Plaid Nights Anthology

by Torquere Press LLC

  The next two days were a blur, spent applying poultices and aconite and trying to coax Niall into drinking little sips of water and hot broth. Adie closed the store without a qualm; Niall needed him, and Adie intended to fight for the life of the man he loved, just as he’d once fought for his father’s life. He had lost that battle, but he was determined not to lose this one.

  He dozed in a chair beside the bed, waking at the slightest sound from Niall, and when his brain was too awhirl with worry and fear to let him sleep, he bowed his head and prayed. His neighbors might consider his love for Niall a sin, but God had made him and Niall the way they were. Surely that meant He wanted them to love and be loved too?

  On the morning of the third day, the fever broke, and Niall looked up at Adie with clear, lucid eyes, and Adie nearly wept with relief.

  “I was sick,” Niall croaked, his normally deep, rich voice still weak.

  “That you were.” Adie sat down on the side of the bed and clasped Niall’s hand, pressing it against his cheek, unable to keep from smiling.

  “You took care of me?”

  “I did,” Adie replied, pressing a kiss to Niall’s palm. “You didn’t come to the tavern, and I was worried. I went to your farm and found you feverish.”

  Niall looked around, taking in his surroundings. “You brought me to your home. Are you not worried about what people might think?” he asked, fixing Adie with a shrewd look.

  “I was more worried about you. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” Adie shivered and tightened his fingers around Niall’s hand as he thought of how close he’d come to losing Niall forever.

  “Could you not?” Niall’s gaze softened and he smiled up at Adie. “Dare I hope that means you care for me, at least a little?”

  Adie’s stomach clenched at the thought of admitting the truth—of speaking the words aloud at last and making them real—but he met Niall’s eyes and nodded. “More than a little. I love you, Niall McAllister, and I would be your man for the rest of my days if you’ll have me.”

  Niall groaned and reached up to pull Adie down into a fierce, tight embrace. “If I weren’t so weak, I’d have you on your back and plough you through the bed to the floor. I’ll have you and no other, Adie Gilchrist, for it’s you alone I love.”

  Adie’s heart soared as he clung to Niall, tears of joy prickling his eyelids. They would have to be careful, but they could—and would—make it work with none the wiser of what was truly going on behind their closed doors. Now that he knew Niall’s heart was his, he was ready to banish fear and welcome happiness.

  Over the next few days, Niall spent most of his time resting at Adie’s insistence. After such a close call, Adie didn’t want to risk Niall having a relapse. But Niall regained his strength with every passing day, and he was able to do more and more without exhausting himself. As much as he longed to touch and be touched, Adie refused Niall’s attempts to wheedle him into bed until he was certain Niall’s strength had recovered enough to withstand such vigorous activity.

  When that time came at last, he stripped off his clothes and prepared himself with oil. Then he went into the bedroom and drew back the covers, grinning at the way Niall was boggling at him. He’d never been so bold before, but he had no reason to hold back his desires in the privacy of his—their—own home.

  “Ready, my love?” he asked as he eased up the hem of Niall’s nightshirt, pleased to see Niall was already hard just from looking at him.

  “More than ready, my bonny lad,” Niall growled, his green eyes gleaming with desire as he watched Adie climb onto the bed and straddle his hips.

  There would be time enough for leisurely lovemaking in the days ahead. Right now, Adie didn’t want to touch and tease; he wanted to be joined with his man and seal the vow they had made to one another. His body longed to be filled and fucked by this man alone—his husband—and his cock was aching to be touched.

  Grasping Niall’s cock, Adie positioned himself, biting his lip with anticipation at the feel of the blunt head pressed against his hole. He impaled himself slowly, their cries of pleasure echoing in the quiet room. Adie arched his back as Niall reached out to pinch and tug his nipples just the way he liked, and he pushed down to seat Niall as deep as possible. After days of deprivation, he wanted to savor the feel of Niall’s thick cock filling him as long as possible because he knew neither of them would last long this time.

