Mannies Incorporated

by Michael, Sean

  "It was the part after that," he replied drily.

  "I… Dude, I was coming. Coming and not using my own hand."

  He shook his head. "Never mind." He must have heard wrong. Slayde knew he was gay now, right?

  "Okay." Slayde blinked, looking confused, dazed.

  This thinking and talking shit was for the birds. He pressed their lips back together again. This he could handle. In fact, he thought he could just kiss Slayde for days.

  He rolled, putting Slayde beneath him, making sure their mouths stayed together. Oh, sweet fuck. Feel that. Slayde was pure sex, total heat. Drake's prick was coming back, big time. He didn't think, he just drove down, moved against Slayde. His prick slid on Slayde's belly, the feeling like magic.

  Slayde moaned for him and it was like he could taste it. He rolled, rocked, moving on Slayde like he was fucking that sweet belly.

  "Hot bastard."

  He bit at Slayde's bottom lip. No talking. No talking, no thinking, just fucking. Oh. Fucking. His cock leapt. He could take that sweet, taut ass.

  "You got stuff?" He had to ask. He had to know.

  "Stuff. Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes, I do."

  "Get it."

  "You're on top of me," Slayde pointed out.

  He grunted. It figured Slayde would have all the details. He rolled off. "Get it," he repeated.

  "Bossy butthead." Slayde chuckled, but slipped from the bed, over to unlock a wooden box.

  He watched that tight little ass, admiring it. He heard things rattling, then a string of rubbers and a tube of slick landed on the bed.

  "You've got a noisy box of stuff."

  "It's my personal stuff."

  "Hey, I didn't ask for a show and tell." He wasn't being nosy.

  "I didn't…" Slayde sighed, rubbed his forehead, winced. "Look, I'm sorry."

  "I don't think there should be apologies during sex." It kind of ruined the mood, didn't it? At the very least it made him start thinking again and he didn't think that was a good idea. He frowned, finally registering Slayde's wince. "Are your hands okay?"

  "They're sore." Slayde came to him, sat. "I don't think there should be apologies during sex, either. Or deep discussions. Or lots of thought."

  "Then we're on the same page." He cupped Slayde's cheek and tilted the man's head slightly, taking another kiss.

  He eased Slayde down on the bed, careful of those hands, just keeping the kisses steady, needy. The mood didn't take that long to come back, his prick hardening back up as they kissed. God, the man was like a drug, and Drake didn't think it was because he was desperate. He'd gotten off now, this was just…pleasure and need and so very fucking good.

  He spread Slayde's legs, settling between them and rocking.

  "Have you done this before?"

  Had he what? "Of course." He wasn't a fucking virgin.

  "Oh. Cool." Slayde nuzzled his jaw, hips rolling a little faster.

  "Have you?" Not everybody fucked, especially on one night stands and for all he knew, Slayde had never had anyone steady, just like he never had.

  "Uh-huh. I've known what I liked for a long time."

  "Like I haven't." Since he was fucking thirteen and knew his old man would beat the shit out of him if he was ever found out.

  "Hmm?" Slayde looked confused for a second, then went back to chasing his lips.

  God, Slayde was weird. Like really. Still, given the way the man kissed, Drake would take weird. Hell, Drake would wallow in weird.

  He felt around the bed for the lube, his prick telling him to get on with the prepping already. His fingers wrapped around the tube, and he slicked his fingers. Shifting, he supported himself on one hand and slid his fingers behind Slayde's balls. Oh, fuck, hot.

  "You've got big hands."

  "Don't make me start with big bad wolf jokes."

  "I've already blown your house down."

  He groaned. "You need to shut up now." To that end, he covered Slayde's lips with his own.

  Slayde's laughter pushed right into the kiss. He took it in, his finger sliding into Slayde's body.

  Oh, damn. The man was tight, gripping his finger, and he wanted in, wanted to feel Slayde, every inch. He fucked Slayde with his finger for a few strokes before working a second finger in. The man seemed even tighter and Drake moaned, pushing deep to hit that little spot…

  "Fuck…" Slayde rolled up, shoulders leaving the mattress.

  He grinned. Yeah, go him. He nudged that spot again.

  "There. Right there, man. Please."

