The Dirty Martini

by George, G. R. ; George, Renee;

  Marty’s stomach squeezed. Chris might not have seen war, but he knew loss. He’d done a good job of hiding his emotions, but losing anyone you care for leaves a person raw like an open wound.

  Chris’s bangs clung to his brow. Impulsively Marty brushed them aside with a finger. Chris’s eyes fluttered open—a question in his gaze.

  Marty bit his lower lip, trying to stifle the exhilaration he experienced when Chris looked at him. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone, male or female, for a very long time. Chris wasn’t the first guy who Marty had found attractive or sexually appealing, but he’d never acted on those feelings. The life he chose wasn’t conducive to any relationship—gay, straight, or otherwise. In high school, Marty dated the prettiest girls, and he certainly hadn’t felt like any part of his social life lacked, but there had also been the occasional boy who turned his head.

  After Jay’s coming out, it had just been easier to be the “straight” brother. His parents had assumed that role for him, and Marty, since he’d also found women attractive, never tried to change their opinion.

  Meeting Chris’s gaze, Marty’s cock stiffened in his shorts. Yes, it had been a long time since he’d held anyone in his arms, felt the tender mercies of a willing kiss, and the symbiosis of two people sharing an intimate moment while the world fell away around them. Chris licked his lips and heat rushed to Marty’s groin. The dark blond was too tempting. And, Marty knew by his expression, willing.

  “You okay?” Marty asked. His question cut through the building erotic tension.

  “Yah.” Chris blinked. His mouth tugged up at the corners in a simple smile. “You?”

  “I think I actually slept.” Marty didn’t know whether to feel grateful or guilty. As long as he dreamed of that night—dreamed of Mike—he kept the memory of a good man, his best friend, alive. “Sorry, I didn’t wake you up sooner.”

  Chris chuckled. “No worries. I’m still here.”

  The guileless phrase made Marty wince. The Army psychiatrist had said much the same to Marty. How Mike was gone, but he was still here. Life went on. The anger that normally accompanied the sentiment disappeared in Chris’s presence. “I’m glad,” Marty finally said.

  Chris’s lips parted in a wide smile—his lit expression lifted the burden of grief from Marty’s chest.

  God, he wanted to kiss that mouth, to take Chris in his arms and let the heat of Chris’s body thaw the cold memories. He’d never had a problem with bravery in his professional life, but in his private life, Marty had always been a coward. He didn’t want to be a coward anymore. There were so many changes happening in his life at the moment, and one very important choice to make—take the job as a trainer or leave the Army. He worried it was making him impulsive and stupid. Besides, he’d never been with a guy before. He’d probably make a giant mess of everything.

  “Hey, earth to Marty.” Chris tapped him on the shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

  Marty raised his brows, trying to decide between what he ought to do and what he wanted to do. He rubbed his fingers against his own chest, the soft hairs dancing under the tips. “I’m thinking about how it would feel to kiss you.”

  Chris bit off a surprised laugh. “Really?” He must have seen the seriousness on Marty’s face, because he sobered quickly. This time when he asked the question, it was filled with wonder. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Marty wouldn’t take it back. Not now.

  Chris propped up on an elbow and leaned down to Marty. He stopped a few inches shy of an actual kiss and waited. “If you want me, Marty. You’ll have to meet me half way.”

  It had been easier when he’d thought Chris would do all the work, that he could somehow be passive in this game of attraction. Marty swallowed hard, the tension in his chest returning as he leaned in to close the gap between them. Chris pressed his mouth gently to Marty’s. His lips were soft and slightly moist where he’d licked them. What surprised Marty the most was their warmth. Chris pulled back, before kissing Marty again, this time waiting for Marty’s lips to move with his.

  Their bodies hadn’t touched yet, but the electricity from the kiss sent a jolt of pleasure down Marty’s stomach to his groin. He wanted so much more from Chris. What would it be like to hold him, to feel Chris’s weight on top of him, and have their cocks rub together in delicious friction? His dick hardened at the fantasy.

