Contents
- The Pirate’s Greatest Treasure
- A Sidekick Never Backs Down
- Charming the Prince, Part 1
- Charming the Prince, Part 2
- Charming the Prince, Part 3
- Scared Stiff, Part 1
- Scared Stiff, Part 2
- Scared Stiff, Part 3
- Scared Stiff, Part 4
- Love at First Loincloth, Part 1
- Love at First Loincloth, Part 2
- Love at First Loincloth, Part 3
- Love at First Loincloth, Part 4
- Taking the Step, Part 1
- Taking the Step, Part 2
- Taking the Step, Part 3
- Taking the Step, Part 4
- Taking the Step, Part 5
- Taking the Step, Part 6
- Taking the Step, Part 7
- Christmas Under Wraps, Part 1
- Christmas Under Wraps, Part 2
- Christmas Under Wraps, Part 3
- Christmas Under Wraps, Part 4
- Christmas Under Wraps, Part 5
- Christmas Under Wraps, Part 6
The Pirate’s Greatest Treasure
A Spicy M/M Historical Adventure Romance
The cobblestone punished Will’s body as he tumbled out into the street. Bones aching, he pulled himself upright. Whoever thought a guy could get thrown out of a tavern for not getting handsy with the barmaids?
It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the advances of his female admirers. It was simply a matter of virtue. Unfortunately, his code of honor had apparently sent the wrong signal.
Of course, Will knew of those sorts of blokes—the kind who, even in the shadows of a port-town brothel, were outcasts. But he wasn’t like that. He was simply waiting for the right girl to come along.
The trouble was, even if the right girl did come along, Will doubted she’d see anything in a scamp like him.
He didn’t consider himself unsightly—quite the opposite, in fact. But he knew he wasn’t exactly a muscle-bound Adonis, either. His slight build and fine features often left him feeling like he had more in common with the fairer sex than with the men he knew they desired.
Who were those men? That was easy. The men who were in control. Not the men who took control, mind you. The kind of men Will knew the girls lusted for never needed to prove their power. They were innately in charge. They were alphas.
They were, in fact, the spitting image of the stranger emerging from the mist before him.
A wave of heat rose in Will’s chest. Even in the nighttime shadows, the stranger’s chiseled figure commanded attention. It was as if something was calling to Will.
And then something—or someone—did call to him.
“There he is!”
The stranger’s confidence evaporated, his face contorting with panic. Will realized in that moment it wasn’t himself the unseen voice sought—it was the stranger.
“Kid!” the swarthy rogue gasped. “Tell them I ran toward the harbor.” He dove into the bushes outside the tavern. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”
A spark of curiosity lit up inside Will. Just what did this mysterious stranger have in mind?
Two watchmen arrived on the scene. “Which way did he go, son?”
Silence hung in the air as Will debated his options. Sure, he may not have been the most upstanding member of society, but still, he considered himself nothing if not loyal to the crown. He had a duty, hadn’t he, to aid Her Majesty’s forces against those who would flout social order?
“He went to the harbor.”
The watchmen nodded dutifully. “Stay clear of that one. He’s not the sort to get tangled up with.” The pair disappeared into the night.
The coast now clear, the stranger emerged from hiding. “Thanks, kid. You saved my keister.”
It was all Will could manage to nod in silence. Probably because he was still shaken from the surprise, he figured, as his eyes savored the contours of lean, rippling flesh hidden beneath the flows of the stranger’s shirt.
The stranger punched Will teasingly. “I don’t know about you, but all that excitement’s got me parched. What would you say to a tipple? On me.” He tossed a glance at the tavern.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
The stranger nodded knowingly. “I see.” He wrapped a muscled arm around Will. “Well, I must repay you somehow. Might I propose an alternative means of expressing my gratitude?”
Will cocked his head, puzzled. “An alternative?”
“Tell me, boy, have you ever considered a life at sea?”
A stammer escaped Will’s mouth.
“Come now, boy. It’s not exactly like you’ve got anything so great going on here.” He gestured out to the dank, gaslit street.
Will took stock of his surroundings, struggling to find an excuse. “Who are you?”
A roguish grin spread across the stranger’s face. “Me? I’m Captain Hardfellow.”
* * *
Will had never been aboard a ship before, but he figured a pirate ship was as good as any means of earning his sea legs. Initially, he’d worried that Poseidon’s domain would get the best of him, but to his pleasant surprise, he found the sea gave him new life.
He was glad, he’d decided, that he’d taken this chance. At first, he’d doubted whether trading the home he knew for a daredevil adventure on the high seas had been such a good idea, but so far, he’d found his fears without warrant.
Still, there was one concern that nagged at his mind. What was it the watchmen had said? Something about Hardfellow not being someone to tangle with? What exactly had they meant by that?
Just then, a firm pat to the shoulder pulled Will from his thoughts. “Sure beats picking pockets and sleeping in dirty alleys, doesn’t it?”
Will looked up at the Captain towering over him, relishing the vastness of the sea.
“How is this even possible?”
The Captain squeezed Will’s shoulders. “Stick with me, kid. You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He spun themselves around. “Here. Come meet my associates.”
To say Captain Hardfellow led a motley crew was an understatement if ever there was one. Will couldn’t imagine a more ragtag bunch had ever set sail across the seven seas.
First, there was Crusty. The only way Will could think to describe Crusty was one part beach hermit, another part rabies-ridden mole-rat.
Then there was Suds, who, as his name implied, did not appear to be the sort who was generally in a state of mind to be terribly useful aboard the ship.
And finally, there was Nerissa. Will had to admit, a female corsair was not something he’d expected. Nerissa was nothing like the girls back home. Will couldn’t imagine her answering to any man—maybe not even Captain Hardfellow.
“You must be the new cabin boy,” Nerissa said, her eyes giving Will a once-over. “It appears the Captain has lowered his standards.” She dismissed herself and ascended the crow’s nest.
Will felt the Captain’s reassuring grip return to his shoulder. “Don’t pay her any mind, boy. You don’t need to win anyone’s approval but mine.” He spun them around again. “Come, let’s get you out of these dirty clothes. I’ve got something picked out for you below deck.”
* * *
Down in the crew’s quarters, Will felt his doubts about this endeavor return. This was supposed to be his new home? He almost preferred the streets.
“I know she’s nothing fancy,” Hardfellow spoke, sensing Will’s hesitation. “But I’ve got a feeling you’ll become very comfortable here.” He motioned to a fresh set of clothes laid out on a cot. “Why don’t you put those on while I make the bed for you?”
The thought of changing in front of the Captain turned Will’s cheeks red. “Oh, you don’t need to do that.” He reached down to retrieve the clothes.
Without missing a beat, the Captain rested his hand atop Will’s. “Don’t be silly, lad. I want to. Trust me.”
Will swallowed a gulp. “You’re the Captain, I guess.”
Hardfellow winked. “Indeed.”
Seeing himself to the corner, Will began to disrobe. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. He’d been naked around plenty of guys before. Privacy wasn’t exactly a luxury one could afford on the streets. But somehow, this felt different. Hardfellow wasn’t just some guy. Hardfellow was…a man.
It was in that moment that Will became aware of a sensation below his belt. Shit, he thought to himself. This was not what he wanted to deal with right now. What if the Captain saw? At best, it would be the end of his time aboard the ship. At worst, it would be a one-way ticket down to Davy Jones’ locker.
Hardfellow tucked a fresh sheet into the bed. “What’s the holdup, son? If I were you, I’d think I’d jump at a chance for a change of clothes after what you’ve been through.”
Will nodded obediently. “Yes, sir.” Any more hesitation, and he knew he’d be sure to arouse suspicion. Quickly, he dropped his drawers and replaced them with his new pair from the Captain.
Hardfellow nodded approvingly. “Much better.”
Will couldn’t help but notice a glint in the Captain’s eye. What all had Hardfellow seen?
He’d have to worry about that later. Apparently, it was time for him to earn his keep.
“All right, my boy,” the Captain said as he finished making Will’s bed. “I run a tight ship, see? And that means everyone pitches in. Think you can do that?”
Will nodded timidly. “I think so, sir.”
Hardfellow smiled. “I knew I picked a good boy.” He wrapped his arm back around Will. “Come. Let me show you my stateroom. Your Captain has a job for you.”
* * *
Entering Hardfellow’s stateroom felt like stepping into another world. No expense had been spared in the lavish retreat’s design. If only I could shack up here, Will thought to himself.
“It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a good cabin boy,” Hardfellow said. “As you can see, the lack of a helping hand has left my stateroom for want of a bit of housekeeping.”
If Hardfellow was joking, he certainly didn’t show it. Never had Will seen such an immaculately maintained living space.
“Let me show you where to find what you’ll need.”
Confused, Will cocked his head. “Pardon?”
“The cleaning supplies, son. What did you think I meant?”
Will eyed his pristine surroundings. “Wouldn’t you rather I—I don’t know—swab the deck or something?”
The Captain tossed back a laugh. “Don’t be silly, boy. Crusty and Suds have that handled. This is a job for a special boy.” He pulled open a drawer from his desk.
Will’s knees nearly buckled at the sight laying before him.
“Heavens, forgive me, son,” Hardfellow gushed as he slammed the drawer shut. “I appear to have made a mix-up.” He shrugged with a grin. “Sometimes, my boy, the sea can become lonely. We all need a little…stimulation, you could say, to see ourselves through.”
Will nodded submissively, unable to find any words that wouldn’t have left him mortified.
The Captain arched an eyebrow. “You ever seen one of those before?”
Will shook his head.
The Captain smiled. “Don’t be embarrassed, my boy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Slowly, he pulled the drawer open again.
“What is it?” Will asked, wide-eyed.
Hardfellow furrowed his brow. “It’s a…well…I guess I don’t know what to call it rightly. But now you know why us pirates are all so crazed for booty.”
“You mean it’s for…?”
“Now you’re catching on.”
“But it looks like…”
“That’s the idea.”
Will shut the drawer. “You know what, I’m pretty sure I can find what I need myself.”
The Captain smiled mischievously. “I bet you will.” He turned to see himself out. “If you run into any trouble, remember, I won’t be far away.” He shut the door behind him.
A sigh escaped Will’s chest. This was not what he’d bargained for when he signed up for this. Gathering his wits, he turned his attention to the task at hand.
And that task was…? He rubbed his chin. If the Captain considered this messy, he didn’t know how he’d ever come to please him. He couldn’t imagine a more carefully manicured space. If you asked him, it was downright luxurious.
He eyed the plush bed at the head of the room. A far cry from sleeping in dirty alleyways, that was for sure.
What would it hurt if he gave it a try? Surely, the Captain wouldn’t mind. And when else would he have a chance to experience such luxury?
It was just like sleeping on clouds. Will couldn’t believe this was what he’d been missing all this time. The question was, how could he become a captain someday so he could sleep like this?
He eyed the drawer across the room. If Hardfellow was to be believed, then life at sea wasn’t all pleasure. He wondered how long a man would have to go without the touch of a woman to turn to such a device—a device for…your booty.
Was there something to it? The thought hadn’t crossed his mind before, but now that he’d seen one up close, he knew he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued.
He opened the drawer.
His first observation upon handling the foreign object was its remarkable girth. His next realization was its substantial heft.
He explored the plaything’s contours. Were there actually men with members the size of this behemoth? Surely, this had to be an exaggeration.
Slowly, he brought the object close. It must have been made of some sort of bronze. He imagined how the Captain must have used this forbidden wonder. Could it really have been that such a formidable device brought pleasure upon men?
He opened his welcoming mouth. The insert was cold at first, but before long at all, the heat of his orifice gave it warmth.
He breathed slowly and steadily, allowing the phallus to loosen his throat.
It wasn’t half bad, he decided. He wondered if the Captain was hung like this.
Without warning, the door swung open. “One thing I forgot to mention…” Hardfellow stopped in his tracks. A smile appeared on his face. “My, it appears you have a talent.”
Mortified, Will threw the object back in the drawer. “Forgive me, Captain. It’ll never happen again.”
Hardfellow clicked his tongue. “Pity.”
Before Will could respond, though, a powerful blow to the ship knocked him from his feet.
“I’m afraid we’ve hit rough seas,” Hardfellow declared. “All hands on deck.” He raced to rally his crew. “I repeat, all hands on deck!”
* * *
A crash of surf sprayed Will’s face as he emerged from Hardfellow’s chamber. Clinging to the mast, he braced himself as waves tossed the ship.
“Where did this come from?”
The Captain didn’t pause for a moment as he raced to raise the sails. “We’ve reached open water.” He tugged the rigging fervently. “Storms like these can come at a moment’s notice.”
Will joined the crew in their efforts to stabilize the ship.
“Faster, ye scurvy dogs!” Hardfellow boomed.
Muscles burning, Will pulled with all his might against the unforgiving winds. It was times like these when one of those powerhouse, Adonis-type bodies would have come in handy.
He spied the Captain in the corner of his eye. Drenched in rain, his loose shirt clung to his bulging, sculpted chest. Will swallowed hard. Apparently, Hardfellow lived up to his name.
Time stood still as Will fixed his gaze on his Captain. Hardfellow’s body was nothing like his own. While Will was certainly lean, his young physique paled in comparison to the Captain’s solid, sturdy, manly build.
Licking his lips, Will watched as rivulets of rainwater traced the contours of Hardfellow’s muscles. He was glad the Captain was here to fight the storm’s grip on their sails.
There was something strangely beautiful about it. The primal struggle, the unbridled force, the exhibition of power. It was man against nature, and it had Will captivated.
Locked in battle, Hardfellow pulled again at the rigging. Will marveled in awe at his stamina.
“We need to get out of this storm!” called Nerissa. “The ship won’t take this much longer.”
The Captain tugged stubbornly at the rigging. “I hate to break it to you, lass, but there isn’t solid ground for miles.”
Just then, almost as if on cue, Will thought he spied a form on the horizon. He narrowed his eyes. Was that…?
“Land!” he cried.
* * *
The island was unlike anyplace Will had ever seen. He’d read about far-off lands plenty, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d ever set foot on terrain such as this.
It was certainly fertile ground. The dense jungle teemed with exotic vegetation.
Vegetation that could be hiding a predator ready to pounce at any moment.
Will swallowed a gulp. He knew the laws of nature—specifically, that she often used beauty to hide something more deadly.
Suddenly, Will found himself even more thankful he had the Captain here to protect him.
“All right, crew,” Hardfellow said, “look alive. We’re on uncharted territory here.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Captain,” Crusty replied. “Look!”
All eyes followed as Crusty pointed to a tattered sheet of paper on the ground.
Hardfellow knelt to pick it up. “It’s a map.” His face lit up as he interpreted its markings. “And not just any map. This is a treasure map.” He slapped Crusty on the back. “Excellent work, Crusty. Turns out you’re good for something, after all.”
A tinge of jealousy stung in Will’s chest at the sight of the Captain congratulating Crusty. He couldn’t explain why, but he found himself wishing it could have been him who’d pleased Hardfellow so.
He spun around to distance himself from the group.
It was a shame he hadn’t noticed the exposed tree root at his feet.
The next thing Will knew, he was lying on the ground. A sharp pain throbbed in his ankle.
He grimaced angrily. Just what he needed. Not only was he failing to pull his weight, now he was also making the Captain think he was a weakling.
Hardfellow knelt next to him. “Are you OK, son?”
Will did his best to shake it off, but the moment he tried to stand, his ankle buckled beneath him.
The Captain sensed his cabin boy’s frustration. “Don’t push yourself, Will.”
A collective groan issued from the crew. “Nice going, kid. Now how are we supposed to find this treasure before we lose daylight?”
Hardfellow shooed them away. “You all go on without us. I’ll stay back with Will here until he’s better, then we’ll catch up to you.”
Nerissa released a scoff. “It’s about time we cut the dead weight.” With that, she and the others disappeared into the trees.
* * *
“She’s wrong, you know,” Hardfellow said. Carrying Will in his arms, he’d set off toward a nearby natural pool where they could replenish their thirst.
Will let himself sink into the Captain’s solid embrace, the sound of his heartbeat pulsing in his ear. “Wrong about what?”
“About you, silly boy.” He gave Will a squeeze. “You’re not dead weight—not to me.”
A wave of excitement rose in Will’s chest. Held close, he savored Hardfellow’s masculine aroma. Here they were on a desert isle, their ship probably too damaged to ever sail again, and yet in the Captain’s arms, Will couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever felt safer.
“Ah, here we are,” Hardfellow said. He set Will down at the edge of the water. “Dip your feet in. That water will have your ankle feeling better in no time.”
Obediently, Will did as he was told. Gazing down into the pool, he eyed the reflection of the Captain standing overhead. Hardfellow was practically a giant next to him.
Suddenly, the Captain’s reflection did something Will couldn’t believe.
He spun around to face him. “Uh, Captain?” His voice was meek. “What are you doing?”
Hardfellow removed his shirt. “Well, since we’re here, I thought I’d take a rinse.”
Gawking, Will tried to muster a response, but it was as if his mouth had suddenly lost its ability to form words.
Hardfellow’s chest loomed even bigger up close. The sight of his powerful muscles sent a thrill coursing through Will’s body. Hungrily, his eyes took in every inch of Hardfellow’s chiseled torso.
Covering the Captain’s breast was a virile coat of thick, black hair. The sight of the manly curls spreading out across Hardfellow’s skin sent Will’s heartbeat racing. He wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through such a carpet.
“I take it that’s a yes?”
Will snapped out of his stupor. Shit, how long had he been ogling?
“Uh, sure. I mean, of course.”
A hint of a smile flickered across the Captain’s face. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” He kicked off his pants and waded into the water.
Watching from behind, Will savored the view of Hardfellow’s firm, full buttocks disappearing below the surface. He crossed his legs discreetly to hide the growing bulge inside his pants.
Thankfully, the Captain didn’t seem to notice. Will breathed a sigh of relief. If Hardfellow ever caught on to his secret desires, Will knew he’d die of embarrassment.
How he’d continue to hide his cravings, though, was becoming an increasingly hard—emphasis on hard—question.
What had gotten into him? He’d never felt this way before. What was it about the Captain that fueled Will’s fascination?
He was beyond Will in years by at least a decade. He might have been old enough, in fact, to be Will’s father. Never had Will found a mature man so alluring, but something about the Captain made him insatiable.
His mind wandered as he watched the Captain bathe himself. His heart became possessed with urges—urges to serve the Captain, urges to satisfy the Captain, urges to belong to the Captain.
And then the urges spread to his body. He’d never gotten a chance to fully experience Hardfellow’s novelty, but suddenly he understood the desire for such a device. His body urged to be filled, to be used, to be a vessel.
Maybe even a vessel for the Captain.
He shook himself out of it. What was he thinking? The Captain was, well, the Captain. Meanwhile, he was just a cabin boy. It would be entirely inappropriate—a figure of authority having relations with a subordinate. And besides, what interest would a brave and brawny pirate take in a rescued street urchin?
His gaze fell back to the Captain. The notion may have been a fantasy, but that sure wouldn’t stop Will from dreaming.
“How’s that ankle feeling?”
Will wiggled his foot beneath the water. “Wow, you were right. I feel much better!”
Hardfellow nodded as if pleased with himself. “You should see how good it feels to dip your whole body in.”
Will felt like someone had just set loose a flock of butterflies inside his stomach. Did he just hear what he thought he’d heard? Surely, it must have been his imagination.
“C’mon, boy. The water’s fine. What are you waiting for?”
Nope, not his imagination.
“Oh, I don’t know, Captain. I’m not much of a swimmer.”
Hardfellow released a scoff. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”
Will felt his chest tighten. The last thing he wanted was for the Captain to think him a wimp. After his little tree root incident, perhaps this was his chance to redeem himself.
“Of course not. I’m not embarrassed.”
Legs shaking, he began to disrobe. Was this really happening?
Thankfully, his erection had softened—probably out of sheer terror, Will figured. He only hoped it would stay that way. Otherwise, he’d have some major explaining to do.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Hardfellow encouraged as Will joined him in the pool.
He was right, Will decided. The water was perfect. Sparkling across the surface, sunlight warmed the glimmering pool. The water was clear unlike anything Will had ever seen before. It was certainly a far cry from the dirty gutters he was accustomed to back home.
Overhead, rays of sun filtered through the lush, green canopy. Will felt like he’d become weightless. It was hard to imagine a paradise like this actually existed. Will wished in that moment this could last forever.
“I’m glad you’re here, Will.” The Captain’s voice was soft, tender.
Will lowered his eyes as he blushed. “But why am I here?”
A chuckle escaped Hardfellow. “Don’t tell me you’re missing life on the streets?”
“No, nothing like that,” Will clarified. “I guess what I mean is, why did you take me in?”
The Captain nodded thoughtfully. The silence seemed to stretch into eternity as Hardfellow selected his words.
Finally, he spoke. “Because,” he said, “you and I are the same.”
Will sized themselves up, the Captain’s beefy, hairy body against his own lean frame. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“No, silly boy,” Hardfellow corrected. “What I mean is, you and I are the same inside.” Beneath the water, he took hold of Will’s hand.
A surge of electricity shot up Will’s arm and into his body. “How can you tell?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Hardfellow replied. “The way your face turns red when you look at me. The way you’re determined to earn my approval.” He directed his gaze down into the water. “The way your cock is hardening right now.”
Will followed the Captain’s glance and nearly shrieked. There was no mistaking it through the crystal-clear water. His member was on a fast track to a full-scale hard-on.
“I—I—I can explain,” Will stammered.
The Captain smiled warmly. “What’s to explain, my boy? It’s only natural.” He glanced down again. “See? Mine’s doing it, too.”
Again, Will followed the Captain’s gaze. He nearly lost his breath at the sight below. That wasn’t a penis—it was a sea monster.
“And that’s not even fully hard,” the Captain said with a wink.
Will felt his knees go weak.
“So, what do you say?” Hardfellow asked.
“Say?” Will cocked his head. “About what?”
Hardfellow chortled, amused. “Shiver me timbers, boy. Do I have to spell it out? The crew’s away, we’ve got this hidden paradise to ourselves, and let’s face it, we both know we’ve been wanting this since we first laid eyes on each other.”
Will considered what the Captain had said. He certainly had a point. And the longer Will spent alongside Hardfellow, the stronger his desires became.
Without another word, Will pressed his lips against the Captain’s.
* * *
Will wasn’t sure how long his mouth had been locked with Hardfellow’s. All he knew was he never wanted it to end. At some point, the pair had progressed from the water to a sandy patch along the shoreline. When exactly that had occurred, Will wasn’t able to say. He’d been completely swept away by the Captain’s embrace, surrendering to his control.
Bodies pressed together, the two men rolled across the beach. Will didn’t even mind getting covered in sand. What was there to complain about when he belonged to the Captain?
“Oh, no,” Hardfellow said. “Look what you’ve done.” He glanced toward their manhoods.
Following suit, Will gaped in awe. Just as Hardfellow had promised, his cock was even bigger when fully erect.
“Full mast,” the Captain said with a smile.
“It’s…it’s…” Will swallowed a gulp. “It’s incredible.”
Hardfellow chuckled. “Yours isn’t so bad either, if I do say so myself.”
Will shifted his gaze to his own member. Truth be told, he’d never seen himself so hard. Apparently, the Captain did something to him. And whatever it was, he never wanted it to end.
But even despite Will’s throbbing dick, he was no match for the Captain. Hardfellow had a manhood in every sense of the word. It might as well have been a spyglass hanging between his legs.
Will licked his lips as he eyed Hardfellow’s cock hungrily. At the base, a thick bush of hair asserted the Captain’s masculinity. Running down the shaft, a full, pulsing vein spanned the girthy member. And then at the tip, a fat, juicy head was already beginning to leak.
“So, what? You’re just going to look at it?” Hardfellow asked.
“What do I do?”
“I think you’ll figure it out.”
Slowly, Will gripped his hand around the base of his Captain’s cock. The firmness sent tingles through his system. He attempted to wrap his fingers all the way around, but he knew there was no way he could encapsulate something so thick—not with his hand, at least.
The Captain sighed with pleasure. “You’ve got a good grip on you, son.”
Encouraged, Will worked his hand up and down Hardfellow’s cock, taking care to stroke from base to tip. The Captain deserved to be pleasured, he knew, and he wanted to please Hardfellow like he’d never been pleased before.
“How’s that feel?”
“Good,” the Captain replied, “but I know something that’ll feel even better.”
The next thing Will knew, his head was being pushed toward Hardfellow’s crotch.
“I saw what you did with that replica. Now it’s time for you to experience the real thing.”
Inches away from the Captain’s cock, Will knew he’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t intimidated. Hardfellow’s meat was truly king-size. How was he supposed to fit his mouth around something like that?
There was only one way to find out, he figured. Taking a firm grip at the base, Will planted a kiss on the tip of Hardfellow’s cock. Already, it was savory with precum. Will licked it up eagerly.
The Captain’s manhood pulsed in Will’s hand as his body writhed in pleasure. Will smiled to himself. Apparently, some time had passed since Hardfellow had been serviced like this.
Suddenly, it felt as if their roles had been reversed. Now it was Will who was in control. A sense of power came over him. He had something the Captain craved. And he was going to milk it—figuratively and literally—for all it was worth.
He lowered his lips around Hardfellow’s member. The giant cock filled his mouth until Will wasn’t sure how much more he could fit.
“Atta boy,” the Captain spoke. “Just go nice and slow.”
As if on cue, Will felt his windpipe loosen. He pushed his mouth further down Hardfellow’s shaft. The tip was now throbbing against the back of his throat. Down below, Will felt his own manhood pulsing at the sensation of his Captain penetrating his welcome mouth.
He began to stroke his own dick, but the Captain swatted his hand away. “I’ll tell you when you can do that.”
Will complied obediently. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he said, although the words came out muffled through his cock-stuffed mouth.
Redoubling his efforts, Will pushed himself to swallow Hardfellow’s cock deeper. It was no easy feat with a piece of wood like this. But a cabin boy’s job was to serve his Captain, and Will was bound and determined not to leave the job half-done. Breathing in deep through his nose, Will focused on loosening his throat, savoring the pressure of Hardfellow’s manhood pushing deeper.
The next thing Will knew, his nose was buried in the Captain’s manly bush. He almost came then and there. The entirety of Hardfellow’s cock had been shoved down his throat.
He began to suck. He sucked hungrily, ravenously, as if life itself came from the Captain’s phallus. He became carnal, like a beast. Never had he felt this way. Unconcerned. Uninhibited. Free. He slobbered his saliva on the juicy meat before him.
“Whoa, boy,” the Captain said. “Don’t give me the Jolly Roger just yet. I’ve got plans for you.” He yanked Will’s reluctant mouth off his quivering cock.
The next thing Will knew, the Captain had spun him around.
“What are you doing?”
Hardfellow pushed Will’s head to the ground. “I think you’ve earned yourself a break, boy.”
Will was about to ask what the Captain meant, but Hardfellow beat him to it.
“Holyyy…”
The Captain had buried his face in Will’s hindquarters.
“Jesus, Captain.”
“You like that?”
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
The admission sent the Captain into overdrive. Writhing against the sand, Will moaned in passion as Hardfellow sampled his hole.
Not a single corner was cut. Clearly, the Captain knew what he was doing. Electricity coursed through Will’s body as Hardfellow’s tongue twirled through the fine, blond hairs between his cheeks. Will felt desired, wanted, needed.
“Fuuuck.”
The Captain doubled down. Will squirmed as Hardfellow’s teeth gripped his hungry ass.
A wad of spit landed between his cheeks.
“Think you’re ready for more?”
Will swallowed hard. Truthfully, he didn’t know how much more he could take.
But he sure was eager to find out.
“Yes, Captain.”
Trembles shot through his body as Hardfellow slapped his engorged manhood against the entrance to Will’s receiving end. Steeling himself, Will braced for what was to come.
He’d never been penetrated before. Would it hurt? Would it feel good? One thing was for sure—with a massive package like Hardfellow’s, Will was in for a ride he wouldn’t soon forget.
Nothing like taking your maiden voyage on the Leviathan.
The Captain pressed the head of his cock against Will’s hole. Wincing, the lad tensed his body.
“Everything OK, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We don’t have to do this, you know…”
Silence hung between them as Will, prostrate, considered his reply.
“I want you to fuck me, Captain.”
A low growl rumbled behind him. Will could practically feel Hardfellow’s body expanding in a long, deep breath.
“This is my kind of booty.”
Shockwaves tore through Will’s body as the Captain’s bare, solid cock entered his yearning hole.
“Ahhh!”
The Captain paused his advance, the head of his appendage just inside Will’s threshold. “Just relax, boy.”
Will did as instructed. Breathing deep, he focused his thoughts. Never before had he wanted to please someone like this. Not out of fear, not out of duty. It was a desire—a passion—to give the Captain pleasure. Of all the cabin boys Hardfellow could have chosen, it had been Will he had picked, and now Will was determined to make his Captain satisfied in his choice.
“That’s it, son.”
A moan of delight escaped Will’s mouth as Hardfellow’s girthy member slid unresisted into his warm, welcoming hole. A perfect fit.
“So this is why they call you Hardfellow.”
“That name ain’t just for show.”
“Oh, yeah? Let’s see.”
The Captain didn’t need to be told twice. Gripping Will’s trim waist, he began to plow.
Hardfellow fucked fearlessly. He fucked relentlessly. He fucked like Will didn’t know men could fuck.
“Don’t stop, Captain. Whatever you do, please don’t stop.”
Will’s wish was Hardfellow’s command. Flipping him onto his back, the Captain loomed over the lad.
“I knew I picked the right cabin boy.” With that, he thrusted his meat back inside Will’s hole.
Will liked this position even better. Pinned underneath the Captain, he surrendered his body to Hardfellow’s desires.
“Harder, Captain. Harder.”
Wordless, the Captain poured every ounce of his energy into pounding his boy’s hole. And pound it he did. Picking up speed, Hardfellow pummeled his cabin boy below him.
The Captain’s cock felt amazing. Ramming, pounding, filling, owning—never had Will imagined such pleasure could exist between men.
He savored the performance taking place above him. With every thrust, the Captain’s big, hairy bear chest flexed. And to think this man—this man—was inside him right now.
Will glanced down at his own rod as it brushed against Hardfellow’s abdomen. The fur on the Captain’s abs tickled the head of Will’s cock, amplifying the pleasure he was receiving from behind.
He laid back on the sand, savoring his surroundings. Here he was on a tropical island paradise, not a care in the world, getting torn in two by quite possibly the hottest man he had ever laid eyes on. Not a bad day, if he did say so himself.
The Captain closed the distance between them. His breath became labored.
“I don’t think I can last much longer.”
Will savored the weight of Hardfellow’s body pressed against his own. The flesh, the sweat, the masculinity.
He began to stroke his own cock.
Hardfellow inhaled sharply. Through the Captain’s penetrating manhood, Will could feel all of Hardfellow tense. He thrusted his body to bury the Captain’s cock deeper inside him.
“Oh, fuck, Will.”
The eruption was coming. Hungrily, Will slammed his hole against Hardfellow’s pelvis, the magnificent cock connecting them as one.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Will, I’m going to cum in you. I’m going to give you my load.”
The Captain was a man of his word. With an explosion truly worthy of the high seas, a blast of semen filled Will’s virgin, young hole. It was warm, it was juicy, it was something only a true man could produce.
Will shot a load like he’d never shot before.
Cum on his chest, cum in his hole, Will couldn’t imagine a moment of greater bliss.
“The others would probably like some help hunting for that treasure,” he said.
“Oh, Will,” the Captain replied. “My greatest treasure is already here.”
A Sidekick Never Backs Down
A Spicy M/M Sci-Fi Superhero Romance
Protecting Central City from the forces of evil wasn’t exactly how Zip Rogers had anticipated spending his early twenties, but hey, he’d always said he’d hate getting stuck in a desk job. Ever since he’d fallen into that radioactive pool at White Party, he’d found he had a different calling. And now, life would never be the same.
Luckily, the city’s resident hero, an Adonis by the name of Mighty Man, had taken Zip in to show him the ropes. After all, it wasn’t like you could just waltz into your local bookstore and find a manual for freshly minted supers.
But while Zip was thankful for the guidance, his role as Mighty Man’s sidekick was beginning to grow old. He was ready, he knew, to take on more, but under Mighty Man’s wing, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being held back.
The biggest thorn in his side? That damn wonder ring—a superhero’s version of a membership card. It could only be bestowed upon a new super by a more seasoned hero—and only once said new super had proven himself worthy.
Zip coveted the wonder ring Mighty Man wore. Why wouldn’t he finally admit Zip was ready for one, too?
“Power Boy, look out!”
The sound of Mighty Man’s voice snapped Zip back to reality. That was the other thing that grinded his gears—the hero name Mighty Man had given him. He wasn’t a boy anymore. Why couldn’t he be Power Man? You might as well have just called him Power Bottom.
Which may have been true, but that was beside the point.
“Power Boy, duck!”
Zip suddenly registered the giant robot fist hurtling toward him. In the nick of time, he dodged the iron torpedo.
That was a close one, he thought to himself as he surveyed the cityscape below. Flying was one of his newer abilities, and he was still learning to master his wings, so to speak.
“Mighty Man,” cursed the fiend inside the cranium cockpit of the fifty-foot terror of steel, “your days in Central City are through!”
“That’s what you think, Dr. Dreadful,” Mighty Man replied, “but I’ve got other plans in store.”
Angrily, Dr. Dreadful fired up a laser from inside his giant menace. A bright red beam shot out from the robot’s eyes.
And blasted right into the Central City Financial Tower.
Zip couldn’t help but notice his mentor’s distress. The pair had been fighting Dr. Dreadful across downtown. It was becoming increasingly clear that Mighty Man was running out of ideas. Sure, they both had super-strength, but even so, they were no match for the brute force of a ten-ton robot.
Just then, Zip had an idea. If they couldn’t outmuscle Dr. Dreadful’s evil machine, perhaps they could outwit it.
“Mighty Man, I have an idea!”
Mighty Man flew in close.
“We keep coming at Dr. Dreadful head-on,” Zip reasoned. “What we need to do is catch him by surprise.”
“And just how do you propose we do that?”
“Simple. We attack from above.” He pointed to an empty bus parked on the side of the street. “I can lift that bus into the sky and drop it onto the robot. Dr. Dreadful will never see it coming.”
Mighty Man furrowed his brow. “You know, that’s not half bad.”
Zip lit up. “I knew you’d like it! I’ll be right back.”
A firm hand gripped Zip’s shoulder. “Not so fast, rookie. This is a job for a professional. I’ll take it from here.”
Zip felt his heart sink. “But Mighty Man—”
“No buts,” the hero replied. “You’re not ready, Power Boy. And until that day comes, it’s my job to look out for you.”
A wave of frustration rose inside Zip as he watched Mighty Man beeline toward the vacant bus. This was his idea. And now Mighty Man would get the glory.
The city bus plummeted on top of the robot with a crash. The mechanical monster tumbled to its knees.
But the fiend hadn’t been totaled yet. Hobbling, the robot stood to its feet.
“Curse you, Mighty Man!” Dr. Dreadful bellowed from inside the monstrosity. With that, the evil genius and his creation beat a retreat, disappearing before his nemesis could finish the job.
All around, a thunder of applause broke out from the city dwellers down on the streets. A TV news van peeled in as Mighty Man descended from above to greet his adoring public.
“Citizens of Central City,” Mighty Man spoke to the reporter, “though evil may seek to thwart us, rest assured, justice shall prevail as long as Mighty Man is in town.”
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Looking on, Zip felt himself shrink. Without his idea, they’d never have defeated Dr. Dreadful’s evil robot. So how was it fair that Mighty Man, just because he was the hero, got to take all the credit?
He headed back to the Wondermobile. Someday, he’d figure out a way to emerge from Mighty Man’s shadow.
* * *
Back at the Hidden Sanctum, Zip flipped on the TV. The news interview was already airing.
He rolled his eyes. That should have been him in front of the camera. Once again, Mighty Man had stolen the glory.
Speak of the devil, Zip thought to himself as Mighty Man emerged, sans super suit, from his quarters.
Around the Sanctum, Mighty Man was not much of one for clothing—super or otherwise. His official explanation was that after spending all day cavorting about in a skin-tight suit, the last thing he wanted was to restrict himself in the privacy of his own domain.
Zip, on the other hand, begged to differ. If you asked him, Mighty Man’s preference for ditching his duds had a lot less to do with comfort and a lot more to do with showing off.
Not that Zip minded the view. Mighty Man had a body that truly lived up to his name. Well over six feet tall, Mighty Man’s stature commanded attention. His ice blue eyes made for a stunning contrast with his tan, chiseled chest.
Zip wondered what it must have been like to have a body like that. Burly, brawny, and all man. He licked his lips as he eyed Mighty Man’s full, plump pecs. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face between them.
He imagined what he’d like to do to the hero. Mighty Man’s nipples were practically begging for attention. They looked sensitive—and Zip was dying to test that theory.
Where else was sensitive for the hero, Zip wondered. Certainly, a hunk built like Mighty Man was in touch with his sensual side. How could someone be such a specimen and not have an appreciation for carnal desire?
An urge to explore took hold over Zip. He became possessed with a need to know Mighty Man inside and out—and to likewise be known by him.
His eyes wandered down Mighty Man’s torso. Despite his conflicted feelings toward the hero, Zip couldn’t deny the allure of Mighty Man’s unbridled masculinity. He was the full package in every sense of the word. Zip licked his lips discreetly. On the hero’s abdomen, a thick trail of hair teased what was waiting below the band of his briefs.
Zip shook himself out of it. Just because Mighty Man was a Greek god, this was no time for Zip to go soft—or hard, as the case turned out to be.
“We need to talk,” he said as Mighty Man flopped onto the sofa beside him. Zip tried not to eye the bulge inside the hero’s jockey shorts. That was the other thing—Mighty Man wasn’t just a muscle-bound hero, he was also walking around with that between his legs.
Someone ought to have told Thor where to find his missing hammer.
“Listen,” Mighty Man replied, “if this is about the store-brand cornflakes, it’s only because they were out of the usual.”
Zip released a groan. “This isn’t about cornflakes, Mighty Man. This is about me.”
“You?”
“Yes!”
“What’s troubling you, my boy?”
“That! You still think of me as a boy. I’m ready to take the next step, Mighty Man.”
The hero furrowed his brow. “What’s this about, Zip?”
“That plan to take down Dr. Dreadful’s robot was mine—and you stole it!”
Heat rose in Mighty Man’s face. “This is exactly why you’re not ready to be a hero. This isn’t a competition, Zip. We’re a team. If all you care about is the glory, then you still have a lot to learn.”
Zip grumbled under his breath.
“Don’t worry,” Mighty Man continued, “your time will come. But being a hero’s not all fun and games, you know. It’s the most stressful job in the world. Every day, I carry the weight of this city on my shoulders.” He released a sigh. “Sometimes, I wish I could go back to being a sidekick. Let someone else be in charge for once.”
Zip couldn’t help but notice the hero stretch out his body just then. It reminded him of a cat in heat.
Becoming self-aware, Mighty Man sat himself upright. “Look, I know you want your wonder ring. I did, too, when I was your age. But it’s my responsibility to wait until you’re ready.”
“Well, when will that be?”
Mighty Man cracked a wry grin. “Once you prove it to me.”
* * *
If there was any upside to being angry, it was the killer workout it brought on. The Hidden Sanctum had been outfitted with a world-class private gym. After all, even a superhero had to keep up their strength.
Zip lifted the barbell over his chest. You’re not ready, Zip. You need to learn, Zip. You’re still just a boy, Zip.
Oh, yeah? Well, he’d show him.
He dropped the barbell back onto the rack. Sitting up, he stood in front of the mirror. At this rate, it would be years before he had a body like Mighty Man’s.
Not that there was anything wrong with his current body. His lean flesh glistened with sweat in his reflection.
He admired his physique. His body was smooth, every inch of it toned. He was a bit shorter than Mighty Man, clocking in at five-nine on a good day.
Flexing, he took stock of his muscles. For a young man, he wasn’t too shabby, if he did say so himself. Sure, there was room for improvement, but who didn’t have goals when it came to their body?
Mighty Man, that was who. His body was perfect. Thick, muscled, and covered in hair—he was Zip’s ideal if ever there was one.
Eyeing himself in the mirror, Zip slipped a hand inside his waistband. His manhood began to grow at the touch of his fingers.
He didn’t pull it out, though. That would have to wait until later. After all, he was here to exercise.
Visions of Mighty Man’s physique filled Zip’s head. Maybe the hero could even help him build up his body.
Of course, some things were pure genetics—namely, the impressive size of Mighty Man’s tool. Though Zip had never actually seen it up close, it was clear that, underneath the hero’s briefs, he was packing in a major way.
To be fair, Zip’s cock was nothing to sneeze at, either. Being the bottom that he was, though, the meat he’d been blessed with had largely been wasted on him.
He worked his rod slowly, savoring the feeling of his hand wrapping his shaft inside his shorts. When playing with others, it was generally his posterior end that got the attention. And while he certainly didn’t mind that, he also would have welcomed an opportunity to pitch, so to speak, every once in a while.
Largely, he knew his lot in life was due to his stature. His slight build made him perfect for tossing around in bed. The trouble was, Zip wanted more. Appearances aside, he was more than just a hole.
So long as he was a mere sidekick, though, Zip knew he’d never be taken seriously.
He returned to the weight bench. Breathing hard, he double-timed a set of bench presses. He’d show Mighty Man what he was capable of.
Just then, the gym door swung open. “Whoa, tiger,” Mighty Man said. “What got into you?”
Zip didn’t bother to pause. “You told me I needed to prove to you I’m ready for more.”
“I didn’t mean you needed to pack on more muscle.” He gave Zip a once-over as the young sidekick continued lifting the barbell. “Besides, I think you look just fine.” The words came out slow, savored.
Frustrated, Zip returned the barbell to the rack. “Then what do I need to do to prove myself to you?”
Mighty Man patted him on the shoulder. “Once you can answer that for yourself, my boy, then I’ll hear you loud and clear.”
Suddenly, almost as if on cue, an alarm began to blare.
Zip nearly jumped out of his skin. “What’s that?”
Mighty Man was already halfway to the door. “Hurry, we have a break-in!”
* * *
At the Hidden Sanctum’s entrance, Mighty Man and Zip found a familiar face—and this time, he’d brought company.
“Dr. Dreadful,” Mighty Man said, “so we meet again.”
A sly grin spread across the villain’s face. “Miss me, did you?”
“Like a case of gonorrhea.”
Dr. Dreadful was unfazed. “Well, I do fancy myself rather infectious.”
In the background, Zip looked on at the faceoff. His mind went blank with fear.
“I’ve had just about enough of you spoiling my fun, Mighty Man,” Dr. Dreadful said as he sauntered about the room. “And now, I’m here to take care of the problem permanently.” He snapped his fingers. “Boys.”
Dr. Dreadful’s henchmen advanced. Instinctively, Mighty Man sprang into action.
Zip watched in awe as the hero, still in nothing but his skivvies, fought against Dreadful’s cronies.
Locked in combat, Mighty Man faced off with the villains. Strained grunts escaped the hero’s lips as he fended off the assault.
The henchmen were relentless. With every attempt, Mighty Man deflected them, but still Dr. Dreadful’s cronies kept coming back for more.
It left Zip breathless. The power, the finesse. Mighty Man’s body was a machine—every motion controlled, every movement precise.
Even for a superhuman, Mighty Man’s physique was impressive. But those muscles weren’t just for show. Mighty Man’s tree trunk arms threw Dreadful’s lackeys around like they were nothing but rag dolls.
Looking on intently, Zip savored how the hero’s strapping frame flexed and twisted as he moved. It was like watching an ancient gladiator fight off a pair of lions.
Only this gladiator was built like Hercules. Zip licked his lips as Mighty Man’s mighty package bounced around inside his briefs. Why didn’t the hero just take a swing at Dreadful’s cronies with that? If you asked Zip, Mighty Man’s cock was a deadly weapon.
He shook himself out of it. If he wasn’t so upset at Mighty Man, he might have been turned on by the hero’s show of animalism.
Suddenly, Dr. Dreadful reached into his trench coat. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” he said, “but sadly, you leave me no choice.” Out from his coat, he produced a glowing crystalline rock.
Mighty Man shrunk back. “No! That’s not…? How did you…?”
Worry spiked inside Zip. Mighty Man was fearless. Nothing scared him. Nothing, well, except this alien-looking crystal. What could this be that it would frighten the hero so?
“Cocktonite!” Mighty Man gasped. “My one true weakness.”
An evil smile took form on Dreadful’s face. “That’s right, Mighty Man. You may be a superhero, but even you can’t resist the force of Cocktonite.”
Zip couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Before his very eyes, Central City’s greatest hero had been rendered helpless—completely dominated by Cocktonite.
Dreadful’s lackeys apprehended the powerless hero. “Boss, what about the kid?”
That snapped Zip out of his daze. Geez, now he was taking insults from evil henchmen, too?
“Leave the kid,” Dreadful instructed. He tossed back a laugh. “He isn’t worth the trouble.”
With that, Dreadful and his crew carried Mighty Man—who, at the moment, was anything but—out the door.
Nonplussed, Zip reeled in shock. Holy crap. What just happened? His mind began to race. Panicking, he tried to calculate his next move.
Whenever there’d been trouble before, Mighty Man had always been around to save the day. But who saved the hero when they were the one in danger?
He searched his brain for options. If only there was someone who could help.
And then it hit him. There was someone who could help. Him!
Hadn’t he been saying he was ready for more responsibility? Hadn’t he been saying he had what it took to be in charge?
Mighty Man’s hour of need was the perfect opportunity for Zip to prove he could be a hero.
He reached for his super suit. Time to show Dr. Dreadful just what this ‘kid’ was made of.
* * *
Soaring through the sky, Zip scanned the cityscape below for sign of Dr. Dreadful. But despite his powerful super-vision, he couldn’t make out heads or tails of the villain.
His heart pounded forcefully inside his chest. He hadn’t been aware of it at first, but the longer Zip searched for his imperiled hero, the harder it became to deny an uncomfortable realization.
Was he still upset at Mighty Man? Of course. But just because you were upset at someone, it didn’t mean you stopped caring about them. And he cared about Mighty Man deeply. Perhaps more deeply than he’d realized.
Zip found himself wishing he hadn’t been so testy with the hero. What if he never saw Mighty Man again? He didn’t want his final memories of his mentor to be scarred by a stupid fight.
As much as he hated to admit it, the truth was staring him in the face. He wasn’t just scared of losing Mighty Man, he was terrified of losing him—terrified as in he didn’t know what he’d do without his hero.
He tried to shake himself out of it. Come on, Zip, he told himself. You want to stop being seen as a child—what could possibly be more childish than crushing on the teacher?
Still, he couldn’t get Mighty Man’s physique out of his mind. That burly, powerful chest. Those bulging, muscular arms. That big, juicy…
OK, Zip, that’s enough, he told himself. Clearly, you’re not in your right mind now. No one thinks straight in a crisis.
Truth be told, though, Zip knew inside it had been quite some time since he’d been able to think straight when it came to Mighty Man.
Suddenly, a scream of terror shook him from his thoughts. He zeroed in on the source. Down below, a woman on the street pointed to the horizon.
The robot. It was back.
Zip burned with anger. Dr. Dreadful, that fiend! So this was why he’d kidnapped Mighty Man—to get him out of the way so he could finally wreak havoc unchallenged.
Well, not if Zip had anything to say about it.
A crisis gnawed at his chest. He had a decision to make. Either he could continue searching for Mighty Man, or he could save the city from certain destruction—but he couldn’t do both.
The choices tugged inside him. A hero’s duty was to defend the defenseless, but how could he abandon Mighty Man in his hour of need?
He gulped nervously. Deep down, he knew what Mighty Man would want him to do.
He altered course for the robot.
The mechanical monster was somehow even more terrifying now. Battle-scarred from earlier, the menace looked like a walking junkyard of scrap metal, loose wires, and busted gears. The collective impression was a nightmare in robot form.
Zip swallowed down his fear. They’d beat this monster once. Surely, they could beat it again. If their first aerial attack had done this much damage, there was no doubt in his mind that a second helping would finish the job.
He scanned the streets below for another empty bus or a truck.
Bingo.
Just then, though, a familiar face caught his eye. Dr. Dreadful wasn’t alone inside the robot’s cockpit. He had Mighty Man trapped in there with him!
It stopped Zip dead in his tracks. There was no way he could drop two tons of freefalling weight on top of the robot now. It could prove to be fatal.
Even for Mighty Man.
Zip paused to reassess. Using his super-vision, he peered into the robot’s cockpit.
Bound and gagged—and still in nothing but his tight, skimpy briefs—Mighty Man writhed against his restraints.
The sight sent a strange sensation tingling below Zip’s belt. Arms tied above his head, Mighty Man’s bulging pecs and hairy pits were on full display. Zip swallowed hard. Never before had he seen the hero dominated in such a way.
Lurid images began to fill his head as he watched Mighty Man struggle against his confines. No matter how hard the hero flexed, his binds held strong. He was a prisoner to Dr. Dreadful’s will.
Zip wondered what the evil doctor planned to do with the hero. He adjusted the bulge in his pants. If only it were himself who had Mighty Man bound like that—because he certainly had some ideas for what he would have liked to do if he had Mighty Man at his mercy.
He shook the thought away. Focus, Zip, he told himself. This is no time for fantasies.
Hovering above Central City, he tried to concoct his plan of attack. Any moment now, Dr. Dreadful’s devious robot would reach downtown. He had to stop that from happening.
But how? An aerial attack was out of the question, and he’d already learned that facing the robot head-on was a losing battle.
Inside the cockpit, Dreadful spotted Zip levitating above the skyline. “Well, isn’t that precious. Looks like daddy’s special boy has come to the rescue.” He laughed cruelly. “Good luck, kid.”
Zip spied Dreadful mocking him, and suddenly, inspiration struck. If he couldn’t attack from above, perhaps he could attack from below.
Dr. Dreadful controlled the robot’s every move from inside. That meant anything the robot felt, Dr. Dreadful also felt. It was as simple as looking for the weak spot.
In other words, right in the sprockets.
He flew down under the robot’s radar.
Inside the automaton, Dreadful turned to Mighty Man. “Better not have gotten your hopes up. It appears your boy wonder has gone running with his tail between his legs.”
His words were well timed, for just then, Dr. Dreadful experienced a crushing pain between his own legs as a vacant garbage truck hurdled into the robot’s nether regions.
He doubled over in pain, bringing the entire towering robot to its knees. The menace collapsed to the street.
All around, cheers burst out from the onlookers.
But Zip didn’t even notice the fanfare. All that mattered to him was ensuring his hero was safe.
“Mighty Man!” he agonized as he dug through the rubble. “Please be OK.”
His heart stopped as he uncovered Mighty Man’s face from beneath the debris. He didn’t appear to be breathing.
Without hesitation, Zip pressed his lips against the hero’s. He began to administer mouth-to-mouth.
All around, a hush fell over the onlookers. Not a word was spoken as, with bated breath, the citizens of Central City awaited the fate of their hero.
Zip was almost about to abandon hope when, as if by a miracle, Mighty Man issued a gasp. Cheers erupted from the crowd as their hero stood to his feet.
Moments later, the police arrived to haul off Dr. Dreadful for good.
“Curse you, Mighty Man!” the villain cried as he was carted away.
Zip felt his spirits dim. Even now, he still stood in the shadow of his illustrious mentor.
Another news van rolled in as Mighty Man dusted himself off. Zip heaved a sigh as, once again, a microphone was shoved in the conquering hero’s face. Even when Zip had single-handedly saved the day, Power Boy was still forgotten.
“Citizens of Central City,” Mighty Man boomed to the reporter, “every day, I am honored to be your protector, your defender, your guardian.”
Here we go again, Zip thought to himself. He turned away from the crowd.
“But today,” Mighty Man continued, “one thing I’m not is your hero.”
Zip stopped in his tracks.
“Today,” Mighty Man went on, “that distinction belongs to my protégé.” He gestured to Zip. “Allow me to introduce to you a special individual who has become invaluable to me, and by extension, to us all. You may know him as Power Boy, but henceforth and forevermore, he shall from this day forward be known by the name he deserves. Central City, please join me in a round of applause for your new hero…Power Man.”
Thunderous clapping broke out from the crowd. Zip felt himself being lifted in the air by a group of fans. All around, the citizens of Central City chanted his name.
Finally, the recognition he craved was his. Finally, he would be seen as a hero in his own right. Finally, he wasn’t just some sidekick.
So how come he still felt empty? He’d just gotten everything he’d ever wanted, but somehow, it felt different than he’d imagined—as if, now that he finally had the status he’d sought, it somehow didn’t matter anymore.
Despite his newfound accolades, there was something—or someone, rather—Zip wanted even more.
He licked his lips as he eyed Mighty Man in the background. That was the prize he truly desired.
His mind played back images of the hero bound and on display. He felt his manhood harden again.
Powerless, vulnerable, and served up for enjoyment. Never before had he seen Mighty Man in such a state.
Where had this fascination come from? The closest Zip had ever come before to anything approaching deviant was wearing naughty underwear. Now suddenly he wanted to dive headfirst into bondage? It was as if something had been awoken in him.
Or maybe just unleashed.
What he wouldn’t have given to tie Mighty Man up himself. The seasoned, mature hero captive and bound, wholly at the mercy of his young, inexperienced apprentice. The very idea of it was practically enough to make Zip cum.
He let out a sigh. Unfortunately, an idea it would have to remain. BDSM with the boss probably counted as crossing professional boundaries.
But that sure wouldn’t stop Zip from dreaming about it.
He chortled to himself. Who would have guessed the mild-mannered sidekick secretly had a wild side?
* * *
They arrived back at the Sanctum just in time to catch the news segment.
“Good work today,” Mighty Man said as he patted Zip on the back.
The pair took a seat on the couch to watch the news story.
“Today certainly was a new experience, wasn’t it?” Mighty Man said.
Zip arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it isn’t exactly often that someone gets Mighty Man bound and gagged.”
Zip felt his cheeks turn red as his mind played back the image of the hero held captive.
Mighty Man spun his body in toward Zip. As per his custom, he’d ditched his super suit the moment they’d walked in the door. It took all Zip’s willpower not to stare at the big bear chest on display before him.
“Actually, it wasn’t all bad,” Mighty Man continued. “If I’m being honest, it was kind of nice knowing someone else was in charge.” He inched, almost imperceptibly, closer to Zip.
The sidekick felt his heart rate spike. What was Mighty Man suggesting?
“I told you, didn’t I, how much pressure it is being a hero all the time? Truth be told, I kind of liked having someone else in control…having you in control.” He paused the TV. The picture on the screen turned Zip bright red. “And judging by this footage, it looks like you didn’t mind it so much yourself.”
Onscreen, the news camera had captured Zip fighting off Dr. Dreadful’s robot, a raging hard-on undeniable under his spandex. He recalled the arousal he’d felt at the sight of Mighty Man restrained. Shit, had it been that obvious?
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Zip.” Mighty Man inched closer again. “Did you know you were this way?”
Zip swallowed a gulp. “What way?”
Mighty Man pondered his words. “Oh, I don’t know. Assertive, commanding…dominant.” He placed a hand on Zip’s knee.
A thrill rushed through Zip’s body at the hero’s touch. “I…I…I don’t know.”
“I think I have an idea,” Mighty Man said. A wry smile spread across his face. “You showed me today you know how to take charge. What do you say we put this little discovery to use?” He shifted his hand to Zip’s crotch. “Tell me, boy. Think you can put this daddy in his place?”
A beat of silence passed before Zip responded. “Get up to the bedroom. Now.”
* * *
Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap. Zip’s mind raced as they ascended the stairs to Mighty Man’s quarters. This had to be a dream. Not a night went by when he didn’t fantasize about Mighty Man. And now, the hero was actually taking him to bed.
Or rather, Zip was taking Mighty Man to bed, as the case was.
Excitement coursed through his veins. Ever since he’d laid eyes on Mighty Man bound in Dr. Dreadful’s restraints, he hadn’t been able to get the image out of his head. It still didn’t make sense to him why he found the notion so arousing. All he knew was, now that he’d opened this door, there’d be no going back.
Perhaps it was the novelty of it. Zip could be pegged as a bottom a mile away, maybe even two. The idea of flipping the status quo enthralled him.
And apparently, Mighty Man felt the same. Zip recalled what the hero had said about the pressures of constantly being depended on by Central City. It was only logical, he supposed, that anyone in such a position would need a break from it all every now and again.
Mighty Man, however, wasn’t just anyone.
Zip swallowed down hard. Mighty Man was a modern-day Samson. How was Zip—who was still branded a twink every time he went out—supposed to tame such a beast?
He worked to build up his courage. You’ve got this, Zip, he told himself. Remember, you’re Power Man now. It’s time you act like it.
Despite his efforts to rally, though, doubt began to creep in. Sure, the idea of dominating Mighty Man was hot, but now that it was about to become reality, Zip couldn’t stop himself from wondering—was he really up to the challenge?
Ready or not, it was time to find out.
“I have something for you,” Mighty Man said as they entered the bedroom. “I think you’ll like it.” Out from the closet, he produced a jet-black leather harness. “Take it.”
Zip handled the gear with astonishment.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never worn one of these before.”
It was clear from Zip’s silence that he hadn’t.
A devilish smile lit up Mighty Man’s face. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He buckled a leather collar around his own neck. “What do you think?”
“It’s…it’s…”
“You like it?”
“Wow.” Zip adjusted his growing bulge inside his pants.
Mighty Man chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He flopped down on the bed. “Well, what are you waiting for? Suit up.”
Blitz nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
“Uh-uh-uh,” Mighty Man said, shaking a finger. “The only ‘sir’ in here is you.”
A surge filled Zip’s chest. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He slipped on the harness as fast as he could.
“How do I look?” Zip asked.
Mighty Man grabbed at his hardening crotch. “Does this tell you anything?” He sat up from the bed. “Needs some adjustment, though. You’re a little smaller than the last guy who wore it.” He proceeded to tighten the straps. The closeness of the leather against his skin sent tingles through Zip’s body.
Mighty Man nodded approvingly. “Much better. Now, get over here.”
The next thing Zip knew, his pants had been yanked down around his ankles, exposing his thick, semi-hard cock.
Mighty Man licked his lips. “Looks tasty.” Flipping himself onto his back, the hero laid on the bed, his head hanging over the edge directly under Zip standing above.
And then, he began to suck.
A moan of ecstasy escaped Zip’s mouth. Apparently, Mighty Man’s super-strength applied to his lips, too.
Instantly, Zip became rock-hard. How could he not while being serviced by a stud like Mighty Man?
The hero was a hungry slut if ever there was one. Grabbing Zip’s torso, he pulled him toward his welcoming mouth.
“So, that’s what you like, eh? You wanna choke on it, do you?”
Underneath him, Mighty Man nodded desperately.
“All right, then. My pleasure.” Gripping his hands around the hero’s neck, Zip thrusted his cock down Mighty Man’s throat. The hero gagged and choked, but the moment Zip tried to let up, he instantly begged for more.
“Now, this is what I call a superpower,” Zip said as he face-fucked the hero.
Finally, even a superhero had to come up for air. “All right, boy. Ready to show daddy what you can do?”
Zip rubbed his hands together. “I thought you’d never ask.” He was about to flip Mighty Man over onto his stomach, when the hero cut him short.
“There’s something else I have that I think you’ll like.” Reaching into the nightstand, Mighty Man pushed a button. The next thing Zip knew, an enticing contraption was descending from an opened panel in the ceiling.
“How would you like to pin me down in this?”
Before Zip’s eyes was a leather sling, complete with wrist and ankle restraints.
“Man, I’m gonna own that hole.”
Ripping off Mighty Man’s briefs, Zip fastened the hero into the sling. He gave the restraints a tug. They held fast. Mighty Man wasn’t going anywhere. This was even hotter than the first time Zip had seen him tied up.
“Give me that dick, Power Boy.”
“Uh-uh-uh.” Zip shook his head. “It’s Power Man now. And don’t you forget it.” With one powerful thrust, he jammed his cock into Mighty Man’s hole.
It was a good thing the Hidden Sanctum was soundproof, because otherwise Mighty Man’s moan would have awoken half of Central City.
Zip relished the warmth of being inside the hero. Mighty Man had a hungry hole indeed. Who would have thought such a man’s man was secretly an insatiable bottom?
“That’s right, Zip. I know you can do this. I know you’ve got what it takes.”
Grunting, Zip plowed harder. The sling was perfect for ramming hole. His hips slammed against Mighty Man’s ass with the force of a locomotive.
He gripped the hero’s throbbing cock, marveling at the size of it in his hand. He couldn’t even wrap his fingers around it. Below, Mighty Man’s gargantuan balls bounced up and down in his hairy sack as Zip railed his juicy ass.
“Was this what you wanted?” Zip asked. “Getting wrecked by your innocent sidekick? Not so innocent, am I?” He proceeded to fuck harder.
“It’s all I ever wanted,” Mighty Man cried. Never before had Zip seen someone in such bliss.
Just then, he felt Mighty Man’s body tense. He knew what this meant. Double-timing it, he pounded Mighty Man like a top twice his own size. He even surprised himself. Apparently, Mighty Man brought something out in him.
And then, everything came out. And came, and came, and came. Mighty Man erupted a thick, creamy load across his chest while Zip spilled his seed inside the hero’s satisfied hole.
Sweaty, Mighty Man wiped his brow. “Looks like someone just earned their wonder ring.”
Charming the Prince, Part 1
A Spicy M/M Royal Fantasy Romance
The din of sword fighting rang out through the halls of Cockshire Castle. And judging by the shouting, the fight was only heating up.
“En garde,” the first dueler declared as he thrust his sword at his opponent.
“Touché,” called the second as he darted to the side.
The swordsmen lunged and parried their way out onto a balcony.
“Ha,” said the first, “I’ve got your cornered.”
His opponent looked over his shoulder at the castle moat below. “Have you no mercy?”
The first dueler threw back his head and laughed. “Never!” Drawing back his sword, he jabbed it forward and plunged it…
Straight into the balcony railing.
The cornered swordsman removed his mesh facemask. “Good show, my boy.”
The first dueler removed his mask, as well. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re shaping up to be a first-rate fencer.”
“Everything I know, I learned from you.”
His father smiled proudly. “At least when it comes to what you can do with your sword.” Realizing his words, a bright red hue came over his face.
The son shook his head, amused. “When it comes to lots of stuff, Dad.”
His father nodded approvingly. “Good. Because soon, David, my duties become yours. Do you think you’re ready for the responsibilities of being king?”
“Of course, Dad,” David replied. “I’ve only been watching you do it my entire life.”
“Being king is easier said than done, David,” the King countered. But then, a wry smile betrayed him. “However, your first responsibility shouldn’t be too burdensome. Tomorrow is the day you choose your queen.”
A beat of silence passed as David considered his response. “I don’t know, Dad. Couldn’t I just, you know, take it slow?”
A frown twisted the old King’s face. “Nonsense, David. For generations, every prince of Cockshire has chosen his bride on his twenty-first birthday. It’s tradition.”
David rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, but what if I don’t meet anyone I love?”
The King wrapped his arm around David. “I know it’s a lot to take in, son. But don’t worry. Every eligible maiden in the land will be visiting tomorrow. Think of it as your own personal parade of princesses. Surely, one of them will be to your liking.”
David shrugged meekly. “I suppose you’re right.”
The King gave his son a firm pat on the back. “Of course, I am.” Gleeful, he took his leave. “I can see it now. Love is in the air!”
A weary sigh escaped David’s lips. “Then perhaps it’s time someone got their eyes checked.”
* * *
The night proved to be restless. For twenty-one years, becoming king of Cockshire had been David’s birthright. So why was he suddenly so nervous?
It wasn’t the responsibility of ruling. His father had been nothing if not a benevolent king, and David looked forward to following in his footsteps.
He shut his eyes and tried to relax. Perhaps one of the fables his mother had read him as a boy would soothe his anxious mind.
Climbing out of bed, he pulled down a leather-bound book from a shelf. Tales of Gallantry. This had been one of his favorites.
He opened the book gently to a gold-embossed illumination on the inside cover. A knight in shining armor. The Queen had hoped the tales would inspire honor and chivalry in her son. And while that they’d certainly done, they also, unbeknownst to her, had inspired something else.
Enchantment.
David brushed his fingers over the handsome illustration of the knight. Although he hadn’t always understood his fascination with the brave and daring heroes of his mother’s tales, as he matured, David gradually became aware of what his fascination meant.
He didn’t dare share his secret, though. A gay prince—what would people say? After all, it was royal duty to continue the bloodline. How was that supposed to happen if he didn’t fulfill his role and marry a princess?
He’d simply have to grin and bear it. That was the only choice.
A weary sigh escaped him. Sure, being a prince had its perks, but it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. David longed for the freedom to feel what he wanted, be who he wanted…
Love who he wanted.
But it could never be. No one could ever know the secret he hid deep down. It would be a royal scandal to end all scandals.
Still, he had one last night before he signed his life away. And he intended to make the most of it.
He reached inside his pajama pants. Tomorrow, his manhood would have a job, it would have a duty. It would be subject to the desires of his newly chosen queen.
Tonight, however, his cock was still his. All his.
He pulled his member out of his shorts. It was still soft, but even so, it barely fit in his hand.
His mind conjured images of the manly heroes from the stories he now knew by heart. Strong, brave, noble, vibrant. Before he knew it, David’s cock had swelled.
He’d never penetrated anyone before—male or female. Perhaps he would learn to like the sensation of a woman. After all, men had enjoyed the pleasures of the fairer sex for centuries—surely, he too could rise to the occasion, so to speak.
He felt himself go soft. Instantly, guilt overcame him. It wasn’t as if he could help it, though. Some of his closest confidants were female. But that didn’t mean he wanted to know them like that. It just wasn’t him.
Frustrated, he gave up his efforts to relieve himself. Hopefully, things would be better in the morning.
Somehow, though, he doubted it.
* * *
Before David knew it, the day he’d been dreading had finally arrived.
“Now, chin up, David,” said the Queen. “Every princess from across the land will be here soon. We want to make a good impression now, don’t we?”
“Yes, Mom.” David forced a smile as his mother straightened his royal jacket.
“That’s more like it.” She took a step back to admire her offspring. A sheen came over her eyes. “Oh, David. I can’t believe it. It feels like just yesterday you were bringing home salamanders in your pockets. Now my boy is all grown up.” Her voice faded away as she held back her tears.
“There, there, my dear,” said the King as he wrapped his arm around her. “This is a happy day, isn’t it, David? You’re about to make one young lady a very lucky princess.”
Unfortunately for David, what he felt was anything but lucky.
Before he had a chance to respond, though, his opportunity was cut short by the royal crier entering the room.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” the tiny man boomed. “It is with great pleasure that we celebrate on this day a momentous occasion to be known throughout the land, for it is today that His Royal Highness Prince David of Cockshire marks the twenty-first year since the heavens above bestowed upon us his blessed birth.”
Fervent applause issued forth from the King and Queen.
“To mark this historic day,” the crier continued, “we shall begin by honoring an age-old tradition, one passed down from father to son for generations. The time has come for our esteemed and noble prince to select his forever bride.” He spun around to the door behind him. “All right, boys, bring on the babes!”
A knot twisted inside David’s stomach. Here we go, he thought.
“Now, David, don’t be nervous,” said the Queen. “Just be yourself. Go on and take your seat at the throne. And remember, this is supposed to be fun.”
Unfortunately, the ordeal turned out to be anything but. Princess after princess, each accompanied by an attentive lady-in-waiting, were presented to David. None of them, however, managed to spark his interest.
“I just don’t see what’s the matter,” said the Queen. “You’ve met scores of eligible maidens. Any one of them would make a fine bride.”
“Maybe this just doesn’t work for everyone,” David responded meekly.
“Nonsense,” said the King. “It’s tradition.”
“Well, maybe this is one tradition that’s ready to die out.” David stood up to leave.
“Now, don’t be hasty,” pled the Queen. “We still have one princess left. Perhaps she’ll be the one.” She pointed her face heavenward. “Please let her be the one.”
David sat back down with a scoff. Somehow, he doubted his mother’s hopes would be fulfilled, but he’d already sat through dozens of dames. What was one more? “All right, show her in.”
“Oh, goody,” cheered the Queen, visibly elated. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
David, however, failed to share her enthusiasm.
As the princess entered, though, he quickly changed his mind. “Who is that?”
But the comment wasn’t directed at the princess. Instead of bringing her lady-in-waiting, this princess was accompanied by…a man.
“Presenting,” said the crier, “Princess Cassandra of the Kingdom of Ballenchain.”
David hopped down from the throne immediately. “Pleased to meet you, Princess Cassandra.” He planted a kiss on her hand.
She giggled demurely. “Oh, Prince David. I bet you say that to all the girls.”
David held back a laugh. If only she knew. “I see you’ve brought a guest.”
Cassandra turned to her chaperone. “Yes, I hope you don’t mind. My lady-in-waiting isn’t well, so my dear brother offered to accompany me in her stead.”
David feigned sympathy. “What a pity. But of course, you’re more than welcome at Cockshire, Prince…”
“James,” the brother finished.
“James!” David repeated. He shook his hand firmly. “Well, on behalf of our fair kingdom, I’d like to bid you both a grand welcome.”
Looking on, the Queen leaned in toward the King’s ear. “I knew it! Just look at how well they’re getting along. I think we may have just found our new daughter-in-law!” She breezed up to the trio. “Princess Cassandra, I simply cannot let you leave without experiencing some of our famous Cockshire hospitality. Perhaps you’d like to stay for dinner?”
An unsure look crossed the princess’s face. “Oh, I don’t know. Is it all right if my brother joins?”
Without missing a beat, David chimed in before his mother could make a peep. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
* * *
That evening at dinner, the royal chef truly outdid himself. David licked his lips as he eyed the smorgasbord laid out before them.
Of course, the most delicious snack of all was seated across from him.
“So, tell me, James,” David said as he poured a goblet of mead for his guest, “I trust you had a pleasant journey here to fair Cockshire?”
James helped himself to a turkey leg. “Most definitely. Traveling can indeed prove tiresome for our fair Cassandra, but all in all, I’d call it a smooth excursion, wouldn’t you agree, sister?”
“Indubitably,” Cassandra agreed. “I must say, I adore the countryside. Although, perhaps not as much as I’m coming to enjoy this fair kingdom.” She dabbed her napkin at the corner of her mouth.
A sly grin warmed the King’s face at the head of the table. “I’m glad to hear Cockshire is to your liking, my dear. You do seem to fit in quite well here, if I do say so myself.”
Beneath the table, David kicked his father’s shin.
“So, Cassandra,” the Queen prodded, “tell us about your interests.”
Cassandra paused between bites of fig. “Oh, I have a great many interests. Sketching as of late has become a favorite pastime.”
At this, the Queen’s face lit up. “What a coincidence! David is a marvelous sketcher! You should see the interpretation he did of Michaelangelo’s David. Why, if I didn’t know better…”
“Mom!”
The Queen shrugged innocently. “Is it so wrong, David, for a mother to be proud of her son?”
“I, for one, think it’s refreshing,” James inserted. “If you ask me, there ought to be more young men pursuing the arts.”
David noticed his guest had made a point of meeting eyes with him. Instantly, he felt his heart rate spike. “Do you consider yourself a patron of the arts?”
“You could say that,” James replied. He took another bite of his turkey leg. “I, however, prefer to be a patron of the artist.” He tossed an inscrutable smile at David.
Flustered, the prince lowered his eyes. Could it be? Was this dreamboat of a man…flirting with him?
An awkward silence passed.
“So, Cassandra,” the King recovered, “tell us about the Kingdom of Ballenchain. It must be a far-off land, is it not?”
“Oh, very,” Cassandra replied.
The Queen clicked her tongue. “You must miss your family awfully.”
Cassandra slumped her shoulders. “I do,” she admitted, “but having my dear brother here at my side helps.”
“He does seem to make a lovely companion,” David concurred.
Now it was James’ turn to avert his eyes.
David wasn’t about to back down that easily, though. “Why, James, your goblet’s nearly empty. More mead?”
James shook his head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly—”
“Nonsense,” David protested as he topped off both their glasses. “I never let a guest go thirsty.”
Beside him, David’s mother cleared her throat.
“More mead, Mother?”
“I’m all right, David. But perhaps the princess would care for a replenishment.” She tossed a glance at Cassandra’s empty goblet.
Embarrassed, David smacked his forehead. “I apologize, princess. How could I be so ignorant?” He shoved the bottle her way. “Here.”
A venomous glare bore into him from the Queen. “David!”
The rebuke nearly made him spill his own goblet. “What?”
It was then that Cassandra rose from her seat. “It’s OK, Your Majesty. It’s been a long day of traveling. I’m afraid I’m due to retire—that is, if Your Highness doesn’t object?”
The King rose across from her. “Of course not, my dear. And please excuse the prince’s behavior tonight.” He glanced meaningfully at David. “I assure you, it won’t happen again.”
Cassandra nodded graciously. “It’s been a lovely evening, everyone. Thank you for your hospitality.”
With that, James pushed his goblet away. “I’m afraid I should call it a night, as well.” He stood up to join his sister. “Your Majesties, you’ve been lovely hosts.”
Dutifully, a chambermaid arrived to escort the pair to their respective accommodations.
David could practically feel the rage radiating off his mother. “Well, David, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
* * *
In reality, David was anything but happy with himself. Who was he kidding? A hunk like James…interested in him? It could never happen in a million years.
He felt like crawling under a rock. He’d made a fool of himself at dinner. Not only that, but he also may have ruined his chances with his bride-to-be.
He had to get his head on straight. A smile spread across his face as he realized the pun he’d just made. But this was no laughing matter. His future as the new king of Cockshire was at stake. It was time to put away the boyish fantasies.
But try though he may, David couldn’t get James out of his head. He pictured the two of them ruling side by side. Two kings united as one.
And he didn’t just mean that figuratively. His mind played back the images of James’ perfect body. David felt himself harden. The things he wished to do to that man.
He shook himself out of it. Stop it, David, he told himself. It’s just wishful thinking. James probably isn’t even gay. Was he really willing to risk his royal future for some silly little pipe dream?
He knew how he wanted to answer, but more importantly, he also knew how he needed to answer.
He blew out a sigh. “Man, this sucks.”
A sympathetic neigh replied next to him.
David turned to the horse at his side. Ever since he’d been little, he’d found the royal stable a calming place to seek solace. Somehow, being here with the horses brought him comfort. Here, he didn’t have to worry about saying the right things, doing the right things. Here, he could simply be himself.
Just then, the sound of footsteps roused him. “Who’s there?”
He instantly recognized the voice that responded. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Dad?”
The King took a seat on the ground next to David. “That was quite a show you put on at dinner.”
David let out a groan. “Don’t remind me.”
A beat of silence followed. “That brother of Cassandra’s. Interesting fellow, isn’t he?”
David felt his heart thump loudly. Just what was his father implying? “Is he? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Hadn’t noticed?” the King scoffed. “Son, it was like, to you, he was the only other person in the room.”
A growing unease began to rise inside David. His father couldn’t possibly suspect, could he?
“I think I know what’s going on,” the King continued.
Panic gripped David then. Oh, shit. He became filled with an urge to be anywhere—literally anywhere—but here right now.
“It’s not what you think it is,” he replied desperately.
“You don’t have to be ashamed, David. I felt the same way when I was your age.”
A wave of calmness washed over David. “You did?”
“Let me tell you a story,” the King said. “Before I met your mother, I was just like you. I could foxhunt better than a bloodhound, joust with the bravest of knights. In short, your father was quite the man’s man, if I do say so myself.”
David nodded tentatively. Where exactly was this going?
The King seemed to detect David’s confusion. “What I mean to say is, running with the boys was all I’d ever known. Heck, women were the last thing on my mind when I was your age. Did you know when I first met your mother, I was terrified?”
David wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. On the plus side, his secret was safe, but on the flipside, it turned out the King simply thought he was afraid of growing up.
“It’s only natural,” the King continued, “for you to gravitate toward James. You two certainly do have quite a bit in common. But you must remember, son, he’ll never be the same as a woman.”
Ain’t that the truth, David wanted to say.
The King stood up to leave. “I’m glad we had this talk. I know you think I’m just some old stick in the mud, but trust me, son, your father knows you better than you think he does.”
David remained silent. In that case, do I have news for you, he thought to himself.
“Give Cassandra a chance,” the King said. “Before long, you’ll forget all about James.” With that, he took his leave.
Left alone, David turned to pet his horse. “Yeah, I don’t buy it either, boy.”
* * *
David was glad when the next day arrived. Yesterday hadn’t exactly been his finest hour. He was more than ready to put the past behind him.
He resolved himself to start fresh. Today would be a new beginning.
During the night, he’d reflected on his conversation with his father. And while it hadn’t quite been the heart-to-heart David had hoped for, it had proven effective when it came to considering his priorities.
Becoming king was serious business—perhaps the most serious business that David had ever known. He didn’t have time for frivolities like love. He had a job to do. And the entire kingdom of Cockshire was counting on him.
His first order of business: making amends with Princess Cassandra. After the way he’d ignored her last night, he knew he was on thin ice with her. Heck, he was lucky she wasn’t already halfway home to Ballenchain by now. Today would be devoted to winning her back.
All his attention would be directed toward her. David was determined to make Cassandra feel like she was the only woman on Earth.
It wouldn’t be easy with that brother of hers around, though. Just thinking about James made David’s heartbeat race.
He couldn’t give in, though. Besides, he knew deep down James could never feel the same way. It was all just a fantasy—and David had outgrown those a long time ago.
“You’re certainly looking refreshed this morning,” his mother greeted him as he met her on the lawn.
“I feel refreshed,” David responded. “You could even say I’m a whole new man.”
The King patted him heartily on the back. “I’m glad to hear our little chat paid off. I knew we’d come to see eye-to-eye.”
David fought the urge to groan.
The moment quickly passed, though, as the Queen let out a squeal. “There she is!” She greeted Princess Cassandra, followed by Prince James, as they arrived on the green. “My dear, I don’t know how you do it. You look even more ravishing than you did last night.” She turned meaningfully to David. “Don’t you agree, David?”
“Most certainly, Mother,” David readily supplied. He planted a kiss on the princess’s hand. “If Venus herself should descend down upon us, surely her beauty wouldn’t even hold a candle to thine own.”
Cassandra tittered gleefully. “Why, Prince David. I didn’t know you were such a poet.”
“I am a man of mystery,” David replied.
The comment earned him a raised eyebrow from James, which he did his best to ignore.
“Well, I’d say that’s enough with the formalities,” decided the King. “I hope we’re all ready for a little friendly competition.” He motioned to a rack of cricket supplies set up on the lawn.
The princess clapped happily. “What fun! I just adore cricket.” She hooked elbows with David. “You can be on my team, David.”
He did his best to look enthused.
In short order, the game began—David and Cassandra against James and the King, Her Royal Highness presiding as referee.
Throughout the first play, David made good on his promise to be Cassandra’s doting admirer. It felt right, he told himself, following the natural order. This was how things were supposed to be.
For the first time since the princess had arrived, he felt his chest lighten. What had he been so worried about? This wasn’t so bad. In fact, he could probably even learn to like this.
“Wow, sis,” James interjected, “seems like you sure scored the right teammate.” Although he’d directed the comment at Cassandra, his eyes were locked on David.
The gaffe did not go unnoticed by the princess. “Yes, I’m quite glad to have him playing for my team.”
David resisted the urge to smile back at James. This is just in your head, David, he told himself. Just because James gave you a compliment, it doesn’t mean he’s flirting with you. “So, are we going to play ball, or just stand around talking?”
The King gave a good-natured laugh. “I do say we’ve been given ourselves a challenge, Prince James. Do you think we’re ready to accept?”
James looked David square in the eyes. “Oh, I’m always willing to take it.”
A wave of excitement rose in David’s groin. He did his best to ignore it. “In that case, game on.”
From there, the play intensified. David became a machine, laser-focused on victory. Every pitch was on target, every run was faster than the last.
“David,” the Queen said, “I’ve never seen you like this. I must say, I don’t think poor James stands a chance.”
Good, David thought to himself. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about not letting James win. What truly concerned David was not letting James have him.
Before long, the game reached its end. The players convened in the middle of the field.
“Good game, everyone,” the King declared. “I don’t know what came over you, David, but you certainly were in top form today.”
“You can say that again,” James agreed. He gave David a once-over. “Makes me wonder what other moves you’ve got.”
Again, the comment did not go unnoticed by Cassandra. She bit her lip as if in thought. “You know, boys, all this activity is making me hungry.”
The King nodded agreement. “Here, here. It appears a bite of lunch is in order.”
