Long Haul- The Complete Series Bundle

by Harper Logan

  Adrian slipped his free hand down between Chandler’s legs and gently massaged his balls as he continued to stroke his length. Then he felt Chandler’s hand slip in between their bodies, taking a hold of him, and they massaged each other’s cocks in unison like that. Adrian loved the way Chandler’s wet skin felt against his, the way he could feel all of him against him, warm and slick.

  “Fuck, that feels good,” Chandler groaned, and then he turned around and pushed Adrian down to his knees in front of him.

  Adrian looked up at him, and the water poured down over his head like a rainstorm. Chandler’s cock hung tall and heavy, hanging over him, waiting for him. Water ran along its length, tracing the swollen veins and dripping from his tip. Adrian remembered back to a time in the army where, by some miracle, the two of them had the shower to themselves. He remembered a view much like this one—down on his knees, worshipping Chandler’s cock in front of him.

  He reached up and took him around the hilt, and then opened his mouth wide to accommodate him. He closed his eyes; water was getting into them. He sucked him down, gulping him as deep as possible. He felt Chandler’s hand take him by the hair, his finger pushing through wet locks. He bobbed his head, gagging on his length, doing everything he could to take all of him. He loved the struggle. He loved showing Chandler what he was willing to do for him. He played his tongue against his head, swirling around the soft skin and up and down the opening. Chandler’s legs shuddered, his grip tightened.

  “God damn,” he grunted.

  Adrian kept going, pausing only for gasps of breath. Saliva clung momentarily from the tip of Chandler’s cock, stretching from Adrian’s lips before being washed away by the falling water. He knew just how to please him. He knew Chandler’s cock as well as his own, and exactly what to do to make him come.

  Chandler let out a strained moan. “I’m gonna come.” Adrian felt his cock throb against his lips, and then tasted him on his tongue. He swallowed everything that he gave him, every delicious drop. Then Chandler helped him up to his feet and kissed him deeply, their tongues meeting and playing.

  “You’ve still got this,” Chandler said, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of him.

  “Uh huh,” Adrian murmured.

  Chandler leaned in and spoke softly into Adrian’s ear, like he was telling a secret. “You, uh, wanna use it on me?”

  “What’re you talking about, Chandler Longman?” Adrian asked. “Be more clear.”

  “I mean, you wanna give it to me? I’ll take it.”

  Adrian was surprised. Chandler didn’t offer to catch very often—and not that he minded. He liked getting it from Chandler. But this was a treat he wasn’t going to say no to.

  “Turn that fine ass around,” Adrian said, with a grin. Chandler did, pressing his hands against the wall and pushing his ass out. Adrian shut the water off and grabbed a bottle of lube from the counter drawer. He quickly spread some onto Chandler’s opening and then some onto his cock. “You ready?”

  “Don’t ask, just fuck me.”

  Adrian spread Chandler’s cheeks with a push of his palm, and then gripped the hilt of his cock and pressed up against his hole. Chandler groaned and hung his head as Adrian slowly pushed into him. He was tight, and wasn’t used to being penetrated by more than a few fingers, but he also wasn’t a stranger to pain. Adrian knew he could take it, and knew Chandler would be pissed if he worried over him or went too gently.

  He slid in, inch by inch. Chandler balled up his fist and held himself back from pounding it against the shower wall. Too loud, it might wake up April. Adrian bit his lip as he made it to the hilt. He could feel Chandler’s tightness quivering around him, holding him there. He took hold of his hip, and then started to rock in and out.

  “Ah, fuck!” Chandler grunted. “Fuck, fuck.”

  “Goddamn, that feels good,” Adrian muttered. “Shit.”

  It’d really been a long while since he’d last fucked Chandler. Getting it from him felt incredible—Chandler knew exactly how to fuck him so that he could come from being penetrated, but this was something else. He was in control, now.

  “Harder,” Chandler growled. “C’mon.”

  Adrian obliged. He moved his hips faster, slamming in harder until the bathroom filled with the echoing clap of wet skin on skin. Chandler bit into his forearm and moaned. Adrian was barely in control. Every thrust sent his eyes fluttering back, and the edge hurtling ever closer. He grabbed Chandler’s shoulder for more leverage, holding on to his chiseled muscle like a rock climber on a wall. He bit his lip, straining, flexing, feeling the oncoming finish.

  “Oh god, I’m gonna fuckin’ come!”

  He slammed in all the way as the wave of climax hit him, sending a soaring explosion of fireworks through his body. His cock throbbed inside of Chandler, pulsing with each wave of the orgasm until it felt like he was completely drained. All he could do was hold on for dear life. Slowly, he withdrew from him. His ears were ringing, and he saw stars.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, and Chandler turned around and took him into his arms. “That felt so good.”

  “Yeah,” Chandler said and kissed him. “My ass is gonna be sore tomorrow.”

  The both of them laughed, and Adrian kissed him again, holding his face in his hands. “I love you,” he said.

