Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair

  I gave her a dollar when we got to Room 202. Kevin and I watched the two of them race down the hallway, their footsteps pounding boom boom boom and actually making the floor vibrate. The noise was surely enough to annoy whoever had rented the rooms below them on the first floor. Then the kids disappeared as they turned into the stairwell, and Kevin and I were left alone, holding the keycards.

  “Your place or mine?” Kevin asked quietly.

  “Mine,” I said. It was further away from the front.

  He tossed his case forward and it hit my door with a soft thud. He took a step closer so that his chest almost grazed my right arm, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face. His eyes were glittering, desire in them that matched what was sizzling in my belly. Suddenly nothing was funny anymore. This was it, sex at last, Kevin and me together at last. A shiver traveled down to my fingers.

  “What are we waiting for?” he whispered.

  “Nothing,” I said out loud, and I shoved the card in the slot. I grabbed his elbow with one hand, turned the door handle with the other, and pushed both our bags forward with my feet.

  The inside of a motel room was familiar territory, safe territory. As I dragged him into the room, the peculiar smell of carpets and bedding cleaned and cleaned again but never truly fresh was overlaid now with the remembered smells of sex: a man’s hot load and the musky, deep odor that wafted from behind his balls. The room was dark, silent but for the sudden clang as the door shut, but then behind me Kevin must have reached around and flipped on the bathroom light. A muted glow filled the room beyond where I saw the expanse of a bed, inviting.

  I turned to him deliberately. I could touch. There wasn’t any reason to delay, to dissemble, to pretend to do something else like unpack or channel surf. Months of forcing myself to wait in my little house, with no Good Times, with lots of self-control, months of not having but needing were finally gone.

  I took his face in my hands, the shock of first touch racing through me, along with the shock of touching him only there when my whole body yearned to be stretched out against him, our hips together, our cocks side by side, our legs tangled, our chests pressed close, our mouths pressed close. Need rose like a desperate animal. Here was another man with me, cock and balls and ass for me, and he hadn’t been desperately picked up, and he wasn’t unknown. He was here because he wanted to be with me. What I used to fear, now I abruptly valued.

  His dark slash of eyebrows, the strong nose, the high forehead: I saw more clearly as I adjusted to the low level of light. I felt the bristle of his beard against my palms and moved my hands up, down, up, rubbing to know it better.

  “Hi,” I said, needing to say something, not knowing what else to say. My voice sounded flat, as if it didn’t travel far. But it didn’t need to.

  “Hi there, Thomas Ibsen Smith,” he said, his words enriched by a slow Kevin-smile, what I had barely seen the ghost of in Houston.

  He’d heard me say my middle name and remembered it. What cosmic circumstances had shifted so that I’d met Kevin? He was so much more than a random mouth picked to suck my dick.

  “You like to kiss,” I said. Let me give that to you.

  Delicately, the way we’d done hours before in his house, with our lower bodies not even touching, our lips met in the quiet dark, though the sound of our mouths sliding together sent a lustful chill through me immediately. I opened my mouth and sucked in his tongue, and every thought in my head went whirling away at the wet, solid connection. He moaned and slammed against me, his arms wrapping around my back with fingers spread to keep us tight together. His tongue danced inside my mouth, touching here, there. My erection lengthened; I could feel it as if I held it in my hand, inevitable response to Kevin-here, sex-soon, this change in me so right that it swept away everything else. Kevin pulled back to breathe and then came to me again, mouth seeking. His hardness, too, was seeking, up against me.

  “I like to kiss,” he said quietly, licking his lips and then opening them along the line of my jaw. “But I like to screw more. I’ve been waiting all day for you.”

  I closed my eyes as something inside me shuddered and abruptly realigned. I’d been waiting… longer. Much longer.

  “For God’s sake,” Kevin said, “let’s go to bed.”

  Separation seemed impossible. I was so thirsty for the press of him, the touch even through clothes, but the promise of naked skin against my own naked skin was inducement to push him away. I stumbled over one of the bags at our feet and went staggering across the room, catching myself by leaning with both hands on the mattress at the foot of the bed.

