Cherry Pie

by Samantha Kane

  Connor’s response to Cheryl’s question had blown him away. He’d been shocked speechless Connor had all but admitted he was gay and they were sleeping together. John had been playing it cool because he didn’t think Connor wanted anyone to know. He’d read that wrong. But in his earlier outburst in the kitchen, Connor had asked why they weren’t fucking. Not involved, not together, nothing romantic. Just fucking.

  And that was fine with John. He wasn’t looking for more. He couldn’t handle it. It was too soon. He’d pretty much had a breakdown when Steve died. He crossed his arms and looked around the kitchen in dismay. Pretty much? Um, hello, John? You packed up all your worldly possessions and moved to bum-fuck North Carolina on a whim. That wasn’t pretty much. That was completely.

  Yep, as Connor would say. But the thing was, he wasn’t unhappy here. And this thing with Connor was probably helping him. He’d wanted to change his life. A casual friends-with-benefits fuck buddy was definitely not his usual style. Just because he still wanted Connor, just because they were fucking, didn’t mean John couldn’t stay in control. It didn’t mean he had to center his life around Connor. It was fucking, plain and simple. They liked each other; the sex had been great. They could do that for a while, until it got old, and then they could move on. People did it all the time.

  While he’d been rationalizing his feelings, John had walked over to the foot of the stairs. “Connor?” he called out quietly. There was no answer. He started up the stairs, remembering the last time he’d sneaked up here. If he caught Connor masturbating again, he didn’t have to sneak away this time. He could go right up and take over. The thought made him sweat. He’d wanted to just talk to Connor. But he’d been fooling himself. He wanted to fuck Connor again. And it was pretty clear that Connor wanted it too. Which was convenient.

  When he reached the top of the stairs, he could see Connor in the early evening light, sitting sideways on his bed, his back against the wall, watching the stairs.

  “What are you doing?” John asked as he stood outside Connor’s door. He hadn’t done anything to the room yet. The cans of yellow paint sat against one wall.

  “Sitting here thinking.” Connor’s low voice hit John in the gut, and everything clenched. He knew. He knew why John was here.

  “About what?”

  “What do you want, John?” Connor asked. He slid over to sit on the side of the bed, his fists resting on the sheets beside him. His head was tipped to the side as he waited for John’s answer.

  “This doesn’t have to be forever,” John said as he leaned casually against the door frame.

  “Nothing has to be forever,” Connor agreed. His voice was getting even lower.

  “Then I want to fuck you again,” John said.

  Without a word Connor pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. John started to unbutton his shirt, but Connor said, “No.” John stood there with his hands at his sides, not sure what Connor wanted. Connor huffed out a breath as he looked away, out the window, in a gesture John was becoming familiar with. It meant he was going to admit something he’d rather not. “I like the shirt.” He looked back at John, and a faint blush stained his cheeks. “I like the big Rolex and the pink shirt and the way they make your arm look.” He shrugged. “It’s sexy.”

  John bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. “You like the pink, huh?” He sauntered over to the bed and ran his hands over Connor’s shoulders and down to his chest, where he lightly pinched Connor’s nipples. He could see the hard-on tenting his shorts. Connor had gone casual as soon as they’d gotten home from church, but John liked being dressed up. He hadn’t dressed up in ages.

  Connor rested his hands on John’s wrists and ran them up his forearm in a light caress that made the hair on his arms stand up. “I like the arms.” He rested his hands on John’s hips, his thumbs rubbing the crease between his thigh and groin. John stepped closer. “And the pink.”

  John laughed. “I knew you did. You like me gay.”

  “Mmm,” Connor mumbled, cupping John’s ass and rubbing his face against John’s dick through his pants. “Yep.”

  Connor unbuckled John’s belt in that slow, deliberate way of his. He slid it out of the belt loops, and each little tug as it cleared one made John’s dick jerk with excitement. Connor set the belt on the end of the bed. Then he turned back and undid John’s pants. By the time Connor had his pants pushed down to his ankles, John thought he was going to jump out of his skin. Then Connor began to unbutton his shirt from the bottom up.

