Sex in the Sky

“[Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to a co-worker. Chad, if you ever happen to read this (which I seriously doubt) and figure out that you're the one I'm writing about, please don't hate me for the fantasy and please continue to be friends with me. It's just a fantasy that will never be acted out in our very happy yet separate, monogamous, straight lives with our own families. I know that we would both be devastated if the events described early in this story really happened; however, if they did, maybe this could be the story of how we become more than just friends as we rebuild our lives. For the rest of you reading this story, I apologize in advance for letting you know that this is a fantasy, since knowing this seems to destroy the story for some. But no matter who you are, my hope is that you will get drawn into the twists and turns of the story and completely forget about this particular paragraph.]“

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Prologue

I started with a mid-Atlantic company a few years ago. The company was small but growing enough each year that management finally had the resources and the need to build a new building. Unfortunately, in the move from the old building to the new building, all of us workers got demoted from our own quiet offices to some spot in a noisy cube farm. None of us liked the situation, but it was either put up with it or leave.

Shortly after we moved into our new building, Chad was hired by the manager of a nearby group. Although he sat only a row away from me, I never heard him in the office noise. He seemed to be quiet and shy. I noticed that he was a good worker: he was in on time each day (if not early), took a short lunch, and left work only after he had put in a full day. This was quite unlike a number of other people in the office, and I respected him for it. I also noticed one other thing: Chad was really good looking. He was one of those rare people whose face was perfectly formed and symmetrical, with a good jaw line for a nice-looking, rectangular front and side view, and with well-groomed, short brown hair that made him look athletic. He always wore loose clothing so I couldn’t really figure out what his body was like; however, I could tell that he had some fairly well developed shoulders under all that clothing. Although I could never get an accurate measurement, he seemed to be just under 6 feet tall, because his eyes were a little lower than mine if we stood to discuss something. To me, no matter which way you looked at Chad, he was just downright good looking.

Chad was also approachable and you could easily start a conversation with him. He also had a good sense of humor, but I quickly discovered that the humor wasn’t his second best feature: Chad’s second best feature was a bright “megawatt” smile that either made you weak in the knees or insanely jealous. Unfortunately for me, it was the former rather than the latter.

So how did I collect all these impressions about Chad? It was the only reason why I ever liked cube farms: when we moved in, Chad’s cube wasn’t quite finished so I got to catch glimpses of him whenever I went anywhere else in the building. As with every good situation, however, they finally finished Chad’s cube, so I didn’t get to see as much of him as I would have liked to. Damn cube farms.

As time went on, Chad became more involved with the people around his cube. I heard him every now and then, and I liked knowing that he was becoming popular. Of course, with his good looks and affable demeanor, he couldn’t help but be popular. Everyone liked Chad, and he genuinely seemed to like everyone else. He wasn’t a stuck-up snot like some of the other good looking (and not so good looking) men and women that I had to work with. Over a number of months, I got to work with Chad on a few projects, unfortunately not on a regular basis, but enough that I could get a better look at him. During our project working sessions, I noticed Chad’s eyes were a medium to dark blue depending on what he wore. They made me nervous and jittery, and I had to work pretty hard to control my reactions. Needless to say, I seemed to lose my concentration when working with Chad. I always hoped that I wouldn’t embarrass myself around him, but I’m sure there were some times when he thought my brain must have been scrambled or something close to that.

As part of a group from the office, we played some golf together. He was damn good, and when he got his slice under control, he put a large number of people to shame. Unfortunately for me, I was never much competition. Although I tried to keep myself from doing so, I was also able to observe Chad’s body during these games. He wasn’t flabby or anything like that, but obviously he didn’t work out and that made it easier on me. I didn’t work out either and it showed. I had loved life and life had rewarded me with a spare tire around the middle. The image I saw in the mirror always made me wish that I had turned down that extra slice of pizza and that second (or third) beer.

I wish I could have thought of Chad in a different manner but I seemed to be hooked on him from day one. He was one of those very few with good looks and who was also personable, genuinely interested in other people, and had a good sense of humor. In short, he was the complete package. He was one of the very few guys that got put on my “short list.” Being on my short list meant that, even though I was happily married, I’d jump into bed with him if he offered. Up to this point in my life, I had always thought of myself as straight, but with a few kinks, and Chad seemed to bring out that kinky side a little more each day. Unfortunately, about a year later, Chad got married, so I sadly had to remove him from the list because I knew it could never happen. I guess my list was destined to have only the two actors and one actress that had been on it before Chad came along.

Life continued rocking along as happily as it always had. My hair was beginning to turn a silvery gray around the temples and my wife was ever so jealous. She had always said that men got more distinguished and better looking with age. To her credit, however, she wasn’t aging at all. Into our early forties, her face had no wrinkles or lines and she kept herself in good shape, except for those few extra pounds she couldn’t get rid of after having two kids. We were set for the rest of our lives together. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how short our time together would really be.

One relatively warm April evening I was driving home from work wondering why the traffic in our section of the suburbs had been such a problem. Driving up to my house, I noticed a state trooper’s car parked in front. As I drove into the driveway, a couple of troopers got out of the car. To make a long story short, I found out from them that I was “suddenly single.” A drunk dump truck driver had fallen asleep, run a red light and taken out several cars. Unfortunately, my family was in the first car to be hit. Apparently none of them had suffered because of the force of the impact.

From that point forward, my emotions ran wild through hurt, pain, anger, despair, and, finally, loneliness. Life had become a disorienting mess. It was as if I had been transported to a part of the country I didn’t know, where everything was covered in a constant fog. There’s a little light but everything was still cold, damp, and not quite visible. And now I had to function without the lover, companion, and family that had been with me for the last fourteen years.

About a month after this ordeal began, Chad dropped by my cube, leaned in and said “Sorry to hear about your family.” I got a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, and I barely managed to croak out a “Thanks.” Although I don’t cry easily, that night I went home and cried the most that I had ever cried. When I realized it, not only was I finally grieving the major loss of my family, but I was also grieving the fact that I would never be able to get to know Chad better.

Over the next six months, I coasted through the lawsuits and work and my life in general. The bright, long days of summer kept me from becoming too depressed, but by the time October rolled around, those days were getting shorter and a full-fledged depression began to set in. Also, the change off Daylight Saving Time was about to happen, and I knew that less sunlight would probably send me over the edge. So I made major changes to my life. I sold the house because it had way too many memories and bought a large, top floor, three bedroom, two bath condo overlooking the upper end of the Chesapeake Bay. I also visited my family doctor and asked about anti-depressants. He said that he would prescribe some, but on one condition: I had to start a daily regimen of exercise and join a health club. Since I had always thought of health clubs, specifically the showers in health clubs, as “too public,” I purchased a treadmill and a weight machine and began to exercise at home. I still joined a health club that had a number of racquetball courts and began to relearn racquetball, but I only played there–I always took the showers at home. The health club is where I met Robert, an incredibly good-looking stud that was also a manager. Robert became a “close friend” and I enjoyed his company from time to time, but that’s a different story.

On the exercise program, I began to loose inches around my middle and began to add some muscles in my chest and back, an area that I had not been proud of for most of my life. I also began to get better definition in my leg and arm muscles. I say “began” because at my age it took a lot longer and a lot more effort to get everything looking like I wanted it to look. With the exercise and the anti-depressants, I got through the fall and winter months, especially those times around the holidays when you’re with extended family who all too often liked to remember what life was like before “the accident.” I didn’t make it through with flying colors, but I did make it through. I also got some unexpected help from Robert in that cold, snowy February around the time that would have been my wife’s birthday. Now I only had to get through the first anniversary of the accident.

I was muddling through April when I overhead someone in the next cube say that Chad was having problems in his marriage. Although I didn’t hear the whole story, apparently his wife wanted to move away to California and he wanted to stay. About two weeks later, I heard through the grapevine that she had filed for divorce and moved to California without him. I felt really sorry for Chad and wondered why anyone would treat him so stupidly. A couple of weeks later, when I finally saw him in his cube again, I stopped by, leaned in and said, “Sorry to hear about your marriage. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available.” The first look he gave me was something I had never seen from Chad before, and when I figured it out, I realized that I had hit a really sore point and he was pretty pissed that I had mentioned it. But the look quickly softened and he said “Thanks.” Based on his tone of voice, I knew he’d never take me up on it. After that short encounter, I realized that I still hadn’t learned the lesson that sometimes it’s just better to keep your mouth shut.

After work on a Monday in early June, Chad and I happened to be walking out to the parking lot at the same time. I asked him how it was going, and he replied with the standard “Okay.” We walked a little further in silence, and as I was about to say good-bye and turn to go to my car, Chad asked me where I had been working out. He and a few other people had noticed how I had changed and he was interested in doing the same thing. He also said that he needed to find a place to relieve some of the tension and frustration he was having with the divorce proceedings. I explained that I had my own exercise equipment but that I had also joined a health club that had good equipment and a lot of racquetball courts. He was disappointed that I had my own equipment but seemed interested in the club. When I suggested that he come to the club as my guest that coming Friday, he was tentative, but still accepted.

On Friday, I was excited about meeting Chad at the health club. We had planned to meet at 9pm, I’d show him around a while, and then he’d leave and I’d play my usual single-person game of racquetball from ten to eleven. I was genuinely interested in helping this guy find a place to relax through some exercise. Chad was right on time, and we got through the club quickly. I showed him around the areas I knew (racquetball courts and weight rooms) and then pointed to the other areas that I didn’t frequent (the showers). Once we had finished, we walked up to the front desk and I introduced him to Robert. On hearing Chad’s name, Robert looked over at me, flashed a quick grin, turned back to Chad and said “Jim’s mentioned you a couple of times. Glad to finally meet you.” They shook hands, and when Chad turned to look at me, I turned a bright red. “Robert and I play racquetball against each other sometimes, and I was hoping that I could get you to play sometime as well,” I responded, hoping that this would cover what I really had said to Robert about Chad. After Chad turned away, I shot a disapproving look back at Robert. Of course he ignored the look, but at least he changed the conversation to the features, benefits, and costs of a membership. After a minute, Robert looked at me and said with a grin, “You can go now. I’ll take it from here.” Chad added, with an even bigger grin and a chuckle, “I’m a big boy, you can leave now . . . Dad.” I laughed out loud and knew that it was meant as a joke, but I was still somewhat hurt by the comment. Yes, I was a fair amount older than Chad, but I wasn’t that old. As I walked away, Robert called out “You have court 7 tonight.” Ah, yes, Court 7 and all of its memories.

Monday morning couldn’t come quickly enough. When it did, I stopped by Chad’s cube to see what had happened after I left. With a somber look on his face, Chad told me that the entry and monthly fees were too much for him right now, but he’d keep it in mind later. I was disappointed, but an idea popped into my head. I asked him to come into a nearby conference room for a minute. He was wary for a moment, but hopefully I overcame his hesitance when I offered to pay for his first year on the condition that he play a racquetball game against me each week. He said he’d think about it, and that’s all I could ask for.

The next day Chad was in his cube and I didn’t bother him. I did happen to see him a couple of times in a nearby conference room having private phone conversations. Toward the end of the day, he came to my cube, plopped down in a chair, and quietly accepted my offer for a membership at the health club. He also muttered something about needing to draw a face on a racquetball and hit it really hard many, many times. I grinned and when he saw me, he blushed and said that he really didn’t mean it. I quietly and jokingly said, “Like hell you did.” He grinned back at me and laughed, and the sparkle in his eye acknowledged that I got what he meant. We discussed meeting times and found out that Friday evenings were convenient for both of us, especially since neither of us had much else of a life at this point. So we agreed to meet at the club that coming Friday to work out all the details.

That Friday, we met, got him signed into the club, and played our first game against each other. Although Chad was younger, I was better and beat him easily. But little did I know that this wouldn’t be the case for much longer. As a younger guy, he readily adapted to what little I really knew about the game, and he taught me some new moves as well. As we went through the summer, I realized that Chad’s body was slimming down in the waist and getting better defined through the chest, arms, and upper back. Because he was wearing shorts, I noticed that his leg muscles were getting larger and better defined, especially the large muscles on the fronts and backs his thighs. His legs also looked a hairier to me than before, but they had probably always been that hairy and I was just studying them more closely now. As I found out later, he had been to the club almost five nights every week since early June, and his body showed it. Now in late August, I found that I couldn’t play against him without getting some sort of “bedroom thoughts”. The perfect face finally had the perfect body to go with it. All I could think of was what a moron his ex-wife must have been.

