by Tara Lain
He pressed a ribbon of lube onto his very erect cock, dropped the tube, and used the same hand to stroke his dick until it was nice and shiny and slick. Separating the fingers of his other hand in Gareth’s hole, he made space, pressed his cockhead into the tightness, then pulled out his fingers, pushing hard with his hips. Dear God, how could he forget in one day the pure bliss of that hot ass? So tight. Clearly Gareth hadn’t bottomed a lot. Hell, in his closeted life, it was a wonder he’d ever gotten to have sex at all. But man, talk about a perfect fit. Gareth could turn him into a top anytime. He thrust. Hard.
“Holy bloody fucking shit!” Gareth lost it, pushing against David’s cock faster than David could keep up. David pressed a hand to that muscular ass to steady him a little, leaned over the broad back, and began to thrust his hips. Gareth cried out, begging, moaning, praising, until it became one great wail of pleasure.
Oh God, he loved it. He felt powerful. Like nothing and no one could ever hurt him again. Those little cat mewling sounds? He loved those best. Wanted to hear more of those. He changed his angle to the side, ensuring a straight shot on Gareth’s prostate. The mewls became a roar of pleasure. Okay, that worked. He pulled his cock out to the tip and slowly pushed back in, then followed with three short choppy thrusts.
“Oh David, oh David, oh David….”
Sweet. He could hear his name from those beautiful lips all day.
Suddenly his body flamed into overdrive. Every nerve came alive, electricity powered up and down his spine, and he felt like a hero conquering and serving at the same time.
Then, blastoff.
“Oh God, Gareth.” He reached around, grabbed Gareth’s cock, and pumped it like he needed water or he’d die of thirst. It only took two strokes.
“David, David, I love this, I love this, I love….”
Oh yes, I love. I love. I love.
Hot cum spilled over David’s hand, and his whole body seemed to turn inside out as it pulsed his semen into the exquisite, hot ass of this man he defied himself not to love. He never wanted to stop. He never wanted to let go.
OUTSIDE, IN the dark bushes around the side of the cottage, Edge shuddered at the cries and moans of pleasure he heard through the partly open window. How could Gareth do that with… with him? How could he do it?
Edge pulled his hand out of his pants covered with cum and wiped it on his shorts. With his other hand, he slapped the wetness from his cheeks.
Maybe it was time he found out.
JUST INSIDE the door of the gallery, Gareth gave David a sweet kiss. Dressed in warm-ups over his devastating trunks, Gareth had said he intended to go to the beach and play a pick-up game of volleyball, or basketball if he couldn’t find a volleyball partner.
David gave him a saucy look. “Have mercy on the men and women of Laguna Beach, cutie. You should stop at the police department and have those swim trunks registered as a lethal weapon.”
Gareth laughed, kissed David’s nose, and headed down the sidewalk. David finished the opening procedures, then grabbed a box of brochures from the back and replenished the literature holders around the gallery. He glanced at his watch. JJ would be another half hour, but no worries as Gareth would say, since the town wouldn’t get busy for at least that long.
Might as well put out that new Indonesian carving while I have a minute. He went in back where he’d opened the shipping crate last night but left the carving inside. He was excited to have this piece, a primitive Ganesha statue showing the playful elephant-man lying in blissful repose. A protection god, Ganesha was honored in many parts of the world, and David had always had a special affection for him. Maybe because he was different too. Not quite what people expected a man to be like and yet a hero nonetheless.
David removed the packing material and carefully lifted out the carved wood. He’d put it in the front window so passersby could see it and smile.
As he walked out of the storage room and around the corner to the gallery carrying Ganesha, he saw a shadow. A big shadow. He stopped. No one had announced himself. He hadn’t heard the bell or any voices of customers. Almost as though someone had sneaked in quietly. He wished he hadn’t left his cell phone on the counter.
Probably being paranoid. He took a deep breath and rounded the corner.
Big, blond, and fucking mean.
