by E M Lindsey
“Yes,” Sage said, sound nearly drunk on lust.
“And if you’re very good, I’ll let you suck my cock in the shower.”
Sage groaned, looking like he wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t. He was so good. “Yes.”
Will could sustain himself for the rest of his life on every single one of those yeses. He withdrew, then thrust in, watching the way ecstasy rippled through Sage’s limbs. Sage almost seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself, his fingers scrambling against the sheets as Will did it again—and then again. He lifted Sage’s ass higher, changed the angle, knowing each pass was tormenting his prostate.
Finally, after an eternity of flailing, Sage’s hands lifted. They were huge, so much bigger than Will’s. His arms had a longer reach, his torso engulfing him every time Sage took him into a hug. But there, in that bed, Will lorded over him as Sage’s fingers passed a gentle touch up his arms, then came to rest at the tops of his shoulders.
“Good?” Will demanded.
Sage had no words, but he moaned and ground his hips against Will’s as Will began to circle and push. He slipped his hands between them, trailing the edges of his nails down Sage’s chest. He paused to pinch the barbell in his nipple, watching as a flush rose from his torso to his neck, and then high into his cheeks.
Sage’s eyes were still fixed on him, and Will drank in the gaze of pure adoration, need, and maybe just a hint of madness. He bit his lip, knowing Sage was close—knowing he was close. Knowing they had all the time in the world, at least for the two long days their home was going to be empty.
Later—maybe even tomorrow—Will might bind Sage’s wrists. He might slip on his sleep mask and sit him at the table and feed him, then lick his ass until he came. He might sit himself on the sofa entirely naked and order Sage to touch him, and suck him off, then slip inside him and bring Will over the edge while keeping his own orgasm back.
He might even strip them both down, order Sage to put his head in Will’s lap, then stroke his hair until he fell asleep because Will was exhausted, but Sage’s need for sleep went far, far beyond his.
Will’s fingers bypassed Sage’s cock, and he smiled at the frustrated groan which ripped from his lover’s chest. He dragged his hand along the inside of his thigh, down toward the knee, then back up again. Watching his face, watching his struggle, Will cupped Sage’s balls against his palm and rolled them gently before giving a short tug. They were full, and he wanted to see them empty all over Sage’s chest.
“Mine,” he breathed out, and Sage’s head flopped back, though his eyes stayed open. “You are mine.”
“Yes,” Sage managed on the edge of a sob as Will gave a particularly vicious thrust.
“Say it,” Will ordered.
Sage licked his lips, then pushed up onto his elbows and met Will’s gaze. “I’m yours. Always will be.”
Part of Will—the wild, possessive part—wanted to demand that Sage tell him he always was. Even before Sage knew him. But it was needlessly cruel, because there was a part of Sage that would always belong to Teddy. Just a sliver of his heart that Will could never touch.
And the ugly, jealous part of him hated that, even if he knew he could never hate the man who once brought Sage joy. Teddy had proven to Sage that there was so much more to life than the torment he’d suffered as a child, and even in death, he deserved to keep that small piece of Will’s husband with him.
Will forced himself back to the present, curling his fingers into Sage’s hips in a punishing grip. He rose a little higher on his knees, watched the crease in Sage’s fit, muscular stomach as he bent further. His hips snapped, putting everything he had into those thrusts. He watched Sage’s head move from side to side, feeling Sage’s fingers move against his skin desperate to touch himself but also desperate to follow Will’s orders.
His gaze drifted downward to Sage’s cock, the way it was thick and pulsing and ready to explode. A single touch would do it, and for a wild moment, Will almost couldn’t resist.
He sped up, the room filled with the sound of Sage’s grunts, skin slapping against skin, ragged breathing. Will reached forward again and pinched Sage’s nipple. Hard. “I want you to come,” he said.
And then Sage did.