  He let out a hiss when Niall stroked his cock, his skin prickling with the heat of desire, and he could feel his need building swiftly. Letting his head fall back, he gave himself over to ecstasy, his release coming hard and fast as he spent all over Niall’s hand and chest. Niall scarcely gave him time to catch his breath before rolling him onto his back and driving deep. Adie didn’t hide the pleasure he felt at having Niall’s warm, heavy body atop him once more, moaning happily as he spread his legs like a wanton. He wound his arms around Niall, holding on tight and rocking his hips to match the rhythm of Niall’s body as Niall pounded his welcoming arse. All too soon, Niall let out a wild cry as he thrust deep and spilled within Adie. When he drew back, he was panting from the exertion, but his eyes were bright with joy.

  “My Adie,” he murmured, stroking Adie’s cheek before bending to press a tender kiss to Adie’s lips. “My own bonny lad.”

  “My Niall,” Adie whispered against Niall’s lips. “My husband.”

  Niall drew back and nodded, his expression solemn. “I am your husband and you are mine until death parts us.”

  “I’ll move to the farm if you like.” Adie sat up and watched Niall as he rolled away and reached for a little square of cloth on the bedside table. “Or you could live here. I could make you a partner at the store, so no one would think it odd that we work and live together.”

  Niall was silent, seeming lost in thought as he cleaned up Adie first and then himself. Tossing the cloth aside, he rolled toward Adie and gathered him close. “I’m of a mind to sell the farm,” he said at last. “Farming is what I know, but it isn’t what I love. I’ll use the money to buy my partnership with the paperwork all in order. Then you can teach me about being a shopkeeper, and we can live as friends who are as close as brothers.” He smirked wickedly at Adie, who grinned back.

  “Tomorrow,” Adie promised. “But as we’ve exchanged vows, that means today is our wedding day, and I want a proper wedding night.”

  “By proper, do you mean a night during which I fuck you again and again until you can’t walk a straight line?” Niall asked hopefully, and Adie laughed, all the love and happiness in his heart spilling over into the sound.

  “I mean exactly that.”

  Scarcely were the words out of his mouth before Niall was atop him again, claiming his lips with hungry kisses, and Adie returned them eagerly, wrapping his arms around Niall and holding him tight. Tomorrow, they would undertake the business of setting up their lives together, but for tonight, there was nothing else in Adie’s world but this man, their bed, and the love they shared, and that was more than enough to make him happy.

  The End

  If you liked this book you might like:

  Ari McKay’s “Call of the Night Singers” or “Caribbean Blues”

  Kilt in the Closet

  by Logan Zachary

  When a ghost scares his nephew, Jeff enlists the aid of his real estate agent to help him solve the mystery. But a sexy body and a kind heart may just get them kilt, and not by wearing a plaid skirt.

  My four-year-old nephew’s scream came from the bedroom. I raced up the stairs and threw open the door.

  Seth sat up in the center of the bed—my bed—and pointed at the open closet door. “Uncle Jeff, a man in a skirt is in there. He’s making scary sounds. Like he’s choking.”

  I stopped at the foot of the bed, directly in front of the closet door. I switched the light on inside the dark space and turned to Seth. “There’s no one here.” It was a tall closet with a high ceiling and two clothing racks filled with hangers of shirts
and pants. My winter coat hung there, too, and looked like a man standing inside. “It’s just a coat.”

  “No, he’s standing right behind you,” Seth said.

  I spun around, cold prickles running up my back as I tensed for a blow. But when I turned, I saw…nothing.

  “Where did he go?” I asked.

  Seth laid his head back down on the pillow and yawned. “It must have been that rope around his neck. That’s why he made those noises.”

  I stood in shock as Seth closed his eyes, snuggled under the blanket, and fell back to sleep. I looked into the closet. There was a cold spot inside as I turned off the light. I left the bedroom door open and headed toward the stairs.

  The phone rang, and I hurried down the steps to answer it.

  “Mr. Cooper,” my neighbor’s elderly voice demanded, “it’s after ten. Keep that brat quiet.”

  “Mr. Johnson, I’m sorry, but my nephew had a nightmare…”

  “I don’t care if you’re beating him senseless, keep him quiet.” And the phone clicked dead.