  After a few enjoyable seconds, Chris stopped, putting inches between their faces again. “Well?” he asked Marty, a coy smile playing across his lips. “You’ve now kissed a boy. Did you like it?”

  “Yes,” Marty said, without humor. He stroked his fingertip along Chris square jaw. “Very much.” He moved his hand to the back of Chris’s neck and pulled him down until their lips met again. He opened his mouth this time, allowing Chris’s tongue to tangle with his own. They kissed in an exchange fraught with passion but edged by comfort and understanding. It surprised Marty when wet tears fell on his cheeks.

  Chris pulled back again—his eyes shining. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what’s gotten in to me.”

  Marty put his hands on either side of Chris face. He kissed one of Chris’s eyes before moving to the next. He tasted the salty liquid on his lips, drinking Chris’s pain, accepting his sorrow. He wished he could do for Chris the one thing that nobody had been able to do for him—give him back the missing pieces of his world.

  “Don’t be sorry.” He wrapped his arms around Chris, drawing the grieving man to his chest as he absorbed Chris’s warmth into his skin. How in the world had he found himself in this situation? He barely knew Chris, yet he needed him and needed to be needed by him. The idea of this stranger lessening his pain, his own grief was almost laughable.

  Marty tilted Chris’s chin up until their eyes met again. He dipped his head, sipping a kiss from Chris’s lips. Everything about the man in his arms felt right, and in Marty’s world, nothing had felt right for a very long time…

  “I need you to not be sorry.”

  Chapter 7

  I Want To Touch You

  Chris had never cried openly in front of another man before. It just didn’t happen. It embarrassed him when he couldn’t control his emotions. Of course, most of the guys he spent time with were strictly for fucking. To make matter worse, Marty was a badass ranger. Also, there was the big question—straight, gay, bisexual, or bi-curious? Chris had slept with a bi-curious man once. The result had been less than ideal. Chris had ended up with a sore ass and a punch in the jaw for his trouble.

  Is that what would happen if he took things further with Marty? Would the night end in regrets and recriminations? Also, Chris reminded himself, Marty was his boss’s brother. The job at The Other Team might not seem as important as being a U. S. Army Ranger, but it was a good job, and it paid Chris’s bills. If he had any sense at all, he’d make a hasty beeline back to the couch.

  Marty pulled Chris closer, the cool thrust of his tongue parting Chris’s lips again, and Chris felt Marty’s erection press against his stomach. It drove all good sense right the fuck out. Marty shifted again. His thigh brushed against Chris’s rock-hard cock.

  Chris bit back a groan. He fit against Marty’s body as if the soldier had been custom-tailored for him. “I want to touch you,” he murmured against Marty’s lips. “I want to make you feel so good.”

  Marty took Chris’s hand from his chest and pushed it down until Chris’s palm rested over his swollen cock. Chris watched Marty’s eyes flutter and roll as he squeezed the generous shaft. He stroked the length through the white cotton boxer briefs Marty wore before sliding his fingertips under the elastic band and taking the warm, silky flesh into his hand.

  A low noise escaped Marty’s lips.

  “Feel good?” Chris asked.

  “Yes,” Marty hissed. His breathing shallowed as his hips began to move, thrusting his cock into Chris’s curled fingers.

  Chris kissed along Marty’s jaw and neck, licking and nibbling on his skin, inhaling the mascu
line scents of the man’s earthy cologne. “Good. So, good.”

  The friction of Marty’s thigh rubbing against Chris cock was bringing Chris close. Too fucking close. Marty Lincoln had him ready to shoot his load without ever taking off his pants.

  “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

  His words brought Marty’s thrusts to a screeching halt. Shit! He’d scared the straight boy. He’d fucking knew something like this would happen. Why had Chris let himself get into this situation in the first goddamned place?

  He put the brakes on his internal diatribe when he noticed Marty wasn’t trying to get away. He’d just stopped moving. “What’s wrong?” Chris asked when his nerve caught up with his brain.

  Marty’s voice, deep and thick with lust, made Chris’s stomach flutter when he said, “Take your pants off.”