He couldn’t always follow that order. Sometimes it took more. Sometimes it took Will breaking his own command and taking Sage with a single stroke. But not today. Today, Sage had been waiting on edge for so fucking long. His body shifted, then bowed into a gorgeous arc as he crashed over the edge, his cock thick and spilling come into his dark hair.
Will squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his own orgasm build, and then eventually burst as Sage’s ass spasmed around him. His thrusts stuttered, his head bowed as he came, and for a moment it was too much to bear. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air, felt like he wanted it to stop, felt like he wanted it to go on forever.
Eventually, his breathing began to slow, and he felt Sage’s body lying boneless in his grip. Will forced more air into his lungs before peeling his eyes open, and his gaze trailed over his prone lover. Sage was lying back against the pillows, his arms slack at his sides. His legs were up only because Will held them, and he gently eased them to his side as he slipped out.
There was mess everywhere, musky and thick. Will debated about leaving it there just for a bit, but he knew it bothered his lover, so he rose on shaking legs and made his way to the bathroom. He took his time, letting the faucet warm, then grabbed a washcloth and soaked it. By the time he got back, Sage’s breathing was steady, and his flush had receded. Will might have thought he was asleep if he didn’t know better, and he knelt at the edge of the bed and first dragged the cloth between Sage’s thighs.
With a groan, Sage turned his head, but he didn’t open his eyes yet. “I,” he started, then silence followed.
Will waited to see if he was going to say anything else. “You were perfect,” he said. He leaned in to kiss Sage’s knee before he moved the cloth up to his belly. With perfunctory swipes, Will had him clean, then he tugged at him and rolled him until he’d freed the sheets, and took a moment to slide in and nestle against him.
One hand went to Sage’s hair as the larger man curled into him, and Will pressed a kiss to his temple, feeling the curve of his smile as he kissed back against Will’s shoulder.
“I should get you water,” Will said after a beat. “And maybe something to eat?”
“Mm,” Sage mumbled, his mouth moving along Will’s warm skin. “M’fine.”
“You were waiting a long time,” Will reminded him. He scratched along his scalp, then kneaded his fingers into the back of Sage’s neck. “A very long time.”
“Felt even longer than that,” Sage said, and then laughed softly when Will did. “It was so good.”
“Yeah?”
Sage pushed up onto his elbow and frowned at Will. “Yes. It’s always so good. Was it…did you…”
It wasn’t often Sage got insecure after these moments, but every now and again, he struggled. Will sighed and palmed his cheek, urging him into a kiss. “It was more than I could have asked for. You were perfect, and you felt so good.”
Sage let out a small, happy sigh, then nestled back against Will’s chest. “I love when we do this. When you leave me here while you pray. Even if it always feels a little…irreverent.”
Will frowned, then realized what he was saying and he laughed. “I disagree. I mean, maybe to the doctrine—because, well,” he didn’t finish because the last thing they needed was to hear how the tenants of faith wanted to see him punished for loving this man. “But you know I never bought into that.”
“I do,” Sage murmured, and pressed a kiss right over the beat of Will’s heart. “You’re perfect for me. You know that?”
“I…have suspected from time to time,” Will answered, then laughed when Sage pinched his side.
“I just mean…” he hesitated, then pushed away to look at Will again. “Sometimes I wish we met before…everyth
ing. That we met first.”
Will blinked at him.
“It’s not that I’ll ever regret Teddy. I mean, getting over him was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I think I needed him to…to be the man you were capable of falling in love with. But I think you’d always have been good for me. I’ll always love him, but you give me things that even I don’t know I want until you offer them to me. No one has ever made me feel like this.”
Will’s eyes were hot, and he licked his lips before leaning in to kiss him. “You’re the love of my life,” he murmured against Sage’s lips. “I think things happened exactly the way they were supposed to.”
“Yeah,” Sage breathed out, then wound his arms around Will and held tight. They lay there like that for what felt like hours, though it was probably less than half of one. The beat of their hearts synced, and their bodies relaxed. Eventually, Sage pulled away again and looked down into Will’s face. “Do you want to tie me up and feed me?”
