by V. L. Locey
“Mal, stop overthinking this and let’s just do it before we both go fucking nuts.”
I blinked away the lingering doubts. “Please promise me that at any time if you don’t like what is happening, you’ll speak up.”
“You’re amazing, Mal. After all the hurt I heaped on you and here you are worrying about making me a little uncomfortable.” He kissed me hard. So hard, I forgot about the bad things that could possibly happen. My fingers tightened on the sides of his head, and I met him stroke for stroke. When we parted and tripped through the open doors, we were both breathless and eager. Garrison took a second to close then lock the doors.
“Get those blinds,” I said while pulling my shorts down to my ankles. My briefs went with them. Garrison stood by the doors, his fingers on the wand to close the vertical blinds on the doors, frozen into place, his gaze on my cock. “Please, close the blinds and get naked.” I pulled my shirt over my head. My glasses tangled up in the collar of the dark green polo shirt. I cussed and fished them out of the shirt then flung it over my shoulder. I plunked my glasses back on. I did not want to watch this through a myopic blur.
“I’ve dreamed about this moment for years.” He confided before turning his attention to the blinds. He fumbled around with the wand, twisting it the wrong way at first. The man was taking too damn long. I stalked over to him then slid my hands over his hips until I found his zipper. He sucked in a sharp breath when my fingers danced over his cock.
“Was it me in these dreams or some big, buff guy?” I enquired as I popped the snap on his cargo shorts.
“It’s always been you, Mal.” I tugged his zipper down and found his cock with my right hand as I shoved his shorts and underwear down over his hip with my left. “Shit.” He moaned as I stroked him just the way he liked.
He pulled his plain white t-shirt over his head. I continued caressing his cock, pulling on it with short, brisk tugs that made him roll his hips in pleasure. I nibbled on his shoulder blade. His skin was slightly clammy and salty. My tongue moved over his flesh, enjoying the tang of his sweat. His prick was hot and hard in my hand. His shorts finally slipped off his ass and slithered down his legs. He pulled one foot then the other out. I heard his flip-flops hit the door in front of him. We made our way to the bed, our hands touching each other all the way. The mattress absorbed our weight with ease and gave us just a small bounce. The bedding smelled like fresh cut lilac. Garrison smelled like lemon. As we lounged in that huge bed touching and tasting at our leisure, my senses came to life as never before.
“It’s so nice to not be rushed or worry about someone walking in.” Garrison murmured as his hands roamed over my back. I kissed his neck and jaw, my lips growing tender from the abrasion of his whiskers and kisses. “We need our own place, Mal.”
I lifted my head from his throat. His dark eyes locked with mine. My hand rested on his pectoral. “Are you asking me to live with you?”
“Would you? If we could, I mean. Would you live with me?”
“If we could, yes,” I whispered then kissed him with fire. His fingers danced over my spine as my thumb toyed with his tight nipple.
“Maybe you can find a teaching job in Columbia.” He suggested as my hand drifted over his stomach. “I can play baseball and you can teach.”
“That sounds amazing,” I said then wrapped my fingers around his cock. He jerked and moaned and all conversation about cohabitation ceased. Which was good because sweet nothings whispered in the heat of passion and reality were two vastly different things in our lives. Sure, we could get an apartment together in Columbia but would we out as gay partners? I doubted it. Garrison had made tremendous strides in coming out to his family, but we still had a major obstacle to overcome in telling the Cutters and then the rest of the world. That would take time and lots of it. Was I ready to live that kind of lie?
“Hey, are you still into this?” Garrison asked. My mind raced back to the man lying halfway under me, his hard dick in my hand.
“Yes, sorry, I am. I was just thinking about our future.” I confessed then stretched over his belly so I could take his cock into my mouth. His ass left the mattress. The smooth head of his cock slid into my throat as I cupped his balls. There was little conversation about serious topics after that. I sucked him gently, toying with him, pulling him to the precipice then leaving his cock to suckle on his balls. Throughout the lengthy blowjob, I rubbed my finger over his ass in small round circles, increasing the pressure gradually but not penetrating him.