The first Friday in early September, I noticed Chad’s game was off. Well, actually it was as if he weren’t even there. I won two games in about thirty minutes instead of the hour and a half, best 2-of-3 grudge matches that we usually played. On the way out to our cars that night, I asked if there was anything he wanted to talk about. He quietly said, “The divorce was final today.” Under the dim parking lot lights, I saw his eyes begin to glisten from the tears, and all I could say was “Sorry, bud.” He turned, put his hands on the top of his car, and leaned into them. It was then I noticed that he had begun to cry quietly. After a few seconds, I couldn’t help myself. I put a hand on his shoulder, slowly turned him around to face me, and pulled him into a hug with his arms over my shoulders and my arms around his middle. Holding him gently, I said “Let it go, bud. Let it go.” I was kind of surprised when he leaned into me and continued the quiet crying for another three or four minutes. During that time, a whole range of emotions flooded me. First there was anger that anyone would treat this great guy so shabbily. Then there was a sadness that he had to go through this. But the final emotion made me feel more guilty than I had in years. Because of the situation, I was glad that I had stood in such a way that only our upper bodies were touching. With the heat of his body against mine, the strength of the muscles in his back where I held him, and the touching that I had wanted to do for almost four years, my cock got the hardest it had been in some time. He was a good friend who really needed a shoulder to cry on, but I had violated that friendship by getting a hard-on. Geez, I felt so unworthy. Luckily for me, Chad never knew about it. Had he discovered it, he probably would have decked me right there and never spoken to me again. And at that point in my life, I needed his friendship way more than he needed mine, so I kept all those feelings to myself.

After the crying subsided, Chad slowly pushed away from me. His eyes still glistened from the tears, but he looked more relaxed than he had in a while. Maybe holding him and letting him get it out of his system was what he needed. He looked at how wet he had gotten the shoulder of my t-shirt and apologized. My response was “That’s what friends are for.” I paused for a couple of seconds, then made the wild ass comment, “Now go home, take a good shower, have a beer, jack off to some porn on the Internet, and get a good night’s sleep. You need it.” He looked surprised at my comment, but I reached over and ruffled the hair on his head and said, “Go. Get out of my sight and have some fun for a change.” He stared at me for about another five seconds as if he were going to ask a question, but then he told me “Good night”, got in his car and drove away. After I watched him turn the corner, I got into my car and pulled away. I was going to go home to do exactly what I had told him to do, but my porn tonight was going to have to be someone that looked as close to Chad as I could find.

During that early September, our friendship changed much for the better. I gave in to Chad’s requests and began working out with him at the club on weeknights. More than ever before, he started joking around, playfully punching me, and running into me in the racquetball court. Because of the change, my jack off sessions in the shower at home afterwards got more intense. Before I did anything stupid that would have damaged our friendship, my job forced me to go on travel for a couple of weeks.

After their meal, they spent the day lounging, talking, they even went to the park and revisited the places that they used to love so much when Tristan was alive. A time or two, tears would sparkle in Sam”s eyes, and Tristan would simply put an arm around his shoulder and tell him he understood. It was hard, but Sam would nod his head, and they would move on to the next place.

Words flowed like water, conversation and fragments of memories seeped into the two men as they enjoyed each others company, and before too long, it was growing dark, and children began to drift out of their homes, parents holding their hands, as they begged candy off of various houses.

They were driving around, in a moment of comfortable silence when Sam glanced up at his friend. “Hey… I think we should go to that party. I kinda wanna see Carolyn…” he said, and Tristan felt his heart plummet into the ground. It was such a sense of despair that met him, that for a moment he didn”t believe he could talk, so instead he just nodded.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by numerous friends all with beer in hand, some dressed in ridiculous costumes and playing music far to loud for anyone with any care for their ear drums. Josh always threw great Halloween parties. He even dug up his front lawn with numerous open graves.

Walking about, Sam introduced Tristan to friends he”d known for years, and they were non the wiser, either. It was a bit strange, as if his dearest friend wore some immaculate Halloween costume, one that fooled absolutely everyone but Sam. They drank, and talked, and had fun, but Tristan kept watching as Sam glanced around, looking for Carolyn, appearing slightly nervous, unsure. It wasn”t a good sign, not for Tristan.

Finally, after a couple hours, she swept into the room in all her glory. She came dressed as an oversexed witch. Long hair streaming behind her, with streaks of black, the clichéd witches hat, and a dress that didn”t leave much to the imagination. She spotted Sam right away, and moved towards him.

“Sam! You came!” she sounded happy about it, and Sam appeared unsure.

“Yea, we were just about to head out.” News to Tristan, who stood at his side and watched the encounter, trying not to make sarcastic comments about the cheating bitch of a woman who broke the heart of the man he was in love with.

“Oh… well… do you think maybe we could talk for a moment?” She asked, giving a look of insecurity. She was good at those. In fact, it was the reason she said she”d cheated on him. She just felt so bloody insecure. A shame, indeed, but still not a good enough reason.

“Sure,” Sam said, taking her arm and leading her to a quieter part of the house and seating her down on a little coffee table. Tristan followed, but hung back enough to give the impression of privacy while he eavesdropped.

Reaching out, Carolyn took Sam”s index finger and held it as if she were a small child, and he an intimidating adult. “Look, Sam… I miss you. I … I know I fucked up, but damnit… I just cant stop thinking of you. Every day, every day I think about how much you mean to me and I just cant let you go. I know its selfish, but could you find it in your heart to forgive me? I know. I know. I broke your heart and I don”t deserve a damned thing, but could you just… could you just think about it?” she took a deep breath, which made Tristan fear her breasts would pop out of that dress all together, and then let it out in a slow sigh, gazing mournfully up at the man who she”d dated for five years.

Sam seemed to ponder her words, and finally, he nodded. “I”ll think about it.” He said, pulling his hand free of her grip, then without another word, he turned and grabbed Tristan. “Lets get out of here.” He said, his voice sounding flat, emotionless. Tristan was concerned.

They left the party without much fanfare, in fact at the pace Sam was going Tristan was certain that any minute he might sprout wings and suddenly take flight. Instead of getting into the car, like Tristan thought he might do, he continued to walk towards the cemetery.

“You gonna take her back?” Trist asked experimentally, the first words spoken since leaving the party, and Carolyn, behind.

“I don”t know,” was all Sam would say, stepping through the gate of the cemetery and up onto the grassy little hill that lead to their favorite tree.

“I guess I could understand if you did, but I don”t like it.” Tristan said, following beside his friend and then running on ahead, beating him to the tree.

They sat down, backs to the old worn trunk, and gazed up at the stars. “Do you think that you”ll end up leaving?” Sam said, “Do you think you can accomplish what you set out to do?” he asked.

“I don”t know.” He said, “But lets focus on spending the last hours of our time together, If I have to leave, I want to feel good about being here with you.” Tristan whispered, heaving a soft sigh.

Suddenly, Sam turned to Tristan and shoved him so hard that he toppled over, giving a humph and a small shrieking sound. “What was that for?” He exclaimed, frowning pointedly at his friend.

“For dying. Fool.” Sam replied, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey, Trist? What”s it like having sex with a man? I”m curious. Is it true, about men having something like a G spot in their… you know?” Sam asked, and Tristan laughed, arching an eyebrow.

“Wanna find out?” He asked simply, wiggling his eyebrows at his dearest friend, causing him to blush even brighten than Tristan had earlier, when he was caught stealing a peek.

“Come on, I”m serious!”

“And what makes you think I”m not, Sam?” he asked, eyes deadly serious. “I”ve been dead six months, you better believe I wanna a piece of ass.”

“Oh, so that”s all I am to you?” Sam fluttered his eyelashes in a dramatic manner, “A Piece of ass! HURMPH!”

“Yeap.” Tristan replied, grinning from ear to ear, though his eyes spoke a different story all together, all full of tenderness, and longing. It was so intense, that Sam had to look away, and upon doing so he saw that the crumpled up envelope that had held his letter had fallen out of Tristan”s pocket and onto the ground.

Biding his time, Sam waited until Tristan had laid out upon the ground, staring up through the beautiful gold and red leaves at the stars, and then he leaned over and picked up the letter. He took his time opening it, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could, and when he finally got the letter open he began to read.

“Sam,

I am writing you this letter, with no intent to ever share it with you, but I just had to get out my feelings or I think I will soon explode. I love you. I have loved you from the time we were kids, and I will always love you with every breath I take. I know that you are straight, and I know you love Carolyn, might even marry her one day, but my heart will always be in your hands. Every look I”ve ever given you, every touch, every shared joke, it was all with love in my heart. Even now, as I sit here writing you this letter, I cry for the love that will never be recognized. I have tried to find some one to replace you, but I simply can”t, and I find the taste of another”s lips turn bitter on my tongue. I am yours, forever, always. My love, my heart, my soul – Its all yours. If this letter ever finds you, rest assured it was not intended to, and that I do not expect you to suddenly change. Just be who you are, because that”s what I love so much about you.

Love always,

Tristan”

Sam stared at the letter, his eyes misting with tears, and then turned to look at Tristan. He”d noticed that Sam had picked up the letter, and watched him as he”d read it, and now, he sat there regarding him with a look on his face, the look a man gives his lover when he first tells him he loves him. Sam could crush him, he knew this, and in his heart he felt he might never know a moment sweeter then this one.

“Well?” Tristan asked, his voice low, soft. Sam couldn”t help but feel something stirring in his blood, something that felt remarkably like desire. He had always loved Tristan… but was he IN love with him? There was only one way to find out.

Sam carefully folded the letter in silence, slipping it back into its envelope, and then put it in his pocket all while Tristan watched on, fear beginning to glimmer in those beautiful green depths of his. Sam didn”t want to see that fear, so as Tristan began to sit up once more, as if about to run away, to get away from Sam and the silence that began to stretch on. Without thinking about it, Sam”s hand came to curl around Tristan”s neck, and he pulled his friend into an embrace. His lips met Tristan”s soft and inviting mouth, and he kissed him with all of his heart.

Two things happened. First, Tristan gave a startled sound deep in his throat, and second, Sam felt himself almost immediately grow hard beneath his jeans. Oh yes, he was definitely interested in Tristan, and he felt as if for the first time he was finally seeing things clearly. Frantic hands began to pull at Trist”s shirt, hands that ached to run over the well defined muscles beneath, the smooth skin of Tristan”s pale flesh. Sam wanted to touch him everywhere.

“Sam…” Tristan groaned, his heart in his throat, his mouth locking onto Sam”s in a kiss that soon grew so heated he felt as if he was eating his love from the mouth down, devouring him, claiming him. But it wasn”t Tristan that was doing the claiming, it was Sam, in his quiet exploration.

“Don”t worry.” He whispered to Trist, “I”ve got your heart.” It was the closest to admission of love that Tristan had ever heard from his friends mouth, and it made him want him all the more, made him burn for Sam, to have him, to hold him close. He pulled Sam”s shirt up over his head, fingernails scratching along his spine as he drew him close.

“Come here.” Trist murmured, his voice husky, needy, and Sam complied, pressing in close as he too pulled Tristan”s shirt off and tossed it to the ground.

Lips and hands moved, caressed everywhere. Not any one place was left out of the frantic touching that ensued. Tristan found that Sam”s ears were extremely sensitive when he administered a particularly harsh bite, only to hear his love moan in the most wonderfully wanton manner, tilting his head so that he could get better access. Sam, in turn, found that Tristan”s neck was a place of great interest, his teeth lightly raking as Tristan squirmed in his grip.

It didn”t take long for pants to be discarded, and suddenly, Sam felt nervous. “What are we doing?” he groaned softly, and Tristan didn”t answer, he just slide his hand down Sam”s belly, burying fingers into the nest of curls so as to wrap his hand around the incredibly hard length of his shaft. That was all that he needed, soon Sam”s head was resting back against the tree as Tristan began to stroke him, slow at first, tender, gentle, but with great strength. He was so masculine, so masculine and yet so soft and gentle. It was a combination that had Sam”s head reeling, it was almost too much for him to handle.

Without any warning, Tristan lowered his head, engulfing Sam”s cock into his mouth, sliding and swirling his tongue over the underside of the sensitive shaft as he stroked the base of it with his hands and feather light fingertips. Giving a gasp of shocked surprise, Sam”s hands came up to curl into the soft blonde waves of Tristan”s hair, holding him tight, pulling him down harder on his length while he moaned and whimpered wantonly. Tristan obliged, taking his friend deeper into his throat, hilting him in the warmth of his mouth, sucking hard, then soft, before beginning on a slow rhythm that was designed to drive his love absolutely insane with need.

Having accomplished his task, Tristan watched with adoration as Sam”s chest began to raise and fall, his heart pounding in his chest, his excitement near its peak. And just as Sam thought he”d loose all semblance of control in Tristan”s warm and comforting mouth, he pulled back, licking his lips, gazing down at Sam with lust and love. It was a heady feeling, but Sam was going crazy. “Why”d you stop? Why? Don”t stop, oh gods, please Tristan, don”t stop.” He whispered, panting softly.

“Let me make love to you.” He whispered, and Sam”s breath froze in his throat, his mouth going dry with nerves. “I… I know this should be gentle, a first time should be slow, and tender and loving, but I need you and I don”t think I have the time, nor the inclination to make it as slow and drawn out as I want it to be. Please, let me make love to you, and I promise I will make it up to you next time.” He whispered.

Sam nodded his head, swallowing hard. “How do you want me?” he asked, nervous, unsure, his voice wavering and unsteady.

“In every way imaginable.” Tristan replied, smiling softly, and then he said, “Just lay on your back,” and he pulled a small bottle of “Astro glide” from his pocket.