  He didn't need to be told twice. He kept pegging Slayde's gland each time he pushed his fingers into Slayde's body. His own cock was leaking again, wanting where his fingers were so badly.

  "Please." Fuck, Slayde was beautiful. Fucking stunning, lips open, cheeks flushed.

  He jammed a third finger in, too keyed up for finesse. At least it was slick.

  "S…soon. Soon, man. Please."

  "Wait for me, man." He wanted inside before Slayde came. He wanted to feel that all around him.

  Slayde nodded, swallowing hard. "I will."

  Pulling his fingers out, he gloved up, slicked up, and settled between Slayde's legs. Slayde spread, eager and open, as wanton as anyone he'd ever met. He guided his prick in, eyes watching as it pressed against that tiny hole. Slayde's body spread, stretched for him, taking him in. Slayde was so tight around him, so fucking hot and he moaned, sinking in deeper and deeper.

  "Oh, sweet Jesus, you're so fucking thick."

  "And you're so damn hot." Slayde was the fucking hottest thing ever. Like a fire around his prick.

  He got a nod and Slayde pushed up, driving onto him.

  "Fuck." He pulled partway out and slammed in deep again.

  Slayde's lips formed an "O" and not a single sound slipped out. So he did it again. Then Slayde's fingers found his shoulders and the man met the next thrust.

  "Fuck." He moved harder and faster, trusting that Slayde was right there with him.

  The bedsprings creaked and groaned, singing as they rutted. He'd never felt anything so good. When he brought their mouths together and they kissed again, while fucking, it nearly blew his mind.

  Slayde's body rippled around his prick, milking him, tugging at him. He managed to get a hand around Slayde's cock. It only took that touch, that single fucking touch before Slayde shot, spunk spraying on his fingers. The smell of it, and the way Slayde's body rippled all around his prick, pulled his own orgasm out of him.

  He rested there afterward, buried in Slayde, staring down. Damn. So very fucking good. He collapsed onto Slayde, panting. Slayde held on to him, almost rocking him.

  Drake reached down, grabbing the condom as he pulled out. He mourned the loss of that sweet sheath. Groaning, he looked around for somewhere to dispose of the condom and he was hit again by the exploded thrift shop nature of Slayde's room. Crazy. You'd never think it, looking at the man in the house.

  He found a garbage can and managed to toss the tied-off condom into it, then rolled off Slayde onto the mattress. It was a little awkward now, not knowing what to say, what to do. This was where he usually ducked out, his hook-up just as happy to have him disappear as he was to go.

  Of course, here he was going to what? Go across the hall? He opened his mouth a few times, but he didn't know what to say.

  Slayde chuckled. "It's a little weird, huh?"

  He snorted. "Make that a lot and you're right."

  "Yeah. I… It was good."

  "I'm better than just good." He puffed up a little, more playing than really growly.

  Slayde's laughter was warm, genuine. "Yeah. Yeah, you were."

  It made him feel good, having Slayde agree with him on that particular point. He patted Slayde's hip.

  "I'm hungry." Slayde blinked, then grinned. "Like genuinely."

  "We sorta skipped supper." There was all that take-out in the living room. "I could go get it."

  "That would be cool. We could…share."

  He patted Sl
ayde's hip, the movement a little less awkward this time, then got up and grabbed his underwear, slipping it on before running downstairs to grab the take-out boxes. By the time he got back upstairs, Slayde had a spot cleared for the food, an action-adventure film on his little TV.

  Drake handed over one of the boxes and a fork, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to Slayde with one of the other boxes. He had to admit, slinking off after a quickie with a one-night stand had nothing on this.

  It didn't take long for Slayde to slow down, start leaning against him, blinking slowly. Drake hesitated a long time, but when he was done eating, he put his arm around Slayde's shoulders. Slayde sighed softly, hummed and snuggled.

  Drake sat there, amazed at himself for enjoying this, at the situation to start with. He didn't move, though. Amazed or not, he was enjoying it. A lot.

  Chapter Seven

  Slayde woke up with the scent of Chinese food in the air and his body sore like he'd been well-fucked. Whoa. A low groan sounded in his ear and something big and warm shifted, pressed closer.

  Oh, God.