“Fuck, Mal, get some lube.” Garrison breathlessly demanded a few minutes later. I popped off his dick with a loud slurp then sat up to look down at him. He was a living breathing gay erotic masterpiece – young, strong, eager, hard, and so damn handsome.
“I’ll be right back.” I grabbed a quick kiss then slid off the bed. I lifted my bag from the floor and hefted it onto a cute white wooden chair in the corner. Garrison’s eyes widened when he saw the handful of condoms I chucked on the cherry nightstand. “It’s the Boy Scout in me,” I said then flicked the lid of the lube open.
“You were never a Boy Scout.” He instantly corrected me. I smiled and squeezed a line of clear lube onto my hand. He shuddered visibly. I crawled between his spread legs, my sight locked with his.
“You know me too well,” I said then pressed two fingers against his opening. He dug his heels into the mattress, grabbed the bedding in both hands, and bit down on his lower lip. “Relax,” I whispered then bent forward to lap up some thick pearly liquid from the head of his cock. A hot, deep purr rolled up out of his chest. I pushed past the tight ring of resistance. Garrison hissed as his hips punched upward again. Each time his ass left the bed, more of my fingers slid into him. “Do you like this?” I asked in between long laps around his cock.
“Fuck yeah,” he replied, his voice thick as syrup. I rotated my fingers around and around, stretching him. When I bumped his prostate, he came in my mouth. My cock pulsed in unison with his. “Ah, God, sorry, sorry, sorry.” He growled as he thrashed and came down my throat. “Didn’t mean to…so quickly, so good, so fucking good.”
It was now a primal urge to get inside him and come while buried in his hot, beautiful body. I pulled my mouth off his cock then grabbed his knees. His long legs folded with ease. I looked around for the lube. He lay under me, cock still leaking semen, legs tucked to his chest, open and trusting.
“I swear I’ll be as gentle as I can be.” I promised him as I dug around in the rumpled covers for the condoms. “Please, please, let me know if anything hurts or if you want to stop.” I stammered nervously as I ripped open the only packet I could find. When I had the condom rolled over me, I glanced up to find him watching me closely. Everything that we had ever been was right there. Garrison and O’Malley, the math nerd and the first baseman. Yet, there was now so much more now. He trusted me. He loved me. He was giving something so special to me.
“It’s always been you, Mal,” he said and something sprang open inside me. It felt like an effervescent shower of hope, and trust, and love. Like someone had shaken a bottle of ginger ale and then popped the cork.
“Since first grade,” I finally said. His kiss-swollen lips curled up at the corners. I pushed into him – slowly, lovingly – and knew from the second that his body tightened around mine, that I was his, and always had been. It was a beautiful joining. His body slowly acclimated to me. He gripped his knees tightly as I gave him a bit then pulled out, then a bit more, and then even more. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, God fucking dammit.” He growled and I stopped to let him adjust. “Look at me.” Garrison huffed. I opened my eyes, thankful beyond measure that I had left my glasses on. The sight of me inside him was so powerful I felt tears prickling behind my eyes. He released his knees. I fell over him and claimed his mouth. He pushed his fingers into my hair, taking a tight hold on the longer strands on top. My glasses smashed into my cheek. I flicked my hips. Garrison sucked in a huge breath through his nose.
&
nbsp; “I need to move more,” I whispered over his mouth. He nodded and braced his heels against the mattress while gripping the headboard tightly. “No, it won’t be that hard. Shit, oh, God above.” I shuddered then thrust again. “Garrison.”
“Yeah, love me, Mal.”
That was all it took, hearing him say that as his internal muscles clamped onto my cock. The second thrust took both of our breaths from us. He slid his hands around my sides, palmed my ass and then pulled. His legs tangled with mine.
“Love me harder.” He begged. I had to fulfill his plea. Each pump of my hips brought a strangled grunt from him and a groan of pleasure from me. “Harder.” He kept saying so harder he got it. My balls slapped against his slick skin. I lifted my head once to see him gritting his teeth yet tugging me into him with more force.