  Chandler smiled, his forehead pressed against his. “I love you too.”

  5

  That Saturday, Adrian took April out with him to do some last-minute Christmas shopping to buy some last-minute presents for her teacher and classmates down at the Riverwalk, and Chandler agreed to meet them there that evening after closing up the garage. Secretly, he was glad to avoid having to go along. Being dragged in and out of crowded stores was not his idea of a good time. Thankfully, Adrian was the opposite of him and found energy in those situations.

  It was just him at the shop—both Lexie and Douglas had the weekends off. He did enjoy the occasional day of solitude like this one, where he could just be alone to concentrate on the work at hand. It was like a meditation, and right now, he really needed it. There was just a week until Christmas, and his quest for the Duster had come to a grinding halt. He’d been so stubbornly determined that he would be able to find it, that he hadn’t even considered what he’d do if he couldn’t. The whole thing had really been stressing him out, and the worst part was that he’d been suffering in silence. Lexie knew about his plan, but he couldn’t talk to her about it at work with Adrian there, and he hardly saw her outside of the shop because of how busy things were at home. Also, Lexie had recently started getting back into the dating game, so her free time was occupied. Douglas also knew about the car, but there was no way Chandler would feel comfortable ranting to the old man about his problems. Hell, sometimes he still had a hard time opening up to Adrian about things.

  The night before had been the first snow of the season. The garage was located outside of the city, in a more rural area that had been home to large factories a century ago. Now, most of the old warehouses had been either demolished, leaving large plots of open field strewn with old brick, or turned into business and housing development. Next to their garage was one of those open fields, and it was covered in a blanket of fresh snow.

  Chandler cleaned the snow off of a Subaru station wagon and pulled it into the garage, putting it up on the jack so that he could get to the oil pan. He’d always been the kind of man who liked working with his hands. Autoshop and woodshop had been the only two classes he excelled in during high school, and in the army, he spent some time working on armored vehicles before being transferred into Adrian’s platoon. He enjoyed the simplicity of being a mechanic, too. At the end of the day, each car was basically the same, with parts that all did pretty much the same thing, working with each other in more or less the same way. He could understand how it all fit together. It was easy. Repeatable. People were less easy, and he was thankful for the connection that he and Adrian shared. Where some might’ve taken Chandler’s stoic and quiet na
ture as being uncaring, Adrian knew the kind of man he was. He knew his moods and his feelings. They both just got one another.

  His cell phone buzzed inside his pocket, and he grabbed a rag off the hood of the car and wiped the grease from his hands. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately, his heart kicking up. He’d been waiting for this call.

  “Chandler speaking,” he said.

  “Chandler, it’s David. I’ve got news for you. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Well, I did some deep digging, and found out some pretty crazy shit. The reason why none of the most recent registration info led to anything is because the name it was registered to isn’t even a real person.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The name that was used was a fake. But I looked further into the records and found out that the car was purchased by a company.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “Well, I’ve seen it a couple times. Usually it’s on account of some celebrity buying for his own personal collection, wanting to do it on the down low.”

  Chandler sank against the Subaru’s engine compartment. “So the car exists, but it’s owned by some rich guy. Yeah, I can see why this might not be the best news.”

  “Yeah. Well, at the very least, I’ve got the name of the company. Wufei Automotive. It’s a Chinese company that makes auto parts. So I did a quick Google search, and found out that the CEO has property in, yeah, you guessed it, New Hampshire. Wolfeboro.”

  “Damn, man. You’ve really gone above and beyond for me with this. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Nah, it’s nothing. It’s fun for me, you know? I like collecting intel. Just make sure nobody knows I’m doing this for you.” He laughed. “This is the end of the line, though. I was able to get this guy’s address, Lingtian Pang, through the public record. But finding a way to get in contact with him is up to you.”

  “That’s great, man. I’ll figure it out.”

  He grabbed a scrap of paper from the workbench and scrawled down the man’s name and address. Then he thanked David a second time before hanging up the phone.

  Sure, it was owned by some Chinese millionaire, but Chandler was just amazed that the car actually did still exist. Whether or not this was better than learning it was a piece of scrap sitting in someone’s backyard, he didn’t know. And what were the chances this man would even consider selling the Duster for an amount he could afford? Or selling it at all?

  Still, Chandler was determined. This was great news. If there was a chance he could get it, even if it was near impossible, he’d go for it.

  He closed the garage doors and locked the shop up before heading into the office to use the computer at Lexie’s desk. He opened up the browser and stared at the screen. He was not a fan of computers, and just could not get the hang of them. Before Adrian, he hadn’t even had a smartphone. Using his index fingers, he pecked in “Wufei Automotive” into the search bar, and clicked the search button.