  “I thought you wanted the shirt on,” he murmured, running his hand through Connor’s hair.

  “I’m not taking it off,” Connor answered. “But I want to see you.” He parted the unbuttoned shirt and just looked at John from his chest to his crotch and back again. “Damn, you’re hot.”

  John laughed self-consciously. “I make do.”

  Connor shook his head. “No, I mean it. You’re so good-looking sometimes I…” He let the thought trail off and shook his head again.

  John closed his fist in Connor’s hair and raised his head until Connor had to look at him. “You what?”

  “I think that I’m very lucky.”

  John knew that wasn’t what he was going to say, but he let it pass. “Well, you’re about to be, anyway.”

  Connor gave him that little lopsided grin. “So are you.” He leaned over and took the tip of John’s cock in his mouth, humming around it. John dropped his head back with a groan, keeping hold of Connor’s hair. He could feel Connor’s head move as his mouth slid farther down John’s cock. Being in Connor’s mouth was mind-blowing. The same mouth that didn’t talk much, the mouth that housed that deep voice that never failed to give John shivers. The mouth he’d stared at for hours it seemed, trying to catch Connor’s smiles, not so rare anymore. “Jesus, don’t stop, Conn,” he moaned, the nickname slipping out. His reward was a deeper suction on his cock, to the back of Connor’s throat.

  John struggled to think through the haze of pleasure. “Wait,” he mumbled, pulling on Connor’s hair slightly. “This isn’t how I want it.”

  Connor came off his dick slow and smooth, with soft, wet sucks that made John’s hips jerk. Connor buried his nose in the hair right next to the base of his cock. “How do you want it?” he asked. He kissed John’s hip. “That’s how I want it too.”

  John pushed him back on the bed. He struggled to undo the button on Connor’s shorts. “First, I want to suck you off. Then I want to fuck you.”

  Connor’s hands came up and covered his face. “Jesus,” he muttered. He lifted his hips, and John pulled the shorts down, and then he lifted his legs so John could pull them off.

  “Is that a yes?” John asked, kicking his shoes off and pulling his own pants off.

  Connor nodded. He hadn’t moved his hands. “Watch me,” John told him.

  Connor pulled his hands away and set them down on the bed beside him. He crooked his head so he could see John. It wasn’t until John was sure he was watching that he knelt down between Connor’s spread legs. He reached for Connor’s cock. It was a fat cock, heavy and leaking, and his mouth watered, he wanted to taste it so bad. Connor caught his hand before he could touch it.

  “No,” he said. He nodded in the other direction. “The other one. The one with the watch.”

  John smiled to himself and switched hands, but Connor tugged on the hand he still held to get John’s attention.

  “I’m clean, John. I know…with my past…” He breathed out heavily. “But I haven’t been with anyone besides you for almost three years. And I had to have regular tests when I was on probation. So…I’m clean. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Several things went through John’s mind, including the fact that he hadn’t thought to ask. What was it about Connor that made him forget to be smart? But he didn’t comment on that. “I am too,” he said. “And it’s healthy. You’re healthy. Clean has nothing to do with it.”

  Connor smiled sadly. “It has eve
rything to do with it.” He raised himself slightly, leaning back on his hands. “Go. I can see you now.”

  “Good.” There was so much more he wanted to say. But with Connor, somehow he always ended up not saying more than he did say. But what he wanted to say wasn’t going to help either of them. And this wasn’t about the past or the future. It was about now. It was about eating his cherry pie right now.

  John smiled at the thought as he took Connor in his mouth. Connor sucked in a breath and held it, his whole body tense. John deep throated him, the way he’d been dying to since the day he’d let him in. He slid his hands up Connor’s thighs and onto his stomach, then around to his back.

