scissoring his fingers open, stretching ever so gently and slowly, then laughing when Chance writhed and pleaded for more, muttered curses dying on his lips for lack of air.
Allen took his time, but sooner rather than later, Chance was stretched and relaxed enough, his puckered hole demanding the attention of a tongue or a cock. Tongue Allen wasn’t so sure about, so to make up for the lack, he licked a long, teasing streak down Chance’s thigh and nipped him ever so lightly.
Another howl. Allen thought that he could really get used to those.
“Ready?” he asked, struggling up and getting into position on his knees between Chance’s spread legs, one of which came to lock around his waist while the other hooked over Allen’s shoulder. “Say yes or say no.”
Chance opened his eyes, groaned out something that sounded encouraging, and tried to pull Allen closer. He rocked his hips, entreating Allen for cock without saying a single coherent word.
Allen felt a small charge of power. “Yes or no?” He insisted, wanting to hear it from Chance’s lips.
Chance snarled. “Yes!”
“All I needed to hear.” Allen used one slick hand to guide his dick to Chance’s stretched entrance, carefully aligned the head with shaking fingers and began a slow, gentle push inside. “Oh, God,” he said on a long exhale of breath. “Tight. So tight.”
“Been a... long time...” Chance repeated, seeming to search with his hands for something to hang onto. He found the quilt again and knotted his fingers in it. “More. Please.”
Allen gave him more, and then some. He couldn’t stop himself. One long smooth glide, and he was buried balls-deep, Chance’s hungry little body gulping him down. No waiting once he was in there, either. Allen’s own muscles took control, and he began thrusting in and out, slippery-fast, pounding Chance into the mattress like he hadn’t fucked in years. Like he’d never fucked a man before.
Nothing had been like this in years. Not with Chance’s hands coming loose of the quilt and grabbing tight, urging Allen on silently; not with the tight squeezing of his cock as it disappeared into an amazingly snug channel; not with the feeling that he was almost flying.
It only got better when Allen found Chance’s prostate and, with an exhilarated laugh, he changed positions ever so slightly to bump that spot every time he shoved in and pulled out. Chance went positively crazy, howling and keening and writhing, demanding more, more, more.
Allen delivered. He felt like this was his first time all over again, like he was young and could go all night. Beads of sweat ran down his forehe
ad, dripping onto Chance’s belly. He felt his hair grow damp with the effort, and recognized the voice swearing things fit to turn the air blue was his own.
The orgasm built up slowly, but with a firm insistence that was not to be denied in this final charge. Allen fucked with a crazed determination, wanting as much of Chance as he could get before the inevitable occurred. He couldn’t get enough of the man’s sounds and the way he felt.
Soon enough, though, all the hoopla came to its inevitable satisfying conclusion. Pounding as hard as he could through the beginning waves, Allen growled and then shuddered shock-hard as his balls, drawn up solid as rocks, let go with their payload. He felt the warm splash of semen bathing him inside the condom.
His instinctive reaction was to collapse and start panting, but damned if he’d be that inconsiderate. Pushing his willpower further than he ever had before, Allen reached for Chance’s twitching dick and began to jack him off, good sturdy strokes up and down. Chance threw his head back and wailed, trailing off into a howl, then shouted as he began to come, his body clenching down so tightly around Allen’s cock that Allen felt himself shake a second time, a dry orgasm that turned out the lights and hung a sign on the door on its way out.
When he could see again, things had changed. He lay pillowed on Chance’s chest, trembling fingers combing through his lover’s hair. Allen’s breath came in quick bursts against Chance’s soft skin and, from what he could hear, Chance himself was panting, eyes closed.
Allen withdrew and slowly sat up, knowing he had to deal with the condoms but not quite ready yet. He stretched to run his fingers across one of Chance’s sharp cheekbones, murmuring to himself as Chance arched into the touch and kissed his hand.