“I’ll have the chef whip something up now,” the Queen added.
“Actually,” Cassandra replied, “I have another idea, if Your Majesties aren’t opposed. Wouldn’t you say it’s a lovely day for a picnic?”
The King and Queen lit up. “A splendid idea, my dear! Why, it’s been weeks since we’ve left the castle grounds.”
A beat of silence passed as Cassandra considered her words. “Actually, Your Highness, I was thinking just the boys and I.”
The suggestion clearly left the King disappointed, but the Queen took it upon herself to respond on his behalf. “Of course, my dear. What do you need us tagging along for? You could use some time to get to know each other better.” She elbowed the King in the ribs. “Right, darling?”
The King nodded reluctantly. “As you wish, love.”
Elated, Cassandra spun around to David and James. “I hope you boys are excited. I have a feeling this will be positively gay.”
David felt his stomach twist in a knot. Did she have to put it that way?
* * *
Before long at all, the trio had set off into Cockshire Wood, picnic supplies in tow. Ironically, despite being the visitor, it was Cassandra who’d taken the lead.
David eyed her warily. Something about this didn’t sit right with him. “Cassandra, don’t you think we’ve gone far enough? This looks like as good a picnic spot as any.”
The princess spun around, eyeing the castle on the horizon. “Yes, I suppose this ought to be a safe distance.”
The comment drew an eyebrow raise from David. A safe distance from what?
There was no time to dwell on the question, though. The next thing David knew, they were spreading out their picnic blanket.
“So, princess,” he attempted to break the silence, “I trust you’ve been comfortable at our little castle?”
“Oh, yes,” Cassandra answered. “Perhaps more comfortable than you even.”
He cocked his head at her, unsure what to make of her response. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re getting settled.”
Cassandra pulled a loaf of bread out from their picnic basket. “Indeed. It’s easy to see how castle life could make one settle…settle in, I mean.”
David accepted a piece of bread coolly. “Of course.” Was it just him, or was something here feeling off?
“You know what this picnic is missing?” Cassandra said as she dove back into the picnic basket. “This.” She produced a bottle of mead.
James feigned scandal. “Cassandra, at this hour?”
“Why not?” Cassandra replied, already uncorking the bottle. “I say propriety be damned.” She poured them each a glass. “Besides, there’s no one around for miles.” She raised her glass before them. “A toast. To living life on our own terms.”
“I’ll drink to that,” James agreed. He tossed a glance at David. “What say you, fair prince?”
David swallowed a gulp. “I say they sure teach you some novel ideas back in Ballenchain.”
Gradually, lunch faded away into mead-fueled revelry. David decided his fears about this excursion had been unfounded. He’d been so on edge with everything going on lately, an afternoon of leisure was just what he needed.
The princess had surprised him. When he’d first met Cassandra, David had been sure she was just another uptight royal. If today was any indication, though, Princess Cassandra was anything but. She was a true breath of fresh air. He could almost see himself beginning to like her.
Meanwhile, his desire for James had seemed to wane. More and more, David was beginning to see the alluring man as simply another dear friend. It was a good thing, too. If this all worked out with Cassandra, he’d surely be seeing more of her brother. He’d have to learn how to be around him without his thoughts—and his heart—running wild.
Just then, Cassandra got up to stretch. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I suddenly have an incurable urge to go wildflower picking.”
David began to stand, as well. “I’ll join you.”
“Nonsense,” Cassandra replied. “You boys are having a lovely time here. I wouldn’t dream of spoiling it.”
David felt his pulse quicken. The idea of being alone with James was more than he could handle. “But Cassandra, there’s wild animals out there.”
“I can take care of myself,” Cassandra insisted. “Bears, wolves, otters—they never seem to take much interest in me, anyway. I’d say you’re the one who ought to be on the lookout.” She turned to leave but stopped herself short. “Oh, I almost forgot. Think you could help me out with something while I’m gone?” She reached into the picnic basket to reveal a second bottle of mead. “I’d hate for this to go to waste.” With that, she turned to depart. “I’ll be gone a while, boys.” She tossed them a wink and left.
* * *
Panic gripped David as he watched James uncork the second bottle of mead. He’d been so strong today. In fact, he’d almost been able to get over James.
Almost.
He felt his palms sweat as he eyed James topping off their cups. Already, his mind was growing fuzzy. The last thing he needed was to further impair his self-control.
“You don’t mind if I unbutton, do you?” James asked as he opened his shirt. “You know, since it’s just us guys now.”
David felt a rush of heat color his cheeks. “No, uh, of course not,” he stammered. “Why would I?”
A wry grin flashed on James’ face. “I didn’t think you’d be opposed.”
David downed a hearty gulp of mead. Jesus Christ, this man was beautiful. He resisted the urge to lick his lips as he eyed the sunlight streaming down on James’ glistening torso.
How did this guy do it? His pecs, his abs, all chiseled like they were carved from marble.
The worst part was that, not only was James the hunk of David’s dreams, he also had the nerve to be…sweet.
Stop it, David, he told himself. At best, he was wasting his time. At worst, he was making a fool of himself.
Tell that to your cock, James’ eyes seemed to say.
“What was that?” David asked.
“I said,” James repeated, “who knew you were such a jock.” He took another sip of mead. “You were killing it out on the field this morning.”
“Thanks,” David replied self-consciously. “I’m not normally so competitive. I don’t know what got into me.”
The comment drew a raised eyebrow from James. “Do things get into you often?”
David blushed again. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” He took another swig of mead, fully aware it was a bad idea.
James joined him in partaking. “You know, my sister seems to be quite taken with you.”
“For what reason, I haven’t a clue.”
James smiled flirtatiously. “I’d say there are plenty of reasons.”
“Oh?” David folded his arms. He felt his body loosening. “Perhaps you should enlighten me.”
James leaned back on their picnic blanket. “Well, you are a prince, for starters.”
David rolled his eyes. “So, that’s the best you’ve got?”
“I said ‘for starters,’” James defended. “You’re also kind.” He took a swig of mead. “You’re romantic.” He took another swig. “And to top it off, you’re sexy as fuck.” He tossed his empty cup aside.
That was all the invitation David needed. He couldn’t bear to resist any longer. Relinquishing himself, he pressed his lips against James’.
And instantly regretted it. “Shit,” he said as he pulled himself away. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Disappointment spread across James’ face. “Sorry? What’s there to be sorry about?” He drew himself close to David. “You’re a man. I’m a man. We’re out here together in man’s domain.” He motioned to the forest around them. “Perhaps we ought to, you know, do what men were meant to do.” He leaned back in for another kiss.
“I don’t know,” David resisted. “I’m just not sure I swing that way.”
James let out a chuckle. “Are you kidding me? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been eyeing me.”
David had to admit it, James wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t exactly done a bang-up job of hiding his infatuation with the far-off prince. “I don’t know…don’t get me wrong, I do want to, but how do I know I can trust you?”
A heartfelt smile lit up James’ face. “Oh, baby. You can always trust me.” He pressed his lips back against the prince.
Surrendering to his desires, David allowed his body to sink into James. He melted into the charming prince’s arms. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
Images of kissing another man had filled his fantasies for longer than he could remember. Who it would be. Where it would happen. How it would feel.
Kissing James was everything David had hoped for and more. Until now, he’d denied himself, pretending as if ignoring his desires could make them go away. He’d never truly realized it, but now he knew the truth—all these years, he’d been living in black and white. With James, the whole world was lit up in color.
David breathed in deep. It was as if, thanks to James, he was finally seeing for the very first time.
He kissed James back, locking lips together with the man who’d finally opened his eyes. How had he ever lived without this? To think that this was what he’d been missing.
“I’ve been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,” James confessed.
“Well, why did you wait so long?”
“Because, I wanted to make sure that you were thinking about it, too.”
David laughed lightly. “Trust me, I was thinking about it…probably even more than you were.”
“I doubt that highly.” James tossed him a wink.
David went back in for another kiss. The whole world seemed to fade away as he lost himself in James’ eyes. It was as if time had come to a standstill.
All David’s cares, all his worries—none of them seemed to matter. Not when he had James by his side.
“So…what now?” James asked.
“What do you mean, silly boy?”
“Well, we did meet because you were trying to find yourself a princess.”
“Correction,” David replied, “we met because my parents were trying to find me a princess.”
James nodded his understanding. “So, how are you going to tell them?”
“Tell them?” The idea seemed appall David.
“Well, yeah. You can’t keep pretending forever.”
Silence hung between them as David considered James’ point. “Do you mean to tell me your family knows about you?”
“Of course, they do. For a long time, actually.”
The revelation left David dumbfounded. “And they weren’t disappointed?”
“Quite the opposite. They issued a royal proclamation.”
David shook his head. “My folks are different. They have…expectations.” Just the word left a bad taste in his mouth.
“I’m sure they’d come around,” James encouraged.
“But what about your sister? She’d be heartbroken if she found out I didn’t want to marry her.”
James smirked playfully. “Something tells me it’s a little late for that.”
Defensive, David cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
James let out a chuckle. “Do you really think it was a coincidence that she led us all the way out here just to conveniently disappear? Come on, David. Surely, you’re not that naïve?”
It was the second time in as many minutes that the prince found himself utterly speechless.
“I could help you, you know,” James offered. “Besides, wouldn’t it be nice if every day could be like this?” He leaned back in toward David.
The prince could feel the passion flow between them as they kissed. It was as if they were designed for each other. Perhaps he’d thought being with Cassandra had felt right. This he knew felt right.
“OK, it’s settled,” David said. “I’ll tell them.”
Just then, a figure emerged through the trees. “Tell us what, David?” A pause followed. “Oh…”
TO BE CONTINUED
Charming the Prince, Part 2
A Spicy M/M Royal Fantasy Romance
Previously, David had always thought dying of humiliation was simply an expression. But with his father standing over him, nearly catching him in flagrante with his bride-to-be’s brother, David surprised himself that he hadn’t keeled over instantly.
“Is there something I should know about, son?”
The sound of a pin drop could have been heard across Cockshire Wood as David tried to muster a response.
James took it upon himself to attempt to salvage the situation. “We hadn’t expected you, Your Highness.”
The King let out a scoff. “Clearly.” He turned back to David. “You all were gone so long, your mother and I got worried.” His chest expanded with a deep breath. “Should we be worried?”
A million thoughts raced through David’s mind. Everything James had just made him feel were feelings David had only dreamt about. He’d made David feel accepted. He’d made David feel understood. He’d made David feel…
Loved.
Get real, David, he thought to himself. You had a horny roll in the hay with a guy you barely even know.
Despite his best efforts, though, David failed to dissuade himself of his feelings. He knew something special when he felt it.
The trouble was, he also knew his opinions would not be shared by the royal court. He felt his palms sweat. Did this all have to happen so quickly? Sure, he’d just said he was ready to tell his parents—but he hadn’t meant that second. Couldn’t a guy get some warning?
“Go on, David,” James encouraged. “Just say to him what you said to me.”
Wistfulness wrapped David as he melted into James’ eyes. His deep eyes. His sensitive eyes. His kind eyes.
His eyes David knew he didn’t deserve.
“It was just the mead.”
A sigh of relief escaped the King. “Oh, thank God.”
David couldn’t bring himself to look at James. He’d betrayed him, and he knew it.
And he’d never hated himself more.
The King chuckled awkwardly. “We all experiment, I suppose.” He averted his eyes. “Although, I myself can’t claim to have dipped my toe into that particular pool.” Musing, he turned his attention to James. “I hope you aren’t too ashamed, my boy.”
James tossed a meaningful glance at David. “Who, me? I’m not ashamed of anything that happened.”
The King gave him a jovial punch on the arm. “That’s the spirit. Boys will be boys, am I right? I’m just glad we won’t have to cancel the coronation ball.”
David did a double take. “The what?”
The King gave his son a look like he’d just sprouted a second head. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. It’s—”
“I get it,” David interrupted, doing his best to hide his frustration. “It’s tradition, right?”
“Now you’re catching on.” The King furrowed his brow. “Speaking of coronations, what have you done with our future queen?”
Just then, a voice chimed in from behind. “Somebody mention me?”
All eyes turned to Cassandra, a fresh bouquet of wildflowers in-hand.
“Darling!” the King boomed. “What a sight for sore eyes.” Hooking the princess’s arm, he led the way back to the castle. “Come, everyone. We have much to do if we’re to have ourselves this ball.”
David looked on as his father dragged his bride-to-be ahead. He turned to James beside him. Before he could open his mouth, though, James beat him to it.
“Don’t.”
Hollow, David watched as the man of his dreams walked ahead without him.
* * *
No dreams would be had by the prince that night, however. Alone in his bedchamber, David was plagued by his demons from earlier in the day.
“Damn it, David,” he cursed to himself. He punched his bed pillow. How could an afternoon that had started out so wonderfully end up so horribly wrong?
He’d debated making a second attempt at an apology. But, come on, James had to cut him a little slack. David’s life wasn’t anything like his.
He heaved a sigh. Man, what he wouldn’t have given to be out and proud like James. That guy didn’t know how good he had it.
What was David supposed to have said to the King? Surprise, Dad! Guess we don’t have to worry about that royal wedding you and Mom had always wanted for me. Guess the entire future you planned for your son is down the drain. Guess everything you thought you knew about me was a lie.
A pang hit his chest. If there was anyone he was lying to, David knew it was himself.
He hid his face in his pillow. What he needed was to take his mind off this afternoon. And he knew just how to do it.
The brush of his silk pajamas sliding down over his cock sent tingles through David’s body. Savoring the sensation, he kicked off his pants at the foot of the bed.
Laying back, he admired his ample manhood. His cock was still soft, but even so, it was a package to be proud of.
Tightening his grip, David handled his growing phallus. He could feel between his fingers the blood filling up his manhood, making him erect.
And then, he began to stroke. Just slowly, so he could feel every inch of his hardening tool. He let himself sink into the mattress. What did he need a man for when he could supply this pleasure himself?
Leaning back into his pillow, David let his mind slip away. The sound of his hand sloshing up and down his wet, sloppy cock faded deep into the background as images of pleasure began filling his head. The knight from his boyhood storybook was still a mainstay of his fantasies to this day.
His mind’s eye envisioned the knight straddled over him. His deep, dreamy eyes. His dark, chestnut hair. His cute, dimpled cheeks.
It was then that realization struck him. He wasn’t imagining a knight. He was imagining…James.
James with those big, broad shoulders. James with that hulking, sculpted chest. David licked his lips sensually. James with that heavy, bulging crotch.
He stopped himself instantly. What are you doing, David?
Resolving himself, he shut a mental door. What you need to do, David, is forget all about that guy. Why don’t you try imagining a woman for a change? After all, you are about to marry one.
He felt his manhood soften. Well, so much for that.
He released a sigh of surrender. “Aww, fuck it.”
Opening the floodgates of his mind, David released a tidal wave of fantasies. He imagined James sucking him. Those lips would feel so good wrapped around his shaft. He imaged James fucking him. He bet that stud could plow for hours.
But most of all, what David imagined was James loving him.
A thick wad of cream shot out of his cock. From his naval up to his neck, David’s torso was coated in a warm, sticky load.
A load made possible by a single, undeniable man.
“God damn it,” David sighed.
* * *
After a release like that, David would have thought he’d be able to fall asleep. Unfortunately, his session of self-care had served only to arouse him further.
What he needed, David decided, was to get his blood pumping in another way. Stretch a different muscle, so to speak. And a little night air never hurt anyone.
Pulling himself out of bed, he replaced his pajama pants. The silk tickled his sensitive, post-nut cock.
“How can you be horny again?” David griped.
Quietly, he emerged from his chamber to take a stroll through the castle. With any luck, getting his legs moving would be the cure to ease his mind.
Careful not to disturb anyone, he ambled through the palace halls. His shadow stretched on in the glow of the candlelit wall sconces.
A sigh escaped him as he gazed through the window at the starry night outside. This royal wedding would go on as planned—likely, whether David wanted it to or not. So why bother fighting the inevitable? He’d get over James eventually. So what if he never got to make love to a man? He probably wasn’t missing out on much. How good could sex really be between two men?
Just then, a faint moan echoed through the castle halls.
David arched an eyebrow. “What the…?”
The sound was barely audible, but even so, it was impossible to ignore.
“That can’t possibly be…”
There was only one way to find out. Mustering his courage, David followed the sound down the hall. He wasn’t sure if he should be doing this, but his curiosity was too much to resist.
Heart pounding, he let the siren song lead the way. Little by little, the moaning grew louder as David drew closer.
He reached the stairs to the castle dungeon. There was no doubt about it, the sounds were coming from below.
David swallowed a nervous gulp. Did he really want to do this?
Abso-freaking-lutely.
Cautiously, he eased open the heavy, wooden door to the stairwell leading down. Pausing, he listened to make sure that no one had heard the creak. Judging by the continued moans of passion coming from below, David figured he was in the clear.
He closed the door behind him.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
Slowly, he tiptoed down the stairs. They were constructed in a spiral—a thick, central column hiding the view ahead.
“Ahhhhh, mmmmm,” a masculine voice moaned below.
David felt his pants begin to swell. Perhaps he should turn back. After all, this was awfully risky. What if he got caught?
“Ohhhhh yeahhhhh,” a second voice—also a man’s—joined in.
It was all the convincing David needed. Hugging against the central column, he proceeded down the stairs.
Who could these secret lovers be? The question sent tingles surging through David’s body.
He paused on the stairs. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this. After all, these men had clearly come down here for some privacy. The abandoned castle dungeon wasn’t exactly the place to find an audience.
He considered his dilemma. Yes, spying was wrong, but any day now, David would belong to his new bride. This was probably the only chance he’d ever get to experience—even if vicariously—the allure of gay sex. Could he really pass up an opportunity like this?
Just then, a solution dawned on him. He could ask to join. That way, everything would be above board. Sure, they might say no, but heck, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? And if he was shot down, at least David would know he tried.
He swallowed a gulp. A three-way, though? Was he really ready for that? After all, his sexual experiences to date began and ended with jerking. Albeit, jerking to fantasies that were literally just like the scene playing out around the corner, but was group sex really how he wanted to have his first encounter with another man?
And then he remembered. More likely than not, this would also be his last encounter with another man.
He proceeded ahead. Nothing like going out with a bang.
“Uhhhhhmmmmmfffff,” one of the voices moaned again.
Wow, David thought to himself, whoever this guy is, he is one lucky dude right now.
Just then, the other voice spoke. “You like it when I suck your cock, James?”
An anvil dropped inside David’s chest. James? With who?
He peered around the corner at the base of the stairs. There before him, live and in-person, was a sight he couldn’t believe.
James was getting a blowjob from one of the castle guards!
A wave of heat rose in David’s body. That rotten bastard. How dare he? Just that afternoon, he’d come on to David, and now he had the nerve to have illicit, meaningless sex with one of the castle guards?
Illicit, meaningless sex that couldn’t have been a more enticing show.
It was then that David felt a different kind of heat rise in his chest. Although he was still furious at James for betraying him, he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene taking place before him.
Standing with his arms above his head, James clung to an old pair of prison shackles hanging from the ceiling as the guard, down on his knees, eagerly serviced his manhood. His naked, toned torso glistened with sweat in the candlelight.
I can’t believe I’m actually watching this right now, David thought to himself.
The guard sucked hungrily, swallowing the entirety of James’ cock down his throat. And judging by how wide his mouth was open, that appeared to be no small feat.
Damn, David thought, I almost wish he’d take his mouth off that thing so I could get a look at it. He licked his lips as he watched James’ chest rise and fall with increasing intensity. The visiting prince was being taken to his limits.
Just then, James interrupted the guard’s services. “Hold up,” he panted. “I don’t want to cum yet.”
David felt his heart begin to race. It appeared he was about to get his wish.
Reluctantly, the guard complied with James’ request…revealing the most beautiful, massive cock David could ever have imagined.
Thick drool dripped from James’ member as the guard slid back his mouth, gagging as he released the glorious specimen.
David instantly became erect at the sight. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d ever wish to trade places with one of the staff.
“Holy fuck,” he said under his breath.
It alerted the two lovers instantly.
“Who’s there?” called James.
A rush of adrenaline spiked in David. Shit. The next thing he knew, he was standing face-to-face with James.
“David?”
“Heh-heh, surprise.”
“Dude, what the fuck?”
The accusation instantly reignited the anger David had felt earlier. “I should ask you the same thing.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Since when is it a crime to get a blowjob?”
David scoffed bitterly. “Since this afternoon when you came on to me, you asshole.”
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” the guard chimed in as he gathered up his clothes.
“No, just wait,” James directed.
“Yes, stay,” David berated. “Clearly, he’s taken a liking to you. Just don’t expect it to last.”
James propped his hands on his hips. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“How could you do this to me?” David attacked. “Flirting with me, making me feel special—and then you pull something like this?”
James scoffed in disbelief. “This was your decision, David.”
“Mine?!”
“Yes. You could have told your father the truth. Been honest with him about who you really are. You’re a good guy, David, but I won’t live my life in the shadows.”
David rolled his eyes. “Says the guy having sex down in a dungeon.”
“I gave you a chance,” James countered. “You clearly didn’t want to take it, so don’t act like you have any right to be upset by this.”
David heaved a sigh. Though he hated to admit it, he knew James was right. “I thought I loved you.”
James shook his head. “You’re never going to be ready to love someone, David, until first you learn how to love yourself.” He turned to the guard. “Sorry, man. I think I need to call it a night.”
Watching James collect his clothes, David cursed himself for coming down here.
* * *
The following morning, David’s first thought upon awaking was that perhaps the previous night had all been a bad dream. Unfortunately, his tear-stained bed pillow proved otherwise.
“David,” called the Queen through his bedchamber door, “up and at ’em, sweetheart. You have a big day today.”
“Great,” he mumbled into his pillow.
“Breakfast will be ready soon, dear. See you in the dining hall.”
David let out a groan. The thought of eating made him feel sick. Or rather, he realized, the thought of who he’d have to eat with.
How was he going to face James after last night? David had made a fool of himself. James was right to be pissed at him. Royally pissed, as the case was.
He’d have to face the music sooner or later, though. Might as well get this over with.
But when he arrived in the dining room, James was nowhere to be seen.
“Are we to be joined by your brother, my fair Cassandra?” he asked.
“I’m afraid Prince James has taken ill this morning,” Cassandra replied. “He’s requested that we break our fast without him.”
David wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or ashamed. “I believe I, too, shall forgo nourishment this morn. It appears something has come on—over—me, as well. I think I shall take in some fresh air out in the garden.”
The suggestion earned him stern glares from the King and Queen as he departed.
“Jitters, I’m sure,” Cassandra salvaged. “Why don’t I go check on him?”
The princess found David seated on a bench in the middle of the castle’s expansive gardens.
“I brought tea,” she said.
David accepted the cup extended to him. “Taking a break from the mead, I see?”
The princess pulled out a flask from her cleavage. “David, you underestimate me.” She spiked her cup with a splash. “You want in?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” She capped the flask and returned it to her bosom. “So, something on your mind last night, eh?”
David took a sip from his teacup. “What makes you say that?”
Cassandra shot him an are-you-kidding-me look. “David, maybe the King and Queen are oblivious, but I, for one, happen to be smarter than the average blonde.”
David sighed, disheartened. “That obvious, huh?”
She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you just tell them how you feel? I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“You don’t know my parents, then. They’ve been waiting for the day I get married and take over the kingdom since I was in diapers. I can’t let them down.”
Cassandra took a sip of her fortified tea. “Even if it means letting yourself down?”
David furrowed his brow. “But what about you? You traveled all this way to marry a prince. If I don’t see this through, this will all be a waste for you.”
“That’s not the way I see it.” Cassandra sipped from her teacup thoughtfully. “Sure, maybe this trip doesn’t end with me giving my hand in marriage. That doesn’t mean it can’t end with me giving a helping hand. Remember? ‘To living live on our own terms.’” She raised her teacup in a toast only to discover the vessel empty. “Aww, hell.” Tossing the cup into the bushes, she pulled out her flask. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you and James last night, and frankly, I don’t care to ask. However, one thing I do know is that you’re both great guys and you’d be lucky to have each other. Don’t let this chance slip away.”
David heaved a sigh as he gazed out into the gardens. “Well, you’re half right. James is a great guy. Me, not so much.”
“Don’t say that about yourself. Look, whatever happened last night, it can be fixed.”
“I don’t know. I fucked up pretty bad.”
Cassandra shook her head. “If you fucked it up, you can fix it up.” She took another swig from her flask. “But only you can make things right.”
“How do I do that?”
“Well, honesty is always a good place to start.”
“You mean—?”
“Bingo.”
“I can’t do that, Cassandra. All my parents want is for me to become King. I can’t do that if I’m gay.”
“But marrying a princess, that you can do?”
David grumbled in frustration.
“Listen, I happen to be working with a highly sought-after piece of merchandise, if I do say so myself.” Cassandra adjusted her bust for emphasis. “I don’t want these puppies going to waste, catch my drift?”
“We could still see other people on the side…”
Cassandra let out a snort. “We’d certainly have to.” With that, she softened again. “But is that what you want, David? A life of lying to your friends, your family, yourself?” She heaved a sigh. “Look, I support you whatever you decide. But just be sure this is what you want to do.”
“What’s what you want to do?”
The third voice startled David and Cassandra.
“Dad!” David gasped. “We were just talking about, uh, serving vegetarian hors d’oeuvres at the ball tonight.”
The King wrinkled his nose. “Vegetarian? What’s gotten into you, dear boy?”
David looked to Cassandra for backup but found none. “Sure, Dad. It’s very in vogue these days. Everyone’s doing it.”
The King stuck his nose in the air. “Everyone but me, in that case. I’m willing to embrace new ideas as much as the next person, David, but there’s got to be a line somewhere.” He nudged the pair back to the castle. “Come. Tonight’s ball will be the social event of the season. We’ve much to prepare if we want it to be an enjoyable evening.”
Something, however, told David this evening would be anything but enjoyable.
* * *
In short order, the trio was back at the main castle entrance—but the scene to which they arrived gave all of them a start.
“James?” Cassandra asked. “What’s this?”
James secured a satchel of belongings to the side of his awaiting horse. “I’m sorry, sister, that I’ll have to miss the ball. I’m sure it will be a beautiful evening.”
“You’re leaving?”
James nodded affirmatively. “Duty calls back home.”
David felt like a bullet had just blown through his chest.
The Queen helped James with another of his satchels. “You’ll be missed dearly, but know that Cassandra will be in excellent hands with us.”
James nodded respectfully. “I don’t doubt it, Your Majesty.” He raised himself onto his steed.
Looking on helplessly, David felt a rush of panic. James couldn’t leave now.
This was all his fault, David knew. James wasn’t leaving to attend to royal business—he was leaving to get away from him.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“James, wait. There’s something I have to say.”
All eyes—the King, the Queen, Cassandra, and James—turned to David. The silence rang piercingly inside his ears.
He swallowed a gulp. “Have a safe trip.”
A shadow of disappointment fell over James’ face. He nodded cordially. “Take care, David.” With that, he turned away and rode off.
David didn’t speak a word as the prince made his exit. His exit from the castle. His exit from the kingdom.
His exit from David’s life.
David, you fucking idiot, he thought to himself.
* * *
Just as the king had hoped, even before the coronation ball had begun, it was already shaping up to be the highlight of the season. From far and wide, kings, queens, dukes, and more descended upon the castle to toast David’s coronation—and feast their eyes upon his soon-to-be queen. Rumor had it the prince had scored big in landing a bride-to-be like her.
“Ah, the Earl of Naughtyham,” the King bellowed as he greeted the visiting dignitary. “And Lady Netherbum, how good of you to come.” He turned to his wife gleefully. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since Lord Woodywick raffled off his family jewels!”
The Queen smiled at her husband’s enthusiasm. “Just remember, dear, tonight is David’s night. I don’t want you stealing the spotlight.”
“Pish-posh, sugar pie. You worry too much. I have a feeling we’ll remember this night forever.”
The conversation was cut short by a fanfare of bugles. “Hear ye, hear ye.”
A hush fell over the teeming ballroom.
The royal crier continued his announcement. “Presenting your soon-to-be-royal couple of our fine kingdom. Firstly, it is my honor to introduce to you the lady of the hour, the lovely Princess Cassandra from the land of Ballenchain.”
Applause erupted as Cassandra descended the grand staircase.
Once the clapping had died down, the crier resumed. “And now, for the man of the hour, our own handsome Prince David, heir to the throne of Cockshire.”
Even more thunderous applause exploded. Cheers rang out as the crowd waited for their prince.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The crier cocked his head. “Prince David? Ahem, now paging Prince David!”
But the prince was nowhere to be seen.
Murmurs broke out among the crowd. What on Earth could have happened to their fair prince David?
The answer, though, was clear to Princess Cassandra. Smiling, she cheered under her breath. “Go get him, David.”
* * *
Adrenaline coursed through David’s veins as he rode his noble steed over the winding trails of Cockshire Wood.
“Come on, boy, faster! I know you’ve got it in you.”
His eyes scanned the forest as his horse galloped onward. How could he have been so stupid? James was quite literally the best thing to have ever happened to him, and he, being the idiot he was, had let him slip away.
Sure, he may have only known James a few days, but they were without a doubt some of the best days of David’s life. Just being in James’ presence made David feel whole. And now that he was gone, David didn’t know how he’d ever stand the emptiness.
Ditching the coronation ball probably hadn’t been his proudest moment, but desperate times called for desperate measures. No way was he going to smile and eat petit fours with a bunch of stuffy aristocrats while the man of his dreams rode out of his world.
He wondered if his absence had been noticed yet. David knew that as soon as it was, he’d only have a limited amount of time before a full-scale search party was launched to hunt him down. He had to find James before that.
Hopefully, Cassandra would forgive him for leaving her in the lurch. He’d meant to tell her, but with the number of witnesses arriving at the castle for the ball, he knew the only way to pull this off would be to slip away discreetly.
Even so, it was still a longshot. Cockshire Wood stretched for acres. Trying to find James in here was like looking for a needle in a haystack. David didn’t have the first clue where his dream man could be.
Or, then again, maybe he did.
A sudden epiphany dawned on him. “I know where he is.”
Pulling back the reins, David brought his horse to halt. “All right, boy, what do you say to a picnic?”
* * *
Their picnic site was right where David remembered. And just as he’d suspected, there was James, sitting alongside his own horse, a contemplative shadow clouding his face.
David approached cautiously. “Fancy meeting you here.”
James gave a start at the familiar voice. “How did you find me?”
“Because this was exactly where I wanted to be, too.” He dismounted his horse to join James on the grass.
“If you’ve come to berate me again, just save your breath, OK?”
David took a seat next to James. “Quite the opposite. I came here to apologize.”
James let out a scoff. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”
David gave a shrug. “I guess that’s for you to decide.”
James hardened his exterior. “In that case, you’d better have a hell of an apology prepared.”
David nodded in understanding. “Fair.” He chewed his lip as he mulled over his words. “I’m not a jealous person, James. But when I saw you with that guard last night, I couldn’t control myself. I want you so much, James. More than anything I’ve ever wanted my entire life.”
James shook his head. “Except, of course, becoming king. You made that clear the other day.” He scoffed in spite of himself. “Look, David, there’s nothing I’d love more than to build a life together. From the moment I laid eyes on you, something came alive in me. I know we haven’t known each other long, but even already, I feel like I’d do anything for you.”
“But don’t you see, James, that’s exactly how I—”
“Anything except for one thing.”
Chastened, David fell silent.
James inhaled deeply. “The one thing I won’t do for you is live a lie. And right now, David, you are living a major lie.”
David nodded somberly as silence hung between them.
James got up to leave. “Be good to Cassandra.”
David felt his chest sink as, for the second time that day, he watched the man he loved walk out of his life. “I most certainly will not be good to Cassandra.”
The comment drew an alarmed look from James.
David swallowed a nervous gulp. “I won’t be good to Cassandra…because I want to be good to you, James.”
Tentative, James waited for David to go on.
Mustering his courage, David continued. “I don’t want to live a lie anymore, James. I want to live with you.”
A glow seemed to light up James’ entire body. “Do you mean that? You know what you’ll have to do, right? And you realize that means you’ll never get to be king, then?”
David placed his hand atop James’. “If I can be with you, then I’m going to feel like a king every day of my life.”
Without warning, James planted a deep, passionate kiss on David’s lips.
It took all David’s might to pull himself away. “There’s something I have to do first, though.” A wry grin twisted his face. “You ever crash a royal ball before?”
* * *
Meanwhile, back at the castle, the scene had quickly descended into chaos. Across the ballroom, the visiting nobility were in shambles over the prince’s mysterious disappearance.
Perhaps none of the attendees, though, had worked themselves into such a tizzy as the King and Queen.
“Where are my royal guards?” the King bellowed. “I want a full-scale search party deployed post-haste!”
Cassandra, knowing the truth, did her best to placate the distressed dignitary. “I’m sure David’s all right, Your Majesty. He probably just went out to get some air.”
The King gawked at her as if she’d just uttered blasphemy. “Get some air? What reason could David possibly have for needing to get some air on a night that’s all about him?!” He paused, realizing his gaffe. “And, of course, you too, my dear.” He shook his head in concern. “No, I can feel it, darling, something has gone horribly wrong.”
Just then, almost as if on cue, the ballroom doors swung open. “Sorry for being late. Hope I didn’t keep you all waiting.”
A collective gasp shook the crowd.
“David, you’re safe!” The King and Queen wrapped the prince in a hug.
After a brief bout of suffocation, David managed to pry himself free. “You weren’t worried, were you?”
“Not anymore, my boy.” The King took his son under his arm. “Now that you’re here, we can finally proceed with this evening as planned.”
A grimace spread across David’s face. “Well…not exactly.”
It was then that James entered the ballroom, as well.
The sight made the King do a double take. “James? I thought you left.”
“He did,” David replied. “But I asked him to come back.”
Now it was the Queen’s turn to be confused. “Whatever for, David?”
Drawing in a breath, David turned back toward James. The man of his dreams was nodding his support.
He spun back toward his parents. “Because Cassandra isn’t the girl for me.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
“That’s all right, son,” the King assured. “There’s plenty of other princesses we can find for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” David replied. He drew in a breath. “I’ve already found the person I want to spend my life with, Dad.”
The King appeared genuinely at a loss. “You did? Well, who is she, my boy?”
David shook his head. “Not ‘she,’ Dad. He.”
He reached out to take James’ hand. The sight left the crowd speechless.
“Two days ago,” David explained, “I was lying. Lying to this family, lying to this kingdom, but most important of all, I was lying to myself.” He tossed a loving glance at James. “And then the stars brought James into my life and suddenly I saw everything clearly. I saw myself clearly.”
The King regarded his son tentatively. “David, what are you saying?”
David swallowed hard. “Mom, Dad.” He met eyes with them both. “I’m gay.”
The admission cast a silence over the room. Across the crowd, not a word was uttered as the guests, nonplussed, waited to see who would be brave enough to speak first.
The King, reeling, searched for the right words. “Son, is this true?”
“I know what this means,” David replied. “And I don’t take it lightly. Being king was all I thought I ever wanted. But then, I found something better.” He smiled back at James. “And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
Just then, the royal crier piped up. “Now, let’s all wait a minute.”
Hardening, David drew a frown. “My mind is made up, crier. I choose James, and nothing you say will talk me out of it.”
“On the contrary,” the crier continued. “What I mean is, you may not have to choose.”
All eyed widened as David cocked his head. “Come again?”
The crier pulled out a yellowed scroll. “It’s all right here in the kingdom bylaws.” He scanned the sprawling document. “Ah, here it is: ‘Upon assuming his role, the King of Cockshire must select a partner deemed worthy by the royal court to rule by his side.’” He rolled the scroll back up. “There’s nothing in here that says that partner needs to be a queen. All it requires is that the King’s partner be deemed worthy.”
Bewilderment etched the humbled King’s face. “You don’t say?”
David braced himself as his father furrowed his brow in thought. This was not going to end well.
The King turned out toward the crowd. “Honorable guests, it is not lost on me that you’ve traveled from all corners of the land to be with us here tonight. And what at night it has been.”
A sinking feeling hit David in the pit of his stomach. His father was priming the crowd for bad news.
“Those of you who know me,” the King continued, “know how much I cherish tradition.”
David heaved a sigh. Here it comes.
“For centuries, our kingdom has abided by the laws of this land. Whether in the letter of the law or the spirit of the law, we intend to honor our heritage.”
Oh, brother, David thought to himself.
“Which is why,” the King went on, “I would like to be the first to bestow my blessing upon my son and the man who has earned his love.”
David’s jaw practically hit the floor. “Dad, are you serious?”
The King smiled proudly. “All I’ve ever wanted for you is to be happy, son. And it’s clear that James is the one who makes you happy, David.” He turned to Cassandra. “I hope you aren’t too disappointed, my dear.”
The princess smiled wryly at the couple. “I’m sure I’ll get over it someday.”
Just then, the crier inserted himself. “Not so fast, everyone. The bylaws state that the king’s chosen partner must be deemed worthy by a royal court.”
The King nodded, then turned out to the crowd. “That seems like a reasonable request. All right, everyone, what do we say?”
David felt his palm get sweaty in James’ hand. The moment of truth.
The reaction was unmistakable. Across the ballroom, the entire party burst into cheers that could have been heard from the next kingdom over.
The King smiled broadly at the two young men. “I think that settles it, boys.”
Fighting back tears, David felt his heart swell as he held James’ hand before their guests. Everywhere he looked, he saw smiling, joyful faces.
But still, the most beautiful face of all was the one right next to him.
Turning in toward James, he let his lips melt passionately into his lover’s.
It was James who finally broke their kiss, but only long enough to whisper into David’s ear. “So, what do you say tonight I show you just what you’ve been missing all this time?”
TO BE CONTINUED
Charming the Prince, Part 3
A Spicy M/M Royal Fantasy Romance
“All right, Prince David. Ready to feel like a king?” A playful smirk spread across James’ face.
Nodding, David took in the specimen of a man there in his bedchamber.
“Good.” James shut the door behind them. “Because tonight I’m giving you the royal treatment.”
David practically wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Tonight sure had felt like a dream. After his announcement, the coronation ball had passed by in a blur.
He was finally getting his happily ever after, and it was all because of one man.
“Thank you,” David said simply.
James cracked a bemused grin. “I haven’t even done anything to you yet.”
David released a chuckle. “You’ve done more than you realize.”
He was about to go on when James pressed a finger to his lips. “Then how about you let me do what I do best?”
The question sent a thrill through David’s body. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
The prince’s wish was James’ command. Slowly, he began to pull his tunic up over himself.
An electric charge flowed through David’s veins as, inch by inch, James uncovered his chiseled, furry torso.
“Enjoying the view?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Tossing his tunic to the floor, James stood bare-chested before David. The prince inhaled sharply. James was even more beautiful than he remembered.
“You going to join me, or do I have to do this alone?”
Instantly, David snapped out of his daze. “Oh, no. You most certainly are not doing this alone.” Eagerly, he whipped off his own tunic.
Hungry lust filled James’ eyes. “For living a life of leisure, you sure don’t look it.”
The compliment turned David’s cheeks red. It was true, he’d taken care to keep his body in shape. But even so, there was no comparing himself to James. While toned, David still had a lean, narrow frame. James, on the other hand, possessed a build like a warrior.
“Ready to see more?” James asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life.”
Locking his gaze with David, James undid his belt. His pants dropped to the floor.
And David’s eyes dropped to James’ cock.
“Talk about king-size.”
James scoffed sarcastically. “Your turn, stud.”
David was more than happy to oblige.
A deep breath filled James’ chest as the prince undid his pants. “Wow, you’re not so small yourself.”
David shrugged modestly. “I always assumed I was just average.”
James licked his lips hungrily. “Take it from me. There is nothing average about what you’re packing.” He drew himself closer so they could admire their pipes together.
In girth and size, they were similar, although admittedly, James did have a slight advantage. Where they differed was in their…ornamentation. While David was relatively smooth down below, James sported a thick patch of dark, curly hair.
“These cocks look pretty good together.”
David nodded ardently. “It’s like they’re made for each other.”
A smile spread on James’ face. “That’s because they are.” Reaching out, James took hold of David’s meat and pulled it toward his own.
The grip of James’ hand on his shaft practically made David’s knees buckle. His erection only grew as James massaged their shafts against each other.
“Holy fuck, James. Our dicks rubbing together. It feels…mind-blowing.”
James grinned devilishly. “And we’re just getting started.”
Suddenly, David’s cock pulsed in James’ hand. A thick rope of cum shot out.
“Or not.” James let out a chuckle.
David cursed to himself. “Fuck, I’m sorry, James.”
“No need to apologize. I’m glad it felt good.”
“Too good. I really wanted to go further.”
“Don’t sweat it. There’ll be plenty of time for that.”
“How should I get you off?”
James pecked his prince on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me, babe. It was hot seeing you enjoy yourself.” He licked David’s cum off his fingers. “Now, what do you say we get some sleep? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
Confusion etched David’s face. “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow.”
“Silly boy.” James kissed him again. “Tomorrow’s the first day of the rest of our lives together.” Blowing out the bedside candles, James snuggled his body against David’s.
Held in his lover’s arms, the prince let himself drift to sleep. Premature ejaculation aside, tonight had been perfect. Wonderfully, marvelously, deliriously perfect.
And David would do anything to make sure things stayed that way.
* * *
The morning, unfortunately, proved less than perfect. David and James awoke to an impatient knocking at the bedchamber door.
“I hope you’re not still sleeping,” the Queen’s voice, far too chipper for so early, called from the other side. “Balls must really take it out of you boys, eh?” She tittered at her joke.
“Mom!”
“I meant your coronation ball, David. Don’t be crude.” Her voice trailed off behind the door. “Breakfast in ten. And don’t be late. Your father and I have a surprise for you!”
The comment twisted David’s insides. What could his mother be cooking up this time?
It wasn’t long until he had his answer. “David, James,” the Queen bubbled as they arrived for breakfast, “there’s someone I’d like for you to meet.” Unable to contain herself, she gestured to the doorway as a walking hurricane blustered in. “This, boys, is Lady Sugarbottom…the royal wedding planner.”
“The what?!” David and James exclaimed in unison.
“Of course,” replied the King. “You didn’t think we’d have a coronation without a proper wedding?”
“This is a true honor!” Lady Sugarbottom gushed. “My first L-B-C-P…”
She furrowed her brow.
“My first L-E-D-P…”
She took another pause.
“My first gay wedding!”
She squeezed James and David against her bosom. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. I’m going to make sure your special day is perfect.”
It wasn’t often David found himself at a loss for words, but there in that moment, the prince of Cockshire was utterly speechless.
“That’s…that’s…”
Lady Sugarbottom seemed to sense his hesitation. “Everything all right, Your Highness?”
“I think,” James attempted to assist, “what David means to say is—”
“That’s wonderful!”
The morning passed by in a blur. There were many important decisions to make. Who would officiate? What colors would they wear? Would the families sit across the aisle or mixed? It was all infinitely exciting.
At least, it was at first. Quickly, David’s excitement gave way to another emotion…panic.
Did they want eggshell-colored napkins or marshmallow? Should the stringed quartet play Haydn or Bach? And now many tiers made a wedding cake gauche?
“I need some air.”
The outburst left the room speechless. All around, the King, the Queen, Lady Sugarbottom, and James himself gaped at the hyperventilating prince.
“Perhaps it’s time we took a little break.” James rested his hand on David’s crotch beneath the table. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling hungry. What would you say to another…picnic?” He tossed David a wink.
The prince felt his heart rate spike as he recalled their last picnic together. “I’ve got a feeling I could work up an appetite.”
* * *
“Ah, here’s the spot,” James announced. “I knew we’d find it again.”
David surveyed the forest around them. “Right where we had our first picnic together.” His face quirked in confusion. “But James…where’s the food?”
A bemused grin came over his groom. “Oh, David. We’re not really here to eat.” He pressed his body up against his lover, grabbing his package firmly.
The gesture gave David a jolt. “I don’t know, James. What if we get caught?”
“That’s part of the fun.” He tossed David a wink. “This wedding has you wound tighter than a spring. And I know just how to help you relax.” He began massaging David’s bulge through his pants.
The prince, however, quickly pulled his hand away. “Not that, James. I’ll cum again. I want to make this last.”
James returned David’s lustful grin. “Oh, yeah? Well, in that case, I think I came here to eat, after all.”
Confusion clouded David’s face as, in one swift movement, James spun his lover around, pushed him against a tree, and yanked his pants to the ground.
“What the—”
Down on his haunches, James licked his lips hungrily. “Fuck, that pink hole looks tasty.”
“Wait, are you going to—”
Before he could finish his question, though, David already had his answer.
“Hoooly fuuuck.”
James’ face was buried between David’s cheeks.
Coming up for air, James admired the pucker before him. “I take it this is the first time you’ve been eaten out?”
David tried to reply, but forming words was impossible while experiencing the new sensation James was giving him.
Entranced, David’s body quivered as bliss radiated from his hole. Clearly, James’ skills weren’t just limited to pleasuring cock. Fingers and toes curling, the prince moaned in delight as his lover savored his hole.
He lifted his head to survey their surroundings. No sign of company yet. It was then that he realized James was right. The exposure of the outdoors, the thrill of getting caught—it did make this even hotter.
What had his future husband awoken in him?
Doubling down, James began devouring the prince’s hole with abandon. He became feral, like an animal. Wild, like a warrior. Unbridled, like a beast.
David felt his eyes roll back in his head. What in the name of the crown had come over his groom?
“Fuck, David. I could eat you all day.” Pausing, he pulled his face back to admire David’s firm, round globes.
With both hands, he squeezed the prince’s cheeks. “I can’t wait to get my cock in there. Can you picture it, David? Two men. Out in man’s domain. Doing what men were meant to do.”
Suddenly, a familiar tingle rose in David’s groin. Uh-oh.
Trembles seized the prince’s body as a supernova of pleasure exploded inside him.
Coinciding with a supernova of pleasure exploding outside him.
“Whoa!” James exclaimed as he pulled back his head from David’s clenching hole. “Did you just cum hands-free?”
The prince, however, did not share James’ enthusiasm. “Not again.”
James planted a kiss on David’s cheeks—the hind ones—then promptly dove his face back into the prince’s still-quivering hole.
It nearly made David collapse. “How about I give you a turn?”
James forced himself to pause. “I think we’ll have to save that for later, babe. If we don’t get back to the castle soon, Lady Sugarbottom will get suspicious.”
David hated to admit it, but he knew James was right.
“I need you to promise me something, though,” James said. “Try to lighten up, will you?”
The prince sighed heavily. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
James took David’s hands in his. “As long as I say ‘I do’ and you say ‘I do,’ then as far as I’m concerned, our wedding will be as perfect as can be.”
A smile warmed David’s face. “I’m so lucky I have you.”
Standing, James wiped off his mouth. “Come on, let’s head back. We’ve got a wedding to plan.”
* * *
Unfortunately, James’ hopes for a calmer afternoon were not to materialize. Back at the castle, wedding planning had once again wasted no time turning David into a full-on groomzilla.
“Don’t you think these groom’s maid dresses look a little…snug?” James asked.
“Relax,” David insisted. “They aren’t going to be wearing them that long.”
“But a pyramid of champagne flutes, David? Doesn’t that sound a little…I don’t know, precarious?”
“That’s why we tell people to be careful.”
“And do we really need both rice and doves?”
“Pure white, like fresh-fallen snow.”
James released a sigh. “How about the venue then? The ballroom ought to be easy. It’s still set up from last night’s ball.”
David pouted his lips. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted an outdoor wedding.”
The afternoon continued in such fashion for what felt like an eternity to James. That is, until David finally picked up on his groom’s signals. Eyeing the setting sun, the prince turned to Lady Sugarbottom. “My, where has the time gone? I apologize, milady, but my future husband and I have important business to attend to this evening.”
Lady Sugarbottom drew a frown. “Important business…on the eve before your wedding day?” She shrugged in acceptance. “I suppose a prince’s duties are never done.”
David smiled as he lowered his hand beneath the table. “Good thing I don’t mind a little hard work.” He grabbed James’ cock discreetly. “Whatever decisions have yet to be made, we trust you’ll make the right call. We’re going to be a little tied up for the evening.” He tossed James a devilish wink.
* * *
“David, what gives?”
A playful grin flashed across the prince’s face as he led James down a darkened corridor. “Me.”
“Huh?”
“Tonight,” David clarified, “I’m doing the giving.” He cupped a hand under James’ junk.
The prince’s groom arched an eyebrow. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”
With perfect timing, the pair reached the door down to the dungeon.
“I was thinking,” David replied, “maybe you might like a turn calling the shots.”
The suggestion made James’ bulge twitch in the prince’s hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Descending the stairs, the two men made their way to the dungeon. Without a word, the prince disappeared into the shadows, returning moments later with a coil of rope.
A wicked smile appeared on James’ face. “So this is what you meant about being tied up.”
“Think you’re up to the challenge?”
James snatched the rope from David. “On your knees.”
The prince did as instructed. Looming above, James lifted David’s tunic off his body. The shadows from the dungeon torches danced sensuously across the prince’s flesh, highlighting every contour of his trim, bronzed torso.
Casually, James began to circle him. “You know, I’ve been pretty patient with you lately.” The dungeon floor scratched under his boots as he sauntered. “But I’ve got news for you.” He stopped abruptly behind David’s back. “Down here, I’m in charge.” He looped the rope around David’s body, pulling it tight against his chest and arms.
A thrilled gasp escaped the prince’s lips. “Tighter.”
A fiendish gleam lit up James’ eyes. “So, you like this, do you?” He cinched the rope tight.
David flexed his constricted pecs and biceps. “That’s more like it.”
“Oh, I’m not finished yet.” Joining David’s hands behind his back, David looped the rope around his wrists. “You did say you’d be tied up tonight.” He gave the rope another tug as David moaned with pleasure.
But there was one more step before the job would be complete. Taking the ends of the rope, James made a firm, tight knot around one of the dungeon’s iron bars. “Can’t have you getting away now, can we?”
David shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Good boy.”
Standing above the kneeling prince, James whipped off his tunic. A rush of adrenaline surged through David’s body as he took in the powerful man towering before him. His broad shoulders. His hard abs. His juicy nipples.
“That guard of yours sure showed me a good time down here the other night.” He cupped his bulge through his pants. “Think you can do better?” Without ceremony, he dropped his pants to the floor.
David licked his lips hungrily at the fat meat hanging just inches away from his face. He leaned in to taste it, but his binds held him back. James’ cock was just out of reach.
“You’re torturing me.”
A wicked smile twisted James’ face. “Well, this is the dungeon.”
“No fair.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Approaching the prostrate prince, James dangled his manhood over his face. David extended his neck to lick it, but his groom stopped him short. “Uh-uh-uh. Before you get your reward, first you need some punishment.”
A quizzical look etched David’s face, but James wasted no time showing the prince what he had in mind.
“Ugh,” David moaned as James’ semi-hard cock slapped across his cheek.
“Wipe that smile off your face, you whore. You aren’t supposed to enjoy discipline.”
The command only made David’s grin widen.
“All right. In that case, let’s see how you like this.” With a burst of force, James plunged his cock deep into David’s mouth.
The surge sent shockwaves through the prince’s body. Stunned, he recoiled back.
“Oh, no you don’t,” James said. He gripped David’s head and pushed it down on his rod. “I know you can take this all the way.”
Muffled gags escaped the prince’s mouth as his groom’s thickness filled his throat. Between his legs, his own erection started to grow.
“You like the taste of my meat, you little cock slut?” Gripping David’s hair, James thrusted his hips against the prince’s face, driving his shaft in and out of his mouth.
Stuffed with cock, David nodded wordlessly as his groom proceeded to face-fuck him.
Moans of pleasure issued forth from James. David felt like he was glowing inside, knowing the bliss he was providing his man. He looked up at his lover, syncing himself to the rhythm of the stud currently pile-driving his mouth.
Thrusting vigorously, James’ muscles glistened with sweat, his face shining with euphoria. Just the sight made David’s heartbeat race.
Gripping James’ ass, the prince dug his fingers into his firm, round cheeks. Any discomfort he’d initially felt at being orally penetrated had disappeared. Now, David couldn’t get enough.
Ravenous, he pulled James’ hips toward him. The head of his lover’s cock throbbed against the back of his throat. David smiled inwardly. If James thought that guard knew how to swallow cock, then he’d just have to show him what he’d been missing.
“Fuck, babe,” James sighed. “You’re insane at this. My cock feels so good in your warm, wet mouth.”
David increased his speed, his sloppy wads of spit providing a slick, smooth glide along the entirety of the monster shaft.
“Oh, man. You sure could teach that guard of yours a thing or two. What he gave me was nothing compared to this.”
That was all it took. Knowing that he’d won sent David over the edge. Every muscle in his body tensing, the prince writhed against his binds as, to his chagrin, a thick jet of cum shot out of his cock.
“Fuuuck, babe. Look at that load.”
David released a groan at the sight of his semen between James’ feet. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Don’t be upset, babe. That was majorly hot.”
“Yeah, but I was supposed to give you the orgasm this time.”
“It’s OK, babe,” James said as he knelt to David’s level. “You gave me plenty.” He kissed him on the mouth. “What do you say we get you untied?”
* * *
The morning, like David, came quickly. And much in the fashion of their late-night activities, the fast-approaching wedding made him, well, fit to be tied.
“Has anyone seen the rings? Oh, God. Did we lose the rings?”
Throughout the royal courtyard, the bustling castle staff exchanged dumbfounded glances.
“Relax, babe,” James said, approaching to kiss his groom. “I’ve got them right here.” He held out the rings in his palm. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”
The prince flared his nostrils. “Calm? I am calm! Why wouldn’t you think I’m calm, James?”
James bit his tongue, confident that anything he might say could only make matters worse.
Thankfully, Lady Sugarbottom came to the rescue. “There’s my boys!” She suffocated them in another big hug. “Ready for the final walkthrough?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” James replied before David had a chance.
The inspection began in short order. Taking the lead, Lady Sugarbottom began escorting David and James on a tour of the setup that would soon host—barring unforeseen circumstances, of course—the happiest day of the young couple’s lives.
“Don’t the girls look fabulous in these groom’s maid dresses?” Lady Sugarbottom asked.
James rubbed his chin. “Are you sure you girls are comfortable? Those dresses look a little…snug.”
David elbowed James in the ribs. “James! Be polite.”
Well,” one of the groom’s maids spoke, “as a matter of fact—”
“You look divine,” David cut off. “After all, beauty is pain, right? And don’t worry, the ceremony will be short, so you won’t have to suffer long.”
The next stop was the illustrious tower of champagne. Glass stacked upon glass, the pyramid soared overhead.
“Well done,” David cheered. “It really adds a touch of class, don’t you think, James?”
“I was going to say a touch of danger, but if that’s the way you see it…”
The final stop was the most important. The launch pad for the doves and rice.
“There’s three cords,” Lady Sugarbottom explained to one of the ushers. “The one on the left releases the doves, the one on the right shoots the rice, and the one in the middle is in case of emergency.”
“What kind of emergency could happen at a wedding?” the usher asked.
No sooner had the words left the poor sap’s mouth than a horrified gasp escaped David’s lips. “Code red! Code red!”
The group regarded the prince with bewilderment as he held up a grain of rice. “This isn’t pure white rice. This is beige-colored rice. Beige!”
James wiped his brow. “Phew. For a minute, I thought you were serious about having an emergency.”
“This is serious!” David bellowed. “Today is supposed to be magical, James. Magical can’t be beige. Is that how you want people to remember this? As a beige wedding?”
“I think I’ll give you two a moment,” Lady Sugarbottom said as she backed away delicately.
Alone with his groom, James shot him a testy glare. “David, you’re doing it again.”
An exasperated sigh escaped David’s lips. “I’m trying to play it cool, James. It’s just that—”
“I want everything to be perfect,” James parroted in unison with the prince.
“Look,” David offered, “I know just where to get rice in the village. All I have to do is ride into town, make a little pitstop, and then we can sweep this whole mishap under the rug.”
“There isn’t time for that!”
“There is if I shortcut through the forest.”
“Are you crazy? Cockshire Wood is huge! You’re going to get yourself lost, David.”
“Not a chance. I know these woods like…well, like I know my own wood.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
“Oh, brother.”
“Don’t you worry,” David said as he took to the stable for his horse. “I’ll be back lickety-split.”
Watching David ride off, James couldn’t help but feel like this was a very bad idea.
* * *
Lo and behold, James turned out to be right. He eyed the afternoon sun sinking lower in the sky. David had been gone for hours.
“That groom of yours sure doesn’t like being on time,” retorted one of the guests, recalling the prince’s tardy entrance at the ball the night before.
All around, increasingly impatient guests did their best to fan away the stifling summer heat. James felt particularly sorry for their groom’s maids, who, despite David’s assurances, had been stuffed into those glorified straightjackets he’d insisted upon for hours now.
He sensed Lady Sugarbottom sidle up to him. “Jay-ames. Your guests are getting antsy. Where. Is. David?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied with a shrug.
Lady Sugarbottom clicked her tongue. “Well, if he isn’t back soon, I’m afraid we’ll have to call this wedding off.”
Just then, as if on cue, a voice hollered in the distance. “I’m here! I’m here!”
Every eye turned to the drawbridge where David was crossing the moat like he had the Knights of the Round Table after him.
“David!” James chastised as his groom dismounted his steed. “What happened? We’ve been waiting for hours.”
David winced sheepishly. “Let’s just say I might need a bit of a geography refresher.”
James released a groan. “Please tell me you at least got that confounded rice you were after.”
A proud smile lit up David’s face. He pulled down a satchel from his horse. “Better late than never, right?” He gave it to the usher to replace that former assault on his sensibilities. “There. Now everything is perfect.”
Which was true.
For a moment.
A panicked voice snatched their attention. “Someone get that groom’s maid some water!”
All the color drained from David’s and James’ faces as they spun around toward the voice. One of their groom’s maids appeared ready to faint at any moment.
And where was she standing?
Right next to the champagne tower.
“Groom’s maid going down!” a voice called as a crowd rushed to her aid.
But they were too late. The next thing David knew, he was watching his groom’s maid collapse into his beautiful, glorious, and highly unstable champagne tower.
“Oh, shit.”
Bubbly rained from the heavens. Throughout the crowd, luminaries from across the land found themselves covered in sweet, sticky vintage.
James couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight.
“Are you seriously laughing right now?” David berated. “James, this is an emergency.”
The cue snapped the usher to attention. “Emergency?!” He looked down at the three cords. “Now, which one do I pull for that?” He furrowed his brow in thought. “Well, here goes nothing.”
He yanked the cord to the right.
The next thing David knew, he was watching in horror as a cannon-ful of rice—his pure, pristine, complete-opposite-of-beige rice—exploded onto the crowd.
“Is this some kind of joke?” cried one of the guests as the blizzard of tiny granules stuck to everyone’s champagne-coated skin.
“Oh, dear,” the usher fretted. “It must be the other one, then.” Panicked, he tugged the cord on the left.
It was a beautiful sight—the flock of doves releasing into the sky.
At least until they took notice of the rice-covered crowd below and went full-on Alfred Hitchcock.
“We’re under attack!” cried another of the guests.
Looking on, David gaped in disbelief. This was supposed to be the most perfect day of his life. And here it had turned into a…a three-ring circus!
“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” the usher cried again. “Well, like they say, third time’s a charm.” He pulled the third and final cord.
Like a SWAT team storming enemy territory, the full force of the royal Cockshire cavalry descended upon the crowd. They appeared from everywhere—over the castle wall, behind the garden topiaries…inside the royal wedding cake.
“Who dares attack our fair castle on such a joyous occasion?” one of the knights boomed as he surveyed the melee. “Have no fear, because help is here!”
Unfortunately, the squadron proved to be the opposite of helpful. Rushing the crowd at full speed, what the well-intentioned but misinformed rescuers neglected to notice was the wet, slippery wedding-champagne-soaked ground.
Like a bowling ball careening toward a set of pins, the knights slipped and slid their way into the crowd.
Sweeping up David and James with the stampede in the process.
“Today was supposed to be perfect!” the prince exclaimed as they, along with the rest of their human runaway train, snowballed across the lawn. “But frankly, I don’t think this day could possibly get any worse!”
“Well, in that case, you might want to think again.” James pointed toward their trajectory.
David felt his heart skip a beat as he followed James’ gesture. Their whole landslide of wedding guests was careening straight for the castle moat.
“Aw, crud.”
Full speed ahead, the entire wedding party, tumbling ass over teakettle, spiraled over the edge of the royal green and splashed with a tidal wave into the castle moat.
“This…this…” David spat a mouthful of water as he tried to stay afloat. “This is unbelievable!”
James surfaced alongside him. “Unbelievable, but also…unforgettable.” He splashed his groom playfully. “Just like you wanted, right?”
The question gave David pause. This was pretty unforgettable, wasn’t it? Maybe not in the way he’d intended, but he had to admit, people wouldn’t stop talking about this wedding anytime soon.
“Is everyone OK?” David asked of the crowd treading water alongside him.
He was met with a quorum of nods, smiles, and thumbs-ups.
The prince furrowed his brow in thought. All around, a hush fell over the audience of the land’s richest, most powerful blue bloods—rice in their crevices, birds in their hair—as they bobbed up and down in the Cockshire Castle moat.
“Well, I guess that settles it, then,” David decided. “Has anyone seen the minister?”
“Present and accounted for,” the clergyman responded.
A smile formed on David’s lips. “Well, in that case, let’s do what we came here do to.”
Before matters could proceed, though, James reached out to take David’s hands. “Are you sure, babe? I thought you wanted this to be perfect?”
David gave his groom a kiss. “It’s like you said. As long as I’m here, and as long as you’re here, then nothing about this day could be anything but perfect.” He turned out to the crowd. “What do you say, everyone? Shall we have ourselves a wedding?”
A resounding cheer issued forth.
Soaked to the bone, rice in his ears, but glowing nonetheless, David gave a nod to the minister. “All right, father, I think that’s your cue.”
* * *
In its own special way, the wedding turned out to be perfect. Had it gone how David had planned? Not exactly, but maybe that was the best thing that could have ever happened.
Treading water, rogue fowl still picking rice from his hair, David had realized something. He’d realized that, in the end, it hadn’t mattered that he didn’t have a stringed quartet or fresh truffles or, God help him, a ten-foot tower of champagne. All that mattered was having James—forever by his side as the two kings of Cockshire.
These were the thoughts that filled David’s mind as, tucked in bed, he drifted off to sleep alongside his lover. Thoughts of peace. Thoughts of happiness.
Thoughts of sheer terror as, without warning, the new king found a blindfold being pulled over his eyes.
Panicking, David writhed against his unseen assailant. “I don’t know what you want, but I’m warning you, my husband is not going to let you get away with it.”
The response came from a familiar voice. “Nice try, but I’m not worried about him.”
David let out a gasp. “James?”
“Not so loud, you’ll wake someone.”
“James! What’s gotten into you?”
“What ought to be the question is, what’s about to get into you?”
A thrill rose inside David’s chest.
“Come on,” James said before his husband could reply. “I have an idea.”
The next thing David knew, he found himself, still blindfolded, being led down a moonlit castle corridor.
“You should know I don’t take kindly to being kidnapped.”
“Somehow, I think you’ll come to forgive me. Ah, here we are. Sit.” He pushed David into a seated position.
“Where are we?” David asked as he attempted to remove his blindfold.
He was immediately intercepted, though, by James. “Does it matter?”
His husband’s coyness was beginning to get on David’s nerves.
It didn’t last long, though. Frustration quickly melted into pleasure as, his pants yanked down to his ankles, David felt the warmth of James’ mouth envelop his unsuspecting shaft.
“Fuuuck,” he moaned softly.
With a pop of suction, James released David’s cock from his lips. “Feel good?”
“I could let you do this for hours.” He sunk into his luxurious seat. “I’m going to have to enjoy this spot, wherever it is, more often.”
The comment drew a smirk on James’ face. “Don’t worry, you will.” He removed his husband’s blindfold.
A mortified gasp escaped David’s lips as he realized where he was. “James, you’re blowing me on the royal throne?!”
“Why not? It belongs to you now.”
“Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean…”
His protests didn’t last long, though. As soon as James returned his mouth to David’s throbbing rod, the new king surrendered with a deep moan of pleasure.
“Sounds like someone likes getting the royal treatment.” Kneeling at David’s feet, James pumped his hand along his husband’s slippery, wet pipe, then promptly dove his mouth back down onto the massive manhood.
Leaning back in his throne, David looked on as his new husband savored his thick, juicy cock. It was a good thing we was sitting down, because the way James sucked, David knew his knees would have buckled below him instantly.
Twirling his talented tongue, James tasted every inch of his king’s hard meat. The pleasure turned David’s breathing ragged as his chest heaved up and down in ecstasy.
“That’s enough of that,” James said. Still on his knees, he pulled David’s hips toward the edge of the throne. “What do you say to getting royally screwed?”
A rush of adrenaline coursed through David at the question. “I say, who ever thought those words could sound so good?”
As fast as he could, James ripped off their remaining clothes. “Fuck, baby, you’re beautiful,” he said as he admired David’s body reclined in his throne.
“You ought to see the view from here.” David stroked his cock as his eyes devoured James’ broad, built, and hairy chest looming over him. “But I’m not here just to look.”
James arched an eyebrow. “Well, you’re the king, after all.” He wet his shaft with spit.
Drawing himself in close, James slapped his raw cock against the entrance to David’s hole. The sensation made him quiver.
“Ready?” James asked. “It might hurt a little, just at first.”
David nodded his understanding. “I can be strong.”
What the new king had failed to anticipate, though, was just how strong he’d have to be. James’ erection was massive. Not even the stolen cucumbers from the kitchen David had practiced on could compare.
“Do you want me to stop?” James asked.
Wincing, David shook his head. “No, no, I want it so bad, James. More than anything I’ve ever wanted before.”
Apparently, the words David spoke were true, because no sooner had they left his mouth than, with a wave of calm, his hole gave James’ appendage a welcome entry.
“Fuuuck,” James moaned as his shaft glided into his husband’s virgin hole. The smooth penetration sent waves of pleasure tingling from his cock’s head, through his shaft, and all the way down to the hilt.
“You’re inside me,” David said in awe. He wrapped his arms around the back of his husband’s neck.
James leaned in with an open-mouthed kiss. Tenderly, he glided his hips back and forth, slowly opening David’s eager and inexperienced hole.
“It feels so good being filled with you.” He ran his fingers through James’ hair.
His husband was ready, James realized, to pick up the pace. Holding David’s waist over the edge of his seat on the throne, James positioned himself directly above his hole. Locking eyes, he thrusted himself back into David. And thrusted. And thrusted.
Bucking his hips, James brought the full force of his weight down on David’s hole. Beneath him, the new king writhed with passion, ecstasy etched across his face.
And although to the two men it felt like mere minutes, their lovemaking lasted into the night. Pounded, pummeled, railed, and used, David’s hole took a beating—and every moment of it was bliss.
“Fuck, baby,” James panted as he plowed David’s hole. “I’m going to…I’m going to…”
“Yes, babe. Give it to me. Give me all your—”
“Uggghhh!”
David felt his husband deposit a thick wad of cream into his hole. The most intimate thing James had to give, given to David in the most intimate way possible.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He began to jerk his cock as James pounded his seed in deeper.
“Fuck, baby, fuck,” David panted. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”
A rope of hot semen shot onto his chest.
“I came.”
He collapsed his head back onto the throne. James leaned in with a kiss. “Is this the happy ending you hoped for?”
David shook his head peacefully. “No,” he said, “because this is only the beginning.”
Scared Stiff, Part 1
A Spicy M/M Horror-Comedy Romance
“Man, does it feel good getting out of the city.” Rolling down his window, Nick sucked in a breath of sixty-mile-an-hour wind from the backseat of Levi and Jamal’s Subaru. “Say, how much further is it ’til we reach the campground?”
The question drew an eye roll from Levi in the passenger seat up front. “We should be there by now, if Grandma here would get the lead out.”
“Hey, would you like to drive?” Jamal countered. “’Cause if that’s what you prefer, then be my guest.”
“Boys, boys, no need to argue,” Nick inserted. “I didn’t mean to set off a lover’s quarrel.”
Levi pecked Jamal on the cheek. “I’m only teasing, babe. Arrive alive, isn’t that what they say?”
Jamal shook his head. “Sometimes I could murder you.”
“This would be your opportunity,” Levi retorted. “Out in the woods…miles from civilization…where no one can hear me scream.”
Jamal let out a scoff. “Don’t give me ideas.”
Leaning forward, Nick stuck his head between the two boyfriends. “Look, guys, I know I’m just the third wheel here, but is it too much to ask that we keep this trip homicide-free?”
The comment drew a laugh from them all. Bro-friends since college, Nick, Levi, and Jamal had shared everything together. Well, almost everything. When the trio had first met, each of them had been, so they thought, hopelessly single. In Levi and Jamal’s case, though, their singlehood was decidedly less hopeless than they’d expected.
Fortunately, the pair’s budding romance hadn’t caused strain on their friendship with Nick. As far as they were concerned, it was still one for all and all for one—just as it always had been.
Yet, that didn’t stop Nick from wondering, just every so often, what kind of activities his best buds got up to when he wasn’t around. There was no denying it—Levi and Jamal were objectively hot. They put in their time at the gym, and it showed. It was impossible not to notice their lean muscle under their shirts. What Nick wouldn’t have given to be a fly on their bedroom wall.
Granted, he wasn’t so hard on the eyes himself. His looks sure hadn’t done anything for him lately, though. Sometimes, he envied what Levi and Jamal shared. Both were serious catches. Perhaps in another life, it could have been him with one of them.
There was no use wishing on dead stars, though. Nick was happy, ultimately, for his two pals. Never in a million years would he think of coming between them.
Lately, though, something about their friendship had felt off. It was hard to put a finger on it, but somehow, the trio felt more distant than before. Nick chalked it up to the busyness of life in the city. All of them had demanding jobs, hectic commutes, annoying neighbors—and over time, it all had begun to take its toll.
A little getaway, just the three of them, was exactly what they needed, which was why Nick had taken it upon himself to plan this excursion. Granted, it had taken some convincing to get Levi and Jamal to go along with it, but with a little arm-twisting, Nick had managed to get them to agree.
Some fresh air, some green trees—it was exactly what they needed to relax, recharge, and get their bro-bond back on track. It would be just like old times. No, it would be better than old times. If Nick got his wish, this would be a trip they’d never forget.
“Hey, look at that sign,” Jamal said. “Devil’s Ridge, five miles. We’re almost there!”
“Thank God,” Levi replied. “This is just what we need. A nice, peaceful, relaxing retreat.”
“Agreed,” Nick chimed in. “This weekend is going to be killer.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a stern voice came over the radio. “We interrupt this program for an urgent news bulletin. Hank Hutchins, alias The Boner Killer, has escaped Rockwell Asylum for the Criminally Insane.”
Nick went rigid. “Rockwell? Isn’t that around here?”
“And what kind of a name is The Boner Killer?” Levi added.
“Shhh,” Jamal chided. “I’m trying to listen.”
“If seen,” the radio announcer continued, “the public is urged to seek safety and call the police with any information.”
“Hank Hutchins,” Levi mused. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
The voice on the radio went on. “The Boner Killer, as he is popularly known, rose to infamy nearly a decade ago with the summer-long slayings of eight young homosexuals.”
“I remember that guy,” Nick blurted. “He had some ax to grind—literally, I guess—with gay dudes. And it was always while they were doing it. One minute, two guys would be going to pound town, and the next, The Boner Killer would show up and hack them into meat scraps.”
“Authorities warn the convict is considered armed and dangerous,” the radio man concluded. “Be advised, this is a developing story. Further reports will be issued as updates become available. In the meantime, all young homosexual men within the tri-state area are urged to exercise extreme caution.”
With that, the radio returned to the sunshine and rainbows of 1990s Britpop. A stunned silence hung between the friends.
“Maybe this camping trip isn’t such a good idea,” Levi finally said.
“Are you kidding me?” Jamal exclaimed. “You know how hard it is for me to get time off work. If we go home now, who knows when we’ll get another chance to do this.”
Levi regarded his boyfriend with disbelief. “Are you seriously telling me you want to go camping in the woods with an escaped ax murderer on the loose? An ax murderer who targets gay guys?”
“I’m sure he won’t hide long,” Jamal replied. “How far’s he gonna go?”
“That’s what worries me—Rockwell is barely a couple miles from here,” Levi countered. He held up a GPS map on his phone.
“Guys, guys,” Nick attempted to mediate. “You both have good points. I have an idea, though, for how we can still go camping and stay perfectly safe.”
Looks of confusion clouded Jamal’s and Levi’s faces.
“It’s simple,” Nick continued. “No sex.”
“Well, if that isn’t the—”
“You heard the radio,” Nick explained. “The Boner Killer only strikes when his victims are in flagrante. All we have to do is simply not give him the opportunity.” He made a faint smirk. “Shouldn’t be a problem for me, but you lovebirds think you can keep it in your pants for the weekend?”
An awkward glance passed between Levi and Jamal.
“He’s got a point,” Levi said.
Jamal released a groan. “Yeah, but doing you-know-what out here was supposed to be half the fun.”
Taking his boyfriend’s hand over the center console, Levi planted it with a kiss. “I know I make you horny, babe. It’s only a weekend, though. Surely, you can keep your hands off me that long.”
“Oh, brother,” Nick retorted from the backseat.
“So, it’s decided, then?” Levi confirmed. “We press on? Go camping as planned?”
“I guess so,” Jamal replied, voice tentative. “So much for safe sex.”
* * *
In short order, the trio arrived at their campsite—the same out-of-the-way spot where they’d camped years ago as college freshmen. A lot had changed since those days—they’d graduated, gotten jobs, and in Jamal and Levi’s case, shacked up together—but being back at Devil’s Ridge, it felt like no time had passed at all.
“I don’t think this place has changed a bit,” Jamal said as he turned off the car.
“Yeah, it’s just like old times,” Nick rejoined.
“Well, almost like old times,” Levi chimed in. He planted a kiss on Jamal’s cheek. “There is one thing that’s changed for the better.”
Nick gagged theatrically. “Get a room, you two.”
“I thought you didn’t want us having sex?” Jamal replied. “We might attract The Boner Killer.” He wiggled his fingers for effect.
Nick only shrugged. “More room in the tent for me.”
Levi wrapped an arm around his pal’s shoulder. “Aww, admit it. You’d miss us, and you know it.”
Nick felt a tingle at Levi’s touch. A tingle that somehow found its way between his legs.
“Well, of course, dummy,” he said. “You know I love you like a brother.” He averted his eyes. Was that how he loved Levi? He shook himself out of it. Sure, it was a fun fantasy, imagining what it could be like…if they were more. But a fantasy it would have to remain. As much as Nick yearned to know what was under the alluring couple’s clothes, he knew he’d have to leave it to his imagination. After all, they were bros. And that was a line he wouldn’t—couldn’t—cross.
“How about I go gather some firewood?” he proposed.
Jamal cocked his head at the suggestion. “By yourself?”
“Why not?” Nick asked. “Afraid The Boner Killer is going to get me?”
“Hey, don’t joke about that,” Levi said. “I don’t know what we’d do if something happened to you.” He squeezed his arm tighter around his bud.
Fighting his desires, Nick pulled himself away. “I’ll be fine. It’ll give you two a chance to suck each other’s faces or whatever you do when I’m not around.”
Coming up from behind, Jamal wrapped his arms around Levi. “In that case, you’d better take your time.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
Nick shook his head in spite of himself. “Kill me now, please.”
It wasn’t until later that he’d come to regret those words.
* * *
As Nick wandered to gather their firewood, he also let his mind wander to gather his thoughts. Collecting timber would have probably worked better as a group activity, but truth be told, he knew he needed some time alone.
Why had he gotten such a funny feeling from Levi when they’d arrived? Could it have just been in his head?
Physical touch had never been an issue between the trio. But it had always been a friendly punch on the arm, a good-natured slap on the ass. The way Levi had wrapped his arm around Nick, though, the way he’d squeezed him tight, it was, well, something about it felt different.
He knelt to pick up a fallen branch. Don’t get carried away, Nick, he reminded himself. Levi and Jamal are off the market, which means they’re off-limits.
That didn’t stop him from imagining, though, what he wished he could do with his two best buds. He’d never mentioned it, but Nick was aware of their…endowment. Between movie nights on the couch and workouts at the gym, he’d seen them in sweatpants enough times to know the pair were packing.
He’d start off, he fantasized, by undressing them slowly, one at a time so they each could enjoy the view. Then, he’d massage their cocks, showing his buds how much he cared for them. Gradually, he’d move on to worshipping those dicks with his mouth, tasting them both at once on the tip of his tongue.
He suddenly became aware of a firmness below his belt. What are you thinking, Nick? These guys are your friends, not your fuck buddies. Get a grip, will you?
Despite his self-admonitions, though, he still couldn’t wipe the lurid images from his mind. What he needed was a distraction.
Which, it turned out, was precisely what he got.
“Who’s there?” he called out to the rustling leaves through the trees.
Heart pounding, he waited for a response. The leaves had gone silent.
“I know you can hear me,” Nick continued, doing his best to sound tough.
He swallowed a gulp. Maybe they should have gone back home.
Could The Boner Killer really be out here? The thought sent a shiver though his system. He wondered how far he’d ventured away from camp. Maybe if he made a run for it now, he could make it back before The Boner Killer turned him into mincemeat.
The question was, how exactly did he get back to camp from here? He spun himself around. Everything looked the same out here in the forest. He was just as likely to lose himself deeper in the woods as find his way back to Levi and Jamal.
All it took, though, was for the leaves to rustle once again to convince Nick that he far preferred his odds against his navigational skills than against The Boner Killer. He took off with a dash.
And did a full-speed faceplant into the ground, courtesy of an exposed but tragically unseen tree root.
The rustling leaves grew louder behind him. He could sense it now. The end was near. He was about to become the latest victim of The Boner Killer.
“Hey, man. You OK?”
He spun around to face the voice.
And beheld the most beautiful man his eyes had ever seen.
“Uh, hi.”
The Adonis extended an arm to help Nick to his feet. “Man, you took off fast.”
Reeling, Nick shook his head clear. He’d certainly never been knocked off his feet quite like this before.
But judging by his visitor’s appearance, this was far from the first time he’d had that effect on someone.
Nick licked his lips sensually. The stranger was like the Brawny man come to life—red flannel and all. One notable alteration, though, came in the hunk’s cutoff sleeves, exposing two beefy arms that were truly fit for a lumberjack.
On his face, the stranger wore a thick but well-groomed beard. Even under his dense facial hair, it was clear this man had a jawline that could probably draw blood.
The image shook Nick back to reality. “Sorry, I thought you were…”
The hunk arched an eyebrow. “Thought I was who?”
But Nick was embarrassed enough. “Never mind. Clearly, I was mistaken.” He held out his hand. “The name’s Nick.”
The stranger shook with him good-naturedly. “Hi, Nick. I’m Ha—Henry.”
A puzzled look clouded Nick’s face. “Ha-Henry?”
“Sorry,” the heartthrob clarified. “Henry. Just Henry.”
A smile spread on Nick’s face. “Well, just Henry, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
It took all Nick’s willpower not to break eye contact with his new acquaintance. The sight of the handsome stranger’s broad, rippling shoulders leading down to his narrow hips was almost too much to resist.
“What are you doing out here?” Henry asked.
Nick began to stammer as, dumbstruck, he tried to recall the reason himself. “I’m, uh, collecting firewood.”
Henry tossed a chuckle. “Well, you’re certainly not going to get far like that.”
“Like what?”
The dreamboat smirked playfully. “What you need is the right equipment.”
A sudden spike in heart rate hit Nick head-on. Was this hunky woodsman flirting with him?
Before he could entertain the thought further, though, Henry pulled out an ax from behind a nearby tree.
A disappointed sigh escaped Nick’s lips. “Oh, that’s what you meant.”
The comment drew a puzzled side-eye from Henry.
“Never mind,” Nick said. “Thanks.” He picked up the ax and prepared to take a swing at a sapling.
Henry waved his arms urgently. “Hold up there, tiger. You do it like that, you’re liable to lop someone’s head off.”
Nick froze in place. “I guess one guy doing that out here’s enough, huh?” He forced a self-conscious laugh.
It appeared, though, his joke had been lost on his new companion. Confused, Henry only cocked his head.
You idiot, Nick cursed himself. Of all times to bring up an ax murderer. Talk about killing the mood.
“Never mind.”
Henry shrugged it off. “You say that a lot, you know that? Here, how about I give you a hand.”
