by BA Tortuga
Galen sucked him strong and deep, fingers moving on his chest, back and forth and in between. That soft beard brushed his balls, Galen’s lips meeting his curls. Soft cries left him, and he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop begging, stop moving.
Relentless, Galen kept at him, sucking, licking, nipping at his belly before pushing down again, and all the while his nipples were pinched and pulled and that chain was twisted so, so gently. Galen growled around him, the sound working up his spine, mouth pulling, demanding. His entire body went taut, and he groaned, orgasm pushing through him, huge, too big to hold back. Galen took it all, sucking and licking until he stopped shaking, then surged up to cover him, hot prick rubbing his belly.
He reached up, holding on, blinking. “So fucking sweet, Len.”
“Good, darlin’.” Galen was so damned hot against him, so hard, and it took all of maybe five seconds for Galen to grunt and growl, wet heat splashing on his belly and chest as Galen came.
He took a kiss, tongue pressing deep, tasting all through Len’s aftershocks. Tasting himself.
Galen rested on him, breathing hard, kissing his mouth with short little nips. “God, Shane.”
“Len. Love. I.” He grinned, squeezed out of words.
“Mm-hmm. Did I say Merry Christmas?”
“Once. You can say it again.”
“Well, then, Merry Christmas, darlin’. I love you.” Galen grinned and kissed him gently, tongue touching his swollen lower lip.
“Mmm…. Love you, Len. So glad we’re a… we, yeah?”
“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Galen curled around him, pulling the blanket around them. “I haven’t been so happy to wake up on Christmas morning since I was five.”
“Did you get a football or a bike?”
He got a snort that tickled his neck. “A football. But that was the year I learned there wasn’t really a Santa Claus.”
“Oh, man! That bites. I was… lots older.” Like eleven, and he was still sorta pissed about finding out.
“It was an accident.” Galen grinned. “I couldn’t sleep and caught Momma putting the presents out. So it was my own fault.”
“Oh, you were curious. I bet you shake your packages.”
“Yes.” Damn, he would swear Galen was blushing. “And I always want people to open the ones from me first.”
“Well, you got it this Christmas.” He stroked the chain, shivered. “Next Christmas you’ll have to go first.”
“I’ll make a note of it, darlin’. Count on it.”
“I will.” He grinned, rubbed his cheek on Galen’s shoulder. Now he had to remember whether the fake fist was wrapped in green or red. He really wanted to save it for last.
THE FIRE was blazing, and supper was in the oven, heating up from being in the fridge. They’d gone down the snowy road into town to the grocery that morning and picked up a roast and vegetables, and some bread and a bottle of wine. Galen and Shane had both agreed they didn’t want to try to get back to the cabin after midnight anyway, and the only party in the tiny town in Vermont was at the Elks Lodge.
So they’d come back and played in the snow and napped, and now they were well on their way to midnight on New Year’s Eve. Galen had made it hot enough in the cabin that they could both wear nothing but their shorts, and he’d convinced Shane to wear the God-awful red-and-purple Hawaiian shirt Galen had given him for Christmas. And underneath it the chain Galen had gotten him.
“’Bout time to pop the pie in, Shane. So it’ll be ready after we eat.”
“I can do that.” Shane bebopped around, humming with the little radio, looking happy as anything. Galen was all about a happy Shane. Made his belly warm and put a smile on his face. Made him kinda forget where he was, in fact, and what he was doing. In favor of staring.
The pie was slid into the little oven, giving him a look at that pretty ass; then Shane stretched up, getting the champagne glasses. He made sure the glasses were on the counter before he goosed.
Oh, now, that was a great noise.
“You break it, you buy it, Mr. Frost.”
“Hey, I’ve already bought it, taken it home, and worn it so it’s just right.” He grinned, spinning Shane around for a kiss. He hadn’t smiled so much in possibly ever. Shit, his family saw him like this? They’d accuse him of mellowing.
“Mmm… you saying I’m nice and well-broken in now?” God, those eyes were shining, teasing, laughing as Shane snuggled right in, body pushing into his.
“I’m saying you’re a perfect fit, darlin’.” Galen nuzzled Shane’s neck, lips finding his spot and pressing against the lurid bruise there.