  Chris pushed his sweats, along with his underwear, down his legs and kicked them off on the floor. He waited for Marty—the soldier’s expression would determine Chris’s next move. Marty’s eyes were half-lidded, his mouth relaxed as he eased out of his own underwear.

  “What do you want, Marty?” Chris asked.

  “I want to feel you on top of me. I want to touch your body with as much of my body as possible. I want to forget where I end and you begin.” Marty closed his eyes. “I know I sound crazy.”

  Chris leaned forward and put his finger to Marty’s lip. “Shh. I know exactly what you mean.” A scary sensation, one Chris had never experienced before began to grow. Maybe it was Marty’s sadness that called to him, that drew him to the strong, quiet man. Whatever it was, in this moment he understood the need to feel something—anything—to keep the lonely ache away.

  First, though, he opened Jay’s bedside table and smiled. His boss had a large supply of condoms and lube on hand.

  “What are you doing?” Marty asked.

  Chris held up a bottle of Astro-glide. He snapped the top open and poured a quarter-sized amount in the palm of his hand. He slicked the liquid up and down his own straining cock as Marty watched.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Chris smiled. “I’m not a girl. You don’t have to tell me that.” He straddled Marty’s thighs and poured a small amount of the liquid over the soldier boy’s shaft.

  Marty shook his head. “That isn’t why I said it.” Marty let out a stuttering breath when Chris stroked his cock to distribute the lubricant.

  Chris leaned forward until both their lengths pressed between them. “Then why did you say it?”

  Marty stared at Chris. He placed his palm on Chris’s cheek and brushed his thumb across his lower lip. “Because it’s true.”

  Overcome, Chris nearly cried…Again. Jesus.

  Chapter 8

  This Happy Trail Makes Me Happy

  Marty’s leg ached with Chris’s full weight on him, but it was better than the alternative…Not having Chris on top of him. He inhaled, holding his breath to keep from moaning, when Chris began thrusting his shaft against him—their cocks rubbing together. The sweet contact promised a dark release Marty needed so badly. Chris’s warm breath danced against Marty’s skin, heating the spots where Chris licked and nibbled.

  Marty’s balls drew tight with the building climax. He rocked his hips to meet Chris’s grinding thrusts. “Fuck,” he breathed out, the tail end of the word turning into a moan of pleasure he couldn’t hold back.

  He kneaded the muscles of Chris’s back, working his fingers down until he found purchase on Chris’s firm ass. He dug his nails in, urging Chris for more.

  “Don’t come,” Chris said, his tone darkly seductive. “I want to suck you. I want to taste that gorgeous cock.”

  Marty froze in place, nearly coming at Chris’s words. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold off.” It had been too long, and he was out of practice.

  Chris dipped his head and tugged Marty’s lower lip between his teeth, stretching the delicate flesh before he let it snap back. He smiled. “You’re in for a real treat.”

  Marty watched as Chris crawled backward down his chest and arched when the blond stopped to tease each of his nipples with playful flicks and licks of his tongue. His tongue created a socket that sent electric jolts of pleasure straight to Marty’s groin. Chris worked each nipple until they were both tautly drawn nubs.

  Chris’s fingers combed through the hair on Marty’s chest. The warmth of his palms seeped into Marty’s muscles.

  “God, I love my men to be men,” Chris whispered.

  Marty smiled. Chris’s lack of hair had been what had fascinated him at first. And now, he knew even Chris’s groin was sparsely covered with the small vee of short brown curls.

  Chris kissed his way past Marty’s belly button. “This happy trail makes me very happy,” he murmured. His smooth chest slid over Marty’s shaft. If Chris didn’t hurry, he’d be tasting Marty without having to suck his dick. Goddamn. The thought made Marty’s balls burn with the need to find release.

  “Stop playing,” he said as he grasped the top of Chris’s head and pushed. He wanted to have those sensual lips wrapped around his cock, and he wanted it now.