  Ralph Johnson was a retired Marine who trolled around the neighborhood looking for things to complain about. He called the police about barking dogs, loud music, uncut grass, burning trash and leaves. He was great as a member of the neighborhood watch, but not as the neighbor living next door.

  I set the phone down. My nephew’s shrieks had unnerved me, and they were loud enough for my neighbor to hear, too. I needed to know more.

  I headed over to my laptop computer. I typed “deaths” and my address into the browser. As the wheel spun on the screen for its search, I remembered my real estate agent had said a man died in my house. That was why it was listed so cheap.

  Maybe that explained the strange noises and footsteps walking up and down the hallway at night, the shadow that was there one second and gone the next, doors opening and closing, lights that came on and off, DVDs disappearing, and cold spots suddenly appearing.

  “Hanging Death Ruled a Suicide” was the first returned search item. I clicked on the link, and a picture of my house appeared in the newspaper article. It said John Newman had killed himself, and his wife and son had found his body hanging in the bedroom closet.

  A shiver ran down my back. All these strange events didn’t make sense, but they led to a creepy conclusion.

  I looked at the stairway going up to my room and waited for a ghostly figure to descend. How had Seth…? Did he really…? Was he dreaming? Was my house haunted? There was a creak on the floorboards upstairs. Was the house settling for the night or…?

  I closed my computer and peeked out the doors, locking up the house before turning off the lights. I quickly brushed my teeth and slipped into bed next to my nephew, pulling him close, more for my peace of mind than his.

  My sister would return tomorrow and pick Seth up. He usually stayed with his dad, but this weekend, his father was out of town on business. Seth and I had hit Chuck E. Cheese’s and Toys”R”Us, so we had a fun weekend until tonight, when this man in the closet scared me, too. I pulled the covers over us and watched my nephew sleep, guarding him from the man in the closet. His warm body drove the chill away from mine. His soap and water freshness returned normalcy to calm my nerves.

  ***

  I knew I was dreaming, and this was a familiar one, a favorite one.

  I walked across the sunny field and waited for him to appear. My skin tingled with excitement as I lay on a soft blanket and watched him step out of the woods. The pleated, plaid material rose on his hairy legs as a cool breeze flowed over the field, over us. My eyes widened and my arousal grew with each step he took.

  His face was flushed. Beads of sweat ran down it and across his bare torso. As he neared, I could smell his musky male scent. I knew this smell; it made my mouth water and my heart race.

  He stood over me, his smooth, young face looking down at me with the bluest eyes, and his essence escaped as his kilt flipped up. He was a young highlander with strawberry curls and a ripped body sneaking away from an afternoon’s sheep herding.

  I could see what was happening, but I could also feel what he was feeling. The hair on his balls tickled his tender skin as the draft flowed over him. His semi-hard cock flopped up and down as his bump grew. A hand, my hand, reached under the fabric and grabbed him. I rolled the heavy balls around with my thumb and gently pulled down, massaging his full sack. My thumb found the root of his erection and slipped up the thick shaft. It followed the groove underneath and up to the mushroom head. A warm wetness oozed out of the tip and drooled down the fleshy tube. My fingers stroked along it and smoothed the thick fluid along the way. My hand grasped his girth and slowly rubbed up and then down, milking more pre-come out.

  My hand grasped the wet end and circled it. The thick member jumped under the touch. My touch. I was the man, and he was my lover. It had been a long time since I had seen him. I knew this body and inhaled his scent. He was a part of my heart and soul, a part of me.

  “Bend over,” a male voice said. It sounded like mine, but it was deep in my mind, and nothing made sense in my dream. The back of his kilt flopped up, and two orbs peeked out. The glutes spread, curly red hairs covering each cheek down to a tight, pink pucker, which was smooth and shiny. A finger touched it, circling around and around as it pressed into the center seeking entry, teasing the muscle to relax. It knew its way. I seemed to lean forward and tasted the smooth hole. The sphincter tightened as my tongued drilled into the bud.