You can give me anything you want, is what Nick wanted to say. Instead, he replied, “That would be lovely.”
And lovely it was. The next thing Nick knew, he was watching Henry peel off that pesky flannel of his. Even after seeing the sexy mountain man’s arms, Nick was still unprepared for what lay underneath his shirt. Henry had a bear chest that could rival a grizzly.
He stationed himself behind Nick. “Is it OK if I touch you?”
Nick felt like a thousand butterflies had just been released inside his stomach. Was it OK? Does a bear shit in the woods?
He cleared his throat calmly. “Yes.”
Reaching around from his position behind Nick, Henry wrapped his arms over the novice woodcutter. His touch sent a bolt of electricity through Nick’s system. It was all he could do to wonder what selfless deed he must have done in a former life to be so lucky right now.
Holding Nick’s forearms as he held the ax, Henry guided his apprentice’s movements. His grip was firm, assured, in control. The next thing Nick knew, he was struggling not to melt into the masculine embrace.
Henry ran his hands slowly over Nick’s, adjusting his grip on the ax. “It’s all in the wrist,” he said into Nick’s ear.
Nick took a swing at the tree.
And barely made a dent.
Henry chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Did I say wrist? I meant to say it’s all in the hips.” He bucked his pelvis against Nick’s hind end.
With a powerful swing, Nick drove the ax into the tree, collapsing it to the ground.
Henry flashed a smile. “I knew you just needed a little encouragement.”
Nick felt his cheeks turn red. “How about that?”
The dreamboat took a step back. “Think you can handle it from here?”
A wave of worry surged inside Nick. He couldn’t let this end now. Who knew when he’d see this Greek god again? “Do you really have to go so soon?”
Henry smiled knowingly. “Well, I suppose I could stick around a little while.”
Just then, a familiar voice beckoned in the distance. “Nick, you out there?”
The smile evaporated from Henry’s face. “Who’s that?”
Nick perked up at the sound of his friend calling out to him. “It’s cool. That’s just Jamal.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Jamal! Over here!”
But the worry remained etched on Henry’s face. “I’d better head out.”
“What?” Nick protested in disbelief. “Don’t be silly. You’re going to love Jamal.” He headed off toward his friend’s voice. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Not two minutes had passed when Nick returned with Jamal. The mysterious mountain man was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
“I don’t get it,” Levi said once he’d heard Nick’s tale back at camp. “Some sexy, muscle-bound lumberjack god comes out of nowhere just to disappear without a trace? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I think Nicky here’s making it up,” Jamal said.
“Sounds to me like somebody’s jealous,” Levi teased.
“Jealous?” Jamal exclaimed, incredulous. “Why would I be jealous?”
A wry grin twisted Levi’s face. “Tell me…what were you doing following Nick into the woods, anyway?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jamal protested, picking up on his boyfriend’s implication. “Nick is our bro.”
Levi shrugged puckishly. “So?”
Jamal rolled his eyes. “Are you on something right now?”
“I’m just kidding,” Levi continued. “As if Nick would actually let you fuck him.” He tossed an inscrutable side-eye at their bro.
The image spurred a flutter in Nick’s chest, which he promptly suppressed before he got carried away. “I’m telling you, guys. I’m not making this up!”
“Come on, Nick,” countered Jamal. “If you really met this hunk, then what was he doing alone in the woods?”
Nick furrowed his brow at the question. “Come to think of it, he didn’t say.”
“Convenient,” Jamal retorted.
Levi took the opportunity to chime in again. “You know, there is one reason that would explain why your mystery man was alone in the woods.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Don’t say it.”
“Because he’s The Boner Killer!” Levi faked an attack on his friend.
Laughing, Nick braced himself against the ambush. “Get real, guys. You should have seen this dude. He was smoking.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Levi pointed out. “Ax murderers can be good-looking.”
“Makes it easier to lure their victims.” Jamal drew a line across his throat with his forefinger.
Nick only groaned. “Well, ax murderer or not, he did help me chop this firewood.” He motioned to the glowing bonfire at their feet.
“A killer with a heart of gold,” Jamal quipped. He cast his eyes at the glowing flame. “I’m sorry, man. You know we’re only joking.” He gave his bro a jovial punch in the arm.
Nick rubbed the area gingerly. “I guess it’s easy to joke about finding your dream man when you’ve already got him.”
“I suppose I am rather dreamy, aren’t I?” Levi teased.
Jamal frowned as he realized he’d hit Nick’s sore spot. “Chin up, dude. Mister Right’s out there somewhere. Just give it time.”
“But for now,” Levi inserted as he inserted himself between the two, “you’re stuck with us!” He wrapped his arms around his pals.
Nick felt a glow at his bud’s embrace. Sure, Levi and Jamal gave him shit sometimes, but it was always in good fun. He couldn’t imagine life without them. Even once he did finally find a boyfriend, he hoped he’d always stay close with his two best mates.
“You know what this calls for?” Jamal decided. “I say we crack out the brewskies.”
The idea was met unobjected. Thus adjourned, the trio settled into their seats around the fire, a cold six-pack split between them.
“You know what you need?” Levi mused as he took his first swig. “A good fuck.”
Nick nearly spit out his beer at the remark. “Excuse me?”
“Everyone knows nothing cures a lonely heart like a big, fat cock,” Levi continued, brazen. He elbowed his boyfriend in the ribs. “Hey Jamal, maybe you could help him out!”
“Very funny,” Jamal retorted.
Nick knew Levi was only joking, but still, the suggestion sent a surge of blood flowing between his legs. He supposed camping was always a bonding experience, but something about this trip seemed to be bringing them all particularly close.
Could it have been that maybe Levi and Jamal shared his curiosity? His desire for something…more? Levi sure had been hands-on with him lately, and Jamal seemed to be chummier than usual, too.
He took a swig of beer. Nah, just wishful thinking, he decided. Now, try listening to your head instead of your dick. Levi and Jamal are your bros. Don’t spoil it by making things weird.
His eyes drifted to Levi’s fingers across the firepit. Levi’s fingers that had just been wrapped around his shoulders. Levi’s fingers that he wished could be wrapped around another of his body parts.
Judging by the way he gave hugs, it was clear Levi had a grip that could really come in handy.
* * *
Nick wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he awoke. He eyed the final embers still holding out in the firepit, though, and realized he must have been under for at least a couple hours. He surveyed the crushed beer cans littered around them. Had they really drank all that? Whoopsie.
Oh, well, he decided. They were on vacation, weren’t they?
Standing to his feet, he briefly lost his balance.
“Note to self,” he said, “still a little drunk. Great.”
He rubbed his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Across the firepit, Jamal was still passed out, beer in hand.
But where was Levi? Perhaps he’d gone back to the tent? Nick shook his head. No, not with Jamal still out here. Surely, he would have brought his boyfriend with him to bed.
A rustle sounded in the trees then. Nick spun around with a start. “Levi?”
But no response came.
“Come on, Levi. You shouldn’t be out alone after dark.”
Still, there was no reply.
Nick gulped as a realization set in. What if it wasn’t Levi out there? What if it was someone…else?
He shook the thought away. Don’t be silly, Nick. Besides, The Boner Killer only comes during sex.
He smirked at the pun he’d just made in his head. The effort, though, did little to ease his mind.
The rustle sounded again. Louder.
“If this is some kind of joke, Levi…”
But he was met only with crickets.
“Levi, cut it out, man.”
The rustle sounded its loudest yet. Whatever was causing it, it was just beyond the edge of their campsite.
Nick held his breath as the rustle reached the threshold and out burst…
A chipmunk.
Startled, Nick fell backward like he’d just laid eyes on Bigfoot.
“Goddamnit,” he muttered to himself.
The gaffe proved to be a stroke of luck, though, for it was down on the ground that Nick spotted a telling sign.
A footprint. Levi’s footprint. He could tell by the tread without a doubt. A frown twisted his face as he tracked the prints to the edge of the trees.
Why would Levi go out in the forest alone? Didn’t he know it was dangerous to go traipsing alone in the woods at night? He could run into a bear…or worse.
He had to check on him. No one hacked up his bud on his watch.
And hopefully, no one would hack up him.
He set off into the trees.
* * *
To Nick’s chagrin, Levi’s tracks quickly disappeared once he’d ventured beyond their campsite. And without a trail to follow, it was anyone’s guess where the missing bro had wandered.
Lucky for you we’re pals, Nick thought as he trudged through the bug-ridden underbrush. I’ve got half a mind to turn back now and let you fend for yourself.
He knew he didn’t mean it, though. If anything happened to his bud, Nick wasn’t sure he’d ever get over it. Unfortunately, good intentions didn’t change the fact that he still hadn’t a clue where to look.
Too bad Henry’s not around, he thought to himself. A hardy woodsman would probably be able to find Levi in no time.
He shook himself out of it. Come on, Nick. You’ll find him. How far could he have gone?
Truth be told, though, what really worried Nick was how far Levi could have been taken. He suddenly found himself regretting his suggestion that they could stay safe from The Boner Killer so long as they abstained from sex. Sure, sodomitic homicide was the ax man’s specialty, but he’d been locked up for the past decade. Nick could only imagine that after that long behind bars, The Boner Killer’s bloodthirst wasn’t likely to be especially picky.
His mind wandered back to earlier that evening. Just the three of them, bros around the campfire, with nothing but some beers and each other for entertainment. He could spend every night like that. Maybe it sounded corny, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to deny—Levi and Jamal were all he needed. If anything happened to either of them, it would be his fault for downplaying the risk of this trip.
It was just that, with how busy life had gotten lately back in the city, he knew it was only a matter of time until they drifted apart for good. He’d wanted so badly for this camping trip to bring them all back together like old times, rekindle their bro-bond before it was too late.
Only now, he feared he’d be too late, after all.
Don’t think like that, Nick told himself as he pressed on through the thickets. Who’s to say Levi’s even in danger? For all you know, he’s having himself a nice little evening. Here you are spiraling into a panic attack, and he’s probably stargazing or some shit.
“Mmmfff…nnnhhh…”
The voice stopped Nick in his tracks. Levi! Only he sure didn’t sound like he was stargazing. Judging by his moans, it sounded like he was in trouble!
Nick stopped himself before calling out. If Levi’d had a run-in with The Boner Killer, chances were the convict was still nearby. He’d have to keep a low profile.
Slowly, he let his bro’s muffled voice guide the way. His mind ran wild with his worst fears. What if Levi was hurt? What if he was bleeding out? What if he…
Was slapping ham?!
Mortified, Nick spun away, his cheeks burning bright. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. He’d just caught his bro, one of his best buds in the world, in a moment he knew few, if any, other dudes had ever seen him in before.
Well, at least he was safe.
He prepared to turn back to camp, but somehow, his feet had turned to lead. He’d only laid eyes on the scene for an instant, but even so, the image of Levi pleasuring himself had been burned into Nick’s mind. And he had to admit, it was not a bad view.
God, Nick, get your mind out of the gutter. Levi’s your bro. Bros don’t spy on each other jacking off. Besides, what if he catches you?
“Mmm yeahhh…”
OK, he was willing to risk it.
Turning back around slowly, he hid himself where he could take in the show. Deep down, a part of him felt guilty for being a peeping Tom, but he’d find a way to make it up to Levi. For now, this was an opportunity he couldn’t resist.
The moonlight glistened against Levi’s flesh as he leaned in repose against a tree trunk. Shirtless, pants unbuttoned, he held his manhood one-handed, the other hand raised behind his head.
Nick licked his lips. Sure, he’d always known his bro was hung, but Levi’s pipe was a behemoth. Just the sight of the hard, veiny cock made his mouth water.
A swelling sensation began to fill Nick’s crotch. Dare he whip out his equipment, too?
Easy, man, he decided. You’re playing with fire as it is.
And this fire was H-O-T hot.
He refocused on Levi. His bro was clearly in no rush. He was here to enjoy himself, take his time. Who knew Levi had such a sensual side?
Another low moan escaped his lips. Nick wished he could get closer, see the performance in full detail. But he didn’t dare. Tonight, he’d have to admire from afar.
God, Levi’s body was beautiful. His built chest, his slim hips…his massive package.
Wet with spit, Levi’s shaft twitched as he slid his grip along its length. Head to hilt he stroked, his hand gliding smoothly along every inch of his sloppy member.
He lowered his free hand and began exploring his body. Starting at the neck, he made his way across his chest and down his torso, caressing himself seductively.
Gradually, Levi found his way to his nipples. He twisted them slowly, his face twisting gleefully in response.
So, my bro’s into nipple play? Nick thought to himself. He imagined what Levi’s nipples would taste like. What he wouldn’t have given to kiss those plump, tempting pecs.
His erection, now undeniably full-blown, became painful in his shorts. Shit, now he had to whip it out.
Careful not to make noise, he unzipped his shorts. Thus freed, his hard cock sprung out eagerly.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said to himself.
Dropping a wad of spit into his hand, Nick wrapped his fingers around his meat. The touch of his hand on his girth nearly made him jump. He didn’t think his cock had ever been this sensitive. Apparently, his bro turned him on more than he realized.
“Who’s there?” Levi called out suddenly. He rebuttoned his pants.
Nick froze, well, stiff. Fuck, he’d been caught. Frantic, he tried to stuff his cock back into his shorts.
“Jamal?” Levi called out to the darkness. “Is that you?”
Shit, Nick panicked as his dick refused to cooperate. Of all times to be hard as a rock.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Levi continued. “It’s kind of hot that you were watching me.”
Think soft, think soft, think soft, think soft.
Levi’s voice grew nearer. “You know, if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you help me out.”
Too bad Nick was feeling anything but lucky right now. Try as he might, his rod refused to return to its confinement inside his shorts.
“Come on, Jamal, enough’s enough.”
And then, Levi’s voice paused. “Whoa…”
Nick didn’t think he’d ever seen a pair of eyes go so wide so fast.
“Nick!”
He shrugged sheepishly. “Hehe, hi, bro.”
“Were you watching this whole time?”
“I’m sorry, Levi.”
The air between them went silent. Fuck, Nick, he cursed himself. You knew this was a bad idea. Now look what happened.
He wished he could go back. The moment he realized what Levi was doing, he should have turned and walked away. But what had he done instead? He spied—fucking spied—on his best bud jerking his cock.
His big, fat, delicious…
God, Nick, don’t you ever quit? Levi’s your bro. And he has a boyfriend. You’ve probably just ruined your friendship with both of them.
Why had he needed to get so carried away? Things had been just fine the way they were—three buds having a simple weekend in the woods. Sure, the friend zone wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be with Levi and Jamal, but it was better than nothing. He just hadn’t been able to help himself, though, and now, thanks to his pushing, he’d utterly spoiled everything.
He wished Levi would say something. Whatever words he had for Nick couldn’t possibly have been worse than his silence.
Finally, Levi did speak. “So, uh, you like what you saw?”
Nick thought he must have been hearing things. “Sorry, it sounded like you just asked—”
“I did.”
Now it was Nick’s turn to fall speechless.
“Because I certainly like what I’m seeing.” Levi’s eyes fell to Nick’s boner protruding from the bushes.
Blushing, Nick threw his hands over his crotch.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Levi assured. He licked his lips hungrily. “Trust me, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Huddled in the bushes, caught quite literally with his pants down, Nick couldn’t believe the words coming out of his bro’s mouth. Levi should have been furious with him right now, or at the very least, seriously weirded out. But instead, he was…turned on?
What alternate universe have I stepped into?
“I shouldn’t have been spying on you.”
Levi waved his hand dismissively. “Aww, you don’t think I’m worried about that, do you?” He inched in closer. “We’re bros, Nick.”
Nick leaned away nervously. “Exactly.”
Still, Levi continued to advance. “You never answered my question, you know. Did you like what you saw?” He gripped his crotch through his shorts for emphasis.
A million thoughts raced through Nick’s head. Of course, he liked what he’d seen. Why else would he have been spying from the bushes? His bro-crush fantasy, though, was just that—a fantasy, a daydream to pass the time.
Or so he’d thought.
“So what if I did like it?”
Levi shrugged coyly. “I was just thinking…maybe you’d like a turn handling the merchandise.”
The remark shot a bolt of electricity into Nick’s system. Was this actually happening right now?
“But what about Jamal?”
“Don’t worry, bro, we’re open.” Nick folded his arms. “What’s your next excuse?”
Nick bit his lip. “OK, fine. What if we attract”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“The Boner Killer?”
Levi rolled his eyes. “If you ask me, I say you’re just scared.” He poked his bud playfully in the chest.
That did it. No one, least of all Nick’s bro, was going to get the best of him.
Well, not unless they asked for it nicely.
He sized up Levi before him. Those sparkling eyes, that hard-set jaw, those tender lips—they’d filled Nick’s fantasies for years. And now, Levi wanted to make all those dreams come true.
But was Nick sure he wanted to do this? After all, once he crossed this line with his bro, there’d be no going back. Was he really prepared to transform their friendship forever?
He uncovered his hands from his cock. “All right, bro. Let’s see what you got.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Scared Stiff, Part 2
A Spicy M/M Horror-Comedy Romance
How in hell did I get myself into this? Standing under a sycamore, eyes locked with Levi’s, hard cock jutting out from his shorts, Nick felt like he’d entered The Twilight Zone. That, or maybe the set of a porno.
He took a mental inventory of what he’d learned so far this evening: (1) that the sexual tension between Levi and himself had in fact not been just his imagination; (2) that, clearly, his moral qualms surrounding his voyeurism toward his bro had been emphatically misplaced; and (3) that, although perhaps not in the way he’d expected, this was indeed shaping up to be a camping trip they’d truly never forget.
“So, uh, how exactly do we do this?” Nick’s voice was shaky. It wasn’t exactly like there was a playbook for losing your bro-ginity.
Levi placed a calming hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Well, first things first.” He lowered his eyes to his shorts, barely containing the bulge he’d rebuttoned inside.
Nick’s breath hitched at the sight of the package waiting to be opened. Apparently, he was going to get that close-up view, after all.
There was no need to rush, though. If he was going to take this plunge with his bro, then he was going to make the most of it.
He reached his hand out slowly and brushed his fingertips against the cotton of Levi’s shorts. One thin layer of fabric. It was all that separated him from his bro’s magnificent cock.
Gently, he ran his thumb and forefinger along the length of Levi’s shaft. Even through his shorts, Nick could feel Levi’s member twitch. He felt his heart rate spike. Clearly, his bro wanted this just as much as he did.
“How’s that feel?” Nick asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Unbelievable,” was Levi’s blissful reply.
Nick had to agree, this whole experience was decidedly hard to believe. Levi and he had practically grown up together. Puberty, prom—they’d been through everything by each other’s sides. Had someone tried to tell him that one day, he’d find himself about to swap handies with his best bud, he’d have laughed them into next Tuesday.
Yet, here he was, out in the woods, making his bro moan as he gripped his hard-on through his shorts.
Life comes at you fast, he thought to himself.
“You wanna take it out?” Levi asked, eyes filled with lust.
Nick licked his lips hungrily. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Unbuttoning Levi’s shorts, Nick felt like he was discovering long-lost treasure. His heart raced as the first tufts of his bro’s pubic hair came into view. Slowly, he lowered Levi’s zipper, the fly parting open to reveal more and more of Levi’s bush. His own cock pulsed as adrenaline coursed through his veins.
Wow, he thought to himself, why did we ever wait so long to do this?
It was in that moment that he paused. Just above Levi’s zipper, peeking out between his fly, was the base of his rock-hard dick.
The sight of it, just a tease of the manhood awaiting Nick, sent a thrill throughout his system. Fuck, this was going to be hot.
Self-control abandoned, he ripped Levi’s zipper the rest of the way down, allowing his bro’s erection to spring out from confinement.
“Fuck, dude.” He felt himself begin to salivate.
Levi’s pipe stood at attention, tall and proud and with all the stiffness of steel. Its uncut head faced straight up at Nick.
“Bro,” Nick said, breathless, “that’s…”
“Yours isn’t so bad, either,” Levi replied with a wink. He reached out to grip Nick’s erection.
“Oh, fuck,” Nick sighed at the touch of his bro’s hand on his tool. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”
“Yeah, pretty wild, right?”
Levi milked his bud’s cock slowly, sensually. He played with different directions, different pressures. Nick came to realize that his bro clearly enjoyed giving pleasure to others every bit as much as he enjoyed giving it to himself.
Exhaling, he leaned back against the tree trunk to let Levi work his magic. Everything about it was, objectively speaking, phenomenal, but the fact that it was being done to Nick by his bro made it all the more mind-blowing.
“Hold up,” he said. He was reaching danger zone, and he was not about to let Levi get him off without getting his hands on that mammoth cock of his first.
And though Levi wanted nothing more than to continue stroking Nick, he was also nothing if not a gentleman. He relented as instructed.
Their roles reversed, Nick wrapped his hand firmly around Levi’s pipe—well, around insofar as his fingers could reach. Levi had a cock that was truly king-size.
Unhurried, he explored the contours of his bro’s erection—the upward curve of the shaft, the full-blooded pulsating of the veins, the precum already leaking out from the head.
“Is this what you imagined while you were watching me?” Levi’s voice was soft, sultry.
The question, though, was lost on Nick. Dickmatized, he hefted the weight of his bro’s member in his grip.
“If you think I’m big, just wait ’til you see Jamal.”
Nick did a double take at the comment. Jamal? The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. Not that he was opposed—quite the opposite, in fact. But he hadn’t even thought through where this encounter was going, much less the possibility of future sessions. In truth, he’d expected this to be more of a one-and-done sort of deal—a crazy, hormone-fueled lapse in judgment that they’d one day look back on and laugh about. The notion of becoming full-time fuck buddies with his pals was a whole other level.
“Let’s just take it one step at a time.” With that, he began pumping Levi’s length up and down. A surge filled his chest as he watched his bro’s breath become ragged.
“Fuck,” Levi said between moans, “you…do…uggh…good work.”
Nick smiled faintly as he clocked the bliss on his bro’s face.
Eyes closed in ecstasy, Levi groped out blindly for the familiar shape of Nick’s cock. Noticing his bro’s struggle, Nick used his free hand to guide Levi’s fingers back to his pipe.
Levi took hold of it lustfully. He began to pump with zeal.
Lowering his gaze, Nick took in the sight of the mutual pleasure being exchanged between the two. Two bros. Two hands. Two rock-hard cocks.
“I could do this all night,” Nick managed to say over the pleasure radiating from his rod.
“Have I made you forget your dreamy lumberjack, then?” Levi arched a mischievous eyebrow.
“Who needs him when I’ve got you, bro?”
The reply gave Levi a smile. “Hell yeah, bro.” Holding Nick by his dick, he pulled his bud in closer. “Here, I’ve got an idea I think you’re going to like.” He sidled Nick’s manhood up against his own.
Instantly, a tremble shot up from Nick’s toes. This was Levi like he’d never felt him before.
Two-handed, Levi enclosed their cocks together in his grasp—Nick’s head against Levi’s hilt, Levi’s hilt against Nick’s head, the lengths of their shafts pressed firmly against each other.
“Fuck,” Nick sighed, “I guess this is about as close as two bros can be.”
Instinctively, Levi started bucking his hips, pressing the tip of his cock against Nick’s groin. “You definitely need to try this with Jamal,” he said. “I think a little quality bro-time would be good for him.”
Nick was just about to respond when he suddenly found himself distracted by an alarming noise in the distance. The distinct rustle of footsteps through the trees.
“Did you hear that?”
Levi paused his stroking. “Hear what?”
Furrowing his brow, Nick listened in close to the hum of the forest. “I don’t think we’re alone.”
A devilish grin flashed on Levi’s face. “Perhaps Jamal decided he didn’t want to miss all the fun.”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t think so. It sounded…menacing.”
The remark drew an eyeroll from Levi. “Please don’t say it.”
“I’m serious, Levi. Aren’t you even a little concerned? What if it’s”—he lowered his voice—“The Boner Killer?”
Levi released a groan. “Relax, Nick. You’re just being paranoid.” He dropped his glance to their junk. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips. “Well, I didn’t mean to get that relaxed.”
Nick followed Levi’s gaze and groaned. He’d completely lost his erection. “I guess that’s why they call him The Boner Killer.” He began to pull his shorts back up.
“Not so fast,” Levi intervened. “I’m not through with you yet.” He gave his bro a good-natured pat on the cheek. “I gotta take a piss. Just be a minute. In the meantime, why don’t you work on getting yourself back to full mast?”
He was just about to depart for the bushes when Nick grabbed him by the shoulder. “Let me come with you.”
Levi shook Nick’s hand away. “Sorry, bro, watersports aren’t my thing.”
“Very funny. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Don’t be such a worry wart. The Boner Killer must be miles away by now. You just focus on getting that cock hard again like it’s supposed to be. I’ll be back before you know it.”
And with that, Nick watched his bro disappear into the trees.
* * *
Alone, Nick felt like a wave that had just crashed into the shore. Holy fuck, what had just happened? What was still about to happen?
He shook off—or rather, tried to shake off—the fog still lingering in his brain. Here he was, alone in the woods with his bro, rubbing their dicks together in what Nick had to admit was quite possibly the hottest sexual experience of his life.
He rubbed his temples as if he felt a headache coming on. Did he mention that Levi was his bro?
The weirdest part of all? He liked it. Every bit of it. It was almost like getting to know Levi all over again. The way his body writhed as Nick stroked. The way his scent peaked with his sweat. The way his teeth pressed into his lower lip as he released moans of passion.
“I see we’re awake again.” Nick smirked at his rock-hard cock.
He furrowed his brow in thought. Maybe this could work. Sure, it would take some getting used to—the whole friends-to-fuck-buddies thing—but why not give it a go?
Because this could all go up in flames, said a little voice in his head.
A heavy breath escaped him. Levi and Jamal were his best friends. What if sex ruined the magic they had?
But then again, what if sex made the magic even better?
He turned over Levi’s proposition in his mind—his proposal that Nick take a turn with Jamal. It sounded incredible. The trouble was, what if Jamal didn’t want Nick…like that? The embarrassment would be enough to kill them both.
He turned his head to the sky. What can of worms had he just opened?
He’d have to figure that out later, though. Just then, a scream in the distance shook him back to reality. It turned his blood cold. He’d know that voice anywhere.
“Levi!”
He took off into the trees.
* * *
Blood pumping, now for an entirely different reason than before, Nick beat a path through the forest. Goddamnit, he cursed in his head, I knew I shouldn’t have let him go off alone.
He weaved through the evergreen jungle, his visibility next to nothing. Even if he had been able to see through the branches, the moonless night had plunged the woods into darkness.
Levi. His bro. In danger.
This wasn’t like the muffled moans Nick had heard earlier. This was unmistakable. This was the work of The Boner Killer.
God, had they been stupid. Jacking off together with a known homicidal pervert on the loose? It was like they wanted to get rubbed out—and not in the fun way, either.
He picked up his pace as he pushed through the trees. The difference between life and death—it could all come down to a matter of seconds.
A sudden pang of fear hit him then. Assuming he did locate Levi and his captor before it was too late, just what exactly did he plan to do?
He’d better figure it out quick, he realized. A pair of footsteps was approaching.
His throat turned to sandpaper as he tried to swallow a gulp. So, this was how it would end. Just him, the forest, and a sexually frustrated lunatic.
He braced himself as a pair of hands parted the trees.
“Jamal?” Nick’s jaw practically hit the ground.
“Did you hear that scream?” Jamal asked, out of breath from running. “It sounded like Levi.”
A wave of relief washed over Nick at not having just met his demise. “I did hear it.” He paused to consider his words. “Jamal, I think Levi’s been taken by The Boner Killer.”
Confusion clouded Jamal’s face. “What? I thought that guy just came around when dudes were, you know, doing it?”
Nick pulled at his collar nervously. “Slow day for business, I guess?” He wasn’t about to cross this bridge with Jamal until they had Levi back safe.
His bro shrugged, accepting. “I guess. Say, how did you get out here so fast?”
“Uh, how did I get here so fast?” Nick repeated through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, you’re not even short of breath.”
Fuck, Nick swore in his head. How was he going to explain this? “Guess my days in track must’ve paid off.”
“Apparently,” Jamal replied.
Nick narrowed his eyes as he tried to assess his bud. Jamal couldn’t possibly have known about him and Levi. Even Nick himself could still barely believe that he and his bro had just been dick-to-dick. There was no reason, he told himself, for Jamal to be suspicious.
So why, then, was Nick having such a hard time getting a read on his bro?
“Come on,” Jamal said, snapping Nick out of his daze. “We need to split up.”
“Are you kidding?” Nick blurted in disbelief. “Split up with a killer out here?”
“We can cover more ground that way,” Jamal maintained. “Now is not the time to chicken out, Nick. Our bro—and my boyfriend, I might add—needs us.”
Nick nodded soberly. He knew Jamal was right. Since the beginning, the trio had always been one for all, and all for one. Nothing—not even his newfound sexual awakening with Levi—would change their sacred bro-bond.
“Count me in.”
Jamal held out his hand for a fist bump. “Let’s bring back our bro.”
With that, the pair set off in their respective directions. Nick could only hope he wouldn’t come to regret this.
* * *
A sense of déjà vu came over Nick as he found himself, for what was now the third time that night, running full-tilt across the forest.
“Levi?” he whispered into the dark so as not to alert the ax man. “Levi, you out here?”
But the only response that came was the sound of crickets—literally.
Man, that had been a close one with Jamal. Doesn’t The Boner Killer only target guys when they’re doing it? How did you get out here so fast? Nick had nearly been as good as busted—and again, not in the fun way.
He still felt like a tool for lying to Jamal. Jamal was every bit as much Nick’s bro as Levi—which meant he deserved Nick’s loyalty as much as Levi, too.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong. Provided that Levi had indeed been honest about his open relationship with Jamal—and Nick certainly didn’t have reason to doubt him—then there was nothing to feel guilty about.
Well, maybe one thing.
The Boner Killer had only taken Levi because he’d been doing it with Nick. Levi had only been doing it with Nick because he’d insisted Nick do it with him. Levi had only insisted Nick do it with him because he’d caught Nick watching him do it to himself. And the only reason Levi had caught Nick watching him do it to himself was because Nick was an idiot for ever watching him in the first place.
It was his fault this had happened to Levi.
Well, Nick, you really blew it this time.
And one more time, not in the fun way.
He wondered how Jamal was faring. Hopefully, better than himself. Nick still wasn’t crazy about this whole splitting up thing. All he could say was, Jamal had better have been right about covering more ground. When it came to wandering through the woods amongst homicidal maniacs, Nick was more of a safety-in-numbers kind of guy.
Suddenly, a familiar sound pricked up his ears. A rustle.
He dove into the cover of the bushes. Until his company could be determined friend or foe, he couldn’t risk being discovered. He waited until he could get a visual on who he was dealing with.
His whole chest lightened as a familiar figure came into view. Henry.
Nick was just about to make himself known when his ears detected a second figure about to emerge behind the dreamboat lumberjack. Cautious, he lowered himself back into the bushes.
And nearly felt his heart skip a beat at who appeared. Levi?
Nick’s initial reflex was to jump up and tackle-hug his bro—whom he had all but accepted had been hacked into bite-size pieces by now—but before he acted on the impulse, he stopped himself short as a second thought entered his mind.
Levi was fine, not a scratch on him. So why, then, had he just been screaming bloody murder?
Something about this didn’t add up.
For the second time that night, Nick surveilled his bro in secrecy.
* * *
“All right, this ought to be a good spot,” Henry said to Levi.
Even in the dark, Nick made out a devilish grin on Levi’s face. “Works for me.” He dropped his shorts without ceremony.
Henry licked his lips at the massive package hanging before him. “The question is, does this work for you?” Getting on his knees, he shoved Levi’s cock into his mouth.
The moan that followed from Levi indicated that, as a matter of fact, it did work for him.
Furrowing his brow, Nick lowered himself in the bushes. Henry? With Levi? This was truly shaping up to be a night he’d never forget.
The sight of his bro’s dick hardening from the oral milking he was receiving pulled Nick from his thoughts. Apparently, Henry was a man of multiple talents—chopping wood, sucking cock—Nick wondered what other secrets the mysterious mountain man held.
Stroking Levi’s cock, now dripping with spit, Henry turned his mouth toward Levi’s balls. One by one, he bounced them tenderly on this tip of his tongue.
“Fuck, am I glad I ran into you,” Nick heard his bro tell Henry.
A pop of suction sounded as the woodsman released Levi’s nuts from his mouth. “I just figured your pals shouldn’t be the only ones getting some action tonight.”
Nick did a double take at the comment. Did he just hear what he thought he’d heard? Surely, Henry couldn’t have meant him and Jamal. But who else could he have been talking about?
Nick searched his mind for an explanation. Why on Earth would Levi have told Henry his bros would be having sex at a time like this? Didn’t Levi know that, after the way he’d been screaming, they could only assume their bro would be in some kind of mortal danger right now?
And then it hit him.
They’d been set up.
He stifled a gasp at the revelation. It all made sense. This whole evening, Levi had been angling to hook up Nick with Jamal. And The Boner Killer had given him the perfect opportunity.
If Nick and Jamal thought Levi had been taken by the killer, it would only have been a matter of time before, having found their efforts to hunt him down fruitless, they turned their efforts toward a different strategy.
Getting The Boner Killer to come to them.
And how did one lure an ax man who only struck when his victims were having relations?
They’d do the only thing they could—to save their pal, Nick and Jamal would decide to have sex.
He felt his cheeks burn. All of it, this whole time, had been a ruse. An ingenious one, he’d give Levi that, but a ruse nonetheless. He and Jamal had been worried sick over their bro, and here it had turned out to be nothing but a practical joke.
He could have bopped Levi a good one for this.
Maybe in a bit, he decided. After all, it wouldn’t have been polite to interrupt Levi in the middle of having such a good time.
And the fact that Nick was enjoying the show was entirely beside the point.
“So, uh, you been out here long?” Levi attempted to make conversation as Henry worshipped his shaft.
“It’s felt like eternity,” Henry replied, coming up for air.
“Yeah, I suppose a little nature goes a long way.” Levi sighed with pleasure as Henry continued slurping his cock. “Sorry, what did you say brings you out here?”
“I didn’t,” Henry replied flatly before going straight back to sucking.
Not much for conversation, Nick thought as he continued eavesdropping. It was rather odd, he realized—running into another camper this far out. Especially one as sexy as Henry.
Talk about a happy coincidence.
“Mmm,” Levi moaned as the lumberjack swallowed him deeper. “When Nick said you were hot, he wasn’t kidding.”
Henry looked up as he ran his tongue down the length of Levi’s rod. “That was a hell of a trick you played on your friend—making him think you’d fallen victim to The Boner Killer.”
“He’ll thank me when it’s over,” Levi assured. “He and Jamal have been wanting to fuck for ages. I’m just helping matters along. Lord knows they’re both too shy about sex to ever initiate it themselves.”
That’s not true, Nick wanted to say. He’d nearly sprung from the bushes to challenge him then and there.
“What’s that?” Henry said, turning over his shoulder toward the rustle Nick had inadvertently caused.
Shit, Nick thought as he made himself as small as possible inside the bushes. He’d given himself away.
Unconcerned, Levi redirected Nick’s mouth back to his cock. “I’m sure…mmm…it’s…ahh…nothing.”
But Henry did not appear to be convinced. He pulled his mouth away again. “I don’t know, man. What if it really is…well…you-know-who?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Levi replied. “You’re practically becoming as paranoid as Nick.”
“Maybe for good reason.” He stood to his feet, wiping the taste of Levi’s manhood from his mouth. “I’m gonna go check it out.”
Levi sighed resignation. “Suit yourself.”
Cautiously, Henry made his way to the bushes, to the exact same spot Nick had chosen. “It sounded like it was coming from here.”
Waiting back, Levi rolled his eyes impatiently as Henry reached out to part the branches.
“I’m positive I heard something.”
He opened the bushes wide.
“Well, what do you know?” he remarked at the sight before him. “Guess there’s nothing here, after all.”
* * *
Nick’s heart pounded as he again found himself sprinting through the forest. Now that had really been a close one. Another moment’s hesitation, and he’d surely have been caught.
His thoughts raced to keep up with his feet. What a dirty, low-down trick. The nerve of Levi. How could his bro do this to him?
Nick was not about to take this lying down—or in any position, for that matter. If Levi thought he was going to pull one over on them, then that empty-headed muscle twink had another thing coming. Two could play at this game.
Which was precisely why he’d had to make himself scarce. If Henry had caught him spying in the bushes, Levi would know his jig was up.
His harebrained jig, Nick might add. It was like something out of a cheesy porn film—faking his abduction by a killer with a penchant for sodomy in order to coerce his bosom buddies into finally surrendering to the sexual tension they shared, all in hopes of luring said killer and rescuing their bro from untimely demise. As if something like that would ever work on him and Jamal.
He slowed his pace, deciding he’d removed himself from imminent danger of being caught. Could something like that work on them? The idea was certainly enticing. Judging by the outline in his shorts, Jamal had an anaconda swinging between his legs. What Nick wouldn’t have given for a chance to charm that snake.
It would be so easy—telling Jamal he’d come up with an idea to bring his boyfriend to safety. An idea that, while perhaps a bit unorthodox, would surely get The Boner Killer to come calling.
He could picture it now:
Nick?
Yes?
You ready?
Maybe?
Just breathe slowly.
I will.
Remember, Nick, we’re doing this for our bro.
He shook himself out of it. No, Nick, he resolved. You are not going to exploit inside information to satisfy your horny fantasies. You are not going to participate in your bro’s lies to his boyfriend. You are not going to fornicate with hung-like-a-horse Jamal.
But, oh, how he wanted to.
Just then, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Well, speak of the devil.
“What’s up, Jamal?” The greeting came out weak through his suddenly bone-dry throat. Apparently, telling his bro the truth would be easier said than done.
“You OK, Nick?” came Levi’s voice across the line. “You sound…nervous.”
Nick held back a scoff. Nervous? Of course, he was nervous. He was currently holding the key to a Pandora’s Box full of uncharted sexual adventure with his smokin’ hot bro, and the next words he uttered would decide whether or not that box would get unlocked.
He let out a sigh. Although he wanted to desperately, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Levi was right—Nick was shy about sex. He didn’t have the balls to proposition Jamal. And Jamal certainly wouldn’t ever come up with such a ludicrous idea as luring the sex-crazed killer that had just kidnapped his boyfriend by fucking his best bro senseless.
Almost as if on cue, Jamal’s voice transmitted over the phone, “I think I have an idea.”
Nick spoke as if he hadn’t even heard him. “Jamal, there’s something you should know.”
Much like Nick, Jamal also did not appear to register the words coming at him across the line. “I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it, being that you’re my bro and all…”
“I feel kind of awkward being the one to tell you this, but…”
“You and I need to fuck.”
The line went still as Nick fell speechless. Moments ticked by at what felt like a glacial pace.
Finally, an embarrassed sigh from Jamal broke the silence. “I knew it was a bad idea.”
Nick shook himself out of his daze. Had he just heard what he thought he’d heard? Quick, Nick, he told himself, say something. Say anything. Just don’t let the moment slip away. He stammered to form a response. “I guess…I just…What exactly do you mean?”
His receiver made the sound of Jamal clearing his throat. “Go with me here, OK? The way I see it, these woods are huge, right?”
Nick’s voice was tentative. “Right…”
“And that makes searching for The Boner Killer like looking for a needle in a haystack, right?”
Again, Nick replied with caution. “Riiight…”
“We need to get the killer to come to us.” Jamal’s voice had picked up speed. “And how do we do that?”
Of course, Nick knew exactly what Jamal was driving at. “We make him think we’re having sex.”
“Bingo.”
Silence hung between them as Nick considered how to reply.
“You’re right,” Jamal inferred when no answer followed. “It’s a dumb idea, isn’t it?”
Now, Nick’s response came rapid-fire. “No, it isn’t that.”
Unseen by Nick, Jamal raised his eyebrows curiously. “Then, what is it?”
Nick swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. “It’s just that, I didn’t think you were interested.”
The comment seemed to catch Jamal off-guard. “Well, I mean, as long as it’s for Levi, right?”
“Of course,” Nick responded, if perhaps a bit too quickly.
“So, is that a yes?” Jamal tried and failed to hide the tremors in his voice.
Nick bit his lip in thought. “What about when The Boner Killer shows up? What do we do then?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Jamal assured, not entirely inspiring Nick’s confidence. After all, even though Levi’s abduction was just a hoax, The Boner Killer’s prison escape was all too real.
“So, what do you say?” Jamal asked. “You in?”
A deep breath filled Nick’s chest. It was still hard to believe this could actually be happening right now. Sex with his bro Jamal was, in every sense, a dream come true.
But what about getting even with Levi? If Nick agreed to get fucked by Jamal, he would be playing right into Levi’s hand. Was he really about to give him that satisfaction?
Well, if by doing so, Nick got some satisfaction of his own…
Besides, it wasn’t like he was the one suggesting it. Jamal had come up with the idea on his own. Even if Nick hadn’t discovered Levi’s ruse, his conversation with Jamal still would have happened regardless, which meant he had no reason whatsoever to feel guilty for planting any ideas. It was, quite literally, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“I’m in if you’re in,” Nick replied. “And by that, I mean in me, of course.”
A chuckle sounded over the phone. “Of course.”
“See you soon, bro.”
“You got it, bro.”
About to hang up, Jamal suddenly recalled a thought. “Oh, wait. There was something you wanted to tell me?”
Nick froze stiff at the question. His news about Levi’s ploy.
He could still tell Jamal…later. There were just a few matters he needed to take care of first.
Namely, Jamal’s donkey dick.
“Forget what I said earlier,” Nick amended. “See you back at camp.”
“OK, but hurry,” Jamal replied. “Remember, our bro is counting on us.”
* * *
Nick couldn’t move fast enough as he made his way back to camp. Fuck, he’d fantasized about this for ages. If Jamal only knew just how many times Nick had imagined the sinful things he wished to do with his bro. And now, it was all moments away from coming true.
His heart pounded a mile a minute as adrenaline coursed through his system. Never in his wildest dreams had Nick ever expected he’d get a chance to cross this threshold with Jamal.
Granted, he’d never expected it with Levi, either. Yet, just this evening, he’d been dick-to-dick with him. Could it have been that all this time, his pals had been secretly desperate for this, and Nick had been simply oblivious?
Fuck, his bros were hornier than he was.
So why, then, was he starting to have second thoughts about this?
He slowed his pace, his feet suddenly heavy in the underbrush. With Levi, it hadn’t amounted to anything more than buds swapping handies—fairly tame, all things considered. But this—this would be going all the way.
What he and Levi had done could easily be shrugged off if needed. They were both men, weren’t they? All men knew that tugging your dick feels good, so who could blame a couple dudes for lending each other a hand?
He couldn’t help but wonder—just how far did the limits of bro-hood stretch? If handies could be counted in the friend zone, where did blowjobs fall? And what about fucking?
If you have to ask, Nick, said a voice inside his head, then I think you know what the answer is.
Fucking was most definitely not in the friend zone.
So, what would that make them? Assuming he went through with this, of course. The more he thought about it, fuck buddies didn’t feel quite right. That made it sound like their relationship only revolved around sex. But Levi and Jamal were his friends—friends he truly cared about spending time with. When was the last time he’d dialed up a fuck buddy for anything besides a booty call?
So, fuck buddies was out. But what else was there? Friends with benefits sounded so casual. And casual was not the way he felt about Levi and Jamal. If Nick was being honest, the way he felt about his bros was more like the way you were supposed to feel about…a boyfriend.
The realization dropped a lead balloon inside his stomach. He looked around for some cold water to splash in his face.
Boyfriends? That was absurd. Levi and Jamal were already taken—by each other, no less. And even if they did break up one day, Nick could never choose between them. He loved them both equally.
The word, even though he’d only thought it, left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth. Love? Was that the way he felt?
He shook the thought away. Who said he had to put a label on it? After all, relationships were complex things. They didn’t always fall into one category or another. And that was especially true these days. Gay, straight, bi, fluid, male, female, trans, nonbinary, pansexual, demisexual, polysexual, omnisexual—the world was one big à la carte buffet. Trying to fit what he shared with Levi and Jamal into a neat, little box was, dare he say, archaic.
There was one thing that still worried him, though. The Boner Killer. Sure, Levi’s plot had turned out to be a ruse, but the fact remained that the armed and dangerous maniac was still on the loose. And the threat he posed was entirely real.
What exactly did Jamal expect them to do if the ax man came calling? He didn’t suppose his bro had some sort of black belt he’d been hiding. Supposing they did lure the killer. How were they supposed to make sure they came out of this without getting hacked into meat scraps? They were completely without defense.
It gave a whole new meaning to unprotected sex.
He swallowed the fear rising inside him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He’d done plenty of risky stuff for sex before—anonymous hookups, random vehicles, public parks—but taking chances with his life was a whole other level. Was this really worth it?
And then, he arrived at their campsite to the sight of Jamal already stripped down to his briefs, every inch—well, almost every inch—of his delicious, toned frame on display.
Yeah, this was worth it.
For as close as they were, it surprised Nick that this was in fact the first time he’d seen his bro so nearly nude. Despite his flawless physique, Jamal had never been one to flaunt his body. He always wore a shirt at the gym, and at the beach, he opted for a modest pair of board shorts.
What Jamal was hiding, Nick hadn’t the foggiest. Until now, of course. Seeing Jamal in his skivvies, it was obvious what he was packing underneath. Why he kept it to himself, though, was another matter. Clearly, Jamal had nothing to be ashamed of.
Nick felt his palms sweat. Levi hadn’t been kidding about his boyfriend’s advantage.
Lucky bastard, Nick thought to himself.
Although, tonight, the luck was all his. Finally, Nick was getting his chance to see what all the hype was about.
He approached Jamal slowly, his eyes gliding over the contours of his bro’s masculine figure. Between the three of them, Jamal definitely took the prize for most ripped. Any more definition, and the guy could get mistaken for a dictionary.
“Took you long enough,” Jamal said with a grin as Nick arrived.
Nick wasn’t sure whether his bro was talking about the last ten minutes or the last ten years. Either way, he couldn’t help but agree.
“Ready for some bro sex?” Jamal bit his lower lip.
Nick whipped off his shirt instantly. “Bring it on, bro.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Scared Stiff, Part 3
A Spicy M/M Horror-Comedy Romance
Nick was in a haze. A dreamy, euphoric, lust-filled haze. He wasn’t looking at his bro—he was feasting his eyes on the statue of a Greek god.
Inches away, Jamal stood in the moonlight, shimmers bathing the contours of his lean, muscled flesh against the backdrop of the forest. Nick felt his heart rate spike, that primal response to man’s carnal desires, man’s carnal needs. Tonight would be, in a word, wild.
It still didn’t feel real, standing face-to-face with his bro—Nick shirtless in his shorts, Jamal in nothing but skin-hugging briefs—moments away from becoming animals together. But it was exactly what Nick wanted. With every fiber of his being, Nick wanted his bro, had always wanted him, in fact. And he wanted every single thing he knew Jamal was about to do to him.
He adjusted the growing bulge in his pants. First, handies with Levi, and now, getting fucked by Jamal—talk about a lucky night. Never in Nick’s wildest dreams had he imagined their bromance would take this turn. This was something that happened in fantasies, not real life.
Apparently, truth really was stranger than fiction.
But was this perhaps too strange? Yes, the sight of Jamal’s package looking ready to burst through his briefs made Nick’s mouth water, but could they ever go back to just being bros after something like this? Would Nick even want to go back to that?
Jamal seemed to sense Nick’s anxiety. He reached out a hand. “You OK, bro? We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts.”
All Nick could think about, though, was how perfectly his fingers fit between Jamal’s. It was just how holding a man’s hand was meant to feel.
None of Nick’s dates had felt like this. Recently, he’d found himself questioning whether love was out there at all. Could it have been that maybe love had been right here in front of him all along?
Holding Jamal’s hand felt effortless, it felt natural. It felt like everything in the world was just as it was supposed to be.
Which was precisely why Nick worried that everything was in fact not how it was supposed to be at all. Jamal and Levi were his bros, and no matter how hard Nick wished, they’d never turn into something more. So, he had to ask himself, was fucking still such a good idea?
Going into this, all Nick had wanted was hot, unbridled, no-strings-attached, bro-back sex—or so he thought, that is. Little by little, it had come to his attention that what he wanted with Levi and Jamal was in fact something much more.
He was officially catching feelings for his bros.
He suppressed a knot inside his stomach. Surely, this couldn’t have been what Levi had intended when he’d concocted this little scheme of his. All he’d wanted was to stir the pot, have some laughs, and dupe his two buds into boning.
You know—good, clean fun.
But through his meddling, Levi had opened a whole can of worms—a can of worms that Nick could only imagine was entirely unintended.
And if his feelings were complicated now, they certainly wouldn’t get simpler once he’d had Jamal’s penis inside him.
Jamal’s huge, fat, hole-stretching penis.
So, was fucking still such a good idea? Probably not, but he’d sort out his feelings later.
“Oh, I am more than OK,” Nick replied, his mouth already watering. “Let’s do this.”
* * *
“So, what do you think that noise was, then?” Levi gawked over Henry’s shoulder at the empty bushes before them. Something must have caused that rustle that had so unceremoniously interrupted the nice, peaceful blowjob he’d been enjoying.
“Beats me.” Henry stood to his feet and surveyed their surroundings. The forest was completely still. Nothing but the chirping of crickets and the flickering of fireflies. “Probably just a squirrel.”
Levi swallowed a gulp. “Sounded kinda heavy for a squirrel, don’t you think?”
Henry narrowed his eyes. Surely, it couldn’t have been The Boner Killer that Levi was referring to. A minute ago, he’d balked at the idea. “I thought you said we shouldn’t be worried about—”
“Well, maybe we should be.” It was the first time he’d truly given the notion any thought. Sure, the odds of them actually crossing paths with a homicidal maniac out here may have been slim, but that didn’t make it impossible.
“Look,” Henry said, his tone comforting, “I know these woods. They can play tricks on you at night—make things look bigger, make things sound scarier. Whatever we heard, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
His assurances, though, were lost on Levi. Sure, Henry may have known these woods once, but now, they had a killer on the loose. The situation had changed.
What had he been thinking, pranking Nick the way he had? He could end up getting his bro killed. It had only been meant as a joke, but now that he realized what danger they were in, he suddenly stopped seeing the humor in his stunt.
“I can tell you’re worried,” Henry said, reading the frown on Levi’s face. “And what I’m going to tell you is, don’t. You’re out here camping to enjoy yourself.” He quirked an eyebrow playfully. “So, what do you say I help you get back to doing that?”
The proposition was tempting, but something inside Levi felt off. Henry was young. Henry was gay. Henry was having sex in the woods. In short, Henry was a textbook match for The Boner Killer’s next victim. So why wasn’t he worried?
There was only one reason Levi could think of.
“Don’t fret,” said Henry as he lowered his mouth to Levi’s crotch. “As long as you’re with me, I promise you’ll be safe.” He unbuttoned Levi’s shorts and swallowed his shaft to the base.
Pleasure and fear mixed inside Levi then. Was he safe? He sure didn’t feel like it.
“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he moaned as Henry swirled his tongue on the tip of his rod.
He had to get a grip on himself. Chill out, Levi. Henry is not The Boner Killer, all right? That creep hates gays, and judging by the skills Henry’s got, he’s much more interested in loving gays.
Thus, dick melting back into Henry’s mouth, Levi found himself melting back into nirvana. Wet and sloppy, Henry’s lips glided effortlessly along Levi’s shaft, sending rhythmic pulses of pleasure radiating down to his toes. It wasn’t long, and Levi had forgotten all about Nick, all about his prank, and all about The Boner Killer.
* * *
“So, uh, how do you want to start?”
Jamal furrowed his brow in thought. “Well, if we’re going to fool The Boner Killer, we’ll have to make this convincing.” The woods around them chirped as he searched the corners of his mind.
“Convincing?” Nick asked, his tone suddenly unsure.
Revelation dawned on Jamal’s face then. “Wait a second, you didn’t think we were going to actually…”
Nick felt a bowling ball drop in his stomach as he realized he’d made a terrible miscalculation. He scrambled for a hasty response. “What? Of course not!” A nervous laugh followed. “Come on, I knew you weren’t being serious.” He plastered on a smile as Jamal eyed him warily. Of course, his bro hadn’t meant fucking for real. What was this, a porno?
Shit, he’d been an idiot. All Jamal wanted to do was make it look like they were having sex so The Boner Killer would come calling and they could rescue their bro. Meanwhile, thanks to his sex-crazed brain, Nick had come within an inch of making a fool of himself.
God, did he feel stupid.
Jamal shook his head in spite of himself. “You really had me going there for a minute.” He gave his bro a playful punch on the arm. “I was worried that maybe my, well, attire had sent the wrong signal.” He gestured to his tight, lean frame, clothed in nothing but a pair of white briefs.
Nick averted his eyes to avoid popping a boner. If Jamal was any more sculpted, he’d have belonged in a museum.
The sound of Jamal’s voice then snapped Nick out of his daze. “Follow me to the tent,” he said. “I think I’ve got an idea.”
The remark set off a collision of emotions inside Nick. The first, panic. Panic that, any moment now, he was on the edge of sprouting a raging hard-on. The second, doubt. Doubt whether, now that he knew Jamal only wanted to fake having sex with him, this whole ordeal was still even worth it. And third—this one inspired by the view of Jamal’s backside to which Nick had been treated as his bro sauntered casually on his way to their tent—lust. Lust for those broad, powerful shoulders. Lust for that tight, trim waist. Lust for those firm, apple-shaped ass cheeks.
It was then that Jamal noticed his bro had yet to follow him. “Coming?”
Nick felt like he had a steel cable wound up in his chest. There were a dozen ways this could go wrong—not the least of which was getting hacked to bits by The Boner Killer. Was it really still worth all this?
Another glance at the bulge in Jamal’s briefs, though, and Nick’s mind had been made.
“Coming!”
* * *
Henry knew how to suck. It was like he had a sixth sense. Levi hadn’t a clue how, but with every passing moment, Henry’s lips did exactly what Levi wanted before he even knew he wanted it.
The best part was, he didn’t neglect an inch. From head to hilt, Henry worshipped Levi’s manhood—and with a cock his size, that was no small task.
“Fuck, your tongue is magical,” Levi moaned. He ran his fingers through Henry’s hair as he watched him work his shaft.
Although Henry tried to reply, it was hard to be articulate with a giant cock lodged against the back of his throat. Levi got the message, anyway.
Gripping Henry’s head with both hands, Levi thrusted himself in and out of that wet, warm mouth. His dick had begun to drip with the woodsman’s spit. Heck, maybe this dude could even teach Jamal a thing or two.
He wondered if his scheme had paid off yet. How hot would that be—him hooking up with this dreamboat at the same time that his two best buds were fucking each other senseless? As someone who had the pleasure of taking Jamal’s dick on the regular, Levi knew that Nick was in for a treat.
Images of his bros’ bodies tangled up together began to fill Levi’s mind when suddenly, a familiar sound yanked him out of his thoughts. Another rustle from the bushes.
“Did you hear that?” he asked Henry.
Apparently, though, Henry had heard neither the rustle nor the question. He continued to deepthroat Levi’s cock without missing a beat.
“Hey,” Levi repeated. While he was certainly flattered to have Henry so enchanted by his dick, that didn’t change the fact that they were exposed, without protection. “I said, did you hear that?”
Finally, Henry pried his lips from Levi’s pipe. He wiped the gobs of spit dripping out the corners of his mouth. “I told you, man, it’s nothing. You’re probably just imagining it.”
Levi bit his lip. Could he just be imagining the rustling? It sounded so real. Why wasn’t Henry concerned?
A little voice nagged at the back of his mind. You know why he isn’t concerned, Levi. It’s the only possible explanation.
He shook the thought away. Don’t be ridiculous, you idiot. It’s just these woods—you’re letting them get to you.
Sensing Levi’s nerves, Henry decided to propose an idea. “How about this—what do you say we go back to my cabin? It’s quiet, secluded. You’ll be able to relax there just fine.”
Levi turned the idea over in his head. It was a good point—he’d be much less anxious in the comfort of Henry’s cabin. They’d certainly be safe from The Boner Killer there.
Unless, of course, The Boner Killer was actually…
But then Levi noticed the bulge in Henry’s pants…the thick, heavy bulge.
Get it together, Levi, he told himself. This hottie is literally begging to have sex with you. Surely, you’re not going to pass him up because some wild, impossible notion has you paranoid? You know how much you’d come to regret that?
“All right, lead the way.”
His only hope was that he wouldn’t come to regret this.
* * *
“So, how, again, is this supposed to work?” Nick wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to faking sexual intercourse. He much preferred the real thing.
Jamal pulled out a lantern from his backpack. “Trust me, I’ve got it all figured out.” With the flip of a switch, the tent’s interior became brilliantly illuminated—along with everything inside it.
Which, of course, included Jamal’s killer bod.
His eyes are up there, Nick reminded himself.
“Genius, isn’t it?” Jamal continued. “From outside, it’ll look just like we’re going to pound town.” He rammed his fist into his palm for effect.
An effect that made Nick’s toes curl. He shook off the images that had suddenly filled his head. “Seems simple enough.”
Jamal nodded with enthusiasm. “Add in a few sound effects, and The Boner Killer won’t be able to resist us.”
Nick did a double take. “Wait. Sound effects?”
“Of course,” Jamal replied. “Like I said, we need to be convincing.”
The suggestion sent Nick’s heart rate into overdrive.
“Let’s try a little practice,” Jamal proposed.
Nick felt like he’d just died and gone to hell. “I don’t know, Jamal. Aren’t sound effects a little—”
“Nick,” Jamal chastised, shaming his bro into silence, “we’re doing this for Levi. If ever there was a time to suck it up—”
“You’re right,” Nick complied, choosing to ignore his bro’s colorful choice of words. He nodded in solidarity. “For Levi.”
Drawing in a breath, all Nick could think was, What have I gotten myself into? Maybe it was time to come clean, be honest with Jamal about their bro’s little prank. He was, after all, hiding in a tent, preparing for mock fornication, about to do an imitation of what he imagined he’d sound like taking his bro’s monster cock. It was starting to feel like things might be going too far.
Then again, perhaps they’d already gone too far. How exactly was he supposed to get out of this now? Sorry, Jamal—when I thought we were boning for real, I was going to keep what I know a secret, but now that you only want to pretend, I might as well tell you the truth.
That would go over real well.
Nick had to accept it—he was in too deep. There was no backing out now. He filled his lungs full to give his best performance.
“Ahh, fuck me, Jamal.”
Jamal went wide-eyed.
And Nick instantly looked away. “Too much?”
The expression on Jamal’s face said otherwise. “No, I think that was…fucking perfect, man.”
A smile lit up inside Nick at having pleased his bro. “Now you try.”
Jamal looked unsure. “OK, here goes.” He sucked in a breath. “Fuuuck, Nick, your hole is tiiight.” He looked to Nick for feedback. “Well…?”
Nick tried to distract himself from the semi-boner growing in his pants. “Oh, I think that ought to do it.”
“Good.” Jamal nodded his head, businesslike. “Should we get down to it, then?”
“I guess,” Nick answered. “Shall I assume the position?”
“Not like that,” Jamal retorted. He tossed a hinting glance at Nick’s shorts. “Even through the tent lining, it’s still obvious you’ve got those on. Better strip down to your underwear to be safe.”
Nick fell silent at the remark.
“What’s the problem?” asked Jamal, confused over his bro’s discomfort.
“The problem,” Nick replied, “is that I’m not wearing any.”
* * *
If there was one thing Levi knew, it was his way around these woods. Nick, Jamal, and he must have taken nearly a dozen camping trips out here by now. There wasn’t an inch of this forest he hadn’t seen.
Or so he’d thought.
Following Henry’s lead, a growing unease swelled inside him. He didn’t recall this neck of the woods. It begged the question, where exactly was Henry taking him?
“Wow,” he said, hiding the quaver in his voice, “your cabin sure is secluded.”
Henry didn’t turn around as he continued leading the way. “Don’t much like being bothered, I guess.”
Don’t like being bothered, or don’t like being found? a little voice inside Levi asked. He’d certainly like to know he could be found, should the need arise.
He shook himself out of it. Get a hold of yourself, he reset as he followed in Henry’s footsteps. You’re simply letting these woods get the best of you. Henry is nothing to worry about. The guy’s a sweetheart. And besides, look at him, Levi.
A heaviness filled his crotch as he ogled the mountain man’s build from behind. Surely, it wouldn’t be long and he’d forget all about his paranoia-induced fears, Levi told himself. He’d be much too busy enjoying the sinful things Henry had in store for him.
Almost as if on cue, the lumberjack pointed ahead. “There she is.”
Levi’s stomach did a freefall as he followed Henry’s gesture with his gaze. “That’s your cabin?”
“Sure is,” Henry said, beaming with pride. “Isn’t she something?”
“You can say that again.” He swallowed down a gulp.
Henry’s cabin looked straight out of Friday the 13th.
* * *
“What do you mean you’re not wearing underwear?” Jamal’s jaw had practically hit the ground.
Nick shrugged sheepishly. “I just prefer not being…inhibited.” He resolved not to let himself take the blame. How was he supposed to have planned for this when he’d packed for this trip?
Jamal furrowed his brow in thought. “Well, if you ask me, I’d say this inhibits us considerably.”
Nick rolled his eyes. Perhaps it was finally time to come clean about his knowledge of Levi’s prank. Clearly, this was becoming more complicated than he’d intended.
“Jamal, I think there’s something I should tell you.”
“Not now,” his bro cut off. He sighed with resignation. “There’s only one thing to do, I guess.”
The interruption sent a bristle through Nick’s system. “Trust me, Jamal, you’re going to want to—”
“I’ll just have to get naked with you.” He yanked off his briefs without ceremony.
Now it was Nick’s jaw that hit the ground. “Hamana, hamana, hamana, hamana.”
Jamal regarded Nick as if he was worried he might have to revive him. “You OK, bro?”
The question nearly made Nick laugh. Was he OK? Was he…OK?
Fuck, he was so much better than OK.
When Levi had said Jamal was…ample, he wasn’t kidding. It was like the guy had a third leg hiding in his pants.
“Now you won’t have to feel awkward,” Jamal explained, his giant member flopping freely. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about if we’re both naked.”
With a dong like that, Nick thought to himself, it was hard to imagine how Jamal could ever feel embarrassed.
Jamal cleared his throat hintingly. “Well, your turn, bro.” He indicated Nick’s shorts with his eyes.
A wave of guilt swelled inside Nick then. A moment ago, he’d been on the verge of telling his bro everything. Now, though…
Simply put, Nick was having second thoughts.
“Come on, bro,” Jamal said as he started to grow impatient. “Levi is in danger. Now is not the time to go soft.”
Little did Jamal know, though, that going soft was the least of his bro’s concerns. As it turned out, Nick was in fact dealing with an issue quite the opposite.
* * *
“Well, whatcha waiting for?” Henry said. “Step into my office.”
Levi felt a chill down his spine as he sized up the ramshackle cabin before him. “Your…office?” He swallowed a gulp. “What exactly do you do all the way out here?” Judging by the looks of it, this place played host to the kinds of activities that belonged in horror movies.
“Nothing very interesting, I’m afraid,” Henry answered with a shrug. “You could say it’s a real hack job.”
The phrase sent a shiver through Levi’s system. “Maybe I ought to get back to my friends.”
A look of disappointment etched Henry’s face. “They’ll be fine,” he answered. “Besides, there’s so much I still want to do to you.”
Levi fought the urge to make a run for it. Calm down, he told himself. He’s just talking about sex. For the last time, Levi, Henry is not The Boner Killer.
Henry opened the front door with a creak. “Pardon the mess,” he said. “Trying to keep this place clean lately has been murder.”
Levi felt his blood run cold at the sight waiting for them inside. Every inch of wall space had been covered in hanging sawblades.
* * *
“What the fuck, man? You’re hard?!” Jamal’s eyes looked ready to burst from their sockets at the sight of Nick removing his shorts.
Fuck, Nick cursed in his head. How was he supposed to explain this? “Sorry, man,” he apologized nervously. “You know how it is—you go a few days without jerking, and suddenly it’s got a mind of its own.”
Jamal narrowed his eyes, still trained on Nick’s boner. “I suppose…”
“Come on,” Nick said, deciding to change the subject before Jamal had a chance to think too deeply. “Let’s get down to business.” The sooner they started having fake sex, the sooner he’d be out of this jam.
Levi, thinking they were boning for real inside the tent, would arrive to listen in from outside, then once he’d gotten his kicks, he’d pretend to be The Boner Killer come to hack them to bits. Nick would pretend to be scared—Jamal would be scared for real—before it would all be revealed to have been nothing but Levi pulling a prank.
Key to his scheme, by waiting for Levi to find them, Nick would never have to let on that he’d secretly known the truth all along—but had instead conveniently kept it to himself in hopes of a failed, once-in-a-lifetime chance to get fucked by Jamal for real.
He could only hope, though, that through this little charade, they’d avoid inadvertently enticing the real Boner Killer who was still on the lam out here.
God, what a mess.
“All right,” Jamal said. “You ready to do this?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Never had Nick said something with more truth.
Jamal turned up the lantern to cast their shadows on the tent lining. “Sounds good, bro.” He inhaled deeply. “Well, assume the position.”
Nick did as instructed. This isn’t weird, he told himself. Just two bros, bare-ass naked, hiding from a killer in the woods, about to stage a reenactment of bareback fucking.
Nope, not weird at all.
* * *
“Sorry the place is a little, well, rustic,” Henry said as he led the way inside. “Interior decorators are hard to come by out here.” He laughed at his joke, though it did little to put Levi at ease. “This way to the bedroom.”
Levi followed tentatively. Everywhere he looked, he was met with the evil grin of sharp sawblade teeth. There were handsaws, bow saws, circular saws, saws Levi didn’t even know the names of. What could Henry possibly be doing with all these saws?
His subconscious supplied an answer readily. You know what Henry’s doing with these, Levi. In fact, you’ve known it all along.
“Coming?” Henry asked, apparently sensing Levi’s hesitation. He tracked his visitor’s gaze toward the sawblade shrine. “I see my collection has you on edge.” His brows knit together in thought. “I think I’ve got an idea.” He crossed the room back to Levi and laid his hands firmly on his shoulders. “What do you say we try a little something to help you let go?” A mischievous grin twisted his lips.
Levi did his best to swallow the lump in his throat. Just what exactly did Henry have in mind?
* * *
The tent bowed gently as Jamal fell back against the lining and sighed. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why isn’t this working?
Nick folded himself against the opposite side of the tent. The pair had been fucking—pretend fucking, that is—like champs. And while Nick had enjoyed it immensely, Jamal couldn’t seem to fathom how their charade had failed to produce his desired results.
“Maybe we’re just not The Boner Killer’s type?” Nick suggested.
Jamal groaned in frustration. “Story of my life. You know, you wouldn’t believe how much of his shit guys like me put up with.” He chewed his lip in thought. “I mean, come on, just because you’re a serial killer, it doesn’t mean you gotta be a bigot, too.”
Nick released a scoff. “Just when you thought there might actually be an upside for once to someone who thinks it’s just a preference.” He chuckled nervously.
On the plus side, at least he’d finally managed to get his erection under control. It certainly hadn’t been easy. If he’d thought simulated sex might curb his desire for Jamal, he’d been sorely mistaken. After a teaser of what his bro could do in the sheets, Nick’s hunger for him was stronger than ever.
He had to put an end to this. Jamal was his bro. So what if Levi wanted the two of them to fuck? That still didn’t make it a good idea.
Jamal didn’t even want to fuck him. At least, Nick didn’t think he did. If Jamal had wanted to, surely he would have tried to make a move on him while they were, well, role playing, right?
Nick bit his lip in thought. Even on the remote chance that Jamal really could be interested in him, it was still a recipe for disaster. The handjobs Nick had exchanged with Levi were one thing, but this was another entirely. Having Jamal’s dick inside him would change things forever.
Jamal’s fat, heavy, droolworthy dick.
Nick felt his mouth salivate as he discreetly eyed his bro’s member sitting just an arm’s length away.
He shook his head clear. No, Nick, he disciplined himself. You know what you have to do. Now, man up and do it.
“Jamal?” he said, tentative. “There’s really something I should tell you.”
* * *
The door to Henry’s bedroom opened with a creak. After the sawblades displayed in the cabin’s main space, Levi could only imagine what horrors would be waiting for him in here. A tub full of acid? A blood-splattered tarp? A mound of garbage bags with fingers falling out? Levi braced himself for the worst.
A gasp escaped him as the space came into view. Henry’s bedroom was…nice?
“You OK, man?” Henry asked his awestruck guest.
Levi shook himself out of his daze.
“Here,” Henry continued as he reached under the bed, “I think I have something that’ll help you learn to surrender.”
Levi cocked his head at the item Henry revealed. “A coil of rope?”
A wry grin twisted Henry’s lips. “Don’t worry, boy. I promise this’ll be a…cinch.”
It wasn’t a lie. Henry was nothing if not attentive. Levi felt like he was melting into the ether between the woodsman’s capable hands.
He began by peeling off Levi’s shirt.
“Damn,” Henry exhaled as he assessed his guest’s physique. “That is not what I expected to find underneath.”
Firmness. Warmth. Confidence. Control. Those were the sensations Levi felt as Henry’s labor-worn hands ran the length of his bare torso. Now this was the kind of chills he’d been hoping for when he came out here.
Henry worshipped his visitor’s body, much smaller in stature than his own Herculean build, with a ravenous passion. He kissed with fervor across Levi’s skin. Dug his fingertips into the flesh of his muscles. Made Levi feel like every part of him was safe so long as he was under the mountain man’s guidance.
And that was when it got good.
Really good.
“So, uh, what exactly do you plan on doing with that?” Levi indicated the rope with his eyes.
A roguish grin flickered across Henry’s face. “Tell me, Levi. You ever tried rope play before?”
Levi swallowed a gulp. “Rope play?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, boy,” Henry replied. “I can tell the idea turns you on.”
He wasn’t wrong. The image of himself bound and dominated by Henry was enough to make Levi sprout a boner then and there.
The reality of that image, though—that was another matter entirely. Sure, being tied up by a hulking, muscular beefcake sounded hotter than hell, but Levi had never dared to try something that kinky before.
Not that he was shy when it came to getting freaky, but being tied up in ropes and held captive—that was extreme even for him. Especially considering it was being done to him by a stranger.
Would it hurt? Would it be scary? What if he got stuck in a knot and Henry had to sever the ropes with one of his nightmare-fuel saws?
“We don’t have to do this,” Henry said as he picked up on Levi’s hesitation. “It was just an idea I thought you might find…helpful.”
Levi inhaled sharply. “No,” he said. “I want to.” The tingles that rippled through his body at simply the sight of the ropes in Henry’s hands was proof of it.
Stepping closer, he presented himself to his master. “I want you to take control.”
Henry didn’t need to be told twice. In short order, he had Levi bound in a full-chest tie, each segment of rope cinched against the contours of his muscles. His arms, restrained behind his back, were squeezed tight at his sides. Apart from his legs and feet, Levi was completely immobile.
And it made his heartbeat race.
Though he’d been skeptical at Henry’s initial suggestion, now that Levi was experiencing for himself what it was like to be tied up, oh, how his tune had changed. He was officially, he decided, a convert.
The way the binds pressed against his skin, the way the tension constricted his movement, the way being trussed up rendered him powerless.
A pang of fear spiked in him then. Powerless.
As in, vulnerable.
Submitted.
Unprotected.
He sure had given Henry his trust for someone he’d only just met. And despite his efforts to the contrary, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him was…off.
“Don’t go putting up a struggle now,” Henry said, making Levi’s blood turn cold. “Remember, this is about letting go.”
Levi nodded obediently. Henry was right. Wasn’t that why he and his bros had taken this wilderness trip to begin with—to unwind? And while rope bondage hadn’t exactly been what he’d had in mind, it certainly had done the trick. For once, Levi, he told himself, would you just quit worrying and let yourself enjoy?
Before he could finish the thought, though, he was stopped premature by an urgent-sounding knock at the cabin’s front door.
“Now, who could that be?” Henry mused. He frowned inwardly. “Well, I suppose I’d better go see.”
He crossed the room, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink.
* * *
“You can’t be serious.”
Jamal’s eyes had grown practically as huge as his balls.
You did the right thing, a panicked Nick reminded himself as he waited for his bro to go on. You had to tell him the truth that this was all Levi’s prank.
Gritting his teeth, Nick prepared himself for the worst. Would his bro be angry at Levi for plotting this scheme, angry at him for trying to hide it…angry at them both for messing around together earlier?
This wasn’t going to be pretty.
And then, the tent filled with a burst of laughter.
“That has got to be the most hilarious thing that dweeb has ever done!”
A slack-jawed Nick gaped in stupor at his howling bro before him. Had he really just heard what he thought he’d heard?
“You aren’t mad?” he asked, tentative.
Wiping away tears, Jamal managed to get a hold of himself. “Am I mad that my boyfriend can never get enough of me having hot sex with hot dudes? Fuck no.”
A spark of electricity flickered through Nick then. “What did you just say?”
Jamal cocked his head, confused. “Fuck?”
“No, not that,” Nick replied. “You said I was a…hot dude.” He felt his palms begin to sweat. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. Jamal hadn’t meant it. It was probably just a slip of the tongue.
Fuck, Nick, he cursed himself. You were almost in the clear. You were this close to laughing it off, getting dressed again, and forgetting that any of this had ever happened. But you just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now, could you? You had to go and open your mouth. Well, nice work, ’cause if total humiliation was your goal, pal, then mission accomplished.
But he just had to know. They’d come this far, hadn’t they? It wasn’t exactly every day that he found himself naked in the woods with one of his very best bros. If ever there was a time to take a risk and shoot his shot, this was objectively it.
He couldn’t deny it any longer. He’d fantasized about Jamal for as long as he could remember. His thick, powerful pecs. His tight, washboard abs. His giant, tantalizing cock.
In secret, Nick had always wondered if perhaps his bro might think similar lustful thoughts in return, but never had he dared to actually ask such a question. Bros had a code to follow, and breaking that code was forbidden.
But out here, beside Jamal, together with nothing but their bodies, Nick couldn’t chicken out now. One way or the other, he had to know. Had to know if his bro wanted him, too. Had to know if his bro got hard just thinking about him, too. Had to know if his bro felt his heart begin to race around him, too.
Even if he got shot down, Levi knew he’d prefer that to the torture of another day of wondering.
Finally, just as Nick was about to die of suspense, Jamal opened his mouth to speak. “Well, of course I think you’re hot, Nick.”
The words made Nick’s heart do a somersault. “But we’re…bros.”
Jamal shrugged, unbothered. “So? Bros can be hot, too.”
Nick could not possibly have agreed more as he fought to keep his eyes off Jamal’s body.
Suddenly, though, Jamal shrunk back. “Fuck, man,” he said. He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just made that hella awkward, didn’t I?” He lowered his gaze. “Sometimes I forget not all guys are twenty-four-seven cum factories like me. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Nick felt his pulse quicken instantly. Jamal was trying to backpedal. And that meant his window of opportunity was closing. He sucked in a breath. He had to act fast. It was officially now or never.
“I didn’t say I felt uncomfortable.”
Jamal arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Quite the opposite, actually.
Jamal stroked his chin. “Oh?”
Nick nodded meekly. Was this actually happening right now? Like, this wasn’t really just a dream, right?
Jamal sidled up close to his bro. “Well, in that case, maybe we should give Levi what he wants?” He placed a hand on Nick’s thigh.
Nick felt his cock pulse at his bro’s touch. “I don’t know, man. It still feels kinda weird. We’ve known each other for like forever.”
“Exactly,” Jamal replied, starting to caress Nick’s leg. “And now’s our chance to get to know each other even better.” He tossed Nick a wink. “What do you say?”
Nick bit his lip thoughtfully. If he and Jamal crossed this line, there’d be no going back. Not now, not ever.
“I say,” Nick finally replied, “bring it on, bro.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Scared Stiff, Part 4
A Spicy M/M Horror-Comedy Romance
Damn, was this mind-blowing.
Henry’s ropework held fast against Levi’s chest as he exhaled slowly. Hopefully, the woodsman would get rid of his visitor out front quickly—because this was exactly the kind of release that he and his bros had been craving from this camping trip.
The thought gave him pause. His bros. He wondered if those two stallions had gotten it on yet.
A smile glowed on his face. Pretending to have been carried off by The Boner Killer to trick his two best buds into fucking each other’s brains out in an attempt to lure the sex-crazed psychopath back was the best idea he’d ever had.
And although there had been that moment when he’d almost believed he might really have been carried off by The Boner Killer, it was clear to see now that it had just been his paranoia getting the best of him. Thank God he’d come to his senses.
Suddenly, a voice outside reached his ears. “All right, Hank, come out with your hands up.”
Levi quirked his head. Hank? There was no Hank here. Maybe the voice meant Henry? But why would…
And then it hit him. He could almost hear the radio bulletin still playing in his head.
He swallowed a gulp. Oh, dear, he thought to himself.
* * *
“So, uh, how do you want to do this?” Sitting in the tent with Jamal, Nick felt his heart pound inside his throat. He’d always fantasized about taking things to the next level with Jamal. Still, the rules of bro code were clear.
Bros were strictly off-limits—no ifs, ands, or buts—or, for that matter, butts.
Was that about to stop them, though? Fuck, no. Now that Nick knew Jamal had been fantasizing about this just as much as—or possibly even more than—he himself, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to back down now.
He and Jamal were about to cross over a threshold there’d be no coming back from.
And Nick couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been so excited.
“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Jamal answered. “This is about exploring, right?”
Nick certainly had no objections to that. “Why don’t you show me what you got, then, bro?”
Jamal licked his lips. “You sure don’t need to ask me twice.”
* * *
Levi spiraled into panic. This had to have been the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
What had he been thinking? Letting some stranger lead him back to his secluded, isolated, undisclosed cabin in the woods to tie him up like a pig about to be spit roasted? And not in the fun way.
But Henry—well, Hank—was so hot. Who would have imagined he was secretly a killer? Those beefy arms, those tree trunk thighs, those pecs you could just bury yourself between…
Apparently, Hank’s time in the big house had not been wasted.
All right, Levi, he consoled himself, don’t panic. You got yourself into this, and you can get yourself out.
This had all happened because of that stupid prank. If he hadn’t faked his disappearance, he’d never have run into Hank, and if he hadn’t run into Hank, he’d never have started blowing him in the woods, and if he hadn’t started blowing him in the woods, he’d never have followed him back to this cabin, and if he hadn’t followed him back to this cabin, he wouldn’t be trapped here right now like an imbecilic bovine about to pay a visit to the butcher.
How would Hank do it? Hopefully, he’d get it over with quickly. Not like in those horror movies where the killer drew it out, torturing his victims until they begged for the sweet release of death.
Maybe Levi could reason with him. Yes, that was it. Even a hardened killer had to have a heart deep down…right?
He blew out a sigh. Who am I kidding? This guy built a career on hacking gay dudes to bits. What would Levi say that Hank hadn’t heard a dozen times before?
He swallowed a lump in his throat. Perhaps it was time to admit it.
Levi was going to die tonight.
He shook himself out of it. Hold up. The police are out front—they aren’t going to let you die, Levi. Granted, you’ll be found in an admittedly compromising tableau, but what’s a little embarrassment compared to getting hacked into meat scraps?
Unfortunately, his relief proved to be short-lived. The very next moment, Hank’s familiar voice boomed outside the bedroom door.
“So, you want me to put my hands up, eh? How’s this?”
Levi registered the sound of the front door swinging open, followed by the policeman’s blood-curdling scream, followed in turn by the unmistakable thwack of an ax lodging into a murder victim’s brain.
Well, at least that cleared up one thing. Apparently, The Boner Killer liked to work fast.
Levi writhed against his binds. These ropes couldn’t really be that tight.
Unfortunately, to his chagrin, they could—and as a matter of fact, they were.
He released a defeated sigh. Clearly, Hank clearly knew what he was doing when it came to rope bondage.
Which, under normal circumstances, would have given Levi chills. But considering the situation…well, it still gave him chills, just not the kind he wanted.
“Oh, Leviiiii,” Hank’s voice called through the bedroom door. “Ready for me to finish you off?”
Levi felt his blood become ice. He had to get out of here.
And he had to do it now.
His eyes searched the room for an escape. He felt his chest lighten. The window! He could escape out the window.
Scratch that, he realized. With his hands still bound behind his back, he might as well have attempted a juggling act as try to open a window.
“Oh, Leviiiii,” Hank’s bone-chilling voice, even closer this time, repeated outside the door. “Don’t be frightened. I promise I’ve had lots of practice.” A twisted laugh followed.