  Chris didn’t need any other prompting. And while it wasn’t Marty’s first blowjob, not by many years and several partners, when Chris opened his mouth—his tongue dipping briefly into Marty’s slitted tip—and took Marty’s length to the back of his throat in one quick motion, Marty’s hips bucked involuntarily. Chris’s confidence proved warranted. The man knew how to suck cock.

  Chris held Marty down with his palms on either side of Marty’s hips as he bobbed his head up and down, applying even suction as his tongue danced over the engorged shaft.

  Marty let out a stammering breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He looked down his body at Chris and watched as Chris slid his stretched lips up and down, all the while never taking his gaze off Marty’s face.

  Spit pooled around Marty’s balls. The wet fur only added to the erotic tension threatening to explode. Chris opened Marty’s thighs wider, and the movement in his right thigh caused too much pain. His mounting climax waned as a sharp stab lanced into his hip. “No,” he panted, drawing his leg back. “Hurts.”

  Chris stopped forcing Marty’s right leg. Alternately, he moved the left up to bend at an angle. Marty gasped when Chris pushed a saliva slick finger past his balls and between his butt cheeks until it rested over his tight pucker.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, unsure if he wanted what Chris was offering.

  Chris dragged a slow lick up Marty’s cock, his tongue twirling at the tip. “You’ve never had anyone play with your ass?”

  “No.” He clenched his cheeks reflexively.

  “It’ll feel really good if you relax.”

  “I’m not sure how much more feeling really good I can take.” He tried to chuckle to hide his unease, but Chris’s piercing hazel eyes seemed to have a bullshit meter.

  “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like, and I’ll stop the minute you say so.” He nuzzled his cheek against Marty’s groin. “Watching your face as you experience everything I do to your body makes me happier than I’ve felt in a long time. You are an amazing man, Marty Lincoln. That is rare these days.”

  Marty pursed his lips to ward off a whimper of surrender. In the years, days, minutes, and hours leading up to this moment, he never imagined he would be in bed with a man who wanted to suck his dick and probe his ass. He’d never been a selfish lover—always making sure the women he bedded climaxed before he did. But Chris freed him to relax. To take. For a few moments, he could stop being in charge—stop making all the decisions. He wanted Chris so badly, wanted the man to bring him the mind-blowing release he needed to cleanse himself of his grief…his guilt. If only for a short while.

  He brushed Chris’s bangs back from his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

  The briefest of smile flitted across Chris’s lips before he engulfed Marty’s cock in his mouth again. Marty groane
d as warmth flooded his groin, and his cock grew intensely rigid between Chris’s lips. This time, when the dark blond’s finger slipped between the crack of his ass, Marty made an effort not to tense. Chris rewarded him by taking Marty’s cock deep to the back of his throat again and swallowing. The action squeezed the ripe head of his dick.

  “Oh, fuck,” he moaned, as a foggy haze of pure ecstasy replaced bad memories and doubt.

  On that note, Chris pushed the tip of his finger into Marty. He must have put some of the Astro-glide on his hand because Marty didn’t feel the expected pinch, just a slight discomfort as his muscle tensed around Chris’s finger. Slowly, Chris eased his way in as he continued to fuck Marty’s cock with his mouth.

  When Chris’s finger stroked past Marty’s prostate, Marty jerked with a shout as every part of him exploded into a million pieces. Chris kept thrusting until he drank every bit of Marty’s climax, stroking, sucking, and swallowing as he moved with Marty’s stabbing thrusts. By the time the orgasm began to diminish, Marty was as loose as a bowl of gelatin. Over the past two years, he’d been going to massage therapy a minimum of once a week, and not a single time had he ever left the table more relaxed than after coming for Chris.

  With a deliberate slow gentleness, Chris slipped his lips from Marty’s softening cock as he withdrew his finger. He licked his lips and with a satisfied smile, said, “Strong finish.”

  When Marty caught his breath, he shook his head. “It was touch and go there for a minute.”

  “Yeah,” Chris agreed. “I touched and you went.”

  Marty laughed, even as a sharp pain bit into his leg again. It’d been too long since he’d taken his pain meds. “Can you hand me my pills? They’re on the night stand.”