“Isn”t that mine?” Sam asked, distracting himself for a moment. Tristan nodded.

“I saw it, and I hoped, but I wasn”t certain, that this might happen.” He whispered.

“You were pretty certain you were gonna get laid.” Sam argued, then chuckled slightly.

“No… I wasn”t, and it frightened me.” Tristan whispered, taking his own rock hard member in hand and coating it in the slick liquid, then taking Sam”s hips and pulling them down, tilting them up. He coated his fingers in the lubricant, and gazed adoringly into Sam”s eyes as those fingers began to slide and probe against the tight opening of his ass. “Look at me, and relax, I love you, I want this to be good.” He whispered.

Sam nodded his head, “Okay.” He said, his voice sounding hoarse, his body responding instantly to the hesitant touch of his lovers fingers. He was so nervous, that he had to make a conscious effort to relax his body, completely and utterly new to this type of anal play. When the probing fingers began to push into him, Sam thought he”d go insane. It hurt, a little, but Tristan took his time, making it gentle, going soft and smooth. Fingers glided into his body, and then out, beginning a slow rhythm.

“I”m getting you ready, your tight, I don”t want to hurt you.” He whispered, still watching Sam”s eyes, and not watching his fingers. “Look at me, it will help, remember I don”t want to hurt you, I love you. Tell me if anything I do is uncomfortable, I will change how I do it.” He whispered, then turned his fingers to rub upwards, aiming for the prostate.

He knew exactly when he hit it, because Sam”s eyes got wide and he suddenly relaxed, his body loosening, his breath coming in a sharp pant. “Oh God, GOD, Tristan!” he cried out softly, his voice muted with lust. “Oh don”t stop… Jesus… fucking… H… Christ.” He murmured, and Tristan smiled, taking that moment to add a third finger to the mix, gently stretching him, moving his fingers within him for a long time, pressing up against the prostate, then letting up all together on it, only to stroke his digits in and out of the tight opening.

He spent a good amount of time on this, and by the time he felt Sam was ready, he was near tears with need. “Are you sure your ready?” Tristan asked, and Sam nodded his head, gazing up with those deep brown eyes of his so incredibly trusting, so incredibly loving. Yes, Loving, Sam was clear, he loved Tristan, no matter what else happened, he would have this night with him, and he would never, ever regret it.

Trist recoated his cock with the lubricant, and then leaned over Sam, settling in between his legs, one hand lightly stroking his thigh as the other held him up. “Relax, remember, and tell me if I hurt you. I will go slow.” He told his friend. This was better then Tristan could have ever imagined it. While Sam was nervous, he was incredibly open to trying things, open to touching and loving every new thing with wide eyed and innocent wonder.

Grasping his own cock, Tristan positioned himself against Sam”s entrance, and with utter love in his eyes, he began to gently push forward. At Sam”s wince, Tristan brought one hand up to stroke his love”s face. “Bare down on me,” he whispered, “Relax and open, yes… that”s good, oh gods.” His own breath caught as Sam did what was asked of him, relaxing as much as he could, giving himself up completely to Tristan”s loving embrace.

Sam”s hands came up to stroke the line of Trist”s shoulders, then curl around his neck to caress his back as he gazed into his eyes, focusing on breathing, on memorizing that tender look that Tristan wore. It was intense, the first time sharing such an experience, and Sam”s heart was in his throat. The deeper Tristan went, the more Sam felt as if he was owned, mind body and soul. Finally, with much slowness, Tristan slid fully into him and Sam simply closed his eyes and savored the full feeling that this brought with it.

“Are you okay?” Tristan whispered, bringing his mouth down to gently brush kisses over Sam”s lips, and cheeks, and nose and eyes.

“Yea… I”m good. It feels wonderful.” He whispered back, arms holding Trist close, loving. “Please… move, I need you.” His voice came out in a bare whisper, and Tristan nodded his head.

It started slow, Tristan drawing out, then slowly pushing back into him, filling him full. Each movement brought a moan, or a sigh of pleasure from Tristan”s mouth, and in short order it began to do the same for Sam. It was amazing, each thrust brought the length of Trist”s shaft over that sensitive spot inside him. It felt electric, as if jolts of pleasure shot through his form with each thrust.

It didn”t take long for Sam to begin responding, and when he did he lifted his hips up, pressing himself against the invading member, then letting his hips down as Tristan pulled back. “Gods… I need you, I”ve needed you so long.” Tristan whispered, whimpered really, and that”s about when he really started to take him. He settled into a rhythm that was both fast and gentle, not the rough hard strokes that he would manage were Sam seasoned in this form of love making, but not quite the slow hesitance that he”d used earlier. “Tell me… tell me if feels good, Sam.” He whispered, his voice breaking on soft gasps, uncontrollable moans that whispered through the branches of the tree and rose like prayers on the wind.

“It feels good, It feels incredible.” Sam whispered, moaning, and then Tristan shifting so he could begin stroking Sam”s cock with each thrust. This startled Sam at first, but soon, he realized what Trist was doing, he was adding to the pleasure, he had the full intent of making Sam scream for him before this was over. At this pace, it didn”t take long, and soon Sam”s eyes locked on Tristan”s and they both panted softly, making soft sounds that only two lovers entwined in each others arms have any right to make.

“Tristan… I”m so close…” Sam whispered, and then arched his back and cried out, his entire body tensing as orgasm came crashing down around him. Tristan met him half way, burying his cock deep into Sam”s ass as he felt his entire body contract and tense, his balls painfully tight as he began to erupt, coating Sam”s warm body with thick hot fluid even as Sam coated his hand and both their bellies in the same way.

“Tristan… Tristan, Tristan,” Sam began to murmur as he came down from the high of pleasure, that incredibly blissful moment where all feels right with the world, and you just know that everything will work out. Everything will be just fine. Tristan collapsed atop him, and then curled arms around his neck and held him close, pressing soft kisses to his neck and shoulder.

“Sam, you are so sweet, so wonderful, more then anything I ever could have dreamed.” Tristan panted out, his voice a bare whisper, a soft brush of air against Sam”s sweat dampened flesh.

They laid like that, in silence, wrapped only in the crisp autumn night, with the sound of their labored breathing ringing in the still darkness around them. And after a short while, they both dozed, their arms and legs entwined, holding each other, loving each other. They slept, it was peaceful sleep, and not long before dawn, Sam stirred and leaned in to kiss Tristan awake.

“Mmmph?” Tristan murmured, blinking sleepy green eyes at the man he loved, then gave him one of those heart stopping smiles. “Sam.” He murmured, voice soft.

“Its almost Dawn.” Sam whispered, “Please don”t go.”

Tristan looked up at the sky, light beginning to creep up into the peaceful darkness, as if some one was slowly raising the curtains on a new day. “I don”t think I can stay.” He whispered, soft, sad, then wrapped his arms more fully about Sam. “I don”t know if I accomplished what I needed to.”

A tear escaped Sam”s eyes, rolling unheeded down his cheek, and Tristan joined him in the silent shedding of tears as the sun began to rise. “Sam…” Tristan began, his throat closing off and choking the words.

“I love you Tristan… I love you so, so much. When you go away, I will always remember our friendship, but when I think of our love… I”ll think of this, of holding you, of waking to you in my arms.” He whispered.

Tristan”s body suddenly began to glow, and with a cry, his head came back and he gasped a ragged breath. “Sam!!” he groaned, his voice shallow, and as suddenly as the glow began, it faded away, not so much like wisps of mist, but rather seeping into Tristan”s very skin, skin that had gone pale, an almost iridescent white. He blinked green eyes, eyes so green and inhumanely bright they reminded Sam of new grass. The blonde of his hair was now like burnished gold, beautiful, hallowing his head like strands of spun metal. “I”m staying.” He whispered, his eyes bright, his mouth pulled into a sudden grin.

“What? What?” Sam asked, suddenly excited, his heart doing flip flops as he grabbed Tristan and pulled him into a brutal kiss, then laughed softly. “You needed me to admit you loved you all this time?” He asked, shocked, and pleased, and utterly happy.

“Not just love me, but love me as a partner, as your other half.” He whispered, cupping Sam”s cheeks in his hands, gazing into his face. “I love you too, Sam. And now your stuck with me. Forever.” He whispered, nipping at his lower lip, then hugging him tightly.

“What are you now?” Sam asked, curling up in Tristan”s arms, cuddling in close.

“I”m sorta like the Christian idea of what an Angel is. My job will be to help people in need, and when I come home from working with despair and unhappiness every day, it will be to your arms. The powers that be thought I was worthy, but they weren”t sure. When… when we are created, we must have something good and pure to latch onto. So we are sent back to the one person who we loved above all else, and we hope beyond hope, that they accept us. If they do, without any constraints, then we are elevated, and we can stay. If they do not, we are forced to return.”

“Tristan?” Sam asked softly after listening to those words.

“Yea, love?”

“You”re my angel.”

And with those words, Sam and Tristan began their new life together, and all, was indeed, right with the world.

“Thank you for reading my story! If you enjoyed it, please take the time to vote on it, it means a lot to me to see that people enjoy the things that come out of my mind. Oh, and I love feedback too! Let me know what you thought! Thanks again :)”

Without a word spoken between them Darren and my uncle got on either side of me. Each took a nipple in his hand. I thought that they were going to be polite to me again. They each knew how much I liked their ma-nipple-ation. Well, Darren”s at least. Uncle Steven”s was too hard. Or was it.

No, no nipple work. Instead of being polite they did just about the rudest thing possible. They started spitting on me.

I tried to protest, “What the fuck are you doing. Cut it out.”

“Shush,” Uncle Steven commanded. “You”re so covered in semen already. What are you complaining about?” He emphasized this statement with a sharp tug of my nipple on each syllable.

The two of them drooled spit, shot spit, and just plain salivated all over my face, chest, and abs. Uncle Steven rubbed it all over me. I was so fucking sticky, but they just kept spitting on me.

“You probably want a bath now.”

“Yes sir,” I said. “I sure would.”

“Jim,” he called out.

Jim. Where the fucking hell had Jim been all this time? He was sitting under the umbrella at another table naked, drinking one gin and tonic after another, but he didn”t seem drunk. He could drink like a fish. He was also jerking off the whole time, but he never came once.

Jim walked over to me lying on the lounge chair. His cock was rigid, and he stroked it very slowly and very gently. Jim was heavier than either my uncle or Darren. Uncle Steven was solid from years of hard work. Strong arms, strong back, and of course strong hands. Darren was young and taut; he had a chiseled body from hours in the gymnasium: a beautiful chest, shoulders, arms, and abs. You could count the six-pack he had around his waist. But Jim had a little tire around his waist and he was softer. He straddled my body with his legs and jerked his cock.

“Vincent, be polite to Jim,” Steven ordered. “Rub his cock against yourself.”

I playfully rubbed Jim”s cock against my body. Jim reached down and grabbed different parts of my body. He played with my nipples, he reached around and rubbed my balls, he jerked my cock all while bouncing around on top of me. I rubbed his cock sideways, back and forth, up and down. I giggled like a schoolgirl, and I didn”t even know why; Jim just seemed to be so silly.

Finally, Jim squirted his come on my chest. His first shot raced up and splashed me in the nose and lips. Subsequent shots fell all over my chest. Jim rubbed in into my body slowly. He caressed my torso and nipples, working the semen into my skin.

“I thought I was going to get cleaned up,” I said to my uncle who was standing over me, his cock pointing at Jim.

“You are.” Then he let a long drip of saliva drop down onto my face.

Darren and Jim started spitting on me all over again. I was completely soaked. Jim rubbed all the fluid around on me. Sweat, come, oil, spit, I had been drenched.

“Okay Jim, clean him up.”

Finally. What are they going to do, use the hose? That”ll be too cold.

“Uncle Steven, please don”t use the hose. That will be too cold.” I almost didn”t get the last word out. Jim covered my mouth with his. His probed my mouth with his tongue.

So, he wants to french kiss. Okay, why not.

But Jim didn”t kiss me. He licked me. He licked my tongue, then my lips, then my face. But he never stopped. He started lapping at me like a dog. He liked all the fluid off my face. He licked my neck. He licked my chest, my shoulders. He sucked my nipples. I”ll never get enough nipple work. Oh fuck, don”t stop.

Jim licked the come, oil, sweat, saliva combo off my torso, and off my cock. He rolled me over onto my chest and licked my shoulders and back. He licked the crack in my ass. He stuck his tongue up my ass and licked me there in the off chance that he might miss some of Darren”s and Uncle Steven”s come that didn”t drip out. Jim put both hands on my ass cheeks and pulled them apart; he stuck his tongue way up my ass, as far as it could go.

He licked my legs. They never came on my legs, but he lapped up the oil and sweat that was there. He licked every square inch of my body. He went around the world on me.

Darren and Uncle Steven sat next to each other smiling, stroking themselves. I was exhausted.

Darren was a bottom, as was I. Uncle Steven was a top. Jim was a …, what was Jim?