It was in that moment that the truth sunk in for Levi. He was, he realized, trapped.
And any moment now, he’d be standing face-to-face with The Boner Killer coming in through the bedroom door.
* * *
Meanwhile, Nick and Jamal had found themselves face-to-face in another way entirely.
It started off slow—Jamal leaning in to close the space separating them. And the more the distance between the two bros shrunk, the more the pair felt other regions start to grow.
A current of electricity encircled them inside the tent. It was as if the charge was building off their two approaching bodies, like an incomplete circuit finally about to be fulfilled.
And when their lips touched, Nick could have sworn in that moment that a spark had lit between them.
Jamal kissed greedily, ravenously—as if he was sampling the juices of the forbidden fruit.
Which, in a manner of speaking, he was.
And Nick couldn’t have been happier to oblige.
Jamal kissed with just the right pressure, just the right aggression. He closed his teeth on Nick’s lower lip.
Submitting, Nick let himself melt into his bro. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this fantasy would come true.
And frankly, the real thing was even better than his imagination. To think that all this time, this was what Nick had been missing out on. All because he’d simply been afraid to admit how he felt toward his bro.
Well, that ended tonight. Tonight, Nick intended to make up for lost time.
And with how much catching up they had to do, there wasn’t a moment to waste.
“Fuck, Jamal. I had no idea you were so…sexual.”
“Bro, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
The comment made Nick’s toes curl. “Well, if this is just the beginning, I can’t wait to see what comes next.”
Nick’s wish was Jamal’s command. Lowering himself down, he placed a gentle kiss on each of Nick’s nipples.
And that was when Nick realized this was shaping to be quite possibly the best sex of his life.
“Jesus, Jamal. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Jamal replied. “Because I was about to say the same thing to you.”
A smile lit up Nick’s face. Yep—tonight was going to be a night to remember. Levi’s devious, harebrained scheme had actually paid off.
And Nick couldn’t have been more grateful.
“Hey,” he said, “what do you say we take things up a notch?”
Jamal quirked an eyebrow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
* * *
A din rocked the cabin as the bedroom door burst open. Blood-soaked ax in hand, The Boner Killer thudded across the threshold.
Confusion clouded his face, though, at the sight that lay before him. “What the…?”
His would-be victim was…missing?
Dumbfounded, The Boner Killer stormed across the bedroom. Bed pillows tumbled, curtains flew, but no matter where the killer searched, his prey was nowhere to be found.
He scratched his head, stupefied. Where could Levi have gone? The windows were still locked. The only door was the one he’d just entered through.
Still, Levi must have gotten out somehow.
Spinning around, Hank bolted for the door. No one escaped The Boner Killer.
A stillness fell over the room as the ax man faded into the distance.
A stillness, that is, except for a small, quiet scuffing beneath the bed.
“Phew, was that a close one.” Levi poked his head out from behind the bed skirt.
Grunting, he shimmied out onto the floor and stood to his feet. That had been way too close for comfort.
He still couldn’t really believe it. Henry, The Boner Killer? Who would have guessed such a bona fide heartthrob could actually be a hardened criminal?
And Levi, in his infinite wisdom, had walked right into his trap.
He felt like an idiot. The fact that he was still tied in knots like a kindergartner’s shoelaces didn’t help, either.
To make matters worse, it wasn’t just himself he’d put at risk. With The Boner Killer out on a rampage, Nick and Jamal were sitting ducks.
He had to warn them. If his little scheme had worked, his two bros were getting it on like a couple of porn stars right now.
Making them perfect fits for The Boner Killer’s calling card.
You have to fix this, Levi.
How, well, that part he’d have to improvise.
Cautious, he took stock of his surroundings. He only had one chance to make his escape. Even a hint of noise risked giving himself away.
His arm hairs stood on end. It seemed to be safe. But could he be certain The Boner Killer had really left?
There was only one way to find out. Fleeing like a proverbial bat out of hell, Levi bolted through the left-open door and out into the night.
* * *
Nick felt his heartbeat pound as he eyed Jamal’s fat cock before him. In all their years of friendship, never had he been so close—be it physically or emotionally—to his bro.
The appendage stood straight in the air. Just the sight of it made Nick’s mouth begin to water.
Which was a good thing, too, because with the blowjob he had planned, he was going to need plenty of lubrication.
Jamal rubbed his bro’s cheek, just inches away from his manhood. “You hungry for my cock, babe?”
Nick nodded like he was eyeing a feast set out before him. “I’m starving for it, bro.”
Jamal nodded approvingly. “Then why don’t you give it a taste?”
The words sent a thrill across Nick’s system. Reaching out, he gripped the base of Jamal’s shaft. The hard-on twitched with pleasure, a sensation that, judging by the way Jamal’s body writhed the next moment, had rippled across his body.
“Fuck,” Jamal sighed, “your grip feels perfect on my cock.”
Nick grinned inwardly at the encouragement. The feeling was definitely mutual—the sensation of holding his bro’s rod in his hand was nothing short of sublime.
It was even bigger than he’d first realized—and not just in length. Nick’s fingers didn’t come close to meeting when he wrapped his hand around the member’s girth.
Truth be told, it was a little intimidating.
But Nick was never one to back down from a challenge.
Slowly, he felt his way up and down the monster shaft. A surge of heat rose in his chest as he milked the cock lovingly.
Jamal’s erection was thickest at the base. Along its length, the pole gradually tapered to a prominent, uncut head. A thick, pulsating vein ran from hilt to tip.
“It’s not gonna suck itself, you know.”
An excellent point, Nick thought to himself. Licking his lips, he prepared for the moment he’d dreamed of.
“All right,” he said, “here goes.”
He opened his mouth wide. Hopefully his bro’s meat wouldn’t dislocate his jaw.
A brief pause ensued. Was Nick in fact nervous to give Jamal a blowjob?
This wasn’t just any cock, he realized. This was his bro’s cock. The paragon of cocks. The crown jewel of cocks. The Holy Grail of cocks.
Jamal seemed to sense his bro’s hesitation. He tousled his hair playfully. “Don’t worry, man. I know you can do it.”
Encouraged, Nick hawked a wad of spit onto his bro’s dick. The whole shaft glistened as he worked to spread his saliva across its surface.
“Fuck, babe,” Jamal moaned, his body squirming under Nick’s control.
It was just the affirmation Nick needed. Drawing himself in close, one hand on Jamal’s dick, the other on his own, Nick touched his tongue to the tip of Jamal’s manhood.
“Fuuuck, Nick.”
Nick could feel Jamal’s full-body tremors reverberate at the site of his cockhead. The wave of electricity proceeded to course through his own body, almost as if Jamal’s member had conducted the charge from one bro to another.
He twirled his tongue against the tip. Before long, he was slurping as if Jamal’s cock gave him a whole new life.
And maybe, perhaps, it did. After all, there’d be no going back to just bros after this. Now that he’d had Jamal’s most intimate body part inside him, they were embarking on a whole new chapter of bro-hood.
That chapter being…well, it was hard to say. Jamal was already taken by Levi, obviously. But it was impossible to deny that all of them were sharing a deeper connection now. Could it have been that the trio were becoming something…more?
Oh, boy. Nothing like having an existential breakdown with your best friend’s dick in your mouth.
He’d have to unpack his thoughts later. Right now, he had other priorities to attend to.
Widening his jaw, he prepared to welcome more of Jamal’s manhood into his kisser. The fat sausage stretched his lips tight, opening his mouth bigger than Nick ever thought possible.
Jamal had just made it halfway in when he triggered his bro’s gag reflex. Yanking his head free, Nick turned away to cough.
“Fuck, bro,” Jamal said, impressed. “You’re not so bad at this.”
Nick arched an eyebrow. Not so bad? That was all Jamal had to say? Nick could do better than not so bad.
He lobbed a wad of spit on Jamal’s dick. Time to show his bro just what he was capable of.
* * *
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Levi cursed under his breath as he zigzagged between the trees. Weaving his way through this forest was like trying to run an obstacle course, and that wasn’t even counting the fact that he was still trapped inside a makeshift straitjacket like Houdini about to perform an escape act.
He didn’t care how hot and heavy it had gotten him earlier. Levi was never going to experiment with rope play again.
He paused in his tracks. Where exactly was their campsite from here? It couldn’t possibly have been that far away.
Pondering, he turned his head to the sky. There was a full moon out tonight. The glow it cast on the bare autumn tree branches sent shivers down his spine. Time was running out if he still hoped to save his bros. He wondered where The Boner Killer was right now.
No sooner had the question entered his head than the universe supplied the answer.
A jolt of terror shot up Levi’s spine as, just through the trees behind him, there came the rustle of approaching footsteps. Ducking for cover, he dove into a nearby patch of bushes.
And not a moment too soon, either. The next thing Levi knew, he was laying eyes on Hank trudging toward him.
All of his body froze as, just feet from his hiding spot, The Boner Killer came to a halt.
Fuck, Levi thought to himself. Hank knew he was here. He swallowed a heavy gulp as, right at his eye level from inside the bushes, The Boner Killer’s ax blade dripped with the sheriff’s blood.
A chill gripped his bones. That could be his hemoglobin before this night was through.
He held his breath in silence as The Boner Killer took stock of his surroundings. Maybe Hank didn’t know Levi was here. But if the killer’s reason for stopping wasn’t to polish off his latest victim, what, then, was he doing?
The next thing Levi knew, he was watching Hank reach around to his rear. From out of his back pocket, there appeared a black ski mask.
I don’t think that’s for hitting the slopes, Levi thought to himself as he watched Hank pull the mask down over his face.
Maybe, though, this was a good thing for his bros’ survival odds. After all, certainly an approaching masked figure would be cause for concern. Nick and Jamal were smart enough to know danger when they saw it coming.
Just so long as they did see it coming, Levi realized as he watched The Boner Killer take off into the night.
A sigh of relief escaped him. He may have been safe for now, but likely not for long. He had to find his bros so they could high-tail it out of here before it was too late.
* * *
A heavy strand of drool stretched out as Nick pulled his head from Jamal’s cock.
“OK,” Jamal conceded, still in blissful nirvana, “you officially know what you’re doing down there.”
Nick wiped the spit from his mouth. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of practice.”
Jamal chuckled lightly. “I suppose I ought to return the favor, huh?”
The suggestion seemed to give Nick pause. “I don’t know, man. I’m so turned on right now, I’m worried that if you blow me, I might not be able to stop myself from cumming.”
Jamal shook his head, amused. “Oh, Nicky. I wasn’t talking about a blowjob.” Without warning, he seized his bro at the hips and spun him around forcefully. He proceeded to give the juicy ass before him a heavy-handed slap. “Fuck, man, you’ve got a pretty hole.”
It was all Nick could manage to sputter incoherently. He definitely hadn’t seen this one coming.
Not that he was complaining. He most certainly wasn’t complaining.
“You like that ass?” he asked, finally able to muster his words.
Jamal inhaled deep through his nose, savoring the masculine perfume between his bro’s legs. “Fuck, man, you drive me wild.”
Unable to control himself any longer, Jamal plunged his face into Nick’s hindquarters.
“Fuuuck, Jamal.”
A shockwave of pleasure blasted throughout Nick’s body then, the epicenter of bliss zeroed in on his entrance. He moaned, unrestrained. It was like Jamal’s tongue was doing Olympic-grade gymnastics on his tight, pink hole.
“Damn, I can’t wait to be inside you, bro.”
The comment, however, was lost on Nick. He perked up his head. “What’s that?”
Jamal managed to pry himself from Nick’s behind. “Is that OK? I just assumed—”
“No, not you,” Nick clarified. “I thought I heard something.”
“It was probably just a deer,” Jamal surmised, unconcerned. He buried his face back in Nick’s ass.
Nick, however, was not so convinced. A chill tingled inside him that he couldn’t seem to shake—a chill that was decidedly different from the ones Jamal had given him. What if that was The Boner Killer outside? They were, after all, currently engaged in the very activity that was supposed to be the killer’s catnip.
And maybe Jamal wasn’t worried, but Nick for one did not have plans to wind up dead tonight.
Bent over doggie style, he tried to pull himself away from the onslaught of Jamal’s insatiable gorging, but his bro had been hypnotized by lust. Nick realized he had a better chance of freeing himself from King Kong than from his hole-crazed bro right now.
Which, under normal circumstances, would have been flattering, but given their current situation, Jamal’s fixation on his hole was anything, well, but.
Groaning in frustration, he stretched out an arm to unzip their tent as Jamal, somehow still oblivious, continued going to town on him from behind.
Cautious, Nick poked his head outside. The cool, piney air prickled against his skin. A chorus of crickets chirped peacefully in the distance. All seemed in order for a calm forest night.
Except, that is, for the pair of eyes looking back at him from the edge of their campsite.
His heart skipped a beat. “Jamal?” He squirmed as his bud’s tongue gave his hole sensations he didn’t know were possible.
“Jamal!” he repeated, this time more urgently. Reaching around, he grabbed at his bro to pull quite literally his head from out of his ass. “We’ve got company.” He pointed toward the eyes.
Jamal arched an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. Looks like we have ourselves an audience.”
“Yeah!” Nick countered in disbelief. “An audience that’s got plans to carve us up like a couple of Christmas hams.”
Jamal chuckled lightly. “That’s not The Boner Killer, silly. That’s clearly just Levi carrying on with his little prank.” A mischievous grin lit up his face. “Let’s play along.”
Nick’s eyes widened in horror. “Let’s what?”
“Sure,” Jamal replied. “You know, make him think he’s actually given us a scare.”
Nick swallowed hard at the two eyes watching them through the dark. “I don’t know, man. Seems a little…risky, don’t you think?”
“Nah, don’t be a worry wort.” He gave Nick’s ass another slap as he stood to his feet. “This’ll be fun.”
The sight of Jamal emerging from their tent, though, struck Nick with a terrible feeling that fun might in fact be the last way to describe what awaited them.
* * *
“Hey, is somebody out here?” Buck naked, Jamal ventured across their campsite like something out of a B-movie horror flick.
Timidly, Nick followed his bro from a distance. “Cut it out, Jamal. I’m really starting to worry about not getting killed.”
Jamal gestured dismissively. “Trust me, the moment you see whatever getup Levi’s chosen to play dress-up in, what you’re going to be worried about is keeping a straight face.”
Or so he thought.
“Jesus Christ!” Jamal recoiled in shock as their visitor emerged from the trees. “You really do look just like—” He stopped himself short before he said too much.
Silent, the masked Hank loomed before them motionless, ax in-hand dripping blood on the ground.
Jamal spun around to face Nick. “It’s The Boner Killer!” He tossed his bro a wink before twisting back to their visitor. “Please don’t hurt us!” He threw himself to his knees in submission.
A beat of silence followed, filled with a flurry of beats from Nick’s pounding-like-a-jackhammer heart. Jamal better have known what he was doing.
“We confess! You caught us red-handed,” Jamal dramatized. “You found us fooling around with our thick, hard cocks.” He drew out the words for emphasis.
Nick swallowed hard as Jamal gave him another wink.
“And to make matters worse,” Jamal continued to improv, “we broke bro code!” He threw up his arms in mock distress. “You see, Mister Ax Man, me and Nick here have been buds since forever. I guess after all this time, we just couldn’t resist anymore. Promise you won’t tell my boyfriend?”
Another wink at Nick went unseen by Hank.
Redoubling, Jamal pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “Listen, I’m not going to beg for you to spare us, but perhaps you’d grant a dying man his last wish and do us a little favor?” He arched a scheming eyebrow. “Before you finish us off, sir, perhaps you’d let us, well, finish each other off?” He bit his lip seductively. “It’s just that my boyfriend has been wanting the two of us to fuck for ages, and I just know that, if tonight is all my buddy Nick and I have left in this world, it would really mean a lot to him to know we died happy.”
Still knelt at Hank’s feet, Jamal flexed his pecs for good measure. “And, hey, it’s not exactly a bad deal for you, either. It isn’t every day a guy gets a front row seat to two donkey-dick dudes fucking each other like it’s the last thing they’ll ever do. So, what do you say?” He gripped his hard cock and slapped it against his opposite palm.
The Boner Killer just stood speechless.
A roguish grin flashed on Jamal’s face. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Standing to his feet, he leaned in close to the killer’s ski mask. “Just remember, not a word about this to…my boyfriend.” He sauntered over to Nick to begin the forbidden show.
His bro’s voice trembled as he whispered into Jamal’s ear. “You sure this is a good idea, man? It really feels like something’s off here.”
“Relax, Nick,” Jamal whispered back. “Don’t you want to give Levi what he’s been horny for all this time?”
Nick stole a glance at the incognito voyeur observing them. “Just as long as that really is Levi under that mask.” He swallowed a gulp.
“Bro, don’t worry.” He spun his bud around. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”
And thus, face on the ground, ass in the air, Nick knelt over prostrate in preparation for Jamal. If someone had told him that this was how their wilderness trip would progress, he wouldn’t have believed it for all the money in the world.
But now that it was actually happening, he had to admit the truth. This was seriously H-O-T hot.
He exhaled a sigh. Fine, Jamal was right. Nick was just being paranoid. Of course their spectator was only Levi. The Boner Killer was probably halfway to Mexico under a fake identity by now.
All right, Nick, he pep-talked himself, let’s do this. Let’s give your bro the sex-pig show of his dreams.
His toes curled with pleasure as Jamal slapped his cockhead against the outside of his hole. It was quickly followed, though, by a wave of apprehension. While it was true his bud had given his ass a five-star warmup back inside the tent, thanks to his nerves over performing in front of Levi, it was also true that his hole had tightened once again like he was practically a virgin.
And with how many cocks he’d taken since that status had been true, that was really saying something.
Jamal flung a wad of spit at his dick, lubing up his shaft in eager anticipation. “Just breathe, bro.” His voice was calming, unworried.
“Whatever you say, bro.” Nick exhaled in an attempt to relax.
Silent, The Boner Killer looked on as Jamal mounted Nick from behind. It was as if the whole forest had fallen still just for them.
“All right, bud,” Jamal finally announced, “here I go.” He pressed his cockhead firmly against Nick’s threshold. “This might hurt at first, but I promise it won’t last long.”
Nick had meant to respond, but just as he was about to open his mouth, his voice decided to abandon him.
A shockwave of force rippled throughout his body as Jamal’s cock made its entrance. It felt like the two of them had just broken the sound barrier.
Which, given the barrier they really had just broken, it was perhaps a fitting comparison.
“How’s that feel?” The head of Jamal’s cock sat just inside Nick’s entrance. The rest of his shaft, though, had yet to penetrate.
“Fuck, man,” Nick winced with ragged breath. “Your dick is fucking huge.”
Jamal quirked an eyebrow at their onlooker. “I think Nick here likes this, wouldn’t you say?” With that, he turned his attention back to his bro. Breathing in deep, he positioned himself closer for leverage. His hands tightened firmly around Nick’s slender hips.
“All right, bro. It’s showtime.”
With a powerful thrust, he drove the full length of his cock into Nick’s hole. All around, the forest practically shook with the moan that burst from Nick’s mouth.
He felt his heart race at the thrill of Jamal’s cock inside him. That big, fat piece of meat was stretching him like he didn’t know it was possible for a man to be stretched.
Bucking his hips against his bro, Jamal tossed his head backward in bliss. Nick’s hole was unbelievable. Wet, warm, tight. The silky smooth feeling of his cock gliding bare against Nick’s welcoming flesh sent full-body chills tingling across Jamal’s system.
Hopefully Levi was enjoying watching this show as much as he was enjoying giving it, Jamal thought to himself.
And just like that, he was struck with an idea.
He pulled himself out of Nick’s hole. “You know what,” he said with a smirk, “maybe you ought to join us.”
The Boner Killer’s face, though hidden underneath his ski mask, went blank with confusion.
“Come on,” Jamal encouraged. “It can’t be every day your impending victims invite you to play along? This could be a valuable opportunity.” He tossed another wink at Nick as he began to pull down the killer’s pants. “And don’t worry about the ski mask, I’m not gonna make you take that off. It’s actually kinda hot, come to think of it.”
Opening Hank’s fly, Jamal recoiled to avoid losing an eye. “Jesus, someone’s sure turned on. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your dick this big.”
The Boner Killer just cocked his head.
And quickly, Jamal realized his gaffe. He scrambled to backpedal. “A dick, I mean. I’ve never seen a dick this big.” Greedily, he grabbed the hulking shaft with both hands.
“Hey, don’t hog all the fun.” Joining Jamal at Hank’s feet, Nick added his hands to the glorious cock. It was as if their bro’s member grown in a matter of hours.
Nick found himself entranced. “Out of the way.” He pushed Jamal aside. Spinning around, he positioned his hole against the tip of Hank’s cock.
It went in effortlessly.
“Fuuuck,” Nick moaned as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Standing with Hank behind him, Nick slammed his ass against the woodsman, driving his cock as deep as it could go.
“Damn,” Jamal supplied. “Now that is fucking hot.” He bit his lip lustfully. “But I think I’ve got an idea that’ll make this even hotter.”
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Nick asked as Jamal, standing with their chests pressed together, lifted him by his thighs.
“Think there’s room for one more in there, bro?” Jamal positioned his erection under Nick’s ass where Hank’s anaconda was still thrusting in and out.
A look of uncertainty came over Nick then. “You want to…D.P. me?”
“You ever done that before?”
Nick shook his head.
“You want to give it a try?”
The rhythm of Hank’s cock pummeling Nick’s eager, hungry hole kept the beat as the receiver considered his response.
“Let’s do it.”
A devilish grin twisted the corners of Jamal’s mouth. “Fuck, this is gonna be hot.”
Just outside Nick’s threshold, the sensation of Hank’s thrusting shaft brushing up against Jamal’s sensitive cockhead lit up his face with bliss. The thought of his boyfriend enjoying the same tight, warm hole that he himself had just been relishing only moments ago sent a wave of heat through his body.
And now, they were about to enjoy it together. Two bros-turned-boyfriends, united inside the only other person Jamal was beginning to suspect they might in fact care about just as much as each other.
“Here goes,” Jamal announced.
A loud moan—not quite pleasure, but not quite pain—escaped from Nick then. Just when he thought his hole had already been stretched to its limit, here was Jamal proving him wrong.
“Just breathe,” bro,” Jamal said as he eased his cock in while Hank continued pummeling at full speed.
Looking his bro in the eyes, Nick nodded obediently. He inhaled calmly, then blew out a long, slow breath.
And Jamal released a moan like he’d never released before. Pressed alongside Hank’s thickness, his rod slid smoothly inside his bro.
“Fuck, man. You did it. You’re doing it.”
Thus, standing body-to-body, Jamal holding Nick off the ground by his flanks, Nick hugging Jamal at his shoulders, and Hank supporting Nick’s weight from behind as their two fat cocks pumped blissfully together, the trio began to fuck.
And it was fucking euphoric.
“Fuck, your hole is squeezing our dicks tight.”
“Fuck, your dicks are stretching my hole wide.”
At first, Nick had worried that reality wouldn’t live up to the fantasy he’d always imagined—but clearly, his fears had been unwarranted. His best friend, his best friend’s boyfriend, dick-to-dick inside him. The thought was enough to make him…
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”
No sooner had the cry left his mouth than, with a forceful pulse, his cock shot a thick, creamy stream of semen against Jamal’s chest. The warmth of the load on his skin brought a smile to Jamal’s face.
And a heaviness to his sack. It wouldn’t be long for him either. Balls swinging freely, he increased the speed of his thrusts.
“Give me that load, Jamal,” Nick pleaded. “Give me your load.”
His wish was Jamal’s command. “Fucking take my load, Nick.”
A cry of ecstasy burst out of Nick’s mouth as he took in the warmth of Jamal’s seed shooting inside him.
Jamal continued pumping his deposit into Nick as he turned to the ski-masked face before him. “All right, dude. Your turn.”
Hank tightened his grip on Nick’s hips and increased his power to overdrive.
“Fuck, man,” Jamal said. “I had no idea you could fuck like that.”
With full-length thrusts, Hank slammed his meat into Nick’s cum-filled hole.
“Wow,” Jamal said, his heart rate escalating. “Where has this side of you been hiding?”
Hank’s only response came in the form of a long, aggressive growl as he released a flood of cum into Nick’s ass.
“Jesus Christ, Levi,” Nick said. “That was amazing.”
The Boner Killer cocked his head.
Jamal tossed back a laugh. “OK, Levi. The jig is up. We knew it was you all along.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than, suddenly, a frantic figure burst through the trees.
Jamal’s eyes opened wide at his boyfriend, naked and laced up in ropes, standing before them. “Levi?”
Panting, Levi cocked his head at the scene he’d stumbled onto—Nick, naked as a jaybird, with feet dangling off the ground and cum dripping out of his ass, sandwiched body-to-body between his boyfriend and stranger in a ski mask that he recognized instantly.
“Well, it appears my little scheme paid off.”
Now it was Nick’s turn to chime in. “Levi, if you’re over there, then who, might I ask, has their dick shoved inside me right now?”
Without missing a beat, Jamal yanked the ski mask from their newfound sex fiend’s face. “Henry?”
Levi shook his head. “Not Henry, Jamal. His real name is…”
“The Boner Killer,” Hank completed.
Simultaneously, the trio of bros gulped in fear.
“Run!”
You would have needed to listen closely, but if you had, then miles away at the edge of the forest, you just might have heard that night the faint but frantic screams of three unsuspecting bros running pell-mell through the woods—almost as if they’d been scared, well, stiff.
Love at First Loincloth, Part 1
A Spicy M/M Fantasy Adventure Romance
“It’s still not too late to back out, you know.”
Oliver chose to ignore the pity he detected in the Captain’s voice. “Back out? After a decade of research? Not a chance! Besides, this could turn out to be the most important scientific expedition of the nineteenth century!”
“It’s certainly the most dangerous of the nineteenth century.” A stiffness gripped the Captain as he peered out over the edge of his ship’s upper deck.
Oliver tracked the Captain’s gaze to the horizon, where the African shoreline was now coming into view. He felt a shiver run through his veins but decided to chalk it up to the biting sea air. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ve read all there is to know about the jungle. No one—and I mean no one—is better prepared for this than me.” He plucked his knapsack off the deck and flung it over his shoulder as if to prove his competence.
Unfortunately, it was the opposite that was proven then as the motion launched the unfastened bag’s contents airborne and over the side of the ship.
Oliver grit his teeth as he craned his neck overboard to watch his belongings in freefall toward the churning water below. “Oh, pish posh. This is what I’ve got Dash for, isn’t it? I mean, really, what good is it being lovers with a muscle-bound man’s man if he can’t be your private jungle guide?”
Almost as if on cue, a voice broke out from across the deck. “Damn it, Oliver!”
“No need to fret,” the Captain cut in. “I know how to spot two traveling companions when I see them. And rest assured, your secret’s safe with me.” He touched a finger to his nose for emphasis.
The assurance, however, did little to calm Dash’s temper as he joined them at the edge of the deck. “Thanks, Cap, but let me handle this, OK?” He turned his attention to his lover. “How many times do I have to tell you, Oliver? You’ve got to be more careful. Have you forgotten what happens when you go flapping your lips like that? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what you had coming to you—”
“I know, Dash,” Oliver inserted. “You’ve made it clear before what I ‘had coming to me’ if you hadn’t come to my rescue that night. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank my lucky stars that I met you when I did.” He shuddered as the painful memory flashed before his eyes. “It’s just, don’t you ever wish…wouldn’t it be nice, I mean…” A heavyhearted sigh escaped him. “Oh, never mind. This is no time to wallow. We’ve got an exciting adventure ahead of us, Dash. An adventure of scientific discovery.”
An accidental snort slipped out from Dash then. “Academics. I’ll never understand your kind.”
Oliver arched a hesitant eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All you nerds care about,” Dash went on, “is coming up with new things you can be the first to find, the first to prove—and for what? So you can brag about it to some other eggheads? So you can win a gold star from some university journal?”
Well, maybe I should start caring about those things, Oliver wanted to reply, seeing as I’m apparently such a loser compared to you.
Instead what came out was, “It’s not like that for me.”
The comment earned him a laugh. “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. My starry-eyed, rose-tinted Oliver. Of course it’s like that—it’s exactly like that. There’s no use pretending with me. I mean, come on. I’d think after all this time, I ought to know you better than that.”
Oliver slumped his shoulders. You’d think so, wouldn’t you?
“But really,” Dash went on. “Apes? You actually want to study those big, dumb oafs?”
Well, what can I say, quipped a voice inside Oliver’s head, I guess I just like sticking to what I know.
He nearly did a double take at himself then. Where had that come from?
“If you ask me,” continued Dash, none the wiser, “all this trip of yours is…is a whole lot of monkey business.” He chuckled at his joke.
An awkward silence ensued, broken finally by a throat-clearing from the Captain that was entirely unconvincing. “Well, this is as close to shore as we get. So, assuming you still haven’t changed your mind, this would be your stop.” He slapped the hull of the dinghy suspended next to them over the edge of the ship. “All ashore that’s going ashore.”
Like a kid on Christmas, Oliver scampered his way into the vessel, followed closely, if considerably less gleefully, by Dash.
“Now, remember,” said the Captain as he began to lower them down, “I’m doing you a favor by letting you tag along on this ship. Once the crew and I collect our cargo in Cape Town, our return journey will follow this same path back up the coast in precisely one week’s time. So, if you don’t want to miss your ride home to England, I’d advise you not to be late.”
Oliver signaled his understanding with a nod. The Captain’s warning had been somber, but even so, nothing could have dampened his excitement for the journey of discovery that awaited.
* * *
“Oh, my stars. It’s Combretum rotundifolium!” Oliver practically pranced as he followed the path Dash was hacking for them through the jungle underbrush.
Their dinghy trip ashore had passed without incident. Of course, it was only the first leg of what promised to be a challenging journey ahead, but it certainly felt good to be off to a strong start. If Oliver had hopes of unlocking the mysteries of the great ape, he’d need to observe them in their natural habitat—deep in the heart of the untamed jungle.
No scientist had ever dared to venture so deep into this uncharted terrain. It was true what the Captain had said—about this being such a dangerous expedition. But no risk was too great in the name of scientific exploration.
Hardly anything was truly known about the mysterious great ape. And without the light of truth, lies had run amok. Even among scientists—learned men who had no excuse for not knowing better—apes were reviled as dangerous, aggressive beasts. But based on Oliver’s studies, that stereotype had some serious holes in it. Apes weren’t monsters—they were merely misunderstood.
He certainly could relate. Not a soul back at the university knew about Oliver—about his deviance. And though he knew a future where men could be free to love whomever they chose was still a lifetime away, perhaps if he could show the world, if only through nature, that things weren’t always the way they appeared, then maybe, in his own small way, he could bring a better future just a little closer into reach.
It was no use trying to get Dash to understand that, though. There he goes again, Dash would probably say. Nose in his books and head in the clouds. Honestly, it was probably for the best that Dash thought Oliver was only on this trek to achieve something for his ego. At least that was a motive Dash could appreciate.
Oliver supposed he ought not to be too critical of Dash, though. While he certainly believed the great ape posed no real threat, the same couldn’t be said for the other perils awaiting them in the jungle. He was glad to have Dash at his side for protection.
He stooped down for a closer look at another specimen of foliage. “And this—this is Astrocaryum murumuru!” He ran his fingers in awe along the ample leaves of the tropical palm.
Dash rolled his eyes. “And here,” he parroted up ahead, “is a fine example of who-gives-a-crap-iflorius.” He slashed through a curtain of low-hanging vines with his scythe.
The remark stopped Oliver in his tracks. “You OK up there, sweetie?”
Dash spun around on his heels. “Remind me again why we’re out here sweating our balls off in the middle of the jungle when we could be enjoying a holiday in Mallorca right now?”
“Oh, honey,” Oliver replied in his best sweet-talking voice, “you know they don’t have apes in Mallorca.”
“Exactly,” Dash deadpanned.
Undeterred, Oliver bent down to collect a foliage specimen. “I know this isn’t exactly sandy beaches and fancy dinners, but this is about something even better. This, Dash, could lead to a major scientific discovery!”
If Oliver had meant for his speech to be inspiring, he was unfortunately in for a letdown.
Dash arched a skeptical eyebrow. “By following around some mangy beasts that eat fleas from their own armpits?” Spinning back around, he resumed hacking their path through the foliage.
“Actually,” Oliver explained from behind, “studying other primates can teach us quite a bit about ourselves.”
His comments, however, were lost on Dash, who was fully occupied slashing blindly through the vegetation ahead.
“Humans share much in common with apes, you know.”
No sooner had the words left Oliver’s mouth than a loud, juicy squish reached their ears. Dash looked down in disgust at the sight of his boot standing smack dab in the center of a pile of elephant dung.
“Some of us more than others, I guess.” Oliver bit back a chuckle.
Dash, however, failed to see the humor.
“Sorry, babe,” Oliver attempted to mend. “Just remember, no hardship is too great when it comes to the pursuit of knowledge.” He gestured broadly at their surroundings.
Dash only scoffed bitterly. “Frankly, what I’d rather be pursuing right now is a drink.”
The comment stiffened Oliver instantly. “But you only mean that figuratively, right?”
The next thing Oliver knew, he was watching Dash pull out a flask from his breast pocket. “Dash, we talked about this! You said you decided to quit.”
Dash took a generous swig from the flask. “And now, I’ve decided to un-quit.”
“Please don’t do this to me, Dash. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this trip if you’re under the influence again.”
“Funny you should say that, because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if I’m not.” He downed another nip.
Oliver sighed with resignation. “Please just don’t do anything stupid.”
Just as Dash was about to respond, a swift blur whizzed through the trees. Like a reflex, he whipped out his rifle from over his shoulder.
“Don’t shoot!” Oliver pleaded.
Dash rolled his eyes. “So one of these beasts can attack us first? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. These apes of yours are killers, Oliver.”
Oliver proceeded with caution to the head of Dash’s path. “That was no ape,” he said. “Even at full speed, apes can’t travel half that fast.”
Dash slapped his forehead, exasperated. “Great. So, what is it, then, a tiger?”
Oliver removed his glasses and cleaned them off with his shirt. “Not in this part of the jungle.” Slowly, he peeled back the curtain of vines blocking their view.
Another scoff sounded from Dash. “Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now.” He returned his rifle to its scabbard. “Goddamn jungle. We’d better press on. We still need to find a clearing if we want to set up camp before nightfall.”
Obedient, Oliver followed in Dash’s footsteps, but not before stealing one last gaze into the trees. What could have been spying on them?
* * *
The sun had begun its descent, but at last, their camp was set up.
“You always did know how to pitch a tent.” Oliver waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.
The attempt at a come-on merely earned him a groan. “It’s going to be getting dark soon. I’d better go fetch us some firewood.”
Oliver did his best not to take Dash’s dismissal personally. “I’ll help!”
“I don’t think so,” Dash shot down. “You’ll just get yourself hurt.”
Too late for that, Oliver wanted to say.
“Just let me take care of this.” The tone in Dash’s voice indicated his word was final. “But don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, understood? The last thing I need is you getting yourself lost in the jungle.”
“Not a chance,” Oliver replied. “Not when I have my trusty compass on me.” He reached down his shirt to reveal the timeworn instrument he kept hanging around his neck.
“That hunk of junk?” Dash eyed the compass skeptically. “Tell me you’re joking.” Without further ado, he swiped his ax off the ground. “Now, do me a favor and stay out of trouble, will you? Maybe play with your test tubes or something.” And with that, he disappeared into the trees.
A wave of anger rose in Oliver then. Play with his test tubes? Was that what Dash thought of his work? The fact that studying wildlife didn’t even involve test tubes was beside the point.
It just went to show how truly checked out Dash had become.
He settled himself on a tree stump. What happened to them? Sure, they’d always had their differences—Oliver with his brains, Dash with his brawn—but wasn’t that beside the point when you were meant to be?
The way they’d met certainly felt meant to be.
It had all happened fast, but still, Oliver remembered every moment of the nightmare.
He’d already been nervous that night as it was. Lingering outside Jolly Sally’s was not a place a respectable gentleman wanted to be seen. Everyone knew what type of blokes frequented there. Not that Oliver considered himself much of a barfly, but after what had been a singularly bad day, he’d hoped a visit to London’s watering hole for the open-minded, as it were, might help him find some comfort.
Unfortunately, what found him was the opposite.
They’d come out of nowhere—two thugs from a back alley, Oliver mere steps from entering the pub.
“Fag?” the first had asked.
Oliver could still recall the panic that had coursed through his system then. “Sorry, I don’t smoke.” He’d prayed they’d let it—and himself—go.
“What a coincidence,” the second had replied. “Neither do we.”
The sound of the pair’s knuckles cracking as they’d begun closing in on him then still haunted Oliver’s memory. He’d been moments away from being beaten to a pulp.
Moments away, that is, had it not been for Dash.
“Don’t smoke, eh?” His voice had stopped them cold. “So that stench of yours is natural?”
The brawl hadn’t taken long. The two thugs—and apparently, what Oliver had ‘had coming to him’—were no match for the brute strength Dash possessed.
“You had quite the close shave there, my friend,” Dash had surmised when the melee was over. “A fellow like you ought to have someone looking out for him, don’t you think?”
Evidently, Oliver agreed.
At first, it had been nice—being chosen by a stallion who virtually radiated testosterone. Why a hunk like Dash had settled for a geek like Oliver, he’d never be able to explain. Dash could’ve had his pick of London’s most eligible bachelors.
That is, of London’s most eligible confirmed bachelors, but that was beside the point. All Oliver knew was that he must’ve been the luckiest guy on Earth to have landed a stud like Dash.
Lately, though, that feeling had faded into memory. The dominant side of Dash that had once been Oliver’s safe haven now felt more like a prison. It was as if, ever since Dash had saved Oliver’s life, he’d decided he had the right to run it.
Sure, to the outside world, Oliver was the picture of a promising, up-and-coming scholar. Little did anyone know that deep down, all he really had left inside was a hollowed-out shell.
Looking back, the pattern was clear to see. The longer he’d been with Dash, the less Oliver felt like, well, Oliver.
The question was, was it Dash who had changed…or himself?
He heaved a tired sigh. Deep down, he knew he’d planned this trip with a bigger purpose in mind than simply studying apes. He hadn’t exactly admitted it to himself, but somewhere on a level that couldn’t be explained with figures and facts, a part of Oliver had hoped that perhaps a couple’s getaway—just the two of them and a healthy dose of quality time—would be the reset they needed to get their relationship back on track.
So much for that, he thought to himself. If the first few hours of this trip were any indication, reigniting any spark the two had once shared was the last thing likely to occur during the course of this excursion.
Perhaps it was time to call it quits. Clearly, the two of them weren’t happy anymore.
It wasn’t like he could just walk away, though. Dash would never stand for it. And even if Oliver did manage to get away, what kind of future would he have waiting for him? Dash was right, after all. Oliver was lucky indeed to have met him. Not just because Dash had saved him for leaving Jolly Sally’s on a gurney. Who else would be willing to look past Oliver’s geeky, bumbling exterior the way Dash did?
There was no arguing with reason. Sure, their romance had fizzled. But it certainly beat the alternative. If there was anything Oliver feared more than a lifetime of being stuck with Dash, it was a lifetime of being stuck alone.
And besides, things weren’t that bad. He’d always have his love for science. And for Oliver, that kind of love was more than enough.
Right?
Before he could entertain the thought further, though, Oliver found himself suddenly distracted. It lasted but a moment, and it was only from the corner of his eye, but all the same, the sight was unmistakable. A swift blur of motion through the trees, just like he’d seen before.
He bit his lip in thought. Once was strange enough, but after two sightings in a row, it couldn’t have been just a coincidence. Something was following them.
Energized, he jumped to his feet. Whatever was out there, Oliver wasn’t about to let it get away again.
He was about to launch into hot pursuit when suddenly, a flicker of guilt gave him pause. Hadn’t Dash told him not to go anywhere? Hadn’t Dash said he’d only end up getting himself hurt?
He shook his head clear. Dash had said a lot of things lately, and Oliver for one had had just about enough of it. If Dash thought he was just some poor, defenseless wimp without a big, strong man around, then Dash had another thing coming. He’d show that meathead he wasn’t afraid to take matters into his own hands.
And without so much as another moment’s delay, Oliver took off into the jungle.
* * *
Oliver hadn’t been searching for more than a few minutes, but already he’d begun losing hope. With how quickly the object of his pursuit could travel, it was probably halfway across the jungle by now.
He exhaled a sigh. So much for proving to Dash that he wasn’t just some egghead.
His shoulders slumped in disappointment when suddenly, he perked up with an idea. Perhaps his mystery animal had left tracks. Sure, that wouldn’t be as thrilling as a live sighting, but perhaps if the creature had left a trail, at least Oliver might be able to guess at its identity.
Scratch that, he realized as he discovered there wasn’t so much as a print to be found anywhere.
He propped his hands on his hips to contemplate. How was that possible? Surely, whatever had been here must have left evidence behind on the ground somewhere. It wasn’t as if the blasted brute could have been swinging from the treetops.
He exhaled a sigh of resignation. There was no point trying to take this any further. His little investigation had officially devolved into nothing but a wild goose chase.
Defeated, he spun around to return to camp…which was what direction, exactly? He swallowed a gulp. Shit.
A ray of hope lit up in him then. Not to worry, he told himself. He still had his trusty compass, didn’t he? He pulled it out from under his shirt.
Damnit. There was one small problem with compasses, Oliver realized. They only pointed you in the right direction if you knew which direction was, indeed, right. North, South, East, West—he didn’t have a clue which way led back to camp. He stuffed the useless tool back down his shirt.
Little did Oliver know, though, that finding himself lost in the jungle was about to become the least of his worries. Not a moment later, his ears perked up at a faint rustle through the trees. The rustle of a predator.
A predator stalking its prey.
His blood iced over instantly. You’ve sure done it this time, Oliver, he cursed himself in his head. He and his big ideas. Teach Dash a lesson? Show him what he was made of? Prove to that good-for-nothing musclehead that Oliver could take care of himself?
Well, actually, if he was being honest, Oliver really could have used that good-for-nothing musclehead right about then.
“FUUUCK!”
Like a bat out of hell, Oliver took off in a burst of panic. Vaulting fallen tree trunks, dodging hanging vines, Oliver bounded through the wilderness. Part of him had almost begun to regret trading the peace and quiet of the university’s research library for the bloodthirst and peril of the jungle. Sure, he’d hoped for some excitement, but running for his life from a hardened jungle predator was more than he had bargained for. He was an academic, for Christ’s sake, not a champion gymnast!
He sucked in a breath as the footfalls behind him grew louder. The beast was gaining ground.
Oliver focused like a machine. Legs pumping, he directed every ounce of strength he could muster toward his single, imperative goal.
Making himself scarce before whatever was behind him took care of that itself.
It seemed to be working. Little by little, the footfalls behind him started fading into the distance. He felt his chest lighten. Perhaps his pursuer was ready to give up the chase. Perhaps Oliver was going to live, after all.
He pushed aside a bushel of palm leaves.
Perhaps his relief had been somewhat premature.
The predator hadn’t slowed down because it had given up, but rather because it knew what lay ahead.
A blind cliff overhang with a hundred-foot sheer drop into river rapids below.
Oliver dug his heels into the ground—and not a moment too soon. Hovering at the edge of the precipice, he felt his stomach twist at the sight of the plunge before him. Another step, and he would have been a goner.
Then again, he was likely still done for, he realized. Whatever maneater had been chasing him was just moments away from emerging through the trees.
He felt his palms sweat. He almost might have preferred taking a swan dive to this.
Steeling his limbs, Oliver braced himself for the end. A wave of terror seized him as the branches before him gave way to a patch of spotted, yellow fur.
Oliver’s words were barely audible. “A leopard.”
The jungle cat approached slowly, confident in its knowledge that its prey had been cornered. Oliver scoffed at his own stupidity. Here he was, an Oxford-educated scholar, outsmarted by an overgrown alley cat.
More accurately, a late Oxford-educated scholar, or at least, that was what he was about to be. He winced at the sight of the leopard licking its chops hungrily.
What a stupid idea, he thought to himself, embarking on this journey into quite possibly the most dangerous terrain known to man when he himself had barely ever so much as skinned a knee without falling to pieces. It turned out a life of academia had left him woefully unprepared for the dangers of this kind of field work.
He heaved a disheartened sigh. Dash had been right. Oliver really was helpless without him. So much for teaching him a lesson.
Heck, Dash would probably even be glad to be rid of Oliver and his incompetence.
He shut his eyes and waited for it all to finally be over.
Crunch, went the jungle floor as the leopard crept menacingly toward him.
Crunch, the rubble sounded again as the predator inched its way closer.
Crunch, the noise beat even stronger as Oliver braced himself for the worst.
But just then, just as Oliver was sure he was done for, another sound reached his ears. A sound that, frankly, he didn’t know what to make of.
It didn’t sound like the call of an animal. It wasn’t quite the cry of a man. It was, however, the loudest, most obnoxious caterwauling Oliver had ever had the displeasure of being subjected to.
Apparently, his leopard friend agreed. Head ducked, the jungle cat lowered its body and cowered on the ground—as if it somehow knew what the phantomlike bellowing meant.
Oliver cocked his head, befuddled. The mighty leopard reigned over the jungle. What on earth could render the predator so terrified?
No sooner had the question entered Oliver’s head than he found himself laying eyes on the answer.
An answer that, frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to believe.
“What the…”
In all his years of study, never had Oliver heard of such a fantastic spectacle.
Unless his eyes were deceiving him, the mysterious bellowing had come from none other than a…a jungle man?
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Dash hadn’t snuck any of his whiskey into Oliver’s canteen, had he?
He sure hoped not, because as the stranger came closer into view, Oliver suddenly found himself possessed with an urge to rub other body parts.
Vocalizing loudly, the jungle man careened his way toward them, swinging effortlessly through the treetops from one vine to the next. Looking on, Oliver almost forgot he was still in fact cornered by a man-eater.
Even as he landed, the jungle man was the picture of splendor. And in more ways than one, Oliver quickly decided. He turned away as he realized he was blushing. The stranger was clad in nothing but a loincloth.
A loincloth that left little to the imagination—especially when it came to what lay underneath, which, judging by the bulge behind the skimpy garment, was in fact anything but little.
Oliver began to feel something growing between his own legs then.
Body glistening, the jungle man stood tall, his sweat giving emphasis to his strong, powerful muscles. He wasn’t quite as bulky as Dash’s beefy build, but still, his athletic frame suited him. Clearly, the jungle man was built for agility.
But it wasn’t just the jungle man’s carved-from-stone physique that had captured Oliver’s attention. For all his physical intensity, his face was, dare Oliver say, beautiful. Deep, sensitive eyes, a soft, exquisite mouth—these were features Oliver would have expected on a society gentleman, not a jungle recluse.
Without realizing it, Oliver slowly slipped away into the fantasies coming to life in his mind.
The territorial growl of the leopard, however, quickly snapped him back to reality.
Facing the beast, the jungle man puffed out his chest. His whole body seemed to expand as he inhaled a deep breath.
A fearful look filled the leopard’s eyes then. Oliver braced himself for a showdown.
All around, the jungle shook as the stranger erupted with a powerful roar that, to Oliver, sounded like something that ought to have come out of a woolly mammoth.
The leopard fled like a startled hare. Satisfied, the jungle man turned over his shoulder and flashed Oliver a toothy grin.
“Who are—”
He never had a chance to finish, though. The next thing Oliver knew, he was gaping slack-jawed as the jungle man swung into the distance, disappearing just as quickly and as wordlessly as he’d arrived.
Again, Oliver rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Had that really just happened? The pounding in his chest sure seemed to suggest so.
Stunned, Oliver gawked in disbelief at the events that had just transpired. Another moment more, and that leopard would have been picking him out of its teeth right now. That is, had it not been for his newfound guardian angel.
He certainly was angelic, that mysterious jungle man. The way he weaved through the trees like a dancer gliding on the stage. The way he subdued the leopard to submission without so much as laying a finger on it. The way his deep, sensitive eyes sparkled as he beheld Oliver’s face.
He may have been a man of science, but if ever there was a time Oliver felt like he may have just witnessed heaven…
He shook himself out of it. What was he doing? Here he was making goo goo eyes when meanwhile, he was letting perhaps the most important scientific discovery of the century slip out from under him.
Not that the jungle man belonged under him. Frankly, Oliver preferred another arrangement when it came to…
Pull yourself together, Oliver, he interrupted himself. A man, untouched by modern civilization, living in the jungle like some sort of hairless ape. This could be an even bigger discovery than he’d hoped for from this trip. Heck, this could be his ticket to the Nobel Prize.
And somehow, it had landed right in Oliver’s lap.
His thoughts wandered off again. Lap-landing was another situation in which Oliver would have preferred a different arrangement with the jungle man, but that was a matter for another time.
For now, he had a more important issue at hand. Tracking down the biggest scientific discovery of his career.
He took off into the trees.
* * *
Barreling through the jungle, Oliver couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Only this time, instead of running away, he was running to.
The question was, to what? To the most important scientific achievement of his life, of course.
Right?
He gnashed his teeth in distress. The jungle man stood to rewrite natural history, but Oliver knew he couldn’t pretend his interests were purely academic.
His true interest in the jungle man was anything but pure.
A pang of guilt nagged in his stomach. What was he thinking? He couldn’t go chasing after other men. He already had a lover. Dash.
Well, sort of.
He felt his chest sink. For a pair of supposed lovers, there certainly hadn’t been much love exchanged between them lately.
Get it together, Oliver, he told himself. We’ve been through this before. So Dash isn’t the love of your life. That’s what you’ve got your love of science for.
The problem, however, was that science would never be able to love him back.
His feet sprinted faster, as if it were possible to outrun the storm of feelings inside him. You’re just being emotional, Oliver, he told himself. You were just saved from an untimely demise by a vine-swinging jungle man, after all. Of course you’re not thinking rationally.
Deep down, though, a little voice persisted that he just couldn’t shake. A brush with death was supposed to put life in perspective—so what did that mean about Oliver’s life?
The question was quickly knocked from his mind, though, as meanwhile the wind was knocked from his lungs by a collision with what felt like a brick wall.
Like a ragdoll, Oliver’s body bounced off the obstruction. What was that? Dazed, he sat himself upright. The jungle was spinning like a merry-go-round hopped up on espresso.
He rubbed his head gingerly. Apparently, he’d been so lost in thought, he’d forgotten to watch where he was going. “Oliver, you idiot.”
“You can say that again.”
His ears pricked up at the sound of the familiar voice. He rubbed the stars from his eyes. “Dash?”
“I thought I told you not to leave camp.”
He felt the color drain from his face. Not that there were many people he expected to bump into out here, but still, Dash was perhaps the last person Oliver wanted to cross at a time like this.
“Sorry, Dash, can’t talk now.” With how quickly the jungle man moved, a single delay risked losing him for good. He pushed past his companion to continue on his pursuit.
Or at least he tried to, until Dash clamped his hand around Oliver’s forearm like he was trying to snap a toothpick. “What did you just say?”
Oliver swallowed a gulp. “I, uh…can’t talk now?” His voice has gone up about an octave.
“You’ll talk to me whenever I damn well feel like it.” His voice sent a chill down Oliver’s spine. “Now, what were you doing out here by yourself?”
Oliver rubbed his bicep sorely as Dash released his death grip. So much for catching up with his rescuer.
“I was chasing after a man.”
Dash did a double take. “You were what?” It wasn’t clear whether his tone suggested anger or dumbfoundedness.
“There’s a man out here,” Oliver persisted. “But not just an ordinary man. This man lives in the trees, travels by vines, communes with the animals. This man is…a jungle man.”
Dash scoffed indignantly. “And I’m the one who drinks too much, eh? Do you hear yourself, Oliver? The only men out here are us!” He snorted under his breath. “And frankly, with you, the matter’s debatable.”
Oliver tried to hide the injured look on his face. “I’m telling you, he’s real. And I need to find him.”
“Oh?” Dash asked, his anger giving way to amusement. “And why, pray tell, is that?”
Oliver didn’t need his degree from Oxford to know when he was being talked down to. “Because, a real-life jungle man would be an even bigger discovery than we came out here for. It could be the most important scientific development of the century!”
Dash, however, did not appear to be convinced. “And—assuming that you do find him, of course—what exactly do you plan to do with this so-called jungle man? Scavenge for nuts and berries? Take turns picking ticks from each other’s hair?”
The color had certainly returned to Oliver’s face now. In fact, it had returned stronger than ever. “He saved me from a leopard, Dash.”
At that, his lover fell silent. Tentative, Oliver stole a glance at his face. Dash—confident, cocky, and in-control Dash—was utterly nonplussed.
“You were attacked by a leopard?”
Oliver felt himself go pale again. Fuck, he’d said too much. “I didn’t get hurt.”
“You could have gotten yourself killed!”
Oliver took a beat to ease the tension. “Which is why I have to find this jungle man.”
Dash rubbed his forehead like he felt a headache coming on. “Jesus, Oliver. This is why you’re not cut out for the jungle.” He grumbled to himself. “I knew coming out here was a bad idea. And guess what? Thanks to your little stunt, I’m not letting you out of my sight for one instant the rest of this trip. How do you like the sound of that?”
Oliver was about to rebut when Dash steamrolled ahead anyway. “Guess again, I don’t care how you like it.” He seized Oliver’s arm once more, this time even tighter. “It’s going to get dark soon. Time to head back to camp.”
The directive was met unobjected. It was clear to Oliver he wasn’t getting a say in the matter. Spirits broken, he followed in tow as Dash yanked him by the arm back to their temporary jungle home.
Careful not to be noticed, he stole a glance back at the setting sun behind them. It was golden hour, and all the jungle glistened in rich copper hues. He took heart, as much as he could, at the vision of the sun keeping watch over the horizon. Somewhere out there, his jungle man was waiting for him. Somewhere out there, maybe his jungle man was thinking of him, too. Somewhere out there, perhaps his jungle man could take him away from all this.
Somewhere.
TO BE CONTINUED
Love at First Loincloth, Part 2
A Spicy M/M Fantasy Adventure Romance
What had he been thinking?
If Oliver was being honest, he’d been thinking this expedition would be his greatest endeavor yet. Instead, it was now feeling more like his greatest mistake yet.
Listless, he rearranged his dinner plate with his fork, mostly to avoid making eye contact with Dash across the campfire.
Befriending a band of apes, what a joke. Had he really expected them to roll out the welcome wagon? Even if he was right that they were just peaceful, gentle giants and not the brutal, violent beasts that people thought, that still didn’t mean they’d be keen on making themselves vulnerable to him. Being misunderstood, after all, had a way of hardening you.
He ought to know. The way people scorned gay men like him back in London was enough to keep him in the closet for good.
So much for trying to prove that so-called monsters weren’t always what people made them out to be.
Of course, while he hadn’t yet managed to encounter any apes, Oliver certainly had encountered something—or someone, rather—that had aroused his interest. And in more ways than one.
A jungle man. Untouched by civilization. Swinging from the trees in the heart of the African jungle. A discovery like that would put Oliver on the map for good. Heck, it would even make up for his M.I.A. apes.
The fact that this jungle man also happened to be sculpted like a Greek god was beside the point.
Right?
Not if you asked Oliver’s crotch, that was for sure.
He crossed his legs to conceal his growing bulge from Dash as the scene from earlier replayed in his mind.
Bronzed, muscular chest. Long, lean torso. And of course, that loincloth that left decidedly little to the imagination.
The firmness below Oliver’s belt increased. A stray breeze. A meddling twig. That’s all it would take to brush aside that pesky scrap of cloth.
The jungle man probably looked better without that dirty, old rag anyway.
He deserved to be thanked, the jungle man did. After all, he’d saved Oliver’s life, hadn’t he? And Oliver had just the way to show his appreciation.
He’d take it slow to begin with. Tease the jungle man a bit to get him worked up. Dash had never been one to go for that sort of stuff. Foreplay wasn’t really his bag. He much preferred to get straight to the action.
Which really was a shame, Oliver thought. Half the fun was in the buildup, the anticipation. Sex was supposed to be about experiencing a journey if you asked him.
A journey he wanted desperately to take with the jungle man.
Lurid images began filling his mind. He saw his fingers brushing against the jungle man’s chest, tracing the outline of his lean, defined muscles. Smelled his masculine aroma, a musky perfume of earth and sex. Felt the pressure of his hips as they began to thrust with a mind of their own. Tasted the sweat on his skin as he gently enclosed his teeth around his hardening nipple. Heard his passionate moans as he sighed with the pleasure of surrender.
And that’s when Oliver would really show the jungle man what he was capable of. He wondered what the jungle man’s equipment looked like. Not that Oliver was picky. Whatever the jungle man was packing, Oliver knew he wouldn’t be disappointed. Still, it was sure fun to think about.
He’d begin with a slow stroke. A little bit of spit for good measure, but only what was needed for a warmup. This was about endurance, not speed.
Visions of his hand gliding up and down the jungle man’s shaft filled Oliver’s mind’s eye. He felt his erection pulse inside his pants.
Did the jungle man know about gay sex? It dawned on Oliver that, living the solitary life he did, it was quite possible—perhaps even likely—that the jungle man had never had the pleasure, so to speak. Lucky for him, Oliver considered himself an excellent teacher.
He just had to find him again first.
A wistful sigh escaped him. Fat chance he had of doing that with Dash around, though. His lover—not that Dash warranted that label anymore—had put Oliver on lockdown since his little jungle cat run-in.
What it must be like, Oliver mused, being free like the jungle man. Free to feel what you want, be who you want…
Love who you want.
He shook the thought away. It was a pipe dream, nothing more. The best thing Oliver could do, he decided, was to forget all about this jungle man nonsense and focus instead on what he’d come here to do.
Unfortunately, he knew that would be easier said than done.
“Don’t sit around too long. It’s only going to get colder, you know.”
The sound of Dash’s voice pulled Oliver back to reality. He furrowed his brow questioningly. Huh?
It was then that he noticed Dash gesturing at his dinner.
He shook his head clear. “Right.” He set his plate aside. “You know what, I don’t think I’m hungry.”
A scoff followed from Dash. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re all filled up on books?” He cracked a cocky grin like he’d just encountered a thought. “Or perhaps you’d prefer getting filled up by something else?” He gripped between his legs meaningfully. “I hear it’s a great source of protein.” He began to rise from his seat.
Oliver bit his lip nervously. “No, Dash. Not tonight.”
Dash dropped back down with a huff. “A man has needs, you know, Oliver. And I sure as hell never thought I’d have to explain that to another fucking fag.”
Oliver winced as he was suddenly transported back to Jolly Sally’s, cornered by a pair of thugs. “You know I hate that word.”
Dash threw his arms up in the air. “Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” His voice had erupted with anger. “And let me tell you this. If I’m a fag, you’re definitely a fag, Oliver.”
For a moment, all that could be heard was the crackle of the campfire. Oliver tracked the smoke with his gaze toward the night sky above. It was breathtaking out here. Not at all how the sky looked back in London, all clouded with smog. Out here, the sky was unblemished, like he could almost reach out and touch the stars over their heads.
“You want to talk about needs, Dash?” His throat had gone dry, Oliver realized. “’Cause I have them, too, you know.”
“Well, you sure could have fooled me. Do you even know when it was the last time you came on to—”
“I’m not talking about sex, Dash.” Oliver surprised himself at how bold his voice had become. “I’m talking about support. I’m talking about partnership. I’m talking about love.”
Dash snickered bitterly. “Oh, it’s love he wants, is it? Drags me out to the godforsaken jungle and tells me it’s because he wants love. What in God’s name would give you an idiotic idea like that?”
“I thought this would be something for us to do together!”
“We do plenty of things together!”
“Not ‘together’ together.” He took a beat to collect himself. “Anytime we go anywhere back in London, Dash, we never get to be ourselves. It’s always ‘my cousin visiting from Denmark’ or ‘my associate in town on business.’ I never just get to be yours, Dash. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
A heavy sigh escaped Dash’s chest. “That’s just the way things are, Oliver. You know that.”
Oliver focused his attention on keeping a stiff upper lip. “Well, maybe I need more than that. You wanted to talk about needs, Dash, so there you go. That’s what I need.”
The silence that followed was perhaps their heaviest yet. Reaching into his breast pocket, Dash pulled out a flaskful of whiskey. “That what’s got you chasing this jungle man, then? Love?”
Oliver averted his gaze as Dash downed a swig. He couldn’t quite say why it was so hard to meet Dash’s eyes in that moment. Was it anger at the liquor?
Or shame at himself?
Dash scoffed at Oliver’s silence. “I guess that answers that.” He raised the flask for another sip.
“Please put that down.” The words came out desperate, pitiful.
Flask upon his lips, Dash paused mid-movement. Oliver felt his breath hitch. He hadn’t actually expected Dash to listen. Perhaps he was finally getting through to him.
He watched in silence as Dash re-screwed the lid. “All right,” his companion began, brow furrowed deep as if calculating an opportunity. “I’ll put it down. If”—he gestured, flask in-hand—“you tell me more about this jungle man you’ve—oh, how should I put it—gone ape over.”
A knot twisted Oliver’s insides then. “I thought you didn’t believe me about him.”
Dash offered a halfhearted shrug. “Hard to say, really. But if this ape man’s got you worked up like this, then I suppose it’s my right to ask about him, isn’t it?”
He had him there, Oliver thought to himself. He chewed at his lip as he considered how to respond.
“Then again”—Dash made a show of unscrewing his flask once more—“maybe I’m not as curious as I thought.”
It worked like a charm.
“Fine,” Oliver caved. “You want to talk about him? Let’s talk about him.”
A satisfied grin settled on Dash’s face then as he settled himself into a comfy position in front of their fire.
“Well…” Oliver cleared his throat as he tried to buy himself time. “According to my observations—”
“Don’t give me that ‘according to my observations’ bull,” Dash interrupted. “If I wanted a science lesson, I’d come to one of your lectures.” He shook his head to himself. “Tell me about what makes this jungle man so special.”
The command caught Oliver off guard. What made the jungle man special? Was Dash—burly, strapping Dash—feeling threatened?
Oliver removed his glasses and chewed on one of the tips. Maybe this—this gushing over a jungle man whose heroics had left Oliver swooning—wasn’t such a great idea. Not once in all his years with Dash had Oliver known him to be self-conscious. If the jungle man’s derring-do was indeed making Dash of all people jealous, perhaps it would be best if he put his feelings first.
The idea, however, was short-lived. When, if ever, was the last time that lunkhead had done Oliver the courtesy of putting his feelings first? Not since Oliver could remember, that was for sure.
He felt a wave of confidence rise inside him. If Dash wanted to know—if he really wanted to know—what made the jungle man so special, then so be it, Oliver was happy to inform him. He returned his glasses to his face. “The meeting was only brief, you understand.”
Dash, likely without realizing, leaned in to hear Oliver’s response.
“Which is really a pity,” Oliver went on, “because I could have stayed with him for hours.” He smiled smugly at Dash’s tensing shoulders. So this was what it felt like to have the upper hand for once.
“I really thought I was a goner, Dash,” he went on, emboldened. “I mean, this jaguar was one second away from turning me into meat scraps.”
He stole a furtive glance at his companion. Never had Oliver seen Dash hanging on his every word like this. Geez, this jungle man must have really had a hold on him.
And Oliver intended to milk it for all it was worth.
“You should have seen him, Dash. Gliding between the treetops, vaulting through the air. He was like some sort of god.” Oliver paused before adding, “He definitely had a heavenly body.”
He knew he shouldn’t have enjoyed the jealous snort that sounded from Dash then, but Oliver couldn’t help himself.
“So what? I’ll bet I’m twice as strong as any old jungle man. I could fight off a lion too, you know.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “First, it was a jaguar, Dash. Second, this guy didn’t even need to fight it. All he did was give it a glare, and it was like the jaguar knew not to mess with him.” The way his heart rate spiked at the memory surprised Oliver. The more he thought about the jungle man’s calm, unspoken control, the more arousing the idea became.
“Sounds like a chicken if you ask me.”
The retort quickly pulled Oliver back to the present. “That’s the difference.” The words, spoken in epiphany, had come out automatically. He directed his attention back to Dash. “You want to know why I think this jungle man’s something special? Sure, both of you are strong enough to force your way into getting whatever you want, but only one of you feels the need to constantly go around trying to prove it.”
It was the first time Oliver had ever seen genuine hurt in Dash’s eyes. Apparently, he’d hit a sore spot.
“Fuck off.” Dash unscrewed his flask and downed a full, shameless swig.
Oliver felt his confidence begin to vaporize. Fuck. Perhaps he’d gone too far.
Standing to his feet, Dash tossed the rest of his dinner into the fire. “I’m going to bed. Don’t go anywhere.” He shut the tent behind him.
It felt like far more had been shut on Oliver then. He deflated in front of the fire. This was not how tonight was supposed to have gone.
“Oliver, you fucking moron,” he whispered to himself.
Reaching into his knapsack, he pulled out one of his books. Many were the reasons he appreciated science—and foremost among them was its freedom from emotions. Nothing but facts and figures, variables and controls—everything simply made sense.
Which sure was a far cry from the rest of his life right now.
He cracked open the leather-bound volume and let himself disappear into its pages. Disappear from Dash. Disappear from the mess between them.
Disappear, maybe, from even the jungle man.
* * *
Oliver awoke to a stupor. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slowly managed to reorient himself. Apparently, An Unabridged Compendium of Mammalian Natural History, Volume 6 had been just the ticket he’d needed to encourage some much-needed shuteye.
He retrieved his bookmark beside him to save the spot where he’d drifted off when suddenly he was struck with a realization. His book. It was missing.
“Doggonit,” he muttered. Must have been some mischievous chimp that made off with it while he was asleep.
Oh, well. It was gone now.
He sized up what remained of their campfire—fading embers and a pile of snow-gray ash. A dead flame.
Well, wasn’t that just painfully symbolic.
He let his gaze linger on the dwindling campfire remnants. None of this was what he’d intended. All he’d wanted was to contribute something to science, leave his mark on the academy, and maybe make the world a bit better place along the way.
Now, it just felt like he was only making everything worse.
But what was he supposed to do? No matter how much Oliver tried to ignore his collapsing relationship by burying himself in his studies, it still didn’t solve anything. Science, despite being his first love, would never be able to love him back.
But then again, neither was Dash.
He lifted his gaze to the canopy overhead. He wondered if the jungle man knew how lucky he was to sleep under a sky like this. No firetrap flats cramming every nook and cranny, no putrid sewage polluting the air on every street, no throngs of strangers wearing scowls at every turn.
It was that last one that could really get to Oliver. The people in London. The people everywhere in London.
Which meant, of course, that Dash and Oliver had to hide everywhere in London.
He felt his heart sink. Homosexuality had been observed in nearly every complex species. That was a matter of scientific fact. So how, Oliver wanted to know, was it that something so empirically natural could still be so utterly demonized in the enlightened age of the nineteenth century?
It was apparently a question Dash had no interest in asking. That their social outings depended on Oliver assuming an alternate identity was just a part of life as far as he was concerned.
For as much as he liked to act like he was fearless, when push came to shove, Dash clearly only talked a big game.
Apparently, even when it came to the things that mattered to him.
Well, assuming that Oliver was something that mattered to Dash. Which, truth be told, he couldn’t really say anymore.
What he wouldn’t have given for a partner who made him feel protected. Who made him feel free. Who made him feel…
Loved.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Dash? What could he be doing up in the middle of the night? Maybe he’d come to apologize? There was a first time for everything, Oliver supposed.
A pang of guilt settled into his stomach. He really shouldn’t have been so hard on him. All couples fought, didn’t they? Yes, Dash could be controlling, and yes, he could be a little—well, a lot—thick-headed.
He could also be quick-tempered, come to think of it. Stubborn. Arrogant. Manipulative. Oblivious. A tad daft on occasion.
Oliver shook himself out of it. Hold up. If Dash really has come to apologize, the least you can do is hear him out. Who knew, maybe they could make amends and salvage what was left of this trip…and maybe even what was left of their relationship.
But when he turned around, it wasn’t Dash he beheld, but rather…
“The jungle man.”
Oliver rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t still asleep.
Timid, the jungle man flinched like a nervous stray dog.
“Don’t be afraid,” Oliver pleaded, worried his visitor was about to take off. He’d already lost the jungle man once. The last thing he wanted was to lose him again.
Especially now that he was getting a view up close. A tingle coursed its way to his toes. It was as if the moonlight itself glowed brighter when it landed on the jungle man’s body.
His shoulders were slumped, Oliver observed. Quite the contrast from the bold and confident hero he’d met earlier that day. It was then that Oliver realized his elusive jungle hunk had something hidden behind his back.
“What have you got there?” He kept his tone light, sensing that the jungle man might flee at the first sign of a threat.
Guiltily, the jungle man pulled his arms out from behind himself, like a mischievous kid caught red-handed. In his grasp was a book Oliver knew well.
An Unabridged Compendium of Mammalian Natural History, Volume 6.
A grin settled on Oliver’s face. “So that’s where my book went.”
“Book?” The jungle man examined the artifact curiously.
Oliver shook his head in spite of himself. Of course the jungle man had no idea what a book was. “Here, let me show you.” He stood up to approach the jungle man.
And tripped right over an exposed tree root.
The next thing Oliver knew, he was watching the backside of a startled, muscle-bound Adonis alighting in fear into the safety of the trees.
He cursed himself for the gaffe. Oliver, you nitwit. Now look what you’ve done. You scared him off!
An impulse seized him then. He could go after the jungle man. Sure, it was a long shot, but what if he had a chance?
No, Oliver, he told himself. Dash wants you to stay put. Look what happened last time you ran off—you practically got eaten alive by a jaguar. And this time, it’s after dark. Who knows what kind of dangers are lurking out there waiting to rip you limb from limb?
Well, that was a risk he’d just have to take, he decided. He’d already let the jungle man slip through his fingers once. He sure was hell wasn’t about to let that happen again.
Not if there was anything he could do about it.
He took off into the trees. The jungle man—his jungle man—was out there.
* * *
Every muscle in Oliver’s body ached.
An exasperated sigh escaped him. He’d been sprinting through the jungle for—what, an hour now?—and still no sign of his elusive Casanova.
He settled himself on a rotting tree stump. Perhaps it was time to call it.
Maybe it was better this way. After all, life was complicated enough as it was. The last thing Oliver needed was to make things worse by losing his head in some fantasy.
What was this hold the jungle man had on him? Yes, he represented quite possibly a major scientific discovery, but since when had Oliver cared about awards or prestige? After all, his whole point in coming here—proving that people were wrong to cast apes as violent, fearful beasts—hadn’t exactly won him the respect of his peers.
The explanation was simple, Oliver knew. It wasn’t his head that desired the jungle man so—it was his heart.
Oh, Oliver, he chastised himself, there you go again. Getting completely carried away. You don’t know the first thing about this jungle man. And here you are, fantasizing about him when he’s practically a stranger.
Still, never had Oliver wanted so desperately to not be strangers with someone.
There was just something about him—his quiet confidence, his gentle protectiveness—that made Oliver feel…safe.
Safe in a way he hadn’t felt with Dash in ages. Sure, Dash had rescued him from a pair of homophobic bullies, but over the time that had passed since then, Oliver had watched Dash morph into a kind of bully himself. The kind that fed on control.
It was ironic, really. The partner Oliver had spent years with somehow now felt more like a stranger to him than a man he’d only just met.
He’d tried, certainly, to open his heart to Dash, but after so many times of being disregarded, eventually Oliver had given up. The jungle man, though, had awoken something inside him. Oliver was ready to bare his heart—and quite possibly a fair bit more—to him, if only the jungle man would give him a chance.
Well, it’s no use now, Oliver thought to himself. What was he expecting, that the jungle man would simply fall out of the sky?
And just like that, something did fall out of the sky. Not the jungle man, granted, but something that was perhaps equally perplexing.
“A page out of a book?” He knelt down to retrieve it off the ground.
He recognized it instantly.
“A page out of my book?”
Almost as if on cue, another page landed then on his head. “What the—”
Lifting his gaze, he beheld a sight that sent him into panic. There was the jungle man, perched on a branch up above, mercilessly tearing the pages from his beloved volume 6 of Mammalian Natural History, supplying to his ape friend perched beside him what was evidently the most exciting entertainment that either of the poor sods had ever known in their remote, primitive lives.
“Wait!”
For a moment, all was still. Until, that is, a grin lit up on the jungle man’s face. He ripped out another page.
“Stop!”
Delighted, the jungle man tore yet another and waited again for Oliver’s performance.
Oliver slapped his forehead, exasperated. Great, he’d just turned this into a game.
One by one, pages continued raining down on him. If the jungle man kept this up, there wouldn’t be anything of his book left.
He had to put an end to this carnage.
And there was just one way to do that.
But, God, how he hated heights.
Hawking a wad of spit into his palms, he wrapped his limbs around the tree trunk’s massive girth. This wasn’t going to be fun.
Shimmying up the tree, Oliver felt like an overgrown caterpillar. His whole body cringed at the joyful howls sounding above as the barrage of casualties continued raining down. He did his best to snatch mid-air what pages he could, but it was clear his efforts were in vain.
Reaching the canopy at last, Oliver did his best to muster what little of his courage hadn’t already been eroded by the dizzying, daredevil height.
“Don’t be afraid.”
The words had been meant for the jungle man, but Oliver realized they could just as easily have applied to himself.
He soon forgot all about his fears, though, as his eyes settled upon the jungle man. This was the closest he’d gotten yet to the elusive Greek god. It somehow made him want to get even closer.
Perched on his haunches, the jungle man held himself in much the same fashion as the apes he called his brothers. It was clear his body had adapted just fine to his acrobatic life in the jungle. Flexibility like that probably came in handy.
And not just for tree-swinging, either.
The sharp rip of another page being mercilessly torn out, though, quickly shook Oliver from his daze.
“Here, let me show you.” He extended his hand toward the book.
Skeptical, the jungle man turned to his associate as if to consult him. The ape nodded approvingly.
With a shrug, the jungle man surrendered the tome.
A flood of relief washed over Oliver’s body as he held the book—or at least, what was left of it—in his hands. Finally, an end to this barbarism.
Gingerly, he rotated the volume upright. “Book.”
The jungle man appeared to recognize the word from earlier. “Book.”
Oliver nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, book!” Perhaps there was hope for his student yet. He licked his finger to turn the page.
And then gasped in horror as the jungle man lunged forward as if to commit another act of carnage against the sanctity of the written word.
“No!” Oliver exclaimed. “Books are to read.” Perhaps his estimation of the jungle man’s sensibilities had been a tad bit generous.
The jungle man creased his brow in thought. “Read?”
“Sure.” Oliver began thumbing through the pages. “See?”
Wonder lit up in the jungle man’s eyes as he beheld the pages flipping before him.
And then, without warning, he slapped his hand down on the text. “Book!” He pointed to the spread Oliver currently had open.
Glancing at the page, Oliver smiled at the picture that had captured the jungle man’s attention. “Look familiar? That’s what’s called an ape.”
“Ape,” the jungle man repeated, pointing a finger into his hairy companion’s chest.
“Very good,” Oliver encouraged, somewhat surprised. Perhaps he really had underestimated his dreamy recluse’s intellect.
Feverish, the jungle man started flipping through the pages rapid-fire, eager to discover what other fascinations this newfound wonder contained.
Suddenly, he reached a page that ground him to a halt. He pointed to an illustration.
“That,” Oliver explained, “is a man.”
The light of understanding dawned on the jungle man’s face. He pointed to Oliver. “Man.”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Oliver replied. “Oliver is a man.” He then added under his breath, “Despite what some people might have you believe.”
The comment, of course, was lost on the jungle man, who was already engrossed in the book’s next page. He pointed to another illustration and grunted questioningly.
“That,” Oliver supplied, “is a woman.”
The jungle man just shrugged with indifference. He flipped the book back to the previous page. “Man.” He brought the book in close to his face.
A light chuckle escaped Oliver’s lips. “Yes, I like that one better, too.” He could see the wheels turning in the jungle man’s head as he absorbed his newfound knowledge.
The jungle man pointed to his friend. “Ape.”
Then, he pointed to Oliver. “Man.”
And finally, he pointed to himself. “Topzan?”
Oliver arched an eyebrow, confused. “Topzan?” And then, it dawned on him. “Oh, Topzan. That must be your name.”
Topzan nodded affirmatively.
Oliver pointed at Topzan’s chest. “Topzan man, too.”
The jungle man seemed aghast. “Topzan man, too?”
Everything fell still as Oliver’s student appeared to have an epiphany.
And then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, without ceremony whatsoever, Topzan lunged toward Oliver’s pants and undid the fly.
A gasp of horror escaped Oliver’s lips as he watched his member spill out before them. Not that he was embarrassed of his endowment. For as much as Oliver may not have lived up to the traditional masculine ideal, no one could question his manhood when it came to his, well, manhood. Clearly, Oliver was underestimated in more ways than one.
A smile spread across the jungle man’s face at the sight of the familiar anatomy. Elated, he reached for his loincloth to reveal his own appendage.
The sight of which left Oliver inextricably gobsmacked. “Holy…”
If Oliver had thought the way Topzan swung from the treetops was impressive, that was nothing compared to what the jungle man had swinging in-between his legs.
“Yes,” he said, breathless. “Topzan man, too, indeed.”
The jungle man furrowed his brow as if considering an idea.
The next thing Oliver knew, he’d been scooped up into the jungle man’s arms. With a polite tap on the forehead, Topzan bid his ape friend goodbye and leapt for the nearest hanging vine, Oliver swung helplessly over his shoulder.
The hapless scholar swallowed a nervous gulp. What in God’s name had he gotten himself into?
* * *
There was no denying it. He had officially lost control. Never in his wildest dreams had Oliver imagined he’d one day find himself careening through the treetops on the back of a dashing jungle man.
Well, maybe he’d had this dream once or twice, but never had he expected it to actually come true.
This was not good. Not good at all. He was only supposed to have been gone from their campsite for a moment. And now, here he was probably miles away and only getting further by the minute.
What if Dash woke up? What if he discovered that Oliver was missing?
There’d be hell to pay. That was what.
At least he’d finally made contact with an ape. And what’s more, his theory had proven right. That ape was no killer—well, except when it came to butchering books, he supposed.
Proving that apes were no monsters, though, was the least of his concerns now. This expedition had taken a hard left turn.
Emphasis on hard.
It was as if the jungle man had been carved from marble. The sensation of their bodies pressed together, Topzan’s powerful muscles flexing against Oliver’s own lean frame. It made him long to feel their bodies pressed together in quite another way.
And, Jesus, that cock. Oliver may not have been an expert, but he liked to think he knew a thing or two about the male anatomy. Whatever those apes had been feeding Topzan out here in the jungle, evidently it was working.
He wouldn’t dare reveal it to Dash, but Topzan’s tool was even bigger than his own—and Dash was not exactly shy about his confidence in his manhood.
Oliver still couldn’t believe the jungle man had so readily exposed himself. But then again, modesty was a foreign concept to him, was it not? Topzan had never learned to be ashamed of his body the way society taught.
Not that the jungle man had anything to be ashamed of.
Oliver replayed the image in his head. Topzan’s cock was thick and fat at the base. From there, a girthy shaft stretched on, tapering to a full, plump head that was begging to be kissed. A heavy pair of balls hung in the background, probably swinging to and fro at this very moment, Oliver imagined.
Still, a thought nagged at him that he couldn’t shake from his mind. A thought by the name of Dash.
Oliver, you shouldn’t be doing this, he told himself. Even if you’re mad at Dash, he’s still your partner, isn’t he?
He shook the thought away. If Dash was Oliver’s partner, he sure didn’t act like it.
Who could blame him, then, for wanting this jungle hunk…this jungle man?
The question was, what did the jungle man want with him? Clearly, it had something to do with their shared masculinity, given the way Topzan had carted Oliver off at the discovery of their common anatomy. Just what that something was, though, Oliver could only guess.
He certainly had his hopes, though.
Where could Topzan be taking him? He didn’t imagine a jungle man could offer much in the way of accommodations. More likely than not, they were bound for some godforsaken hovel.
No sooner had the thought entered his mind than a sight entered his vision. Through the trees, coming into view as he clung to Topzan’s chest, was the treehouse equivalent of Buckingham Palace.
“Holy…”
* * *
Mouth gaping, Oliver marveled at the treetop paradise before him. Maybe his flat back in London offered indoor plumbing, but even so, that dingy pad had nothing on this place.
Sprawling through the treetops, the structure, constructed of a mixture of bamboo and what appeared to be salvaged pieces from an abandoned wooden ship, comprised a labyrinth of chambers and interconnecting walkways that weaved throughout the canopy. It was a marvel of modern engineering if ever Oliver had seen one.
