Accidentally On Purpose

by J. M. Snyder

  “Stop.” Alan manages to catch Jim’s hands before they delve into the front of his trousers. His heart hammers wildly, his blood racing with lust, his dick already beginning to stiffen in anticipation.

  Jim kisses his jaw, then his chin. “What’s wrong? You said we’re alone.”

  “We are.” Alan breathes, deep and slow, deliberately trying to calm his racing pulse. After a long moment, he raises Jim’s hands to his lips and kisses his lover’s knuckles. “After dinner, what do you say?”

  Slipping free, Jim returns to fiddling with Alan’s zipper. “I say now.”

  “I say no.”

  But Alan can’t deny the tiny thrill that shoots through him, though he doesn’t know if it’s from standing his ground or from the commanding tone of Jim’s voice. He suspects it might be a little of both.

  Jim tugs at the waistband of Alan’s trousers and pouts. “Now.”

  Alan covers Jim’s hands with his and says gently, “You know if we do this now, I won’t be any good later.”

  “Then I’ll just have to stay as long as it takes for you to get it back up.”

  Jim stares at him, openly, blatantly, waiting for another argument so he can shoot that one down, too. They’ve been together long enough that Alan knows how this will end. And hell, who’s he kidding? Jim turns him on so badly, just being near the man is enough to get him hard…and keep him hard. Despite his protest, Alan doubts he’ll have any trouble getting it up again later for the man he’s come to love.

  Still, Alan says, “Not here.

  Jim’s eyes light up; he’s fully aware he’s won this round. He steps back, tugging at Alan’s trousers. “Bedroom?”

  Alan pushes away from the door. “I’m pretty sure you know the way by now.”

  That earns him another pout, and another tug. “Show me anyway.”

  “Let me turn down the roast first,” Alan says. “I’ll be right there.”

  When Jim heads for the stairs, Alan snaps his arse with the tea towel. Jim slaps it away. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  “I won’t.” Alan manages to steal a kiss before Jim heads upstairs.

  In the kitchen, he turns down the oven temperature so the roast won’t overcook. The potatoes are in the pan with the roast, and the bottom of the pan is covered in Brussels sprouts, neither of which he wants to burn just because his attention is diverted elsewhere. On the stove a pot of brown gravy waits to be heated, but the burner is off so he doesn’t need to worry about it yet.

  He takes a last look around, making sure everything’s set to run without him until he comes back down. Then he folds the tea towel over the edge of the sink and heads for the stairs.

  He’s halfway up when he sees something on the landing above him. A few more steps and he realizes it’s Jim’s yellow cardigan, stripped off and tossed aside.

  A slow grin spreads across his face. Alan can see where this is headed.

  “Jim?” he drawls.

  No response.

  Another couple of steps and Alan sees more clothing strewn out beyond the cardigan. He chuckles as he clears the top step. It looks like everything Jim had on is now on the floor. One arm of the cardigan is inside out. The T-shirt he wore under it is now a crumpled wad of fabric. A battered loafer has been kicked against the railing; its mate rests upside down in front of the closed door to Brooks’ room.

  Alan gathers up the clothes as he comes to them—cardigan, T-shirt, the corduroys with legs splayed in either direction like a gymnast doing the splits. He tucks everything into the crook of his arm as he goes. The shoes he gathers together and leaves neatly placed outside the bathroom door. Then he scoops up a pair of balled up socks and, last, a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs.

  These last he holds out in front of him, a finger hooked into either side of the waistband. With his foot, he nudges open the partially-shut door to his bedroom and holds up the briefs as he enters.

  “What happened to your tighty-whities?” Alan asks.

  Jim is on the bed, lying back and propped up on his elbows so the toned length of his nude body stretches out like an invitation. His hard cock juts up from the dark hair curled at his crotch, and Alan’s gaze is drawn to it like a magnet. It takes real effort to stop staring at it and look Jim in the face instead.

  When he does, he sees Jim’s smug grin. “Like them?” Jim asks. “I thought you might.”

  “They’re sexy,” Alan concedes. Then he snaps the waistband and they shoot away, across the room, where they hit Jim on the knee. “Wish I had got to see them on you before you took them off.”

  “I’ll put them back on for you later.” Jim kicks them away. “Come over here.”