“Tired?” Steven asked me.

“Bushed. I don”t think I can take any more.”

“Just lay back and relax. Get some more sun. Jim will get you another drink. So what do you think about gay sex now?”

“Is it always like this?”

“No, no one could ever keep up this intensity. But sometimes it does get wild.”

“Is it better than straight sex?”

“You mean you”ve never had a girl?”

“Well, no. This was a real first for me.”

“Damn,” Darren chuckled. “We popped his cherry altogether.”

“It is all about letting go and having fun,” said my uncle. “Can you accept your sexuality now?”

“Maybe, after a little rest.”

Jim returned with the drinks. Darren and I lay on the lounge chairs holding hands, fading off into sleep.

Then came the final humiliation. As the last man came inside me. Sam came back the room. Without hesitation, he began fucking my ruined ass. With a snap of his finger he bid the youngest men there, probably about 19, to begin sucking my cock. As he fucked me and the young man sucked me, I felt the beginnings of an orgasm. “No!” I thought. “They can take me but they cannot make me like it!”

But the orgasm kept building, more intense than I ever thought possible. I hadn’t even released yet and it was already more pleasure than the last dozen orgasms I have ever had - rolled into one.

I was detached from my body, riding waves of ecstasy. I think I was screaming.

“Say my name and beg me to come!” Sam said. “Do it and you will have the biggest orgasm of your life!”

Even then I resisted. But it didn’t last long.

“Oh Sam! Oh God Sam!” I screamed. “You made me love that cock, made me take it! Ride my ass! Ride me like a bitch and make me come! Please!”

Same pushed the young man aside and grabbed my cock with his huge hand. Moving inhumanly fast, he jerked my cock. It felt more like a powerful vibration that reached down to the core of my being.

I came. Then there was darkness.

fini

He heard a loud thud from upstairs and immediately made for the stairs.

On the way up to the second level of his house, Marcel wondered if the puppy was trying to drown himself. All hints of amusement, as halfhearted as it was, vanished when he burst through the door after recieving no reply to his knocking. The young man was in the shower stall and lying face-down in a growing pool of water. His body was splayed as best as it could in the small space, and motionless.

“Fuck!” All exasperation had left him the second he had laid eyes on the fallen. Forcing his legs to move, he skidded across the floor, nearly falling as he splashed into a large puddle. He was lucky to grab the door handle on his first try, his desperation barely aiding him to keep control of his shaking. Throwing the door open, he fell to his knees, dragging the other out of the shower. Taking care to lay the puppy down onto the flooded marble floor as gently as possibly, Marcel leaned over, somehow keeping anger off his face. Such a weak spirit this one had… Blinking suddenly, with unsure hands, he pressed hard on the younger’s chest, and after feeling on intake of breath, began in what he hoped was CPR.

A crashing sound echoed around his empty house - a harsh sound of what was surely an attack, judging by the force.

“Come in, dammit, the door’s open!” Shouting of his shoulder, his gaze snapped back to the still unconcious boy under him, already unsure whether it was two breaths per five seconds, or one breath every five or ten. Under his palms, the other remained still, slick with water and free of any signs of life. “Shit!” Remembering that he had to give air along with the CPR, he crushed lips with the other, the action far too fast. His knee slipped, and with a growl, Marcel fell onto the younger’s body, a grumbling of pain following his sound of frustration.

“Nnn!” The nameless suddenly tried to sit up with a great cough, expelling water from his gasping, whimpering mouth. Recieving a face-full, Marcel swore furiously, already trying to steady himself to lift himself up.

“You fucking bastard! *Get-the-fuck-off-my-lover!*!!!” Out of nowhere, a scream sounded, the sound horribly magnified in the bathroom. Nearly able to rise on all fours without sliding, Marcel barely turned to see whoever it was that entered his house before strong fingers fisted his hair and lifted him to his feet. “What you did last night was bad enough, don’t you think?” A man, blond and with an English accent, glared at him with livid green eyes, his words nearly a hiss as deadly as the silver snake piercing in one of the man’s ears.

“Are you-” He broke off in a muted curse, slamming into the far wall. The pale colors of the bathroom swirled with the black marble of his floor, before his vision unblurred. The nerve of some guest to shout at him then toss him aside in disdain merited more than a retort and equal amount of force. Steamed for a fight, Marcel scrambled to his feet, stalking only a couple steps before stopping altogether.

Kneeling in water, Ivan rested his lover’s head on his lap, fingers sliding through wet tendrils of ebony. “Damien…” Bending low, he kissed the younger’s forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. A flickering of breath brushed against his cheek, frail and weak. Relieved, he pressed another gentle kiss, face moving in a single second of pain before pulling away. His gaze faltered as he took in the nail marks, bruises, cuts, and bites, especially the large one on the younger’s neck, almost touching his shoulder blade. Ghosting fingertips over a long scratch on his Damien’s cheek, Ivan kept himself completely for his lover, knowing if he were to look away, he’d be overly compelled to return the damage and more in a heartbeat.

“Turn off the water.” Voice cold, he then gently shook the younger, trying to rouse him awake. “Damien, Dami, wake up, sweetheart…” Speaking softly now, he shushed uselessly, waiting, waiting. Ivan’s legs protesting at the prolonged kneeling, he cradled the boy against him, sitting himself in the water, propping up a knee to help support. A frown flitted across the wolf’s features, his fingers that were combing out tangles found a large bump; it was familiar, as was the slightly dilated pupils that slowly exposed, Damien rousing from unconciousness. Truly smilling, Ivan pressed a kiss on the younger’s cheek, nuzzling gently, shushing over and over.

The tenderness he felt from the obvious love the wolf, whoever he was, had for the puppy, Damien, shattered with a sobbing wail. Such an outburst made Marcel jump, creep closer to see whatever was the matter with the puppy. The wolf that held him was struggling to calm the young one, have his voice heard over,

“-no! Ivan, don’t look at me! Please! Go away! Don’t touch me, don’t, don’t…” Twisting and turning, Damien fought to leave his arms, his voice nearly shrieking now. A few blows caught him but Ivan tried to retain his hold on the younger. Hurt swelled within him - to have Damien burst into tears because of his mere presence was heartbreaking.

“Don’t, baby, it’s alright! Shhh, don’t cry, don’t cry.” Managing to trap the younger’s arms to his sides, Ivan closed his eyes, propping his chin over his lover’s shoulder. “It’s alright, it’s alright…”

“No, no, d-don’t look…Please, leave me alone, go away!” Rocking them back and forth, Ivan whispered reassurances, “Don’t look…I-I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t good enough! I…I loved another, I’m so sorry, Ivan!”

The puppy broke off into sobs again, and struggled to be free once more. This time, the older wolf, Ivan, stood, unmoving for long seconds. Then with the merest turn of the head, green bore straight into him with immeasurable hatred. “Oh shit…” It was “that” Ivan… Dropping his gaze, Marcel bit his lip, tasting blood already. “Here,” He glanced up carefully to see the other wolf offer Damien a towel which was refused with another outburst of apologies and pleas for him to leave. Something dangerous flickered across the clean-shaven face of Ivan, and with much force, the towl was flung at him. Catching it easily, Marcel opened his mouth to apologize, say anything, then shut it uselessly as the other left the room, his footsteps sounding angry as well.

“H-hey, Damien?” His words shook as did he - it’d be hell the moment walked from the room. Kneeling, he started to set down the towel but paused, pulling back as if it had hurt the boy. “Damien, I-I’m sorry…” All the wounds, all the pain could be seen on the puppy, and with much shame, he laid the fluffy towel over slim shoulders. “If only problems could be tucked away from sight…” “Damien, I’ll be downstairs if you need anything…While in my house, you’re my guest, and whatever you need, I’ll give you…” Unable to remain any longer, he left the water-logged bathroom to enter the hallway and be suddenly tugged to the side. The hand gripped at his collar tightly, the other shutting the door quietly before joining it’s brother.

“You won’t be downstairs, you’ll be in the garden as fertilizer!” Promising through gritted teeth, the wolf Ivan dragged him back down to the kitchen all while muttering under his breath.

“I should really kill you right now, reduce your flesh to ribbons to decorate your lovely garden. Funny,” Contemptous green ran over him in mock examination, “You never did strike me as the gardening type. But picking through here and there, taking what you want like a greedy human…” The wolf, in a flurry of movement, crossed the kitchen and was face to face with him, “But taking Damien, my *lover* is something you’re not going to have, not for long.” Turning away, blond locks nearly slapping him, Ivan began to stalk around his kitchen, Marcel’s gaze never leaving him. “I’m going to speak to the clan’s leaders at sundown, beg, plead, offer my soul if I have to, to get Damien away from you. Oh, I saw the nail marks, and the bites, and the bruises and cuts and the Gods know what else you may have done to him. I know you raped him last night, I watched you but I couldn’t move…” Ivan slowed his steps, hovering near the counter top at his side. “He was crying, and then when you finished, he was apologizing to me.” A confused frown formed, Marcel watching the other brush fingertips over a single daisy in a vase set on the smooth counter surface.

“Y-you don’t have to plead or beg, sell your soul…” Trailing off, he shuffled his feet, staring at them, “I must speak to the clan as well, apologize to them.” Silence fell between them, nearly tangible. “I went drinking yesterday, I don’t remember the evening. I-it was a mistake, I swear.”

*************************

Carefully, he laid over his lover, his face just above Damien’s abdomen, still bearing a few nail marks where drunken hands probably couldn’t remain still enough to actually land on the jean button the first try. “Maybe that fucking bastard didn’t even unbutton them, just yanked them off…Being a werewolf he probably could’ve done that…” Very careful not to let his growl be heard, the last thing he wanted was to make Damien think he was angry, Ivan whispered a few sweet words, pressing gentle kisses on the younger’s squirming abdomen. There was no sound of giggles or moans like the way he used to, Ivan realized this. “Oh Dami…” Although he loved to touch Damien, pleasure him, he didn’t want to now. His assault had been far too recent, barely 12 hours past and a blindfold was not the way to help his lover start to get over it.

But he was so brave. So brave to even *try* to overcome this horrible event, let alone with him. Damien mentioned just once that he looked alot like his first “lover”, rapist. To even think of trying this was enough, let alone try to go through with it. It took a few moments to steel himself to do such a cruel but kind thing. Even as he began to take hold of the younger’s hips, he knew this would go over that fine line of present and past, scaring Damien. And on purpose too. Suckling just past his lover’s abdomen, Ivan closed his eyes, feeling the immediate tensing, felt the too-sharp gasp.

“I-Ivan!” He painfully made a shushing sound, continuing just a little bit more before his name was nearly screamed as he went lower.

“S-Say something! I-Ivan? ”

He didn’t answer, knowing it’d frighten Damien even more.

“D-Don’t! Please don’t! No! G-get away!”

He made his lover sob. It didn’t make him cry but only grow angrier inside. Rising up onto his knees, Ivan quickly sought for the blindfold knot,

“Baby, shh, shh, don’t cry. Don’t cry, it’s me. It’s Ivan.” The younger still thrashed, crying, barely breathing at the rate he was screaming, sobbing more. He was cruel, but it was for the best. Intentionally upseting the younger was something he’d think upon later, reproaching himself to the point of believing he wasn’t worthy to even love Damien. He gently took hold of his lover’s face, tucked bangs behind his ear, directing his frantic gaze to look at him,

“It’s me, it’s me, sweetheart…” He saw recognization set in, then such shame and sorrow filled those sparkling cinnamon eyes. Carefully, he lifted the younger from the bed, having him sit up before wrapping him loosely in an embrace, tucking his chin in his shoulder.

A non-constricting hug broke the spell, the nightmare. Weeping, he threw his arms around Ivan and held onto for dear life. The arms around him did so as well, following his lead. The tight circle happened after he did so, not before.

“I-I’m sorry! Ivan, I, I thought I could do it! I couldn’t, but don’t leave me, don’t leave me! I promise I’ll get better! B-but please go slow, please Ivan…” Ivan started to sway him, kiss behind his ear, whisper that he would go slow and that he’d always love him. It was the last thing he heard before he suddenly lost consiousness.

Whether if was because of Damien’s narcolepsy or it was too much, Ivan knew his lover was gone for hours.

Drawing the other into his lap, he set his lover’s cheek against his cheek, brushing his fingers over the bruised skin, closing his eyes. He listened to the other’s heartbeat, glad that he could hear it. So many things could’ve happened while Damien was in Marcel’s control - Marcel could’ve been extremely rough, shattering bones, Dami’s pelvis. It made him wonder if Marcel took his lover face on or had him bent over, taking him from behind; maybe both ways, countless other ways. Kissing the smaller man’s lips, Ivan laid himself back, keeping Damien nestled against his side. Bringing the blankets over them, he tucked it over Damien’s shoulder, hiding the mating bite from sight.

There was no choice but share Damien with a monster.