Maybe Topzan didn’t have a formal education, but clearly, he was smarter than Oliver had given him credit for. A structure like this must have taken years to build.
Swinging onto a platform, Topzan set Oliver down.
“Topzan,” the awestruck scholar said, “this is incredible. You built this?”
Topzan nodded eagerly, his face beaming with pride at having impressed his visitor so. Taking Oliver’s hand, he led the way ahead and began to give him the grand tour.
With every new corner the pair explored, Oliver found himself more and more in awe of Topzan’s jungle sanctuary. He couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow despite—or perhaps even because of—its humble construction, the jungle man’s treehouse felt like home.
Home.
That was a feeling Oliver hadn’t felt in ages. Certainly never in the London flat he shared with Dash. It wasn’t a feeling he could describe exactly, but something about the jungle man’s abode just seemed to fit—like the walls themselves glowed with safety. With trust. With love.
Just then, he found himself pulled from his thoughts as Topzan, ever the tour guide, yanked him ahead to yet another treetop chamber.
Piled before him, Oliver beheld a mound of bananas that could have fed an army of jungle men. A broad smile beamed on Topzan’s face as he posed beside his trove. He reached out to offer one to Oliver.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He accepted the fruit and opened up the peel.
Topzan followed suit with a banana of his own.
The sight of which sent Oliver slack-jawed. When it came to consuming his favorite snack, the jungle man certainly had an unorthodox technique.
Swallowing it whole.
“Oh, my,” Oliver observed, flustered. “You certainly are talented, Topzan.”
The jungle man cocked his head curiously.
Oliver felt his cheeks turn red. “Never mind.” He polished off his own banana and motioned to toss the peel over the side of the treehouse.
Suddenly, though, Topzan stopped him short.
“Sorry,” Oliver supplied, “I suppose I ought to dispose of this properly.”
Topzan only shook his head.
“Something else, then?” Oliver furrowed his brow. “What is it?”
No sooner had the words left Oliver’s mouth than Topzan took it upon himself to demonstrate. Banana peel in hand, he stripped off his loincloth to reveal an eager, raging hard-on.
“Jesus Christ.”
Now that Oliver was seeing Topzan erect, there was no doubt at all who the king of this jungle was.
A devilish gleam lit up Topzan’s eyes. Slowly, he brought his banana peel in close to his massive appendage.
“Uh, Topzan?” Oliver adjusted his glasses. “Are you about to do what I think you’re about to do?”
TO BE CONTINUED
Love at First Loincloth, Part 3
A Spicy M/M Fantasy Adventure Romance
Oliver worked to pull his jaw off the floor. This wasn’t—no, this wasn’t actually about to happen.
Already, this night had been beyond belief. Not only had he chased Topzan through the jungle, swung across vines like he was some kind of stuntman, discovered a treehouse that could rival the Taj Mahal—now, to top it off, he was about to receive a performance from a man with a dick that belonged on King Kong?
If this was a dream, Oliver didn’t think he ever wanted to wake up. Was this something the jungle man did often? Jacking off with leftover banana peels, that is. Oliver supposed it was fitting. After all, hadn’t he himself experimented with his fair share of lard-filled stockings in his day? If anything was truly universal, it was man’s ingenuity when it came to his most precious piece of equipment.
A nervous pang twisted his insides. He needed to pump the brakes. Though he wanted nothing more than to be pumping something else, he couldn’t afford to get carried away.
This trip was supposed to be about science, not sex. How was he supposed to prove that people were wrong to brand apes as depraved, fearful monsters when he was wasting all his time drooling over some hunky jungle man?
Besides, in a few more days, he’d be headed back to England. There was no sense getting attached to Topzan when he knew full well that he’d only be leaving him soon.
And lest he forget, he was, technically speaking, still attached. Granted, not for much longer, the way things were going. If Dash didn’t start treating him with some common decency soon, Oliver was going to have to think hard about giving him an ultimatum.
Still, for the time being, he didn’t need Topzan getting tangled up in his relationship woes. It would only make matters worse.
And what if Dash caught them? So far as Oliver knew, that lunkhead was still fast asleep back at their campsite, but what if he woke up and discovered that Oliver had wandered off again? He’d already warned him once not to defy him. Finding out that Oliver had flouted him yet again would make Dash go nuclear.
Especially if he discovered who Oliver was with. There were precious few people who could get under Dash’s skin. Men with his type of ignorant confidence weren’t exactly prone to self-doubt. But something about Topzan threatened him, Oliver knew.
Something that had to do with him.
“Topzan, I gotta stop you.”
The jungle man regarded Oliver with confusion. His hand froze in place, banana peel dangling from his fingertips just inches above his dick.
That thick, hard, droolworthy dick.
Oliver felt a thrill course through him. Aww, fuck it. “Allow me.”
The comment drew an eager smile from the jungle man. With a nod, he lowered his banana peel to allow Oliver to take control.
Inside his chest, Oliver felt his heart pound with lust. Just the sight of Topzan’s raging cock was enough to drive him wild. Now, he was about to feel it—if only through the barrier of a banana peel. Perhaps that was for the best, though. After all, technically he wasn’t being unfaithful if he never actually made contact.
Right?
Oh, dash it all. Now was no time to bother with semantics.
Slowly, Oliver lowered his banana peel over Topzan’s erection. He felt his heart start to flutter at the sensation of the rigid member filling up the peel between his fingertips. Holy fuck, this was actually happening. And to him, of all people. Oliver felt like he must’ve been the happiest guy on the planet in that moment.
The happiest guy except Topzan, that is. A low moan escaped the jungle man’s lips at the feeling of the silky smooth peel gliding down over his shaft. He let his head fall back in surrender to the pleasure he was receiving.
Oliver worked Topzan’s cock lovingly. Slow and steady, he slid the peel up and down the length of the jungle man’s manhood.
At least as much of his length as the peel managed to fit. Oliver pulled it down around Topzan’s long, girthy shaft until his cockhead pressed against the peel’s stem at the end. Still, the peel failed to stretch the full length of the jungle man’s massive pipe.
“Bloody hell.” The way that thing filled up a banana peel, Oliver wondered what other sorts of receptacles could accommodate Topzan’s cock.
He was about to make a suggestion to such effect when Topzan decided to take matters into his own hands.
Literally.
“Topzan, what are you doing?” Oliver looked down at the jungle man undoing his fly for what was now the second time that night. His cock, hard as a rock, sprung out from between his legs.
Joy lit up on Topzan’s face at the sight of the ready erection. He retrieved his own banana peel off the floor.
“Ohhh, fuuuck,” Oliver moaned at the feeling of the slippery peel gliding down over his shaft. “Now I know why you like this.”
It was true, too. The soft, silky interior of the peel encircling his cock felt even more welcoming than Oliver had anticipated.
The best part of all, though, was that the sensation was happening at the hand of the jungle man.
He let himself melt into Topzan’s confident grip. Gentle waves of pleasure began rolling through his system at the work of the jungle man’s hand. His firm, strong, muscular hand. Applying just the right amount of pressure around his hard, quivering cock. It was like watching a fantasy unfold before his very eyes.
Topzan pleasured Oliver’s rod lovingly, stroking its length with focus. It was as if his hard-on created some untold fascination for the jungle man. Granted, Topzan’s intrigue made sense when he thought about it. This was, after all, almost certainly his first time milking another man’s penis.
Although, judging by his skillfulness, he sure could have fooled Oliver.
What a scene, Oliver thought to himself. A skinny nerd and a muscular hunk, knelt down on their knees, stroking each other’s cocks with banana peels in a jungle treehouse paradise.
Absurd? Yes. But more importantly, fucking hot as hell.
Their rhythms began to synchronize—Oliver working Topzan’s cock, Topzan working his. A steady beat took hold between them, uniting them as one as they pleasured each other’s manhoods.
Not a word escaped the jungle man’s lips, but the look in his eyes said it all: Trust me, I’ll take care of you.
It was a good thing he was already on his knees, Oliver thought to himself, because the sparkle in Topzan’s eyes could have made his legs give out.
He adjusted his grip on his peel, experimenting with different pressures on the jungle man’s cock. A primal groan issued forth in response. Clearly, Topzan approved of Oliver’s work.
Centering his focus, Oliver savored the contours of Topzan’s hard-on, as if he wanted to memorize the landscape of its features. Every inch of that cock—that beautiful, masculine cock—deserved to be worshiped, from the tip of its head down to its thick, hair-covered hilt.
“Fuck, you’ve got a perfect dick.”
Clearly, the feeling was mutual, the way Topzan masturbated Oliver. Fast, then slow. Firm, then gentle. Full, then focused. Experimenting with different strokes seemed to pleasure him as much as it did his partner.
Oliver felt his mouth salivate then as he took in the sight of their two cocks together. Two men stroking each other. Pleasuring each other.
Loving each other.
He was ready to take the next step. There was no question about it. He wanted Topzan. Wanted him with all his being.
Coincidentally, he also happened to love the taste of banana.
“Oliver, you out here?”
The sound of Dash’s voice froze Oliver stiff. “Shit!”
He zipped up his pants immediately. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. If Dash caught Oliver making love with the jungle man, there’d be serious hell to pay.
Making love, his mind repeated. Not messing around, not getting nasty. Making love. That was what it felt like.
Which, frankly, was the opposite of what sex with Dash felt like.
He’d have to unpack that thought later, though. If Dash was out here looking for him, he didn’t have a moment to lose.
“Forgive me, Topzan.”
A look of bewilderment filled the jungle man’s eyes then. A look that Oliver hated himself for as he fled off into the night.
* * *
“Dash! What are you doing up?” Hunched on the ground, Oliver lifted his head to the warden-like figure towering over him.
“What am I doing up?” Dash’s voice dripped with rage. “I think the one who should be answering that is you.”
Standing to his feet, Oliver felt acutely then the vast height difference between Dash and himself. He did his best not to shrink down. “I’m doing, uh, field research.”
Dash arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Field research?”
“Uh-huh.” Oliver bent back down to yank a weed from the dirt. “See this? It’s called, uh”—an indecipherable mumble spewed out from his lips.
Dash crossed his arms, unconvinced. “Say what?”
Oliver responded with another string of nonsense.
Dash shook his head clear. “Never mind.” He spun around on his heels. “So this is the thanks I get, eh? I protect you, take care of you, make it all possible for you to do your little science projects, and this is how you repay me? By disobeying my orders and gallivanting off into the jungle? Jesus, Oliver. It’s like you don’t even know how to listen.”
Oliver hung his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry, Dash.” The words came out hollow, broken.
Dash responded with a scoff. “God, this trip was a terrible idea.” He started walking away toward camp. “You coming?”
Oliver wasn’t sure what to say.
“I meant that rhetorically.”
Oliver was about to comply when a faint rustle in the trees reached his ears. He spun toward the source of the sound.
“Topzan!” he blurted under his breath. He stole a glance at Dash still walking away, oblivious.
Worry clouded the jungle man’s face. Clearly, he’d witnessed the exchange, crouched beneath the palm branches. And though he barely knew a word of English, it was apparent that Topzan had understood the scene.
He raised himself to his feet as if he intended to confront Dash.
“No, Topzan,” Oliver whispered. “It’s OK.”
The jungle man lowered himself back down. Bewilderment etched his face, as if he couldn’t comprehend why Oliver wouldn’t let him come to his defense.
“It’s complicated,” Oliver replied. “Don’t worry, I know how to take care of myself.”
“Oliver!” barked Dash’s voice up ahead. “Get the lead out!”
Oliver grit his teeth. “Coming!” He turned back to Topzan. “Promise me you’ll keep your distance from Dash?”
Topzan nodded reluctantly.
A sigh of relief escaped Oliver’s lips. There was no telling what Dash might do if he got his hands on the jungle man. Not that Topzan couldn’t handle himself, but if anything happened to the jungle man on Oliver’s account, he knew he’d never forgive himself.
“Oliver!” Dash’s voice had become increasingly impatient.
Oliver took one final look at his jungle man—his beautiful, protective jungle man. “I’ll come back.”
With that, he disappeared into the trees to catch up to Dash.
* * *
Today’s a fresh start, Oliver, he thought to himself as he awoke the next morning. He sat up in their tent, Dash still asleep beside him. A smirk crossed his lips as his partner let out a snore.
Sure, Dash wasn’t perfect. Sure, he could be controlling. But it came from a good place. Deep down, Dash really wasn’t that bad. And after all, it wasn’t like Oliver was perfect, either. He knew he could be a handful—one might even call him neurotic. The fact that Dash put up with him was a testament to his patience.
Right?
Never mind. Either way, he couldn’t get tangled up with Topzan. As much fun as the previous night had been—and, oh, what fun it was—that was all it could amount to. Fun. Before long, he’d be back on a boat home to England, and that would be that. There was no sense throwing everything away for some one-off jungle fling.
Some wild, impassioned, mind-blowing jungle fling.
The memory triggered a growing bulge between his legs. He’d never actually had a chance to finish last night, he realized. His hand traveled down toward his waist as images of the jungle man filled his mind’s eye.
Stop it, Oliver, he reprimanded himself. You’re spoken for, and you owe it to Dash to be obedient. After all, he’s the one who saved you from being beaten to a pulp all those years ago.
The fact that Dash had now taken to threatening to beat Oliver to a pulp himself was beside the point.
He shook his head clear. You know what you need, Oliver? What you need is to get this jungle man out of your head for good. What you need is to focus on your priorities.
Starting with—who else?—Dash. He pulled the blanket down below their waists. Surely, a little special attention would put his partner in a better mood today.
* * *
Well, that had been a disaster. Rising from the sleeping bag inside their tent, Oliver put on his clothes in preparation for a busy day of field work.
Dash kept his back turned as he dried himself off. “So, which is it?”
Oliver arched an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“The way I see it,” Dash continued, “is there’s two possibilities here. Either I’ve forgotten how to get another fellow off—and I can hardly believe that’s the case—or you’ve decided I no longer do it for you.”
A knot twisted inside Oliver’s chest. “It’s not that, Dash. It’s just—”
“That blasted jungle man,” Dash cut off. “That’s what this is about, right?”
Silence hung between them as Oliver worked to muster a response. He obviously hadn’t wanted to go soft earlier. Maintaining an erection had never been a problem for him—hence Dash’s dismay at Oliver’s sudden inability to rise to the occasion, as it were.
But how was he supposed to stay hard now that sex with Dash had become such a chore? There was nothing sexy about it, not anymore. He tried to pin down what exactly had changed. Nothing came to mind so far as he could recall. Nothing, perhaps, except for himself.
Had he simply outgrown Dash? After all, the helpless ingénue Dash had once rescued from a seedy London alleyway had come a long way to make it to where he was today. And that person didn’t have to settle anymore for someone whose heart had forgotten how to love.
The sex he’d had with Topzan, despite its brevity, had only served to confirm his suspicions. The only reason Oliver had ever been able to have sex with Dash to begin with was because he hadn’t known what he was missing. Once he’d experienced true lovemaking—real, genuine, and passionate lovemaking—how was he supposed to be satisfied with whatever it was he did with Dash?
Of course, he didn’t dare divulge his frustrations, but then again, he supposed he didn’t need to. His deflated cock had said everything Dash needed to know.
“Well, I got what I needed,” Dash surmised as he balled up a cum-soaked rag. “Your loss if you can’t get your equipment to work again on account of some pathetic fantasy.” He tossed the rag at the corner of their tent. “I suppose you want to go poke around for gorilla dung now or something?”
Oliver sighed defeatedly. “I guess that would be fitting for a shit day like today.”
* * *
By the time the day was over, Oliver’s case of blue balls had reached near torture levels. As it turned out, hours of tedious field work with nothing to think about but his pent-up sexual frustration had left him with a dick-mergency.
He stoked the campfire before him with a stick. Throughout the day, he’d wondered if Topzan might try to show himself. But to his dismay, the jungle man had been nowhere to be found. It was probably for the best. After all, hadn’t Oliver asked him to keep a low profile?
The trouble was, that still didn’t change the fact that there was nothing Oliver wanted more in that moment than the comforting presence of his strong jungle guardian.
His eyes flicked toward Dash across the fire. Slumped over, asleep, and intoxicated Dash. The sight sent a flash of heat through Oliver. Dash had never meant it when he said he’d quit. It was all just a load of bull to keep Oliver at bay.
He’d pretended throughout the day not to see Dash nipping secretly at his flask. Honestly, he didn’t care anymore if Dash thought he was pulling a fast one. It just wasn’t worth the fight. If Dash wanted to drink himself into oblivion, then that was his prerogative. But Oliver for one was not about to go down that path alongside him.
He heaved a heavy sigh at the stars up above. All he wanted was a partner who made him feel safe, made him feel secure, made him feel loved. And if there was anything he’d learned so far on this trip, it was that that partner would never be Dash.
There was one man, of course, who certainly came to mind. A man who embodied everything that Dash so sorely lacked.
The mere thought of Topzan holding him tight made Oliver stiff in the crotch. Visions of their previous rendezvous replayed in his mind’s eye. It was a shame they’d never had the chance to take things further. What he wouldn’t have given to know the jungle man even more intimately.
He didn’t dare sneak off again, though. Especially after Dash had already caught him defying him once, there was no telling what he’d do if he discovered Oliver running off a second time.
He sized up the drunkard out cold before the fire. A loud, drawn-out snore passed from his lips. Oliver shook his head to himself. What was he worried about? Dash was so incapacitated right now, not even an air raid would wake the boozer up.
He furrowed his brow in thought. That settled it. No one was keeping him from his jungle man tonight. No one.
Silent, he alighted into the underbrush. Topzan’s treehouse awaited.
Little did he know, though, that in his haste to reunite with his dreamy jungle lover, he hadn’t even noticed when along his way a stray palm frond had snagged a small but significant belonging he kept hanging around his neck.
His antique compass.
* * *
The sight of Topzan’s treehouse lifted Oliver’s heavy heart instantly. It felt like coming back to a place he’d known his whole life. It felt like coming home.
He breathed in deep as emotion swelled inside him. He’d never gotten this feeling from his flat back in London. The flat he shared with Dash.
Funny just how quick a place could come to mean so much.
How a man could come to mean so much.
Cool it, Oliver, he reminded himself as he adjusted the growing bulge in his pants. You’re here for sex and sex only. Getting dicked down, thrown around, then going on your merry way. Taking care of business, as it were. Promise yourself you won’t go and make things complicated. Think you can do that?
The skip in his step as he alighted toward the base of Topzan’s tree left significant room for doubt.
And upon his arrival at the dwelling above, the discovery awaiting him vaporized his hopes of keeping his emotions in check.
“Topzan, what is this?”
Before Oliver’s feet lay a candlelit smorgasbord of ripe jungle fruit.
A nervous smile flickered on the jungle man’s lips as he held out a juicy papaya.
Oliver accepted it, nonplussed.
Eagerly, Topzan led his guest out onto the floor. With the snap of his fingers, a quartet of songbirds perched on the window ledge began to coo melodically. He pulled in Oliver close to his chest.
“Dinner and dancing?” The surprise nearly left Oliver speechless. “You did this for me?”
The jungle man nodded happily.
Oliver’s heart swelled up into his throat. A tear trickled down his cheek.
The display drew a look of concern from Topzan. His deep, brown eyes grew large as he lifted Oliver’s chin.
“Don’t worry, Topzan. Sometimes tears mean people are happy.” He pressed himself into the warmth of the jungle man’s chest. “You know what, I’d say dinner can wait. Right now, you’ve got me craving something…else.” He cupped Topzan’s crotch through his loincloth.
The jungle man shot up tall like he’d just been struck by lightning. His face settled into a devilish grin as he tossed Oliver’s papaya aside.
* * *
Everything became vivid. The lush greens of the treetops, the earthy perfume of the flora, the tingle of the breeze against his skin. Time itself seemed to pause.
Oliver looked up to behold his brave jungle man’s eyes. Deep and brown, they sparkled in the starlight. He realized then that, despite Topzan’s sparse vocabulary, he’d never once had to wonder what the jungle man was thinking. Those expressive eyes said everything he needed to know.
And right now, they were saying, You belong to me tonight.
Surrendering himself, Oliver pressed his lips tight against Topzan’s. It was only in hindsight that he realized kissing was probably a completely foreign concept to someone who’d never lived outside the jungle.
Topzan sure seemed to take to it, though. Instinctively, he locked his lips with Oliver’s.
And Oliver felt himself melt away. Or rather, he felt everything else melt away. His stress over his research. His problems back in London. His constant bickering with Dash. What remained was perhaps the most Oliver had felt like himself in ages.
The firmness inside his pants increased. And judging by the bulge propping up Topzan’s loincloth, it appeared he wasn’t alone.
“You’re really not concealing much there.” Oliver grinned mischievously. “Perhaps I ought to…give you a hand?”
The jungle man, however, had other ideas in mind. The next thing Oliver knew, he found himself giving Topzan not a hand, but rather another form of service.
“Fuhhh,” he articulated to the best of his ability. Speaking coherently wasn’t exactly easy with Topzan’s cock stuffed inside his mouth.
Fortunately, the jungle man seemed to get the message. A wide grin spread across his face as he beheld the sight of Oliver down on his knees before him. He let out a grunt of pleasure.
The signal was just the encouragement Oliver needed. Loosening his throat, he allowed Topzan’s member to slide further into his mouth.
Which was easier said than done, he discovered. Oliver stretched his jaw to its limit, but still he struggled to accommodate the jungle man’s massive manhood.
Sensing his partner’s discomfort, Topzan began to let up. Oliver, however, was not about to back down. Being underestimated was all too familiar to him, and there was nothing he loved more than proving his doubters wrong.
He hawked a wad of spit on Topzan’s hard-on and slathered it along its length. So help him, he was going to swallow this jungle man’s dick.
The savory taste of precum lingered on Oliver’s tongue as the tip of Topzan’s manhood slid back into his mouth. Breathing through his nose, Oliver relaxed his jaw as the jungle man lodged his cockhead against the back of his throat. You can do it, his eyes seemed to say as he locked gazes with Oliver. I know you can fit this all the way in.
Oliver nodded submissively. And though not a word was exchanged between the lovers, their eyes did all the talking.
The next thing Oliver knew, he felt the final inch of Topzan’s length sliding effortlessly into his mouth.
Nose buried deep in the jungle man’s happy trail, Oliver took in the perfume of his musky, masculine scent, his throat filled to its limit by the shaft of Topzan’s massive cock.
A low moan of pleasure issued forth from the jungle man. It filled Oliver with pride to know he could please the jungle man so.
Finally, to his chagrin, Oliver did need to come up for air. He gasped a sharp breath as Topzan’s cock cleared his windpipe.
“Sure beats a banana peel, huh?”
Topzan nodded in agreement—then did something that caught Oliver entirely by surprise. Grasping his guest by his head, the jungle man pulled his mouth back down on his pipe.
It hadn’t been what Oliver expected, such a sudden show of dominance. He had to admit, though, he certainly didn’t mind.
It was different than when Dash became dominant. Oliver hated letting his partner take control. So what made this different—his willful submission to the jungle man? Why was it so easy to let go with Topzan around?
The answer, he realized, was simple. Oliver didn’t mind having Topzan in control because he trusted him. Whatever turn things took, Oliver knew deep down his jungle man would always keep him safe. It had been so long since he’d known what that felt like, Oliver had nearly in fact forgotten.
The realization seemed to unleash something in him. Before Oliver knew it, he’d gone into overdrive, gagging on Topzan’s cock like he couldn’t get enough. Working the rod with his hands, he slurped up and down the entire length, leaving behind a wet, sloppy coating of saliva.
Moaning, Topzan stabilized himself against a windowsill. Judging by the sounds leaving his mouth, never had the jungle man experienced such bliss.
And to think that Oliver was just getting started. He flashed a devious smile at the jungle man above him.
* * *
Buzzzzz.
Smack!
The sting of his palm slapping hard against his forehead jarred Dash from slumber. Blinking awake, he scowled at the bug guts smeared across his hand.
“Bloody jungle.” He wiped himself off against his pants.
Gingerly, he touched a hand to his temple as the ashes of their campfire shifted in and out of focus. It felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull.
Perhaps he’d overdone it with the whiskey just ever so slightly.
With considerable effort, he brought himself to his feet. What he needed was some water.
Staggering, he stumbled a path to their tent where he knew he’d find a canteen.
One thing he didn’t find there was Oliver.
He felt himself sober instantly.
“Damn it, Oliver.”
He burst from the tent like a firing torpedo. Blood pumping, he took off on a warpath into the jungle. It was time he taught Oliver a lesson that twerp would not soon forget.
* * *
God, was this amazing. Oliver gazed dreamy-eyed at Topzan above him as he gave his dick a mouth massage. He began to feel it pulse against his throat. “Ah, ah, ah,” he teased as he removed his lips from the shaft. “I am far from finished with you.”
He stroked Topzan gingerly, just enough to keep him satisfied but not enough to push him over the edge. A slow, steady rhythm would be just the trick to bring him back down.
Gently, he swirled his fingers around the thick, meaty pole. For a man who lived in the jungle, Topzan had a remarkably satin-like shaft. The rest of his body may have been weathered by the elements, but underneath that loincloth, the jungle man’s cock was smooth as silk.
Not that he was complaining about Topzan’s rugged physique. In fact, his feelings were entirely the opposite. His muscle-bound frame, his rough, hardy skin—it only made the jungle man more irresistible in Oliver’s eyes.
It was sure a far cry from his own build. A life of academia hadn’t exactly gifted Oliver with a bulging set of muscles. His lean frame paled in comparison to Topzan’s he-man physique.
The jungle man, however, seemed to like Oliver’s lithe figure just fine. Even with their size difference, the two fit together perfectly.
The next thing Oliver knew, he found himself being disrobed and spun around.
“What are you doing, Topzan?”
He felt the pressure of Topzan’s cockhead against his hole. A thrill rushed through his system. Fuck, yes. This was exactly what he wanted. That big, hairy jungle man dick sliding inside him. Opening him up. Pounding him into submission.
There was just one thing he needed beforehand.
“Hold up, tiger, we’ll get to that. But first, I’ve got a job for you.”
Topzan cocked his head, intrigued.
“I need you to give me some…warm-up.”
Judging by the blank look on Topzan’s face, Oliver’s implication apparently didn’t register.
“I want you to eat my hole, Topzan.”
The directive cast the light of realization on the jungle man’s face.
“Would that be something you’d be into?” His voice was tentative, unsure.
Topzan knit his brows in contemplation. Evidently, the notion of a rimjob was foreign to the jungle man.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Oliver supplied, suddenly self-conscious.
Apparently, though, further convincing would not be needed. No sooner had the words left Oliver’s mouth than he felt himself being rocked by the tongue-blasting of a lifetime.
“Geez, Topzan,” he gasped, “you’re pretty good at that.”
Topzan nodded appreciatively, not missing a beat as he kept his face buried between Oliver’s cheeks. Waves of pleasure rolled out into his body, all at the hand—well, tongue—of the talented jungle man. If this was truly Topzan’s first time eating hole, he sure could have fooled Oliver. Apparently, the jungle man was a natural.
“My,” Oliver said with a chuckle, “it sure seems that someone is enjoying himself.”
Well, technically, enjoying Oliver. A low growl rose up out of the jungle man as he continued devouring Oliver’s hindquarters. Oliver soon found himself pinned under Topzan’s weight as the jungle man pushed his face harder up against his partner’s entrance. It was as if something primal had been awoken inside Topzan. As if he’d discovered a hunger he was powerless to control.
It was time to turn things up a notch.
“All right, Topzan. I’d say that’s enough warm-up.”
* * *
Little did Oliver know that, meanwhile in another corner of the jungle, things were heating up in a different way.
“When I get my hands on you, Oliver…” Dash muttered to himself. He marched through the underbrush like a soldier storming Normandy, hacking down foliage with his scythe left, right, and center. “You’re going to be sorry I ever rescued your ass in the first place!”
Panting, he paused to catch his breath, his face crimson with rage. How dare that miserable has-been twink defy him again. Didn’t he realize that without Dash, he was nothing? To think he’d risked his hide to save that dweeb from those thugs all those years ago. And what thanks did he get? Nada!
It was all on account of that jungle man. That was who Dash had to thank for this mess. Assuming he wasn’t just a figment of Oliver’s wild imagination, of course. Dash wouldn’t put it past him to have invented the fantasy himself—just a colorful charade designed to get under his skin.
So help him, though—if that jungle man was indeed real…well, Dash was determined to make sure his days were numbered.
A grim smile unfolded across his face at the thought of grinding Topzan to a pulp. What do you think of your jungle man now, Oliver? Not so big and strong anymore, is he?
He listened in close to the nighttime hum of the jungle. They had to be out here somewhere.
And as he soon found out, ‘somewhere’ was in fact closer than he’d realized. Taking a step forward, he registered the sound of a sharp crunch issuing forth underneath his boot.
He lifted his foot away, revealing an object he recognized instantly.
“Oliver’s compass.”
Kneeling down, he scooped up the busted instrument. Not far away, a trail of footprints led off into the trees.
His clutch on Oliver’s compass tightened. “I’ve got you now, you little punk.”
* * *
Oliver inhaled a nervous breath. “Promise me you’ll go slow?” Lying on his back, he took in the sight of the nude jungle man knelt at his entrance. God, was this surreal. Here he was, a young, sheltered Englishman, about to become one with the most virile, unbridled, and herculean man’s man his eyes had ever beheld.
Topzan nodded in response to the question. It sent a wave of calm over Oliver. Not that he’d been worried, but with a piece of equipment like Topzan’s, he thought it best to err on the side of caution. That thing was truly king-size.
And any moment now, it would be going inside him. He felt his heartbeat tick up in anticipation.
“OK, Topzan. I’m ready.”
Dropping a wad of spit, the jungle man positioned himself at Oliver’s entrance. Thrills coursed through his body then at the touch of Topzan’s cockhead against his quivering hole. He cast his eyes upward at the man hovering over him.
His powerful shoulders.
Hairy pecs.
Bulging biceps.
Sculpted torso.
And, of course, that eager, twitching cock.
The two men locking eyes, Topzan commenced his entrance.
A sharp breath escaped Oliver. “Fuck, Topzan. You’re big.”
The jungle man paused, the tip of his rod sitting inside Oliver’s threshold.
“I didn’t say stop, dummy. Give me that jungle man cock.”
Oliver’s wish was Topzan’s command. The next thing he knew, Topzan was sliding the remainder of his long, hard pipe into Oliver’s warm, welcoming hole.
“Fuuuck.” Oliver threw back his head in ecstasy. “I can’t believe you’re actually inside me.”
Judging by the lust lighting up the jungle man’s eyes, clearly the feeling was mutual. Lifting Oliver’s legs, Topzan tossed them over his shoulders.
“That’s right, Topzan. Get inside me deep.”
The jungle man certainly didn’t need to be told twice. Instinctively, his hips knew what to do. Picking up speed, he thrusted in and out.
“Fuck, yeah, Topzan. Pound that hole.”
Gripping Oliver’s waist, the jungle man raised the explorer’s ass off the floor so he could mount him from overhead. Oliver thus pinned below, Topzan now had just the angle he needed for optimum face-to-face drilling.
Folded in two with his knees at his ears, Oliver found himself thankful for his natural flexibility. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a scene so sensual.
Above him, Topzan drove his full weight into Oliver, his whole body conducting a smooth, powerful rhythm.
“Jesus, Topzan. You know just what you’re doing.” Shutting his eyes, Oliver focused on savoring the bliss.
The passion.
The instinct.
The animalism.
This was exactly how sex between men was supposed to feel.
Opening his eyes again, Oliver took in the view of Topzan thrusting himself into him. God, this man was heavenly.
But perhaps even more importantly, he was…kind.
Yes, Topzan had the body of a god, but as far as Oliver was concerned, that was merely the icing on the cake. Despite the size of his schlong, what really had won Oliver over was the size of his heart.
With Topzan, Oliver felt safe. Not controlled, the way Dash made him feel. It was a feeling of being at ease. Like no matter what, everything would be OK so long as he was wrapped in Topzan’s arms.
He sure could get used to this.
And then reality returned. Pull yourself together, Oliver. This is simply a one-time deal. You’re only going to make it harder on yourself when it’s time to go home to England.
That was a worry for another day, though. If a brief jungle fling was all his time with Topzan would amount to, then he was going to make sure he made the most of every moment.
“Come on, Topzan. Show me what you got.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Love at First Loincloth, Part 4
A Spicy M/M Fantasy Adventure Romance
Being the man of science he was, Oliver never had put much stock in spiritual experiences. But if anything could convince him to reconsider, it was the mind-blowing nirvana of a jungle man pounding.
There certainly wasn’t any doubt who the king of this jungle was.
“Fuck, Topzan,” Oliver panted, voice bouncing to the rhythm of the jungle man’s thrusts. “I don’t want you ever to stop.”
It was the truth, too. Nothing had Oliver ever wanted more than to be fucked the way Topzan fucked him.
Fucked with confidence.
Fucked with stamina.
Fucked with a raw, hard, ten-inch plow tool.
His long day of blue balls had been a small price to pay. Getting his guts rearranged by Topzan was worth the wait tenfold.
As much as Oliver wished this could go on forever, though, he knew that reality had other plans in store. In less than forty-eight hours, the ocean liner that would provide them safe passage home would be sailing up the coast on the return leg of its trading route. And like it or not, Oliver knew he would have to be aboard.
His only regret was that he’d never truly accomplished what he’d come to the jungle to do. This was supposed to have been an expedition for science—proving that the gentle, peaceful gorilla wasn’t actually the beast people made it out to be.
He’d get over it, of course. But being misunderstood was a theme that hit all too close to home for a gay man like himself.
All those problems, all those worries, though—they were concerns for later. If tonight was all he’d ever have with Topzan, then Oliver did not intend to waste it fretting about the future.
Why had he even thought twice about sneaking away from camp tonight? The grip Dash had managed to trap him in…it made him want to scream.
Now all he needed to do was work up the courage to make Dash treat him with some respect.
But again, that was a problem for another day. If he knew Dash, that deadbeat was still three sheets to the wind, passed out drunk before the embers of their campfire.
* * *
“Mark my words, Oliver. When I get my hands on you…”
Cursing under his breath, Dash hacked his way through the underbrush. Oliver couldn’t have been far, not if Dash’s discovery of that dweeb’s heirloom compass left on the ground was any indication.
He paused and scanned his surroundings. So help him, if he discovered Oliver had snuck off with that jungle man, then he was going to teach that ingrate a lesson he wouldn’t ever forget.
He pressed on ahead, mercilessly razing the underbrush in his path. His imagination became plagued by visions of Oliver getting cozy with his alleged jungle man. It made his blood boil.
But then, realization struck.
Come on, Dash, a jungle man? What does Oliver take you for, a fool? Clearly, this is some pathetic attempt to dupe you into thinking you’ve got competition.
A smug grin spread on his face as he continued to forge his path through the vegetation. Nice try, Oliver, but what kind of idiot would fall for something as stupid as a jungle man living up in the trees?
Just then, he emerged from the thickets. The sight he discovered nearly dropped his jaw to the ground.
“What the…”
Before his very eyes, aloft in the canopy, was a treehouse fit for, well, for a king of the jungle.
* * *
Primal.
Instinctual.
Feral.
Had Oliver been coherent enough to describe sex with Topzan, such were the words he likely would have chosen. As the matter stood, though, he was far too lost in the moment to form anything approaching intelligible thought.
He raised his head to drink in the sight of Topzan above—his powerful hips bucking into him, making him his own.
“Give it to me, Topzan.” Oliver’s whole body rocked as the jungle man rammed him unrestrained. “I want you to give it all to me.”
Topzan certainly didn’t need to be told twice. A deep breath expanding his chest, he brought his eyelids shut, as if counting down.
Three…
Two…
One…
The jungle man’s eyes reopened. They still, as always, had their dreamy, mahogany depth, but now, there was something more. Something animal.
It drove Oliver fucking wild.
“Damn, Topzan. You really are the king of the jungle.”
More importantly, a king who knew how to fuck like one. Throwing his weight into Oliver, Topzan drove his cock with force into the Englishman’s pulsing hole.
His thick, hard-as-a-rock pole.
Its entire length—head to hilt—entering and exiting Oliver’s increasing gape over and over again.
While, below him, the young man squirmed with ecstasy like he’d entered another dimension.
“Jesus, Topzan. Did you know you could do this?”
The jungle man shook his head, impressed that he had this in himself.
Well, technically speaking, in Oliver.
“You’re doing fucking great, Topzan,” Oliver panted, barely able to form words. “Keep it up.”
Oliver’s wish was Topzan’s command. Grabbing the scholar by his waist, the jungle man adjusted his mount, his thrusts continuing full-power.
It was pure fucking.
Fucking with hunger.
Fucking with vigor.
Fucking with abandon.
What was Topzan’s secret? How did a man as perfectly virile yet so kind and passionate actually exist? Clearly, the combination of testosterone-fueled masculinity and unexpected sensitivity that Topzan possessed was Oliver’s weakness.
“Fuck, Topzan, please don’t stop.”
Not that the jungle man showed signs of doing such thing. It was a marvel the energy he possessed. How this jungle man’s cock hadn’t yet exploded its load into Oliver, he was unable to fathom. Clearly, Topzan possessed unrivaled control over his member.
Oliver felt like he was glowing. It was as if being filled with Topzan’s cock, his cock taking up space in him, made him feel whole. To think that massive member was at home inside of him. Frankly, with such a mammoth rod, Oliver would have thought he’d be begging Topzan for mercy.
But instead, he was begging him for more.
Visions of a thick, creamy load spurting from his cock, warm and gooey and coating his chest, Topzan’s meat still pounding him senseless, filled his mind’s eye.
Grunting, the jungle man would then go into beast mode, climaxing with a powerful ejaculation of his own, flooding Oliver’s insides with warm, gooey, cum. Cum that Oliver would savor, Topzan’s seed planted inside him.
Man, he wanted that bad.
“Fuck, Topzan. I can’t believe I’m actually getting fucked by a jungle man.”
The reply that followed turned his veins to ice.
“Funny you should mention that, Oliver. I was just about to say the same.”
Oliver felt his insides twist at the sound of the familiar voice. And just like that, he knew he would not be receiving the jungle man’s seed tonight.
Raising his head, Oliver turned his face toward the treehouse’s entrance.
“Dash…”
* * *
“Dash, I wasn’t expecting you.” Oliver felt his heart do a high jump into his throat.
A bitter snort escaped Dash as he regarded the jungle man still cock-deep in Oliver’s hole. “Clearly.”
“I can explain,” Oliver begged.
“Well, it better be a hell of an explanation.” Dash turned toward Topzan. “So, the illustrious jungle man. He really does exist.” His words came out smug, icy.
The comment made Oliver’s heart rate spike. When Dash was in a rage, there was no telling what he might do.
His cheeks burned with anger. If that brute so much as laid a finger on Topzan, Oliver would have to…well, he’d…
Fuck. What would he do? He wasn’t exactly equipped to stand in Dash’s way, being the heavy-on-brains-but-tragically-light-on-brawn lad that he was. If Dash decided to take matters into his own hands, there’d be no way for Oliver to stop him.
This had all been a mistake. A terrible, stupid, colossal mistake. Not that Oliver felt guilty about what he and Topzan had done. What made this such a mistake was that Topzan was about to get pummeled to a pulp—and it would be all his fault.
Dash sauntered closer to the pair, who, still reeling in shock, had yet to, well, disengage from each other. Oliver debated upon the realization whether he ought to make his dismount but ended up thinking better of it. It was time he sent a message to Dash. A message that he no longer owned him. And with Topzan’s still rock-hard cock claiming him, there was no mistaking whom Oliver belonged to in that moment.
A bitter scoff came from Dash as he registered Oliver’s brazenness. “You know, the way you talked about this jungle man of yours, Oliver, frankly, I have to admit, I expected something more…impressive.”
Topzan, despite his limited vocabulary, had no trouble detecting Dash’s insult. Without further ado, he removed himself from Oliver and stood to face Dash head-on.
Well, technically, two heads on.
“Holyyy…”
Slack-jawed, Dash gaped at the behemoth before him.
“What were you saying about impressive?” Oliver quipped.
An angry red hue came over Dash’s face. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat, self-conscious. “Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself. Clearly, I’ve been too lenient on you, if this is the sort of behavior you think you can get away with.” He seized the scholar by the forearm. “Grab your clothes. We’re leaving.”
Alarmed, Topzan rushed to block the doorway.
“It’s OK, Topzan,” Oliver assured. As possessive as Dash was, he knew his former lover didn’t pose any imminent danger to him. The same, unfortunately, could not be said when it came to the jungle man. Given the hair trigger Dash had right now, Oliver knew he couldn’t risk letting the two men come to blows. “I’ll be fine.”
He caressed Topzan’s cheek wistfully. So much for a passionate night of lovemaking. But maybe it was for the best. After all, Topzan was just a fantasy. It would never work in the end. What future could they possibly have? Topzan, a wild-at-heart jungle man? Oliver, a mild-mannered geek?
And besides, he had to get home to England. Could he imagine Topzan trying to pass as a society gentleman? He’d never be happy living in Oliver’s world.
The fact that Oliver wasn’t either was beside the point.
“Goodbye, Topzan.” He turned to face Dash, discarded clothes in hand. “I’m ready.”
* * *
Needless to say, their journey back to camp was not a pleasant one.
“How could you betray me like that?” Dash berated outside their tent. “I take care of you, I look out for you, I protect you…and this is the thanks I get?”
The silence was deafening as Oliver hung his head, defeated. Protected couldn’t have been further from the way Dash had made him feel lately, but what was the point in arguing? Trying to have an actual conversation with Dash was like talking to a brick wall.
“Frankly,” Dash went on, “I’ve got half a mind to go back to that treehouse now and teach that jungle savage a lesson.”
That certainly got Oliver’s attention. “Don’t you lay a finger on him.”
A bemused smirk spread across Dash’s face. “Catching feelings for the jungle man, are we?” He cackled bitterly. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get more pathetic.” He held open the flap to their tent. “Thank god we’ll be back in London soon and you can forget about this jungle man nonsense.”
A shadow fell across his face as he realized Oliver didn’t intend to come inside. “Fine, then. More space for me.” His eyes narrowed into a warning glare. “But so help me, Oliver. If I wake up and your butt isn’t in front of that firepit, you aren’t going to live to see London again.” With that, he blustered into the tent, yanking it shut behind him.
Oliver couldn’t have felt heavier then if his body had turned into lead. Sitting outside in the wilderness with nothing to keep him company but a pile of dead campfire ashes, he was truly, completely, inextricably alone.
Fuck, had this become a mess. For starters, he had completely and utterly failed to accomplish anything meaningful for science and was now doomed to return home to England—and his naysaying academic peers—with quite literally nothing to show for his trouble. And in case that wasn’t already bad enough, he’d also managed to utterly destroy his personal life in the process.
Technically, yes, his relationship with Dash had already been one foot in the grave, but cheating on him with Topzan had driven the final nail into the coffin.
Did he regret it? No, he’d decided. What was the saying? ’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And while his time with Topzan had been brief, he’d cherished every minute of it.
There was no use getting misty-eyed over it now, though. They’d had their fun, but it was all over now. In two days, their ticket home would be returning, and he’d have no choice but to say goodbye to the jungle man forever.
Although, come to think of it, maybe he already had said goodbye. He wouldn’t have blamed Topzan if he never wanted to see him again after the mess Oliver had gotten him tangled up in.
That settled it. It was time to let go of his jungle fantasies. If he worked fast, there was still time to accomplish his scientific mission—but it was going to take focus. That meant no sex, no romance, and most important of all, no jungle man.
He still had nearly forty-eight hours to prove he wasn’t a scientific failure, and mark his words, he wasn’t going down without a fight.
Resolute, he settled in for some shut-eye. Tomorrow would be a new day. This whole ordeal of Dash and Topzan fighting over him—it was time to lay it to rest. What he needed to do now was focus on himself.
Himself and the reason he chartered this expedition to begin with.
* * *
Precious little sleep was had by Oliver that night, but by now, it mattered not. At this point, the plucky scholar was running on spite.
The morning sun on his back, he knelt down over a pile of gorilla droppings. They were fresh.
An excellent sign, if Oliver did say so himself. They must have been on the right track.
His spirits quickly dimmed, though, as the outline of Dash’s shadow fell over him.
“Disgusting.” The brute wrinkled his nose at the stench. “Talk about shit work.”
Oliver just rolled his eyes. Expecting Dash to have an appreciation for science, he’d learned, was a fool’s errand.
But it was of little importance now. The minute they got back to London, Oliver was calling it quits. He’d learned too much about himself these last few days to ever go back to the prison Dash had kept him in.
What would he do, then, once they returned home? As much as Oliver hated to admit it, he’d depended rather heavily on Dash to keep them afloat while he focused on his research. Without Dash around, Oliver wasn’t sure how he’d support himself.
Which was why it was now more important than ever that he accomplish something here while he still had time. A pivotal scientific discovery about one of man’s most feared beasts would be just the ticket he’d need to finally put himself on the map. To finally escape Dash’s shadow. To finally be somebody.
“I gotta take a piss.”
The sound of Dash’s voice pulled Oliver back to the present.
“I trust you aren’t going to go chasing after your jungle man again while I’m gone?”
“He’s not interested in seeing me again.” Which, ultimately, he knew was for the best. “You made sure of that last night.”
A grim smile contorted Dash’s face. “Yes, what a pity.” With that, he saw himself into the trees to relieve himself.
Businesslike, Oliver set about inspecting the sample he’d discovered. Keeping himself busy meant he wouldn’t have to think about…
“Topzan.”
The appearance of the jungle man gave Oliver a start. Immediately, he shot a glance over his shoulder to ensure his visitor hadn’t been noticed.
While the time-pressed scientist in Oliver hated to admit it, he couldn’t deny the truth. Man, was Topzan a sight for sore eyes. And not just because of his bare, bulging muscles. The way Topzan’s mere presence made Oliver feel safe instantly, the jungle man could have looked like an ogre for all he cared.
The muscles were certainly a nice bonus, though.
He noticed, then, that it appeared the jungle man had something hidden behind his back. The memory of the last time this had happened made him cringe. Doggone it, if Topzan had massacred another one of his books…
“Topzan, what are you doing here?” Oliver spoke in a hush. It wouldn’t be long at all, and surely Dash would return.
But the jungle man only came closer.
“You can’t be here, Topzan.” Oliver’s voice became urgent. “If Dash sees you here, he’ll…he’ll…hell, I don’t know what he’ll do, but frankly, I’d rather not find out.” Meeting eyes with Topzan, he softened. The jungle man looked hurt.
Oliver took a calming breath. Fuck, this was going to be hard. But he came to the jungle to do a job, and he now had precious little time left in which to do it. “Look, Topzan, what we did was fun. Truthfully, it was a lot of fun.” A beat of silence passed as Oliver lost himself in the memory of the previous night. “But that’s all it can be, Topzan. We’re from two completely different worlds. Surely, you understand.”
The jungle man seemed to shrink at the revelation.
Be strong, Oliver, he told himself. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. “I don’t like it, either, but it’s for the best, Topzan. I shouldn’t have led you on the way I did. That was a mistake. This was a mistake.” He paused as he sensed his voice about to break. “The time I’ve got left here needs to be put to use for science. It wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if we kept carrying on. Besides, we’d just be delaying the inevitable. Putting it off will only make it hurt worse in the end.”
The jungle man deflated further. Suddenly, Oliver noticed his vision becoming misty. He averted his eyes to the ground.
“Don’t worry. Soon you’re going to forget all about me.” The words, Oliver knew, were meant as a reminder for himself.
If only Topzan could speak. The jungle man must have had something he wanted to say. The fact that he was powerless to share it left Oliver hollow.
“Take care of yourself, Topzan.” He began to back away. “And don’t worry about the book.” He gestured to the jungle man’s arms behind his back. “You can keep it.” With that, he spun around to hide the tears welling up in his eyes.
Steeling himself, Oliver listened to the quiet padding of Topzan walking away—and then, a soft thud, like something hitting the forest floor.
Oliver swiveled back around. Topzan was nowhere in sight.
Left behind, though, was a bouquet of fresh jungle flowers.
“Goddamnit, Topzan.”
He knelt to pick up the gift. Apparently he’d been wrong about Topzan absconding with another one of his books.
The flowers’ perfume was sweeter than any floral shop back home.
His daze was quickly interrupted, though, by the grind of Dash’s voice. “Really, Oliver?”
Oliver stammered nervously. What all had Dash seen?
A bitter scoff escaped Dash as he eyed the bouquet in Oliver’s hands. “If you’re trying to butter me up, you’re gonna have to do better than this.” He snatched the flowers scornfully. “Fucking ugly, anyway.”
Walking off, he dumped the bouquet to the ground. “Let’s go find more monkey shit.”
A depressed sigh passed from Oliver’s lips. You’re making the right decision, he reminded himself. He scurried off to catch up with Dash.
* * *
The day proved to be fruitless. Despite the lead he’d discovered, Oliver ended the afternoon—and with it, this whole expedition—without a single live observation.
He eyed the setting sun as he hunched before their campfire. Their ship was due in the morning, and here he was without so much as a shred of scientific evidence. This trip—and by extension, himself—had been a complete and utter failure
His colleagues back at the university would have a field day with this. Oliver’s insistence that gorillas weren’t actually the ferocious beasts people made them out to be, but rather gentle giants that had simply been misunderstood, had made him the department laughingstock. This whole trip, his mind had conjured grand visions of proving his doubters wrong, of making his mark on the academy, of finally not being seen as such a dumb, pathetic loser.
You really showed ’em this time, eh, Oliver?
His eyes flicked over the campfire to Dash seated across from him. Or rather, Dash passed out across from him. He just couldn’t make it a single day, could he?
A string of drool hung from the inebriated dolt’s lips, loud snores droning out his nose.
You sure know how to pick ’em, Oliver.
Of course, it was a different matter entirely when it came to one other gentleman caller.
What kind of primitive, uncontacted wild man did things like romancing his lover with flowers? It was ironic, really. Dash had spent his whole life rubbing elbows with England’s uppercrust, yet clearly between them, the true gentleman was Topzan.
He hoped he hadn’t hurt the jungle man too terribly. The look in his eyes as Oliver had turned him away still hurt.
One thing was for sure—never in a million years would he ever forget his beautiful jungle man.
Suddenly, he was struck with a thought. Topzan didn’t need to become merely a memory just yet. After all, their ride home wouldn’t arrive until morning, and in the meantime, there was nothing more that could be done about his gorilla situation. Maybe, he could still spend one last night in the jungle man’s arms.
A little voice niggled inside him. This is a bad idea, Oliver. The more attached you get to Topzan, the harder it’ll be to say goodbye. And what if Dash catches you again? You know there’ll be hell to pay.
He stole another glance at his incapacitated former lover just in time to see his bloated stomach lurch with a loud and drunken hiccup. That boozer wasn’t waking up anytime soon
Oliver chewed his lower lip. Even if there would be hell to pay for this, it would still be better than the hell of never seeing Topzan again.
Mind made up, he spirited away into the trees.
* * *
Oliver arrived at Topzan’s treehouse in record time. Just the sight of the jungle man’s haven suspended in the trees gave his heart a lift. A few more moments, and he’d be back in the jungle man’s arms. Where he belonged.
Little did he know, he was in for a letdown.
“Topzan?”
Scanning the empty dwelling, he listened for a response.
“Topzan, are you here?”
Silence.
“Topzan, where are you?”
His stomach dropped inside him as the realization sunk in. The jungle man wasn’t here.
“I guess I can’t blame you.”
He settled himself down on the floor. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. If someone had turned Oliver away the way he’d done to Topzan, he probably wouldn’t want to see them again, either. Had he really expected the jungle man to sit around waiting after kicking him to the curb?
“I’ll never forget you, Topzan.”
Memories of his last few days with the jungle man played back in his mind. The moment he’d saved Oliver from the leopard. The time he’d discovered how to defile Oliver’s books.
And on that note, the night he’d discovered how to defile Oliver.
What he wouldn’t have given for just one more night in the jungle man’s arms.
It was just as well. Heartbreak had always been the inevitable outcome of this crazy jungle fling.
He ought to get back to camp, he realized, before Dash woke up to him missing again. No point sticking around without Topzan here.
Somehow, though, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to his feet—as if his whole body had suddenly lost the will to move.
So what if Dash found out Oliver had snuck out again? It wasn’t like things between them could possibly get any worse. And frankly, just the idea of being near that Neanderthal right now was enough to make Oliver bristle.
If all he had were his memories of the jungle man to keep him company here in this treehouse, he’d still pick that any day over keeping company with Dash.
He settled into a cot overlooking the night sky. Rocking gently, he savored the leftover scent of the man who’d captured his heart and drifted off peacefully to sleep.
* * *
“Get in one last good fuck for old time’s sake?”
The sound of Dash’s voice as Oliver returned to camp the next morning turned him rigid. “He left.”
A cruel smirk appeared on Dash’s face. “Must’ve finally come to his senses.” He began taking down their tent. “Pity the same can’t be said of you.”
“Fuck you, Dash.”
The comment merely earned him a laugh. He began to pack up his supplies for their voyage home.
“You know,” Dash mused as he continued dismantling their tent, “I’ve been thinking.”
That’s a first, Oliver wanted to say but couldn’t seem to find the energy.
“I’ve been much too soft on you,” the bulldog continued. “This is exactly what happens when a man goes soft—he gets taken advantage of. When we get back to London, things are going to change. Clearly, I’ve given you far too long of a leash. Am I making myself clear?”
Before Oliver could respond, though, Dash continued steamrolling. “And another thing. You’re going to give up this scientific nonsense. I deserve a home-cooked meal when I finish work for the day. But instead of doing your job, Oliver, you coop yourself up with your dusty, old books. There’ll be no more of that, understood?”
It was all Oliver could manage to nod in silence. Whatever fight he’d once had in him was officially long gone.
Dash returned the nod, businesslike. “Good. Glad we’re agreed.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “All right, get that junk of yours packed. We’ve got a boat to catch.”
* * *
The sight of the massive ocean liner appearing on the horizon turned Oliver’s stomach to lead.
Standing on the beach, Dash began pushing their dinghy into the water. “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes.”
Maybe if you like floating iron caskets, a voice inside Oliver’s head added.
Dash gestured impatiently toward their dinghy. “Hop in. Time to go.” He added under his breath, “Finally.”
Turning jungleward, Oliver heaved a wistful sigh. He sure was going to miss this. Who would have ever thought that he—a skinny, pasty nerd who counted carrying a stack of library books as strenuous physical activity—would find himself at home in the untamed African wilderness?
But that, of course, was before he’d met the jungle man.
He’d never forget Topzan. And though their time had been brief, Oliver cherished every second of it.
But as the saying went, all good things must come to an end. If only they didn’t have to end so soon.
“Hoping your lover boy will come to say goodbye?” Dash scoffed bitterly. “That sorry jungle man, he knows he’s been beat.” A mocking snort escaped him. “Guess that guy’s not as dumb as he looks.”
If the comment had been meant to get a rise out of Oliver, then sadly, Dash was in for a letdown. The scholar merely stared into the trees.
Hopefully, Topzan would forgive him one day. Surely in time, he’d come to understand why Oliver had needed to call things off. He was simply trying to spare them from heartache.
Unfortunately, in doing so, he’d only made this harder on them both.
Who was he kidding? Topzan had probably forgotten all about him. A beefy jungle Adonis like him was hardly likely to shed tears over a dorky geek like himself. Certainly, Topzan had already bounced back.
For Oliver, it would take a bit longer.
The salty sea breeze prickled him as he spun back around toward the shore. Ready or not, it was time to face reality. Reality with the gray and indifferent streets of London. Reality with Oliver’s rivals, who would be all too happy at the news of his dismal failure. Reality with Dash lording over him and not a prayer of getting out.
Sure, it was a nice idea—breaking free and starting new. But without the discovery he’d been counting on, how was he supposed to make it on his own?
Besides, Dash would never permit it. Not in a million years would he let Oliver go after wrapping him so tight around his fingers. Perhaps at one point, Oliver might have been able to escape Dash’s control, but that ship had sailed without him a long time ago.
Much like the ship on the horizon was about to do if they didn’t get a move on.
Oliver sighed dejectedly. “Coming.” Taking a seat in the dinghy, he stole one last gaze at the jungle he was leaving behind. What he wouldn’t have given for a chance to say goodbye.
Suddenly, he detected a noise in the distance. It was so faint that, at first, he wondered if it was just his imagination.
But Oliver knew that sound well. It was the same bellowing din he’d heard just before the first appearance of…
“Topzan.”
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Through the trees, coming in hot on a leafy, green vine, was none other than the illustrious jungle man.
Dash’s face burned a deep shade of crimson. “You have to be kidding me…”
Topzan landed on the beach with an elegant, acrobatic descent. A flock of butterflies let loose inside Oliver.
But there would be no final goodbye, not if Dash had anything to say about it. “Wait here.” His tone indicated he was not to be questioned. “I’ll take care of this.”
The sight of Dash marching across the beach toward Topzan turned Oliver’s blood to ice. But what could he do? He was no match for Dash. Helpless, he stood by to observe the confrontation.
“You’ve got some nerve, jungle boy, showing your face here now,” Dash said, his voice taunting. “But come to think of it, maybe I’m glad you came back.” He began to circle him, a vulture closing in on its prey. “I’ve actually got something I’ve been wanting to give you.”
Out of nowhere, he threw a sucker punch into Topzan’s abdomen. Blindsided, the jungle man fell to the sand.
Leaping to his feet, Oliver rushed to Topzan’s aid.
A bitter cackle burst from Dash as the scholar tended to the jungle man’s injury. “Enjoy it while you can, monkey man. You aren’t going to have your lover boy for long.” He grabbed Oliver by the forearm. “Come along, Oliver. Time to go.”
The words that followed shocked Oliver himself as much as they did Dash.
“No.”
Disbelief swelled across Dash’s face at his lover’s unprecedented defiance. “What did you just say?”
Oliver spoke louder this time, doing his best to channel confidence into his voice. “No, Dash.”
The veritable tank narrowed his eyes at Oliver. His murderous gaze drove a chill down the meek scholar’s spine. “No, what?”
Oliver swallowed a nervous gulp. There was no going back now. “I’m not coming with you back to London.”
A scornful howl followed suit from Dash. “Is that so? Going to live in the jungle with the gorilla man, are you?”
Knelt on the sand, Oliver nodded with determination as pulled the injured Topzan in close. “I’m staying, Dash.”
The revelation sent Dash sputtering. “Are you insane, Oliver? You want to give up everything for this…this freak of nature?”
That did it. That was officially the last straw.
Oliver stood to his feet. “Give up everything, eh?” He approached Dash steadily. “And what, pray tell, is it that I have in London? That I have with you?”
Dash fell silent, Oliver’s sudden show of confidence rendering him speechless.
“I’ll tell you what I have,” Oliver continued, emboldened. “Back in London, I have a toxic, controlling, emotionally abusive boyfriend who doesn’t have a clue when it comes to showing affection, when it comes to showing devotion, or frankly, when it comes to just showing me some basic human respect.”
Dash reeled back, indignant. “I give you plenty, Oliver. Who works a real job so you can play with your little experiments? Who puts up with your nonsense so you can test your harebrained theories? What is it that I’m not giving you, Oliver, that you can get from a half-naked jungle man?”
“Love.”
The word, just one syllable, had come out before Oliver had even paused to think, yet in it was contained more meaning than anything else he could possibly have said then.
Surprised at himself, Oliver cleared his throat as he gathered his wits. “Yes, Dash, love.”
Dash tossed back his head and guffawed. “Oh, Oliver, you really are just as nutty as you seem. Trading a life of stability, civility, for…love?” He wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. “Surely, you can’t be serious.”
Oliver stationed himself next to Topzan. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious, Dash.”
The true sincerity of Oliver’s words appeared to sink in for Dash then.
“Better hurry,” Oliver said, “or you’re going to miss your ride.” He held his position beside Topzan.
The sound of the surf crashing into the shore filled the air as Dash fumed in silence.
Finally, he opened his mouth. “You’re going to regret this. Maybe you weren’t aware, but back in London, back where you belong, I’m considered something of a catch. To think I ever stooped to the likes of a loser like you who doesn’t even realize when he’s throwing his life away. But if that’s what you want to do, Oliver, then be my guest.”
The moment Dash hesitated before climbing into the dinghy made Oliver wonder if deep down, Dash had still expected him to cave in the end.
But for once, perhaps for the first time ever, Oliver knew he wouldn’t back down.
“Goodbye, Dash.”
Not a hint of remorse was contained in his words.
Fuming, Dash shoved off in their dinghy—no, his dinghy, for it was in that moment that Oliver’s new life had begun.
“You’re going to be sorry,” he shouted as he frantically rowed out to sea. “It won’t be long, and you’ll see what a mistake you’re making.”
“No, Dash,” Oliver replied, standing firm against the sea breeze. “The only mistake I made was you.”
Cursing, Dash shook his fist at Oliver and his new lover, his true lover. “You’ll live like savages, you know. I hope you’re happy!” With that, he rowed off toward the horizon before the ship left him behind.
Watching from the shore as Dash disappeared from his life, Oliver made a realization then. He was happy. Happier, in fact, than his memory could ever recall. Once and for all, he was finally—finally—free from the cage Dash had kept him in.
And best of all, in doing so, he’d found someone else who truly loved him for himself.
Kneeling back down over his recovering jungle man, Oliver brushed a strand of hair from his face. Already, Topzan appeared to be feeling better.
He planted a kiss on his lips. “What would you say to picking up where we left off?”
The bulge starting to grow then beneath the folds of Topzan’s loincloth was all the answer Oliver needed.
Taking the Step, Part 1
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
“Mo-om, could you learn to knock, please?”
Missy Townsend shut the door behind her as she entered her son’s bedroom. “I know you just turned eighteen, Cam, but don’t forget that I’m still the one in charge around here.”
Sitting up in bed, Cam pulled the blankets up over his shirtless chest. “Maybe it would help if you actually were around here.”
The comment softened Missy’s edges as she sat down at Cam’s bedside. Tenderly, she brushed a lock of sandy, blond hair from his face. “I know it’s been hard since your dad left, Cam.” Despite her attempts to stifle it, a weary sigh escaped her lips. “Look, I wish I could be around more, sweetie. Really, I do. But making ends meet takes a little more work these days. You understand that, don’t you?”
“But you’re going to miss graduation.” Not that Cam cared particularly about academics, but his long-awaited escape from the torments of high school had taken on near spiritual significance for him as of late.
“Don’t worry,” his mom assured. “This business trip will be a week at most. I’ll be home with time to spare.”
Cam groaned inwardly. “I’m going to be stuck with Jason a whole week?”
A silence hung in the air as Missy mulled over her words. “Look, I know you two aren’t exactly best buds yet, but give your step-dad a chance.”
The plea just earned her an eye roll. To be fair, deep down, Jason really wasn’t a bad guy, Cam knew. It was just that he was such a…a jock. Cam could only imagine that, when Jason was his age, he was probably captain of the football team or something. Meanwhile, here he was a shy, quiet nerd that most people didn’t even know existed. Being holed up with such a ball of testosterone was literally a nightmare come true. Jason would probably try and make a man out of him by week’s end.
“Who knows,” Missy continued amidst Cam’s prolonged silence, “perhaps this could even turn out in your favor. You’re worried about your finals, aren’t you? Maybe Jason could help you study. Think of it as a bonding experience.”
The suggestion only made Cam scoff.
Realizing they were nearing an impasse, Missy raised herself from the bed. “Promise me you’ll try to get along? He’s trying so hard to be just like a real dad to you.” Crossing the room, she opened the door to leave. “Jason wants to get to know you, Cam, if only you’ll let him in.”
With that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
A tired sigh escaped Cam as he threw the bed covers back off his body. This was going to be a hell of a week.
* * *
Despite the late hour, traffic to the airport was bumper-to-bumper.
“You know, I could have just called a cab,” Missy said from the passenger seat. “Work gives me an expense account for a reason, babe.”
“Nonsense,” Jason replied from the driver’s seat. “Besides, this means I get to spend more time with you before we have to say goodbye.” Leaning over the center console, he pecked his new wife on the cheek.
It lit up her face with a glow. “How did I get so lucky to find such a wonderful husband?” Unfortunately, her sheen dimmed quickly as another thought appeared to enter her mind. “I just wish Cam could come to see in you what I do.”
A horn honked behind them then, jarring Jason from his thoughts. He drove through the green light ahead of them. “I sure hope he comes around. You know I always wanted a son—someone to guide, to teach, to show how to be a man.”
The comment drew a scoff from Missy. “Well, you’ve certainly got your work cut out with Cam.” She furrowed her brow, regretful. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that Cam’s never had a father to be there for him. Sure, he had Randy, but ‘father’ is hardly the term for that lying, cheating—”
“I understand, Missy.” Jason rested a hand on her thigh as they came to another intersection.
A thick silence hung between them as they stared, listless, at the red stoplight ahead.
“I did have a good talk with him before we left,” Missy supplied.
Jason arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She gave him a withering look. “Well, ‘good’ might be a bit of a stretch, but I think this week will be memorable for you boys.” She let out a light chuckle. “I mean, you men. Ever since Cam turned eighteen last week, he’s been insisting I stop babying him.”
Jason grinned, reminiscing. “Do I remember that. But he’s right, Missy. Cam isn’t a boy anymore. He deserves to be treated like a man.”
The horn behind them honked again, this time with even more impatience.
“What, you got a hot date to get to or something, pal?” Jason shouted out the window. Grumbling, he proceeded through the intersection.
“Sometimes it’s just hard to believe,” Missy supplied, “that my little Cam is all grown up.”
“Well, not all grown up,” Jason corrected. “Cam’s still got a lot to learn.” He slumped his shoulders, dimming. “I only wish he’d let me be the one to help him.”
Now it was Missy’s turn to give Jason a comforting leg pat. “He’ll get there. I really think this week is going to bring you two much closer.” She bit her lip, contemplative. “I can’t quite explain it, but something tells me Cam just might be finally ready to open himself up.”
* * *
Cam’s mom had only been gone a few minutes, but already, he felt the dread of a week alone with Jason sinking in. He could see it now—his new step-dad stopping at nothing to win over his reluctant step-son.
Well, he would have no part of it, Cam resolved. Maybe Jason was a good fit for his mom, but there was nothing that man could offer Cam that he couldn’t fulfill himself.
He could make it through this week. All he had to do was keep the wall between his step-dad and himself strong and firm. In just a few more weeks, he’d be a high school graduate and out of the house for good. So help him, if keeping Jason out of his life meant locking himself in the basement until then, then he was willing to do what needed to be done.
Restless, he rolled over in bed to check the clock on his nightstand. 11:04. It was official. No sleep was about to be had anytime soon.
Well, he might as well make the best of it. Throwing the covers off his body, he got up from his bed and took a seat at his desk. A rat’s nest of textbooks and notepads, worksheets and folders, lay strewn out before him. If he didn’t pass his finals, he’d be stuck in this house a whole ’nother year.
A whole ’nother year stuck in this house with Jason.
He switched on his desk lamp to begin his study session. French class—he had enough extra credit built up that he wasn’t particularly worried. English Lit—if there was any final he could count on passing, it was that one.
The real source of his anxiety was…sex ed.
It was dumb, he knew, being worried about a subject that horny young men were supposed to be thinking about constantly. And he was, certainly—thinking about it constantly. Day and night. Twenty-four-seven. But that didn’t mean he knew anything about sex. He was still a virgin, for crying out loud.
Sure, he’d heard plenty of secondhand gossip in the locker rooms—guys bragging about their conquests with their girlfriends. But Cam had never had a girlfriend before. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure he wanted one.
So why, then, was he constantly popping boners? Like seriously all the time. And often, in the worst moments possible. He did what he could to make them go away—take a cold shower, go get some exercise—but no matter what he tried, they kept coming back. Was that normal, or was he actually some sort of sex freak?
Even after a whole semester of sexual education, he still didn’t have an answer.
God, passing this final was going to take a miracle. If only there was someone more experienced who could help him understand his urges.
* * *
“Say, I’ve got an idea.”
Jason, exiting the highway for the airport, cocked his head. “Oh?”
Missy nodded affirmatively. “I know just how you’re going to get an in with Cam.”
“That’s a bold statement, Missy.” He proceeded along the approach to the dropoff zone.
“His finals.”
“Say what?” He pumped the brakes to avoid rear-ending the car ahead.
“He’s awfully stressed about them, honey,” Missy went on, unfazed. “Why don’t you help him study?”
The suggestion turned Jason’s cheeks red. “I—I don’t know, sweetheart. You know books aren’t really my—”
“It would mean so much to him, Jason. And what a great way for the two of you to spend some quality time together.”
Jason, however, appeared less than convinced. “Maybe, but you know I was a jock in high school, right?” Flowing with traffic, they crept toward the departures drop-off. “How much help am I really gonna be?”
A bemused grin warmed Missy’s face. “Come on, babe. This is the twelfth grade we’re talking about, not a master’s degree.” They arrived outside the door. “Don’t worry, if I know you, then you’re more than up to the task.” With that, she pecked him on the cheek and exited the car, luggage in hand. “See you in a week!”
* * *
Driving home, Jason found himself filled with an increasing sense of dread. He didn’t know anything about math or science or history. Heck, he’d barely managed to graduate high school himself back in the day. How was he supposed to be of any use when it came to learning?
Still, he did want more than anything to finally connect with his step-son. And with Cam set to move out after the school year, time was running out.
He’d always expected Cam to take some time to warm up. The way that rat Randy had treated him, it honestly surprised Jason that Cam hadn’t become a runaway years ago.
He was a good kid. Troubled, maybe. But who wouldn’t be after a father like his?
He shook his head to himself. No. Randy was a lot of things, but a father was most definitely not one of them. That scumbag didn’t come close to deserving a son.
Especially not a fine young man like Cam. Sure, Jason had always envisioned a son who took more closely after himself, but at the end of the day, what mattered was having a family in whatever size, shape, or color that family came in.
Still, though, he and Cam were like oil and water. Where Jason was athletic, Cam was bookish. Where Jason was outgoing, Cam preferred solitude. Whether the two would ever find common ground, he was beginning to lose hope.
He inhaled a breath as he turned the car onto their street. The time had come. Seven days. Seven days of having Cam all to himself.
You can do this, Jason, he pep-talked himself. Who knows, maybe you and Cam are more alike than you think. Surely, you’ll find something to bond over.
Clicking the remote, he inserted the car into the garage.
* * *
“Cam! There’s my man!” Jason put on his best ‘cool dad’ persona as he entered through the backdoor.
Cam, who’d relocated from his bedroom down to the kitchen island, raised his head from his books. “Oh, uh, hi.”
Jason breezed up to the counter casually. “Whatcha reading, sport?”
Quickly, Jason covered up his sex ed textbook before it caught his step-dad’s eye. “Nothing.”
Jason furrowed his brow, calculating. “Say, you’re not studying, are you? On a Friday night?”
Cam shrugged, noncommittal.
Checking his wristwatch, Jason clicked his tongue. It was almost midnight. “Shouldn’t you be in bed right now, sport?”
Another shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
The look in Jason’s eyes said he was struggling to compute. “So…you decided to hit the books?” He shook his head to himself. “You are definitely a better student than I ever was.”
If he was hoping to get a response, then Jason was in for a letdown. Silent, he stroked his chin as he debated his plan of approach. “Say, I’ve got an idea.”
“Is that so?” Cam did his best to sound disinterested. His mom hadn’t even been gone an hour, and already Jason was trying to get chummy.
“Uh-huh.” Jason leaned in over the island. “But you can’t let your mom find out.”
“Oh?” A hint of intrigue crept into Cam’s voice. He certainly wasn’t expecting something like that out of Jason’s mouth. What exactly was he angling for?
“You can keep a secret from her, can’t you, sport?”
Cam rubbed his shoulder, nervous. “I—I guess?” Something about this was beginning to feel fishy.
Jason nodded approvingly. “Well, since it’s getting late…”
Thank you, Captain Obvious. “Yeah?”
“And it’s just the two of us men here…”
Well, at least he didn’t call me a boy. “Sure?”
“How about…”
“This is gonna be lame, isn’t it?”
“A guys’ movie night!”
Cam felt then as if his stomach had just bottomed out. “Seriously?”
“Heck, yeah, I’m serious.” Jason threw an arm around his step-son. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You can’t study all the time, Cam. Sometimes, you gotta learn to cut loose.”
The remark only prompted an unenthused shrug. A movie night with my step-dad? Talk about loser-ville.
Despite Cam’s less-than-thrilled reaction, though, Jason remained undeterred. “Here, you go pop some popcorn,” he continued. “And don’t forget, I like mine extra buttery.”
* * *
The movie was all queued up when Cam arrived down in the basement living room. Jason, who’d traded his jeans and crewneck for a tank paired with athletic shorts, had made himself comfortable on the large sectional sofa.
“Hiya, sport,” he greeted, arms and legs spread wide across the couch. “Perfect timing.”
Cam took a seat on the edge of the cushion, steaming bowl of popcorn between his legs. What mortal offense had he committed in a former life to deserve this torture right now?
Jason tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “You like action flicks, sport?”
Cam watched him swallow the hefty bite. “Uh…not really?”
“Well, you’ll like this one,” Jason assured, sinking into the couch. He fixed Cam with an expectant glance. “You gonna get comfy, or are we expecting the Queen of England to drop by?”
Obediently, Cam did his best to relax into the oversized pillows. Just being near Jason, he could feel the machismo radiate. God, he wished something would put him out of his misery. Maybe he’d get lucky and spontaneously combust.
No?
Oh, well. One could dream.
Tucking his legs beneath him, Cam settled himself into the sole corner of the sofa that Jason hadn’t yet managed to sprawl his limbs across.
A sudden realization dawned on him then. Usually, Jason clothed himself in slim-fitting shirts, smartly-tailored slacks. And with a muscled, athletic build like his, why wouldn’t he? Tonight—in his loose, draping tank top and flowing, baggy shorts—was the first time Cam could recall seeing his step-dad so at ease.
Apparently, both of them were in need of a little cutting loose.
“I hope you’re ready to be wowed, sport. ’Cause this movie here is a classic.” With a click of the remote, the TV lit up bright.
And to his surprise, Cam was wowed indeed.
“Who is that?”
Jason cracked a grin at Cam taking in the he-man on the screen. “Only the greatest action star to ever live.” It was perhaps the most excited Cam had ever heard his step-dad. “Curt Chaos, the man who stops danger dead in its tracks.”
Cam nodded, engrossed. Whoever this Curt guy was, he had to be the most macho hunk his eyes had ever seen. The dude was a tank. Every last inch of him—from his glistening, bronze biceps to his chiseled, too-sharp-to-touch jawline—was pure, unbridled testosterone.
And it had young Cam captivated.
“So, he’s the star of the movie?”
Jason tossed back a chuckle. “Cam,” he replied, amused, “there’s an entire series.”
And just like that, Cam decided this guys’ night wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
* * *
The movie, it turned out, left something to be desired when it came to plot, or acting, or anything that traditionally made a film worth watching, frankly. But it was of little concern to Cam. For what Beat ’Em Up Death Match 5 lacked in artistic merit, it more than made up for in aesthetics.
Particularly when it came to its leading man.
“Enjoying the film, are we?” Jason, eyeing Cam’s rapt attention to the screen, asked with a grin.
It was all Cam could do to nod in silence, glued to the herculean god that was Curt Chaos.
“Told you.” Jason released another chuckle, oblivious to the true infatuation that had come over Cam. “It’s time your generation learned to appreciate quality cinema.”
Cam, for his part, couldn’t have agreed more.
Jason shook his head in spite of himself. “Say, hand me some of that popcorn, sport. You’ve been hogging it all night.” He lifted the bowl from Cam’s lap.
And turned beet red instantly. “Oh, sport, uh…”
The comment snapped Cam back to reality. “Huh?”
It was then that he registered a firmness below his waist. Apparently, Mr. Chaos really had, well, piqued his interest.
The next thing Cam knew, all the color had drained from his face.
Which, frankly, didn’t help matters any by freeing up even more blood flow down to his nether regions.
“Oh, fuck.”
Now would have been a great time for the universe to hurry it up with that whole spontaneous combustion thing.
Jason released a chuckle. “Don’t worry, sport. We’re both guys here.” He tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “I was eighteen once too, you know. Man, do I miss those days.” He looked into the distance as if to reminisce.
Cam froze in panic. Nope. Uh-uh. No way am I taking a trip down horny memory lane with my step-dad. He crossed his legs in an attempt to conceal his hard-on.
Jason shook off his daze. “Don’t be embarrassed, sport.” He flicked a glance at the tent between Cam’s legs. “That thing is nothing to be ashamed of.” He tossed Cam a wink.
Which, frankly, made him want to keel over then even more.
Jason downed another handful of popcorn. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, though. Get too wrapped up in your studies, and you forget to take care of yourself.”
Cam cocked his head, tentative. “Take care of myself?”
A hint of nervousness revealed itself in Jason’s chuckle. “Well, sure, sport.”
The blank look from Cam that followed indicated the two were not speaking the same language.
Now it was Jason’s turn to blush. “Aww, come on, sport. Don’t tell me you’ve never…you know…with that thing?”
Cam only shrugged. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”
Rubbing his temple, Jason released an exasperated sigh. “Look, sport, I’m not the one to talk to about this. Why don’t you ask some of your buds.”
At this, Cam just lowered his head.
A crease appeared on Jason’s forehead. “You don’t have any buds, do you?”
Cam shook his head, ashamed.
Another long sigh passed Jason’s lips then. Cam couldn’t help but note the contrast with his step-dad’s typically cool, confident demeanor.
“Aww, you’ll figure it out, sport.” He returned the popcorn bowl to Cam. “You know what, it’s getting late for your step-dad. You go ahead and finish the movie. I think I’m gonna rinse off and hit the hay.” Standing to his feet, he mussed up Cam’s hair. “Night, sport.”
It was only then, as he watched Jason shuffle off to bed, that Cam realized he’d been struck with a thought. Objectively speaking, his step-father could have given the dreamy Curt Chaos a run for his money.
* * *
To his chagrin, Cam never did spontaneously combust, even despite the supreme humiliation he’d endured. How on Earth could he have let something like that happen?
Even now, his dick was still throbbing. Go away already, would you? he pled to his rock-hard erection. The last thing he wanted was to continue being reminded of the way he’d just made a fool of himself in front of his step-dad.
He pressed the pause button on the TV remote. What had gotten into him? He wasn’t gay…was he? Sure, the girls at school never had held much interest for him, but neither had the boys, for that matter.
Curt Chaos, though, was no boy. He was a man in every sense of the word. And not just physically. Yes, his rugged physique—steel-cable muscles, forest-thick body hair, and heavy, bulging crotch—could have put a certain Schwarzenegger to shame, but even more than his mere exterior, it was what Curt Chaos represented that sent Cam’s heart racing.
Whatever the challenge, no matter how dire, Curt could always rise to the occasion. He could always be counted on to save the day. So long as the intrepid strongman was around, a widow or orphan—or maybe even a scamp like Cam—could rest assured that they’d be safe and protected.
Suddenly becoming self-aware, he shook himself out of it. Jesus, Cam. What are you thinking? Curt Chaos is old enough to be your father. He can’t really be the reason you’ve got a raging boner right now.
Speaking of fathers…
What Jason must have thought of him right now. Popping a boner at some cliché caricature of testosterone-fueled machismo. Especially when Cam himself resembled nothing of the sort. This was not how he wanted to get this guys’ week started.
Thankfully, Jason seemed cool about it. Cam was lucky, he supposed, to have a step-dad as casual around sex as his. It probably came with experience like Jason’s.
Gee, too bad his step-dad couldn’t take his sex ed final for him.
The thought of Jason’s sexual prowess sent a powerful twitch through Cam’s cock then.
“What the fuck?” he said to his crotch as if it could somehow hear him. You can’t be thinking that way about Jason. He’s your step-dad, Cam. What the fuck is wrong with you?
If only Jason wasn’t his step-father. The dude was a stallion. Like grade-A stud material. A few sessions with him, and Cam would probably be ready to ace his sex ed final.
A wave of clarity came over him then. Eww, Cam, he thought to himself. He brushed off his arms as if trying to wipe away the slime of his lurid visions. Don’t be a perv.
But try though he might, he still couldn’t erase the image of Jason—thick and muscled and sprawled welcomingly out over the couch, barely concealed in those loose-fitting shorts and tank top of his—from his memory.
Why had his mom needed to pick up such a hunk?