  Alan will, soon enough, but he wants to draw out the moment—and besides, who decided Jim gets to call all the shots tonight, anyway? Somehow he manages to tear his gaze away from his lover, from those sparkling eyes and that thick dick, and turns to fold Jim’s clothes into a chair by the dresser.

  Even when he isn’t looking, he can feel Jim watching. There’s something about the man, some kind of animal magnetism, a growling sexiness Alan wants to catch and hold tight.

  I will, don’t worry.

  But at the moment he takes his time, smoothing out each article of clothing before folding it carefully into the chair. Shaking out the T-shirt, picking faint balls of lint off the cardigan, brushing the nap on the corduroy pants first one way, then the other. Behind him Jim growls with frustrated need, and it’s all Alan can do not to toss everything aside and rush over there, scoop his lover in his arms, and never let go.

  Instead he focuses on the fabric, folding it, pressing it with his hands. All of Jim’s clothing sitting neatly on the chair, as if it just came out of the wash. The socks, too—he flattens them together and tucks in the cuffs. But the briefs…

  Alan throws a sideways glance at the bed. The black briefs are puddled on the floor at the end of the bed, right by Jim’s feet. Can Alan snag them without being tempted to run a hand up Jim’s leg? To feel the dark hair poof up under his touch? To smooth it down again, or lean in between Jim’s knees and breathe deep his heady musk? Or kiss his way up the inside of Jim’s thigh, angling for the sweet tenderness he knows hides at his lover’s core?

  His cock aches at the thought. Then Alan looks at Jim, and the smirk lingering on Jim’s face says he knows exactly what’s going through Alan’s mind…and what’s filling the front of his trousers, too.

  Why deny it? Why even try to fight it?

  Shaking the hair from his eyes, Jim says, “Whenever you’re done playing with my clothes, you might want to remember there’s a naked man in your bed waiting for you.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware.”

  “Really? Could’ve fooled me.” Jim sounds amused. “You might want to come over here eventually and do something about it.”

  Alan laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, mate.”

  Their playful banter only turns him on more, as does the wounded look on Jim’s face. Alan takes his time, sauntering over, staring boldly at Jim as he approaches the bed. He doesn’t drop his gaze when he reaches his lover and leans down, inches away. Jim’s whole body tenses; Alan’s close enough to see the muscles in his thighs and stomach and dick quiver with anticipation.

  When he reaches the bed, Alan brushes a hand up Jim’s thigh. The hair puffs under his touch just as Alan knew it would, and Jim practically shivers in delight. Alan leans down, a slow smile spreading across his face that Jim mirrors. “I like where this is going,” Jim murmurs.

  “Do you?” Alan leans in further, mouth angling for Jim’s cock, and Jim’s smile widens.

  Suddenly Alan reverses direction, his hand now rubbing down Jim’s leg as he ducks out of sight to pluck the black briefs off the floor. Then he stands, holding the underwear aloft like a coveted prize. As Jim watches in disbelief, Alan folds the briefs in half, and then in half again. “There.”

  “You came over here just for that?” Jim cries.

  “That
, yes.” With an underhand throw, Alan tosses the briefs onto the chair with the rest of Jim’s clothing. Then he swoops down onto the bed, onto Jim, his body a breath above his lover’s. With a knee on either side of Jim, Alan encircles Jim’s cock with one hand and gives it a healthy squeeze, eliciting a gasp as Jim thrusts his hips. Alan leans in, closer still, and Jim catches his breath in anticipation.

  Against Jim’s cheek, Alan murmurs, “And this.”

  Finally, finally, his lips close over Jim’s. It feels like forever since he’s had this man in his arms, even though it hasn’t been too long ago since he invited Jim in. But all playfulness aside, Alan wants him, needs him.

  Now.

  Hungrily he pushes Jim to the bed. Jim falls back onto the mattress, hands running up Alan’s sides, then fisting in the bunched fabric of Alan’s shirt. But when Alan tries to slip his tongue between Jim’s lips, Jim turns away.

  Tugging at Alan’s clothes, Jim jokes, “One of us is seriously overdressed here.”