*

This was stupid, like having a deathwish and seeking something dangerous. Technically he was, but rather he be killed now than later. Gathering as much willpower and courage, he left the dock and crossed the gangplank - if one of the other werewolves hadn’t told him that Ivan lived in a houseboat, he would’ve been searching streets for hours, probably trying to sniff him out with many swears. Hoping this bravado could last the guaranteed icy wind he’d get from Ivan, Marcel knocked loudly on the door.

Cursing under his breath, he lifted Damien off his chest, setting him down with much care. Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see it was nearly noon already - the morning was well spent, running fingers through Damien’s feathery locks, kissing his nose, shushing his small sounds of discomfort. Stretching, he searched for his shirt, giving a reply to the louder knocking.

Everything he planned to say went blank the moment the blond-haired man opened the door, the look on his face displaying all intents to slam the door.

“If Damien wasn’t asleep right now, I’d slam the door.”

Ah, so he was right. Gaze shifting from that smoldering face, Marcel stared at the silver snake piercing on one of Ivan’s ears - silver, didn’t that burn his skin?

“-doing here?” He dared to glance at the other’s face once more before looking away to look at the door. Resting on the doorknob was hand with two gold bands around the ring finger - was Ivan engaged? “Ah, maybe with, what’s his name…Ah shit, Damien…” He forgot the young puppy’s name already. How…Sad.

“S-Sorry, I’m sorry, Ivan. I, don’t even know if I should even call you that.” The bastard started, clearly flustered at the way he kept his gaze away, slipping on his words; hardly pleased, Ivan continued to glare,

“I’m waiting to hear why you’re here.” He glanced at the bouquet in the other’s hands, his eyes growing darker with dislike, “You better not be returning those or I swear-”

“Ah, no! I wanted to thank him, I was wandering around last night, never did, make it home…” “Whoop-de-fucking-do…” He gave a humorless laugh,

“Don’t you have some regular ditch you fall in when you’re piss-faced? I thought alcohol and drugs were against pack laws, why are you allowed to drink?”

Immediately, he stared at the ground, unable to answer. It only made Ivan more angry it seemed,

“So why are you here?”

“I realized that, um, roses aren’t common around here. I mean, M-Marie grew them and she is, was the only one that did around here…” Mustering courage again, he looked Ivan in the face, focusing on his eyes, “He went out to the next town, didn’t he? Bought these,” He held up the flowers for a moment, “For me, didn’t he?” He didn’t wait for an answer, “He must have, I somehow don’t think he’d snip these up from a garden that isn’t his…”

There was no point continuing. Backing away, he shrugged uselessly,

“Hey, tell him…No, nevermind, sorry to bother you.” “That’s right, get out of here quickly.” Saving his skin was instinct now, struggling while he still could, fleeing for his own life.

“Wait. The pack leaders tell me that another ritual can take place, that I can mark him as well and share him with you.” The word “share” was spoken with a hiss, “They say it can be done tonight. They need you present, will you come?”

He agreed, and started walking up the gangplank.

“Why are they allowing this? Mates mate for life, one can only be marked by one - why are they allowing this? How come they allow your terrible drinking?”

“I…” He faltered, his breath suddenly lost. It would’ve been only so long before someone questioned his habit. “I can’t answer that, Ivan.”

Ghosting his lips along the other arm, Ivan let his eyes open briefly to see how his beloved puppy was doing. There were so many conflicting emotions in his lover’s eyes as they stared blankly at a spot a few inches away from his face. But they were aware, those lovely cinnamon brown eyes were nearly squeezed shut at times in an effort to keep back tears that just wouldn’t stay. They fell down those lovely cheeks and trailed lower, where Ivan now started to kiss again. “I don’t mind, baby. I still love every part of you…” His whisper wasn’t unheard, he saw Dami give the barest of nods, his sobs starting again. It was awkward to continue from their current position, so after guiding the other’s arms around his neck, Ivan made himself stand up from their couch, hooking his arms under the younger’s legs, aiding them in wrapping around his waist. Hushing Damien’s quickened breath, his scared hiccup, Ivan nuzzled his face into his neck and whispered sweet words as he brought them to their shared bed.

As he crawled onto the bed as best as he could while support Dami, Ivan felt his love surge, intensifying and hopefully noticed by the young one. As gentle as he could, he lowered his sweetheart down onto the bed, the blankets and sheets cushioning the tired, exhausted body. The simple act of resting his lover down was so empowering - Damien let him, looked into his eyes when he did this, and now was looking away again. Keeping his movements slow, Ivan brushed the bangs from his eyes before setting a knee on either side of Damien’s thighs, brought his face down until his lips kissed down the fine line of the chest. Hands came up and massaged his lover’s sides as he grazed his mouth along the baby-soft skin, gently nipping and sucking at a nipple. Barely staying here for more than a few seconds, Ivan swept to the other one, giving it the same amount of attention before resuming his kissing; this was meant to bring comfort not to prepare for sex.

“No, no, this is the worst, the worst! Ivan, please, baby…” Unable to utter more than a hoarse whisper of a plea, Damien shook his head, laying it back against the pillows and turned to the side. His face burned a shameful crimson, his lips biting down to keep back his moan of disgust. Ivan finished undoing the bow to his pajama pants and now as slowly as possible, started to drag the thin fabric from him. While he kept crying, Damien didn’t know which was worse - Ivan doing this so carefully and lovingly or if Ivan was doing everything as fast as possible. Every time Ivan’s lips or anything of him touched his skin, it seemed to burn into his soul, mapping out just how far someone would go.

And now his body was completely bare for his cherished lover to see.

Ivan now had been shuffled down about his ankles while his face was level with his stomach; now he coaxed his legs apart and settled between them. Damien’s back arched as if his whole body could leave the bed as Ivan’s soft lips brushed lightly on his abdomen, drawing a gasp of worry, fear, and pleasure. His jutting hips fell prey to the older’s touch, and followed the line of his legs to his groin where, from a nest of copper curls, his length protruded from. To react so fast, it was so whorish and disgusting. Turning his face to the side against as fast as he could with a shaking sob, Damien began to weep, it couldn’t be called crying anymore.

As much as he wanted to dry his lover’s tears and rock him to sleep, Ivan lifted himself up onto his knees and waited until Damien looked at him. Those watery orbs met his with such sorrow it was heartbreaking. Certain he’d be lost and break down into sobs as well, the older let his gaze soften even more and reached down to the waistband of his own lounge pants. And slowly, giving his sweetheart so much time to protest, stripped himself bare and then lowered himself back down onto the bed. Now they were both naked, in nothing but their skins and hadn’t started sex as so many couples do.

He cried out involuntarily, reverting back to sobs as he fisted his shaking hands into the blankets beneath him. His heart hammered almost painfully in his chest, warmed from Ivan’s kissing; it was too much. Damien uttered another cry, apologizing under his breath.

“It’s alright, dearest…” Murmuring in reply, Ivan lowered his lips again and sealed them around the tip of his lover’s length, suckling lightly. Letting his hands caress the smooth thighs, Ivan pulled his mouth away and nipped gently down one side of the shaft, then did so on the other side. After kissing everywhere, the older started down one thigh, down the leg and playfully nipped at the toes - the giggle he hoped to hear never came, Damien was far too unrelaxed. It was not good for what he was about to do.

When he kissed down the other leg, Ivan’s sweet words turned to encouragement, “It’s alright baby, I love you, honey. Shhh, lay back down.”

Successful in guiding Damien to lie on his stomach, although it took a good long time to get him to do so, Ivan started from the toes and went up. Just as he got to the knee, his lover began to protest.

“Ivan, skip this part, a-anywhere but not there! I-Ivy, please! I-I’m so ashamed, I’m so sorry!”

Damien’s sobbing couldn’t be calmed no matter what he whispered between kisses. Shedding his own tears, Ivan gently massaged the soft cheeks and barely touched his lips to the silky skin. Dragging them across so he touched every inch, the older held his breath before whispering for Damien to rise up onto his knees but keep the rest of him lying on the bed. Although his puppy refused to, telling him he’d never, that it was so dirty and wrong to touch him there now, Damien did as he requested through his weeping. Their trust had been steadily growing - Ivan could’ve, if ever he wanted to, bitten or scratched - and now it grew to immeasurable heights.

The way his lover shook violently was so hard to see and feel, Ivan couldn’t find a way to relax his lover. But this needed to be done, Damien had to know it didn’t bother him, that he didn’t think he was dirty. His hands kneading the cheeks, Ivan then, with the utmost care and gentleness, pried them apart. Damien gave a near shriek of so much pain and torment into the pillows, muffling the horrible bout of sobbing. Holding back his own, Ivan took in a deep breath for control and lowered his face. The small, pink rosebud had healed, the many tears and rips from a couple nights ago gone; it was here where Damien cried the most when his lips touched.

He didn’t breath for many long seconds as he fed his need to cry everything out of his system. The shame, the guilt, the terror, the lingering layer of filth he felt upon his skin. Ivan had gone so out of his way to erase that disgusting second skin upon his body, and now to do it there… Giving another near scream, Damien buried his face deeper into the pillows, letting it keep his sounds quiet as it soaked up his tears. His hands couldn’t block his noises, they were strangling the blankets and sheets in a death grip that only grew tighter as Ivan pressed another kiss upon that place.

“Ivan, I-I’m sorry! I wanted my n-next time after Jared to be with you! And I’ve ruined it, I-I messed up! I-”

Damien broke off in a wail, his whole body almost slumping down onto the bed. Drawing in a shuddering breath, Ivan let his tongue dart out again, teasing the surrounding area before pressing forward again, easing past the muscular ring. Again and again he did this, and more and more did Damien cry out and weep. Between this and pulling away for breath, Ivan whispered his love, shushed his sobbing. Hips started to rock back into his slow thrusting tongue - Ivan drew his mouth away and carefully had Damien’s body unwind so he could insert a finger, made easier by a few sweeps of pre-cum.

“It’s alright to feel good, relax, baby, just feel, Dami.”

Now with two fingers, he caressed that one spot within his lover and reached under with his other hand, taking the bobbing length and stroking it in time to the puppy’s frantic bucking. The moans and gasps were intoxicating, making his own groin throb but Ivan wouldn’t touch himself, Damien’s pleasure far too important over his own. After a minute of this heart-warming pleasuring, his lover gave a scared mewl, almost getting out of his kneeling position.

“P-please, I have a boyfriend, I-I can’t! A-anything, just don’t make me!” Damien thought he was Marcel.

“It’s alright, shh, Damien, it’s Ivan, Ivan touching you, making you feel good. It’s alright, baby!”

“I-it’s gonna hurt! Its gonna hurt!” Damien repeated it over and over again, his sobbing starting again.

Seconds after his lover tipped over the edge with a muffled shriek, release gathering into his palm as it drew gentle circles on the tip. The pleasure made his Dami tremble, lower himself onto the bed; Ivan withdrew his fingers and laid by Dami’s side, resting his ear against the other’s back. To hear him fight for breath, to feel him shudder…

After some time, Ivan combed his fingers through the young one’s sweaty locks and found him to be nearly asleep. As lightly as possible, the older finished his kissing up Dami’s back, the arms and neck, Ivan guided his sleeping lover onto his side, and spooned against him. Holding him close, keeping him safe.

**************************

Heat began to trickle down into his groin, the feeling making him start to shake. Parting his lips in a sharp gasp, Damien looked to the ground, anywhere but at Ivan, who still kept his arms twined around his waist. Panting softly, he gave a weak laugh,

“Sorry! I’m sorry…” Falling into a whisper, he fell silent, his lips trembling slightly, his cheeks warm with shame. Why that one thing always cropped up in his heart whenever he felt anything pleasurable, he didn’t know. If he had one wish, he’d wish his shame and guilt would go away long enough for him to be loved properly. “Ivan always said…My first wasn’t proper….That love doesn’t feel like that…” Just an hour, an hour without him breaking kisses, stopping their love play for feeling dirty, contaminated at feeling what was too good for his body. It felt so good, and it was so stupid to make it end when-

“-mien?” There was so much conflict in his lover’s down turned eyes that ran back and forth, as if he were reading his thoughts. They blinked away the glassiness, and warmed considerably upon meeting his concerned green gaze.

“I’m here, sorry about that.” His lover licked his lips, and drew closer, pausing only once as if unsure. Petal soft, they met his mouth in a shy kiss, barely a peck. Returning it, Ivan cupped Dami’s cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin before his hand followed down his body.

“Let’s just skip dinner, Ivan…” If that whisper meant what he thought it meant… His temperature spiked, waves of heat directing to his abdomen and lower; then began to cool. With a soft shush, Ivan drew way, eyes running over Damien’s face,

“Aww, Dami, it’s too soon. I mean, it wasn’t even twenty-four hours ago…” The flicker of disappointment wasn’t missed by him. Closely regarding the young one’s face, ready to see any hint of worry or fear, he asked,

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I do, I-I’m sure.” Drawing in a deep breath, he gave a brave smile. His lover’s face softened with some emotion he couldn’t name, then brushed his cheek gently; nuzzling into the touch, Damien continued,

“I want to love you completely, Ivan. For a long time I wanted to, a-and now we can. Just, go slow, please?” His doubts slipped away from his mind at how tenderly Ivan kissed him, wrapping arms around his waist. A whimper escaped him, ripe with desire and the slightest touch of fear as Ivan suddenly hoisted him up into his arms. That swooping sensation in his stomach started again, and with blushing cheeks, Dami wrapped his legs around the older’s waist, his arms around his neck. “Oh Gods…” He was shivering all over, betraying another whimper as their tongues flicked over the other. Every thing still reserved within him for love was becoming alive, a nearly overwhelming feeling spreading over him as Ivan lowered them onto their king-sized bed.