Seeking to distract himself, he attempted to conjure images of the fearless Curt Chaos. His massive pecs, his sculpted torso, his tree trunk thighs, his…suddenly, a realization struck Cam. Picturing Curt Chaos, it wasn’t the strongman’s face he saw in his imagination, but…
His step-dad’s?!
“Fuck, no. Fuck, no. Fuck, no. Fuck, no.”
What the fuck was Jason still doing in his head?
This was going downhill fast. Perhaps Jason had the right idea, going to bed. Clearly, trying to outwit the lurid fantasies in his mind was only making matters worse. What Cam needed now was to call it a night and forget this ever happened. He still had to survive seven whole days of quality time alone with his step-dad. If he didn’t nip this in the bud now, then this whole guys’ week was going to be even harder than he’d anticipated—literally.
Shutting off the lights, he made his way upstairs to get some shuteye. God willing, this would all be better in the morning.
A little voice inside him, though, left serious room for doubt.
* * *
Cam’s mom had always dreamed of owning a big, grand house. A home she could be proud of. A home that said, Yes, the Townsend family is living the good life.
What they got instead, though, was a home that said, Gee, I hope they got an inspection.
Despite its outward appearance, Cam had never minded the home he’d been raised in. Sure, it wasn’t a mansion, but still, it was a roof over their heads.
Every now and then, though, Cam found himself wishing that roof had come with just a bit more space underneath.
He knew from school that others his age had bedrooms at the other end of the house from their parents, maybe even on an entirely separate floor. Not him. Cam had the luxury of a bedroom that was sandwiched up nice and cozy against his own mom and step-dad’s, with nothing but a single wall between.
A single paper-thin wall.
Which, at the moment, was proving more of a nuisance than usual.
Primarily because it did absolutely nothing to stifle the sounds of Jason taking that shower he’d mentioned earlier.
Lying in bed, Cam wrapped his pillow around his head in an effort to muffle the pitter-patter. Not that the white noise of falling water was so bad on its own. It was the scene Cam knew was accompanied by the sound that was keeping him wide-eyed.
The shower in his parents’ bedroom was massive. It was one of the few luxuries his mother had managed to incorporate into the house. Cam had never used it himself—it was strictly off-limits to him—but judging by its appearance, it was sheer, decadent indulgence.
His mother had opted for crisp, white ceramic tile. A far cry from the yellowing PVC panels that lined the shower he used. The fixtures included a luxurious rainfall mount, which sure beat the crap out of his own sputtering pressure-washer of a showerhead. The only part he wasn’t so crazy about was the shower’s, well, exposure. With nothing encasing it but a clear glass panel, his parents’ shower certainly didn’t offer much in the way of privacy. At least his own crinkly shower curtain allowed him to clean himself in peace.
But then again, he didn’t imagine a verifiable jock like Jason was shy about his body.
The next thing Cam knew, his mind’s eye was fantasizing about his step-dad in the shower. The suds clinging to his chest. The steam swirling around his legs. The rivulets of water cascading down the contours of his ripped, lean muscles.
Slow your roll, Cam, he chastised himself. Thinking like this won’t help you fall asleep anytime soon.
Neither, of course, would the boner that had returned at the vision he’d just conjured.
“Goddamnit,” he sighed. He pulled the blankets up over his face. “Come on, Cam. You can do this. All you’ve gotta do is just ignore it.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth, though, than a sound issued forth through the wall that Cam couldn’t possibly bring himself to ignore. Not if he tried with every fiber of his being.
It was a moan.
Jason’s moan.
Alarmed, Cam bolted upright in bed. But as he listened more closely, he realized this wasn’t a moan of anguish, or even of discomfort. The moaning coming from Jason in the bathroom sounded…pleasureful?
What the fuck was going on in there?
His whole body froze—one part of him dying to observe whatever scene was unfolding on the other side of his bedroom wall, the other part sure he would die if he actually managed to catch a glimpse.
You shouldn’t do this, Cam, he told himself firmly. You’re going to regret it. Spying on your step-dad in the shower? How fucking weird is that?
Another moan droned through the bedroom wall.
Fuck, Cam. You’re not actually thinking about doing this…
Right?
RIGHT?
Wrong.
Lifting the covers off himself, Cam tiptoed toward his bedroom door. Whatever was behind his step-dad’s carnal pleasure, Cam knew that somehow he needed to find out.
* * *
I can’t believe you’re doing this, Cam. With every step toward his parents’ bedroom, the little voice inside him grew stronger.
Still, though, it was no match for the strength of Cam’s curiosity.
With the finesse of a master jewel thief, he cracked open the bedroom door. It had to be opened slowly, Cam knew. One creak, and the jig would be up.
The hiss of the shower was louder now without the closed door to muffle the sound. To think that, just across the bedroom, inside the master bath, was the man whose naked body Cam hadn’t been able to put out of his mind all evening.
He was just about to slip inside the bedroom when there went that pesky voice in his head nagging at him again. Come on, Cam. This is crazy. Jason is your step-father. Are you sure you want to do this?
Just then, Jason’s voice rose over the hiss of the shower. “Mmm, fuuuck.”
Hell, yes, he wanted to do this. Swiftly, he slipped through the doorway and into the bedroom.
Now inside, he found himself immersed in a haze of steam. Jason had left the bathroom door partly open, allowing trails of mist to pour out through the gap.
The warmth swirled around Cam gently, wrapping his body in a heat that made him wish he could remove some of his own clothes. It was practically like a sauna in here.
He felt himself harden. Enveloped by the same steam that had flowed against his step-dad’s body…his step-dad’s built, manly body. The thought made his heart beat double-time.
He had to keep going. Silent, he peeled himself from the safety of the wall and crept, step by step, out into the room, slowly inching his way ever closer toward the bathroom, toward his naked and exposed step-dad and whatever carnal pleasure to which he held the secret.
“Mmm, yeah, that’s good.”
Cam did his best to stifle the sharp breath that filled his lungs then at the thrill of his step-dad’s moans. Fuck, what was Jason doing in there?
In just a few moments, he was about to find out.
Heart racing, he approached the threshold to the bathroom, door left tantalizingly ajar. Right behind that panel of oak lay the fantasy he’d been dreaming about come to life.
His step-dad Jason, that hunk of a man, that forbidden man, exposed and on display.
He drew in a deep breath. Once he did this, there’d be no going back. Whatever he was about to see, never in his life would he ever be able to un-see it. He was still sure he wanted to do this?
More than ever.
Hovering behind the bathroom door, he counted down slowly in his head.
Three…
Two…
One…
He peeked his head out from behind the bathroom door.
Holyyy…
There before him stood his step-father Jason, his body fully nude, every inch of him on display.
And suffice it to say, those inches were plentiful.
No wonder his mom had fallen for him.
Jason’s body was even more pristine than Cam had imagined. He had classic proportions—that perfect build you had to possess naturally. But even so, his step-dad didn’t simply count on genetics. Jason put in his time at the gym, and it showed. From his shapely shoulders to his tight torso, from his bulging biceps to his thick thighs, from his plump pecs to his firm, juicy ass, the guy could have been a fitness model.
Or maybe even a different kind of model, with the equipment he had swinging between his legs. Not that Cam considered himself an expert on the male genitalia. He’d never even seen a porno for fear of getting caught. But at least judging by his, ahem, field research in the locker rooms, his step-dad left the competition in the dust.
He admired the cock from afar. His step-dad was hard, just like himself.
Well, maybe not just like himself. Jason had him beat by a couple of inches at least. And if his comment earlier was to be believed, Cam wasn’t exactly small, either. He felt his breath hitch. If Jason out-dicked him, that meant his step-dad must have been a legend among cocks.
A sense of pride filled up his chest then. Truth be told, Cam had never given much thought to the size of his own dick. It had always just been…there. But if it was enough to earn the praise of his king-size step-dad, then clearly he had a tool to be proud of.
If only he knew what to do with it.
He returned his attention to Jason. His step-dad’s erection pointed straight upward, so that the water rained down directly on his tender, sensitive cockhead.
Drooling, Cam watched streams of water trickle down the length of his step-father’s shaft. Jesus, that thing stretched on forever. And not just lengthwise. The girth of Jason’s member nearly made Cam do a double take. That pipe was practically as thick as Cam’s forearm.
Adorning Jason’s pole was a thick patch of dark, masculine hair. Trimmed, Cam observed, but conservatively, so as to preserve its natural manliness.
Below his step-father’s erection hung a pair of nuts the size of golf balls. All Cam could think was that it certainly made sense now why Jason gave off so much testosterone.
The sight of his step-father, glistening and in the buff, spurred a heaviness between Cam’s legs. And as Cam continued watching, the heaviness grew into an ache, like an urge pent up inside him that needed to find release.
Frankly, he could have gone for a shower himself then, come to think of it.
And he knew just the man he dreamt of showering with.
A pang of guilt landed in his stomach then. Jesus, Cam. What the fuck is wrong with you? You aren’t supposed to have thoughts like this about Jason. Even if he is built like an Olympian, he’s still your step-dad. And that makes him off-limits.
Right?
He shook his head clear. Of course, Cam, that makes him off-limits. Besides, you’re still not even sure if you really are gay. You’re just getting confused by all the hormones you’ve got flying around. And with this sex ed final you’ve got coming up, you’ve simply got sex on the brain more than usual.
A wave of calm blanketed over him as he returned to rational thinking. He wasn’t actually experiencing sexual attraction to his step-dad. He was simply a horned-up eighteen-year-old. It was merely an issue of mind over matter.
Why, he bet if he really looked at Jason, if he really, truly looked at him, he’d realize his step-dad wasn’t even all that hot. He was simply just another dude.
Cam stole a glance again in an attempt to prove his point.
He swallowed a nervous gulp then at the sight his eyes beheld. I guess I stand corrected.
An anguished sigh escaped him. Who are you kidding, Cam? Your step-dad is a total beefcake. It doesn’t matter if you try to deny it. You know deep down you want him.
This had been a mistake. How was he supposed to survive this guys’ week now? Now that he’d invaded Jason’s personal space. Now that he’d forever crossed a forbidden line. Now that he’d seen his step-father up close and personal like he’d never seen him before.
It was time to go to bed and forget this ever happened. Maybe if he left now, he could pretend it was all just a dream.
There was just one question he still hadn’t answered, though. What had Jason been doing to warrant that sensual moaning he’d heard earlier?
And then, almost as if on cue, Cam recognized his step-father’s voice murmuring in the shower.
“Mmm, Cammm…”
TO BE CONTINUED
Taking the Step, Part 2
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
Hovering behind the bathroom door, Cam felt his heart shoot up into his throat. That couldn’t have been his name he’d just heard Jason moaning inside the shower.
Right?
For a moment, he debated peeking out from behind the door again, but ultimately, he decided against it. He obviously must have misheard. It was probably just his hormones acting up.
But then, Jason’s voice rose over the hiss of the shower once more.
“Mmm, Cammm, that’s right…”
This time, it was unmistakable. Pressed against the door, Cam felt his erection pulse inside his pants at the sound of his name on Jason’s lips. Was his step-dad dreaming up fantasies of…him?
This was becoming seriously unhinged.
Drawing in a breath, he ran through a mental status report to center himself. At first when he’d learned that, thanks to his mom’s last-minute business trip, he’d be stuck home alone for a week of quality male bonding with his new step-dad Jason, Cam had felt like he’d been trapped inside a nightmare.
Not that he had anything against Jason personally. It was just that his step-dad was such a…a dude. Meanwhile, here he was a shy, awkward eighteen-year-old who didn’t know the first thing about cars or sports.
Or, for that matter, sex.
Never in his wildest dreams could Cam have imagined that, mere hours into their special guys’ week, not only would he come to see his step-dad in quite literally a whole new light, but also that his step-dad would be experiencing some likewise forbidden desire.
You should get out of here, Cam, he thought. Even if your step-dad is a certifiable hunk, spying on him taking a shower is a next-level kind of messed up.
But then again, wasn’t there also something a little messed up about the way Jason had been moaning his name?
Cam shook the thought away. He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to that movie night on the couch. Just look what it had led to. What he should have done was study for his senior year finals like he’d planned.
Granted, the final that had him stressing out the most was not exactly unrelated to the way this evening had panned out. When it came to sex ed, Cam didn’t doubt for a moment that his step-dad could give a lesson far superior than his dusty, old textbook.
And where better to begin than with discovering whatever act of pleasure he was performing on himself?
“Yeahhh, that’s perrrfect.”
Cam adjusted his hard-on in his shorts. A quick look couldn’t hurt. For research.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, he inched his eyes slowly back around the edge of the half-open door.
And the sight that greeted him nearly dropped his jaw to the floor.
His step dad was…giving himself a cock massage?
Holyyy fuuuck.
Cam felt like his eyes had just shot out from his skull. This was the secret behind Jason’s pleasureful moans?
His pleasureful moans bearing Cam’s name?
This was way better entertainment than that dumb, old movie.
A thrill rushed out across Cam’s body then. A thrill that pulsed strongest deep in the pit of his groin.
With rapt attention, he studied the sight of his step-dad stroking.
Jason caressed his cock slowly, gliding his hand along the full length of its shaft. His hips followed the rhythm, too, gently driving his hard, rigid meat into his wet, sloppy fist.
With his free arm, Jason lifted his hand above his head to run his fingers through his hair. A dark, furry pit entered Cam’s line of sight. He licked his lips greedily. God, was Jason sexy.
A realization dawned on him then. So this was what his step-dad had meant earlier when he’d asked Cam if he’d ever taken care of himself before. Now that he was seeing firsthand the bliss this ritual unleashed, it finally made sense why Jason couldn’t believe any guy could be so tragically depriving himself of nature’s greatest gift to man.
Clearly, Jason was a professional when it came to enjoying the, well, perks of manhood.
Yes, sir, Cam wouldn’t have minded at all getting a little education from his step-dad.
He felt a sudden urge to pull out his own cock then. To touch it in the same way that Jason touched his own. To finally discover this secret pleasure of masculinity. To stroke his cock in unison, as one, with his step-father.
No, he decided. It was too risky. Already, he was playing with fire. Trying to take things further would surely invite catastrophe. Tonight, he was merely observing.
Which, honestly, with a show like this, was just fine by him.
Jason added his free hand then to his cock, both fists now wrapped around his shaft, milking it sensually under the warm, cascading water. A low moan droned out from his lips. It was like he’d entered another plane of existence.
Cam bit his lip hungrily. What he wouldn’t have given to learn this special skill from his step-dad. Surely, someone with Jason’s kind of experience would make an excellent teacher. And that was just what Cam needed. Someone to show him, guide him, help him find his way.
To open up the gates to this exciting, new world of exploration.
Just then, Jason’s moans began to intensify. Cam felt his heart rate tick up. Something was happening.
Extending his arm, Jason supported himself against the shower wall, trembling as if his whole body had been overcome by weakness. Still, with his other hand, he continued pumping harder, faster, stronger.
“Fuuuck…”
What is going on?
“Oh, mannn…”
Is he all right?
“Jesusss…”
Should I be worried right now?
Jason’s whole body clenched then. Every last muscle on his thick, built frame flexed as if in agony.
Except this, by all appearances, was anything but agony. A glow of ecstasy lit up his step-father’s face as he threw his head back in bliss.
“Ohhh, Cammm…”
The next thing Cam knew, he was watching a thick, creamy fluid shoot out from the tip of his step-dad’s cock, plastering the shower wall before him with a sticky, gooey splat.
Holy fuck, was that was this was all about? He watched as Jason collapsed against the shower tile. His step-dad’s chest rose and fell like he’d just run a marathon.
Cam’s voice whispered quietly, “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Suddenly, Jason sprung back up straight.
Shit! He hadn’t heard anything, had he?
Like a felon on the lam, Cam beat a retreat for the hallway. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if his step-dad caught him…watching.
It was a few minutes later when Jason finally entered Cam’s room to check on him. Never in his life had Cam pretended so hard to appear fast asleep.
* * *
An hour later, Cam found himself still wide awake. How was he supposed to get any sleep after witnessing a show like that?
Lying in bed, he tried every trick in the book to drift off. Guided imagery, deep breathing exercises…even counting sheep, for crying out loud.
No matter what he did, though, his heart continued to pound like…well, like how he wished he could be pounded by Jason, frankly.
Fuck, that had been an amazing performance. His ripped, hulking step-dad reveling in his masculinity. It was unlike anything Cam had ever seen before.
His cock propped up the sheet covering his body as the scene played back in his memory. His step-dad stroking with confidence. His step-dad stroking with abandon.
His step-dad stroking like the stallion of Cam’s dreams.
Fuck, Cam. What the fuck are you doing? Fantasizing about your step-father? Watching him was supposed to be about research. You know, for educational purposes only.
But, oh, the education he was ready to receive from Jason.
He shook himself out of it. This needed to end here. If he was to have any chance of surviving this week of quality male bonding, he had to get over this twisted daddy crush.
Doing so, unfortunately, would be easier said than done.
And what about the way Jason had moaned out his name? Certainly that meant the curiosity was anything but one-sided. It was only by coincidence that Jason happened to be Cam’s step-dad. Had his mom not just married him, he’d simply be another man on the street. So when you really thought about it, it wasn’t totally wrong feeling this sort of…attraction.
This sort of…connection.
Right?
Oh, boy. An existential breakdown had not been on his bingo card tonight.
There was one way, however, to get his mind off his troubles. Or at least, judging by the way it had transported Jason into such a state of bliss, it certainly appeared to be an effective way to take a load off.
Perhaps in more ways than one.
Cam’s cock pulsed again as he worked to conjure his memory of Jason stroking himself. Could it have really been that all this time, this was the remedy to those constant boners he was always popping?
He was about to reach under the sheet, when a sudden thought stopped him short. What if he didn’t do it right? What if he wasn’t able to replicate the self-pleasure that Jason had so skillfully performed? Worse yet, what if he did something wrong and ended up hurting himself?
He shook his head clear. More likely than not, Cam realized, he was overthinking this. All guys played with their cocks, apparently. How hard—no pun intended—could it actually be?
He took a mental step back. Still, all things considered, this was a situation that called for caution. You couldn’t be too careful, he figured, your first time taking care of yourself.
Then again, if the other guys his age were doing this, what was to stop him from partaking, too? It was nature’s way. The thing man’s anatomy was designed for.
He inhaled deep. Enough wasting time, he decided. Was he ready to do this or not?
A small voice inside his head supplied the answer. All right, Cam. Let’s do this.
Pushing down the covers, Cam lowered the waistband of his shorts. His cock, hard as a rock, slapped against his abdomen as it sprung out from confinement.
“Well, hello, friend,” he said, pleased with himself.
Lying on his back, he blushed at the sight of his fat rod staring him head-on. It was hard to say which was redder—Cam’s cheeks or his cockhead.
His mind recalled Jason’s compliment earlier that evening on the couch. Cam did have a nice cock, didn’t he? Maybe not quite as big as his step-dad’s, but still a pipe to be proud of, if he did say so himself.
Just how big was he, he wondered. The thought had never struck him to try and measure himself. Was that a dumb idea? It was probably a dumb idea. Still, weren’t all guys just a little curious what exactly they were packing?
Maybe some other time. Frankly, the cock that truly held his curiosity was his step-dad’s. Just like Jason’s, Cam’s cock sported a thick vein that ran the length of his shaft. Also like Jason, Cam possessed a set of balls that hung low and freely.
Yet despite the similarities between his step-dad’s cock and his own, the two men’s tools were not without their differences. Cam, for example, had decidedly less embellishment. While Jason boasted a thick, burly carpet adorning his manhood, Cam’s region offered just a modest patch of light, fine hair.
The differences continued at the opposite ends of their rods. While Cam’s head was exposed, Jason’s was intact with what Cam could only describe as a hood that slid back and forth hypnotically over his tip as he stroked.
He lowered his hand closer to his meat. Never before had he touched himself the way he was about to, as a man. The very thought sparked a thrill that made him feel electric.
Without realizing, he held his breath still, as if his body somehow knew not to do anything that could possibly distract from this moment.
And then, it happened.
Contact.
The breath Cam had been holding in rushed out of his lungs. This was a feeling like nothing he’d ever felt before.
He only touched himself lightly. Best to start slow, he figured. He had a long way to go before he’d be a master stroker like his step-dad. There was no telling at this point how much his young, inexperienced cock could take.
Even this, though—brushing his fingertips along the length of his shaft—was mind-blowing. How had he never thought to try something like this before?
His body squirmed in his bed as he pleasured himself in this new and exciting way. To think that all this time, he’d been missing out on this euphoria.
He certainly wouldn’t be missing out anymore, that was for sure. This, he realized, was something he could give himself anytime he wanted. Anytime he pleased.
Fuck, it was great being a guy.
Growing in confidence, he firmed up his grip around his shaft. Maybe he could do this more like Jason.
Jason. Visions of his step-father lit up in his mind’s eye. That built, burly chest. Firm, full ass. And dark, curly hair covering it all.
“Fuuuck, Jason.”
He froze, well, stiff. The sound of his voice moaning his step-father’s name in lust sent a shockwave through his body. Did I just say that? Fuck, I did not just say that.
As much as he tried to convince himself, though, he knew there was no denying it. He, Cameron Townsend, eighteen years old, graduating senior at Oakville High, was jacking off to fantasies of his step-father.
Talk about a mind fuck.
Especially since he knew that, judging by the way his step-dad had been moaning his name, the attraction was decidedly mutual.
The question was, did that make it less weird…or more? Sure, Jason might not have been his real dad, but still, he occupied the role a father was meant to fill.
Meanwhile, Cam had a few ideas of his own regarding things he’d like Jason to fill.
Surrendering to his urges, Cam let his mind run wild. Shameless, he indulged in his memories of his step-dad’s naked body glistening under the waterfall of the shower.
Waves of pleasure radiated across his body, following the rhythm as he pumped his quivering cock.
He began to pick up his speed. The pleasure intensified deliciously. Following his instincts, he lifted his hips off the bed and bucked them into the air.
He wanted more, though. More than what he could provide himself. Sure, stroking his meat felt amazing. But if solo play felt this good, imagine the pleasure of experiencing someone else.
Of someone else experiencing him.
And for Cam, there was but one person he wanted that someone to be.
His step-dad Jason.
He gripped his cock two-handed now, just as he’d observed Jason do earlier. Thrusting his hips, he drove his erection into his two fists.
“Fuuuck. Oh, fuuuck, Jason.”
Intensity mounted inside him. As if something within him was building to a climax. He wondered if he should stop. His instinct, though, forced him to keep going. Faster and faster he pumped, accumulating a pleasure deep within himself he didn’t know was possible.
The sensation took over his body, holding him powerless against his own biological cravings. It was as if Cam was no longer in control, as if some carnal force had possessed him. He was reaching the point of no return. A powerful surge spread out from his groin.
An image of his step-father—naked, strong, virile—appeared in his mind’s eye.
“Fuck me, Jaaason.”
With a powerful thrust, a load of semen burst from Cam’s cock, launching into the air on an arc overtop his head.
He collapsed with a thud against his mattress, drained quite literally in every sense of the word.
Jesus, was that intense. Now he knew why guys were so obsessed with this.
He craned back his neck to examine the splatter of cum he’d painted on his headboard. Was it normal to shoot a load that big? It was almost as big as Jason’s.
Jason. He felt his high begin to dissipate. He hadn’t really just cum to a vision of his step-dad…had he?
A pang of guilt crept up from his stomach. This is messed up, Cam. Whatever weird kink Jason has for you, that’s his problem. You cannot get tangled up in it. For fuck’s sake, dude, he’s your step-dad.
Rolling over in bed, he pulled the covers back over himself. This wouldn’t happen again.
But as he drifted to sleep, he knew a small part of him wished that somehow maybe it could.
* * *
The crackle of bacon sizzling in the pan greeted Cam as he arrived in the kitchen the next morning.
“Hiya, sport,” Jason beamed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Cam, wincing at the light, tiredly rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was far too early for anyone to be this chipper.
“Sleep well?” Jason asked as he flipped the bacon in the pan.
Still squinting, Cam worked to dust the cobwebs from his brain. “Uh, sure, I guess.” Running his fingers through his bedhead, he installed himself into one of the island barstools. His mind still had yet to catch up with his body.
Slowly, though, his memory—in all its tawdry glory—came back into focus. Holy fuck, had last night been real? No, it couldn’t have been real. Surely, it must have been a dream. Some crazy, hormone-fueled dream brought on by the sex-crazed brain he apparently had now thanks to his anxiety over his impending sex ed final.
Right?
Not even 8 A.M., and already he was having his first existential panic of the day. Great.
“Me, I slept like a rock,” Jason said, manning the pans on the stove. “I don’t know what it was, but something about yesterday really took it out of me.”
Cam, for one, knew the feeling.
His vision finally coming into focus, he lifted up his head in an attempt to rejoin the living.
And the sight that greeted him nearly knocked him off his feet.
Jason was clothed in nothing but his boxer shorts and a crisp, white apron.
He crossed his legs to hide the bulge that was beginning to form between his legs. Come on…now? He’d just jacked off last night. This thing couldn’t be awake again already? Especially since he wasn’t even fully awake yet.
Cam had to admit it—his step-dad didn’t look bad in that tight, little apron, barely covering his nipples but still showing off plenty of his built pecs and massive arms. Tufts of hair poked out around the apron’s edges, a lustworthy tease of the rest of him lying beneath the fabric’s folds.
Just then, Jason’s bright and perky voice snapped Cam back to reality. “Coffee?” He raised a fresh pot.
Cam wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never tried it?”
Jason cast him a look like his step-son had just sprouted a second head. “Never tried coffee? You can’t be serious.”
Cam just shrugged, embarrassed.
“Don’t tell me…it’s because your mother doesn’t want you drinking it.” He folded his arms, smirking.
“She says it’ll stunt my growth.”
“Oh, don’t listen to that. Next thing you know, she’ll be telling you your palms will turn hairy if—” He stopped himself short. “You know what, never mind.” Recovering, he stroked his chin mischievously. “Tell you what, you promise not to tell your mom, and I’ll let you try your first cup of coffee. What do you say to that?”
Cam considered how to respond. This was now the second time so far on their special guys’ week that Jason had asked him to keep something from his mother. What was up with that?
Before Cam could answer, though, Jason made the decision for him. “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.” He flashed him a grin. “After all, you’re going off to college soon, and trust me, you’re going to need it then.” He poured Cam a cuppa thick, black joe.
Cam accepted the mug hesitantly. Just the smell was enough to jolt him back to life.
“Go on,” Jason said with a chuckle. “Give it a try.”
Tentative, Cam brought the cup to his lips. Here goes nothing. He took a timid sip.
“Eww, people actually like this stuff?” He pushed the mug away violently.
Jason returned a hearty guffaw. “I guess you could call it an acquired taste.” Crossing to the fridge, he pulled out a carton of half-and-half. “How about you try a little cream? A healthy shot of cream never hurt anyone.”
Cam arched a skeptical eyebrow.
Jason’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry, bad joke. I’ll, uh, tell you when you’re older.”
“I know what you’re talking about, Jason.”
Curiosity piqued then on Jason’s face. “Oh? I thought you said you’d never…never mind.” He returned the mug, its contents now ostensibly milkier, to Cam. “Here, give this a try.”
Cautious, Cam went in for a second attempt. He took a small sip. His eyes lit up in revelation. “Say, that’s not bad.” He downed another swig eagerly. “I think I could get used to this.”
Spinning back to the fridge, Jason licked his lips wryly. “Note to self. My boy likes his cream.” He returned to the island, sans half-and-half. “So, how do you want to kick off your first full day of our one-on-one guys’ week?”
The coffee seemed to sour in Cam’s stomach then. “I was kind of planning on studying…”
The suggestion left Jason taken aback. “On a beautiful Saturday like today?” He shook his head as he plated them two heaping servings of bacon, eggs, and toast. “No son of mine is going to waste away a warm, sunny day stuck inside with his books.”
Serving Cam his plate, Jason furrowed his brow in thought. “Tell you what, sport. I’ll make you a deal. You come with me this afternoon and do your best to live a little, and then this evening, I’ll help you study for whatever subject you want. Fair?”
Cam watched in silence as his step-father, still clad in nothing but his skimpy, white apron, ripped off a hearty bite from a hot strip of bacon. Nothing could have been further from his idea of a good time than an afternoon with Jason doing…whatever lame macho activity that jocks like him used to fill up their time.
Especially since he feared that, so long as he was with his step-dad, he might actually come to enjoy it.
“Come on,” Jason egged as he trapped Cam in a playful headlock. “It’ll be fun. I promise your step-dad will show you a good time.”
And though he couldn’t fathom how, something inside Cam told him that Jason intended to make good on that promise.
* * *
“All right, sport. Think fast.”
The next thing Cam knew, he was recoiling from a powerful blow to his chest that had practically knocked the wind out of him.
He picked up the pigskin from the grass.
“Gee, thanks for the warning.” Gingerly, he rubbed what was certain to turn into a massive, football-shaped bruise on his torso.
Across the yard, Jason propped his hands on his hips. “Is that any way to talk to your step-father? Your step-father who promised to help you with your studies tonight?”
Cam let out a groan. He didn’t care what Jason was promising him. Nothing could be worth the indignity of a game of toss-the-pigskin-around.
A game of pass-the-pig-around, though…
He shook the thought away. Snap out of it, Cam. Only you could take a nice and wholesome bonding activity and find a way to make it dirty.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, he knew, that Jason’s quality-time endeavor of choice was a backyard football toss. It was tragically on-brand for a former jock like his step-dad.
He released another groan. If anyone from school passed by to the sight of Cameron Townsend, confirmed nerd and all-around butterfingers, with a real, genuine football in his hands, they’d think they were hallucinating.
He lifted his gaze to the afternoon sky. Why him? Of all the shy, awkward eighteen-year-olds out there, why did he have to be the one to get stuck with a step-dad who could have been an NFL linebacker in another life? If playing backyard football was Jason’s idea of a good time, Cam didn’t know how he’d survive the rest of this special guys’ week.
Especially when his step-dad looked so good playing backyard football.
He lowered his eyes back down to the grass. God, was Jason a sight to see in that tight, skimpy sportswear of his. Just the view alone was enough to drive him wild. No one should have been allowed to be that sexy dressed in clothing made for getting sweaty.
At least not this kind of getting sweaty.
Don’t gawk, Cam, he instructed himself. Unfortunately, staying disciplined was becoming harder and harder.
In more ways than one.
The way Jason’s tank top clung to his chest, highlighting the contours of his big, juicy pecs and toned, rippling abs beneath. It sent electricity coursing through Cam’s veins. And with how those tiny booty shorts hugged his step-dad’s firm, round assets, Cam had to fight himself to maintain self-control.
Needless to say, the whole ensemble left decidedly little to the imagination.
Not that Cam needed to imagine, of course. The show he’d received the night before was still vividly etched into his mind’s eye.
Clearly, his attempts to put that little episode behind him weren’t exactly going as well as he’d hoped.
The sound of Jason’s voice then snapped him back to the present. “Come on, sport. I’m wide open.” He held out his hands to receive the ball from his step-son.
Cam shrugged, tentative. This was not going to be pretty. He had the hand-eye coordination of a drunken panda bear. In no scenario would this end in any fashion but Cam making a fool of himself.
He drew in a breath. “If you say so.” Adjusting his grip on the ball, Cam wound his arm back to give it a good throw. “Here goes nothing.”
The ball hurtled across the yard, arcing high in the sky between the two men. Cam watched as Jason’s eyes shot wide at the impressive trajectory his step-son had achieved.
The ball nearly knocked Jason off his feet as it made impact with his chest. “Wow, sport. I didn’t know you had that in you.”
Cam, for his part, had gone slack-jawed. Had he really just done that? This was now the second surprise to have come out of him since the start of this guys’ week.
Maybe a little quality time with his step-dad was just what he needed.
The next thing Cam knew, Jason had jogged across the lawn to meet him. “That’s my boy.” He found himself subjected to a good-natured noogie.
It couldn’t have surprised him more how easily he melted into his step-dad’s embrace.
Which made him all the more concerned when Jason suddenly pulled away.
“Sorry, sport,” he said, worry etched across his face. “I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t sure if…” He swallowed hard as if to reset.
Cam quirked a curious eyebrow. Well, this sure was out of character for his step-dad, the living incarnation of calm, masculine confidence.
“What I mean to say,” Jason finally managed to continue, “is, is it OK if I call you that? If I call you my boy?” He averted his eyes, nervous.
A beat of silence followed as Cam considered the question.
“I know I’m not your real dad,” Jason went on, shaking with nerves. “And that you’re also not my real son.” He shrugged, almost apologetic. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you.” He pressed his hand to Cam’s heart.
The warmth of his step-dad’s touch radiated across Cam’s system. He’d never considered himself big on touchy-feely stuff, but something about the way Jason felt against him, even through the cotton layer of his t-shirt, told him this was different.
“Of course you can call me your boy,” Cam said. “I guess I’m being honest, I think I might really like being your boy.”
The pair locked eyes, and for a brief moment, the world around them seemed to stand still.
Jason cleared his throat, and with that, reality returned. “I’m glad. Because I think I’d really like calling you that.”
He took a step back to peel off his shirt, revealing the hairy, bronzed chest Cam had been dying to see again. “Say, is it just me, or is it getting hot out here?”
In more ways than one, Cam wanted to reply.
Jason checked his wristwatch. The afternoon had gotten away from them. “Well, a deal’s a deal. What do you say we head inside for some hydration, and then we dive into your studies?”
This time, Cam’s words came out crystal clear. “I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
Cam’s pile of textbooks hit the kitchen counter with a thud.
“Oof, sport. They’ve really got you studying all this?”
What Cam didn’t say as he eyed his step-dad picking up his calculus manual like it was a rabid skunk was that most of these subjects were the least of his concerns.
What really had him worked up was…
Well, never mind that class. Never in a million years would he ask for Jason’s help with sex ed. Frankly, he’d rather fail than talk about sex with his step-dad.
Especially after all the physical activity the pair had just had. A few hot, sweaty hours in the sun with his equally hot and sweaty step-dad had managed to crank Cam’s hormones back up to full power.
Perched on the barstool, he crossed his legs to cut off the blood flow he sensed near his manhood. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. Not twenty-four hours ago, he’d resolved once and for all to put away his feelings for his step-dad. It didn’t matter that Jason belonged in the pages of Playgirl. The fact of the matter was, he was still Cam’s step-dad. And taking a pounding from your step-dad, even if he did happen to have a massive donkey dick, was just one of those things a guy ought not to do.
Cut to a few hours later, though, and oh, how his tune had changed. Fuck, the way Jason had been in control out in the yard. It left Cam drooling. His step-dad had been a champ out there. It made him wonder if he could be a champ in here too.
A champ in him, too.
He blew out a sigh, as if the release might cool him down. Frankly, Jason’s objective hotness wasn’t even the half of it. What bothered him perhaps even more was that he’d almost, dare he say, enjoyed their time together in the backyard. The fact couldn’t possibly have come as a bigger surprise to him. He belonged in the library, not on the football field.
Well, technically, he belonged to Jason. At least, as of this afternoon he did.
Can I call you my boy? The sound of Jason speaking those beautiful words still echoed in his mind.
Never before had Cam felt like he belonged to anyone. Frankly, he’d never felt like he belonged at all. Now, though, he knew exactly where he belonged. So long as he had Jason, he’d never have to feel alone again. He knew exactly whose boy he was.
And he intended to be a good one. He’d make Jason proud to call him his boy. And if this afternoon in the backyard was any indication, then perhaps this special guys’ week might just turn out being more fun than he’d thought.
Somehow, being with Jason made Cam excited about trying new things. Perhaps he and his step-dad were more alike than he realized.
Alike on the inside, that is. Geez, his step-dad had a body like a god. He was practically a tank next to Cam’s slight, lean frame. Then again, he supposed a few decades in the gym would do that to a guy. And Cam was more than happy to appreciate all of Jason’s hard work.
What’s more, all that training must have come with plenty of fringe benefits, he imagined. He’d bet anything Jason plowed like a champ. Given the kind of experience his step-dad must have amassed over the years, Cam could only imagine the guy was a pro.
Probably just the kind of pro he needed to ace this sex ed final.
He shook himself out of it. Jesus, Cam. Get it together, he reprimanded himself. Asking your step-dad for help studying sex ed is completely out of the question. If he thought this guys’ week was awkward now, just wait until he’d talked STIs and God knew what else with Jason.
He had to come up with another subject to study.
The sound of Jason’s voice then pulled him out of his thoughts. “Say, what’s this book?”
Cam said a silent prayer that his step-dad had not just found what it sounded like he’d found.
Unfortunately, it was a prayer that went unanswered.
“That?” His voice was about an octave higher than usual. “That’s nothing.” He scrambled in panic for another textbook. “Here, let’s study this one.”
Confusion quirked Jason’s face. “English Lit? You’re great at that Mark Twain stuff. You don’t want my help with that.” He added under his breath, “Trust me.”
Cam shrugged with defeat, a growing unease rising up in him as he eyed his step-dad thumbing through the pages of Guy Talk: Getting Real About Sex and What Every Dude Needs to Know About It. “Now, this,” Jason said with a smirk, “is a topic I know a thing or two about.” He set the book down on the counter. “But I don’t suppose you need any help in that department.” His eyes flicked over to Cam. “Do you, my boy?”
Cam’s heart did a cartwheel at the sound of his step-dad’s new name for him. The words came out like music on his lips. My boy.
Why did Jason have to stumble onto that book? Studying for his finals promised to be hard enough already with his dreamboat of a step-dad sitting next to him. But studying sex with his step-dad beside him…it was begging for disaster.
Still, it was indeed the subject that had Cam worried the most. And clearly, it was a subject for which Jason was unequivocally equipped.
He felt himself harden at the memory of his step-dad’s equipment. All he’d wanted when his mom had remarried was for her new husband to stay out of Cam’s life so he could likewise stay out of his new step-dad’s. And hopefully, through mutual indifference, the two could manage to coexist peacefully.
What he’d gotten, though, couldn’t have been further from that. Clearly, Jason was a step-dad who wanted to be involved. Maybe that was what Cam needed, after the deadbeat his real father had turned out to be.
Still, a step-dad that Cam was truly starting to connect with, truly starting to bond with—that was more than he’d bargained for.
He chewed at his lip anxiously. If he agreed to letting Jason help him study sex ed, it would alter their dynamic forever. It would mean letting Jason get closer than Cam had ever let anyone get.
And most important of all, it would mean fighting his lust for his stallion of a step-dad would become harder than ever.
His eyes stole a glance at James’ beefy frame beside him. His pecs filling out his shirt. His biceps ready to rip his sleeves at the seams. His bulge stretching the tight crotch of his pants to the limit.
Don’t say yes. Don’t say yes. Don’t say yes.
Even as he spoke, Cam couldn’t believe the sound of his own words. “Well, now that you mention it…”
TO BE CONTINUED
Taking the Step, Part 3
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
The words had barely left Cam’s lips when, already, he found himself regretting them. Have you gone mad, Cam? Studying for your senior year sex ed final with…your step-dad?
Granted, he needed the help. Math, science, literature—they all came naturally to bookish Cam Townsend. Sex, however, was another matter entirely.
Still, he asked himself, if he was really that worried about passing sex ed, why not just see a tutor?
He knew the answer, of course. The idea of talking sex with a tutor sounded mortifying. The idea of talking sex with his step-father Jason, though…
That sounded enthralling.
And come on, how much help could one of his peer tutors at school really be when it came to carnal relations? If you asked Cam, this was a job for someone much more…experienced.
Someone like his step-father.
But was this going overboard? Already, he’d gotten more than he’d bargained for out of this special guys’ week his step-dad had planned during his mom’s business trip.
At first, the idea of being stuck home alone with his step-dad had sounded like a week of torture. Jason—outgoing, athletic, and macho Jason—was quite literally the antithesis to Cam’s bashful, awkward demeanor. All he’d wanted with his step-dad was peaceful coexistence.
After all, he’d managed to get this far without a father, hadn’t me? Even before Cam’s biological dad had left, he’d never seemed to take any interest in his son. And if Cam hadn’t needed a father then, he certainly didn’t need one now.
Jason, however, took a different view of the matter. So, yes, while it was the whole point of this week to enjoy some quality male bonding together, something about the last couple days seemed to be bringing the two virtual strangers especially close.
Maybe too close.
Cam couldn’t imagine many eighteen-year-old guys could say that they had spied on their step-dads jerking off in the shower. It was probably fewer still who’d gotten so turned on by it that they’d proceeded to spend their own first experience masturbating fantasizing about what they’d just seen.
Then again, it wasn’t every guy who had a step-dad like Jason.
He’d seen his friends’ dads—and none of them made his pulse tick up the way Jason did.
What was this fascination he had with his step-dad? He’d never felt this way about an older man—or really any man, frankly—before. It wasn’t just physical, either. Sure, Jason was built like a brick house—nothing but muscles on muscles on muscles–but something told Cam there was more to it than that.
Jason’s physique didn’t explain why he made Cam feel safe. It didn’t explain why he made Cam feel wanted. And it certainly didn’t explain why he made Cam feel like he’d do anything to make his step-father proud.
He didn’t understand it, but something between them was happening. Something that a study session on sex was only likely to strengthen.
The crack of Jason’s knuckles snapped Cam out of his daze. “OK, sport. What should we cover first?”
Cam felt his insides twist into a knot. What he wouldn’t have given to take back his words when he’d agreed to this session.
There was no use making empty wishes now, though. At this point, the only way out of this mess was through.
Stay cool, Cam. Stay cool, he reminded himself as he spread open his textbook on the kitchen counter. It’ll only be awkward if you let it. All you’ve got to do is keep your jitters in check.
And yet, deep down, Cam knew it wasn’t his anxiety over the subject matter that would be hardest for him to control. That distinction would go to his growing desire for the man who was teaching it to him.
He swallowed down hard and braced himself. Here goes nothing.
Nervously, he ran his finger down the table of contents until he reached a chapter he had yet to study. The subject on which he landed turned his stomach to lead.
Peering over his step-son’s shoulder, Jason read the title above his finger. “Nocturnal emission, eh?” His mouth quirked up in a smile.
Cam buried his face in his palm. “God, this is awkward already.”
Sensing his step-son’s embarrassment, Jason gave himself a reset. “I’m sorry, sport. I promise I’ll be serious.” Taking the book, he thumbed to the start of the chapter and began to read aloud. “Nocturnal emission is the male body’s natural way of expelling excess semen.” An incredulous snort escaped him. “Personally, I can think of another way of doing that that comes much more naturally.”
“Jason!” Cam gave his step-dad a good-natured shove.
“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, sport.” He chuckled at his step-son’s innocence. “Jacking off is one of the best parts of being a guy.”
Cam did a double-take then. Did he just hear what he thought he’d heard? He felt his palms turn sweaty. Talking masturbation with the man who sent his heart racing had not been on his bingo card today.
“I guess if you say so,” he responded, noncommittal. “I wouldn’t know.”
Of course, it was a bald-faced lie. His inaugural jerk-off session the previous night had been nothing short of mind-blowing—due in large part to the inspiration unwittingly afforded him by the man currently seated beside him.
But hell if he was going to tell that to Jason. Just talking garden variety sex ed with his step-dad made his heart start to pound. Discussing the joys of masturbation with him would be sure to send Cam’s blood pumping to an entirely different body part.
He couldn’t help but notice that Jason seemed to shrink then, almost as if saddened by the realization that his boy didn’t want his help discovering the wonders of manhood. “That’s OK, sport. You’ll learn.” He mussed up Cam’s hair affectionately before returning to his textbook. “So, nocturnal emission…”
The voice of his step-dad reading the lesson aloud faded into the distance as Cam lapsed into thought. More than anything, he wanted to learn more about the euphoric self-pleasure he’d discovered last night. And here was his step-dad, practically begging to impart on him his knowledge. Was he really going to turn this opportunity down, simply because he found it a little embarrassing?
“So, there’s really nothing wrong with it?” Hearing the question come out of his mouth, Cam couldn’t believe he’d actually found the courage to ask it.
A beat of silence followed as Jason paused reciting from Cam’s book. An inscrutable look was written on his face. “What’s this about, sport?”
Cam averted his eyes at the question, his brief burst of confidence now vaporized.
Jason wrapped his arm around his step-son’s shoulders, sensing his vulnerability. “Come on, sport. There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m your step-dad. You can tell me anything.”
Cam nodded in understanding as he worked to muster his courage. “In that case, I have a confession.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “What is it, my boy?”
Cam swallowed a gulp in an attempt to coat the desert his throat had suddenly become. “When I said I wouldn’t know what it feels like to masturbate…”
“Yes?”
“I wasn’t exactly being entirely honest.”
Jason waited for Cam to elaborate.
“I may have given it my first try…last night.”
A glow lit up Jason’s face then as he patted Cam jovially on the back. “That’s my boy! I knew you had it in you, sport.”
Suddenly, Cam felt at ease, the burden of his secret lifted. It wasn’t even as embarrassing as he thought it’d be. In fact, it felt quite the opposite. Jason almost seemed to take pride in the fact that Cam had experienced this rite of passage.
“So, what’d you think?” A grin lit up Jason’s face like he’d just won a medal.
“You know,” Cam began, searching for the right words, “it was definitely…something.”
“Something?” Jason echoed, incredulous. “You just discovered one of the greatest experiences a man can have, and all you’ve got to say is it was ‘something?’”
Truth be told, Cam agreed last night had been a lot more than just ‘something,’ but this was uncharted territory. It wasn’t exactly like he’d rehearsed how a discussion on masturbation with his step-father might go.
Plus, who would have thought his step-dad would be such a jack-off fanatic? It was like the guy was infatuated with his penis.
Then again, knowing the equipment his step-father was working with, Cam could see why it was such a point of pride for him.
“Well,” Jason continued, “don’t be discouraged. It takes some practice to get good at masturbating. Give it time, and I’m sure you’ll find your…rhythm.”
Cam felt his cheeks redden at the wink his step-father gave him. “Does it take a lot of practice?”
Now it was Jason’s turn to blush. “Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”
“How much practice did it take you?” Cam wasn’t sure what had come over him, but all of a sudden, he felt himself bravening.
The hue on Jason’s face deepend, as if in realization that he might just have cracked open a can of worms he wasn’t entirely ready for. “Oh, let’s just say your step-father is…well-rehearsed.” He cleared his throat nervously. “So, uh, nocturnal emissions…”
“How much practice does it take to be able to do it really fast?”
This got Jason to quit dodging Cam’s questions. “That’s not what you think this is, is it? Some kind of race?” He shook his head to himself. “You young guys, always so competitive. That’s not what masturbation’s about, Cam. It’s supposed to be relaxing. It’s about taking it slow, making it last. Your body—especially at your age—is a gift, Cam. You’ve got to learn to enjoy it.”
The praise for his body sent a thrill through Cam’s system. So it was true. His step-dad did think he was attractive. “OK, then. So how do I make sure I enjoy it?”
A flustered look came over Jason’s face. “Well, it’s a little hard to explain…”
“Come on, Jason.” Cam scooted his barstool closer to his step-father. “Give me some tips.”
Jason flashed a roguish grin at his step-son then, almost as if to say, You cheeky little bastard… “Well, first things first,” he began, “you’ve got to find yourself a time when you won’t be interrupted. I suppose that’s not always easy with your mom around, but since it’s just us guys this week, you conveniently have some extra time on your, well, hands.” He tossed Cam a wink at the pun, earning himself an eye roll. “Next, you’re going to want some…viewing material.”
Cam averted his eyes, embarrassed.
It was met with a lighthearted chuckle. “Look, I know you’ve probably always been worried about getting caught watching that stuff with your mother around, Cam, but you’re eighteen now. There’s nothing wrong with giving yourself a little…inspiration.” He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.
Cam felt like he might die of embarrassment. Had he known this conversation would lead to his step-dad actually encouraging him to watch porn…
“Last but not least,” Jason concluded, “you’ve got to use a good lube. Compared to stroking dry, a good lube can’t be…beat.” He shot another wink at Cam. “Sorry, I promise, no more puns.”
Cam let himself crack a smile this time. Sure, Jason was dorky, but it was, if Cam was being honest, endearing. Perhaps there was more to his step-father than just a slick jock, after all. He bit his lip nervously. “What if I don’t have any lube?”
Jason responded with a smirk. “That can be fixed.” Suddenly, his gaze flicked downward, as if something had just caught his attention.
Cam followed his step-dad’s sight line and let out a horrified gasp.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sport,” Jason reassured with a chuckle. “It only means you’re healthy.”
The sight of his rock-hard cock tenting his pants in front of his step-dad made Cam wish he could crawl under a rock.
“Besides,” Jason continued with a good-natured shrug, “we are talking sex, after all. I’m glad to see that my boy is so potent. He gave his step-son an atta-boy pat on the back.
The knowledge that his erection had brought his step-dad pride filled Cam up with a glow. Slowly, he found his posture shifting, his knee-jerk reaction to conceal himself melting away to a greater temptation to now share himself.
The mountain in his pants bounced visibly as, underneath, his cock twitched with lust. He glanced over at Jason to make sure he’d seen.
Judging by the nervous way his step-dad cleared his throat just then, there was little doubt he’d taken note of the display.
“I’d say that’s enough studying for now.” Jason shut the textbook firmly. Pushing back his barstool, he raised himself to his feet. “I need to go, uh…take care of something.”
Cam felt himself deflate then. Shit, maybe he’d pushed too far. All this talk about masturbation—clearly, it had made him get a little carried away. Just because Jason was oozing horniness, it didn’t mean he would actually let himself act on it. He was, after all, still Cam’s step-father.
Geez, he thought to himself, had he not seen this coming. At the start of this guys’ week, Cam couldn’t stay far enough away from his step-dad. Now, all he wanted was for Jason to let him get close.
Close in a way that neither of them had ever imagined.
He was pulled from his thoughts then by the sight of his step-father pausing on his way out the doorway. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy, though.” He tossed Cam another impish wink. “One more pun for the road.” Quickly, he became businesslike again. “My study sessions come with homework.”
Cam arched an eyebrow. “Homework?”
“Your assignment is to practice those tips I gave you. Think you can do that, sport?”
Cam cracked a smile. Jason certainly didn’t have to ask that question twice.
* * *
Compared to his afternoon study session, the remainder of Cam’s day passed without note. How could he, after all, focus on anything productive when he couldn’t take his mind off the threshold he’d just crossed with his step-father?
He’d surprised himself, frankly, at how he’d opened up to Jason. At first, he would have done anything to put the conversation on ice, but as the discussion progressed, it hadn’t taken long at all for him to, well, warm up.
Unfortunately, the heat had proven just a little too hot for Jason. Cam hoped he hadn’t turned his step-dad off for good. They were just getting started. And besides, wasn’t a little intimacy with his step-son just what Jason had been craving all along?
God, he hoped he hadn’t misread anything. It had just seemed so certain that, after the way Cam had resisted initially, a bit of, well, initiative on his part would have been just what Jason wanted.
Or at least, so he’d thought. Now that he was finally opening up, Cam worried he was just in time for Jason to get cold feet.
Of course, then again, if he had scared his step-dad off, would he really have given him the homework he’d prescribed? Or perhaps he’d just meant that figuratively.
Such were the thoughts that plagued Cam’s mind as he ascended the stairs to his bedroom.
As he opened his door, though, Cam discovered his step-dad’s assignment had in fact been literal indeed.
“MaxxxGlide?” He stroked his chin curiously as he examined the clear bottle on his nightstand. It nearly jumped out of his hands as he picked it up for closer inspection, its exterior coated in slick, leftover lube.
It was then that Cam realized this tube had been used. Used by his step-father.
A thrill coursed its way through Cam’s system then. Your step-dad’s personal lube. Jason was bestowing on his step-son a gift from his own private collection.
He flipped the cap open to give its contents a sniff. “Well, if it’s good enough for Jason, it’s good enough for me.” He set the tube back down.
And suddenly realized it wasn’t the only supplies his step-father had left him. Next to where he’d found the tube rested a stack of DVDs.
And not just any DVDs.
“Porn?”
He felt his palms moisten with sweat as he picked up the stack of forbidden wonders. Geez, at this rate, he might not even need the lube.
He began to cycle through the stack, eyes growing wide at the lurid titles—also sourced from Jason’s private stash, no doubt. But despite their well-appointed cover models, neither Ladies Who Lust nor Wet and Wanton Women Volume 4 managed to spark his intrigue.
“Evidently, we have different preferences when it comes to…viewing material.”
But as he flipped to the last DVD in the stack, Cam realized that perhaps he’d spoken too soon.
“Guys Do It Better: Uncut?”
This was more like it.
It wasn’t until a moment later, though, that the implication of the discovery sunk in. This discovery was proof positive that his step-dad watched…gay porn?!
He had not seen that one coming.
What was Jason doing watching gay porn? He was married to Cam’s mom, for Christ’s sake.
Did she know about this? Or was this Jason’s secret?
A secret he’d decided to share with his step-son.
Maybe his fears about Jason trying to close himself off were premature. If this was any indication, his step-dad seemed hungry to share more of himself.
And Cam, for one, certainly wasn’t about to deny Jason that. For as weird as it might be jerking off to his step-father’s porn, Cam had to admit that, now that this Pandora’s Box had been opened, he was dying to know his step-father’s tastes in men.
“Welp, this movie isn’t gonna watch itself.” Opening the case, Cam popped out the disc.
Which led him to discover yet another surprise.
Hidden beneath Guys Do It Better was a second, seemingly homemade disc. There was no movie title, no printed design—just a handwritten, black Sharpie label: PRIVATE.
Cam handled the extra disc curiously. “Now, what could you be?”
There was, of course, just one way to find out. He turned on the TV sitting atop his dresser.
And paused.
I don’t know, Cam, he thought to himself. This feels like something you shouldn’t be doing. Clearly, whatever’s on here is private. Jason probably completely forgot it was even in here when he loaned it to you.
But then again, on the other hand, maybe Jason wanted him to find it.
Don’t be a chicken, Cam. Your step-dad loaned you his porn. What could be on here that could possibly be more private than that?
He certainly didn’t have to wait long to find out. Inserting the disc into the player, his jaw hit the floor as an image lit up the screen before him.
“Jason?!”
This DVD wasn’t normal porn. It was a homemade sex tape by…his step-father.
Cam couldn’t move fast enough as he scrambled for the PAUSE button. Holy fuck, had that been a close one.
Not ten seconds later, though, Cam found his gaze lured back to the screen.
There before him, clad in nothing but a pair of tight white briefs, was the still image of his step-father Jason frozen in lurid repose.
“Fuck, he looks hot.”
All over, Cam felt his body become electric at the sight of his step-dad ready to perform. His hulking, chiseled step-step-dad, bedroom eyes aimed right at the camera.
Right, in fact, at Cam.
“Don’t do it, man.”
And yet, what if he did?
“It’s too far, Cam.”
Come on, who’s to know?
“You’re going to regret it.”
Just a little taste can’t hurt.
And just like that, Cam found himself surrendering. Was this a good idea? Probably not. But frankly, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.
Besides, hadn’t Jason said Cam needed to try some viewing material? Was it really his fault if this was his content of choice?
And what’s more, it was fitting. His first jerk-off session had, after all, been inspired by the peepshow he’d gotten of Jason in the shower. How appropriate for his second session to be fueled by yet another performance courtesy of his step-dad.
Case closed—it was decided. Flopping himself on his bed, Cam pressed PLAY on the remote. It was time to slap his meat to his step-dad’s sex tape.
* * *
The coldness of the lube tingled as Cam pumped it into his palm.
Then again, maybe it was simply the anticipation of watching his step-dad masturbate again that was giving him such tingles.
One way or the other, though, Cam knew he was about to enjoy this.
Using his free hand, he dropped his pants to his feet. His eyes lowered to the bulge in his underwear.
“Hard again already. Nice.”
He raised his eyes back up to the TV. His step-dad was about to begin his performance.
It would be a solo show, by the look of it. Just his step-dad worshiping his own muscle-bound body. And Cam couldn’t wait to enjoy every last minute of it.
He lowered the waistband of his briefs. Hard as a rock, his cock sprung out from its confinement. His rod faced him head-on, straight up and at attention as Cam admired the view of himself.
“Ready to do this?”
His cock gave a twitch, almost as if nodding in response.
It instantly sparked a grin on Cam’s face. “Fuck, yeah.”
Gently, he slicked his erection with his step-father’s lube.
“Holy fuck.”
Jason hadn’t been kidding about the advantages of lubrication. The silkiness had almost been enough to make him cum instantly.
“Take it easy, Cam,” he reminded himself with a deep breath. His step-dad’s instructions had been to take it slow, enjoy the ride.
Not that Cam was typically one for following orders, but when it came to his step-father, he was willing to make an exception.
Lying on his back, he stroked his meat slowly, his gaze taking turns between the monolith of his cock and the TV in the background behind it.
Up on the screen, his step-dad had begun to inch down his underwear, revealing bit by bit his furry, manly bush.
Cam started stroking faster.
“Fuck, Cam. Stop it. You’re going to make yourself cum.”
Fighting his urges, he removed his hand from his cock. Geez, when they named this stuff MaxxxGlide, they sure hadn’t been kidding.
He decided a brief time-out was in order. Settling in, he focused on the video of his step-dad strip-teasing before him.
The bulge of Jason’s cock weighed heavy inside his briefs as he stretched his waistband around with his thumbs.
“Fuck, this has got to be ten times better than whatever was on that other DVD.”
Cam fought to urge to touch himself.
“Like, fuck, Jason definitely could have been a porn star if he wanted.”
He licked his lips as, onscreen, his step-dad flexed his hairy pecs.
“Jesus Christ.”
“You like that?” his step-father asked onscreen.
“Yes, I do, daddy.”
Cam’s hand wandered back down to his cock. Lust had officially won this battle of willpower. He began to stroke the length of his shaft as his step-dad performed before him.
“Good,” Jason’s voice responded coolly. “How about this? Do you like this?”
He lifted his arms to flex. Two biceps the size of grapefruits appeared.
Then, winking, he lifted his arms higher over his head, revealing a luscious pair of hairy, masculine pits.
“Fuck, daddy.”
Cam began to stroke faster. Damn, this lube made it nearly impossible to slow down.
“Well,” Jason continued as he lowered his hands back down. “If you like that, then I think I’ve got something else you might like to see.” He looked right at the camera. “Do you want to see it?”
“Yes, please,” Cam answered, his heart accelerating to match the beat of his strokes. Ever since first laying eyes on his step-dad’s massive cock in the shower, it had been all Cam wanted to see it once again.
“Are you sure?” A roguish grin flickered as Jason asked the irresistible question.
“Yes, daddy. Please.”
Tingles electrified Cam’s body as his slippery grasp pumped the entire length of his shaft. His body squirmed in ecstasy as his palm glided effortlessly from the tip of his sensitive cockhead down to the base of his tree trunk hilt.
“All right, then,” Jason said. “I suppose that you deserve it.”
“Yes, daddy, I do.”
It felt like he had a bass drum beating deep inside his chest. His step-dad’s cock one more. Finally, it was about to happen.
“Let’s count down together now. In three…”
Up and down, Cam stroked.
“Two…”
Up and down, up and down, up and down.
“One…”
Updownupdownupdownupdownupdown.
“There you go, babe.”
Just as Jason spoke, he lowered the band of his underwear below his waist. And out sprang that thick, hard, gargantuan cock of Cam’s fantasies.
“Fuuuuuck!”
A thick wad of jizz launched from Cam’s dick like a torpedo. His whole body collapsed, utterly spent. After how long he’d yearned to see that sight again, he hadn’t stood a chance when the opportunity finally, well, came.
The ecstasy, however, was short-lived. No sooner had he finished his cry of release when, ever so faintly, he thought he heard a shuffle at his door.
He felt his stomach tie itself in a knot. Leaping up from the bed, he catapulted himself across the room, doing his best to shield his still raging hard-on with his hands.
His bedroom door was cracked.
The realization sent his heart on a high-jump into his throat. Fuck. Had he left it open? Or had someone been…watching him?
And if someone had, there was only one person it possibly could have been.
He poked his head through the doorframe and peered out, dead silent, into the upstairs hall.
There didn’t appear to be anyone else about. Perhaps it had just been his imagination.
Or maybe even a guilty conscience?
He shook his head clear. Wowzer, he’d just actually done that. He’d just creamed his biggest load yet to a dirty, illicit, sex tape filmed by none other than his step-dad.
And you know what, he decided, it was fucking hot as hell.
Returning to his bed, he powered off the TV and entered a deep, satisfied sleep.
* * *
“Morning, sport,” Jason greeted, chipper as usual, as Cam descended into the kitchen the next morning. “Care for some joe?” He raised the coffee pot cheerfully. “I’ve got some cream saved for you.” He tossed Cam a wink that turned his cheeks red.
“Uh, I think I’m OK this morning, Jason.” He averted his gaze, as if in fear his step-dad would be able to see in his eyes the guilt he still felt from the past night.
The response cast a frown on Jason’s face. He returned the pot to the coffeemaker. “You know, you don’t have to call me that. I’d be just fine if you’d like to call me Dad.”
Cam felt a lump rise up in his throat. It was a good thing he had turned down the coffee, he decided—because if he hadn’t, he knew it would have sprayed out his mouth then like a jamocha pressure washer.
And evidently, the expression on his face agreed.
“It’s OK, sport,” his step-dad amended, dimming. “I understand if you’re not ready for that.”
Aww, crud, Cam thought to himself. Now he’d hurt his step-dad’s feelings. It wasn’t that he felt the need to challenge Jason the way he had at the start of this special guys’ week. But given how things had progressed over the past couple days, calling him Dad just felt too weird.
Especially after the discovery he’d made last night.
Maybe he shouldn’t have watched that video, after all. Every time he looked at Jason now, it was all he could think about.
Not that it was a bad memory to have living in his head rent-free. But still, this was his step-dad he was fantasizing about.
He felt himself becoming firm between his legs at the vision. Not now, he begged his cock.
The next thing he knew, there was a piping hot plate of eggs, toast, and sausage before him. “Here you go, sport. Eat up.”
He seated himself at the kitchen counter, relieved. A bit of breakfast would be just the thing to take his mind off his boner.
“So…how’d it go last night?”
Or not.
“Oh, fine,” he replied, burying himself in a piece of toast.
His attempt to cut off the discussion, though, proved futile.
“Stroking your meat sure feels better with that lube, huh?” Jason tossed his step-son a wink as he sat down at the counter next to him.
“I guess you could call it an improvement.” Cam stuffed his mouth with a hearty bite of eggs.
“And the, uh, viewing material?” Jason wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Enjoy that, did you?”
More than you know, Cam thought to himself. He felt his cock twitch in his shorts. “Yes, sir.”
A grin quirked up at the corner of Jason’s mouth. “Atta boy.” He patted his step-son on the back. “Well, don’t you worry, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
The firm touch of his step-dad sent a tingle coursing into Cam’s body. I sure do hope so.
Before he could entertain the thought further, though, Jason suddenly became businesslike. “This guys’ week can’t be all fun and games, though. Today, I’ve got a job for you.”
Cam cocked his head, inquisitive. “A job?”
Jason nodded in confirmation. “There’s something I…need your help with.”
Cam felt his heart rate tick up. What could his step-dad possibly have in mind? The lurid possibilities played out in his mind.
The answer to his question, though, came like cold water.
“You and I are going to do some painting.”
“Painting?” Cam asked, nonplussed. “Like on the house?”
Jason nodded his head again. “Your mother’s been on me for weeks to finish painting that siding. I thought it would be nice for her to come home to a surprise.”
The way this week had been going, Cam thought to himself, a fresh coat of paint might not be the only surprise his mother could be coming home to.
The thought quickly evaporated, though, at the touch of Jason’s hand patting his leg. “What do you say, sport? Think you can lend your step-dad a hand?”
I’ll lend you whatever you want, Cam replied in his head.
* * *
A sinking feeling settled into Cam’s gut as, standing in the yard, he eyed the two stories of chipped and faded siding towering overhead. Jason wanted the two of them to paint all this?
Well, this certainly was one way to spend a healthy dose of quality time together.
Although, how he’d manage to focus on the task at hand alongside the man whose sex tape he’d just jacked off to, he had not a clue.
He swallowed a gulp as his step-dad dropped their painting supplies before them. His step-dad practically bulging out of his tight, skimpy athletic wear.
God, even in painting clothes, Jason was a hunk.
He sized up his own oversized gym shorts and t-shirt. All of a sudden, he felt conspicuously overdressed.
Though it turned out not to be an issue he had to worry about for long.
“Are you really planning to paint wearing that?” Jason eyed him in disbelief. “That looks like a nice shirt, Cam. You don’t want to get paint on it, do you?” He shook his head paternally. “I think you’d better take that off.”
Cam fell speechless as his brain entered panic mode.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, sport. Here, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take mine off, too.”
Cam stifled a thrilled gasp as before his very eyes, his step-dad stripped off his tank top.
Revealing his thick, muscled, hair-covered chest.
Now this was a sight for sore eyes.
“All right, sport. A deal’s a deal.” Jason propped his hands on his hips. “Off it comes.”
Cam swallowed the lump in his throat. His step-dad was right. Fair is fair, he thought to himself. He lifted his shirt up over his head.
A hungry glint sparkled in Jason’s eyes as he took in the sight of his step-son’s smooth torso. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
Cam just shrugged, self-conscious. “I guess this is better.”
Had Jason just licked his lips?
He must have been imagining it, he decided.
Further contemplation, though, would have to wait until later. It was time for the two of them to roll up their sleeves.
In a manner of speaking, of course, given their current state of undress.
* * *
It wasn’t long at all and Cam found himself grateful he’d shed his lousy t-shirt. Despite the early hour, the sun was already sweltering. Today was quickly shaping up to be H-O-T hot.
In more ways than one.
He fought the urge to stare at his burly, shirtless step-dad. If ever there’d been a man in his element, it was Jason doing home improvement. It was almost like the guy enjoyed manual labor.
Then again, given his step-dad’s proclivity for physical activity, it made a lot of sense why he’d be suited for this kind of work.
Cam, on the other hand, was a different story. Masculine skills weren’t exactly his strong suit.
Although, alongside his step-dad, he surprised himself at his willingness to learn.
It wasn’t half-bad now that they’d gotten started—working together as men. Maybe Cam had more spunk than he’d given himself credit for.
Perhaps the influence of his step-dad had been…good for him?
He ran through a mental assessment. So far this guys’ week he’d: (1) discovered masturbation, (2) talked about sex without dying of humiliation, and (3) learned that he might actually enjoy spending time with his step-dad?!
He almost hated to admit it, but this week of male bonding may just have been the best thing to ever happen to him.
A sense of pride filled him as he stole a glance at his step-dad working next to him. Sure, he didn’t have the bronzed, hairy, muscle-bound heft that flexed with every twist and turn of his body the way Jason did. Sure, he was just a slim, hairless, and generally pale twig in comparison. But none of that seemed to matter to his step-dad. Jason was proud of his step-son just the way he was.
He decided in that moment that maybe he’d been just a touch too cagey at breakfast—specifically when it had come to his exploration the past night. Jason had only been trying to help, after all—lend his experience as a mature man in his prime so that his unsure, budding step-son could grow into his newfound state of manhood. He ought to have considered himself lucky to have a father figure who took such interest in helping his step-son grow.
Perhaps it was time to actually discuss his session last night. Maybe Jason could even offer him some pointers.
“Hey, thanks again for that lube.”
The comment spurred a grin on Jason’s face. “My boy like that, did he?”
Cam smirked happily. Nothing on Earth was better than being Jason’s boy.
“Feels great on your cock, right? Nice and slick to make it last.”
A grimace appeared on Cam’s face then. “Well, it certainly felt great, but it didn’t exactly last.” He recalled his step-dad’s earlier instructions to draw out the experience for maximum pleasure.
“Oh?” Jason asked. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll learn how to control it. It just takes practice.” He furrowed his brow. “It’s really all in the wrist.” He flicked his paintbrush at his step-son playfully.
A splatter of bright yellow pigment landed on Cam’s chest.
“Hey!”
“What?” Jason replied, smirking. “Can’t you…take it?”
Cam grinned with devilish glee. “Oh, I can take it…Daddy.” He flicked his own splatter of paint onto his step-dad’s hairy, bare chest.
“All right, sport,” Jason replied, a fiendish gleam in his eyes. “You’re on.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Taking the Step, Part 4
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
I can take it, daddy? Where had that come from? Cam shook his head to himself. Never would he have guessed he had it in him to tease his brand-new step-dad like such a cheeky, little brat.
He wiggled his eyebrows fiendishly at bare-chested Jason across the lawn, his bronzed pecs freshly splattered with house paint, courtesy of his eighteen-year-old step-son.
But, hey, he’d started it. Cam glanced down at his own bare chest, newly branded with the paint that Jason had flicked upon him first.
It hadn’t been ten minutes since they’d started trying to paint the siding, and already Jason had found a distraction.
Not that Cam particularly minded. He flicked another brushful of paint at his hunky step-dad.
Jason arched an eyebrow playfully. “That’s it, sport. You’re on.” Full speed ahead, he charged at his step-son, tackling him to the ground.
Their bodies intertwined, the pair rolled around in the grass, slowly becoming a tangled mass of limbs.
An unbridled howl of laughter escaped Cam as he allowed himself to get lost in the moment, his thin, sleight frame at the mercy of his step-dad’s linebacker build.
“You think you can get away with that, do you, sport?” Jason taunted as he pinned his step-son down with his heft. He twisted Cam’s nipples mercilessly as he rolled their bodies around, subjecting his boy to his manly control.
And Cam, for one, reveled in it. Sure, he’d rough-housed with buds before, but never had it felt like this.
Like he was being used.
Like he was being punished.
Like he was being dominated.
His lithe body squirmed beneath his tank-like step-dad above.
“What’s the matter, sport?” Jason teased. “I thought you said you could take it.” He gave Cam a light slap on the cheek.
The smile that appeared then on his step-son’s face sparked Jason’s eyes with a gleam. Animal-like, he doubled down, wrestling with Cam like he was training his boy for a title fight.
“No fair,” Cam squealed as his step-dad pressed him down. “You’re bigger than me!”
Jason rolled Cam onto his stomach, pinning his arms behind his back. “I never said I was going to fight fair, sport.”
Cam, face pressed into the ground, spit out a mouthful of grass. “Come on, pick on someone your own size!”
Jason cocked his head as if to consider. “Nah, I think I’d rather just pick on you.” He flipped Cam back over like he was nothing but a rag doll.
Much better, Cam thought to himself as he eyed Jason’s burly, sweaty chest just inches away from his face. It took all his self-restraint not to bury his face then and there in his step-dad’s furry pecs.
“Come on, sport,” Jason taunted, snapping Cam out of his daze. “Is that all you’ve got? Surely you can put up a better fight than this.” He gave his step-son another good-natured slap.
A rush of adrenaline surged throughout Cam’s system. All right, then. If Jason didn’t think his boy had it in him to fight back, then Cam was just going to have to go and prove him wrong.
With a swift, fluid motion, he rotated himself on top of his step-dad to gain the upper hand.
“There he is,” Jason said, a fiendish glint in his eyes as he looked up at his step-son on top of him. “All right, sport. Show me what you got.”
He certainly didn’t need to ask that question twice. Mustering his strength, Cam worked to pin his step-dad down.
“Atta boy,” Jason coached, his lips curling into a grin. “I knew you had it in you.”
Cam felt himself swell with pride then. How Jason’s opinion had come to mean so much to him over the last few days, he hadn’t the foggiest. All he knew was that making his step-father proud of him was the best damn feeling in the world.
Hovering above Jason lying on his back, Cam wiped the sweat from his brow. “OK, I think I’m ready for a time-out.” Angling his torso upright, he lowered his hips onto his step-father’s lap.
Which was precisely the moment in which he made a, well, pressing discovery.
Namely, the pressing of his step-father’s hard cock up against his hindquarters.
Their faces turned ghost white instantly.
“Cam! I—uh—”
“Don’t sweat it, Jason,” Cam dismissed as absolutely fast as he could. “You did say yourself there’s, uh, nothing to be embarrassed about getting a random boner. It doesn’t mean anything.”
What he didn’t say was that he sure did wish it could have meant something in this case.
The pair stood to their feet awkwardly. What exactly was the protocol for when you’d accidentally just felt your step-dad’s hard cock pulsing through his shorts against your hole?
“Let’s, uh, not mention this to your mother.” The look on Jason’s face couldn’t possibly have been more mortified.
“Agreed,” replied Cam, who likewise couldn’t possibly have been more flustered.
“I’d say that’s enough painting for the day, huh? Let’s get cleaned up and forget this happened.”
While Cam certainly agreed that calling it quits was for the best, he knew it would be impossible for him to ever forget something quite like this.
* * *
Sitting in the kitchen with his books, Cam did his best to ignore the hiss of the shower upstairs. But despite his efforts to concentrate, he simply couldn’t bring himself to study. All his mind could focus on were visions of his step-dad rinsing off after their backyard romp.
And just up the stairs, too.
Stop it, Cam, he reprimanded himself. You cannot be fantasizing about your step-father. It’s…depraved.
But at the same it, it was oh-so-fucking hot.
Could it have been that Jason shared his forbidden desires? His throbbing cock when they’d been wrestling not twenty minutes ago certainly seemed to suggest so.
Of course, that still didn’t change the situation—whether the attraction was mutual, that is. The fact of the matter was, Jason still was Cam’s step-dad and Cam was still his eighteen-year-old step-son. The whole ordeal was entirely off-limits.
But, oh, how Cam wished things could be different. Maybe in another life, it could have been him with Jason instead of his mom.
Don’t be stupid, said a voice inside his head. Jason couldn’t actually be attracted to a shy nerd like you. Like you said earlier, it was just a random boner. Happens all the time when guys get physical. It doesn’t actually mean anything.
Right?
He blew out a frustrated sigh. Lusting after his step-dad had not been on his bingo card for this special guys’ week.
As a matter of fact, none of what had happened the last couple days had been what Cam had expected out of this. At first, the very idea of being holed up with his jockey, manly step-dad for a week of quality male bonding had made him turn stiff.
Now, though…well, it still made him stiff, but in an entirely different way.
Could it have been that Jason had planned this? What if his step-dad had in fact wanted this to happen all along?
It might not have been as far-fetched an idea as it seemed. Since the start of this week of so-called quality time, Jason had: (1) insisted on helping Cam learn the finer points of sex education, (2) orchestrated a movie night featuring the most homoerotic action star Cam had ever thought possible, (3) praised the wonders of male masturbation as if it were the single, ultimate pleasure that made life worth living, (4) moaned his name while jacking off in the shower, and (5) loaned him his own personal lube and a DVD with his own private sex tape hidden along with it.
It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to see a pattern here.
He shook himself out of it. Get real, Cam. For the love of God, your step-father is not trying to seduce you.
At least, he didn’t think he was.
The hiss of the shower running upstairs pricked up his ears again. The shower that was only a short trip up the stairs.
He’d already taken in the show of Jason showering once. What was to stop him from enjoying the view again?
Or better yet, maybe he could even join this time.
Fuck, would that be hot. Visions of their bodies—Jason’s hairy and brawny, his own smooth and lean—crammed in the shower together filled his mind’s eye.
He’d lather his step-dad up, spreading the warm and soapy suds generously across every muscle on his body. It would be just what Jason wanted, just what Jason needed—a nice, sensual rubdown from his boy.
And Cam, for one, would be more than happy to oblige.
From there, they’d trade places, Jason taking the lead to return the favor to his step-son. Cam could practically feel the strength of Jason’s firm, muscled hands washing the contours of his body.
The sudden squeak of the shower handle twisting off the water shook Cam from his fantasies. Well, so much for that.
It was probably for the best, though. The last thing he needed was to spy on his step-dad showering again. What he really ought to do was take a shower himself. Clearly, he was due for a bit of a cool-down.
He rose from his seat to climb his way up the stairs.
But as he arrived in the bathroom, he found himself greeted by a sight he hadn’t seen coming.
“Jason?!”
Standing before him, without so much as a towel wrapped around himself, was his step-father—every naked inch of him on display.
And that was a lot of inches.
“Cam!” he stammered, nonplussed. “What are you doing here?”
Cam shielded his eyes, mortified. “I thought you were done!”
Jason took a calming breath. “Don’t sweat it, sport. No reason to be embarrassed. We’re just two dudes, after all.”
Cam couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. Just two dudes? Jason was his step-dad, for Christ’s sake. Calling him just a dude was like calling Lake Superior a little fishing pond.
Especially given the fact that not even thirty minutes ago, Cam had accidentally sat down on his hard, raging boner.
“Come on, Cam,” Jason reasoned. “Uncover your eyes. If I’m not ashamed, you shouldn’t be, either.”
He did have a point, Cam decided. Slowly, he lowered his hand from his face.
“Now, isn’t that better?”
Much better, Cam wanted to reply.
Grabbing a towel off the rack, Jason began to dry himself off. “Say, thanks again for your help on the siding, sport.”
Cam did a double take then as he realized he’d entered a daze. “Huh? Oh, sure.” How on Earth was he supposed to hold a conversation with his Adonis of a step-dad nude and on display before him?
“I hope you’re having a good time this week,” Jason went on.
More than you know, replied a voice inside Cam’s head. He fought the urge not to lick his lips at the sight of Jason’s beefy, furry body dripping with leftover shower water.
“I’m really glad we’re bonding,” continued Jason, as if having this conversation while wearing not a stitch of clothing was the most natural thing in the world.
“Yeah, me, too,” Cam answered, doing his best to sound casual. What kind of Mercury-in-retrograde shit was going on with the universe right now?
Jason continued toweling himself off, dick swinging freely between his hips. “I hope you realize how much this means to me, the chance to spend some real quality time with my boy.”
Cam felt his heart flutter. God, how he loved it when Jason called him his boy. He tried to muster a response, but found himself distracted by the sight of his step-dad’s giant, hairy cock flopping only feet away from him.
“You know, I always wanted a boy of my own.”
Cam felt his knees go weak. There it was again. A boy of his own.
“And I realize you had a bit of a rough go with your real dad, but I hope you know with me, you can always open up.”
The comment sent a thrill coursing throughout Cam’s system. Something about opening up for Jason sounded awfully good.
“I’m here for you, Cam, whenever you want to let me in.”
He wrapped his towel around his waist. “All right, sport. Shower’s all yours. Good talk.” With that, he left the bathroom to Cam.
And if Cam hadn’t needed a cold shower before, he sure as hell needed to take one now.
* * *
Unfortunately, to Cam’s dismay, his shower did little to cool his flame. Even after rinsing off, he still found himself as worked up as ever.
Fuck, did he have a hot step-dad. His big, grizzly chest, his arms that belonged on a gorilla, not to mention his thighs the size of tree trunks…and every inch of it all covered in dark, curly hair—damn, it had taken all the self-restraint Cam had not to get on his knees and start sucking Jason’s Goliath-sized cock on the spot.
What really did it for him was the sheer masculine confidence his step-dad possessed. Not a hint of shame or modesty seemed to exist within him.
Of course, with a steel-cable physique like the one Jason sported, Cam certainly understood why his step-dad wouldn’t embarrass easily.
The trouble was, it was beginning to drive Cam wild. How was he supposed to control himself with the walking ball of testosterone that was his step-father around? Too much more of this torture, and Cam knew he’d be at his wits’ end.
What he needed was a change of focus. He still had plenty of studying to do if he was going to pass his senior year finals. It was time to hit the books.
He sat himself down at the kitchen counter. No sooner had he cracked open his textbook, though, than he realized this perhaps might not have been such a great idea, after all. The subject troubling him the most was, after all, sex ed.
Just then, he found himself pulled back to the present by a firm touch gripping his shoulder from behind.
“How’s studying, sport?”
The sound of Jason’s voice nearly made Cam jump out of his skin.
“Fine,” he lied.
Jason shook his head in spite of himself. “Oh, Cam. Always at the books.” He sat himself down next to his step-son. “What are we studying now?”
Nervous, Cam covered up the textbook before him. “Oh, don’t worry about me, Jason.”
“Nonsense!” his step-dad replied. “You were a big help to me outside today. Let me return the favor.”
Cam sensed a growing unease in his stomach. After the situation that had, well, arisen during their painting work, another study session with his step-dad felt like a recipe for disaster.
Apparently, though, Jason disagreed. Pushing Cam’s hands away, he took hold of the book on the counter.
A wry grin twisted his face as he beheld the open page. “Anatomy of the penis, eh?”
“We can probably skip this one.”
Jason released a scoff. “Are you kidding me? This is, like, the most important lesson.”
It didn’t surprise Cam, frankly, to hear that Jason felt this way. “I guess if you say so.” He swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat.