  Immediately, Kevin was behind me, grabbing my hips and pushing his cock against my willing ass. He rubbed along the line of my crack. Even through the layers of cloth, his cock was blissful iron against me.

  I collapsed down onto my elbows, adjusted right away so most of my weight was tilted to the right, bent my knees to maximize our contact, and squeezed my eyes shut. Yes. Yes. My cock throbbed, and I squirmed against him, trying to feel more, more.

  Air whistled in and out of his open mouth as he humped me. “I want to ride you, Tom. I’ve barely thought of anything else.”

  My head lolled low, my forehead brushed against the bedspread, and every molecule of me wished we were doing it right then, right there.

  “Will you let me? Even though I know it wasn’t easy for you before, you liked it by the end, didn’t you? Let me. I was gonna wait, ask you later, but I can’t, I can’t, I—”

  I twisted so I fell onto the bed on my back, my fingers hastily unbuckling and unzipping, trying to kick off my shoes with my toes at the same time. He made a sound—exultation, a sudden cry of gladness—and raced back toward his overnighter, dragging it clumsily to the bed as he tried to unbutton himself at the same time.

  I pulled off my briefs seconds before he was done, exposing myself completely, with my cock looming up tall and starving. I tried to push up on my elbows, but right away I collapsed back down. “Damn it!” I said, and then instead I wriggled higher up on the mattress. Then I reached down to grab myself and pulled.

  “You are so hot,” Kevin panted. “And you don’t even know it. Do that again.”

  Kevin stood at the foot of the bed and threw his balled-up shirt across the room to the curtained window. I heaved in breath to see him bare at last, first new-sight of the sturdy cock that had ruled me so thoroughly months before, stretched me with its insistent thickness. I thought of all the regrets I’d poured down with my beers this summer and the fantasies I’d had of him. The memories I’d had of him. He’d never appeared before me like this, though, with his dick at full mast and his hips cocked forward. I stroked my cock again, not because he’d told me to do it, but because I couldn’t help but touch myself.

  “You do it!” I said.

  In a blink he was pumping himself furiously, jacking himself as if he were right on the edge, but then he abruptly let himself go and spread his arms wide.

  His chest heaved. “Now you. Do it!”

  My hand was jerking before he finished saying it, and my hips rose with the first stroke, the second, the third—

  “Don’t you dare bust your nuts yet,” Kevin said, and he grabbed hold of my right foot. “Wait for me.”

  If he hadn’t stopped me, it would have been so easy to keep going and unload everything. But I forced myself to grab my thigh instead of my prick and stared down at him. Kevin waited until he had my attention, and then he leaned over and sucked my big toe into his mouth.

  My head dropped back to the pillow. “Oh, Christ,” I groaned, and I threw my hand across my eyes and fought for air. His tongue swirled around the nail, the tip, and then down and up. I’d never had anybody…. What an incredible sensation, where I’d never even thought….

  “Do you like this?”

  “Hell, yes. You pervert,” I forced out.

  He grinned at me up the length of my stretched-out, at-his-mercy body. “Every chance I get.”

  He licked
again, and then the cool air drifted over my unbearably sensitized toe, and he crouched over my ankle, suck-kissing it as if it were something he really wanted to do. From the sounds he made, he did. His thumb rubbed along the sole of my foot, just this side of tickling, just firmly enough not to send me jackknifing forward, but more than enough to send air rushing jaggedly through my mouth.

  “K… K… Kevin!”

  I could have tackled him. I could have rolled him over and gone after his dick, filled my mouth with it. I could have shoved him down to the bed and jumped on top of him so we could hump our way to completion. But I didn’t do any of those things, things I was accustomed to doing when I controlled the pace and mood and intensity of my sexual encounters with nameless men.

  I’d decided to ride shotgun with Kevin, hadn’t I? Not drive.

  “Watch.” Kevin pushed my legs together and said, “Like a mummy.” Then he got onto the bed and licked a long wet line up from my ankle to my left knee, with his hands and legs planted on either side of me. And then he went to work on my knees, licking his way in circles around each one.

  His mouth busy, he mumbled, “You taste fantastic.”