“Ivan, it’s beautiful…”

Rose petals, white and red, were strewn over their black sheets, their scent sweet. There were candles set on the bed stand, on the little table near their window overlooking the sea. The curtains were drawn back, allowing them to see the clear starry sky, letting soft blue moonlight in. Smiling, Dami looked to Ivan, about to comment on the amount of effort to make this romantic, then frowned slightly. The older was still looking around, his brows furrowed in a confused arch before glancing at him,

“You, didn’t do this?”

“No, didn’t you?”

After looking around with Ivan, Damien soon found a note he had been sitting on, addressed from the twins. The two had been hanging around their street for a good part of the afternoon, and set everything up while he and Damien drove to their pack’s clearing for their mating ritual. They both wished them their luck and love, and had apparently worn lipstick to place their lip prints on the paper.

Ivan and Damien both agreed to have the twins over for another slumber party - their favorite activity - and stuff with them cake and other goodies.

Trembling finely, Ivan slowly shucked his shirt off, his eyes never leaving Damien’s. Those lovely brown orbs looked over his exposed chest and returned to meet his gaze, his cheeks coloring more. But he still knelt, not moving, looking almost afraid to. Leaving his kneeling position, Ivan shuffled closer, one hand falling to support his weight as his other reached out to touch the younger’s cheek.

“Hey…Baby, are you okay?” He got a nod, an attempt for an explanation, then just a shrug. Daring to inch closer, Ivan caressed the other’s cheek,

“Do you want me to do it?” Asking softly, he gave a nod in return and drew Dami in his arms. Just an embrace, a few seconds for their hearts to beat together before he carefully lowered his lover down. Sweeping his hand under the younger’s shirt, Ivan smoothed his palm upward. Lying carefully onto of his lover, he buried his face in Dami’s neck, held there by the other’s arms pressing him closer.

His shirt continued to drag up his chest, making his breath catch as the hand continued up his body. A whimper nearly escaped him, his hips rocking upwards once in reaction to the pleasant feeling as his nipples were gently tweaked. Lips touched his neck, then a tongue, sliding up to the line of his jaw, leaving to suckle his ear lobe. Barely keeping in a cry, Dami kept his eyes shut, trying to remember who this was, what this meant. Marcel hadn’t touched him like this, nor had his first boyfriend - and what they did wasn’t love. This was. Ivan continued to tease him, nipping at his lobe before kissing him.

Fear was dying but still present; hs body still remembered hands grabbing and pulling, ripping, and tearing.

“I-Ivan!” His choked voice was barely audible as his shirt was lifted up higher, exposing his flat stomach, his chest. A pleased murmur escaped him followed by a moan. Lips brushed over his ribs, a hand coming to play with his other nipple while the other nub was being kissed, then gently sucked. Arching his back, Damien laced fingers around his lover’s head and tugged him down, guiding him for more. As they continued to be so close, his trembling started again mainly how pleasing this felt and how bad his heart started to hurt. It had been lied to again, believing the pleasure he felt with Marcel was true.

The younger had been squirming right from the start, his held-in sounds making his groin throb. A sharp gasp sounded into his neck, an encouraging murmur before hips arched up into his again. With a breathless groan, Ivan thrust down, grinding against Damien. The younger moaned, meeting him again and again. Gasping, Ivan matched every thrust, kissing slowly to keep his lover calm. To his surprise, nothing seemed to register to Dami but how good it felt, moving like this; he whined, spreading his legs wider around him. Hands wouldn’t stay in one place, roaming across his shoulders, to his neck, before dropping again. Finally, Damien locked hands and kept hold of him; turning his face, Ivan pressed kisses up and down Dami’s neck. Their chests met, their whole bodies rocked as they ground against each other.

Nothing else seemed to get through the desire that clouded his mind. As he rocked upwards, stroking Ivan’s hair as a mouth suckled at his neck, a hand massaging his side, he knew this was Ivan. It felt warm every time his boyfriend came near - it was never warm with his first, or with Marcel. Closing his eyes, he still knew who it was that moved against him, loving him. Catching his breath, he let another moan leave him,

“W-wait,” Slowing his movements, he paused a few seconds, trying to regain his breath. Ivan looked down at him with softness, drawing his face away. Smiling in return, albeit it was shaking slightly as if unsure, Damien grabbed at his shirt and pulled the confining cloth over his head, throwing it somewhere on the floor. What it too bold of him? It felt right to do, it wasn’t fear of letting down Ivan that made him. It was the need to be as close as possible, to touch everything without barriers. A hand touched his bare chest, making him shiver; meeting his lover’s gaze, he smiled, placing his hand over Ivan’s.

“You let me know if you’re scared…” His voice was low, husky as he stroked his thumb over the soft skin. A sadness entered those lovely brown eyes,

“I am scared…But I can manage. It feels really good when you touch me…” Dami looked uncomfortable as he always did when admitting things like this. “If it gets too frightening, I’ll tell you. I’m s-sorry if I do, I just…” He trailed off his rambling, shifting under him. Shaking his head, Ivan smiled,

“Don’t you apologize, Damien. It is not your fault for what happened, it’s Marcel’s. He was the one that hurt you, you didn’t ask to be. Anytime, sweetheart, anytime at all you want to stop I will. Even if we’re a centimeter from heaven.”

“Heaven?”

“When I’m inside you, I’ll touch something that will make you want to scream. How it feels like now, this pleasure, is nothing compared to what will come later. I want to take you there…” Whispering, he slowed down, kissing gently, running hands lightly down Dami’s bare sides. His touch caused shivers; as he started to thrust against his lover again, he gained a shudder.

Sweet whispers brushed against his ears, Ivan’s probable attempt to calm him, but his desire began to turn, fear starting to leak in his body like a poison. A memory of last night flashed before him, and before he could murmur to tell Ivan it took control.

*

“-slamming into his over and over again. The bed was shaking in time to the vicious thrusts that made him sob. The mattress was soaking with blood, bites, deep scratches littered everywhere on his body. The stranger’s movements got even more intense, and he screamed in agony.

He couldn’t tell if his shaking was from the bed, or his own fears.”

*

“I-I-” His voice wasn’t working, and his attempt to call out his lover’s name was halted. Inhaling sharply as the older began to shuffle backwards, his lips kissing down his chest, to the smooth plane of his stomach. Breath catching, he tried to sit up, tried to speak but he moaned again. It felt good, unbelievably so. Why could he still feel pleasure when he was scared? Tears started to form, annoying him again - the past day he’d done nothing but cry. Fisting his hands into sheets, clean ones this time, he kept himself from sitting up and protesting. “I-Ivan said it’d get even better…and I really have done nothing but cried…” And his earlier thrusting and moaning, whimpering pathetically; would Ivan think him a tease if he asked for this to stop?

Fear drowned out his judgment and he wondered if Ivan thought he was a tease, would he just take as well? Lips kissed just above his waistband, and fingers began to unbutton his jeans. Gasping, Damien clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep calm. “What am I thinking? Ivan would never do that. He loves me, he’d respect my wishes…N-never hurt me like that…” And he felt even more horrible for even thinking so badly of his boyfriend, his lover. Husband? Realizing that technically, he and Ivan were life mates, and Ivan was his husband. Glancing at his right hand, his glassy eyes took in the shining gold ring - if there was ever a promise to care and protect, it would be the binding of matrimony.

His lover gave a light sob, and he ceased his kisses, leaning up on his elbows. Damien was still on his back, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly, and his chest nearly heaving as more sounds of anguish escaped. Lifting himself up, not lying on top of the young one anymore, Ivan brought himself level to Dami. His dearest turned his face to the side with a sob, and covered his mouth;

Ivan tried to make eye contact but Dami refused to, looking to the other side each time.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” After receiving no answer, he quickly flipped over so he was lying at Damien’s side, and tugged him close, wrapping arms around him. His eyes began to sting, warning him of oncoming tears - it was Damien’s lack of response that was the worst.

“Damien, sweetheart, shhh, it’s alright to cry. As much as you like…” Crying could have been a response, Ivan supposed, closing his eyes, leaning his chin atop of Damien’s head; although it was not a reaction to what he was doing. It was probably memories that brought about this fresh bout of tears, and rightly so. It was how Damien didn’t hold him back, didn’t even push or protest at his touching now. Tightening his hold slightly, in hopes to gain some sort of reaction, Ivan held back his own sob. “H-He’s not here…He’s in a memory, remembering something…” As seconds passed by he felt so lonely. Damien was in a place he could never follow, and that tore him apart.

Vaguely, he felt fingers run down his back, very light and gentle. Drawing out of his misery, Dami realized he was slumped against Ivan, his cheek rest upon his lover’s chest. The sharp breaths, irregular, made him wonder… But it was true - he made Ivan cry as well, near sobbing. And still, his lover gave him comfort while in his own pain. Ashamed, Damien fell back to resting on the older.

“I-Ivan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Ivan!”

His lover suddenly blurted out, and immediately arms wrapped around him as best as they could where they lay. Damien’s crying increased alarmingly, sounding as if his heart had broken. Quick to comfort, Ivan stifled his noises and stroked the younger’s trembling back, whispering assurances.

“I-It got really scared when you started moving y-your hips again, really slowly. Then you ran down-down my body, lower and I just saw myself with him, and how the bed was shaking, rocking because he was…And then I wanted to t-tell you I was scared, to ask you to go slower or anything but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t, I just- I thought you’d think I was a tease if I wanted it to stop, with all my m-moaning and I thought, I thought you’d…”

“He thought I’d take from him?” The thought of ever doing so made him sick, disgusted; if ever he ever tried it, even for just a second, he’d slice his hands off right then and there. Shushing, he continued his stroking hand, kissing his lover’s crown, telling him it was okay. But Damien rose up, looking at him with such despair. His face was twisted in sorrow, his cheeks damp and his eyes near dead and empty.

“I-I know you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t ever, I don’t know how I could e-ever think that! I felt so horrible for thinking that you might, and I’m sorry, I-” Suddenly, Damien reached up to his face and kissed him, desperately, his sharp breaths near joining his. This was getting closer to breaking his own heart; Ivan parted their kiss, shushing under his breath. He took hold of the younger’s wrists and lowered them from his face,

“Dami, honey, you don’t need to…” Smiling tenderly, he leaned forward, pressed upon Damien’s damp cheek the softest of kisses. After doing so, he let go of the other’s wrists, and folded his beloved in a loose embrace.

“I understand how you might think that, this must be so frightening.” Damien hugged him back, albeit, it was hesitant, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart, you’ve done nothing wrong. I should have gone slower, anything to make you more comfortable. Oh, shh, don’t worry, I swear to you I’ll never ever go against your will…And you know,” He pulled back to look at Damien, meeting his lover’s tired gaze, “You could screaming in pleasure, squirming and moaning at 40 decibels, and the moment you say stop, I will.” Ivan smiled, his light chuckle shared with the younger. “It doesn’t matter what’s happened, what is happening, you don’t owe anything when we’re here loving each other.”

“B-but this is like, o-our wedding night…”

That explained much. It was true, they were bonded together for life, just like marriage. Cradling his lover, he pressed another gentle kiss to Dami’s cheek,

“You’re right, it is our wedding night…But you’re not obligated to do anything, not ever. Not on this night, any other night, any day. Baby, tell me - when we were in the kitchen, did you truly want to skip dinner, or did you feel you had to?” He received a quiet response that he’d wanted to, and it made his heart soar.

After tugging blankets over them, Ivan nuzzled his cheek against Damien’s with a sigh. With his lover tucked against his side, he closed his eyes, and stayed awake long after the younger fell asleep. His beloved puppy looked beautiful in the moonlight.

“You okay, Mike?”

I managed to smiled and nod. “Yeah, just give me a minute.” I screwed my eyes shut and took quick breaths, willing myself to relax. My thigh muscles were tiring and it wasn’t going to be long. In another minute I raised my head, letting out another cry of mingled pain and pleasure as I sank down onto his pubic bone, taking all of his sizable length into me.

“Aw Jesus,” Ethan said.

“You okay, buddy?”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding? I’ve never felt anything like it. Damn, it’s so sweet.”

I smiled. “The pleasure’s all mine, believe me.” I started to slide up and down on his rod, leaning back so that it bumped my prostate on every stroke. I watched Ethan’s face. He tossed his head from side to side as the new sensations flooded through him, occasionally muttering softly.

I continued to ride him, squeezing my ass muscles around his cock, now and then grinding my hips for variety. My own cock was hard as steel, despite the fact I hadn’t touched it for minutes. There was no sound in the room except for our pants and groans.