Phil.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Phil flashed his nastiest grin. “Aren’t you happy to see me, David? Haven’t you been missing your big daddy?”
He couldn’t run. Didn’t seem to be able to move. “You know I’m not, and I have the restraining order to prove it.”
Phil frowned. “Yes, that. What a silly thing to do, but you always were silly, weren’t you, David? My silly little fairy boy.”
Phil was almost as tall as Gareth, but his middle was getting soft, and his skin showed the effects of dissipation. He took a step forward, his face growing redder. “Answer me, fairy boy. Wasn’t it a silly thing to do? Aren’t you going to go to the police department and have it lifted, tell them what a mistake you made?”
“No, I’m not, and if you so much as breathe on me, I’ll have you arrested.”
Phil’s eyes narrowed and teeth gritted. “I saw that asshole leave. Does he make you think you’re brave? You think you can replace me? Don’t make me laugh.”
David glanced around. Where could he run? “He has nothing to do with this. I took out the restraining order before I met him. I want you gone, Phil, or I’ll call the cops.”
“Doubt you’ll be doing much complaining if you can’t talk, fairy boy.” His hands tightened into fists, and David’s face hurt just looking at them.
David took a step back. “Get the hell away from me.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t had a good beating in months. That’s why you’re such a wiseass. You always did like a little discipline, didn’t you? About time you get what you need.” He lunged.
David sidestepped and hurled the large wooden statue at Phil’s red face, hitting him in the forehead. Blood gushed. The statue hit the floor, and Phil howled as he grabbed his head. Despite the gusher, he gripped David’s forearm and raised a bloody hand.
A powerful slap knocked David’s head aside. Pain flashed up his neck.
Stars. Christ, he actually saw them. Heat radiated from his cheek as he tried to rip his arm from Phil’s iron hold. Phil raised his hand again. This time, a fist. David saw the arm descending and jerked away to avoid it. Twisting frantically, he watched the fist coming toward his head but couldn’t get far enough away. He braced for the pain, when—
It was gone. The grip on his arm released, and the big body went flying through the air. David slipped in a patch of blood and hit the floor, striking his head on the polished concrete. There were those crappy stars again.
Noise, yelling, some of it with a distinct Aussie accent.
Gareth must have come back. Thank God.
Had David said he didn’t need help? Shit. He needed all the help he could get.
Hurting in every limb, he gathered himself up and started to stand. A big hand took his arm and hauled him to his feet. He turned to flash his smile at….
Edge.
Holy shit. David froze. Out of the frying pan into the fire. Had the guy saved him from Phil just so he could finish the job?
David pulled his arm from Edge’s grip. “I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“I don’t understand why you’re here. Why you saved me from being beaten or killed when I’d think that was the thing you most wanted to do yourself. I don’t understand.”
The deep blue eyes stared at him steadily. No emotion. No expression. “Neither do I.” He wrapped a hand around David’s neck.
Crap, he was going to be strangled. David turned his head and tried to get away, but if he’d thought Phil was strong, now he knew better. He pulled back frantically, but the power in that hand was relentless.
Shit! Edge moved closer, hand tight
ening, and suddenly shoved his mouth over David’s.
David’s lips were parted in struggle, and Edge’s closed lips pressed against his teeth. David remained still, afraid to fight because it might set the guy off. So he stood, lip-locked with Edge, held there by a powerful hand. Edge also seemed motionless, as if he were shocked by the unexpected situation.
Then gradually, to David’s amazement, those tight closed lips started to open and a warm tongue slipped out and, ever so tentatively, licked against David’s mouth. Once, twice, then it slid between David’s teeth and touched his tongue. A soft whimper came from Edge’s throat. He opened his lips and pressed his tongue farther into David’s mouth.
David knew he should pull back. This was insane, but the pure amazement of being kissed by the homophobe kept him in place. And Edge’s kiss felt strangely good, so he opened his mouth a little and let his tongue play against Edge’s.