  The company’s website came up, and Chandler stared blankly at the mess of Chinese characters. “Goddammit,” he grumbled, and after thirty minutes of clicking around he managed to find an English page, and on it, a phone number for the company’s U.S. offices. He picked up the office phone and dialed, and was greeted by an automated answering machine that proceeded to give him a history of the company. Chandler cursed and mashed the zero button on the phone. There was a click, a brief ringing, and then he was finally connected to a live operator.

  “Wufei Automotive, how may I direct your call?”

  “Yeah, can you, uh, put me through to a Mr.—” He paused and glanced down at the piece of scrap paper. “Fuwei Pang?”

  “I’m sorry? Who?”

  “Fuwei Pang.”

  There was a confused pause on the other end of the line. “Um, do you know which department the person you’re trying to reach is in?”

  “Christ. What department? Fuwei Pang, he’s the CEO of the company, ain’t he?”

  They laughed. “Oh. I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have any way of connecting you to the CEO.”

  “Well, could you get me someone who can?”

  “There’s no one who can do that here, sir. This is just the U.S. office. We handle the import of product for distribution. Do you have a complaint you need to file? Maybe if you tell me the nature of your call, I can connect you to the appropriate person.”

  “No, I just need to know how to get in touch with Mr. Pang.”

  “His e-mail is listed on the corporate website, sir. You can try to reach him that way.”

  Chandler gritted his teeth. “Alright. Thanks.” He dropped the phone into the receiver. “Shit.”

  His experience in the army told him that the only way to get things done was to reach out directly. An e-mail would be filtered out, lost among hundreds, if not thousands, of other e-mails. But how would we be able to reach this guy? Given enough time, maybe he would’ve been able to find a way to be put in touch with him, but there were only a few more days left…

  Chandler looked at the piece of paper on the desk. What he did have was the guy’s address—or at least one of his addresses. The question was if he actually lived there. If it was a vacation home, or something like that, the guy might be all the way in China. Chandler would’ve made the drive to Wolfeboro—it was only about two and a half hours away—but there would be no way he could do it without Adrian knowing. There was one final option, and it just so happened to be Chandler’s favorite way of communication.

  A hand-written letter.

  He finished locking up the shop and quickly drove home. He had a couple hours before he was due to meet Adrian and April at the Riverwalk, and it might be the only chance he had to do it before it was too late.

  He was working on faith. Faith that this man would get the letter, and that he would read it. Faith that he would care enough to even respond back. Faith that his words would somehow be enough to move him. Faith that the car was even still in his possession, in New Hampshire. It could’ve been shipped off to China, or somewhere else, years ago. He was moving blind. But he had to try, for his husband. He wrote and re-wrote the letter several times, taking care to explain the significance of the car. In the end, he felt he’d found the right words, but it still didn’t feel like it was enough. He needed something more.

  Chandler went to the living room and opened the photo album next to the couch, flipping to the old photograph of Adrian being held by his father next to the gorgeous azure muscle car. Gently, he pulled the photo out from the frame. He turned it around, and was surprised to see that something was written on the back.

  “To my son, Adrian,” he read. “Someday, you and I will drive her together. I love you so much. I can’t wait to see you grow. Love, Daddy.”

  He smiled, thinking of the stories Adrian told of his dad, and how much he loved the man. Chandler hadn’t had much of a relationship with his parents, so it was always nice to get that vicariously through Adrian. That love was the reason why he was doing this. He wrote his cell phone number and their home address on the bottom of the letter before slipping it and the photograph into an envelope. He knew it would be a huge risk, sending it. Adrian might never forgive him when he discovered the photo was gone. But there a feeling in his gut that told him he needed to include it, and that he would see the photo again. Maybe he was just operating on stubborn hope that would bite him in the ass, but he had to trust his intuition. It’d saved him before.

  After sealing it up, he went out to check and see if the mailman had already come by. If he had, he’d drop the letter off in a post box. He couldn't risk it sitting in their mailbox for a whole day.

  He opened the box, and found it occupied with the day’s mail. “Damn,” he muttered, pulling the small stack of letters out. He quickly flipped through them. Junk, junk, a Christmas card from April’s school, and a final envelope that was addressed to Adrian. He glanced curiously at the addressee, w
hich was “MWD USDHS” and a Department of Homeland Security stamp. He didn’t think much of it, and brought them inside and tossed them on the table before scooping up the keys to the truck and heading out to Riverwalk.

  After thirty minutes of navigating a packed, slush covered parking lot, Chandler headed down the line of shops towards the outdoor ice skating rink that had been set up in the center of the walk. He stopped at a post box and, after a moment’s pause and a quick prayer, slipped the letter inside.

  He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket to insulate them from the cold. Christmas music drifted through the air, and children stomped around in half-melted snow. Back in his tiny hometown, there was nothing this nice, or this festive. It all felt like something out of some perfect Christmas movie, where miracles brought families together just on time, and everyone got exactly what they wished for. Skaters slowly circled around the ice rink, like riders on a merry-go-round, and Chandler looked across the crowd for his husband and daughter.