  With his hands flat on the bed on either side of Jim’s shoulders, Alan pushes himself up and takes a long, lingering look down the gloriously naked length of his lover’s body beneath him. “You look fine to me.”

  That earns him another tug. His shirt pulls taut across his shoulders, straining at the seams. “I’m talking about this,” Jim says, as if he needs to clarify. “Take it off. Take it all off.”

  Alan sits back, his arse now in Jim’s lap, and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Yes, sir, officer, sir.”

  Grabbing his shirttails, Jim tries to pull the shirt open, with little success. The buttons hold and he only manages to rumple Alan’s shirt. “Faster, pussycat.”

  “You’re pretty demanding for a naked guy flat on his back,” Alan points out. He slows down just to be contrary, deliberately moving from one button to the next, enjoying the frustration that flickers across Jim’s face.

  “And you’re pretty slow for a guy with all this in his pants.” Jim grabs Alan’s crotch for emphasis, where a growing erection strains the fabric. “Come on, babe. Sometime before dinner would be nice.”

  “Oh, it’ll be before dinner,” Alan assures him. “As long as I’m up here, nothing’s getting served down there.”

  “Nothing’s getting served up here, either.” Jim rubs Alan’s hard dick through his trousers. “God, please. Sometime tonight.”

  Leaning over him again, Alan kisses his nose. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

  “Alan!”

  His name is a plea, one that goads him into action. Abandoning the rest of the buttons, Alan pulls the shirt off over his head and tosses it to the floor. His undershirt follows suit. Then he swats Jim’s hand away from his crotch and slips back off the bed with a fluid grace he’d never be able to replicate if he tried. He kicks off his slippers as he unzips his trousers, a pair of light tan khakis he removes with care. Turning away from the bed, he gently folds the khakis and sets them on the chair with Jim’s clothing.

  Jim calls out his name in a singsong voice. “Aaaall-llaaaan. Come fuck me, Aaall-llaan.”

  “My lover, the romantic,” Alan teases. With his back to Jim, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs—which are a boring, everyday shade of white, not sexy black like Jim’s—and leans over to step out of them.

  That earns him a ragged wolf whistle. “Damn, you’re fine.”

  Alan smirks over one shoulder. “For a man my age, you mean?”

  “For a man any age,” Jim clarifies. “Now get over here before I tackle you to the floor and we both get hurt.”

  Slowly, carefully, Alan folds his briefs, really taking his time. His cock throbs with need, though, standing up at a hard angle, eager to get this show on the road. “You know I love you, Jim, but I’m not getting rug burn on my knees again.”

  “If you love me,” Jim counters, “come over here and show me how much.”

  To punctuate his words, he pegs something small and plastic at Alan’s back. It strikes Alan between the shoulder blades and bounces to the floor behind him.

  It’s a half-empty bottle of Astroglide silicone-based lubricant. Alan turns as he bends to pick it up. “I like a man who comes prepared.”

  From the bed, Jim sticks out his tongue to reveal a gold, coin-shaped condom package on the tip.

  “Prepared and talented,” Alan jokes. “I like where this is headed.”

  Jim spits out the condom and gives Alan a smoldering stare. But before Alan can move in closer, Jim takes a deep breath and hollers at the top of his lungs, “Come fuck me!”

  Alan winces, even though no one else is in the house to hear. “Jesus, hush.” When Jim draws in another big breath, Alan hurries to the side of the bed and slaps his thigh. “Stop yelling. I’m right here. Are you trying to put me in hospital or something?”

  A slow smile spreads across Jim’s handsome face. “I’m trying to get a little loving here. I mean, jeez. What do I have to do to get your attention on me where it belongs?”

  As if answering his own question, he opens his legs invitingly.

  Alan steps between Jim’s legs. “Finally,” Jim mutters, crossing his ankles behind Alan’s knees. “Now I’ve got you right where I want you.”

  Amused, Alan runs a hand up the inside of Jim’s thigh, over ticklish skin that trembles beneath his palm. Then his fingertips brush through thick hair, strumming across Jim’s balls before closing over them.

  Jim gasps in delight. “Please,” he whimpers.

  “Not so loud now, are you?” Alan massages the nut sack in his hand, then grips the base of Jim’s dick and gives it a gentle squeeze.