  He looked at the clock, then at the bedroom door. Early and locked. Thank God. Drake shifted again, hot cock pressed hard against Slayde's hip.

  He shouldn't. He shouldn't have yesterday. Slayde did, though, fingers wrapping around Drake's cock. Drake's low moan filled the room, the man still asleep.

  Slayde hummed, let his fingers explore, up and down. Drake's eyes snapped open and a hand landed on his wrist, tight, hard. Then Drake took a breath, relaxing, hand sliding away from his.

  "Sorry. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Okay. Wow.

  "Sorry." Drake's voice was all sleep-husky. It was sexy. "Occupational hazard."

  "I bet. The kids are still asleep." He wanted to play, one more time.

  "You don't have to stop," Drake told him, pressing closer.

  "Oh, good." He moved a little faster, learning every inch of that sweet cock in the daylight.

  Drake's eyes fell halfway closed, a low moan coming out of him. "Never…"

  "Shh." He licked Drake's jaw.

  Moaning, Drake bent his face so their mouths met, the kiss slow and lazy and sleepy. Oh, fuck. He loved this, being able to be lazy, easy in his skin.

  Drake pressed even closer, almost rolling over him, one sweet kiss after another shared between them. His body was burning, his hips starting to rock, push against Drake's strength. One of Drake's hands slid slowly down his body, a tease on its way to his cock. His prick jerked, bobbed and…

  "Uncle Slayde! Uncle Slayde, good morning!" His doorknob rattled and he groaned. Damn it.

  "Good morning, Christian. Don't wake up your sisters."

  Drake had frozen, gone just utterly still.

  "Okay. Can we have oats for breakfast?"

  "We can." Go on, kiddo, so I can get some pants on. He didn't have to worry about still being hard. That little voice was like ice water. He got up and searched for his robe.

  "Yay! Gonna tell Uncle Drake!"

  "Fuck," muttered Drake.

  "Shh." He winked and peered out the door, his robe wrapped around him. "Let Uncle Drake sleep."

  Christian pouted, shoulders slumping.

  "Go down and start the TV and then you can help me make the cinnamon toast."

  "Okay." Christian took off at a run.

  Behind him, Drake groaned.

  "Okay, that's dealt with." He grabbed pants, tugging them on. "You're welcome to stay in here, if you want."

  "I don't think I'll press my luck." Drake slipped out from under the covers and God, the man was sheer stud.

  "Okay." He couldn't help looking.

  Drew bent and picked up his clothes, offering him a fine view of that ass. He reached out, fingers just barely touching. Drake jumped, then looked back at him, eyes wide.

  "Sorry. It was right there." And perfect.

  "Just surprised me," muttered Drake.

  "I get that." He nodded, grinned. "I'll go start breakfast."

  "I'll come down in a bit." Drake had his underwear and T-shirt on, his pants in hand as he slipped out the door and across the hall.

  Slayde headed down, whistling under his breath. Oats, toast, then Jenny would be ready to come down.

  He was nearly done when Drake came down, Maggie's hand in his. "Look who I found in the hall."

  "Good morning! I'm making oats."

  Maggie led Drake to the kitchen table and tugged on his arm. When he sat, she climbed up into his lap and held on to his shirt with one hand, putting the thumb of the other one into her mouth.

  "You've made a friend, Uncle Drake."

  "I know." Drake's smiled at him, looking like he'd been just given a million dollars.

  "Coffee?"

  "Sure. You want coffee, too, Maggie?" Drake asked. She just looked at him. He laughed. "I'm taking that as a no."

  "Milk."

  Jenny began to cry, the sound panicked, wild. She was still waking up hard from the medicine.

  "Coming, baby!" Slayde sprinted up the stairs.

  She held her arms out to him, hands opening and closing, her cry turning angry now that she saw him.

  "I know, right? You slept late." He picked her up and took her to the changing table. "Are you feeling better?"

  Her cries subsided and she took a few hiccupping breaths as he changed her out of her Pull-Ups.

  "There. There. Sweet girl." The swelling was better, the blisters healing. He got her dressed and picked her up and she leaned against him, peaceful now. "Sweet baby girl. Uncle Slayde loves you so much. Let's have breakfast."

  "Bekfast!"