  “Johnny,” Connor whispered. John looked up. Connor’s head had fallen back on his shoulders. He had his eyes closed. He wasn’t watching anymore, but that was all right. He’d whispered John’s name. He knew who had him.

  John worked his mouth on Connor with real enjoyment. He tasted wonderful, and he was a firm mouthful, not too little and not too big. He kept his hips still, letting John do the work, letting John take control. John had almost never been in control with Steve.

  Every once in a while Connor let out a little sound from the back of his throat, deep and harsh. John loved that sound. Loved that he made Connor talk like that, made him lose control. He could hear Connor’s breath going in and out, hard and fast. He slid his hand down and caressed Connor’s balls, the hair soft on his fingertips. He cupped them, and Connor whimpered, so quiet he almost missed the sound. He smiled around the cock in his mouth and took him deep again.

  “Johnny, I’m not gonna last much longer,” Connor whispered. There was just a hint of panic in his voice. “I’m sorry, but it feels so damn good. If you don’t want me to come, you better stop right now.”

  John’s response was to swallow around Connor’s cock in his throat.

  “Jesus,” Connor cried out, his hips bucking slightly.

  John continued to do it, over and over, pausing to take a breath and then starting again. He could feel Connor’s cock go rigid and start pulsing, just moments before he tasted his cum on the back of his tongue. He continued to swallow as Connor curled up slightly and his hips and cock jerked. One hand came down on John’s shoulder, gripping it tight.

  When it was over Connor lowered himself to the bed and ran his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. “Jesus, Johnny,” he whispered. “That was fuckin’ amazing.” The heavy accent that turned John on was back.

  John laughed slightly as he wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb. “I’m pretty good at it, yeah,” he said without shame.

  Connor laughed weakly. “That is the understatement of the day.”

  John crawled on top of him, framing him with his knees and hands, the open sides of his pink shirt falling around him, cocooning them. He stared down at Connor. But Connor wasn’t looking at him. He was looking over at his left arm. Connor reached over and wrapped his hand around John’s left wrist. He circled John’s watch with his fingers and then ran his hand up John’s forearm.

  “You gonna fuck me now, Johnny?” he whispered, still looking at his arm, toying with his watchband.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” John whispered back.

  Connor looked at him then. “Face-to-face?”

  John nodded. “Face-to-face.”

  Connor grinned his little lopsided grin and, with a hand wrapped around John’s nape, pulled him down for a kiss.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Conn lay over John’s back, still inside him, still breathing heavily. His world was still rocking. The past night had been, without a doubt, the best sex he’d ever had in his life. He slid his hand under John’s shoulder and rubbed his nose in his gorgeous hair. The sunlight glinted off the gray in the dark strands. John smelled like sex. And money. Conn had been around enough to know when a man’s scent was expensive. He shook his head slightly. This guy was so far out of his league it was a joke, the two of them together.

  John’s hand covered his. It was such a simple little gesture. But it caught Conn off guard. There was feeling behind it. Conn had never been with a guy he had feelings for or who cared for him. It was different. It was, as corny as it sounded, better. He kissed the side of John’s head.

  “You’re as good at that as you are on the bottom,” John murmured with a breathless little laugh. “And I honest to God didn’t think that was possible.”

  Conn felt a little thrill of pride. He nipped John’s earlobe. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

  “Uh-uh,” John declined vehemently. “Oh no.” He rolled over, forcing Conn to come up onto his hands and knees. John poked him in the chest. “When we fuck, you better be who and what you want. Don’t put that on me. Don’t say it’s all for me.”

  Conn grabbed his finger. “Relax, Johnny. I just meant that I like it all, so whatever you’re in the mood for, chances are I’m not going to protest.” Conn’s heart was pounding, and he was trying hard not to show it. John may say he didn’t want more than this, but he was pretty unselfish in bed for a guy who was in it just for a fuck.

  Conn’s comment took the wind out of John’s sails. “Oh,” he said. He tugged his finger out of Conn’s grip and looked down. “Maybe you should take care of that?”