“Good?” he asked after a moment, praying to God that the answer would be--
“Oh, yes.” Chance’s eyes opened, hazy blue aglow with pleasure. “Like never before.”
Allen felt his lips curving into a nearly stoned smile. “Glad,” he said simply, letting Chance lick at his fingers. “Me, too.”
Chance rumbled, a low sound just like a contented animal. Allen let them enjoy the hazy laziness for a moment, then quickly dealt with the condoms and lay back down. He shifted their positions, pulling Chance’s head to rest on his own shoulder, holding the young man tight. Wishing this never had to end.
“Stay the night?” Chance whispered, rubbing his face against Allen’s arm. “The whole night?”
“Don’t know if I can go a third time,” Allen admitted, hating to let Chance down. “Maybe if I rest a little.”
“Doesn’t matter.” His lover found Allen’s hand and knit their fingers together in a solid grip. “Just stay to hold me. That’d be fine.”
Allen threw caution to the winds again; Chance made him want to be reckless. “Mmm. Then I’ll stay.” Tomorrow night’s dance club date be damned. Liam might get pissed off, but the little man would have to cope. The column coming due would have to wait, too. No hours at the practice, so he didn’t have to worry.
Nowhere else he wanted to go, and no place else that he’d rather be. As long as this lasted, he’d savor every second.
Concentrating solely on breathing and enjoying, Allen let himself relax. He felt boneless and lazy, soaking up Chance’s warmth and even ignoring the tickle of Chance’s blond hair against his chin. Everything was damned near perfect. No, no, that was putting it mildly. It was perfect. Nothing could be better.
Allen got a tighter hold on Chance, ready to tell him so--
--and something crashed into the front window. He had one split second to recognize the sound of glass breaking before whatever had been thrown in hit the floor -- then burst into flames!
Chapter Seven
Allen’s response was automatic. “Shit!” A quick check to see if Chance was okay -- which he was, since Allen had shielded him from the flying glass -- and Allen’s instincts took over. He ran bare-ass naked to the quickly spreading fire, picked up his own shirt, and began to beat it out.
Behind him, Chance let out a low, keening wail. He sounded like an animal in trouble.
“It’ll be all right,” Allen called back, slapping at the flames. “I think I’ve got most of this put out. Ow!” A spark had leapt up and singed his arm. “It’s fine, Chance. Don’t worry.”
Too late. Chance had rolled out of bed, still graceful as an animal, and run up to Allen’s side. He’d grabbed Allen’s pants and now shoved Allen out of harm's way. “Let me,” he said, albeit with a trembling voice. “I’m -- tougher -- than you.”
Allen barked out a laugh. “You? Sorry, Chance, but I think I’d better handle this. No insult.”
“None taken.” Chance pushed Allen again. “Please, stop talking. The fire’s just going to get worse.”
“Yeah, but you’re using my pants to put it out?” Allen found himself snorting with ill-placed humor. “Figures. I’m moving, I’m moving! Sheesh.” Chance had roughhoused him completely out of the way and was busily, and efficiently, putting the blaze out.
Much too easily. Allen frowned deeply, feeling his eyebrows knit together, as he watched the skillful way Chance moved. It looked uncannily like Chance had had some practice at this. Had someone tried to firebomb him before?
Speaking of which, where were the bastards who had chucked this through Chance’s window? Allen sidestepped the mostly vanquished flames and headed for the damaged window, careful of any glass shards on the floor. Luckily, the window was high enough that he didn’t flash more of his goodies as he peered out into the night.
Couldn’t see much, though. Damned fog still shrouded everything. Allen thought he heard someone snickering out in the darkness, but he had no way to know for sure.
A cold nose thrust itself into Allen’s hand. He looked down to see Spot hugging his legs, tail firmly down as he whined and shook with fear. The veterinarian and dog lover in Allen came to the fore. He squatted, rubbing Spot’s head and back.