Suddenly Ethan sat up so that his face was only inches from mine, his hot breath bathing my face. He slung his arms over my shoulders. His eyes were wide and dark with emotion.

“Mike, this is fantastic. I never thought I could feel like this.”

I put my arms around him and leaned forward to kiss him, but he let me only have a quick peck on the lips before he hugged me hard instead. I felt a fleeting disappointment, then put the feeling aside. What he had already given me tonight was beyond my wildest dreams. I leaned back, taking him down with me, until I was doubled underneath him on the mattress, my calves over his shoulders.

“Finish me off,” I whispered to him. “Fuck me just as hard as you can. Give this queer the pounding he deserves.”

Ethan grinned. “You asked for it,” he said. His hips swung into overdrive. In a moment the bed was shaking and squeaking and I was grunting every time he slammed into me. “You like that, queer boy?”

I didn’t mind the slur one bit, in fact I egged him on. “Fuck me harder. I can take anything you can dish out, asshole. That the best you can do, straight guy?”

In reply he fucked me even harder. “Take that, bitch. How do you like that? And that? And that?”

I was stroking my cock for all I was worth. Soon I felt the sperm rising in my balls and abandoned myself to the coming explosion.

“That’s it, fuck this bitch. Yeah, yeah, yeah…Oh yeah!”

A flash exploded in my brain, blinding me as jets of white cum flew from the bursting head of my cock and spattered over my heaving chest and stomach. Dimly I heard Ethan’s wordless shouts and knew he must be dumping his load into the rubber buried in my ass. My arms clamped him in a viselike embrace as we rode out our simultaneous orgasms in a heaving, groaning tangle of sweaty, hairy masculine flesh.

Finally we relaxed our grip on each other, though our bodies stayed joined. I fell back onto the bed and Ethan straightened up. A slight smile played on his face as he looked down at me.

“You’re going to have to get that thing cleaned.”

I still had my necktie on. It was dotted with dark splotches of cum.

“Guess so.”

“You sure got a mouth on you, Mike.”

I grinned. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“Sure did. Can’t remember when I came like that.” Slowly Ethan pulled out of me, drawing a groan as his cock popped out of my spent hole. The rubber ballooned with his white cum. I couldn’t resist the sight, and said, “Let me.”

I peeled the condom off his softening cock, raised my head and turned it inside out over my open mouth, letting Ethan’s load drip down my throat. I swallowed it, dropped the condom on the floor and turned to look at him. He was taking in the scene with a half fascinated, half appalled expression on his face.

“What can I say, I love eating your cum,” I told him.

He shook his head. “I’ve never done that,” he said.

I saw the opening and pounced. “But you’ve sucked cock, haven’t you?”

Ethan stared. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then nodded.

“I figured you had,” I said to him later, after we had gotten ourselves cleaned up. We were lying in bed, our arms loosely around each other. “You were just too good at giving head. You had to have done it before.”

Ethan stared at the ceiling, remembering. “In college I had some experiences with guys. Had a roommate who I found out was bi. I enjoyed it. But I gave that all up when I got married. Never felt the urge to try it again-until you came along.”

I looked him in the eye. “So are you cool with it? We’ve still got to go back and work together, Ethan. I don’t want this to screw us up.”

He thought for a while. “I think so. As long as we keep it discreet.”

I nodded. “What went on here stays here. No one will hear a word about this from me, ever. And I won’t ask you for anything other than what you’re prepared to give.”

He relaxed a little more. “Thanks, Mike. I appreciate that.” Then he smiled. “So do I still get to keep your jockstrap till the next time?”

My heart leaped. So Ethan was saying there would be a next time. “Damn straight. Sorry, poor choice of words,” I said as he hooted with laughter.

“Well,” Ethan said as we settled down to go to sleep, “I’d say this has been a good trip.”

I caught a glimpse of two jockstraps on the hotel room floor, the Bike no. 10 he’d been wearing that day and the fashion jock I’d put on. “So would I.” I turned out the light. In moments Ethan was asleep. The last thing I heard before I drifted off myself was his peaceful, even breathing. The last thing I felt was the warmth of his big body next to mine.

Ethan and I had started our business trip as friends and co-workers. By the end we were fuck buddies as well. We were determined to keep our new relationship a deep, dark secret, not only for the sake of Ethan’s marriage but also for the company. There’s no surer way to disrupt office morale than to give people something to gossip about. Ethan and I worked well together and I wanted that to continue.

So we settled into our daily routine once we got back, not changing our habits at all. If we happened to break for lunch at the same time, fine, but Ethan and I didn’t go out of our way to spend time together. We never socialized after hours either-his wife was expecting their first child and as soon as quitting time rolled around he was on his way home. Needless to say, we never hugged or touched in public.

I had to admit I got frustrated once in a while, but I put up with it. I liked Ethan a lot, even more than I lusted after him. I wouldn’t do anything to disrupt our friendship. I wanted him to trust me. I had an ulterior motive, after all-if he trusted me he’d be more inclined to continue what we had started. And I very much wanted that.

Ethan, good guy that he was, must have sensed what I felt. Once in a while he did something to let me know he hadn’t forgotten what had happened. There was the day he walked into the men’s room on our floor just as I’d finished my business. My dick leaped up at the mere sight of him–this was a common occurrence that I had to be on guard against–but I managed to zip it into my pants.

He smiled at me. “How’s it going, big fella?” he asked.

“Oh, just fine,” I replied, wishing I could jump his bones right there, and knowing I’d never dare.

I walked over to the washbasin and was occupying myself running water and soaping up when I heard him say my name.

“What?” I said, not looking up.

“I said look over here.”

I turned my head. Ethan was standing facing the urinal, his head turned toward me. A big grin was on his face. He’d let his dress pants slide down his hips enough that I could see half his bare butt, encased in the wide waistband and leg straps of my Bike.

“I’m wearing it.”

“So I see,” I managed, just before he pulled down the jock in front so that his big meat flopped out. I gave up trying not to get hard.

“You freeballing today?” I heard the rattle of liquid against rubber as he let his bladder go. How could he be so fucking casual?

“Yeah.”

Ethan finished peeing and milked his cock dry. A small whimper rose in my throat at the sight of him handling himself. I hoped he hadn’t heard. He pulled his pants up, zipped himself closed and flushed. I forced myself back to the business of washing my hands, my own dick straining painfully at the front of my pants.

“So how are you doing with the Steiner account?” he asked as he washed his hands in the sink next to mine.

We exchanged small talk about business. He left the men’s room. As soon as he was gone I raced into one of the stalls and whipped my cock out. It only took a few quick, fevered strokes before I shot into the toilet. My knees buckled as I tried to stifle my groans. Afterward depression swept over me.

“Do you know how hot you are, Ethan?”

Finally I calmed down enough, and my cock shrank enough, to go back to work.

I had given up hope when Ethan came up to me one morning, grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” I said, hardly daring to think the thought.

He punched me on the arm. “Boss man’s sending us on the road again, guy.”

The desire to throw my arms around him and squeeze the breath from his body was overwhelming. I did allow myself a hearty clap on his shoulder. “That’s great. When?”

A week later we were in coach together on an American Airlines flight, poring over our notes, tapping away on our laptops side by side. I was so happy I was beyond lust. It was just great to have my best friend to myself, doing what we both loved most-our jobs.

I’m being honest when I say that I didn’t think of anything other than business until after we checked into the hotel and were on our way up the elevator. I caught Ethan’s eye. He had a mischievous grin on his face.

“What?” I said, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m wearing it,” he said. “You?”

I kept my voice even, though the blood was pounding in my ears and my breathing was quick and shallow. “Yep.”

“Good.” Ethan fell silent. We didn’t speak further until we had found our room and the door was safely shut behind us. He put down his baggage and began to unbuckle his belt. I followed his lead. In a moment we were dressed in nothing but jockstraps, both pouches bulging.

“Time for you to give mine back,” I told him.

He nodded. “That was the deal. Want to swap?”

My cock leaped in its pouch. “Yeah.” We stripped our supporters off together and straightened. We were both naked, and very, very hard.

Ethan smiled and licked his lips. “First things first.”

He dropped my Bike jock that he had worn for weeks on the floor, fell to his knees and took my erection into his mouth. It was a warm, wet homecoming and I groaned out a welcome. I pulled back after only a few minutes to avoid cashing in my chips too soon. The jock that I had peeled off moments before was balled up in my clenched fist. I took it and pressed the pouch into his face. Ethan whiffed and slurped at it, his cries of satisfaction muffled by the stretchy fabric. I looked down at his cock, hard as steel, poking up from the thicket of pubic hair, a thread of syrup hanging from the rosy cap. The next moment I was down on the floor on all fours catching the precious fluid with my tongue.

We never did make it to the bed, but ended up sixty-nining on the carpeted floor of the hotel suite beside our luggage and discarded clothes, sending up a symphony of slurps and groans that were muffled by the cocks and balls stuffed into our mouths. Eventually I took a breather and let my tongue wander behind his ball sack and through his legs, wetting the hairs in his crack until it reached the silky flesh of his asshole. It had been too long since I’d eaten good ass and I plunged right in. Ethan moaned as he sucked me, a human vibrator. The climax I’d tried to hold back came rushing up. I broke away from rimming him and cried out “Fuck I’m cumming!” Too late-through the blinding force of the orgasm I could feel myself emptying volley after volley into his mouth. To my surprise Ethan didn’t choke or pull away, but stayed clamped to my spigot until my balls were drained. Finally he let me go and I sat up, still shaky. He grimaced playfully at me as he wiped his mouth.

“My first load,” he said.

“So how was it?” I asked him.

“You want to know the truth, I think cum tastes lousy.”

I laughed. “Not everyone likes it. At first.”

He shook his head. “Don’t know if I ever will.” He pointed at me. “I know YOU do.”

“That’s right. And I’m ready for yours now.”

He gave it to me a few moments later, straddling my chest as I lay on the floor, stroking away until animal noises began to rise from his heaving chest. He must have been saving it too, because the quantity was amazing-half a dozen hot, thick jets full in my face that trickled in gooey streams down my forehead, cheeks and chin. The rich odor of semen filled my nostrils. I opened my mouth and caught as much as I could with my tongue.

Ethan spoke, his voice hoarse with lust. “Damn, you look hot like that, Mike.”

I put my hands on his chest, raking the thick hair with my fingers, and smiled up at him. “Drinks at seven, dinner at eight.”

We untangled ourselves, cleaned up, unpacked and went out to eat, wearing our swapped jocks.

I’d wondered after the first time whether Ethan would go on a guilt trip and pull back from exploring his bisexual side. Obviously I needn’t have worried.

Most people having clandestine affairs feel bad afterward for one reason or another. When I think about my two years or so with Ethan I don’t have a single regret. It was the happiest time of my life.

It was also strange. For part of the time I even had a boyfriend, who was as blissfully ignorant what was going on as Ethan’s wife seemed to be. Since we stuck to our rule about never doing anything when we were both at home, it was easy to keep things under wraps. After a few trips it became obvious to management what a successful team we made on the road, so the joint assignments kept coming in, just often enough to keep me from getting frustrated and doing anything rash.

Our entire relationship was crammed into those eight or ten road trips. Make no mistake, work came first. We never let sex interfere with our jobs–not for nothing were we two of the most productive team members. But as soon as the meetings, presentations, lunches and schmoozing were over and we were back at the hotel, we peeled business matters off with our clothes, which we never wore in the room.

Swapping jocks on these trips quickly became an unbreakable tradition. Each of us had a rule we made the other follow. Ethan’s was that I had to give him a different kind of jock every time. That was easy, since I had a bit of a fetish and owned dozens. As a joke one time I brought him a novelty number that had a hole in the pouch, a so-called suspensory jock. He cracked up when he saw me wearing it, but got down on his knees with enthusiasm. “Easy access,” he said, chuckling, just before he inhaled my dick. He was game and wore it to work, too, as he did all the others, lowering his trousers and modeling it for me in the men’s room, snickering. Later he winked when we passed in the hallway and I copped a look at the larger-than-usual bulge in his dress pants.

My rule for him was, he could wear my jock as much he wanted while he had it–but he could never wash it. Of course that meant when he gave it back after a month or two it was permeated with his scent, guaranteed to make me pop wood with one heady whiff or by putting it on. I always wondered how he explained the jockstraps to his wife, or whether maybe he hid them away from her. He never said.

Stripping down for the swap usually resulted in a bout of reunion sex before the trade, like what happened on our second trip. Seeing each other every day at work for weeks on end and never being able to do anything built up a lot of sexual tension. Sometimes we had to run to a dinner appointment the night of our arrival because we’d been balling just before, but we always made it on time.

Those quickies were great fun, and left enough cum in us for the long sessions after we came in at night, agreeably high from social drinking and horny with anticipation. We could barely get our clothes off fast enough, in fact one or another of us sometimes kept his jock on for a while. After all, leg straps and waistbands were handy to grab onto while giving head or eating ass, and pouches made great facemasks or cum receptacles.