“It’s important you get an education, sport,” his step-dad assured. “Don’t worry, though, I promise this won’t be awkward.”
Somehow, Cam found that hard to believe.
There was no going back now, though. “All right, Jason. Tell me what I need to know about penises.”
A roguish grin lit up his step-dad’s face. “My pleasure.”
And thus the lesson began. Cam found his step-father to be a wealth of knowledge when it came to the male anatomy. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, he supposed, given Jason’s vast amount of experience.
Perhaps that was what Cam found so attractive about him. Being comfortable in his own skin was not exactly Cam’s strong suit. How could it be for such a quiet, dorky geek like himself?
But somehow with Jason around, Cam always ended up feeling comforted—even in the middle of a conversation about man meat.
It couldn’t have come as a bigger surprise, frankly. Back when he’d first learned about this guys’ week his step-dad had planned, Cam didn’t think he’d possibly be able to get far enough away. Now, however, all he wanted was to keep getting closer.
Being around Jason put him at ease in a way Cam hadn’t thought possible. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t even explain it, but somehow, Jason’s presence made everything seem OK.
Was this what it felt like to finally have a father?
The jury was out on that one, because the emotions he’d begun sensing in himself toward Jason sure didn’t seem like things a guy ought to feel toward his dad.
He’d figure out what to label it later. All he knew was he was a lucky lad indeed to have such a strong, experienced male mentor initiating him into the ways of manhood.
He returned his attention to the textbook before them. Spread across the page was a diagram of an erect penis, its various parts labeled with anatomical terms. He felt himself begin to harden. Shit, how was he supposed to focus when he was staring at a picture of a dick?
Especially when the dick that really held his interest was in the chair right beside him.
Compared to the view he’d gotten previously of his step-dad’s cock, the diagram in this book didn’t hold a candle. Even he himself had a couple inches on whoever had served as the model.
“Hey, Jason,” he said, his voice tentative, “can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything you want, sport.”
Cam swallowed a nervous gulp. “Is that size…normal?”
A beat of silence followed as Jason considered his words. “Penises come in all shapes and sizes, Cam. There’s no right or wrong.”
Cam nodded without speaking.
“Why do you ask?”
Cam shrugged awkwardly. “No reason.”
Jason stroked his chin, skeptical. “Is it because you’re worried about the size of your own penis?”
“Mmmaybe.”
“Cam, if you’re concerned that you might not measure up to some picture in a book, you don’t have to—”
“No, it isn’t that.”
Jason cocked his head, confused. “What’s got you worried, then?”
Cam bit his lip, still unsure if he had the courage to voice what was on his mind. “I guess I’m, well, bigger.”
The admission drew a laugh from his step-dad. “You crack me up, Cam. Since when has any guy been worried about being too big?”
Cam shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s just that it makes it impossible to hide when it gets…you know.”
Jason acknowledged him with a nod. “Yes, I know the struggle myself. Just how big are you, sport?”
The question made Cam’s stomach do a backflip. “I—I—I guess I don’t know.”
Jason scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t know? What kind of guy doesn’t know the size of what he’s got packing?”
Cam gave another shrug. “I guess I just never thought to measure.”
Jason narrowed his eyes, conspiratorial. “Well, in that case, I say it’s time to fix that.” Rising from his seat, he strode over to a drawer by the sink. “You’re eighteen now, Cam. There’s certain things you ought to know about yourself.” Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out a ruler. “Let’s, uh, keep this between us, though, OK? Your mother doesn’t need to know about guy stuff like this.”
All of a sudden, Cam felt his body go stiff. Was he actually staring at his step-dad—his hot, beefy step-dad—holding out a ruler at him so he could measure the size of his cock?
“I…I don’t know, Jason.”
Sidling up to Cam, Jason wrapped an arm over his shoulder. “I promise, Cam, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” He gave him a fatherly squeeze.
Cam felt himself glow at his step-dad’s touch. The way Jason embraced him—comforting, protective, confident—there was nothing else like it in the world.
“All right, if you say so.” He unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop to the floor.
His step-dad cocked his head at the briefs still hugging Cam’s hips. “Planning to measure yourself through those?”
Cam swallowed the flock of butterflies in his stomach. Why was he so nervous? He had, after all, been fantasizing about this—about finally revealing more of himself to his step-father. It was just hard to believe it was actually about to happen.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, sport,” Jason assured. “The choice is up to you.”
A beat of silence followed as Cam nodded his head, contemplating. What was he so worried about? Hadn’t Jason himself been buck naked before him just twenty minutes before upstairs? There was no reason to be ashamed around him. Sure, he was his step-dad, but at the end of the day, they were still just a couple of guys.
And what could a couple of guys have to hide from each other?
His response came out resolute. “No, I want to do this.” He dropped his briefs to the floor.”
Jason’s nod was approving. “Atta boy.” He looked Cam in the eyes. “How do you feel?”
Cam turned his attention inward. As a matter of fact, he felt pretty good. Now that he’d finally allowed himself to let his guard down, it turned out to not be that scary, after all.
“I feel…relieved?”
The choice of words earned him a head tilt. “How so?”
Cam shrugged, his body relaxing. “I guess I just never knew how much I’ve still got to learn. I’m glad I can say I’ve finally got a step-father here to teach me.”
The admission cast a smile on Jason’s face. “I promise I’ll teach you everything I know.”
Now it was Cam’s turn to don a smile. He certainly did like the sound of that. “How do you feel?”
The question produced a crease on Jason’s forehead as he reflected. “I feel…happy.”
“Happy?”
Jason nodded. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you’d want to open up to me, Cam. And frankly given your past, I certainly wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t want to get to know me. I’m glad, though, that you’ve decided to give me a chance. I’m not like that dirtbag you had before. I’m here to help you, give you the support you need. After all, you’re a man now, and a young man needed guidance. Believe me when I say it’s an honor to help you grow into your manhood, Cam.” He paused as if considering his words. “I guess what I mean to say is, thank you for letting me in.”
The speech stunned Cam into silence. Wow, did Jason really feel like that? He certainly seemed genuine. It just sounded so surreal coming out of his mouth. To think that he—Cam’s masculine, capable, and experienced step-dad—was just as eager to teach as Cam was eager to learn, it was like a dream come true.
“I’m glad I’ve decided to let you in, too.”
Jason cleared his throat, as if suddenly becoming self-conscious. “All right, what do you say we, uh, get down to business?”
The sight of his step-dad holding up the ruler pulled Cam back to the present. For a minute, he’d almost forgotten he was still standing pantsless in the middle of the kitchen.
He chuckled in spite of himself. “Oh, yeah. Right.” He reached out to take the ruler.
Smirking, Jason pulled it out of reach. “Hold up, sport. You can’t measure yourself like that.”
Cam followed Jason’s sightline down to his crotch. His penis was completely flaccid.
A disgruntled scoff escaped him. With how much his cock had been popping boners lately, did it really have to pick now of all times to, well, go soft?
Jason seemed to sense Cam’s dismay. “Don’t worry, sport. There’s an easy way to fix this. Plus, it’ll give you a chance to show me how you’ve been coming along with that, uh, homework I assigned you.” A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes.
Cam felt as if his insides had suddenly turned to lead. His step-dad wanted him to do what? In front of him?
“I don’t know, Jason. Are you sure that’s not just a little bit…weird?”
The question drew a laugh from his step-father. “Weird? Of course not, Cam. Pleasuring your dick is quite literally the most natural thing a man can do.”
He had a point there, Cam thought to himself. His eyes fell downward toward his penis hanging between his thighs. He did have to admit, given how new he still was at masturbation, it could be beneficial to get a second opinion on his technique. Frankly, he hadn’t the slightest idea if he was actually doing it right.
On second thought, strike that, he decided. He knew he wasn’t milking his cock the right way, at least not according to his step-dad. The way Jason described masturbation, it was an activity that was meant to be savored. But when Cam jacked off, it felt like it was practically over before it even began,
Perhaps his step-dad could change that. Sure, it might feel a little awkward performing in front of Jason, but like Cam had told himself before, they were, when it came down to it, just a couple of dudes.
A horny couple of dudes.
That settled it. A little bit of coaching would be just what Cam needed. And who better to give him some masturbation mentorship than a pro like his step-father?”
“All right, sir. I’m ready for inspection.”
Jason nodded, businesslike. “In that case, you may proceed.”
Swallowing a gulp, Cam gripped his hand around his shaft. Already, he could feel himself becoming firmer. He looked back up at his step-father. “Is this how I should hold it?”
“Handle your cock however you like, Cam. It’s about what feels good to you.”
Cam nodded to confirm his understanding. “Well, this certainly feels good to me.”
“Good,” Jason replied. The words came out soft but confident.
Slowly, Cam began to stroke himself. Fuck, this was crazy. Jacking off in front of his step-dad, all the while being evaluated by his watchful gaze? It was hard to believe this could be real.
The waves of pleasure rolling through his erection, though, assured him that this was in fact very real.
“Well, that certainly didn’t take long.”
Cam cocked his head, confused.
Wordless, Jason tossed a meaningful glance at his step-son’s groin.
He followed his step-dad’s eyes down to his cock. He was hard as a rock.
“What do you say we get to measuring that monster?”
A little light dimmed inside Cam then. Already? Granted, measuring his erection was, after all, the purpose of this endeavor. But did this have to end so soon? It felt like they were just getting started. He’d barely even had a chance to demonstrate his technique to his step-dad.
Reluctant, Cam accepted the ruler from Jason. Maybe this was for the best. Things were, after all, escalating quickly. In the heat of the moment, it was thrilling, but what if they were in fact getting a bit carried away?
Not that he felt there was anything wrong with what they were doing. Some quality male bonding was exactly what he needed to grow closer with his step-dad.
The only thing that concerned him was if they were in fact growing too close.
All this one-on-one time during this special guys’ week his step-father had planned had been, quite frankly, beyond Cam’s wildest dreams—and in more ways than one. Still, the fact remained, this couldn’t go on forever.
As much as Cam wished this could be his new life—just him and his step-dad, with no one else to bother them—he knew this fantasy could only be temporary. At the end of the week, his mom would be back, and things would have to return to normal.
And the more attached he and Jason got over the time they had left, the harder it would be to pretend that they hadn’t shared something special.
“Hey, Cam. You OK?”
Cam shook himself out of his daze. “Sorry, yeah.” He pulled himself together. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you as my step-dad.”
The remark sparked a grin on Jason’s face. “I’m the one who’s lucky—having a step-son like you.” He tossed Cam a wink. “All right, let’s see how big that thing is.” He nodded toward his step-son’s cock.
Swallowing a gulp, Cam returned a nod back to his step-dad. Time for the moment of truth. He positioned the ruler alongside his shaft.
“Is this how I’m supposed to do it?”
“Exactly, sport.”
Lining up the ruler next to his erection, Cam felt his heart about to pound out of his chest. The adrenaline coursed through his body with the force of a typhoon.
Never before had the thought entered his mind to measure the length of his erection, but somehow once Jason had suggested it, the idea had become impossible to resist.
He felt his cock twitch inside his hand, the excitement of the moment pulsing throughout his body.
“Well, sport, what’s the verdict?”
Breathing in deep, Cam lowered his gaze to the ruler.
“Umm…nine?”
A look of awe came over Jason’s face. “Nine…inches?”
Cam shrugged, modest. “Uhh…yeah?”
“Sport, that’s amazing.”
“Really?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Cam felt his confidence growing. Sure, he’d suspected he wasn’t exactly small, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated praise from his step-dad like this.”
“Is that…good?”
“That, Cam, is a cock to be proud of.”
Suddenly, Cam felt as if his whole body had started to glow. “I guess I never thought of it as anything special.”
“You’ve always been a special young man to me, Cam. But yes, for your information, walking around with a nine-inch dong swinging in-between your legs is special indeed.”
A beat of silence followed as Cam processed the revelation. Apparently, he had reason to walk a little taller on campus.
“Well, this certainly has been an educational study session,” Jason concluded.
Cam felt his spirits dim again. “Are we done already?”
A bewildered look etched Jason’s face. “What else did you have in mind, sport?”
Cam bit his lip as he mulled over what to say next. Yes, he had just decided to slow things down with his step-dad. But maybe he was being overly cautious. They were two men, after all. Two men with desires. Granted, that didn’t change the fact that this special bond they were building couldn’t go on forever. But it sure could go on for the time they had left.
What was the big deal if he jerked off in front of his step-dad? It would, after all, be about education. Masturbation was supposed to be a crucial part of a healthy man’s sexual wellness. And based on what Cam knew about his step-dad, he was a wealth of knowledge indeed when it came to the subject. It would be a shame to waste this opportunity to learn from him.
Plus, now that he was aware of what a special tool he was working with, he had to make sure it got the attention it deserved.
You know what, he decided, fuck it. If all he and his step-dad had were the next few days together, then Cam for one intended to make the most of it. The time would come when things would have to return to normal, but for now, Cam intended to live for today.
“I want to masturbate more for you, Jason.”
All the color drained from his step-father’s face. “Cam…what?”
“I just feel like I still have so much to learn.”
“That’s certainly a true statement, sport.”
“And I know you’re, like, the best teacher around.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“And I figure, what better way for me to get better at this than to do it in front of you and get your feedback?”
Furrowing his brow, Jason fell silent and considered. Watching, Cam held his breath. It was all he wanted in this moment for Jason to say yes, for his step-dad to allow him the opportunity to show more of himself to him.
“You’re a cheeky little brat, you know that?”
Cam’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Is that a yes, daddy?”
“You’ll have to do as I say.”
Cam didn’t even have to think twice. “Yes, sir.”
A devilish grin lit up Jason’s face. “Good boy.”
* * *
“Atta boy, sport. Looks like you’re a natural.”
The encouragement sent a thrill through Cam’s system as he worked his cock up and down. He began to pick up speed.
“Slow down there, tiger,” Jason interrupted. “Remember, this isn’t a race. If you really want to enjoy masturbation, you need to learn to take your time.”
Cam did as he was told. It certainly wasn’t easy, the way his cock was already begging for release, but he managed to be obedient. If there was anything Cam wanted more than the pleasure of ejaculation, it was the pleasure of bringing satisfaction to his step-father. He removed his hand from his penis, revealing a hard, raging, and proud boner.
“Good boy.” Jason drew in a deep breath as he eyed his step-son’s tool.
Cam likewise inhaled, mirroring the cadence of Jason’s slow, controlled breathing.
A silence fell over the room then as the two men locked eyes. What was that look on Jacon’s face, Cam wondered. It was only faint, but it was a look Cam thought he may have been beginning to recognize.
And then, it suddenly dawned on him. He knew what expression was written on his step-father’s face.
Lust.
The sound of Jason’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Are you ready to proceed, Cam?”
Cam nodded his head, obedient. “Yes, sir.”
“Begin to stroke yourself, Cam.”
Cam did as he was told. Wrapping his fingers around his cock’s base, he glided his hand up the length of his shaft. He took care to go slowly this time, savoring the sensation along each inch of his endowment.
“Is this better?”
Jason licked his lips hungrily. “Much better, sport.”
Cam let his head fall back as he stood on display for his step-father. Every last inch of his body was naked and exposed, and even though he knew he should have felt nervous and afraid, there in that moment, all Cam felt was safe and desired.
He raised his free arm up behind his head. “How am I doing, Jason?”
“You’re doing great, boy.”
Cam felt his heart surge at the encouragement. It turned out he’d been right, after all. It wasn’t that he couldn’t learn to fully enjoy masturbation, he simply needed someone to show him the way. Meanwhile, having an audience sure didn’t hurt, either.
Where had this come from? This thrill at being watched, at being viewed? Never would Cam have guessed he had urges like this inside him.
But as he was currently discovering, he apparently had a talent for putting on a show.
At least, the fire in his step-dad’s eyes as he savored the sight of Cam naked before him certainly seemed to suggest so.
It was in that moment Cam knew he had his step-father captivated. Every twist of his torso, every arch of his back, Jason drank with increasingly rapt attention.
“Ready to practice some more techniques?”
Cam raised an eyebrow, curious.
“Go back and forth on your head.”
Cam took the hand he currently had raised and began to muss up his hair. “You mean like this?”
Jason smiled at his step-son’s naivete. “Your other head.”
Realization dawned on Cam’s face then. “Oh, right.” Lowering his free hand, he adjusted his grip on his member to concentrate his focus on his cockhead.
Waves of pleasure radiated out from his tip. Waves that emanated down to his toes.
“Oh, fuck.”
Jason’s lips curled into a smirk. “Pretty good, am I right?”
“Definitely right.” The words came out in a gasp.
“Don’t get too used to it. Time to switch things up again.” He stroked his chin in thought.
TO BE CONTINUED
Taking the Step, Part 5
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
The whole kitchen fell silent as Cam stood speechless before his step-dad. His hard erection protruding, he couldn’t help but do a double take at the words that had just passed Jason’s lips.
Time to switch things up? What was that supposed to mean?
Perhaps he’d misheard him. It wasn’t exactly like he was in the clearest of mental states at the moment. The whole scene, frankly, still felt surreal.
Jacking off in front of his step-dad? Talk about a mind fuck. Especially considering Jason had more testosterone pumping through him than an eighties pornstar.
Could it have been that this was all getting slightly out of, well, hand? After all, this was supposed to have been about studying for his senior year sex ed final. But now that Cam was eighteen, his new step-dad had insisted there were additional things a young man ought to know.
Chiefly among them, the art and joy of masturbation.
Man, this special guys’ week was proving to be special indeed.
Not that he was complaining. An experienced older man like his step-father was a pro when it came to self-pleasure. Cam counted himself lucky to have such an expert stroker inducting him into this particular rite of manhood.
And what’s more, putting on a show for his step-dad—being inspected, evaluated on his technique—well, that wasn’t half-bad either.
Still, the question remained, what did Jason have in mind next?
The answer would have to come later, because just then, the ringing of a cellphone filled the air.
A guilty pallor washed over Jason’s face as he flicked a glance at his device sitting on the counter. “I’d better get this, sport.” He held the phone to his ear. “Hi, honey. How’s the trip?”
Cam felt as if a brick had just landed in his stomach. Fuck, his mother. His heart began pounding like a drum. Why in god’s name would Jason risk taking a call from Cam’s mother while her son was still beating his rock-hard meat not even a foot away?
“Oh, you know work trips,” Cam heard his mother’s voice across the line, “but it’s going well, all things considered. More importantly, though, how’s your special guys’ week? Cam finally dropping his guard?”
Jason eyed his step-son standing before him with his pants around his ankles. “Oh, he’s certainly dropping something.”
“What was that?” came Cam’s mother’s voice.
“Nothing, dear,” Jason quickly dismissed, clearing his throat.
Cam stole a glance at his raging hard-on. God, did his mother have terrible timing. Not only had she interrupted what was shaping up to be the hottest sexual encounter he’d ever known, but in doing so, she’d managed to turn it instead into the most mortifying encounter he’d ever known.
He felt his palms sweat at the sound of his mother’s voice across the line. Objectively, he knew she was still a thousand miles away, but hearing her speak then, it was almost as if she was right there in the kitchen.
Standing there in front of her husband, secretly pleasuring him with the sight of his rock-hard manhood, Cam knew he should have felt guilty. Not even in her wildest dreams would his oblivious mother have ever imagined the lurid scene currently playing out in her quiet suburban home.
Cam felt his humiliation dissipate, replaced instead with a growing rush of adrenaline. Locking eyes with his step-father, he licked his lips sensually as he began to stroke once more. A wicked smile curled on his lips at the sight of Jason’s face filling with embarrassment.
“What are you doing, Cam?” Jason whispered, his hand covering the mouthpiece.
Cam raised his free arm over his head. “Come onnn, Jason. It isn’t like she can see anything.”
The response earned him a glower as Jason returned his attention to his phone. “What was that, dear? Oh, yes. Absolutely. Hey, you know what, I bet you’d like to talk to Cam, wouldn’t you?”
All of a sudden, Cam felt his heart rate flatline.
“You would? I just knew it.”
Cam waved his hands across himself frantically.
“Busy? No, he isn’t busy. He was just, uh, taking a beat, as it were.”
Grinning, Jason handed his step-son the phone.
Cam leveled him with an I’ll-get-you-for-this glare. “Uh, hi, Mom.” He did his best to swallow a lump the size of a beach ball that had risen inside his throat. “We, uh, miss you.”
“That’s sweet of you, honey,” his mom’s voice came across the line. “But you don’t need to pretend for my sake. I’m sure your step-dad has been keeping you occupied.”
Cam glanced down at his rock-hard erection still pointing straight at Jason. “I guess you could say that.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re getting in some quality male bonding,” continued his mother. “It’s nice that you’ve had this special guys’ week to bring you two closer together.”
So help him, he was going to murder Jason for this. “Much closer, in fact.”
A satisfied chuckle followed over the line. “And to think you were nervous about spending the week alone with your step-dad. I bet you two are finding out you’re more alike than you realized.”
Cam stifled a snicker. “You can say that again, Mom.”
“Well, try not to have too much fun without me, sweetheart.” A muffled voice sounded then in the background. “Sorry, honey. Gotta go. But I’ll be on my way home tomorrow, OK? See you boys soon. Love you!”
“Love you too, Mom.” A heavy sigh escaped him as he handed the phone back to Jason. God, that could have been a disaster. “Why on earth would you put me on the phone with my mother when I currently have this”—he gestured to his massive hard-on still standing at attention—“sticking out between my legs?”
“Because,” Jason replied, a smug grin smeared on his face, “two can play at this game, sport. If I have to keep your mother off our case, then so do you.”
Cam rolled his eyes, grumbling. “Well, at least we can pick up where we left off now.” He tossed a meaningful glance toward his dick.
A crease formed then across his step-dad’s forehead. “I don’t know, sport. It’s getting late.” He peered out the window at the rising moon. “I think we’d better call it a night.”
At this, Cam felt his body dim. For real? But things were just getting good.
“See you in the morning, sport.” He mussed his step-son’s hair affectionately.
Watching his step-dad climb the stairs, Cam heaved a disappointed sigh. Damnit, Mom. It was all because of her that their bonding had gotten derailed. Had it not been for that phone call, who knew what wild turn their session could have taken.
There was no use griping about it now, though. Jason had made it clear—their fun for the day was done.
And with Cam’s mom scheduled to return the next day, perhaps it was done for good.
* * *
Sleep proved elusive for Cam that night. Lying in bed, he stared up listlessly at his ceiling. Earlier, he’d made an attempt to tire himself out by, well, finishing the job he’d started. Unfortunately, between his frustration at his mother’s interruption, his disappointment at his step-dad’s dismissal, and his anxieties about their guys’ week coming to an end, rising to the occasion, so to speak, had proven easier said than done.
Perhaps it was for the best that their exploration had been cut short. They were, after all, treading into majorly gray territory. Where was the line between harmless fun amongst a couple of dudes and something that was decidedly less innocent?
Wherever that line was, they were getting dangerously close to it.
And once they crossed over, there’d be no going back.
There was also, of course, his mother to consider. For the last few days, Cam had almost forgotten she existed. Her unexpected phone call, though, had provided all the reminder he needed that she was still very much in the picture.
God, could he really betray her like this? Jason was still her husband, after all. The last thing Cam wanted to do was come between them. If things had indeed progressed further, would that have been going too far? How would he ever be able to look his mother in the eye again, knowing the secret bond he’d forged with the man who shared her bed?
That settled it, Cam decided. As much fun as this had been, enough was enough. Besides, his mother was due home the next day. Even if he wanted to, how much could he and Jason really get into with so little time left together?
Thus resolved, he felt a wave of calm. Finally, Cam, he thought to himself, you’ve managed to come to your senses. Enough of this twisted fantasizing about your step-dad. The rest of this guys’ week would be strictly business.
Drifting off to sleep, he only hoped he could muster the self-control to make good on that resolution.
* * *
The next thing Cam knew, he found himself stirred awake by the aroma of fresh coffee. Just the smell of the bold brew was enough to spur him out of bed. How did his step-dad drink that sludge every day?
“Morning, sport,” Jason greeted as Cam descended the stairs, shielding his eyes from the onslaught of the rising sun streaming its way into the kitchen. “Coffee?” He sloshed the pot, exuberant.
“I think I’ll pass,” Cam replied, voice groggy. Like a zombie, he flopped his body onto one of the counter stools. Caffeine buzz or not, it was far too early for anyone to be this chipper.
Undeterred, Jason sat himself beside his step-son. “Look, sport. I’ve been thinking about yesterday…”
And just like that, Cam’s stomach clenched like a vice. God, did they have to revisit that embarrassment? Couldn’t they just pretend it hadn’t happened?
“Thinking about it a lot, actually…”
Apparently, they could not.
“Listen, Jason,” Cam cut off before his step-dad could proceed, “I think I may have sent the wrong signal.”
An inquisitive look quirked on Jason’s face. “Oh?”
“Maybe it’s best if we stick to ourselves ’til my mom gets back.”
At this, Jason seemed to dim. “Aww, c’mon, sport. You don’t really want to…I mean, just because we got a little carried away, it doesn’t mean we have to…I promise, sport. We’ll keep it on the up and up.”
Cam sized up his step-dad carefully. “I don’t know, Jason…”
“Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers dutifully.
Narrowing his eyes, Cam considered his step-dad before him. “Oh, all right. I suppose you want my help finishing some lame house project before my mom gets home?”
Disbelief registered on Jason’s face then. “Finish a house project? With the last few hours of our special guys’ week? Not a chance, sport.”
An uneasy feeling crept up in Cam’s core. “Then what, exactly, did you have in mind?”
The next thing Cam knew, he was recoiling from an enthusiastic slap on his back. “As if you have to ask, Cam.”
The look on Cam’s face, though, said that as a matter of fact, he did.
Jason responded with a sheepish shrug. “Well, gee, sport. I guess I thought you’d want some more help studying. I know how much passing this sex ed final means to you.”
And just like that, it all made sense.
“Uh-uh, Jason,” Cam replied adamantly. “This was exactly how we got carried away in the first place. No way are we opening that can of worms again.”
“Come on, Cam,” Jason tried again. “Studying for your test is a great way for us to spend some quality time together. You do want to pass this exam so you can graduate, yes?”
Cam rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Sure I do, Jason.”
“Then it’s settled.” The tone in Jason’s voice said the matter was not up for debate. “Don’t look so nervous, Cam. I promise this time things will be strictly business.” He squeezed his step-son tight as if to provide reassurance.
For Cam, however, the embrace did little to inspire confidence. Being wrapped inside his step-dad’s firm, muscular embrace served only to bring about the opposite effect.
Fear that this could spur a temptation he knew neither of them would be able to resist.
“All right, sport,” Jason said, rubbing his hands together. “It looks like class is in session.”
* * *
Cam’s sex ed textbook landed on the counter with a thud. “All right, sport,” said his step-father, “shall we see what today’s lesson is?”
Here goes nothing, said a nervous voice inside Cam’s head. He cracked the book open to its next unread chapter.
And felt his heart skip a beat.
“Aww, fuck,” he groaned as he read the chapter heading.
Peering over his step-son’s shoulder, Jason stroked his chin, intrigued. “Condoms: The Friend You Want, the Wingman You Need,” he read aloud. “Everything You’ve Always Wanted to Know but Were Afraid to Ask About Prophylactics.”
Mortified, Cam wiped his hand down his face. “Please kill me now.”
At this, Jason dealt his step-son a paternal pat on the shoulder. “Now, Cam, I know this topic is uncomfortable, but trust me, it’s important. There’s no need to be embarrassed, sport, OK? We’re both men here, aren’t we?”
Cam felt like he was going to be sick.
Jason settled into the kitchen stool next to him. “Now, I’m assuming I don’t need to explain why men wear condoms.”
“C’mon, James,” Cam rejoined, “I’m not an idiot.”
“Just checking, sport.” Jaon raised his hands as if claiming innocence. “In that case, the first thing you should know about condoms is the different kinds. The most common is latex, but they can also be made from synthetic material or lambskin.”
Cam wrinkled up his nose. “Lambskin?”
Jason offered up a shrug. “Well, actually, lamb intestines, if you want to get technical about it.”
“Eww.”
A stern crease appeared on Jason’s brow. “Cam, I thought we were going to be men about this.”
Chastened, Cam responded with a nod. “You’re right. Sorry, Jason.”
A paternal smile warmed his step-father’s face. “Don’t worry about it, sport. You’re doing great. Now, what type of condom did your school give you to practice with?”
All of a sudden, Cam turned pale as a sheet. “Practice?”
“Well, of course,” Jason replied as if it should have been obvious. “The most important part is practical application. Now, which type of condom did your teacher give you boys?”
Cam averted his eyes, nervous. “Umm…she…didn’t?”
Disbelief flooded his step-dad’s face. “She what?”
Cam just responded with a shrug.
With realization sinking in, Jason seemed to grow agitated. “Skipping practical application? What is our educational system coming to? Doesn’t your teacher know her job is to prepare you boys for the real world? And to think she calls herself an educator.”
Personally, Cam thought his step-father was being a tad dramatic, but then again, he did have to respect Jason’s passion for matters of the penis. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised at the umbrage his step-dad took at his apparently lacking education.
“No, no, no,” Jason spoke inwardly, “this will never do.” He snapped his fingers in epiphany. “I know. We’ll use one of mine.”
All of a sudden, Cam felt his stomach flip upside-down.
“Wait here, sport,” Jason said as he mussed his step-son’s hair. “I’ll be right back.” And with that, he scurried up the stairs.
Alone at the kitchen counter, Cam felt his palms start to sweat. They’d agreed that today would be strictly business. How were they supposed to keep this on the up and up while practicing condom usage?
Although, if Cam was being honest, the idea did make his heart begin to race. Yes, it was twisted, but even so, he couldn’t help it. His step-father was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. And Cam, for one, was hooked.
What would be the harm in one more exploration? After all, today was their last chance for male bonding. In just a few hours, his mom’s plane would be landing, and this special guys’ week would officially come to an end.
Fuck it, Cam decided. If this morning was all the time he had left to explore his manhood with his step-father, then he for one intended to make the most of it.
Almost as if on cue, the sound of Jason bounding down the stairs reached their ears. “Found ’em!” He presented the box to his step-son.
Handling the carton, Cam felt his adrenaline spike. “Magnum XL?”
“Take one out,” his step-dad replied with a wink.
Nervous, Cam reached into the box. All right, Cam, he told himself, now stay calm. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Go ahead and make Jason proud.
But as he lifted his eyes from the condom, he discovered this was perhaps not what he’d hoped for, after all.
“What’s that for?” He indicated the banana Jason had retrieved off the counter.
A curious look dawned on his step-dad’s face. “To practice with, of course.” He did a double take then. “Wait a second. When I said we’d do some practical application, you didn’t think I meant…”
“No, no, of course not,” Cam denied, his face red as a beet. “I knew what you meant. I was just, uh, joking!”
The look on Jason’s face said he remained unconvinced. “Glad we’re on the same page, sport.” Nevertheless, he apparently decided to let it go. “All right, what do you say we open it up?” He eyed the wrapped condom between his step-son’s fingers. “Care to do the honors?”
A nervous twitch shot through Cam’s muscles then. “I…I guess?” Heart pounding, he ripped open the wrapper. Never in his life had he handled one of these bad boys before, and now he was about to encounter his first in front of…his step-dad?
Man, life really did come at you fast.
Removing the condom from its wrapper, Cam’s hands trembled like a frightened chihuahua.
“Don’t be nervous, sport,” Jason comforted, observing his step-son’s anxiety. “Remember, it’s just the two of us guys, OK?”
Cam responded with a nod. Jason was right, after all. There wasn’t anything to be embarrassed of, not between a step-dad and his step-son.
He handled the rubber gingerly. The lubricated latex slid smoothly between his fingers.
“What do you think, sport? Should we try it out?”
With another nod, he began to unroll the condom.
“Not like that, sport,” his step-dad corrected. He held out the banana. “You unroll a condom around the penis.”
The light of realization dawned on Cam’s face then. That did make more sense, didn’t it? He positioned the condom on the tip of the banana, his step-father gripping the fruit firmly at its base.
“Go ahead, Cam. Unroll it nice and slow.”
Swallowing hard, Cam proceeded to follow Jason’s instructions.
The condom unfurled easily, rolling down the length of the firm piece of fruit. Cam stole a glance at his step-father then, their faces just inches apart as they hovered overtop, and felt a tingle across his skin at the warmth of Jason’s breath. His step-father smelled of musk and cedarwood.
The sound of Jason’s voice then snapped Cam out of his daze. “Uh-oh. We appear to have a problem.” He flipped the banana upside-down. Silent, the pair watched the loose condom fall off instantly.
“It appears,” Jason said, blushing, “your mother needs to start buying bigger bananas.”
Cam just rolled his eyes. “Who knew we had such big, uh, shoes to fill?”
Jason bit his lip, contemplating. “Well, this is a pickle, isn’t it? How are you supposed to learn about practicing safe sex if our model isn’t, well, fit for the job?” Peeling the banana, he took a hearty bite.
Cam watched his step-dad thoughtfully. “Well, there is one other thing we could practice on.” He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.
The suggestion elicited a double take from his step-father. “Cam! I thought we agreed no more funny business.”
“But it’s not funny business,” Cam countered. “It’s for education.” He gave a sheepish shrug. “After all, you said so yourself—it’s just the two of us guys, right?”
At this, Jason stifled a grumble. “Using my own words against me, eh?” He narrowed his eyes at his step-son. “Oh, well. If it’s for your education, I suppose I can make an exception. What kind of a step-dad would I be if I let my boy become a man without knowing how to protect himself?” He flicked a glance down at his own crotch. “All right, sport. Get to it.”
At this, Cam felt his stomach turn to lead. “Umm…what?”
“I said,” his step-father repeated, growing impatient, “get to it.”
The thumping of Cam’s heart pounded loudly in his ears. “I-I-I was thinking you would demonstr—”
“Me?” Jason sputtered in disbelief. “I don’t need any practice, sport. You’re the one who’s got to pass this class, Cam, not me.”
He had him there, Cam realized.
But putting a condom on…his step-dad? Wasn’t that crossing back into gray territory again?
His mouth began to salivate as he stole a glance at the bulge growing beneath his step-dad’s tight shorts. He wasn’t even hard, but already, his package was stretching that polyester to its limit.
He licked his lips hungrily. How long would it be until another chance like this came along? Maybe forever. This could very well be his final opportunity to admire his step-dad’s manly pipe one last time before their world returned to normal.
Well, hell if he was going to pass this up.
He retrieved another condom from the carton. “And if I want to earn extra credit?”
An aroused chuckle escaped Jason’s lips. “Let’s just take it one step at a time, shall we?” He flicked another glance down at his crotch. Clearly, he was hardening and in need of being freed. “Speaking of…”
Cam swallowed a nervous gulp. “You really want me to…”
“That is generally how this begins.” He cracked a wry grin. “I know you’re new at this, Cam, but I did figure that some parts of this were obvious.” He shook his head in spite of himself. “Here, let me give you a better angle. Raising himself to his feet, he stood before Cam still seated in his barstool. “You may proceed.” He propped his hands on his hips. “Unless, that is, you’re having second thoughts?” He rested a hand reassuringly on his step-son’s shoulder.
A beat of silence passed as Cam considered the question carefully. Despite the stillness between them, the air hummed with electricity.
“Not at all, daddy. Let’s fucking do this.”
Reaching for Jason’s waistband, he pulled his shorts down to his ankles.
Revealing a tight, white jockstrap barely able to contain his step-father’s manhood.
And when it came to his step-dad, manhood was the accurate term indeed. Unable to be concealed by the jock, a thick, curly forest of hair peaked teasingly out from the edges.
For a moment, Cam thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Holy fuck, here he was, sitting with his step-father’s dick mere inches from his face, with nothing covering it but a tight, flimsy jockstrap.
If this was a dream, he didn’t ever want to wake up.
“Well, don’t be shy,” his step-father said. “It isn’t gonna take itself out.”
At this, Cam felt a thrill course through his system. “Yes, sir.” He moved to lower his step-dad’s jock.
“One more thing, sport,” Jason said, pausing him. “Let’s just keep this between us guys, OK? Your mother doesn’t need to know about this. She wouldn’t understand why this is important, and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” He looked to Cam for confirmation.
“Riiight,” Cam replied. Was this a little weird, hiding something like this from his mom? But Jason wouldn’t steer him wrong. He wouldn’t ask Cam to do something that wasn’t above board. Besides, men being men was what this guys’ week was all about. His mother didn’t need to know everything that went on.
Did she?
That was a question for another day. For now, he had a job to do.
Sheath his step-dad’s raging hard-on with a condom as he’d been assigned.
“All right, Cam,” said his step-father. “You know what to do.”
Cam, for his part, sure hoped so. He offered his step-dad a fervent nod.
Breathing in deep, Cam slipped his hands beneath the waistband of Jason’s jockstrap. Thick, manly hair brushed up against his fingertips, sending his heart rate into overdrive.
He swallowed a nervous gulp as he counted down slowly in his head.
Three…
Two…
One…
With a forceful tug, he yanked Jason’s jockstrap from his waist.
And just like that, he found himself face to, well, head, with his step-dad’s hard pork sword.
“Would you look at that,” Jason said proudly, “all set to go.”
Cam licked his lips hungrily—until, that is, a nagging thought gave him pause. Was it a bit weird that his step-dad was so turned on by this? Granted, Cam certainly felt his own blood pumping, leaving little doubt indeed that the feeling was mutual.
But Jason hadn’t even needed to warm up. His dick hadn’t even been touched yet, and already it was hard as a rock. Could it actually have been that that massive, throbbing boner was all on account of just thinking about what Cam was about to do? Could it have been that Cam aroused his step-dad that intensely?
Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.
But there was no going back now.
Heart racing, Cam took in the view of his step-dad’s man meat before him. Fuck, he’d missed the sight of that cock. And seeing it up close now, it was more beautiful than ever—a fat, rigid pole standing at attention, capped with a head so throbbing it had nearly turned purple.
He licked his lips hungrily once more. It would be so easy to move his face in closer. Maybe even close enough to…
Stop it, Cam, warned a voice in his head. We agreed no funny business. This is for education, remember? Now, get your head out of your ass and focus.
Granted, when it came to things Cam wanted in his ass, it was a different kind of head he had in mind.
But that was beside the point. The little voice inside him was right. He didn’t want to make this weird.
Well, weirder than it already was, at least.
Retrieving a condom from the carton, he removed it from the wrapper.
A beat of silence followed as a stillness hung between them.
“It’s all right, sport,” Jason assured. “You’ve got this. Just unroll it down my shaft like we talked about.”
It was just the encouragement Cam needed. Confidence boosted, he nodded in obedience.
Here goes nothing.
The next thing Cam knew, he was touching the rolled-up condom to Jason’s cockhead. Part of him couldn’t believe this was actually reality. This was a scene that had fueled his fantasies for days now. And now that it was happening for real, it almost felt too good to be true.
Another glance down, though, assured Cam to the contrary. That was indeed his hand he was looking at. And that was indeed his step-father’s cockhead it was touching, if only through the barrier of a thin layer of rubber.
See? This doesn’t count as crossing a line, said the voice in his head. You’re not actually touching your step-dad’s dick. There’s nothing sexual about the feel of a piece of rubber.
Almost as if on cue, a twitch ran through Jason’s cock.
A twitch that Cam felt distinctly.
Even through that pesky rubber sheath.
It took every ounce of Cam’s self-control then to stop himself from pulling the condom away from his step-dad’s tip and swallowing that rod to its base.
He snapped himself out of it. Cam, get your mind out of the gutter. Jason is doing this to support your education, not get your rocks off.
Right?
Of course, he was right.
The sound of his step-father’s voice then pulled him back to reality. “You’re gonna have to unroll that thing if you want to pass this exam, sport.”
At this, Cam shook his head clear. Yes, that was right, wasn’t it? He sized up the massive rod before him, with nothing but its tip protected beneath the condom. Passing this final would never be possible if he didn’t learn how to complete the job.
Something told him, though, that he was up to the challenge. Kneeling before Jason, Cam raised his gaze to his step-dad’s face above. A devilish grin twisted the corners of his mouth, his hands propped on his hips in a cocky, self-assured stance.
Deep inside, Cam pushed back against his arousal, but somehow he suspected he was fighting a losing battle. Fuck, this was practically something out of a porno. A slight, young lad, prostrate before the hulking, manly specimen that was his step-father, ready to serve him as he looked on with disinterest.
The thought sent a tingle down to Cam’s toes.
“Well, Cam,” said his step-dad, pulling him out of his thoughts, “you planning on getting started?” A good-natured chuckle escaped him. “It isn’t like we’ve got all day, sport.”
Cam nodded in understanding. Jason was right, after all. He needed to stop procrastinating. The only way this was getting done was if he manned up and did this.
Manned up and rolled this condom down the length of his step-dad’s penis.
You can do this, Cam, he talked himself up. I know you’ve got it in you.
Well, in a manner of speaking.
He inhaled a calming breath. It was now or never.
Slowly, he began inching his hand down the length of his step-father’s rod, unrolling the condom around the thick, juicy pipe.
The sheath rolled down smoothly, encasing Jason’s sausage before Cam’s very eyes. Fuck, this felt surreal. The way his hand wrapped around Jason’s man meat, it was almost as if he was stroking his step-dad.
But of course he wasn’t, though. That would have been crossing a line.
This, however, was for education.
The girth of Jason’s tube weighed heavy in Cam’s hand as he progressed on toward the base. It was a good thing these condoms were extra-large, because even now, Cam questioned whether this sheath would stretch all the way.
But as his fist reached Jason’s furry, manly bush, Cam quickly felt his fears allay. There certainly wasn’t any room to spare, but the condom, even if barely, managed to fit indeed.
“Nice work, sport,” Jason said with a smile. “That’s just how it’s done.”
A swell of pride rose within Cam at the compliment. Making his step-father proud was like no other feeling in the world.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He flicked a glance down at his boner wrapped in the condom.
“As a matter of fact, it wasn’t,” Cam admitted, surprising himself. “You made it way less scary than I was expecting.”
The response seemed to please Jason. “I’m glad I’ve been able to make you feel so comfortable around me, Cam. I know your real dad dropped the ball for you, so I want to do everything I can to make you feel safe. You deserve a father figure who isn’t afraid to go deep.”
At this, Cam felt himself glow. But all the same, he couldn’t fully shake the nervousness tightening his stomach. Despite Jason’s assurances to the contrary, Cam couldn’t help but wonder if this was indeed a bit weird. Here he was, kneeling on the kitchen floor, having just discovered condoms by practicing on his step-father, his heart all the while feeling lighter than he’d frankly ever remembered, all simply because he finally had a step-dad who made him feel safe and protected—even in the midst of such an intimate and vulnerable moment as this.
It was a good thing Jason had that condom on now, because if he hadn’t, Cam might have been tempted then to try and feel his cock for real.
“OK, sport,” Jason said, snapping Cam out of his daze. “That was a good practice round. Now it’s your turn.”
At this, Cam felt his stomach turn to lead. “Umm…my turn?”
A paternal chuckle escaped Jason’s lips. “Of course, sport. As much as I appreciated your assistance, I can put on my own condoms, you know. What I need you to show me is that you’re ready to protect yourself.”
A beat of silence followed as Cam turned inward. Jason had a point, he supposed. Sure, he’d shown he could indeed put a condom on his step-dad, but that wasn’t exactly a scenario he was likely to encounter again.
But putting a condom on himself, right in front of his own step-father? That was taking this to a whole other level. Was he really ready to open up that much?
“You know you don’t have to be ashamed, Cam,” came the soothing voice of his step-father. “I promise when you’re with me, this is always a safe space.”
A wave of calm washed over Cam then. Jason was right, he realized. There wasn’t anything to worry about, not between a step-dad and his step-son. They were just a couple of men being men, after all. This was simply about quality male bonding. And if he couldn’t be vulnerable in front of someone he trusted as much as Jason, how was he ever supposed to learn to take a chance again?
“OK,” he agreed, his palms sweating profusely, “I suppose you have a point.” He stood to his feet and retrieved another condom.
A roguish grin spread across Jason’s face. “I like to think I know what I’m talking about—at least when it comes to matters of manhood.”
Cam nodded, doing his best to hide his nerves. “And you’re not going to tell mom about this?”
“Sport,” Jason said, his tone becoming serious, “you’ve entered into a brotherhood of men now. The bond we share is sacred. I know you’re still just a young pup, Cam, but if there’s one thing you take away from our special guys’ week, let it be this—what happens between men stays between men. Nothing, and I mean nothing, comes before honoring the trust we guys share.”
Silence hung between them as Cam allowed Jason’s words to sink in. “Don’t you ever feel bad, though? Keeping secrets from my mom, I mean?”
Sympathy registered on Jason’s face then. “Sport, I know it probably seems confusing at first, especially because you’re still so young. This—this newfound masculinity you’re growing into—it’s all brand new for you. Don’t think of it as keeping secrets, Cam. Think of it as getting to be a part of something special. Women have their own version, you know. How often does your mother go out with her girlfriends? That’s the way women bond, Cam. This, meanwhile, is how men form relationships—by opening up to each other. By opening up to each other physically.”
Another silence followed as Cam considered his step-father’s explanation. It made sense, he supposed. At the very least, it certainly explained the cravings, the attraction, the desire he’d felt toward his step-father. This was all part of being a man. It was, as it turned out, completely natural.
“But at the end of the day, Cam,” Jason added, breaking the silence, “it’s all up to you. You can only do this on your own time, so it’s your call whether you’re ready or not.”
Cam heaved a heavy sigh as he took the words to heart. Jason was right indeed, he realized. No one could make a decision like this for him. He had to make it solely for himself.
And Cam, for one, knew precisely how he was going to answer.
“Fuck it,” he said, “how hard can this be?” With one fluid motion, he ripped his fly open.
A wicked grin curled on Jason’s lips. “Well, since you’re asking, I’d say just hard enough.” He eyed the bulge propping up his step-son’s underwear. His mouth was practically salivating. “All right, sport. Ready to show me what you’ve got?”
TO BE CONTINUED
Taking the Step, Part 6
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
Cam had never considered himself a particularly confident young lad. But given the way he’d just dropped trou in front of his step-dad, apparently he had more moxie than he’d given himself credit for.
At least temporarily.
Standing in the kitchen before Jason—who still had his sheathed dick proudly on display—Cam glanced down at his own bulge stretching his briefs to their limit. Confidence evaporating, he felt a nervous squirm inside. The agreement had been that this was strictly for educational purposes. But was this starting to get just a little bit weird?
Sure, Jason had assured him there wasn’t anything strange about a more mature man helping a young pup such as himself. What were male mentors for, he’d insisted, if not to induct new initiates into the privileges of manhood?
This was certainly true, Cam decided. But that didn’t stop him from wondering whether this was really something they ought to be doing.
Did the other guys at school do stuff like this with their dads? He imagined his buds—well, maybe they weren’t his buds exactly, but that was beside the point—studying for this sex ed final with their fathers. Did the same secret exchanges occur in their houses, too? Could it have been possible that, all this time, this had been happening across this whole suburban neighborhood without him ever knowing?
Get a hold of yourself, Cam, said a voice inside his head. Of course the other guys don’t get this close with their dads. They can’t with their dads. But you certainly can. Jason is just your step-father, after all.
The thought, however, gave him pause. Just his step-father? No, that wasn’t right. Yes, Jason was his step-father indeed, but there was no just about it. Sure, Jason may not have been a blood relative, but even in the short time he’d known him, Jason had been there for Cam far more than his real father ever had. In fact, when he thought about it, Jason was the closest thing to a real dad Cam had ever had.
To think he’d almost missed out on this bond they’d formed on account of being nervous about this special guys’ week. To wit, his apprehension had been warranted. What young, naive lad wouldn’t have been nervous in his shoes? A shy, awkward eighteen-year-old, stuck home alone with his jocky, testosterone-oozing step-dad he’d been avoiding like the plague ever since he’d married his mom—it had all the makings of a nightmare come to life.
But instead, what Cam had gotten was a dream come true. Man, had this week been one for the books. Not only had he gotten a peep show of Jason jacking off in the shower, he’d also jacked off himself to a secret homemade sex tape starring his step-dad, measured his dick in front of him, demonstrated his masturbatory form to him, put a fucking condom on him…
Why again was he nervous now? It wasn’t like they hadn’t already crossed plenty of thresholds together. And after going this far, what was one more?
“Cam, you OK, sport?”
The sound of Jason’s voice snapped Cam back to reality. “Sorry, I was just…distracted.” His eyes found their way to his step-father’s dick again. Fuck, that thing was still standing at attention. What he wouldn’t have given to slide that pesky condom off and…
“I can tell you’re feeling nervous, sport. And I don’t blame you, Cam. What we’re doing is a big step. I know I’m asking you to be vulnerable, so it’s OK if you’re a little bit scared. But hear me when I tell you this—there’s nothing you need to be worried about here. We’re simply two dudes with two dicks talking about using them responsibly. Deal?”
Before Cam would answer, though, a sudden ringing filled the air.
A disgruntled groan escaped Jason as he reached for his cellphone on the counter.
Following his step-father’s sightline, Cam stole a glance at the caller ID on the screen. It was his mother. “You should get that.”
Instead, though, Jason sent the call to voicemail. “I’ll call her back, sport. I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait.”
* * *
A thousand miles away, Missy scoffed at her phone in disbelief. Sent to voicemail? That was unusual. Jason always picked up for her.
She decided not to linger on it. He was probably just busy with Cam. That was what she’d wanted all this time, wasn’t it?
Listening to Jason’s pre-recorded voicemail greeting, she allowed her gaze to wander and sighed. Rush hour at the airport was not her idea of a good time.
“Honey, hi,” she began her message. “I’m sure you boys must be doing something important, so I promise I’ll keep this short.” She dodged a frantic traveler sprinting full-tilt down the concourse. “We ended up wrapping the project ahead of schedule, so guess what? I’m coming home early! I should be back in just a few hours. Don’t worry about picking me up, though. It’s easier if I just grab a cab at the airport.”
Stepping aside, she paused to examine an info screen. Flight 3418…ready to depart on schedule. She nodded to herself in satisfaction, then continued her clip down the concourse. “Sorry to cut your special guys’ week short, but I’ve missed you both so much. Hope you two were able to form that special bond you were craving.” Checking her ticket, she realized she’d reached her gate. “All right, gotta go, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you boys soon!”
* * *
All of Cam’s body lit up with a glow. Jason never sent his mom to voicemail. Apparently, that was just how strongly he felt about not interrupting this special moment between them.
How badly he must have wanted Cam to feel like the most special boy in the world then.
Cam let himself smile inwardly. One thing was for sure—he certainly felt like the most lucky boy in the world. Having a step-dad like Jason who could make him feel so safe and secure, even in such a vulnerable moment as this, must have been rare indeed.
And for that, he deserved to feel Cam’s appreciation.
“I trust you, Jason.”
Without further ado, he yanked down the waistband of his briefs.
And let his hard cock—all nine, girthy inches of it—spring free.
For a moment, he almost could have sworn he’d seen Jason lick his lips in lust. He quickly decided, however, he must have been imagining it.
His eyes lowered down to his dick standing at attention, fully exposed to his step-dad. Fuck, he wasn’t hiding anything from Jason.
Suddenly, he felt his stomach plummet as his confidence evaporated. Shit, what are you thinking, Cam?
But it was too late to back out now. The best thing to do at this point was to hurry up and get this over with. Hopefully, he wouldn’t die of embarrassment in the process.
Swiping a condom from the box, he ripped open the wrapper and rolled it down his shaft.
“How’s that?”
The clicking of Jason’s tongue signaled that his work left something to be desired. “I’ll be honest with you, sport. If I was your teacher, I’d have to fail you.”
A distraught grimace twisted on Cam’s face. “How come?”
Jason pointed at his step-son’s meat, his finger coming within inches of its plump, throbbing head. “Look at the tip. You’ve got a bubble of air trapped in there.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “That won’t do, sport. This calls for a redo.”
A knot tightened inside Cam’s chest. As if this hadn’t been bad enough the first time around, now he had to endure this awful humiliation again?
Sliding the condom off, he reached into the box for a fresh one.
“Hold up there, sport,” Jason said. “I think I know what you’re doing wrong. How about you let your old man help you this time around?”
At this, Cam’s insides turned to lead. What had his step-dad just said?
“This is no time for being shy,” Jason persisted. “It’s important that a young man learns to do this right. Don’t you agree?”
Anxious, Cam averted his eyes. His step-father…putting a condom on him? He felt his head spin. As if demonstrating for each other hadn’t been pushing the line already, now his step-dad wanted to actually help Cam put on a condom? Fuck, it would almost be like Jason stroking him.
Almost, that is. So long as they were careful, his step-dad wouldn’t actually make contact with his dick. The thin rubber barrier of the condom would surely keep them safely, and chastely, parted.
If they weren’t careful, though? God, it would be all too easy. One false move, one slip of Jason’s hand, and he’d…touch Cam’s cock for real.
Cam had never felt anyone else’s touch on his dick. Even his own hand on himself was still a fairly new sensation. And supposedly, at least according to the guys at school, a hand felt even better when it was somebody else’s.
But what if, Cam asked as his heart began to race, that somebody else was your step-father? Certainly, there was a first time for everything, but was he sure he wanted his first time being touched to be courtesy of his step-dad?
A sudden tingle up shot up Cam’s spine. The question was, was it a tingle of thrill…or fear?
Pull yourself together, Cam, he recentered himself. Jason would be careful—he wasn’t actually going to touch his step-son’s dick for real. And even if it did happen accidentally, would that really be such a big deal? After all, like Jason said, they were just two dudes, with two dicks, talking about using them responsibly.
He shrugged, feigning confidence. “I guess if you say so.”
Although Cam felt nervous inside, he sure didn’t show any signs of it in his dick. In fact, the suggestion that his step-dad provide a more hands-on lesson seemed only to make him harder.
“That’s my boy,” Jason said as he took the fresh condom from his step-son. He removed it from the wrapper. “All right, sport. You ready?”
Cam felt his body start to buzz, fear and excitement mingling together inside him. “Ready.”
Jason returned the confirmation with a nod. Kneeling, he positioned himself before Cam’s throbbing dick. The sight of his step-dad down on his knees before him made Cam’s heart skip a beat.
“Watch how I do this, sport.”
You don’t have to tell me twice, a voice in Cam’s head replied.
What happened next seemed to happen in slow-mo. Bringing the condom to Cam’s tip, Jason carefully unrolled it around his cockhead.
A shockwave of pleasure rocketed through Cam’s body then. Fuck, his step-dad’s firm grasp had the head of his cock encircled. Granted, it may have been through a skintight film of rubber, but the sensation was surreal nonetheless.
“You OK, sport?”
Cam exhaled slowly as his step-dad’s hand, still gripped around his cockhead, sent tingles through his system. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. All good.”
A hint of a grin seemed to flicker on Jason’s face then before he quickly became businesslike once more.
“Good. Should we keep going?”
Cam nodded, eyes clenched shut. “Yes.” The desperation in his voice had been impossible to mask.
Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed then the wolflike grin on his step-father’s face as he prepared to unroll the condom further.
Holding his breath, Cam stifled a moan as more of Jason’s hand wrapped around him. Sure, it wasn’t technically touching him since there was still a condom in-between, but it was certainly closer than they’d ever come before.
Perhaps even too close?
The warmth of his step-dad’s hand inching its way down his dick, though, quickly erased the thought from his mind. The only hand he’d ever felt on his cock, after all, was his own. Experiencing another hand wrapped around him—that was a sensation entirely new to him.
And not just any hand, for the record—but his own step-father’s hand.
“You’ve got to do this carefully,” came Jason’s calm, steady voice. “Putting a condom on properly isn’t something you can rush.”
Cam merely nodded in silence. With how ragged his breathing had become, he feared any words he might try to speak would only come out as a gasp.
Why was he so turned on by this? He shouldn’t have been, he knew. His own step-father rolling a condom down his dick—it was almost like his step-dad was stroking him.
And when it came to masturbation, Cam knew his step-dad wasn’t one to be outdone.
He glanced down at Jason unfurling the sheath around him. He was just past halfway.
A question niggled in his brain then. Did putting on a condom always take this long? Sure, he saw Jason’s point about not rushing things. But this seemed to be taking more time than necessary.
Unless, said a voice in his head, your step-dad is trying to prolong this.
Because he knows you enjoy him touching you.
Because he knows you want to touch him, too.
Because he knows you both want to take the next step.
The next thing Cam knew, his step-father’s grip had reached the base of his cock. Glancing down he took in the sight of his raging boner, his step-dad’s muscular, manly hand wrapped around it, with nothing separating them but a transparent, paper-thin barrier.
Just then, he sensed a tingle brewing down in his groin. A tingle that meant only one thing.
“Oh, fuck.”
Suddenly, Cam found himself watching his cock spurt a thick, hot load into the tip of the condom.
And if Jason had tried to hide the lust on his face spurred on by the surprise explosion, he sure hadn’t done a good job of it. “Sport, that was…that was…” He drew himself together. “That, my boy, is why you can’t let condom tips get filled up with air. Gotta save room for…something else.” He shot his step-son a wink.
Cam, however, was in no mood for levity. Fuck, he’d just shot a load with the force of a high-pressure fire hydrant, and all because he was turned on by his step-dad? How was he going to explain this one away?
Instantly, he felt himself fill with regret. He knew this was a bad idea. He never should have agreed to this. Had he honestly expected this to end with anything other than humiliation in the first degree?”
“Don’t be embarrassed, sport.” Jason let out a chuckle at Cam’s beet-red cheeks. “Hell, when I was your age, sometimes I came just thinking about my cock.” Standing to his feet, he offered his step-son a comforting pat on the shoulder. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, bud. It simply means your male body is working the way it’s supposed to. It’s ready to do the job you need it to do as a man.” He pulled the condom off his own dick, which was, Cam couldn’t help but notice, still hard as a steel pipe. “For your sake, though, we’ll want to work on your stamina.”
Cam felt his heart pound in his chest. We? “I’d better go rinse off,” he said, voice meek. “Thanks for the, uh, lesson.”
* * *
The jet of water prickled as it shot out, hot and steamy, from the showerhead. Warm rivulets trickled down the contours of Cam’s body, slowly tracing the outline of his lean, slight frame.
Sticking his head under the stream, he let out a heavy sigh. Fuck, this was bad. And not just like ordinary bad. This was bad on a monumental level.
Here he was, a young, shy virgin, but almost overnight, he’d practically become obsessed with sex. How could such a drastic change like that have happened?
He knew exactly how, actually, and that was what made this all even worse.
A splash of water splattered against the tile as he wiped a tired hand down his face. Not only was Jason out of his league—a hairy, muscular god who probably ate guys like Cam for lunch back when he was his age—he was also an older man.
Much older, in fact.
Old enough to be…
His father.
Another disgruntled sigh escaped him. That was the worst part of all. Sure, Jason wasn’t actually Cam’s father, but still, he certainly felt like the real deal. No one could have been more surprised than he at how close the two of them had come over these short few days. To think that before this special guys’ week, the idea of spending time alone with Jason made Cam sweat bullets.
Now? Well, it still did that, in fact, but in a different way entirely.
And therein lay the problem.
He wasn’t allowed to have feelings like this for Jason. A young man was supposed to respect the father in his life, look up to him for guidance.
But when it came to Jason, Cam knew he wanted more.
Much more.
What about his mother, though? How could he go behind her back like this? Indulging in wild fantasies about the man who shared her bed—surely, he couldn’t betray her like that. She loved Jason. And Jason loved her.
At least, Cam was pretty sure of that.
But was it the same way that Jason loved him?
He let loose a frustrated groan. God, am I some kind of freak? This can’t be normal, can it? How on earth did I ever let things get this far?
All the same, though, for as far as things had gone, Cam knew that a part of him wanted them to go even further.
His cock, for the record, agreed. It gave an eager twitch as, savoring the warmth cascading down his skin, Cam replayed their scene from the kitchen in his mind’s eye.
His step-father’s muscled, manly hand. Working its way down the length of his virgin shaft. Nothing between them but a flimsy piece of rubber.
At first, the thought of his step-dad’s hand slipping and accidentally touching his cock for real had left Cam trembling. But revisiting the scene in hindsight, Cam felt himself singing a different tune indeed.
If only he could know what it would be like to feel…
To feel…
A knock on the shower door shattered Cam’s fantasy. Although he couldn’t see through the steam that now filled the room, he knew the voice by heart.
“You OK in there, sport?”
His heart did a high-jump into his throat. “I’m fine.” He suddenly registered a sensation below his waist. Glancing down, he felt his pulse flatline.
His dick, once again, had become a hard, raging boner.
And the man who had inspired it was now just feet away behind a clear pane of glass.
“You sure you’re OK, sport? You sound a bit…worked up.” He attempted to fan the thick cloud of steam away, but his efforts proved to be in vain.
“Don’t worry about me,” Cam blurted. Turning his body toward the wall, he willed his cock to relax.
Apparently, though, his dick wasn’t exactly feeling cooperative.
“Go away, would you?” he whispered under his breath, unsure whether he was addressing his boner or his step-dad.
Either way, he evidently was not about to get his way.
“Listen, sport,” Jason’s voice came through the steam. “I know how you feel right now. Embarrassed. Ashamed. Probably even a little guilty.”
At this, Cam fell silent. What exactly was his step-dad getting at?
“But I don’t want my boy to ever feel that way. Especially not on account of me.”
Cam swallowed a gulp. What is he trying to say here?
A short moment later, he quickly got his answer. The next thing Cam knew, a sound that made his heart skip a beat reached his ears.
The sound of pants landing on the floor around a pair of ankles.
His step-father’s ankles, to be precise.
“I’m going to prove to you, Cam, that I’m not going to let anything come between us anymore.”
* * *
Meanwhile at forty thousand feet, Missy gazed longingly out her window. Just a few short hours, and she’d finally be coming home to her men.
Part of her hated to cut Jason and Cam’s special guys’ week short, but she knew more likely than not, they’d appreciate the early reprieve. As much as she believed in always staying positive, she knew that with those two, the odds of them hitting it off were painfully slim. She could only imagine that a little bit of quality time went a long way indeed for her son and his new step-dad.
But at least it was a start. Forming new relationships never happened overnight when a new man entered a house. And in their case especially, Missy knew not to get her hopes up. After all, one could only expect so much from a veritable man’s man like Jason holed up with a shy, awkward lad like Cam. She loved them both, of course, but the reality was the pair were like oil and water together. Heck, with those two, she’d be lucky if they hadn’t beat the living daylights out of each other at this point.
Pulling out her phone, she connected to the in-flight Wi-Fi. Surely, Jason had received her voicemail, but just in case not, a follow-up email certainly couldn’t hurt. The last thing she wanted was to catch her boys by surprise.
* * *
“Jason, what are you doing?” Naked in the shower, Cam felt his heartbeat pound like a jackhammer.
The glass-paneled door cracked open slowly. “Just what I told you, sport. I want to prove to you that nothing—and I mean nothing—needs to come between us anymore.”
The blood in Cam’s veins pulsed a mile a minute. Holy fuck. This isn’t actually…surely, this isn’t actually…
But as a matter of fact, it was happening indeed.
Jason was joining Cam in the shower.
Jason, without a single stitch of clothing on.
“Is this OK, sport?”
The hissing of the showerhead reverberated between them as the pair stood stock-still in the shower.
“Sport?”
The affectionate nickname to which Cam had become accustomed pulled him out of his daze. “I think so?” He turned inward to process his thoughts.
Ever since the day he’d first met his new step-dad, Cam thought he’d felt something special. He may not have fully recognized it initially, but somehow deep down, Cam suspected he’d always known.
Who could have blamed him, though, for not seeing what had actually been in front of him all along? For starters, Cam hadn’t even known if he was truly gay. What’s more, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined a skinny, nerdy dork like him could ever catch the eye of such a big, burly gladiator. And then, there was the real deal-breaker, of course. The fact that that gladiator was none other than his step-father.
Pensive, he chewed his lip in thought. Did he want to do this more than anything else in the world? Hell yes.
But that, in fact, was exactly what worried him. What if he wasn’t supposed to feel this way? What if they were actually headed straight for an irreversible mistake?
Then again, what if this turned out to be everything he’d ever desired?
There was just one way to find out.
Locking eyes with Jason, he nodded his head, resolute. “Yes, I’m ready.”
A hungry smile curled on his step-father’s lips. “Good boy.”
* * *
July seventeenth, the summer of Cam’s freshman year. He could still remember it like yesterday.
It was a Sunday, and it had started like any other. But in just a few short hours, it would become a day—the day—Cam knew he’d never forget.
He still looked back on the memory as if it held a secret. Something that he’d yet to discover, something that he’d missed all the times he’d replayed the fateful day in his mind’s eye before, something that could finally help him answer the question that still haunted his darkest thoughts.
Why hadn’t he been enough to deserve his father’s love?
Perhaps if Cam had been better at sports, it would have made his father happy. Or maybe if he hadn’t been such a nerd.
Or maybe, Cam thought with a sigh, if he hadn’t been such a goddamn fucking queer.
He’d never told his real father about his…persuasion. But he didn’t have to. He could tell his father knew just by the look in his eyes. By the way he beheld Cam with disappointment. With scorn.
With disgust.
The day Cam’s father left was the day Cam learned the truth about the world. That everyone, ultimately, is all on their own. That no one, not even the man who raised Cam, could really love him back.
And learning that lesson had punctured Cam’s chest like a spear.
Today, however, for the first time since that day had changed everything forever, Cam felt like that wound might just be starting to heal.
Perhaps because this, too, was a day that would change everything once again.
Held in his step-father’s embrace, Cam inhaled his musk slowly. It was a scent that over the last few days had become increasingly familiar. A scent that had come to bring Cam comfort he’d never before known.
“You know I’m proud of you, sport, right?”
Cam felt his heart go pitter-patter as Jason gently wiped his hair away from his eyes.
“But why?”
Sadness and tenderness mingled on Jason’s face. “Your real dad sure did a number on you, huh?” Taking Cam by the shoulders, Jason addressed him man-to-man, their naked bodies facing each other, his linebacker build dwarfing Cam’s by comparison. “I know you’ve been hurt, Cam. But you don’t need to worry anymore. You’re my special boy, sport. I love you as if you were my very own son.”
The hissing of the showerhead filled the beat of silence as Cam considered his step-father’s words. Around them, steam swirled up from the floor, enveloping their bodies in warmth.
“We’ve come a long way these past few days,” Jason continued amidst his step-son’s silence. “I’ll be honest, I was nervous at the start of our special guys’ week. I think a part of me was worried you weren’t ready to open up.” A bemused smile quirked on his lips. “But, hey, look at us now.”
A relieved chuckle escaped Cam. His step-dad certainly had a point. He glanced down at their two bodies before each other—Jason’s tan, bearish chest just inches from Cam’s slight, pale frame—rivulets of water trickling down their figures before swirling together at their feet.
His eyes came to rest on their cocks. At the start of this week, he would have been mortified at a sight like this—himself fully exposed with his step-dad likewise hiding nothing. Just two men, their male instincts, and nothing left to get in the way of embracing their masculinity to the fullest
The way it was meant to be.
“I’m glad you’re learning to be more confident,” Jason said, following Cam’s sightline to their dicks just inches away from each other. “This kind of trust is unique for men like us.” Pulling Cam in close, Jason wrapped his step-son in a big bear hug.
And in doing so, pressed their two cocks directly against each other. The sensation of their shafts touching nearly took Cam’s breath away.
“I promise you, Cam,” Jason whispered into his step-son’s ear. “I’m going to treat you like my very special boy.” He planted a kiss tenderly on Cam’s forehead.
Cam felt as if a spark had just lit on his skin.
Then, Jason planted a kiss on Cam’s cheek.
The spark became more like a lightning bolt.
And finally, Jason kissed his step-son’s lips.
The lightning bolt turned into fireworks.
And just like that, the world around them vanished as Cam lost himself in his step-father’s embrace. The firmness of his tree trunk arms, the tickle of his furry chest…
The sweetness of his breath on Cam’s lips.
Fuck, he’d tried to fight this. But all along, it was everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d craved without even knowing it.
The masculine comfort of his step-dad gave Cam’s heart a squeeze. It was the clearest he’d ever felt seen, the deepest he’d ever felt loved. And it was all thanks to his step-father.
He hadn’t chosen for things to turn out this way, for his step-dad to become his infatuation. But who, when it came down to it, could blame him? Jason was a veritable god, for Christ’s sake. His hairy, lumberjack chest. Bulging, tree trunk arms. Plump, red ripe nipples.
And of course his heavy, fat monster of a pecker. Hairy, veiny, and almost purple with arousal—Jesus, that thing probably qualified as a weapon of mass destruction.
Or at least, of ass destruction.
But it was so much more than just Jason’s manly physique—and titanic cock—that gave young Cam the butterflies. What really made him feel at home was the way Jason welcomed him with such open arms. The way he took his step-son under his wing, eager to help him discover his newfound masculinity like only an experienced older man—one at the peak of his sexual prime—could do.
Like Jason said, a young lad entering his manhood was a sacred rite of passage indeed. And in the time-honored tradition of experienced male guides inducting fresh, new initiates into the brotherhood of male sexuality, Cam was certainly glad indeed to have such a virile champion leading the way for him.
Exactly as a father—or in his case, step-father—should.
He crushed his lips hard against his step-dad’s, letting him know he no longer cared about right or wrong. Even if this had seemed twisted at first, now that he’d surrendered to the desires they both shared, Cam knew he’d never be able to go without this again.
Their tongues twisted together, step-dad and step-son tasting each other hungrily. To think that this whole time, this was what they’d been missing out on for fear their urges were unnatural.
Now that Cam had given in, though, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Pulling his lips away, Jason peered into his step-son’s eyes. “You see, sport? Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Cam nodded, understanding.
“I’m so glad this week has brought us closer together, sport.”
“Just like Mom wanted,” Cam added with a smirk.
The comment earned him an eye roll. “Just like your mother wanted.”
A beat of silence followed as Jason furrowed his brow in thought. “You know, though, there is one minor problem.”
At this, Cam’s heart took a freefall. “Problem?”
“Well, yeah,” Jason went on. “I made a promise to your mom, after all.”
“You did?” Cam knew this was too good to last.
“Sure, sport. Don’t you remember? I promised her I’d help you prepare for your senior finals.”
A wave of relief washed over Cam then. “Oh, don’t worry about—”
“But I am, sport,” Jason persisted. “Here I’m supposed to help you pass sex ed, but we still haven’t covered the most important lesson.”
All of a sudden, Cam felt his heart begin to race. “Oh?”
Spinning around, Jason turned off the shower. “Come on, sport. Let’s get dried off. It’s time you get a real education.”
* * *
By the time the plane touched down on the tarmac, Missy couldn’t take her phone off airplane mode fast enough. Surely, Jason must have returned her call by now.
Patient, she waited for her phone to refresh as passengers around her rose to retrieve their carry-ons. It would be so good to hear her husband’s voice again, if only through a recorded voicemail. Jason was such a romantic at heart. She couldn’t wait to hear what sweet message he must have left for her while she had been in the air.
As the seconds stretched on, though, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. Missed text messages, push notifications, and more all flooded the screen, but the message she was waiting for was nowhere to be found.
Dimming, she clicked her phone screen off. She hoped Jason and Cam were alright. It was so unlike him to ghost her like this.
She shook the thought from her mind. What are you worried about, Missy? Clearly, Jason isn’t getting back to you because he’s busy bonding with Cam. This is exactly what you wanted.
Isn’t it?
Rising from her seat, she collected her suitcase from the overhead bin. Before long at all, she’d be back home with her men, and she could lay her anxieties to rest.
* * *
Cam’s heart raced like a runaway train. This whole special guys’ week, he and his step-father had grown closer and closer, breaking down walls with each passing day. Little by little, they’d tested their limits, crossing lines they knew they could never uncross. The whole ordeal had become one big, long, torturesome tease. And now, if Cam’s hunch was right, he was finally about to get his payoff.
He swallowed down a gulp. At the start of this week, he would have shuddered at the scene that was about to play out. Now, though, it made his body hum with anticipation.
Wrapped in towels, the two men sat themselves on the edge of the bed.
“Are you sure this isn’t weird?” Cam asked. “Doing this in yours and Mom’s bedroom?”
The question elicited a chuckle from Jason. “It’s just a bed, sport.”
Sure, supplied a voice in Cam’s head, just like how you’re just another dude.
He quickly pushed the thought away. If Jason wasn’t worried about this, then neither was he. It was time to prove to his step-dad what a good boy he could be.
“I guess if you say so.”
Settling in, Jason gave his step-son a loving pat on the back. “I sure am proud of you, sport. Studying all week like you’ve been, you’re sure to ace this sex ed final of yours.”
The praise made Cam beam with pride. “Well, after all, I’ve got to pass if I want to graduate.”
Jason nodded, understanding. “At the end of the day, though, sport, you know it’s not an exam that matters, right? It’s whether you can apply what you’ve learned.”
Cam felt an eager tingle shoot up his spine. “Apply?”
Another nod followed from Jason. “And like they say, sport…father knows best, am I right?”
“Step-father,” Cam corrected with a smirk.
Jason returned the grin. “Yes, how could I forget?” He mussed up Cam’s hair, mischievous.
Cam’s cheeks flushed red as Jason’s gaze traveled downward to the peak tenting under his towel.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sport,” Jason assured. “You’re hardly alone here.”
Cam suddenly became aware of the erection his step-father sported beneath his own towel.
“What do you say I teach you something you won’t learn in that sex ed class of yours?”
At this, Cam felt his heart beat double-time. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“How about”—Jason rose to his feet then—“I show you?” His towel dropped from his waist, revealing his thick, hard, and hairy pecker.
It was the most beautiful sight Cam had ever seen.
“What do you want me to do?” Looking up at his step-father, he awaited his instructions.
“Just follow your instincts, sport.” Jason tossed his step-son a wink. “I’ll coach you from there.”
Cam nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.” Shifting his gaze back down, he sized up the massive man meat directly before him. It was the closest he’d gotten to his step-father’s manhood yet.
His forbidden manhood.
Fuck, it looked so juicy—his plump, red cockhead glistening before Cam, a crown atop his long, fat, hard-as-a-rock pole. And anchored by a thick, dark, manly bush of hair.
Cam knew exactly what his instincts told him to do with this.
TO BE CONTINUED
Taking the Step, Part 7
A Spicy M/M Taboo Daddy Romance
Sitting on the edge of his parents’ bed, Cam licked his lips at the sight of his step-dad standing in the nude before him. His heart beat double-time as he took in Jason’s perfect form, savoring the view of his hulking masculinity towering above him.
God, this was a dream come true. Jason might as well have been a classical Greek statue, carved from rock-hard marble, the way his taut physique flexed.
The thought of what that powerful body could do with lean, slight Cam sent a tingle down his spine that shot to the tip of his dick.
Silent, he cast his gaze upward to meet eyes with his step-father. A spark of lust lit up Jason’s face like Cam hadn’t thought possible.
And it drove him fucking wild.
What could it have been about Cam that so possessed his step-dad? Surely, such a stallion like Jason could have had his pick of any man he wanted. But yet, despite all the hunks, the muscle gays, the gym bros, and more that Jason could have chosen from to satisfy his desires, the lover he’d selected was his own virgin step-son.
It turned out Cam indeed was the apple of his father’s—well, step-father’s—eye.
And that meant he had a big responsibility ahead.
Emphasis on big, he thought to himself as he lowered his gaze down to Jason’s package.
What a magnificent cock his step-dad had. Inches away from Cam’s lips, Jason’s rod stood at attention, pulsing in eager anticipation. The slit had already begun to leak precum, signaling Jason’s eagerness to feel his step-son take his length with his mouth.
Gone was any inhibition, any shame over the strange passion the two men had discovered for one another. It was taboo, Cam knew, in the eyes of the world outside, but here in this house, here during their special guys’ week, the rules of society had no hold. Here within these walls, here where it was only he and Jason, they were free from the burden of what others said was acceptable, liberated from the arbitrary dictates of right and wrong.
Why shouldn’t a father figure be able to guide a young lad into the privileges of his newfound manhood? Why should all that wisdom and experience go to waste?
Especially when Cam was such an eager, young student—one who couldn’t wait another minute to learn from a pro like his step-dad.
God, he had to be the luckiest eighteen-year-old scamp in the world, about to be initiated into his full-fledged manhood by a titan like his step-dad. That dirty fucker Jason was the best instructor a young lad could ask for.
And the fact that he was his step-dad, Cam had gradually begun to realize, actually made it all the hotter.
Honestly, his mother didn’t deserve to have Jason all to herself. Jason was a stallion who needed to run free. He’d never be satisfied being tamed by the likes of her.
Not the way that Cam knew he could satisfy his step-dad.
He took stock again of Jason’s hairy, built-like-a-brick-shithouse body before him. It was pure, beautiful, absolute testosterone.
To think this special guys’ week had ever given Cam anxiety. If only he’d known this moment had been waiting for him, he wouldn’t have been able to kick his mom out of the house fast enough.
They’d come a long way in the span of a few days—further indeed than most young men and their step-fathers ever managed to get. Just the thought of all this week had entailed so far made Cam’s cock throb with excitement. From his initial peepshow of Jason jerking himself to discovering the homemade sex tape starring his step-dad, from measuring dicks in the kitchen together to practicing sheathing themselves with condoms, from taking a shower together to a full-on step-father-step-son makeout session, this special guys’ week had truly brought them closer than they’d ever thought possible.
Just like Cam’s mother had wanted.
Well, sort of.
And here Cam had worried that he and his new step-dad wouldn’t get along.
Because if the last few days had been any indication, Jason was exactly the kind of step-father Cam had always wanted.
“All right, sport,” Jason said, his voice low and sultry, “clearly, you’ve got the book smarts to pass your sex ed test. But do you have what it takes to pass my test?” A roguish glint flashed in his eyes then. It was the look of a professional issuing a challenge.
And this was one challenge Cam was all too happy to accept.
Slowly, he brought his hand up to Jason’s rod—his step-father’s rod. There’d be no condom to get in the way this time—just raw, real, skin-to-skin contact.
Exactly as he’d craved.
“Fuuuck, Cam,” Jason moaned, watching from above as his step-son wrapped his hand around his mighty shaft. “This is what I’ve been wanting.”
A spark of joy lit up inside Cam’s chest at the praise from his step-father. It was all he desired to bring him the pleasure he so well deserved.
“How’s it feel?” He stroked his step-dad’s length gently, working every inch of his perfect, glorious cock.
“Amazing, sport,” Jason confirmed. “I’d say you’re a natural at this.”
A satisfied smile curled on Cam’s lips before he returned his focus to the task, well, at hand. He stroked his step-father’s dick gently, worshipping it as if it gave him life. There’d be plenty of time to speed things up later, but for now, a slow, lazy milking would suffice just fine.
And judging by the way his step-dad had just dropped his head back in bliss, clearly he agreed. Raising his arms, Jason tucked his hands behind his head as he reveled in his step-son’s admiration. The stance opened up his body completely to his boy, presenting his cock front and center to be glorified as it deserved.
A manly musk—like rich earth mixed with spices—drifted across Cam’s nose. He lifted his face to the sight of his step-dad’s dark, furry pits now exposed. Fuck, what a perfect view.
Hips gyrating, Jason leaned his pelvis into his step-son’s slow, steady hand. His breath had become labored, his mighty bear chest rising and falling with each desperate pant.
It was then that Cam realized he had his step-father spellbound. Jason may have been built like a linebacker, but in that moment, the way this dick massage seemed to be transporting him to another plane of existence, he was completely under his step-son’s control.
The revelation sent a thrill coursing across Cam’s system. Clearly, his mother didn’t pleasure Jason like this. He decided to make it his mission to get his step-father hooked on him. To make sure that by the end of this, he’d become his step-dad’s new addiction.
Lord knew that Jason sure was his. What was this obsession he had with his step-father? It was more than just his perfect, lumberjack body, more than just his sure, confident experience. More than even his fat, ten-inch pole.
Although, granted, that was certainly a nice bonus.
All told, what really had Cam captivated, he’d decided, with his step-father—possessed with a desire to please him, praise him, worship him—was the secret bond they now shared. The forbidden bond.
No one could know of the line they were crossing together. A step-father with a longing for his step-son? A step-son who longed for him back? It would be the biggest scandal their quiet suburban neighborhood had ever seen.
Still, though, it was worth the risk. After discovering the carnal euphoria that was his step-dad, Cam didn’t think he’d ever be able to settle for less.
It would just have to stay their little secret.
Not that Cam minded, of course. As long as he knew inside that he was his daddy’s good boy, that was enough for him.