I came far too quickly and far too roughly. My head snapped back so hard my glasses flew off my sweaty face. My balls were tight, my spine bowed, my eyes tightly closed as wave after wave of pleasure thrummed through me. I heard him moaning but the pulse of my blood in my ears dulled the sound. When my cock stopped kicking, my joints and muscles turned into well-blended pudding and I dropped onto Garrison.
“I hurt you,” I whispered gruffly. He shook his head as he held me to him. “Yes, I did.” I buried my face into his neck.
“It’s okay. I knew it might be uncomfortable the first time.” He rolled me onto my back. My cock slid out of him. I saw the flinch when he moved, and it made me feel like a jerk. “Mal, it’s all good, seriously. Now kiss me and stop fretting over my delicate little asshole.”
I reached for him. The back of his neck was damp under my fingers. His mouth sought mine with a little prompting from me. He held himself over me, his legs pressed to my hips, his hands on the coverings beside my head. Oh, that kiss was a good one. It went on forever.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said when we came up for air. Garrison collapsed to the bed on my right then held my glasses out to me. The frames were a bit crooked, probably from Mr. Rook falling on them. I crawled over him and pattered out of the bedroom to the sea foam green bathroom, my bent glasses in hand. “I think I might just live here.” I called after I did a full three-sixty. This room was amazing. Soft, plush carpeting and towels, a double sink with streaks of green in the white marble, and a tub big enough for two burly men called to me. I laid my glasses on the cool marble countertop.
Garrison appeared in the doorway, naked and shiny wet with sex sweat. I jerked my head at the egg-shaped tub. He gave me a lurid smile then took a step and grimaced.
“Get in my bag.” I told him as I removed and flushed the used condom. “I brought some sundries to help make you less uncomfortable.”
“You’re the only person I know who uses the word sundries.” He grabbed a fast kiss and then walked gingerly out of the bathroom. “What the hell are sundries anyway?”
“They’re miscellaneous small items.” I shouted to be heard over the water now pounding into the freestanding white porcelain bathtub. I poked around inside the cupboard and found nothing but piles of thick green towels and washcloths. I glanced to the doorway when Garrison reappeared, two fat towels draped over my arms.
“Thanks for all this,” Garrison sheepishly said and held up the bath salts and package of hemorrhoid cream. “My ass really does hurt.” I opened my mouth. “No, don’t apologize. I wanted that as bad as you did.”
“It gets better, I promise.” I dropped the towels beside the tub, took the container of salts from Garrison and stole a kiss. He ran a finger over my cheek. I reached out to touch his chest. “I can’t stop touching you.” I admitted after I sprinkled some of the salts into the tub. A floral scent wafted up from the hot water.
“I can relate.” He wrapped his arms around me and backed me to the tub, his mouth coming down over mine. I dropped the bath salts. My hands went to his ass. Somehow, we managed to step into the tub, our bodies flush against the other, and not slip and kill ourselves. We went to our knees, the hot scented water rolling up to cover our thighs. “Fuck, Mal, I love the feel of you.”
“Mm, I know the feeling,” I said then nipped at his bottom lip. My hands roamed over him, greedy and hungry. I found his soft cock. “You should sit down. There are some Epsom salts mixed in with the soothing floral ones.”
He kept me pinned to his chest as he slithered down into the water. We spent a long time in the tub, kissing and whispering, touching and smiling, teasing and laughing. We were simply, utterly, and madly in love. It was as thick as the steam and wildflower scent on the air.
“I love you, Garrison,” I said while sitting on his thighs and dribbling water down over his chest, one cupped handful at a time. It fascinated me to watch the bath water sliding through the dark wisps of hair that covered his pectorals. His sleepy eyes slowly opened and he smiled. My heart did flips and cartwheels just as it always had when he smiled.
“How could you not?” he jokingly replied then the dancing humor left his eyes. “Do you trust me?”
I paused. His brow furrowed. “I’m trying to.” I told him, intent on keeping our vow of complete candor.