“Oh.” Shane shivered, fingers sliding into his hair, chin lifting. “Fuck, that tingles.”
“Yeah? How about this?” He reached between the buttons of Shane’s shirt and tugged that tiny gold chain firmly.
“Len!” Fuck, he could feel it, feel Shane’s cock go from interested to hard as putting socks on a rooster.
He bent Shane back against the little kitchenette counter, rubbing hard. “Got any idea how hot that is?”
“Hmmm?” Shane gasped, one leg lifting up, curling around his thigh. He laughed, sliding his hand down to curl under the waistband of Shane’s shorts. Yeah. Hot, smooth, already getting damp. That was just what he needed. Fuck or suck? That was the question.
“Want you.” Shane hopped up onto the counter, legs spreading and wrapping around his waist.
Well, there was his answer. “Yeah. Want you, lover. A little appetizer.” He stepped back, got Shane to lift up so he could take those shorts off. And that shrieking shirt. Fuck, that was the hottest thing going. “Now that’s better.”
“Mmm… the chain tugs, just a little, you know? But all the time….”
“Uh-huh. Keeps ’em warmed up for me.” Galen bent, took the chain between his lips, and tugged.
“Uh…. Oh….” Shane’s hips rocked, slid on the counter, the scent of need sharp and salty.
“Mmmm.” He could suck and fuck. Pushing Shane’s legs even wider, he bent to lick at the tip of Shane’s cock, tasting that need. God, that was the best. He’d known right off Shane would taste that way. Amazing.
“Len. Sweet fuck.” Shane’s thighs shuddered, shaking hard.
“Soon, darlin’. Soon.” He let his breath wash over Shane’s balls, nuzzled deep to get all of that scent. He wet his fingers good, slid two right into Shane’s open body, mouth sliding right down on Shane’s prick. Shane went tight, ass gripping his fingers, milking them, the low cry sweet and needy.
“Yeah. Oh, damn.” He spread Shane, opened him, got him good and ready for him. Shane rode him, never holding a bit back, just sliding and shifting.
That was all he could take. Galen stood up straight, wetting his palm and getting his own cock good and wet too, before pulling Shane to the edge of the counter. “Need you, Shane.”
Shane’s hands were hard on his shoulders, holding on tight. “Yours. Need it, Len.”
He moved, pushing against Shane’s ass, the head of his cock sliding in as he watched. God. That was…. Fuck. Galen started moving, hips rolling, shoving right in.
“Oh. Oh, sweet Christ. Yes, love. Yes.” Shane nodded, legs tugging him closer.
He gave more, working harder, sweat beginning to pop up on his skin, legs straining. That little gold chain swung, Shane’s nipples so hard for him, and Galen bent to catch one ring with his mouth. The reaction was unreal, those muscles tightening around him, working his cock, Shane’s cry echoing through the cabin.
“Oh, fuck, Shane!” Galen popped up, muscles acting like he’d been hit by lightning, and he was off and running, can’t slow down, gotta come now, just like that. His hips smacked Shane’s ass, hands pushing Shane so wide, reaching for Shane’s cock to get him as close as Galen was. Shane was hotter than a two-dollar whore on the Fourth of July, cock jerking in his fingers, spunk spraying hot and wet.
He lost it. Just lost it, cock pushing wildly into Shane’s body as he came, those mu
scles pulling it right out of him. He took a kiss, breathless, needy, and clumsy.
“H… happy fucking New Year, Len.” Shane’s head lolled, eyes dazed.
“Yeah, lover.” He was a little damned fuzzy himself, drained. “We still have to ring it in.”
“Uh-huh. Haven’t… haven’t not worked on New Year’s Eve since I was twenty.”
“Damn. And I haven’t stayed up to watch the ball drop in four years.” He patted, not even sure where his hands were, until the buzzer sounded on the roast. “Shit.”
“No. Food.” Those blue eyes shone. “No more champagne for you.”
“Funny man.” Galen slipped free reluctantly and hitched his shorts up to go and wash his hands before getting the roast out. “Oh. Damn, we did good. It needs to rest. Or so Momma said.”
“Rest?” Shane cleaned himself up and found his shorts, chain swinging. “Cooking tired it right on out, huh?”
“Yeah.” He shook his head, laughing. “Something about the juice distribution. I just listen to Momma and say uh-huh and do what she tells me.”