  Conn followed his gaze to the condom barely clinging to his now limp dick. He laughed. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He carefully climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  When he got back, John was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pink shirt and underwear holding his guitar. “Here,” he said, holding it out. His voice sounded funny, and Conn took the offering cautiously. He strummed his fingers down the strings. It was badly out of tune.

  “Why are you giving me your guitar?” he asked without looking at John.

  “It’s not mine.”

  Conn placed his hand against the strings to silence them. He looked up at John. “Whose is it?” he asked, but he already knew.

  “Steve’s.”

  Conn wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Do you play?”

  “No.” It was never good when John started sounding like him. He was looking at the paint cans in the corner instead of Conn.

  “Then why did he give it to you?”

  John stared at his hands in his lap. He was rubbing one thumb over the other. “He didn’t.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Well, he did. I got all of his things.”

  Conn held the guitar out. “I don’t want to take his things, John.”

  John gave him an assessing look. “Why? No one else is using it, or will, if you don’t. I figure it’s better if you play it than give it to some stranger.”

  Conn couldn’t fight that logic. “Did he play well?”

  John snorted. “Not at all. It was the one thing he tried that he couldn’t do well. And he really tried. It pissed him off no end.”

  Conn nodded. “All right, then. Thanks.”

  John got up. “I’m going to go shower. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  He walked off before Conn could kiss him good morning.

  “Jesus H. Fucking Christ, this place is Mayberry Hell.”

  John spun around at the feminine voice dripping with disgust coming through the back screen door. The refrigerator door bounced open hard behind him, rattling the bottles within. “Kristine!”

  Steve’s younger sister opened the door and glared at him. “Why is your door unlocked? Are you crazy? Anyone could come in here!”

  John was so discombobulated by her arrival he couldn’t process what she meant. Then he laughed. “I’ve been in Mercury so long I forgot what it’s like to live in LA.”

  Kristine walked over and gave him a big hug. He hugged her back. She’d been a good friend over the years. There were times, when Steve was overseas, that John had felt closer to Kristine than Steve. She had on LA casual: skintight jeans, mile-high heels, and a tiny designer T-shirt. She carried a suitcase that was masquerading as a purse, and it banged into John’s side when she hugged him. />
  “Come on,” she said. She pulled back and grabbed his shoulders with both hands, looking him sternly in the eye. “Go pack. Enough is enough. No human being can survive here for long. I have scientific proof.”

  John laughed. “I’m doing more than surviving. I like it here.” He was shocked at the admission. He did like it in Mercury. What had once been an exile was now a refuge. He frowned. Was it because of Conn? Or because of this house and the people he’d met? Or both?

  “You don’t look like it,” Kristine said flatly. She looked around the kitchen. “Haven’t had time to decorate yet, I see.”

  John sighed. “Actually, I have. This is all my stuff. My new stuff.”

  “Are you shitting me?” Kristine exclaimed in horror. “You’re worse off than I thought.”

  Suddenly the shower went off upstairs. It had been going unnoticed in the background when Kristine came in, so its cessation was noticeable.

  Kristine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What was that?”

  Before John could answer, he heard Connor strumming the guitar. It didn’t sound so good. He winced as Kristine’s look turned to anger.

  “Who the hell is upstairs?”

  He heard Connor’s footsteps on the stairs. “Connor!” he called out, still watching Kristine. “We have a visitor.”

  The footsteps stopped and then went back upstairs. John didn’t say anything, and Kristine just glared at him. A few moments later he heard Connor coming back down. Briefly he wondered what he’d had to go back upstairs for. More clothes?

  Connor came into the kitchen smiling and then stopped abruptly at the sight of Kristine. He was wearing his old faded red T-shirt and his camo shorts. His hair was still wet from the shower, and John nearly groaned out loud when he saw a hickey peeking out above the crew neck of his shirt. He didn’t wait for Connor to ask. He figured he’d get the introductions out of the way.