  The kilt fell back over my head and darkness descended over me as I licked and probed. The heat rose as did the manly smell of hairy balls and sex. Pre-come flowed along his cock and dripped onto my hand. I spread the human lube over his sack and kneaded the heavy balls inside, pulled down on the low hangers.

  He spread his legs wider, granting me deeper access. I kissed him and the drool flowed down my chin. My erection strained, aching to plow into his tight hole. My tongue loosened his pucker and penetrated further along his smooth chute.

  “Do me,” he begged, “do me, now.”

  I rose, pulled out my dick and lubed it up. As I teased his pucker with my fat tip, his ass opened and swallowed me whole. I drove into him to the hilt, my balls bouncing off his.

  He rocked his hips back and forth, and I matched his sway. The pleasure rose quickly between us. He leaned back, and my hand found his cock and stroked his shaft under the kilt. He lifted the front of the plaid material, and a breeze flowed over our tenders.

  The draft over my balls, tickling the coarse hair, added to the rising joy. Faster, harder, deeper, I plowed into him and he matched me thrust for thrust.

  “I…am…going…to…” was all he said as his dick exploded in my hand. White hot thick come flowed between my fingers and over my palm as the load lubed his shaft even more.

  My cock buried itself deep inside him and shot its load. As my spunk slammed into his prostate, another wave gushed out of his balls. I pulled back and shoved in as another orgasm surged into him; spasm after spasm filled his ass with my seed.

  His hard dick came one last time and then his whole body shuddered as the sensation was too much and his legs let go. He sank to the ground with me still deep inside. One last wave ebbed out of me, and I collapsed on top of him. Sweat poured over our bodies, and I was dripping wet…

  The alarm went off with Simple Minds singing about not forgetting about me. My T-shirt and underwear were soaked with sweat, and a gooey load of come filled my briefs.

  I’d had a wet dream.

  I hadn’t had one since I was thirteen.

  But my face was wet with saliva, too, and a curly hair was on my cheek. The rough feeling of coarse plaid made my cheeks tender as if rope burned. The delicious scent and flavor was still there. How many dreams were that vivid?

  I rolled over to turn off the alarm before Seth woke up, but found my hand covered in come, still hot and dripping. I wiped it on my T-shirt before I hit the off switch. I was glad I had a king sized bed, and Seth was hugging the o
pposite edge.

  Seth rolled over and continued to snore softly.

  I got out of bed, stripped on the way to the bathroom, and tossed my damp clothes into the hamper. I jumped into the shower and the cold spray quickly turned hot as the steam filled the tiled room. Sweat and semen washed down my body as my semi-erect penis still dripped its load. I washed along the girth, the skin still sensitive and reactive. My balls slowly dropped with the heat of the shower. Water blasted my skin and woke up every nerve fiber. Inhaling, I could still smell the man on me.

  I soaped up my butt and explored my tight opening, letting the foam clean every inch of my body. As the water rinsed me clean, I savored the wonderful feeling, and then I paused. Was that a dream, or had that been the man in my closet? Had I just had ghost sex?

  Nah. I swallowed and savored the lingering taste.

  ***

  After my sister picked up Seth, I paced the house, went over every inch of the closet, and searched online for hours. I couldn’t find anything. I needed to know more. What had happened in my house? Who was this dead man who seemed to be haunting my closet?

  The only person I could think of who could help was Megan Hathaway, my real estate agent. Fortunately, she had Sunday afternoon hours. I headed to her office.

  A handsome young man was there, perhaps her assistant? He was about twenty-two with dark curly hair, brown eyes, and a perfect soccer player’s body.

  “Hi, may I help you?” he asked. His smile was warm and inviting.

  My body responded, and I felt my jeans and underwear become a lot tighter. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. As I looked into his eyes, I felt a connection, a familiarity and a comfort, but I didn’t know why. I wanted to touch him, kiss him. I leaned back to hide my arousal, afraid he’d notice.

  “Hi. I’m Jeff Cooper. Megan sold me my house, and I have a few questions for her.”

  “I’m Nathan. Megan just stepped out—a problem at one of the open houses. She should be back in twenty minutes. Is there something I can help you with?”