“Sounds pretty damned wise to me.” Shane got the salad from the fridge. “She’s a smart lady, your momma.”
“She is. She liked you right off. Never did like any of the other guys she met. When she came to visit me, I mean. Taking you home to see her will be a first.” There. Platter, vegetables. Plates. Rolls. “Wine?”
Shane was looking at him, looking a little stunned. “Really? Wow.” Then a smile sort of spread across Shane’s face. “That’s cool.”
That look? Deserved a kiss. Galen gave Shane one on the way by to get the wine. “At her request, no less.”
“Well, every family needs a bartender-type.”
“Someone to make vodkatinis at weddings and listen to Uncle Orren bitch about how no one makes decent Creole food no more.”
“Hey, you need a suds-slinger? I’m your man.”
Galen turned, looked Shane right in the eye. “You’re mine anyway, darlin’. Count on it.”
Shane went a sweet rosy pink, then nodded. “I do.”
“Good. That’s everything but the pie. And I set the dinger for that. Come on and let’s see if Momma taught me well enough over the phone to feed us.” He took the last of it to the table, rubbing hips with Shane, feeling damned fucking good in his bones.
They sat close, Shane’s leg slid behind his own, warm and close. Dinner was good, made even better because they did the whole sappy, sweet feeding each other thing, like a couple of lovesick kids. Galen loved it. Fuck, maybe he was a closet romantic or something. The roast? Perfect. Thank you, Momma.
Shane told story after story of New Year’s Eves at the club, of the celebrities and fights, the bands. “You know what’s funny, though? I never did the kiss at midnight thing.”
“Yeah?” Galen glanced at the clock. The pie dinged. They still had an hour and a half. “I never have either, darlin’.”
“No?” Shane smiled over. “Tonight you will.”
“Yeah.”
They had pie and whipped cream and did dishes and laughed, and damned if they almost didn’t miss it because they were laughing about Galen’s momma and the one New Year’s she’d had a date when Galen was little and how the babysitter had almost burned the house down smoking weed. Good thing Shane had set the dinger again. Handy thing, kitchen timers. They had enough time for Shane to pop the champagne.
Shane poured two glasses while he turned the radio up, listening to the chaos in Times Square as the time was counted down. “Almost time.”
“It is.” He held up his glass. “Love you, darlin’. I really do.”
Shane nodded. “You’re my one big thing, Len, my home.” He got a grin. “Kiss me so the New Year starts right.”
The count got to five, four, three, two, one, and Galen slipped an arm around Shane’s waist, pulling him close for a kiss. He put everything in it, every bit of what Shane meant to him, his surprise in finding him. His love.
Shane’s glass got set aside, his lover answering him with an equal need, a sweet, rich passion. God, he just loved that. Craved it. Galen kissed deep, tongue pushing in, moans coming out of him. Shane’s hands were in his hair, tugging him close, holding them together.
He started rubbing, hips moving in a slow circle, up and back. He ran his hands down Shane’s back to cup that sweet ass, loving on Shane with all he had. Sweet little cries filled his lips, Shane’s body following his, like they were dancing, like Shane could read him.
So damned responsive to his every move. Galen pushed, pulled, hands moving restlessly. He wanted to ring the New Year in right all the way around. One of Shane’s hands slid down, petted his nipple and belly, then worked around to cup his ass, pull him closer.
“Oh, damn. Shane. I… bed.” Fuck, he couldn’t even talk.
“Uh-huh. Bed. Need.” Shane nodded, biting at his lips.
He waltzed Shane right over to the bed, not even wondering where his champagne glass went. He must have set it down. They toppled right on that soft-as-clouds mattress, Galen rolling right over on Shane and kissing him wildly. Shane’s fingers scrabbled at his shorts, nails scratching, scraping.
Oh yeah. He lifted up, got rid of his shorts, Shane’s shorts and shirt. He growled. Skin. Yeah. Shane pushed back into him, their skin slapping together with a bright sound. Shane was hot and moving, teeth and hands and legs keeping them close, sending sparks through him.
He touched Shane everywhere he could reach, just feverish, hands moving, mouth searching. He went for all of the places that got neglected—the back of Shane’s neck, his armpits, the little dents above his hip bones.