  “I can be loud if you like.” But Jim’s voice cracks as his hips thrust up off the bed, pushing more of himself into Alan’s hand. “Please,” he says again, as Alan strokes up his stiff cock. “Please, God, Alan, please. Don’t make me beg.”

  “You mean this isn’t begging?” Alan closes his hand around the bulbous head of Jim’s dick, enjoying the hot trickle of pre-cum weeping from the tip. “Tell me you want me.”

  Jim’s words are barely a whisper. “You know I do.”

  “Tell me—”

  “Please. Now.”

  Alan smirks. He’s enjoying this too much. Kneading Jim’s cockhead, he asks, “Please now what?”

  “Please,” Jim cries. “Fuckmenowplease.” All one word, breathless, needy.

  Alan’s hand slides back down Jim’s dick. “Well, since you asked so nicely…I mean, you said please and everything…”

  “Alan! Now! Please!” Jim arches his back, thrusting into Alan’s hand.

  With his teeth, Alan pops up the cap on the bottle of lube. For the briefest moment he releases Jim to squirt a healthy dollop into his palm. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Jim bites his lower. “What—”

  Then Alan runs one lube-slicked finger down the length of Jim’s cock, over his balls, down, before easing it into Jim’s puckered hole.

  Jim hisses at the touch. “Oh God, oh yes, oh Alan—”

  “You know,” Alan says conversationally as another finger rims Jim’s arse, widening him, “before we started going out, when I just knew you as Detective Garrison? I would’ve never expected you’d be so damn vocal in bed.”

  With a breathy laugh, Jim asks, “Is that a problem?”

  “Not when we’re alone.” Alan rubs his lubed thumb across the underside of Jim’s balls as his fingers open up his lover. “But if Brooks were here—”

  “Oh, fuckmefuckmefuckme,” Jim gasps. “Pleasepleaseplease now.”

  “Listen to you! So demanding.” Alan shakes his head, but he’s pleased he can reduce Jim to this, a man hungry for his touch, reveling in it, relishing it.

  Who’s he kidding? He wants Jim just as much.

  Slipping his fingers free, Alan quickly opens the condom packet and rolls on the rubber. He follows it with more lube, slathering his hard cock liberally. Then he grabs both of Jim’s legs behind the knees and pulls his lover closer, positioning him j
ust right.

  Jim unlocks his ankles from behind Alan and instead puts his feet up on the mattress, then opens his legs wider.

  Alan guides his dick to Jim’s tight hole, sliding in with familiar ease. He lifts Jim’s legs to his waist and shoves in as far as he can go. Then he lies down atop Jim again, taking his lover in his arms, kissing Jim’s throat and mouth and cheeks, anywhere his lips touch.

  With a grunt, Jim runs his hands through the swirl of hair covering Alan’s chest. “Yes,” he moans as they find a slow, steady rhythm, their bodies moving together like two cogs connecting in a perfectly oiled machine.

  “Yes,” again, when his fingers find Alan’s nipples and tweak and pluck them erect, sending delightful shivers down Alan’s back.

  “Yes,” this one muffled when Alan kisses him quiet. Jim raises his hips off the bed and wraps his arms and legs around Alan, holding him close as they bring each other towards release.

  And then, finally, “Yes, yes, God yesyesyes!” when he climaxes, his dick tight between them, his seed hot on Alan’s belly. A moment later Alan comes, too, pushing deep into Jim as his orgasm shudders through him.

  As the moment passes and their hearts slow, their breathing steadies, and their pulses return to normal, Alan stays where he is, lodged fully inside Jim. He kisses away the sweat beaded above Jim’s upper lip and across Jim’s brow. He presses his cheek to Jim’s as they clutch each other fast, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

  In his ear, Jim murmurs, “Well, that was fun.”

  Alan snickers. “I know for a fact there’s no way I’ll be able to do that again tonight.”

  “Tomorrow, then,” Jim says, kissing the corner of Alan’s mouth. “And the next day, and every day after. I love you, have I told you that?”

  “If you did, I can stand hearing it again.” Alan catches Jim’s next kiss on his lips. “I love you, too. And I’d really love to stay and cuddle but…”

  Jim frowns. “But what?”

  “But I have a roast in the oven,” Alan reminds him.