  Drake had set the table and was helping Christian pour the orange juice. The oats were cooking and he put the cinnamon toast in the oven and offered Jenny a sippy cup. He thought he could feel Drake's eyes on him, but whenever he looked, Drake was looking anywhere but at him.

  Soon he was in the rhythm of morning. Coffee. Oatmeal. Toast. Juice. Answering emails on his tablet. Drake played with Maggie and at some point took Jenny from him, bouncing a girl on either knee and all was fairly peaceful as they ate.

  Then the kids went to play, Slayde started doing dishes, and Drake…stared at him.

  "Are your hands okay to be doing that?" Drake finally asked, breaking the silence.

  He looked down at them, the blisters ugly and awful. "I hope so."

  Drake made this growling noise and got up, pushed him away from the sink. "I'll do the dishes."

  "You don't have to. It's okay."

  "You're hurt -- why shouldn't I?"

  It wasn't like Slayde was trying to shirk out of working or anything and Drake was being insistent. "Thank you." Slayde nodded. "You're a good guy, no matter what they say about you." No wonder Mindy was so close to the man despite not seeing a lot of him.

  Drake only snorted. "I don't know. Probably some of what they say is true." Drake gave him a grin, letting him know the man was teasing. "Especially if it's Mindy doing the saying."

  "She says you two were fast friends, when you were little."

  "We were." Drake grinned, looking suddenly lost in memory.

  'That's cool. My family and me, we're all busy living our lives, you know? We email a lot, phone, but things are always crazy."

  "Mindy and I keep in touch more or less but we kind of became… I don't know, less close, when she got married."

  "Isn't that common? I mean, you have a life, so does she."

  "Yeah, I suppose. I hadn't realized just how far we'd drifted, though, 'til I came and realized the kids hardly knew me."

  "So how did you end up in California?"

  "Once Mindy signed up, I wanted to get far away from my father and there were job openings there, so it fit the bill."

  "She…uh…she doesn't talk about him much." He knew it had been ugly. He knew.

  Drake nodded. "He's not worth talking about. I waited 'til she got out before going, though. I did."

  "I'm sorry. You ought to meet my folks some time. They'll be
here on the Fourth, to see the kids." His parents adored Mindy, her children.

  Drake frowned at him. "Don't you mean to see you?"

  Slayde cackled. They loved him, but grandchildren -- and they'd adopted Mindy's broods like they were their own -- were vastly more interesting. "Oh, of course. Right. Me. They want to play with the babies. There's a zoo trip, fireworks. They're stoked."

  "But they aren't their grandkids." Drake didn't look like he was being mean, just confused.

  "Oh, God. Don't say that to Mindy. Poppy and Nana are well-loved here."

  Drake shook his head. "Whatever."

  Okay, that was just rude. "They love those kids, they visit twice a year, they send presents."

  "But they aren't their grandkids."

  "Why not?"

  "Because you're not their father."

  "I know that." He'd never once suggested he was. Not once.

  Drake shrugged. "I just don't get it, but I don't want to get in an argument with you about it."

  "Okay." There wasn't anything to argue about, was there? He hadn't decided to have his folks treated like grandparents.

  Drake finished up the dishes. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

  "Same old same old. We'll have to grocery shop at some point and possibly do some crafts."

  "Crafts?" Drake managed to make it sound like a dirty word.

  "Yeah. Something to mail to Mindy." He looked over, the sneaking suspicion that Drake was really pissed off at him getting stronger, second by second.

  "Stuff to send to Mindy… I'm guessing you've got specific stuff in mind and already have everything ready to be magically whipped out."

  His cheeks heated and he suddenly, weirdly ashamed, which was stupid, because this was his livelihood, entertaining and caring for and raising these kids.

  "We have cards and sand art things. I'm going to check on the kids." He headed into the playroom, watching the kids play what looked like cook the baby in the play kitchen oven.

  Drake joined him. "How often do you send stuff to Mindy?"

  "Once a month I send a care package." He knew that she got lonely and that there were things she needed. "I send cards once a week."

  "That's cool. What kind of stuff do you send?"

  "Marshmallows, Reese's. Sunscreen. Toilet paper. Chapstick, Slim Jims, Via from Starbucks. Books. Froot Loops." He had a huge list.