Shane moaned and purred for him, lips dragging on his skin, wrapping around his fingers and sucking.
“Fuck! Darlin’, you’re something… killing me.” Shit, every movement of those lips made his cock ache, made his hips roll.
“No. Lovin’ you.” Shane grinned, flushed and sweating, sliding against him.
“Mmm.” He rolled, putting Shane on top, and moved his wet fingers down Shane’s back to tease his hole. “You can love me all you want, lover. And this way I can see you.”
Shane stretched up, shifting against his fingers, that pretty chain tugging those rings. He couldn’t resist that chain, like a magpie with something shiny. He pulled at it so gently with his free hand, one finger of his other sliding easily into Shane’s body. Shane rippled, whole body moving, a low cry sounding, and fuck, wasn’t that pretty?
So damned hot. He pressed another finger in, spreading Shane, getting him ready, tugging and pulling and working on driving Shane crazy. Leaning forward, Shane’s hands found the headboard of the bed, arching that tight little body over him, giving him some traction.
“Christ.” He worked Shane wide open, then pulled away and grabbed those narrow hips, pulling Shane right back and down to sit on his cock. Fucking hot.
“Oh. Fuck, yes.” Shane’s head rolled, that marked throat working.
Oh holy fuck. He wanted… well, every damn thing. Galen pulled Shane down harder, cock sliding right in like butter, his belly rippling, balls pulling up. “Shane. Love.”
“Yes. So fucking deep, Len.” Shane groaned, ass milking him, squeezing.
“Tight.” He returned the compliment with one and started moving, hips rising hard. Those little rings with their attached chain glinted, sweat stood out on Shane’s six-pack, and Galen figured he was in heaven. Every time their bodies met that chain bobbed, making Shane groan and gasp.
Music. Just music to his ears. He reached for Shane’s cock, pulled at it, rubbed. He was getting close, so close, so fast.
“Gonna.” Shane starting bucking, eyes hot, fastened onto him.
He nodded, groaned, begging for it. “Yeah, darlin’. Yeah. Need it.” He was panting, his muscles straining. Reaching for it.
Shane bucked, a low, desperate sound filling the air as heat sprayed on his belly. He watched, took in the color of Shane’s flushed skin, the chain, the j
erking of Shane’s cock. Then he let go, groaning harshly as he filled Shane’s ass, whole body shaking.
“Oh. Oh, fuck that’s hot.” Shane was watching him, panting.
Galen wheezed, nodding, pulling Shane down to kiss him hard.
Shane moaned, tongue sliding hot against his. “Love.”
“Did we start the year out right, Shane?” He nipped Shane’s lip. He sure as hell thought they had.
“You know it. Started it like I intend to end it.”
Hell, yes. Galen laughed. “Well, maybe it’s like black-eyed peas, lover. The more we have, the better the year will be.”
“Now that? Is a fucking fabulous idea.”
“Good. We’ll make it our New Year’s resolution.” It would be his only one this year. Love Shane. For as long as the ride lasted. Galen chuckled at himself as he tacked an addendum on to his resolve.
Make that ride last forever.
Epilogue
MAN, THE joint was rocking—Adam and the Cherrystones rocking hard, playing the stuff off the new CD, the entire place feeling celebratory. Jake and Mike were working the bar, and he was roaming, checking on the new bouncer, smiling at his regulars, still avoiding Old Man Roberts’s hands.
The tourists were thick, the summer sun fading into the horizon. Everybody who was anybody stopped to chat with him—hell, even Miss Lynn’s nephew popped by, smiling and laughing about the profits they were sharing, about how Lynn would be rolling in her grave at the new mirrors.
He nodded, clapped Ben on the arm, and moved on, laughing and flirting and hugging and avoiding the ones that were trying to cop a feel. “Taken, sorry.”
“Hey. Can I get a whiskey?” That honey-dipped rough voice with a drawl that wouldn’t quit came from right behind him, and talk about copping a feel. Hello.
He turned to grin into those fine dark eyes, almost hidden by the shadow of that hat. So fucking fine. “Sure enough. One Jack coming up?”
“You’ll pour? I’ll be over there.” That hat dipped toward the big old chair in the dark corner. That was still the same. “Come on over.”