“Hey, hey, it’ll be all right,” he crooned. “Gotta ask why you didn’t warn us they were coming, but you’re still a good dog.”
“Oh, God, Spot!” Chance stomped out the last bit of fire and cast Allen’s pants aside. He rushed close to hold the Dalmatian, nudging Allen out of the way once again. Chance looked up pleadingly. “He... he’s seen this before.” Those big eyes held a world of apology. “He knows better than to make a fuss. I’ll explain later, promise. Let me make sure he’s not hurt first.”
“All yours,” Allen said, withdrawing. Happened before, huh? Just as he’d suspected. He’d get to the bottom of this -- Chance had some pretty talking to do. For the time being, though, he’d let it go. When they were safe again.
Chance murmured nonsensical words and threw his arms around Spot, stroking and petting the dog. He began to make a low yipping sound that Spot slowly answered, nosing his way against Chance’s shoulder.
Allen laughed a little tremulously. “You’ve really got to teach me how you make those noises.” Dark humor rushed in on the aftermath of his adrenaline burst. “They’d come in handy at the office.”
Chance ignored him for the dog, but Allen didn’t mind. He sat heavily back on his heels, watching Spot and owner bond. He added his own voice to the soothing sounds, hoping the Dalmatian would chill, but no joy. Spot continued to act as if the bogeyman was in the room and ready to take a chomp out of his hide.
Chance looked up, face troubled. “Hold him for a minute? I think someone’s still outside.”
“I can look,” Allen offered. “Although I don’t think you’ll see much. The fog’s too thick. I did hear someone snickering, though, so they’re still out there. Be careful.”
“Doesn’t matter if I can’t see, I can smell,” Chance said absently. He gave Spot one last rub and raised himself to a standing position.
“Watch your feet. I don’t know how I avoided it, but there’s broken glass everywhere. Get some shoes on first.” Allen sat down completely and checked his own soles for damage, but they were remarkabl
y intact. He whistled softly. “I’d have to say this is my lucky night, huh?” he asked Spot.
Spot whimpered and attempted to fit into Allen’s lap. His bare lap, with bits that didn’t appreciate a heavy dog’s toenails. Yelping and wincing, Allen pushed Spot aside and stood up. “Sorry, boy. Let me see if there’s anything left of my pants, and then maybe we can have some quality bonding time.”
He glanced at Chance, standing stock-still at the window. “See anything?” The oddity of Chance’s statement struck him. “Smell anything? What do you mean, smell?”
“Shh,” Chance came back, apparently absorbed in whatever the hell he was doing. His head was cocked as if he were scenting the dusky breeze that blew in. “I have to concentrate. They’re good at masking their signatures.”
“Uh-huh.” Allen eyed Chance warily. That earlier theory about psycho killers was starting to look uncomfortably closer to the truth than he might have hoped. Chance had definitely gone around the bend -- hell, could anyone blame him? The life he must lead, where he knew how to put out a fire that fast... Allen wasn’t sure why, but he found himself sympathetic instead of freaked out. Maybe it was just the overall effect Chance had on him. The young man brought out his protective instincts.
“I can’t tell if they’re out there or not,” Chance said with a shake of his head. “They must be hiding. I don’t think they would do this and just leave me alone.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. Your brothers?” Allen leaned wearily against the wall. He picked up his pants and sighed at the huge burned spots running down the legs. They’d be wearable, but only just. “Chance, you really do need to reevaluate your family situation.”
Chance flicked Allen a regretful look. “Wish I could.” He turned back to the window and started making more yipping noises.
And we go from weird to weirder. Allen didn’t bother with trying to find his underwear. He hurried into his pants as quickly as he could, stuffed his feet into his shoes, and rushed to Chance’s side. He tried to tug the younger man from his position at the window. “Hey, come on. If you can’t see anyone or -- okay, smell them -- then it’s probably wiser to stay back. They could have something else to throw. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