Edge’s whimper became a full-on moan, and another strong arm dragged David snugly to that huge, powerful, Goliath body. Holy shit, the man was hard. Harder than hard. His hips pressed tight against David’s abdomen and rocked enough to make it very clear what that cock would like to be doing. David must have slipped into Neverland. Either that or he was in the embrace of the world’s most closeted Australian queer.
GARETH TRIED to run down the sidewalk, but the summer crowds thwarted him. From the intersection of the Coast Highway a block away, he’d seen a body come hurtling out of what he thought might be the gallery. Or maybe the shop next door, but he didn’t want to take any chances. The guy had hit the sidewalk, nearly taking a couple of tourists with him, then had quickly gotten to his feet, brushed himself off, and hurried away with a slight limp, showing how hard he must have hit that pavement. What the bloody hell was going on?
When he was a few doors from the gallery, Gareth saw another body come flying out the door, this one more under its own power. Edge’s bright blond crew cut shone in the sunlight. Goddamn! Gareth pushed past a couple walking a dog, nearly tripped on the leash, but managed to put himself in Edge’s path.
Edge didn’t see Gareth, he was staring so hard at the ground. What the fuck? Was he crying?
Gareth grabbed Edge by his shoulders and his powerful paws came up ready to fight. “Whoa, Edge. Stop, it’s me.”
When Edge looked up, Gareth gasped at the pure pain on his face. “What’s the matter? Were you in the gallery?” His hands tightened. “Is David all right? You didn’t do anything to him?”
Edge didn’t answer, just shook his head like a cow or something.
Gareth pulled him firmly by the arm and started dragging him back to the gallery. “Come on.” Under ordinary circumstances Edge was stronger than Gareth. He outweighed him by twenty pounds and had a longer reach, but not today. Afraid, angry, Gareth hauled Edge, only mildly protesting, back into the gallery. He closed the door behind him.
David was standing in the back of the store, staring into space, and he looked mussed, his shirt pulled out and torn. A wooden statue of some kind lay against the wall.
Still dragging Edge, Gareth moved toward David. “Are you all right, love? Did he hurt you? If he did, I’ll—”
David looked up and seemed to click into the situation. “No, no. He didn’t hurt me. He saved me. Phil came in and tried to beat me up, and Edge threw him out of the store. He saved me.”
Gareth put an arm around a shaking David and looked at Edge, still staring at the ground. “Well, that’s all right, then. Are you okay, love, really?”
David nodded but was oddly focused on Edge. Something else was sure as shit happening. Gareth asked, “Okay, what’s going on?” He looked at David, who looked at Edge, who looked at the ground. Gareth tried again. “Someone tell me what’s up here, because it sure as hell isn’t that Edge is the big hero.”
Edge pulled his arm from Gareth’s tight hold. “Fuck it. Fuck you both.” He turned like a crazed lion and ran from the store.
Chapter Ten
GARETH STARED at the retreating back of his former best friend. What the hell? When Edge ran out the door, he left it open, and that in turn opened the floodgates of concerned friends and curious looky-loos. JJ was first in the door, and he ran full speed to David, reminding every observer that he might look like an athlete, but he ran like Tinker Bell.
“Oh my God, David, what happened? Did I see Phil running down the street? Did he hurt you?”
David wiped his face on his forearm. “He sure as hell tried. Will you please call the police, JJ? I’m filing a complaint on that asshole.”
JJ grabbed Gareth’s arm. “Thank you for saving David. Oh my God, you’re so brave. Phil is mean as piss.”
Gareth started to say something, but David shook his head a little. Okay, they’d deal with this in a while.
The police arrived a few minutes later and took David’s statement. The detective named Simpson turned to Gareth. “And you intervened, Mr. Marshall?”
“Uh, no, I arrived after the incident. It was my volleyball partner, John Edgerton, who stopped the man from hitting David.”