Though Will swore he was drained and wouldn’t be up for anything the rest of the night, desire suddenly rushed through him. He sat up on an elbow and brought the tips of his fingers to Sage’s jaw. “Yes,” he said. “Yes I do. Go get the cuffs.” The look on Sage’s face was worth it. The open desire.
Maybe they wouldn’t have sex again. Not tonight. They were spent. But this weekend was to indulge every little itch Sage needed scratched that he couldn’t reach on a normal day. And Will had a second wind for that. And then a third. And a fourth. And as many as Sage would need until the door swung open and chaos crept back in.
And it was no trouble at all, because by the heavens, he loved this man to eternity and back.
* * *
Fin.
James and Rowan
The Promise
One
The Promise
“I’m going to be there in like twenty minutes.” Rowan’s voice was a soothing balm to his tortured nerves, and James finally let himself breathe as he laid back on the bed. He’d spent his entire life thinking he’d never fall in love—and he’d been fine with it. And after meeting Rowan—after giving everything to him in ways he couldn’t describe in words—he was happy. He was settled.
Hell, he thought they all were.
Then his best friend had to go and get fuckin’ married and ask him to be the best man which was more goddamn responsibility than he’d ever wanted. Especially since the son of a bitch decided to go and get married in Arizona thanks to Wyatt and his goddamn cowboy wedding obsession.
Not that James would have deprived either man of that joy, but fuck’s sake, he just wanted to rest.
He’d spent the entire day solidifying plans, making sure the food was going to be done for the reception, making sure all the cowboy actors were going to show up sober and ready. His stomach hurt from the shitty fried food he’d been eating all day, and he just wanted his lover.
“Just promise me we never have to do this,” James groaned. His legs were aching, and he was pretty sure if he hadn’t lost the fuckers already, he would after this mess of a weekend.
Rowan laughed quietly. “I promise.”
“Don’t mean I love you less than Mat loves Wyatt. You know that right?”
Rowan sighed out a quiet, “Yeah, I do.”
“I’d give you the fuckin’ moon, darlin’. The stars. The universe. But I’d rather die than ever do this again.”
Rowan laughed again. “I know. And I’m happy. I see the turn-off right now, babe. See you in a bit.”
James had been ready to collapse, but knowing that Rowan was minutes away from being in his arms was enough to reinvigorate him. They were all staying in a guest-house—some massive mini-mansion in the middle of nowhere with easy access to the Tombstone town center where Mat and Wyatt would tie the knot in the rose garden the next day.
They all planned to take an extra few days to enjoy themselves while the newlyweds fucked off to wherever they were road tripping to, and James had meant to enjoy it. He did. But now he was homesick and he was feeling very alone.
“Jamie?”
Groaning, James pushed up, wincing at the pain lancing up his sides, and he wished he’d brought his damn wheelchair. He hobbled to the door, then affected something like a smile as he threw it open to stare at the groom. “Yes?”
“I’m gonna fuck this up.”
All of his irritation melted away, and James grabbed Mat by the waist, dragging him through the door and pushing him toward the bed. “We’ve been over this.”
“I know, but…”
James sat down and stared at him, waiting for Mat’s shoulders to relax. “You could literally say nothing and he’d marry you anyway. You could stand there and make fart noises and he’d tell everyone you were his sun and stars.”
“Jesus,” Mat said, but he was grinning again and James felt a small surge of triumph.
“He’s not gonna care if you don’t get all your words perfect. None of that matters to him.”
“I just…didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much,” Mat admitted quietly.
James couldn’t help his smile, even if it made him feel like a fuckin’ idiot. “I know.” And he did. God, he did, and some nights it terrified him beyond all reason. But Rowan was worth it. He was worth everything. He was worth that lingering, terrifying threat of hell that still existed in his dad’s voice.