Though Ethan had made the initial plunge back into mansex with surprising ease, that didn’t mean he was going to do anything and everything. Like many married men he had definite limits as far as sex with another man was concerned. It became my little project to break down his inhibitions one by one. If I couldn’t get him to do something, well, there was always the next trip. I was a patient man.

The times where I succeeded in getting him to break a taboo he’d had for himself were the most memorable. One especially is still burned into my brain.

It was one of the rare times on our trips that things hadn’t gone well on the business end. This particular client was indecisive and demanding, a particularly irritating combination. We trudged to our hotel room at the end of a long afternoon meeting, feeling pretty down. Ethan tried to cheer me up.

“Look on the bright side, buddy,” he said. “Mixner’s pretty much said the deal’s not going to happen, so we don’t have to get up early tomorrow just to go grovel some more.”

“I suppose,” I replied. “But I still hate spoiling our perfect record.”

“What do you mean, spoil?” Ethan winked. “We swapped our jocks first thing, just like always.”

I smiled and my spirits lifted a little. “And you know what that means.”

Twenty minutes later we were on the bed, me underneath, having a pre-dinner fuck, which I for one badly needed after the stressful day. Ethan apparently did too, judging from the force of his thrusts and the foulness of his language. Ever since the first time when I’d encouraged him he’d loved to talk dirty during sex. Today, though, there was an extra edge to his verbal abuse.

“Take it, fucker. Take it up your queer ass,” he muttered.

Usually such talk from Ethan drove me wild, especially while his cock was reaming my hole. Today, though, I found myself getting irritated. This stuff I didn’t need after getting flack all day from our client. I thought of a way to get him back.

“Queer, eh? At least I know what I am.”

Ethan pulled up short. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

A little voice inside me warned me not to cross the line, but I was in no mood to listen.

“Admit it. We’re lovers. You’re as queer as I am.”

His eyes narrowed. “You calling me queer?”

I knew I was playing with fire, but I was enjoying his discomfiture. I smiled.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re not man enough to kiss me.”

Ethan’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t expected this. “What?” was all he could say. I was on a roll.

“That’s right. You don’t have the guts. C’mon, I dare you.”

His face darkened like a thundercloud, and he raised his arm. A thrill of real fear rose in me-for a split second I thought I’d pushed him too far. He was going to wallop me, helpless, impaled on his monster cock, still hard as steel up my ass.

Then his hand clamped around the back of my head, shoving it up toward his face. His lips came down on mine, hard, shutting off my air supply. My first shocked reaction to the assault was to open my mouth, and his tongue drove inside. Trapped, I struggled and whimpered, but couldn’t escape.

There was no choice except to kiss him back.

I have no idea how long we sucked face. When he released me my lips were bruised, my tongue sore, my cheeks scraped with beard burn. I took a deep breath and went back for more.

Finally we broke apart for good and I fell back on the bed. Ethan grinned, his humor restored.

“Now, what was that about not being man enough?”

I licked my tender lips.

“Real men can kiss. You’re a real man.”

“A god among men. And don’t you forget it,” Ethan said, as he grabbed my cock to finish me off.

“Yes sir, oh yes sir,” I cried as he stroked the load out of me and over my stomach. I don’t remember much else about that trip, but my prostate sure must have taken a beating.

Even after that Ethan didn’t kiss me much, but that first one lasted me a long time. There was just one more prize to be won from him, and I did grab the big one eventually. It’s the one part of this tale that makes me a bit sad telling it, because it happened on our last journey together.

What I remember most about Ethan was his drive to succeed. I liked to think of myself as a hard worker but I came off as lazy next to him. Almost from the time we became regular partners on these trips he told me that he didn’t intend to stay in his current position forever. He was after bigger and better things.

“Mike, I’ve got a wife and kid,” he said. “I’ve got to make the most of it. Not so I can have nice things, but so they can.”

I’d nod and tell him how much I admired his dedication to his family. I had to grin and bear the knowledge that I didn’t figure into any future plans he had. When he left, that would be the end for us. Of course I hoped it would never come to pass.

But with anyone as ambitious and as competent as Ethan it was only a matter of time. One day, about a week before another business jaunt together, I saw him come out of the boss’s office with an expression on his face that made me pause.

I caught up with him as strode down the hallway toward the elevator.

“Hey, what’s up?”

He turned, looking starched and spiffy in dress shirt and tie. After all this time seeing him took my breath away. “Oh, hey,” Ethan said. He hesitated, then made up his mind. “Keep this under your hat for a while, okay?”

I listened as he talked in a low voice, a smile fixed on my face, my heart sinking. The corporate name he said was one we all dream about.

When he finished, I grasped his upper arm and looked him in the eye.

“Congratulations. That’s great. So does that mean the trip’s off?”

Ethan shook his head. “I gave a month’s notice so they can find someone and have me train them. So we’re still going.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that.” He punched me on the arm and started to walk away. “Let’s get together and plan real soon, you hear?” he said over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said, knowing he couldn’t hear me. I stood looking at the floor for a moment. Just like that, it was over.

I dealt with the news by not dealing with it. I did my job, met with him to prepare our presentations and plan our strategy. Ethan never mentioned his impending departure, either, not before we left on the trip and not even while we were on the plane.

It wasn’t until we were in the hotel room that he brought it up.

“Are you wearing one?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I said.

“Well, you know,” he said, looking down at his feet. He didn’t want to say that it would be the last time we’d do this.

In reply I unbuckled my belt and let my pants fall. I was wearing the old Bike No. 10 that I had brought on the first trip–the jock that had started it all.

“This is for you. You’d better have brought mine back.”

He grinned in relief. “Oh yeah I did, don’t worry.”

He unzipped his fly and the elastic, webbed pouch came into view. I cupped it in my hand, and the momentary awkwardness between us disappeared.

They say that the best sex comes toward the end of a relationship, not at the beginning, and that was certainly true for Ethan and me. Any spare moment we had during that trip we were at each other, in every conceivable position. Ethan discarded his inhibitions about kissing and we made out like teenagers.

We also discarded the rubbers. We’d known for a long time we were both safe, and the only people we fooled around with were each other. I wanted Ethan to know the joys of bareback sex, and I wanted his load up my ass–it would be keeping a small part of him with me. I’ll always remember how his big his eyes got the first time he slipped his unhooded dick into me.

“Oh God that’s sweet,” he moaned later, as he shot. I squeezed my ass muscles around his shaft as it delivered the cargo to its destination.

“You’re the first man in fifteen years to do that,” I told him. “I hope I get pregnant.”

Ethan shook his head. “Mike, you’re weird,” he said, for the umpteenth time.

But the best was yet to come. It was our last night. We’d closed the deal successfully, our last together, gone out and splurged on a really expensive dinner (I put it on my own credit card, not wanting to get flack from the company), and were back for a private celebration in the room. I had him on his back on the bed with his legs in the air, still wearing my Bike No. 10, moaning and thrashing as I ate out his hairy hole for all I was worth.

Finally I gave myself a breather and straightened up. He was looking at me with those killer eyes, as tender as I had ever seen him.

“I love putting my tongue up your hole,” I told him.

“Want to put something else up there?”

For a moment I couldn’t believe my ears. “What?” I said, like a total fool.

Ethan smiled. “You’ve been bugging me for months. Now’s your chance. Fuck me.”

I was incredulous. “You really want to?”

“You heard me. Now hurry up before I change my mind.”

I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the lube. Back on the bed I squeezed some out onto my hand. Ethan smiled, reassuring me that no, he hadn’t changed his mind.

“Okay, here goes,” I said, and slipped one finger into his hole, feeling the smooth flesh inside tighten around it. “Does it hurt?” I asked. He shook his head. Encouraged, I snaked it in until I felt the firm knob of his prostate and began to work it. His face came to life as the new sensations coursed through him.

“Mm, that’s nice.”

I slipped in a second finger to open him up some more. Finally I thought he was ready. I slipped the jock off of him, greased myself up, and got into position between his legs, putting his feet on my shoulders. My slick cockhead pressed lightly against his hole. “All systems go, buddy?” I asked him.

He nodded, eyes shining. I grasped my rod and began to push forward, feeling his flesh resist, then give way. The next moment my head slipped past his tight ring and I was in. Ethan cried out in pain, something I’d expected. I stopped moving.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going any further. Just try and relax. Breathe.”

For long seconds there was no sound except for Ethan panting, trying to obey me. Then a long sigh as I began to slide further into his canal. I had him.

In another moment my balls were pressed against his butt, his knees were against his chest and my face was inches from his. “How do you feel, Ethan?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer for a moment. Then he spoke.

“I’ve been waiting all my life for you to come along and fill me up. I thought I’d felt everything I could–but I was wrong, Mike. I’ll never forget this.”

I stared into his liquid eyes, then pressed my lips to his. We stayed locked together in that kiss as I began to thrust into him. Muffled moans and other noises began to come from both of us as I fucked him harder and faster. His lips moved against mine and finally he broke away with a shout.

“Fuck me, Mike, do it!”

“You got it,” I muttered, jack hammering his hole as I rushed toward completion. Rhythmic cries of “Ah, ah,” rose from my throat and eventually became one long wail as I exploded in spurt after spurt into Ethan’s gut, filling him with my seed. My hand, which had been grasping Ethan’s cock, tightened around it as I felt it let loose with its own milky blasts. I caught as much as I could before I brought my hand up to his mouth and flattened it against his face, making him eat his own load. After he’d gotten what he could with his tongue I stuck my fingers in his mouth one by one for him to clean off.

Finally we lay finished, exhausted, stinking of sex, sweat and semen. Ethan raised his head and kissed me. I licked a stray drop of cum off his goatee.

“Was it okay?” I asked him.

He snorted, but gently. “What do you think?”

“I’m thinking,” I said, “I’d like to do it again.”

He winked. “The night is young.”

The morning of our departure dawned gray and overcast, a perfect reflection of our mood. We packed in silence, until Ethan held up an article of clothing that had been lying on the floor, forgotten in the sexual frenzy of the last night.

“So I’m going to keep this jock, right?” he asked. It was my old Bike that I’d peeled off of him last night, just before I took his ass.

“Yep,” I told him. “As long you have it, it means we’ll do this again someday.”

“You really think so?”

I grasped him by the shoulders. “Tell you what, Ethan. If you decide it’ll never happen again…if there’s not a chance we’ll ever get together…mail it back to me. That way I’ll know.”

He perked up a little. “Like a ‘Dear Jock’ letter?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Hey, that’s pretty funny.” I hugged him, hard. “I’m going to miss you, big fella.”

“So will I, Mike,” Ethan said against my shoulder. “You’ve been the best.”

I squeezed my eyes tight shut to keep the tears from starting.

I only touched Ethan one more time, at a going-away dinner some of the people from the office had for him. It was after his next-to-last day at the company, in a private banquet room at a Chinese restaurant downtown.

Dore, his wife, was there, with their baby boy asleep in a bassinet in the corner of the room. She spent much of the evening checking on him but I did chat with her for a few moments. She was pretty and totally pleasant, which made me feel worse.

“Ethan’s really enjoyed working with you,” she said. “He would have quit way before now if it hadn’t been for those projects. Thanks for making his time here happier.”

There was nothing I could say except, “My pleasure.” Which was the truth.

There were the usual toasts and roasts and raucous laughter. I saw some of the women dabbing at their eyes–he had been well liked at the company, not just by me. Finally the party broke up. Ethan worked the crowd of us gathered at the exit, hugging everyone he could get his hands on.

He got to me and threw one arm around my shoulder, fixing me with a slightly drunken stare. “Farewell, O partner in crime,” he said. Then he grabbed my face and kissed me full on the lips, drawing back with an exaggerated smack.

Gasps and giggles broke out around us. My face was flaming. I did the only thing I could think of, putting my arm around him and bending him backward toward the floor like we were two tango dancers. With my other hand I held his head and gave him an equally outsize, sloppy kiss back. Our colleagues roared with laughter and burst into applause. The next minute I was out on the sidewalk, heading toward the parking garage, my head spinning.

Driving home was hazardous, not only because I was close to the legal limit but because I was alternately laughing and crying.

I called in sick the next day. I had a king-sized hangover, and couldn’t stand the thought of encountering Ethan carrying boxes as he cleaned out his stuff.

All this was five years ago. I haven’t seen Ethan since. He still e-mails at the end of the year to wish me happy holidays, and talks about coming to visit. He never has, though, and really, why would he? We’ve both moved on–I left the company soon after he did, and he’s now in an executive position and busier than ever. What we had was a special deal and it won’t happen again. Still, I miss the camaraderie of our trips together, not to mention the hot sex. I’ve never met another straight man so comfortable with his body, or the idea of sharing it once in a while with another man.

I will say this, though: he’s never sent back the Bike No. 10 that I gave him that last trip. And he knows my address. I’m not holding my breath, of course, but it’s nice to think there’s still a chance it might happen again. Maybe this is the year Ethan will make it back to town for a Christmas visit. If he ever does, I’ll book a local hotel room for a little party. And I know exactly what presents we’ll exchange.

“END”