  I was jelly. I couldn’t stay still. Within the limits of not knocking him over, within the space he’d defined for me, I thrashed on the bed. If he didn’t grab me where it counted soon, if he didn’t give me what I needed, I began to think I was going to shoot right then and there without even being touched.

  “Kevin,” I gasped. “Come here, come here.”

  “No,” he said, but he moved a supporting arm up next to my side and leaned his weight on it. His other hand reached for his own cock. “This. Hold yourself up like this. Let’s….”

  The tip of his cock touched mine when I held myself steady, like his was kissing mine. It was the most maddening sexual experience I’d ever had because everything in me was screaming for pressure, for more contact, for the hot encasement of a hand, a mouth, between his thighs, his ass, anything, but what I got instead was this slow-motion touch guaranteed to drive any gay man insane. Kevin was torturing me.

  And pleasuring me and himself. I pounded the mattress with my free hand and heaved up, running the side of my cock against his, trying to jab myself into his pubes.

  “I’m not kidding,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. “Fuck me right now or—”

  Air rushed out of my lungs as he abruptly dropped his entire sweat-tacky length down on me. “Right now,” he promised, and then he was up and off the bed, battling the zipper of his overnight case, pulling out the lube and a strip of rubbers.

  Finally released, I sat up and grabbed the Trojans from him. “Come here. I’ll take care of this.”

  Holding the base of his cock, he turned to stand in front of me as I sat on the side of the bed. I tore one packet off and tossed the rest to the floor, and in a second I had that one out and in my hand. I looked up at him, at his needy face. I’d thought Kevin was a handsome man the first night I’d seen him dancing in Houston, but Kevin in a civilized setting was nothing compared to Kevin stripped, with a hard-on, his nostrils flaring, his chest rising and falling noticeably, presenting his weeping cock to me.

  I’d been thinking about sucking him since he’d opened his door to me, and I couldn’t resist now. He cried out when my lips went over the head of his dick, over the yielding crown that stretched my mouth, over the jutting ridge, and then below, to where he should be sensitive, where Kevin should love having me suck. I could taste him, salty and hot already, and then his fingers were in my hair, holding me where I was. But I wanted to be there. I pushed against his hip, and he stepped back while I slid forward onto my knees. We did not separate. I did not allow my teeth to nick him or my tongue to stop moving against him, but I stuffed my mouth with him and took him all in.

  Had I sucked him when we were in Houston? There was no body-memory of his dick in my mouth because that had been a different, resistant Tom who’d had sex with this different, known Kevin. As if from another world, the thumping beat of music came to me: not the dance-floor tunes that had engulfed me, shaken me, whirled me around, and then deposited me in front of Kevin Bannerman, but some unfamiliar, persistent song that the Indian family must be playing on the floor below.

  One of his hands slid down to my ear, but the other came to my lips and slipped a finger inside as I went down on him again, so I held his cock and his finger in my mouth together. It broke my suction and my concentration, and I pulled back reluctantly, gulping air, feeling the stretch at the corners of my mouth.

  With hands under my arms, he urged me to stand in front of him. Moments of awkwardness passed as we did not touch, though our naked bodies were scant inches from each other. As I swayed toward him, he brought a finger up to trace a line down the side of my face. I turned and caught it with my teeth, nipped at him, kissed his knuckle.

  He lifted his face to the dark ceiling and offered a long sigh. It was as if his spirit were spreading upward, filling the room, imposing stillness and an odd kind of calm I hadn’t lived with for a long time. And then he looked back to me.

  “Put the glove on me, Tom.”

  I’d never rolled a Trojan on anybody but myself, and so I looked down while I did it. My own dick jerked as if I were touching it. I couldn’t help but wrap my fingers around him once I had him sheathed; the hot pulsing of blood in his prick, trapped and defined by the latex, made my blood pulse too.

  His fingertips landed gently on the back of my hand, keeping me there. “Wait,” he whispered. “I need….”

  He raised his face to mine and sought my lips, and I offered them to him, everything between us reduced down to this, our mouths connecting and our fingers joined on his cock.

  I discovered that I needed this simple union too, just as much as the wild, fulfilling sex I knew we were about to share. I ached for it, reached for it, and then….