Reaching out, James cupped Mat’s cheek and remembered the man who had been straight—or they all assumed. He was the quiet one—the good one. The best one out of all of them, and the one who deserved this more than anyone James knew. Including himself.
“Just get all your freakin’ out done now,” James told him. “Because there ain’t gonna be time for it tomorrow.”
Mat paled a little, but then his eyes went wide. “Oh god. Rowan.”
James frowned. “What?”
“He’s fake.”
It took James a second to work out what he was saying. The wedding had made Mat’s aphasia worse than usual, but he liked to consider himself an expert in Mat’s language. “He’s not late, he just called.”
Mat visibly relaxed. “Good. I don’t want to do this without him here.”
James felt something warm and settled in him—the fact that Mat had embraced Rowan like family. The fact that they all had. “Where’s your fiancé?”
Mat grinned wider. “Downstairs with the kids.”
“Go get him. Tell him you’re nervous. He’s the one who needs to hear this because he’s the one who’ll have all the right words to make you feel better.”
Mat’s eyes narrowed. “Because your boyfriend is going to be here in a minute and you want to be able to fuck him immediately.”
“Yes, and if you don’t get the hell out before he gets here, I’m going to give you all the details.”
Mat laughed, then stood up, but he stopped half a step from the bed and turned again. “I love you.”
James flushed, not sure what to do with Mat’s brand of affection even after all these years.
“I know you hate when I say that, but I do. And this is the right weekend for it.” He didn’t pull James into a hug, didn’t make it worse by digging deeper. He just let those three words burrow into his soul, reminding James that there was another sort of love that transcended language and it was between him and all his family he’d found within the walls of that little tattoo shop.
“Thank you,” he finally said, and he knew Mat would hear that reply for what it was. The, I love you too. The, I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you. The, you are my family and that will never change.
He was still vaguely unsettled when the bedroom door opened again, and his heart started to race at the sight of his lover. Rowan looked gorgeously rumpled, his hair a little messy, his suit wrinkled, his eyes drooping from the long flight and even longer drive. James, who had flopped back down on the bed, pushed up on his elbows and started to rise, but Rowan was on him before he had the chance.
<
br /> A thick, warm thigh pressed between his legs, hands rucking up his shirt, warm lips against his neck. He felt the rumble of Rowan’s groan across the surface of his skin, and he dug his fingers into the other man’s soft curls.
“Hey, darlin’,” James murmured, and he felt Rowan’s lips curve up into a smile against the underside of his jaw.
“Missed you.” Rowan’s words came on the heels of an open-mouthed kiss, his teeth dragging along James’ stubble. He hummed again, smudging them upward until he was nibbling on James’ bottom lip, and James opened for him.
The kiss was hot, deep, filthy. Rowan tasted like old coffee and mint, and James wanted to lose himself in it forever. Rowan managed to get James’ shirt off, then trailed kisses along his exposed collarbones, paying attention to the images there, swirling his tongue over the ink-splatter crow just above his left nipple.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are today?” Rowan murmured.
James flushed all the way down to the edges of his stumps, tensing the muscles that once would have curled his toes. “No. I don’t think you have.”
“Shame on me,” Rowan murmured. He dragged nails down with him, leaving light trails of the faintest stinging pain before reaching for James’ zipper and button, and pulled his jeans back in a wide V. “Can I?”
James knew what he was asking, so he spread his arms and let Rowan undress him. He was careful, precise, releasing the suction on each of his legs, gently drawing them down and setting them off to the side with the care and reverence Rowan used for all of James’ parts.
Tossing the jeans to the far side of the room, Rowan knelt at the edge of the bed—still in his suit—and rolled each one of James’ socks down. He never cared that he was sweaty, or that it kind of smelled, or that the bits and pieces of him didn’t look like other people.
He held James’ thigh between his hands, kissed every inch of exposed skin, then lowered his head and without any finesse, took James’ half-hard cock all the way into his mouth.