“I thought that might be where you’re at,” he said and ran a wet hand up my side and up under my arm, lifting my arm as he examined it with his fingers. He stroked the long yellow hair of my armpit. It was such an intimate thing that I shivered slightly. No one had ever touched me there, not so reverently. His fingers trailed up to my elbow and then down my forearm, around my palm and back up my arm. I rolled my arm this way and that, watching his expressions subtly shift. When his fingertips moved around the shell of my ear, I cleared my throat to speak.
“I’m working on trusting you, I want to.” I leaned in to kiss him. The water rolled to him and then back to envelop me. I cupped his face, his whiskers scratching my palms as they had my body. He blinked. A droplet of water fell from his lashes. I took another taste of his mouth, then another. “I know it’s crazy to tell a man that you don’t entirely trust that you love him, but that is where I’m at.”
“I’m doing my best, Mal.” He painfully murmured. I led him to my lips.
“I know, and it’s doing wonders, really it is. Give me time, Garrison.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed, I know it takes time. I just want what we have now to be perfect.” He shifted his long legs and I glided over them until my knees were on either side of his thighs. His cock nestled next to mine, trapped between our stomachs, both hard lengths twitched as they bumped. I sucked in a shaky breath at the same time Garrison did. “I love you, Mal. Like the real love that two men feel for each other, not the brotherly kind of love that we used to have.”
“It’s grown and changed, hasn’t it?” He nodded. I rotated my hips. His hands moved down my sides until his fingers had a tight hold on my hips. “Would you like to go back to bed?”
“Can I suck you off? I really like sucking you off,” he said and lifted his ass from the bottom of the tub. Our pricks bobbed and bounced against the other. I grabbed his shoulders and ground myself against him.
“I really like having you suck me off.” I told him with a waggle of an eyebrow. The mood changed in a heartbeat. I leaped out of the tub, forgoing the towels. Garrison followed and we left a sloppy trail of puddles on the carpeting. The bed, still torn apart and sporting some sweaty body marks from our first romp, got wetter and more disheveled when our soaking wet bodies rolled into it. I fell asleep draped over Garrison an hour later, drawing in lemon soap and breathing out contentment, as his hand idly rubbing my upper arm.
Thirteen
When I awoke a few hours later, his leg had mine pinned down, and his arm lay over my shoulder. I drifted on and off for a few minutes, soaking up the feel of his body behind mine. I reached up to touch his fingers as they hung in the air, mere inches from my chest. They twitched slightly when I lifted his hand gently up to my lips. I kissed his thumb, and then the others, my eyes closed against the shards of sunlight peeking through the crac
ks in the blinds. Waking up with Garrison felt right. Lying here, the sound of the surf pounding on the sand, pressing kisses to his finger pads, everything in life was linear.
The upheaval of the past few months disappeared when I had his chest against my back. Each soft sleeping exhalation that flittered over the nape of my neck eased me. I had never felt this contented before unless I was penciling numbers down on paper. Getting them into neat rows, making them dance to my whim, celebrating how the truth of numbers is unassailable. Math will never lie to you as a man will. It hit me like a rubber mallet to the kneecap as I rested in Garrison’s arms. Maybe my love of numbers came from the fear of deceit. Was that why I had reacted so strongly to Garrison lying to me and breaking his vows?
I held his hand up and slithered out from under his arm and leg. When I was free of his weight I sat up, wrinkled sheets slipping to my lap, and I looked down on the man at my side. He was slightly blurred but I didn’t need my glasses to know what he looked like. I had memorized Garrison years ago. My bag sat on the floor, open, and looking like someone had taken a stick to my clothes and stirred them up. I tugged out a pair of running shorts then stepped into them. I found my glasses, wire frames still bent, lying on the bathroom counter. The tub was full of cold water. I drained it and hung the unused towels on the rack. I used the toilet, washed up in the sink, and then walked through the villa carefully as I tried to get my frames properly aligned.
Once they were back on my face I threw open the side door and followed the sound of the surf. A long boardwalk led from the villas to the sea. I walked barefoot down the weather-worn boards until my feet sank into the damp sand. The beach was empty. I had no idea of the time. I debated walking up the beach but something about the soft waves rolling over my feet kept me right where I was, standing in the surf and letting my mind run on overdrive.