  What I had been looking for back at his house, the elusive anchor not of the body. Suddenly it was there, flicking through my awareness in rich, startling seconds of Kevin and Tom, banker and teacher, the seeker and the cautious one, and, yes, the top and the bottom too. We exchanged ourselves back and forth, and I was breathless. So much in just a kiss. I took him in through his breath brushing against my skin, through his unmistakable taste, through the rasp of his hand on the back of my neck.

  We parted slowly, our lips clinging through our mingled spit, our gazes locked as we expanded this moment another second, and another.

  He didn’t resist when I moved my hand to the base of his cock. His hand moved with mine, and then I stroked the circle of my fingers from the base of him to the tip. I watched the pleasure bloom in his eyes as we did that, us together.

  “You,” he said. “Right now. You.”

  Kevin forced me back until I was up against the bed, and down I went, with Kevin over me, pushing me this way and that until my head was on a pillow.

  “Up,” he said, reaching under my knees and pulling, and only as I bent my knees to my chest did I realize he had the lube.

  Before, he’d simply rubbed the lube around my hole and shoved inside, the way the very few men I’d done this with had. Including Sean, in his heated, careless need. With Kevin in Houston, I’d suffered through the sharp stabbing pain that always accompanied the first minutes any cock was in me, my body’s revenge for craving it so much. I was ready for that now, to give us both what we wanted. But this time was different. I felt his finger outside, daubing the slickness around my traitorous ring of muscle… and he didn’t immediately move away. He lingered, massaging, playing there, and I shifted against the bed. A new and subtle form of heat, one I hadn’t felt before, unfolded from where his fingertip was moving. It spread. It felt….

  I lifted my head, an effort while holding my knees up. “What’re you doing? That feels—”

  “Shhhh,” he said, and his other hand rested on my ankle. “It wasn’t easy for you last time. I thought if I took my time getting you ready, it would help. Is i
t helping?”

  I didn’t know what to say. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  He pressed a fervent kiss on my asscheek. “Lay back and enjoy. Feel good.”

  I let my head fall back against the pillow and closed my eyes. The seconds ticked away. Kevin tongued all over my ass but his finger never left my hole as he skimmed it, stretched it, slipped barely inside, withdrew, applied more lube, as I lay there and listened to his heavy breathing, as I allowed the sure touch of him on me. I felt the difference not only where his finger was, in my discovery of how that could tingle, could shoot to my cock and make it harder, but in the quality of the night: Kevin taking his time.

  Or trying to. “Damn,” he whispered on the hitch of quick breath. “I don’t know if I can…. Time to move on.”

  His finger found my center. Pushed in. Went all the way in with its load of slick gel, and I pushed my head back against the pillow. It felt… excruciating. Violating. Wonderful. In my sexual encounters, so carefully managed—just so much and not more, unless it’s you, Kevin Bannerman—I’d never had a man’s finger up my back alley. The few times I’d let myself be fucked, I’d never trusted enough to ask for it, and so I’d never received.

  “Okay?”

  His wide eyes stared down at me. This was what having sex with someone you knew led to: his finger reaching ever higher into me. I didn’t know how to stop that. I didn’t want to stop that. Then there were two fingers stretching me, or maybe more—I didn’t know in this delirium of exposure. I arched back against the pillow, loving it.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “I want you to feel good.” Kevin’s husky voice fell over me like a blanket, covering both of us and separating us from the whole rest of the world. “You are so…. You look so good. Is this okay?”

  I felt drugged, like the two of us’d had a toke, or maybe that my asshole had. “Okay?” I half-laughed. “Oh, God, yes.”

  Kevin pulled his fingers out, wiped them on the bedspread, and then knee-walked until he was between my spread legs. I lifted them higher and straightened them so the inside of my calves rested against the outside points of his shoulders. They seemed to fit naturally in that position. He leaned forward, planting his palms flat on the bed so his arms rested within the crooks of my knees, and that exerted pressure on my legs, helping to hold them up. My pelvis inched up as he rocked forward, and suddenly there it was, his cock pressing against where it belonged.