The detective looked around. “Where is he?”
“He ran out shortly afterward. I think he felt uncomfortable that we were calling him heroic.” Or something like that.
“Do you know where he is now?”
“No.”
“Do you know how we can reach him? If we only have Mr. Underwood’s statement as to what occurred, it’s harder to prove.”
“I can try to call him.”
“If you would, please.”
Gareth turned to David, who sat huddled in a chair at the back of the store. JJ was taking care of interested people who were covering their curiosity by shopping. “I’ll go call him.” He waved toward the front of the shop.
David gave him big eyes but nodded.
Damn, I wish we’d been able to talk more before everyone else rushed in. He walked toward the front of the store and dialed Edge’s number. Would he even answer?
One ring. Two. Three.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Edge, it’s Gareth.”
“Yeh. I know.”
“Look, we called the police on the guy who tried to hit David. They need you to give a statement so it doesn’t turn into his word against the asshole’s.”
Silence.
“Come on, John. We need you here.”
“What’d he tell you?”
“He told me nothing. Zip shit. We’ve been dealing with police and crap since you ran out. You gotta do this.”
“Gotta do nothing.”
“Sorry, man, but they might come looking for you at the airport or something.” That didn’t seem likely for a so-called domestic dispute, but did Edge know that?
“Bull.” But that didn’t sound like disbelief, just frustration.
“What shall I tell them? Where are you?”
“None of your business.”
“You want to go to the police station? It’s right at the end of the street the gallery’s on.”
“Yeh. Okay. I’ll go there.”
“When shall I tell the detective you’ll be there?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Thanks. The same street, right?”
“Yeh, yeh. That’s what I get for being a Good Samaritan. Next time, I’ll let him suffer.” He hung up.
Gareth ground his teeth as he stared at the phone. Asshole. Then he snorted. Kind of funny, though. Next time. He walked back to the detective. “He says he’ll be at the police station in fifteen minutes.”
The cop looked at his watch. “Good. Thank you for your help.”
“Can I take David home now?”
“Yes. Just don’t go anywhere, Mr. Underwood.”
David rose from the chair looking like every bone hurt. “Where would I go? I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
Simpson frowned. “You sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital and get checked out?”
“No. I got slapped and I hit my head
, but it wasn’t any worse than I’ve had in the past, thanks to Edge. If Phil had connected with that fist, I’m sure it would be a different story.”
“Hopefully we’ll be able to assure he doesn’t go around abusing anyone else.”
David sighed. “That would be good.”
Gareth put an arm around David’s waist and walked him toward the door. “Want to stay here and I’ll go get one of the cars?”
David shook his head. “I can walk.”
Heading out into the sunshine, they walked down Forest to PCH, and then started climbing the hill to David’s cottage in North Laguna. Once they got out of the center of town, David reached for Gareth’s hand, and they ambled with their fingers linked. It felt just right—except that David was thinking really hard.
Gareth tried to sound casual. “So, you want to tell me what happened?”
“Okay.”
Silence.
“Uh, so tell me.”
“I’m trying to sort it out in my brain. I came out of the back carrying the Ganesha statue. I saw a shadow, but it was all silent, which made me wary. Of course, Phil was waiting. We exchanged words, I threw the statue at him, but he grabbed me and slapped me. I saw his fist coming at my head—and then he was just gone, like flying through the air. I was on the floor against the wall, and I heard an Aussie accent. I thought it was you for a minute.”
“Wish it had been me, love. I’m so sorry.”
David was so deep in his story, he didn’t seem to hear. “Phil looked scared and ran, and a hand pulled me up, and I was staring at Edge. Jesus, I was so frightened. I thought he was going to finish the job. I asked why he’d done it. Why he saved me. He said he didn’t know.”
“What happened then?”
“He kissed me.”
“What? What the fuck?”
“I was so shocked, I let him.” He stopped walking and stared into space. “And then I guess I kind of helped him.”