He refocused again on Jason’s cock. The mammoth, hard-as-steel pipe radiated warmth in Cam’s novice but surprisingly capable hand. Stroking gently, he explored the contours of his step-dad’s dick, savoring the discovery of Jason’s perfect specimen.
This was exactly how things were meant to be, he thought to himself. Him, an inexperienced but eager young lad, uncovering his most intimate desires, being safely guided into his newfound manhood by the mature, trusted mentor who finally made him feel at home.
For that, he’d do just about anything to show Jason his gratitude.
A sudden idea struck him then. According to the guys at school, while a handjob felt good, there was something else Cam could do that would feel even better.
Would his step-father like it if Cam sucked his cock…with his mouth?
There was just one way to find out.
Bringing his face in close to Jason’s groin, Cam inhaled a deep whiff of his step-father’s musk. The masculine pheromones made the back of his neck tingle.
Jason seemed to catch on to his step-son’s intentions. “You sure about this, sport? You sure you want to blow your step-father’s cock?”
As if you have to ask, Cam thought to himself. Letting his slutty eyes do the talking, he brought his mouth to his step-dad’s dick.
And planted its head with a soft, delicate kiss.
Jason’s whole body heaved in delight. “Hell, yeah, sport. Show me how my boy can suck cock.”
The command sent a thrill through Cam’s system. He should have been nervous, he knew. After all, he’d never even given a blowjob before. And now, he was supposed to offer one to his very own step-father?
Talk about pressure.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said, as if sensing his step-son’s anxiety. “I’ll be sure to guide you every step of the way.”
That comforted Cam considerably.
“All right, here goes.”
Opening his mouth, he prepared to take his step-father’s cock. A rod like this would be no small challenge, but if anyone deserved Cam’s very best attempt, he knew it was none other than Jason.
His step-father’s cock warmed Cam’s mouth as it entered.
“Atta boy, sport,” Jason moaned, reveling in the slickness of his step-son’s lips gliding down the length of his shaft. “Open up wide for Daddy.”
Cam did as commanded, allowing Jason’s manhood to breach his eager mouth. With each veiny contour, he felt like he was getting to know his step-father deeper and deeper, discovering the forbidden landscape of his most intimate treasure.
A wave of adrenaline coursed through his body. For days, he’d been fantasizing over—lusting after—this dick.
His step-father’s dick.
And now, it was all his.
How on Earth was this actually real life? Here he was, a young, fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, getting his first taste of man meat from his burly linebacker step-father? Who, for the record, was not only testosterone personified, but also, now that Cam had gotten to know him, the most kind, gentle, and comforting male mentor he’d ever known.
Geez, he must have hit the step-father jackpot.
He licked the sides of Jason’s hard-on, getting it sloppy with spit.
“You like that daddy cock, huh?” Gripping his rod, Jason slapped it against his step-son’s pretty face.
A blissful grin spread on Cam’s lips. “Feed it to me, Daddy.”
Without further ado, Jason shoved his cock back into his step-son’s mouth. And this time, he intended to shove it all the way down.
A choke escaped Cam as his step-dad’s cockhead reached the back of his throat. The fat pipe was barely halfway inside him.
“Come on, sport,” Jason said, “I know you can take it all the way down.”
Eyes watering, Cam nodded at the encouragement. He felt like he might gag any moment, but still, his step-father believed in him. That was all the motivation he needed to keep pressing on. Exhaling deep, he relaxed the back of his throat, allowing Jason’s rod to push further in.
It slid down with ease.
A sigh of contentment issued forth from Jason. “That’s it, sport. That’s how you deepthroat Daddy’s dick.”
The praise gave Cam’s heart a warm squeeze. He savored the feeling of his step-dad’s cock lodged in his throat, stuffing his windpipe with a fullness Cam had never known. It was a foreign sensation, one that Cam hadn’t expected he’d enjoy, but now that he was experiencing it, he couldn’t get enough.
A sudden desperation for his step-father took hold over Cam. He wanted more. Needed more. More of his cock. More of his commands. More of everything about him.
His full transformation into Daddy’s little slut was officially complete. Nothing mattered at all to him except giving his step-father the pleasure he deserved.
Opening his jaw wide, Cam thrust his mouth onto his step-dad’s fat pole, saliva running down the length of the shaft. A series of choking sounds came as he rammed the dick down his throat, but still he didn’t relent, not even for a moment. Life had no meaning if he couldn’t be worshipping this cock.
Gagging, he finally released the mammoth pipe from his lips. “Am I doing it right, Daddy?”
Jason nodded, reassuring. “Exactly right, sport.” He stroked his step-son’s cheek lovingly. “You sure this is your first time doing this?”
Cam wiped the drool from his lips. “I guess you just bring it out of me.”
At this, a devilish grin quirked on Jason’s face. “Well, now that we’ve brought something out of you, what do you say we try putting something in you?”
Cam felt his heart skip a beat.
* * *
Standing outside Arrivals, Missy grumbled as yet another taxi drove off without her. This was the third cab she’d lost to a more swift-footed traveler.
She surveyed the crowd of fellow weary souls, all vying to escape this godforsaken airport like her. At this rate, getting a ride home could take all afternoon.
Defeated, she took a seat on top of her carry-on. Calling Jason to come pick her up was still an option, she supposed, but she was already cutting their special guys’ week short as it was. The last thing she wanted was to disrupt what little time her two men had left. Besides, given how Jason wasn’t checking his phone, clearly he and Cam must have been occupied with something important.
And how she would hate to interrupt quality male bonding.
* * *
Doing a double-take, Cam repeated Jason’s words to make sure he’d heard him right. “Put something in me?”
The toothy grin on Jason’s face widened. “I’d like to see if my boy can take it like a man.” Gripping his cock, Jason slapped it firmly against his free palm.
Just the sight of the heavy, rock-hard pipe in his step-father’s confident hands made Cam’s pulse beat double-time. “I don’t know, Jason. You’re so big. What if it hurts?”
Jason placed a comforting hand on his step-son’s shoulder. “It might hurt at first, sport. But only a little, and I promise it won’t hurt long.”
Sitting on the bedside, Cam furrowed his brow in thought. His step-father…inside him? He’d never taken a cock before in his life. Now, his step-dad wanted to be his first?
Fuck, just the thought of it made his dick twitch with desire. Jason was a man’s man through and through. If there was anyone Cam wanted to lose his virginity to, it was him.
Visions of his step-father entering him—dominating him—filled his imagination. Already, he could feel his blood running hot.
But was this going too far? After all, handjobs and blowjobs were one thing—full-on fucking was another entirely. The former, if needed, could be easily shrugged off as innocent fun—guys being guys and all that. Allowing his step-dad to fuck him, though—that was the ultimate form of male intimacy. And once they crossed this line, things would most definitely never be the same again.
Jason seemed to sense Cam’s hesitation. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t think you’re ready, sport. But think of this as the final lesson in a complete sex education.”
Forehead creased, Cam contemplated his step-father’s offer. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity he had before him. Who knew when he’d get the chance again to experience his step-dad like this?
And hell if he was about to pass this up.
“Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me like your dirty boy slut.”
* * *
Sitting in the backseat of the cab she’d finally managed to snag, Missy decided to attempt conversation with her driver. “I sure am glad I was able to flag you down. You wouldn’t believe the time I had trying to catch a ride.”
The driver just nodded, disinterested.
An awkward silence passed as Missy realized she wasn’t getting a response. “I’m on my way home to my son and my husband,” she went on. “I’ve been away for work, you see, and this is their first time having the house to themselves. I just got remarried not long ago.” She flashed the rock on her finger in the air.
Again, the remark was met with silence. Outside Missy’s backseat window, traffic whizzed by in the oncoming lane. “They’re having a special guys’ week, you see. Jason always wanted a son of his own. And Cam, well, he could really use a father figure to guide him.”
Another absent nod from the cab driver up front.
“I hope they’ve managed to come closer this week,” Missy continued to contemplate. “I’ve been telling Cam for months he should open up to Jason. Somehow I’ve got this feeling he’s finally ready to let his step-dad in.”
* * *
Lying on his back, Cam inhaled a deep breath. The air in the room practically hummed with electricity.
Pulse pounding in his ears, he took stock of his step-dad hovering over him. It hadn’t been until Jason had been practically on top of him that Cam had gained a true appreciation for how massive his step-dad was compared to himself.
Fuck, was he sure he could do this?
Jason met eyes with his step-son under him, their faces merely inches apart. “Just relax, sport,” he said, as if sensing Cam’s nervousness. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”
Nodding, Cam felt his heart pound against his chest. Holy fuck, Cam. You’re actually about to get fucked by your step-dad.
Or at least, so he thought.
“Jason, what are you doing?”
The next thing Cam knew, he was ass-up in the air, knees touching his chin. His step-dad was gripping his cheeks, holding his hindquarters directly over his head.
Jason licked his lips like he was about to devour a five-star meal. “Getting you warmed up, of course.” He savored the view of his step-son’s smooth, pink entrance ready and waiting for him to sample. “Man, my boy has a pretty looking hole.”
Cam feigned an awkward chuckle. “Thank you?”
Jason smacked his step-son’s ass cheek, leaving behind a bright red handprint. “This ass belongs to me now, understood?”
The directive sent a shiver coursing through Cam’s spine. Mostly, it was a shiver of excitement. His step-father had claimed him. Claimed him as his own. Yet under the arousal, Cam detected a note of fear inside. Jason was a Goliath if ever there was one. Meanwhile, he was just a twig in comparison. Jason might have said he’d go easy, but Cam knew deep down that with the sexual appetite his step-dad possessed, it wouldn’t take long for him to lose his promised restraint. And while the idea made Cam’s heartbeat race, the question remained, was he truly ready be fucked without mercy?
It was a predicament that had him at once terrified and exhilarated.
Another smack on his ass jarred him out of his thoughts. “I said,” came the firm voice of his step-father, “this ass belongs to me, boy.”
Cam swallowed a nervous gulp. “Yes, sir.” Still on his back, he pulled his knees in toward his ears. Ready or not, it was too late to back out now.
Looming overhead, Jason quickly went wide-eyed as his step-son’s cheeks spread further. This beautiful, virgin hole, never before defiled, was all his for the taking.
Well, technically, it was Cam who’d be doing the taking, but now wasn’t the time for semantics.
Hawking a wad of spit, Jason let a string of drool dangle high over his step-son’s hole. Hanging in mid-air, the droplet of saliva stretched down, descending inch by inch until it finally touched Cam’s pucker like a kiss.
His step-father’s DNA making contact with his threshold sent a shockwave of excitement rocketing across Cam’s system.
Jason’s still-moist lips curled in a smile at the bliss his deposit had spurred on Cam’s face. “You kinky fucker, you.” He smacked Cam’s ass again. “That’s my boy.”
Without so much as another word, he dove face-first into his step-son’s hole.
Cam’s exclamation followed instantly. “Hoooly fuuuck.”
Jason would have said something smart in reply, but nothing in that moment could have pulled his face from his step-son’s immaculate hole. Hungrily, he savored the sweetness of his boy’s pucker.
At first, he worked his tongue gently, twirling it over Cam’s opening. The sensation sent shivers pulsing through the young virgin’s body.
Gradually, the gentle twirling intensified, becoming more and more aggressive. More and more primal.
“Fuck,” Cam gasped, “I can’t believe you know how to eat hole like this.”
Finally, Jason came up for air. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about your old man, sport.” He immediately plunged his head back into his step-son’s hindquarters, lubricating and loosening him with his experienced, capable mouth.
Delirious, Cam lay back in bliss, euphoria written plain on his face. “This hole is all yours, Daddy. I want you to use it however you want. Use me however you want.”
And use his boy Jason did. Inhaling deep, Cam’s step-dad seemed to enter an animal-like state, crazed with desire for his step-son’s virgin hole. A low growl rose from him as he feasted on Cam’s pucker, breaching his entrance with his skilled, muscular tongue, preparing his boy to be filled with something bigger.
Something much bigger.
With a pop of suction, Jason pulled his mouth away from Cam’s ass. “I’d say that ought to be enough warm-up. What do you say, sport? Ready to prove you can be my good boy?”
Cam flashed his step-dad a devious grin. As if the matter was even a question.
One foot on the floor, the other on the edge of the bed, Jason lifted his step-son’s legs even higher above his head, hovering over his boy as he prepared to enter him.
Pinned underneath, Cam savored the view of his step-dad looming over him. Between the blood rushing to his head and the blood rushing to his, well, other head, he felt like he might pass out from bliss any moment.
His step-father—his bona fide, real-life step-father—was about to be inside him.
Holy fuck. This special guys’ week really had brought them together.
“Alright, sport,” Jason’s calm voice intoned, “here we go.” Locking eyes with his boy, he pressed his cockhead against Cam’s tight pucker, sending a shockwave throughout his step-son’s body.
Cam’s eyes shot open wide. “Fuck, Jason. That’s…that’s…”
“Not even inside you yet.”
Intensity gripped Cam’s body as, slowly, he felt his hole stretching open, his step-father’s mammoth cock breaching him bit by bit.
Even with the warm-up he’d received, nothing could have prepared him for this.
Grimacing, Cam winced in discomfort, unaccustomed to the sensation of being filled inch by inch.
“Just breathe through the pain, sport,” Jason assured calmly. “Let yourself relax, and it’ll all feel just fine.”
Eyes glossy, Cam nodded in confirmation. Fuck, he’d known taking his step-dad’s monster cock wouldn’t be easy, but this was turning out to be even harder than he’d expected. At this rate, Jason’s cock was liable to split him in two.
Teeth gritted together, Cam steeled himself against the intrusion stretching his hole to its limit. The girth of his step-father’s supreme cock was nearing the point of unbearable.
And then, just when Cam thought he couldn’t possibly take any more, Jason’s dick reached a spot inside him that changed everything.
“Ohhh, fuuuck.”
A roguish smile curled on Jason’s lips as he watched Cam’s eyes roll back in bliss. “Congratulations, sport. Allow me to introduce you to your prostate.”
* * *
The cab rolled to a stop, and Missy looked up from her phone. Home already? Wow, had they made good time.
Unfortunately, her glee proved premature. It wasn’t their destination her driver had braked for, but rather a massive traffic jam…with no end in sight.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her driver just shrugged, indifferent. “Sorry, lady. It is rush hour, after all.”
Groaning, she dropped her head against her backseat window. Don’t worry, Missy, she reminded herself. It won’t be long, and you’ll be back home with your guys once more.
* * *
Cam’s breath heaved as his step-father’s cock dragged blissfully over his newfound sweet spot, massaging his cherry with every slow, sensual thrust.
“See?” Jason held Cam by his ankles as he confidently drove into him. “I told you it’d be worth it.”
Below him, Cam squirmed in euphoric delight. “This is…the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.” Tingles shot up his spine with each new thrust of his step-dad’s dick. “I never even knew that feeling this good was possible.”
“Well, I did say I intended to give you a proper education.” Jason eyed his step-son’s hard-on, already leaking with precum. “And I believe in being a man of my word.” He gripped Cam around his waist, pinning him down as his boy’s hips grinded against him with lust.
No doubt about it—his step-son was enjoying this every bit as much as he was.
Throughout the room, the scent of sex filled the air, fueled by the release of the two men’s pheromones. The musk served only to heighten the pair’s arousal, bringing to the forefront their primal male urges.
“Your step-dad making you feel good, is he? Making you squirm with that raw daddy dick?”
A series of moans escaped Cam as Jason continued pounding him with his weight. “Fuck, I can feel you throbbing inside me.”
“You’re such a lewd boy, Cam. Driving me wild, making me crave your tight, little hole. I bet you wanted this all along, didn’t you?”
Cam gasped for breath as his step-dad continued drilling him. “And now, I don’t want you ever to stop.”
Jason certainly didn’t need to be told that twice. Summoning his strength, he started to plow Cam with even greater power. “Hell yeah, Cam. I could fuck this perfect hole all night.”
Next to the bed, the nightstand shook to the rhythm of Jason’s vigorous thrusts. Meanwhile, the bedframe creaked as if on the verge of giving out.
Sweat dripping down on him, Cam took in the view of his step-dad exerting himself overhead. Every muscle in Jason’s body flexed with raw, masculine vigor.
“Fuck, Jason,” Cam panted, his slight frame powerless under his unrelenting step-father. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
He knew the answer, of course. Back at the start of this special guys’ week, Jason and Cam couldn’t have been more at odds. After all, what could a mature, beefy stallion like Jason have in common with a young, inexperienced scamp like Cam, anyway?
As it turned out, more than either of them had ever thought possible.
His step-father’s hips bucking into him, Cam lost himself in reverie. Who would have ever thought their week of male bonding would lead to this? To fucking their brains out—step-dad and step-son.
Their bodies united, Cam savored the forbidden pleasure of his step-father filling him—as if with each thrust, he was helping his step-son become more of a man.
Warm waves of pleasure rolled throughout his body. Giving himself—all of himself—to Jason was the best decision he’d ever made. Maybe it wasn’t a traditional arrangement—after all, hadn’t he himself at first clutched his pearls at the thought of surrendering to such taboo desires?—but now that he’d gotten over the shock factor, he wondered if his step-father might become his new addiction.
“Fuck, Daddy,” Cam gasped, fingers digging into the sheets, “I’m going to need this every day now.”
A bemused smirk lit up Jason’s face. “You got it, sport. It’ll be our little secret.”
* * *
Finally, after what felt like forever, the freeway exit came into view. A surge of joy lifted Missy as they turned toward the off-ramp. Just a few more minutes, and she’d be back home at last.
Hopefully, she’d find the house still standing. After a week of Jason and Cam being left to their own devices, she knew virtually anything was possible.
* * *
Banging against the wall, the headboard was practically loud enough to hear next door as Jason thrusted himself greedily into his step-son’s now gaping hole. Overcome with lust, he pounded Cam relentlessly like he was determined to wreck him outright.
And judging by the moans of delight that Cam couldn’t seem to contain, the young virgin step-son was loving every minute of it.
It had been a long journey to get here—from disdain to indifference, from curiosity to fear, from shame to surrender, from guilt to liberation.
Now, all that remained was sweet, sweet bliss.
Fucking hot sweet bliss.
“Jesus, that hole feels too good to be true.” Rearing his head back, Jason drilled, unforgiving. His whole hard cock—all ten girthy inches of it—pounded in and out.
A low, primal growl escaped him. Over the years, he’d had more than his fair share of pussy—but nothing could compare to this, to his own step-son’s raw hole.
Warm and slick, Cam’s insides welcomed the persistent thrusts of Jason’s conquering cock inside him. The smooth caress of his boy’s hole along the length of his full shaft sent tingles coursing out into Jason’s body. With each squirm of Cam’s pinned-down frame, his entrance gave Jason’s manhood a tight, desperate squeeze.
“Fuck, your boy pussy drives me wild, sport.” And it was true, too. But not just because of its physical perfection. What really made Jason spark with lust was the deep, trusted intimacy the two men had finally found together. He’d always wanted a young lad to teach and to train, to guide with a confident hand into the brotherhood that being a man had to offer.
From the moment he’d first met Cam, he’d had his fair share of doubts, of course, but still, something inside him sensed that his shy, skinny step-son had immense potential as a man, if only a mature, older father figure could help bring it out of him.
And as it turned out, while Cam did indeed have it in him all along, now he had the bonus of something else inside him, too.
His step-dad’s praise spurred a devilish grin on Cam’s face. “It’s all for you, Daddy. Now don’t hold back. Give me everything you’ve got.”
Cam’s wish was Jason’s command.
“Oh, yeah, sport? Think you can take your step-dad at full-force?” Without further ado, Jason unleashed himself on Cam, fucking his step-son like he’d never fucked before.
Cam’s body flailed like a rag doll. “Fuck, Jason,” he whimpered, feeling like he was about to break in two. His voice bounced to the rhythm of his step-father railing him brainless.
In and out, in and out, Jason’s massive fuckrod plowed. By now, Cam’s hole was gaping open wide, stretched and wrecked by his step-father’s merciless railing. But even though he was being obliterated, being used like a mere plaything, Cam savored every moment of this heaven-on-earth bliss. It was no longer that he simply wanted to be filled with his step-dad’s cock—now, he needed to be filled with it, needed to have it deep, deep inside him.
Loud, unrestrained moans filled the house as, almost as if on another plane, Jason jackhammered his step-son on overdrive. Their bodies worked together perfectly—Jason’s hulking, powerful mass bearing down on Cam’s lean, lithe frame.
“Fuck, you little slut. Taking Daddy’s dick like such a good boy.” He gazed down at Cam beneath him, his slight but toned build powerless under the onslaught of his own linebacker build. He’d really won the step-son jackpot. For this, Cam deserved to be step-son of the year. He could fuck his perfect step-son like this every single fucking day.
“Daddy, I love you so much!”
“I love you, too, sport. I love you, too.”
Before long, a familiar swell began to rise in Jason’s groin, like a wave gathering momentum before reaching its crest.
It wouldn’t be long now.
“Fuck, Cam,” Jason panted, pile-driving his step-son like a rag doll. “I’m getting close, sport.”
Cam suddenly became possessed with a lust he never thought possible. Desire—no, need—to be filled with his step-father’s seed consumed him like wildfire.
“I’m gonna shoot this load so deep inside you, Cam.” His face had become crimson with intensity. “You want this load, sport?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Cam pleaded, never more earnest in his life. “Don’t make me wait any longer. Give me that thick, creamy man milk.”
Jason nodded his confirmation. “You got it, sport,” he said, voice strained to its limit. “Here…it…comes!”
Like an explosion, hot jizz filled Cam’s insides as his step-father’s cock shot a full, sticky load into his boy. Shockwaves of bliss radiated from the tip of Jason’s penis as the eruption continued to pump out semen.
“Fuck, Cam. I’m cumming in you.”
“Yes you are, Daddy. Shoot that milk all the way into me.”
The sensation of being flooded with his step-father’s warm cum made Cam’s toes curl in the air. His step-dad’s seed, deep inside him. It was the greatest gift he could ever receive.
All of a sudden, he registered a familiar stirring in his own groin. He knew that sensation. Oh, fuck. He was about to cum, too.
The next thing Cam knew, a tidal wave of bliss seized him as a thick rope of cum launched out of his dick, shooting over his head and painting the headboard behind him like a Jackson Pollock.
Jason’s jaw practically fell clean off. “Holy fuck, sport. Did you just cum hands-free?”
Nodding, Cam breathed through the aftershocks of the force that had just rocked his body. “Proud of me?”
Jason collapsed on top of his boy, wholly and completely spent. “I’m very proud of you, sport.” He panted, salty and sweaty.
Chests pressed together, the two men felt their hearts beat as one. Their glistening sweat mixed as their bodies savored the afterglow.
Still on top of Cam, Jason brushed his hair from his eyes. His special boy—he could savor this sight forever. Who would have thought that sweet, innocent face could have such a deviant side?
One thing was for sure—if this afternoon had been any indication, Cam had this sex education exam in the bag.
Rolling over onto the bed, Jason lay on his back next to Cam. “Not bad for a special guys’ week, huh?”
Cam let out a lighthearted chuckle. “Not bad at all.”
* * *
Reaching into her purse, Missy doled out a tip for her driver. Granted, it hadn’t been the smoothest trip home, but she supposed that couldn’t have been helped.
Taking her suitcase in-hand, she spun around toward the house. Jason still hadn’t returned any of her messages, she reflected as the cab drove off. At this, her forehead creased in worry. Her husband was normally so attentive. She was infinitely curious what could have kept him and Cam so preoccupied. Whatever it was, it must have had them hooked.
She shook her head in spite of herself. Don’t go getting jealous now, Missy. After all, you wanted the boys to bond. It’s good that they’ve found a shared interest together.
She hoped she wouldn’t catch them too off-guard. After all, she wasn’t supposed to be due home for a few more days. While she did hate to bring an early end to their special guys’ week, a part of her couldn’t wait to give them a fun, impromptu surprise.
Climbing the front steps, she pressed the doorbell firmly. Imagine the looks on her two special guys’ faces!
Christmas Under Wraps, Part 1
A Cozy M/M Small Town Holiday Romance
Graham felt his stomach churn the moment the waiter arrived with their drinks.
“That’s one Candy Cane Cosmo and one Mistletoe Mai Tai.”
He did his best not to recoil as the server set the abominations in front of them.
“Cheers!”
Managing a polite nod, he grimaced as his date practically pounced on his own monstrous cocktail.
“Isn’t this place a riot?” the certifiable ten-out-of-ten named Derek whom Graham had met the week before at a Barry’s fitness class said as he downed his first sip of Mai Tai.
Graham spun around to take stock of the holiday-palooza surrounding them. “It’s certainly…something.”
His tone seemed to go unnoticed by Derek. “Tinseltown Tinsel Time has got to be hands down my favorite holiday pop-up bar in LA.”
Graham winced at the spinning Christmas tree anchoring the makeshift lounge. At least, he was pretty sure there was a tree under there. It was hard to tell with the department store’s worth of ornaments packed onto its ill-fated branches.
“You don’t think it’s a bit over-the-top?”
A look of realization dawned on Derek’s face then. “You don’t like Christmas.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Clearly, though, his defense had not been convincing.
“What could you have against Christmas?” He said it as if Graham had just insulted his mother.
Graham let out a defeated sigh. “It’s just that it’s all so…much.” He gestured broadly at the kaleidoscope of red and green entrapping them. “And, frankly, if you ask me, that applies to this whole, entire season.”
Derek fixed him with a look like he couldn’t quite compute the words that had just met his ears. “Come on, you must have just a little holiday cheer.”
Graham shook his head, defiant. “Anyone who thinks this is the season of cheer ought to get their head checked. This whole Christmas charade is nothing but a front.”
Derek rolled his eyes, impish. “Says the man whose job is public relations.”
Finally, Graham reached for his drink. “Look, people are more than welcome to buy into this holiday nonsense, but I, for one, will pass.” He took a sip and grimaced.
Derek just shook his head in spite of himself. “Because you—oh, wise sage—you see through it all in your infinite, cynical wisdom.” He cracked a sporting grin as he swigged again at his Mai Tai.
Graham shrugged, nonchalant. “You know what they say. Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.” He made a second attempt at his monstrosity of a drink.
Apparently, though, his aloofness only heightened his date’s intrigue. “Maybe,” Derek said as he leaned in close, “you just need someone to help put you in the mood.”
Under the table, Graham felt a shoe rubbing up against his own. His heart began to beat double-time.
Only to come grinding to a halt at another surprise.
The ringing of his cellphone.
A disgruntled sigh escaped Derek as he watched Graham fish the device from his pocket.
“I’m really sorry, Derek,” Graham said as he read the caller ID. “It’s a work call.”
The comment drew a scoff of disbelief. “Again? Really?”
“I’m so sorry,” Graham repeated, already getting up from the table.
“That fancy PR firm must be treating you pretty good, the way you bend over backwards for them.”
Graham smiled through gritted teeth. “You’d really think so, wouldn’t you?” He centered himself with a breath, his phone still ringing in the background. “Look, I swear I’m not always this way. It’s just that with that new executive spot opening up, now’s the time to show a little initiative.”
A withering look came over Derek’s face. “I just hope it’s worth it.”
Graham responded with a confident nod. “This promotion would be everything I’ve spent my career working toward. It’s going to be more than worth it.”
Derek just nodded in silence.
“I promise this’ll just take a minute.” With that, he headed for the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”
* * *
Out on the sidewalk, Graham dodged a trio of holiday sweater-clad merrymakers stumbling their way down the block. Judging by the group’s rendition of Jingle Bells, their merriment appeared to be flowing in more ways than one.
He scoffed bitterly as he stabbed the answer button on his cellphone. “Hi, boss. What’s shaking?” He did his best to sound casual.
The voice across the line, though, was anything but.
“What’s shaking? What’s shaking? Clearly not you, if you have to ask a question like that.”
Graham swallowed the lump that had found its way into his throat. “What, uh, seems to be the trouble, sir?” The words came out like he was trying to stave off a bear attack.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it trouble per se, Graham. Just your biggest client making Toys for Tykes of Southern California’s annual holiday toy drive the most talked about event of the season!”
Graham scratched his head, befuddled. “Yes, sir. That is the reason she’s there, is it not?”
“You’d certainly think, except that she’s making it trend for all the wrong reasons!”
Almost as if on cue, a news alert pinged on Graham’s phone. He pulled the device from his ear to read the screen.
And let out a gasp of horror.
It was a headline to make his heart stop: LIVE: Full of Holiday Spirit(s)—Tinseltown’s A-List Plastered Princess Makes Mockery of Charity Toy Drive.
Graham winced as the weight of a bowling ball landed in his stomach. “Come on, Coco. Again? I was just about to make third base.”
“What was that, Mr. Bartlett?”
Oh, shit. He was still on the phone. He cleared his throat, businesslike, as he returned the device to his ear. “I’m on my way over now for damage control.” With that, he ended the call.
Halfway to his car, though, he realized he’d forgotten something.
Derek.
He couldn’t just ghost him. Surely, he’d understand if Graham explained. It wouldn’t take more than a minute.
But when he returned inside, the scene he discovered dropped his heart into freefall. Derek was nowhere to be seen.
The next thing he knew, he was snapped from his daze by a voice. “That friend of yours—real nice guy.” It was their waiter.
Graham arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah, gave me his member card to Barry’s to use up through the end of the month.” He shrugged, dumbfounded. “Said he wouldn’t be needing it anymore. Something about switching gyms, I think?”
Not even stepping on a glass Christmas ornament would have hurt as bad as those words did then.
The waiter patted Graham cheerfully on the back. “Between you and me, that’s the best tip I’ve ever gotten.” A beat of silence followed. “Say, did you need something?”
Graham shook his head, sullen.
“Didn’t want directions to the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Didn’t come back for another round?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Didn’t forget something here?”
Graham heaved a heavy sigh. “Just my dignity.”
Returning the waiter’s back pat, he saw himself out.
* * *
Why the next morning he felt compelled to torture himself by ordering a stack of fresh tabloids to his office, Graham was frankly at a loss to explain. It was a given that the coverage of the previous night’s fiasco would be bad. Shuffling through the magazines and newspapers strewn out across his desk, he realized it was merely a question of just how bad.
Washed-Up Actress Coco Holliday Makes Annual Toy Drive a Wash-Out
Not-So-Jolly Holliday: Fallen Star Coco Holliday On Blast After Drunken Toy Drive Debacle
Dreaming of a Wine Christmas? Coco Holliday Sure Is
He dropped his forehead to his desk. “Why me?”
He’d tried getting a hold of Derek once the crisis had died down—texts, calls, even an email, for Christ’s sake. But Derek’s silence said it all. They were through.
“Eh, who needs him,” Graham muttered as he deleted his almost-lover’s number from his phone. He was a go-getter, a hustler—if Derek didn’t like that, then it was his loss. Graham had bigger things to focus on.
Namely, this shot at a promotion. It wasn’t exactly ideal timing with the holiday and all, but that was neither here nor there. Graham never had been much of one for making the yuletide, well, gay. If he could just end the year strong, he knew it would make him a frontrunner for the job.
So long as Coco didn’t louse it all up for him, that is.
A former child star, Coco Holliday as of late had become known less so for her performances on the screen and more so for her performances at the nightclub. And, no, it was not because she’d launched an act in a floor show.
It had become the thorn in Graham’s now very tenderized side.
Being a celebrity publicist of course had its perks. Who wouldn’t love a job rubbing elbows with the rich and famous? But behind the glitz and glamor, it could be a real hell of a gig.
Mostly because of clients like Coco.
He shouldn’t complain, he knew. He’d come a long way thanks to this job. Luxury condo, exclusive parties—who would have thought a shy, small-town gay boy would grow up to lead the life he led?
Now if he could just land this promotion, he’d have everything he ever wanted. He could practically hear opportunity knocking.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.
He shook himself from his daze at the sound of someone at the door to his office. His daydreams would have to wait. For now, it was back to reality. “Come in.”
Steeling himself, he winced as his boss blustered into his office with the force of a category five hurricane.
“Mr. Burns. Pleasure to see you.”
The bulldog of a man made a warpath up to his desk. “Don’t you worry, we’ll soon fix that.”
Graham swallowed a gulp.
“Mr. Bartlett,” Burns said as he loomed over Graham like a wrecking ball poised for destruction, “do you know why our clients choose to hire Brooks & Burns?”
Graham felt as if his tie had suddenly tightened around his neck. “Because,” he replied, “Brooks & Burns is the best PR firm in LA.” He added hastily, “A reputation that is well-deserved, sir, if I may be so bold.”
A beat of silence followed as Burns sucked in a deep, long breath.
“Then what,” he exploded, “would you say our clients will think about us when they take a look at this?” He slapped another tabloid down on top of Graham’s collection.
The cover story hit like a gut punch: From A-List to the Naughty List: Hollywood Disgrace Coco Holliday Stoops to New Low and Ruins Christmas for Underprivileged Youth Across LA.
He might as well just hand in his resignation now.
“The studio is not going to be happy about this, Graham. Holiday With the Wholesomes comes out Christmas Day. You know the chance they took casting Coco in the lead.” The portly man began pacing across the floor. “Cripes, the original black-and-white is practically the most beloved holiday film of all-time! Everyone has their eyes on this remake, Graham. The studio cannot afford this kind of bad publicity leading up to the premiere.”
Graham felt himself bristle as he realized his boss’s implication. “And Coco showing up to a charity toy drive three sheets to the wind is my fault because…?”
“Because you’re her publicist, Graham! It’s your job to protect Coco’s image!”
“Of course, but not to babysit her! Do you have any idea what it’s like trying to keep America’s Boozehound Blondie in line?”
Just then, there came a knock at the door. A mousy, bespectacled figure poked his head through the crack. “Graham, a visitor for you, sir.”
He held up a finger. “One moment, Orlando.”
The assistant stepped back out.
Softening, Burns heaved a tired sigh. “Yes, Coco’s a handful, Graham. You know that, I know that—heck, even the studio probably knows that. But do you know what else? The studio doesn’t care. Frankly, they did Coco a favor by giving her a shot at a comeback, and they’re banking on her—and us, mind you—to deliver.”
Graham nodded in understanding. As much as he hated to admit it, Burns was right, and he knew it. “So, what do you want me to do?”
Burns settled into the chair facing Graham’s desk. “Coco’s movie comes out Christmas Day. All you need to do is make sure she doesn’t stir up any more negative publicity before then.
The directive drew a scoff from Graham. “Yeah, right. Coco attracts bad PR like Christmas cookies attract cavities.”
Burns gave an unsympathetic shrug. “Then find a way to keep her out of the limelight.”
Graham laughed like his boss had just told him a joke. “And how exactly do you propose I do that? This is LA, Mr. Burns—one of the biggest media markets in the world. There’s no hiding Coco here.”
Burns rubbed his chin, considering. “Yes, I suppose you have a point. You’ll have to take her someplace else.”
Graham sputtered at the suggestion. “Take her somewhere? Excuse me?”
“Somewhere off the grid. Somewhere the media will never think to look.” He snapped his fingers like he’d just had a stroke of genius. “Say, Graham. Aren’t you from a place like that?”
Before Graham had a chance to rebut, though, they were cut off by the reappearance of an increasingly urgent Orlando. “Your visitor is getting awfully antsy, Graham.”
Graham waved him off, distracted. “Just keep them busy, Orlando. This will only take a minute.” He turned back to his boss as his assistant saw himself out. “Look, Mr. Burns. I know that, in theory, bringing Coco home with me might sound like a good idea. But let me assure you that in practice, it’s a very, very bad one.” He quickly tacked on, “And of course I mean that with the utmost possible respect, sir.”
Mr. Burns, however, did not appear convinced. “Nonsense, it’s a fantastic idea. What’s that name of your hometown again? Marzipan Grove?”
“Mistletoe Grove,” Graham answered with a sigh.
“That’s the one!” Burns leapt, virtually manic, from his chair. “If that little town of yours is anything like you’ve described, Graham, it’s the perfect place for you and Coco to lie low.”
The very thought of being holed up in that tiny mountain town with his most exuberant client made Cam’s stomach twist into a knot. “I don’t know, boss. Isn’t that a bit…extreme?”
Mr. Burns installed himself back into his chair. “Why, yes, Mr. Bartlett. It is a bit extreme.”
Graham leaned back and sighed relief. Finally, his boss was coming to his senses.
“This, however, is an extreme situation.”
So much for that.
Mr. Burns put on a conspiratorial air. “Look, after this little stunt Miss Holliday pulled, the studio can’t afford to take any more heat. Another bad headline, and Holiday With the Wholesomes is through—and more likely than not, us along with it. Now, all you have to do is fly our little party girl out to your quaint, little winter wonderland and soak up some holiday charm for a few days. Keep her off the grid, then come Christmas Day, fly her back to LA for the premiere. It’ll practically be like a vacation.”
“I don’t know,” Graham replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been back home for Christmas in years.”
Burns flashed him a roguish smile. “Well, in that case, I’d say you’re overdue for a reunion then, don’t you think?”
The next thing Graham knew, he found himself gawking at a panting Orlando bracing himself, frantic, in the doorway. “Mr. Bartlett, I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold your visitor off.”
Graham let out a frustrated groan. “Come on, Orlando. How hard can they possibly be to handle?”
The question proved to be prophetic. Almost as if one cue, in came a stumbling character he knew all too well.
“Coco?”
She let out a drunken hiccup.
“I tried to warn you, man,” Orlando said.
Graham rushed to the teetering starlet before she was liable to collapse right there in his office.
Burns cracked a devious smirk. “Tell me, Graham, are you still interested in that open executive position?”
“Head of client accounts?” he replied, working to stabilize the incapacitated star.
Burns nodded coolly. “This is a job that needs someone who can go the extra mile. Here’s your chance to prove to me you’ve got what it takes.”
Without ceremony, Coco tossed her cookies onto the office floor.
“Not on my good shoes, Coco!”
Burns straightened his tie, grimacing. “Keep Coco under wraps for the holiday, and come New Year’s, this firm could be Brooks, Burns & Bartlett.”
Instantly, Graham shot to attention. “You mean it, boss?”
“I’m not making any promises, Graham. You know as well as I do there are plenty of qualified candidates. What I’m telling you is that if you want a chance at being considered, I need to see you’ve got what it takes.”
Graham worked to stand Coco upright. Burns certainly drove a hard bargain, but if it meant landing this promotion, a few days back home with his client was not a bad price to pay. He gave her an impatient shake. “All right, Coco, look alive. You and I have a plane to catch.”
* * *
Hands at ten and two, Graham steered the Toyota Prius he’d rented at Boston Logan International along what was beginning to feel like an endless loop of B-roll of bleak, wintry highway.
Years had passed since the last time he’d driven icy roads like these, but apparently not even LA could erase the conditioning he’d built up after countless New England winters.
He side-eyed Coco in the passenger seat next to him. “You know, I’d say that hoodie really suits you.”
She regarded the new Someone in the Bay State Loves Me sweatshirt she currently had on in disgust. “For your information, that blouse was Hermès.”
Graham let out a scoff. “Quizzing me on my designer labels, are we?”
“You don’t wash Hermès, Graham.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t own any, then.”
Coco folded her arms and steamed. “You know, most people buy bottled water to drink it—not give their client a surprise waterboarding.”
The jab, however, left Graham unfazed. “Meanwhile, most clients don’t show up to the airport at nine A.M. with eight shots of vodka already pumping through their veins.”
“Please,” Coco responded with an eye roll. “It was only six. Seven at most.”
Graham shook his head to himself. “In that case, my apologies.”
Coco grimaced again at her new ensemble. “God, I look straight out of one of those Look Who Let Herself Go stories. Do you know how hard I work not to be in those stories, Graham?”
“Coco, you are literally constantly giving the tabloids new antics to write about.”
She flipped her hair, haughty. “But I always do it looking fabulous.”
Graham just rolled his eyes. “Forgive me that the airport gift shop was lacking in haute couture.” He loosened his death grip on the steering wheel. “If it’s any consolation, that water I doused you with was designer. That overpriced camisole of yours is currently soaking in the finest spring-fed water Mount Fuji has to offer.” He tossed her another side-eye. “Water that I’ll be billing you for, I’ll have you know.”
She paid him a scowl. “You do know that if it were up to me, you’d be fired by now?”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing then that it’s your boss at the studio who signs my checks.” He cracked a wry grin as Coco fumed to herself.
“I can’t believe this,” the star responded after a pause. “Spending Christmas—my absolute favorite holiday—practically out in the wilderness.” She surveyed the white, barren landscape out the window. “I bet the Bergdorf here probably doesn’t even serve real champagne!”
Graham felt his grip tighten on the steering wheel again. Keep it together, Graham, he reminded himself. You want that promotion, don’t you? It’s only ’til Christmas. Surely, you can survive being cooped up with Coco ’til then.
He followed the exit for Mistletoe Grove. “Tell me this, Coco, you want this movie to be a success, right? You want this to be your triumphant career comeback, right?”
“Of course I do,” she shot back. Her exterior softened then. “You know what this movie means to me.”
Graham also softened. He did know. Coco was not the first in her family to pursue a dream of acting. Her grandmother—silver screen siren Iris Wintergreen—spent the prime of her life scraping and scrounging her way through cheap, tawdry B-movies back during Hollywood’s Golden Age. The original Holiday With the Wholesomes was the first film for which she would finally be recognized for the true talent she possessed.
Unfortunately, Iris never lived to see it.
The night before the premiere—a posh red carpet event at the famed Grauman’s Theatre—Iris was found dead in her hotel room, the victim of a fatal overdose.
It turned out, years of disregard and ridicule had finally done Iris Wintergreen in.
If it was any consolation, the film’s runaway success finally earned Iris the long-overdue appreciation she deserved for her moving dramatic talent. Unfortunately, it had come too late. Iris died a nobody. A nobody who would never know the mark they’d made on the world.
Holiday With the Wholesomes wasn’t just about a comeback for Coco. It was a tribute to her grandmother’s legacy. A chance to fulfill a dream that had been snatched away from her grandmother and walk the red carpet, just like Iris had always imagined, in her honor.
Graham touched a hand to Coco’s knee. “I do know what this means to you. Which is all the more reason why we can’t mess this up. If you want to do this for your grandmother, then I need you to follow my instructions.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not exactly happy about this myself, you know. But like it or not, here we are. So let’s just make the most of it, shall we?” He decided to add on, “Just promise me you won’t strip to your panties and dance on any tabletops?”
Coco feigned offense at the remark. “When has that ever happened?” She grit her teeth. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” Her gaze turned back out the window. “Well, at least I’ll still have my adoring public. I wonder if my movie will be playing in town.”
Graham failed to hold back his snort. “I wouldn’t count on it. Keeping up with pop culture isn’t exactly folks’ strong suit around here.” He watched the wheels turning inside his companion’s head.
“You mean I’ll just be…”
“A pathetic, boring nobody like the rest of us poor saps? Bingo.” He chuckled to himself. “Welcome to the real world, toots.”
Coco dropped her head to the dashboard. “This is going to be miserable.”
“Aww, chin up,” Graham replied, doing his best not to enjoy this too much. “You say you like Christmas? This town is practically the worldwide headquarters of Christmas. People from literally all over pour into Mistletoe Grove to celebrate the holidays. Believe me when I say that if you like Christmas, you’ll be in good company here.”
Coco narrowed her eyes shrewdly. “If you like Christmas? You mean you don’t?”
The accusation tensed Graham up like a statue. “I didn’t say that.”
“But I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
The scowl on Graham’s face told Coco all she needed to know. She furrowed her brow as if unable to compute. “What on earth could someone possibly have against Christmas?”
“It’s nothing but a scam, Coco. All this nonsense about holiday cheer, goodwill toward men—none of it exists in real life. The whole season is just a charade to sell tinsel and greeting cards.”
The comment seemed to cast a cloud over Coco. “Gee, I wasn’t aware I’m spending Christmas with the Grinch.” All of a sudden, her face lit up with an idea. “Maybe you need to get laid.”
Graham did a double take. “Coco!”
She shrugged innocently. “Oh, don’t be a prude. I know what guys like you like to do with their free time.”
Graham couldn’t help but scoff then. “Free time? What free time?”
“Don’t tell me you’re always working.”
“When I’ve got clients like you, I am.”
She feigned offense at the remark.
“Oh, don’t take it personally,” Graham continued. “As far as I’m concerned, there are far more important things than finding love—or finding sex, for that matter.”
She cocked her head at him. “Such as…?”
“For starters, this promotion. This is the shot I’ve spent my whole career working toward, Coco. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Everything?”
The question seemed to catch Graham off-guard. “Of course.”
Coco shrugged, puckish. “Seems to me it’d be awful lonely having everything you want without someone to share it with.”
Graham replied with a groan, “What are you driving at, Coco?”
A wry grin spread on her face. “You said it yourself. We’re stuck here anyway, so we might as well make the most of it. Maybe here you’ll have time to indulge in some…merrymaking.” She tossed him a mischievous wink.
He felt his cheeks turn red. “I don’t think so, Coco.”
“Oh, yeah?” She pinned him with a glare. “Give me three reasons why not.”
“Gladly.” His tone became businesslike. “One. We’re here for work, not play.”
“Says you.”
“Two. Even if we were, there’s no sense getting attached to someone when we’ll only be leaving again after a few days.”
“But why—”
“And last but not least—and this one is really the nail in the coffin—even if we were here for fun, and even if I was looking to get attached, it doesn’t mean a thing when the market here has gone dry.”
Coco furrowed her brow, contemplating. “Surely, it can’t be—”
“Drier than Grandmother’s fruitcake,” he said, rather proud of the impromptu quip. “For a town that traffics in glitter and fairy dust, Mistletoe Grove is as heterosexual as they come. You’re more likely to find Bigfoot here than another gay man.”
Still, Coco appeared undeterred. “Well, you never know. This is the season of miracles, after all. Maybe you’ll find yourself some Christmas magic.”
Graham snorted audibly at the remark. “That’s a laugh. I’ll believe in Christmas miracles the day bottoms can start eating burritos.”
The image made Coco’s nose wrinkle. “Eww, Graham.” She shook herself off. “Look, all I’m trying to say is, give Christmas a chance.”
“Easy for you to say.” His gaze appeared to drift far away then. “Look, maybe you always had a picture-perfect holiday growing up, but for some of us, it was a different story, OK? We weren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouth, you know.”
Just as Coco was about to respond, though, she found herself cut off.
“Oh, look. Here we are.”
A hand-painted Welcome to Mistletoe Grove sign passed by out the window. At the bottom, there read a tagline, America’s Christmas Capital.
But as the pair rolled into town, their surroundings seemed to suggest otherwise.
“I thought you said this place was a Christmas hotspot?”
Graham surveyed the barren Main Street ahead. “I don’t get it. This town was always crawling with tourists this time of year.”
“Not anymore, apparently.” She surveyed the virtual ghost town out her window.
Which wasn’t to say that Mistletoe Grove lacked in the way of charm. The old-fashioned storefronts and wrought iron street lamps looked painted by Norman Rockwell himself. It was just that, for such a postcard-ready spot, the whole scene felt strangely…empty.
Graham scratched his head, dumbfounded, as he eyed the vacant brick sidewalk from behind the wheel of their car. “What happened to everyone?”
“Maybe they’re all on a coffee break?”
He shrugged, at a loss. “Perhaps this is for the best. After all, fewer people means fewer chances for someone to blow our cover. The less attention we attract, the better. We are here to keep a low profile, after all.”
A smirk appeared on Coco’s face then. “You mean like whoever lives there?” She nodded to a house up ahead, decked to high heaven with enough holiday decor to put the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree to shame.
Following her sight line, Graham felt his stomach do a backflip. “That would be…my mother.”
* * *
“Graham, you look so skinny!”
Graham braced himself as his mother smothered him in a bear hug outside the front door. “I guess my time at Barry’s is paying off then.”
His mother’s gaze shifted then to Coco getting out of the car in the driveway. “I didn’t know you were bringing company.”
Graham shrugged as if to feign innocence. “Well, Mom, I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Hi, Ms. Bartlett,” Coco greeted as she ascended the porch steps. “My name’s Coco. I’m Graham’s—”
“Girlfriend!”
The starlet’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Forcing a smile, Graham made a point of not meeting eyes with her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a loving squeeze. No doubt about it, he’d be getting an earful about this later. For now, though, his priority needed to be selling this.
And judging by the smile now beaming between his mother’s rosy cheeks, it appeared the cover story was working.
She let out a squeal of joy. “What?! Is this true? Come here, Coco!” She smothered the nonplussed actress in perhaps an even bigger bear hug. “My name is Carol, but you can call me…Mom.” She took a step back to take in the sight of the young couple gracing her front porch. “I can’t believe it. My boy, finally home for the holidays—and with my future daughter-in-law!”
Coco cleared her throat intently. “About that…”
Her efforts to rebut, though, were futile. Carol threw her arms around them both, squeezing them in tight together. “This is the best Christmas gift a mother could ask for.”
Finally, just as Graham felt himself about to lose circulation, Carol released the pair from her death grip. “Graham here hasn’t been home for the holidays in ages,” she said by way of explanation to Coco.
“It sure has changed around here,” Graham inserted, recalling the empty streets during their drive in.
Carol’s jolly exterior dimmed. “We’re not what we used to be, it’s true. Outsiders have by and large forgotten about our Mistletoe Grove. It’s a shame, too. Without our holiday visitors, a lot of the local businesses have been struggling.”
“That’s awful,” Coco offered.
Carol waved the matter away. “Let’s not kill the mood, though. What’s important is that you’re home and you’re happy and the three of us are going to have the perfect old-fashioned Christmas together.”
Graham smiled through gritted teeth. “Great.”
“Well, let’s not stand here freezing our hineys off,” Carol reset. “Grab your things and let’s get settled.”
Graham picked up their suitcases off the porch. “I was thinking Coco could take the spare room in the basement?”
A knowing grin spread on Carol’s lips. “Oh, don’t be shy, Graham. I’m a modern woman. You don’t think you have to sleep in separate beds on my account, do you?” She shook her head to herself. “I insist you two bunk in Graham’s old room. I’ve still got it just how you left it.”
Graham felt as if an anvil had just dropped inside his stomach. “Lovely.”
* * *
“Girlfriend, Graham? Really?” Coco flopped her suitcase down on the bed. “And you didn’t think that maybe this was something you should have run by me beforehand?”
Graham shut the door to his childhood bedroom behind them. “I didn’t think you’d want to go for it.”
“You’re damn right I don’t want to go for it! This was not part of the plan, Graham.” She unclasped her suitcase to unpack.
Graham fought to maintain composure. “None of this was planned, Coco!” I should be back in sunny LA right now, but instead, I’m stuck in this iced-over backwater playing babysitter to a grown adult because every time I blink, she’s causing a scene again.” He took a calming breath. “Look, it’s because of you that we’re here, so the least you can do is go along with this charade.”
A beat of silence followed as, chastened, Coco held her tongue. She sat down on the bed. “So, you’re not out to your mother, I presume?”
Graham released a groan. “I’m not out to anyone back home, Coco.”
She furrowed her brow, contemplating. “But you’re, like, a walking rainbow back in LA.”
“Well, let’s just say that, around here, my yuletide’s not exactly gay.”
Coco flashed a conspiratorial smile. “Looks like we’re both undercover here, then.”
Before Graham could respond, he found himself interrupted by the arrival of his mother in the doorway. “Hurry up, you two. I have got to take you down to the town square. You’re going to love Mistletoe Grove, Coco.”
Graham winced at the idea of parading his loose cannon of a client around in public. “I don’t know, Mom. We had an awful long flight. I was thinking that maybe we just stay in?”
She shrugged, accepting. “In that case, we still need to watch my favorite holiday movie. Who wants popcorn?”
“You know what, on second thought,” Graham hastily replied, “a trip to the town square sounds lovely.”
A satisfied grin spread across Carol’s face. “Splendid. Be ready in five!” She spirited away without ceremony.
Alone with Graham, Coco narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “She sure managed to change your mind fast.”
“I’m, uh, not a fan of Christmas movies,” Graham sputtered, averting his gaze.
Coco, however, appeared to see right through him. “Not a fan of her favorite Christmas movie, you mean.”
“Right,” he answered, matter-of-fact.
She propped her hands on her hips. “And that would be…”
“Not important,” he remarked, hoping to shut the conversation down.
“Come on,” Coco said, sidling up close to him. “If I’m going to play the part of your pretend girlfriend for the holidays, I need to get to know your family.”
“Not like this, you don’t.”
She gave a coy shrug. “I guess I’ll just have to ask her myself, then.”
Now she had Graham’s attention. “Fine, but I need you to know this changes nothing.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Her favorite holiday movie is the original, black-and-white Holiday With the Wholesomes.”
A hundred-watt grin lit up Coco’s face.
“Don’t get any ideas, though. You are on no uncertain terms to reveal anything whatsoever related to starring in the remake, are we clear?”
“But, Graham, it’s your mother’s favorite.”
“I don’t care if it’s Mother Teresa’s favorite. We’re here to keep our heads down so, come Christmas Day, we can get our butts back to LA with our careers still intact, and if we’re really lucky, maybe even our dignity, too.”
She seemed to shrink at Graham’s rebuttal.
“Now, listen to me close, because I’m only going to say this once. So long as we’re here, we are Graham and Coco, a nauseatingly straight, tragically unremarkable young couple without a whiff of homosexual tendencies or embattled Hollywood backstory, capeesh?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You must be a riot at parties, you know that?”
He continued, undeterred. “And furthermore, as your publicist in charge of orchestrating your triumphant comeback, I strictly and unconditionally forbid you while we’re here from engaging in any matters whatsoever including, but not limited to, scheming, plotting, trickery, conniving, or shenanigans.”
Coco touched her cheeks mockingly. “Not shenanigans!”
Graham narrowed his eyes at her. “Coco, I’m serious.”
“You worry too much, Graham.” She gave her hair a toss. “Trust me, something tells me that, this holiday season, we’re both about to get what’s coming to us.”
He raised his face heavenward as Coco made her way to the doorway. “That’s just what I’m afraid of.”
Coco chose to ignore the dig. “Come on, I want to see this town square your mom’s so excited about.”
He said a silent prayer. Here goes nothing.
TO BE CONTINUED
Christmas Under Wraps, Part 2
A Cozy M/M Small Town Holiday Romance
What have I gotten myself into? Graham mused to himself from the backseat of his mother’s Honda Pilot. Up front, Carol and Coco chattered like a couple of old girlfriends. Part of him was glad to see the pair getting along so well. The other part was more concerned about the myriad ways this could end up spelling disaster.
Had someone tried to tell him just twenty-four hours ago that he was about to be stuck in his childhood hometown for the holidays faking a relationship with the person who was single-handedly responsible for his premature gray hairs, he would have laughed them into next Tuesday.
And yet, here he was, doing precisely that.
Mr. Burns had some nerve, dangling this promotion before him like a carrot over a donkey’s nose. It was almost like he wanted to make an ass out of him.
Well, if that was what Mr. Burns thought of him, Graham mused, then that old blowhard had another thing coming. If he didn’t think Graham had what it took to earn this promotion, then Graham would just have to prove him wrong.
It wouldn’t be easy, Coco being the loose cannon she was. Keeping her under the radar and out of the celebrity tabloids until the premier of her new holiday movie Christmas Day would be no small feat.
If anyone could do it, though, Graham knew he could. After all, he hadn’t spent his entire career hustling just to let some Hollywood bimbo with a taste for tequila get in his way now—especially after all that he’d sacrificed along the way. His mind drifted back to his date with Derek the other night—just the latest exhibit in the series of disasters that comprised his failed love life on account of his career.
Still, in the grand scheme of things, it was a small price to pay. After all, he had far more important matters to focus on now. There’d be plenty of time to worry about love later.
Right?
He shook the thought away. Eyes on the prize, Graham, he reminded himself. A few days lying low back home, how hard could it be?
Then again, perhaps it was better not to tempt fate. He hadn’t exactly counted on Coco’s exuberant holiday spirit. For someone like her, Mistletoe Grove was practically Disneyland. He also hadn’t counted on her interest in his personal life—namely, his love life. What intrigue his relationship status—or rather, his lack thereof—held for Coco, he was at a loss to explain. But knowing her penchant for meddling, the implications were more than a little concerning.
Not only did he have zero interest in finding Mr. Right—or heck, even Mr. Right Now—here in sleepy Mistletoe Grove, but also they had appearances to keep up. If they were going to maintain this charade of being a happy, boring, and most importantly straight couple, he couldn’t afford the risk of Coco going rogue on him.
Especially now that she was getting chummy with his mother.
God, would her heart be broken when, come the New Year, Graham would inevitably have to tell her that he and Coco had split. Still, though, it was better than the alternative. At least this way he wouldn’t have to break it to her that her only son is in fact a card-carrying gay.
For now, the best thing to do, he decided, was to keep his cool, keep his focus, and most important of all, keep Coco Holliday under control.
The car came to a stop as his mother turned off the ignition. “We’re he-ere.”
The group unloaded from the vehicle.
“Graham!” his mother chided as she took stock of his light, bespoke jacket. “Is that all you brought to stay warm?” She reached back into the car. “At least put these on.”
The next thing Graham knew, he found himself holding a pair of bright wool mittens, happy motifs of Santa and Mrs. Claus hand-knit into each.
He grimaced at the abominations. “That’s OK, mom.”
Carol, however, was not about to take no for an answer. “Nonsense, Graham. This isn’t LA, you know. You need to keep warm.”
He sighed inwardly. “How very thoughtful.”
“I think they’re kinda cute,” Coco chimed in.
He put the mittens on, scowling. “Well, at least there’s coffee.” He eyed a small cafe a few storefronts down from their streetside parking spot. Posted above the door was a sign—hand-painted, of course—that read The Cozy Mug.
“Cocoa,” Carol said.
“Yes?” Coco asked.
Carol shook her head with a chuckle. “Sorry,” she responded. “Cocoa as in cocoa shop.”
Graham furrowed his brow as if his mother had just spoken Greek. “Cocoa shop? Well, if that isn’t the…who ever heard of a cocoa shop?”
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.” Carol replied. “The Cozy Mug is heavenly.”
Graham just rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll pass.” He shook his head to himself. “Only in Mistletoe Grove.”
The group turned to head for the square.
That is, until the appearance of a galloping force of nature around the corner.
Freezing in place, Graham braced himself for the impact of a hundred and fifty pounds of St. Bernard zeal currently bolting toward him at top speed.
“Gah!” he exclaimed as the dog sent him ass over teakettle onto the sidewalk.
The next thing he knew, he found himself showered—quite literally—with wet, slobbery kisses.
“Someone get this beast off of me!”
A frantic, middle-aged man appeared darting around the corner. “Oscar!” He pulled the canine off Graham. “I’m so sorry, Carol.”
Graham felt himself bristle. Sorry…Carol? He raised himself to his feet.
“Oh, no need to apologize,” Carol responded without missing a beat.
Speak for yourself, Graham wanted to add. He stifled a groan as he watched his mother kneel to the dog and rub its cheeks lovingly.
“We should have known not to be standing right in your way, isn’t that right?” She planted a kiss on the giant oaf’s forehead.
Oh, brother.
The man took hold of the dog’s leash off the sidewalk. “Thanks, Carol. You know how Oscar gets when he sees a squirrel.”
The two shared a laugh, although Graham failed to see the humor in the situation.
“I’m so glad we ran into you,” Carol said to the newcomer. “I’ve got some folks I’d love for you to meet.” She gestured to Graham and Coco. “This is my son, Graham, and this is his lovely girlfriend, Coco.” She turned to the pair. “Kids, this is Mayor Pickering.”
The extra enthusiasm with which she spoke the mayor’s name was not lost on the two out-of-towners.
“Pleased to meet you,” the mayor greeted. He then put a finger to his nose. “You know what, I think I remember you, son.”
Great, Graham thought to himself. Just what he needed—getting chummy with the local yokels.
The mayor snapped his fingers. “By Jiminy, I do remember you. You’re that little tyke who was always beading those eyeglass chains Mrs. Dunwoody down at the library loved so much.”
Coco stifled a chuckle. “Custom-beaded eyeglass chains for the local librarian?”
Graham, however, paid the comment no mind. “You know, it’s been so long, Mayor. I really can’t recall—”
“And you, my dear.” The Mayor took Coco’s hands gently. “I must say you look a might familiar, as well.” He squinted as if to focus. “I don’t suppose I’d know you from somewhere?”
Coco blushed demurely. “Well, as a matter of fact—”
“She gets that a lot,” Graham cut off, the edge in his voice sharpening. “I guess you just have one of those faces. Don’t you, darling?” He gave her cheek a pinch.
She rubbed the spot sorely. “Apparently.”
The Mayor simply turned back to Carol. “Carol, I’ve been meaning to ask. I trust you’ll be regaling us with your annual holiday party again this year, yes? You know how much I look forward to it.”
“Have your Christmas sweater ready, Mayor,” Carol replied with a smile.
The Mayor practically glowed. “I’ll be counting down the minutes!” He flashed Carol a smile. “All right, Oscar. Now for the love of Pete, can we try just once letting the squirrels live in peace?” The pair perambulated off down the sidewalk.
A wry grin curled on Coco’s face then. “Seems to me that the Mayor’s rather fond of you, Carol.”
Graham shot her a warning glare.
The suggestion turned Carol’s cheeks crimson. “Mayor Pickering? Oh, he’s like that with everyone.” She brushed the subject away. “Come on, let me show you the square. The decorations they’re putting up are a scream.”
Almost as if on cue, there came a frantic yelp through the air.
All eyes in the group shot to the source of the sound. A collective gasp swept through them as they registered the sight up ahead.
High above the town square, teetering atop a ladder propped precariously against a giant evergreen tree, was a young man—putting up Christmas lights, by the looks of it—clinging to the topmost branch as if his very life depended on it.
Which, judging by the thud that sounded the next moment as his seesawing ladder fell out from under him onto the ground—leaving him dangling helplessly from the tree’s highest boughs—it very much well might have.
“Graham, go help him before he falls!”
But it was too late. No sooner had the words left Carol’s mouth that the man appeared to lose his grip on the tree.
Coco released a screen.
The whole group prepared to witness a disaster.
Which surely would have occurred, had it not been for the string of Christmas lights that had just so happened to be accidentally tangled around the man’s ankle.
Flailing like a madman, the hapless victim spiraled his way down the length of the tree, unwrapping the string of lights branch by branch as he went.
“Ooh! Ouch! Fuck! Damnit!” the man called out at the impact of each branch along his twirling, dizzying descent.
His group of onlookers winced at the dumbfounding sight.
Finally, with one last painful thud, the man landed in the snow—a tangled rat’s nest of Christmas lights, but at least he was still in one piece.
“Go check on him, Graham!”
He rushed over to the man’s aid. “Hey, you OK, pal?” He helped the man to his feet.
“I will be, if I can just get out of this giant knot of Christmas lights.” He tugged, to no avail, at his binds.
“Here, let me help.” Graham got to work endeavoring to free the man. “OK, I need you to turn your head this way, twist your arm that way—”
“Owww!”
Graham winced meekly. “Sorry.” He continued to pull at the string of lights. “This is not what I bargained for in coming home.”
The man began working at the tangled mess himself. “Wait, you’re from Mistletoe Grove?
The question drew a sigh from Graham. “Guilty as charged.” He unwrapped a section of lights that had somehow gotten looped around himself.
“No way. Me, too,” the man replied, a bit too cheerfully for Graham’s liking.
“Congratulations.” Graham furrowed his brow in concentration. Was it just him, or were these lights in fact getting more tangled?
“Yeah, man. What brings you back?”
“The lovely, tropical weather,” Graham deadpanned, now confident this knot was indeed getting worse.
The man laughed to himself. “Tropical weather. What a riot.”
Graham gave him an unseen eye roll. “You’ve really got yourself stuck in here, you know that?” He made another pull at the strands, and suddenly came to a stomach-churning realization. “Correction. We’ve got ourselves stuck in here.”
Back to back, the pair stood against each other, wound up tight in a tangled mess of string lights.
An audible groan sounded from Graham. “And here I thought getting thrown in lockers was humiliating.”
Behind him, the stranger perked up at the remark. “Wait, like in high school?”
Graham released a sigh. He and his big, fat mouth. “Forget I said that.”
Apparently, there’d be no putting this cat back in the bag, though. “I went to school with someone like that. Skinny, kinda nerdy…”
Graham felt his stomach start to sour. This was sounding just a little too familiar.
“’Course, I never did it to the poor kid, but my guys on the team, though…”
Please be wrong. Please be wrong.
“I felt awful sorry for him. I even helped the guy get himself back out a few times.
Fuck.
“Say, your name wouldn’t be—”
“Oh, my god, you’re—”
Their next words came out simultaneously.
“Graham?!”
“Brent?!”
Well, this was a fine kettle of fish.
“Oh, man,” Brent went on, “what are the odds?”
Not small enough, apparently, Graham thought to himself.
Before he could respond, though, the pair found themselves joined by Coco and Carol.
“Oh, no. Look at this mess!”
You can say that again, replied a voice inside Graham’s head.
“Here, let me help.” Coco set to work untangling the men—and in doing so, leaving precious little space between their new companion and herself. “Gee, that was awful brave of you, being so high up on that ladder.”
“Stupid is more like it, the way things turned out.” He did the best he could while still strung up like a Christmas dinner goose to inch back from Coco’s advances.
Still, she persisted as she continued her untangling. “I bet you have to be real strong to put up all these lights.”
His face twisted into a grimace. “And equally clumsy to tear them all back down.”
Graham decided to intervene. “Coco, can you please just untangle us.”
She shrugged, feigning offense. “Sheesh. I was just trying to make conversation.”
Finally, after a few more painful minutes of what had begun to feel like playing a pro-level version of the human knot game, the pair of men were finally free.
“Thanks,” Brent replied, brushing himself off. “Not exactly what I’d call my preferred way of being tied up.”
Graham shot him an inscrutable glance. It seemed, however, to go unnoticed.
“Brent Danvers,” Carol reprimanded, “what were you thinking, climbing up that high without help?” Don’t you know you could’ve gotten yourself killed?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Carol,” he offered, much to her chagrin.
Graham did a double take. “Wait, you two know each other?”
“Of course,” Carol replied like it should have been obvious. “This is Mistletoe Grove, after all.”
Graham responded with an eye roll. “How could I forget?”
“What a coincidence,” Brent chimed in. He turned to face Carol. “All this time, you were Graham Bartlett’s mother, and I never put two and two together.”
The remark lit up Carol with a glow. “Oh? Were you two pals back in school?”
“Not exactly,” Graham inserted, avoiding Brent’s eyes.
A look of confusion registered on Carol’s face.
Brent offered her a shrug. “Oh, you know how it is here. We all know each other, right?”
“Well, we don’t know each other,” Coco butted in. She twirled her hair demurely.
Brent narrowed his eyes, concentrating. “Are you sure? I could almost swear something about you looks familiar.”
“Aww, you’re a sweetheart,” she replied. “Don’t you know, I’m—”
“My girlfriend!” blurted Graham.
A stunned look came over Brent. “Your…what?!”
“My girlfriend,” Graham repeated, trying to play it cool. “You must have seen her on my social media or something.” He watched their new companion’s face closely to see if he was buying it.
Brent furrowed his brow as he pinned Graham with a gaze. “Huh, you know, I guess I just always thought you were…” He stopped himself short, as if deciding he ought not to say his next words out loud. “Lovely to meet you, Coco.”
A coquettish smile curled on Coco’s lips. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Brent cleared his throat as if to change the subject. He lifted his gaze up at the barren tree before them. “Well, take two, I guess.” He picked up one end of the Christmas lights.
“Don’t even think about it, buster,” Carol forbade. “You already nearly got yourself killed once today.”
“Come on, Carol,” Brent rebutted, “you know I’ve got to get these lights up.”
“Not without someone to help you this time, you’re not.”
“Who am I supposed to get to help me on such short notice?”
Graham could practically feel his mother’s eyes zero in on him. He said a silent prayer.
“Graham would be happy to help you!”
So much for divine intervention.
“Mom, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
She fixed her son with a look. “And just why not?”
He stammered to come up with a response. “I really ought to be spending time with Coco.” He looked to her for backup.
His mother, however, had other ideas. “Oh, nonsense. I can keep Coco company, sweetheart. You boys deserve a chance to catch up. Besides, it’ll give us girls a chance to get to know each other.” She pinned her gaze on Coco. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
Before Coco could respond, though, Graham took it upon himself to intervene. “Coco, a word, if you please?” He escorted themselves out of hearing distance from the group.
Checking over his shoulder, he decided he’d put a sufficient buffer between themselves and the others. “I need you to back me up here, Coco.”
The apathy in her eyes, though, could not have been clearer. “Hey, you’re the one who cooked up this charade. Don’t come crying to me, pal.”
He wiped his face with his palm. “Yes, but let’s not forget whose antics are the reason I had to cook it up in the first place.” He flicked a glance over to the group to make sure no one could hear. “We’re in this mess together, Coco.”
The remark merely earned him a shrug. “Relax, would you? Besides, if you really want to be convincing, I think it’s a good idea that I spend some quality time with your mom. You know, play the part.”
Graham suppressed a snort. “Me leave you and my mother alone unsupervised? Yeah, what could go wrong?”
“Oh, Graham, don’t be such a worry wart. I am an actress, after all, darling.” She batted her eyes demurely.
The eye roll that followed from Graham was considerably less demure.
“Besides,” Coco continued, a mischievous note in her voice, “it looks like you and Brent have some serious catching up to do.” She nudged Graham with her elbow.
Which sent his blood pressure spiking. “Don’t be ridiculous, Coco. Brent was like the coolest jock in high school. Total Mr. Popular.” His shoulders slumped slightly then. “Meanwhile, I was just a…well, a…let’s just say I wasn’t exactly on Brent’s radar.”
“Which is exactly why this is just the opportunity to make up for lost time!”
“I don’t think so, Coco. We’re here to lie low, not get tangled up—literally or figuratively, mind you—in romantic trysts.” He furrowed his brow as if in contemplation. “And that’s not even counting the fact that, come Christmas Day, you and I will be on a seven-forty-seven back to LA.”
“Sure,” Coco conceded, an unmistakable slyness in her tone. “But for the meantime, what’s so wrong with letting yourself have a little holiday fun?”
Graham groaned audibly. “Because it’s just a fantasy, Coco. Just like this whole season of fake joy and pretend goodwill.”
She returned a sarcastic huff. “And to think people say it was the Grinch who stole Christmas.”
A beat of quiet followed as Graham, chastened, fell silent. “Look, I don’t expect someone like you to understand this, Coco, but the holidays just aren’t always picture-perfect for normal folks like me. And even if there was such a thing as Christmas magic, there’s not enough of it in the world to give me a shot at a guy like Brent.”
Coco gaped at him, dumbfounded. “Look, I don’t care how cool this guy was back when you were a horny teenager, Graham. You and I both know you’re objectively a catch—even if you are wound tighter than those pants you like to wear to my publicity events.”
“Hey! It’s called dressing for success, I’ll have you know.” His face fell then. “But that’s not what I mean by not having a chance with Brent. What I mean is, a gay guy in Mistletoe Grove? Now that, my friend, is a fantasy. Frankly, I’d be less surprised to find out Brent’s secretly the Easter Bunny than to discover he’s, well, light in the loafers.”
“I don’t know about that,” Coco countered. “I did try to flirt with him, after all, and if he wasn’t interested in this”—she gestured to her figure.
Graham rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Coco, just because a man doesn’t find you—”
“My point is,” she cut off before he could go on, “I think our boy Brent may have had his eyes on something else. On someone else.” She wiggled her brows impishly.
Graham screwed up his face in disbelief. “Don’t be absurd, Coco.”
“Only time will tell.” She gave him a jovial punch on the arm. “Just loosen up, will you? Feel the holiday spirit.” With that, she took her leave.
Looking on, Graham watched morosely as she rejoined the group. “Good talk.” His words, of course, went unheard. Swallowing a gulp, he steeled himself for whatever antics awaited Coco and his mother.
That, and the reunion by way of forced-labor tree-trimming awaiting himself with a man who at one point in time had made Graham’s heart melt like a snowman in July.
And maybe, if Graham was being honest, could still make it melt today.
* * *
Back in LA, there were myriad reasons why Graham chose leasing a condo over homeownership—not the least of which being the lack of manual labor it entailed. So it was no small wonder, then, why climbing up a three-story-tall extension ladder did not rank high on his list of preferred activities.
That being said, standing at the base of just about the tallest spruce in New England, it was with increasing sincerity that he was now evaluating the merits of muttering a few Hail Marys for good measure.
Before he could contemplate further, though, a firm pat on the back pulled him from his thoughts. “Hey, thanks again for offering to help. I don’t know how I’d get this done before dusk without you.”
Graham turned to face Brent beside him. Up close, it was clear—time had certainly not been cruel to this one. He swallowed down a gulp. “Don’t mention it.” Focus, Graham, he reminded himself. You’re here to do a job, not go catching feelings. “Can’t have you popping another boner, now can we?”
Brent did a double take. “Excuse me?”
Crimson flashed on Graham’s cheeks then as he realized his faux pas. “Pulling another boner. You know, like an accident.”
Brent narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “I see.”
Resetting, Graham cleared his throat, businesslike. “Where do you want me?”
A sly grin appeared on Brent’s face. “Really, Graham? Out here?”
The remark drew an eye roll from Graham. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”
Brent responded with a good-natured shrug. “I do. Here, you steady the ladder. I’ll climb up. I don’t mind being on top.”
Something about the way he punctuated that last part made Graham, if only for a split second, go weak in the knees. He decided not to read anything into it.
And thus, without further ado, the pair of men set to task.
Brent worked competently, Graham observed, his skilled hands seeming to sense by instinct where each length of the lights should be hung. It was almost as if the guy knew firsthand about length and being hung, Graham mused.
He shook the thought away. Graham, what are you thinking, you blockhead? This is your old high school classmate, man.
Your classmate who was also a varsity athlete and the sole reason you ever even thought about attending a high school sporting event, added a little voice inside his head.
Again, he suppressed the thought. So what if Brent had been major heartthrob material back in high school? Clearly, that had been his peak. The guy was still living in their hometown, for Christ’s sake.
Then again, that was only half-true, Graham realized. Sure, Brent may not have ever left Mistletoe Grove, but he certainly was not past his peak. Frankly, the guy was looking better than ever.
He still wore the same, wavy chestnut hair Graham remembered, but today, he accompanied it with a thick, well-trimmed beard that somehow managed only to accentuate his square, razor-sharp jawline. And clearly, despite no longer reigning as the star of the high school basketball team, he certainly hadn’t been slacking on his gym routine. Beneath his fleece-lined flannel, the contours of thick arm and chest muscles flexing showed through, evidence of a toned, powerful physique underneath.
But the part about Brent that captivated Graham the most, the thing he’d always remembered vividly, were the pools of deep, dark mahogany that sparkled in his eyes. Eyes like those could make Graham get lost and never want to be found.
“Hey, do I look straight to you?”
The sound of Brent’s voice pulled Graham back to the present. “Uh, what?”
“I said, do I look straight to you?”
The hue that had begun to color Graham’s cheeks subsided as he realized his companion, up on the ladder above, was pointing to a swag of lights he’d just hung. “Oh, yeah. All straight here.”
Now there were some words he never thought he’d hear himself say.
A hint of a smirk appeared then on Brent’s lips. “Noted.”
Graham felt his cheeks flush. If it hadn’t been clear from the start, it certainly was now. This tree-trimming nonsense was bound to end in disaster.
Why had he let his mother steamroll him into this? He was a grown man now, wasn’t he, not some pushover high schooler still stuck taking orders.
On second thought, he realized, maybe not as much had changed as he thought. Maybe it wasn’t his mother in charge any more, but when he paused to think about it, he did often feel stuck taking orders still.
The only difference was that now they came from a washed-up movie star with a talent for creating chaos.
He wondered what those two were up to now. Had it been up to him, Coco wouldn’t have been let out of his sight during their stay, but clearly, she and his mother had other plans in store. He felt his stomach squirm. The trouble those two could get into unsupervised, he shuddered to think. Coco on her own was capable of turning this into a mess, but joining forces with his mother—an agent provocateur in her own right—Graham knew it could spell disaster.
There was nothing he could do about it now, though—not so long as he was stuck playing assistant to the local one-man town decorating crew.
Not that Brent was the worst person to be stuck working under. If there was anyone who was going to make Graham their bitch…
Stop it, Graham, he reprimanded himself. God willing, Coco was currently holding up her end of this masquerade by taking in some quality time with her fake future mother-in-law. The least he could do was play his own part in this harebrained charade.
That, however, would be easier said than done now thanks to Mr. Holiday Heartthrob.
He searched his brain for solutions. A moment later, it hit him. Small talk. That was what they needed. Something to distract him. Something to keep his mind—and eyes—from wandering places they definitely shouldn’t go.
“It’s funny, Mistletoe Grove is practically just like I remember it.” He threaded his companion an additional length of string lights.
A silence hung between them as Brent paused to debate his response. “You think?” He seemed to go absent as he tucked the additional lights into the tree.
“Sure,” Graham responded with a shrug. “Same shops, same townies, same nutty mayor…” He shook his head to himself.
“I suppose you’re right. Sometimes it just feels like it’s lost some of the magic it had when we were younger.”
Graham fought not to groan. What was it with everyone and their Christmas-magic-this and their holiday-spirit-that? “What do you mean?”
Up on the ladder, Brent rotated to make eye contact. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“Noticed what?”
“All of…this.” He gestured broadly to their largely vacant surrounds.
A sullen look came over Graham’s face. “I suppose it is a bit…quieter.”
“Exactly!” The words came out with such fervor that Brent nearly lost his balance on the ladder. “Mistletoe Grove used to be brimming with visitors for the holidays. Now”—he cast a forlorn gaze out at the empty square—“we’re all that’s left.”
Graham would have been lying then if he’d said that, despite his disdain for the Christmas industrial complex, there wasn’t a part of him that felt sympathy for his counterpart. After all, he’d noticed it himself upon arriving in Mistletoe Grove—the crowds just weren’t what they used to be.
He searched for the right words to say. “Why do you think that is? I mean, why do you think that everything that made this town special went and dried up?”
He certainly didn’t have to wait long for a response. “Mistletoe Grove is still as special as ever.” The statement came out with surprising conviction. “What’s changed is that the outside world stopped seeing it.”
Graham nodded silently, as if, perhaps in another life, he could have almost believed the words Brent had just spoken.
Almost.
Brent stifled a scoff then, as if suddenly becoming self-conscious. “But what do I know, right?” He busied himself with stuffing more lights into the tree.
Graham heaved a heavy sigh. So much for small talk. A heart-to-heart with his estranged high school crush was not what he’d signed up for this afternoon. Still, he did feel sorry for the guy. Mistletoe Grove was all Brent had ever known. Of course he was going to feel attached to it.
“Listen,” he said, breaking the silence, “maybe the holidays in Mistletoe Grove aren’t what they used to be. It isn’t your fault, though. People just don’t want an old-fashioned Christmas anymore.”
This time, Brent’s scoff came loud and clear. “Ain’t that the truth. All anyone wants from the holidays now is pre-fab glitz and glam.” His whole body seemed to dim. “The fact of the matter is, we’re just not relevant anymore.”
A heavy silence hung in the air then as Graham debated what to say.
It was Brent, however, who spoke up first. “Let people have their cheap, plastic holiday, though. Us locals aren’t going anywhere. Folks like your mom and me, we intend to stick it out. And so long as there are some people who believe, then there’s still hope yet for Mistletoe Grove.”
Graham merely stood tongue-tied. Certainly, Brent’s devotion was admirable, but if you asked him, it was seriously misguided. Sure, the truth was no Hallmark greeting card, but the fact of the matter was, Mistletoe Grove’s glory days were over. It was literally Graham’s job to know what the public wanted, and when it came to Christmas, gone were the days of neighborly caroling and hand-making sweets. What today’s consumers wanted from the holidays was a big, bold, razzle dazzle spectacular. And with competition like that, Mistletoe Grove didn’t stand a chance.
The sad reality was, the world had moved on. And their forgotten little New England Christmas village had been left behind in the dust.
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you.”
The sound of Brent’s voice snapped Graham out of his daze. “Offend me?” He offered another length of string lights to his counterpart up on the ladder.
“I mean, maybe you like all that fancy, fandangled fuss of a modern Christmas holiday.” He climbed a few steps higher on the ladder to continue his stringing.
Graham shook his head, grimacing. “Oh, no. You don’t have to worry about that with me. Personally, I’d rather avoid the whole season.”
All of a sudden, Brent’s jaw dropped as if he’d just heard blasphemy. “Not celebrate Christmas? What would make you say something like that?”
A hushed curse escaped under Graham’s breath. Here in Mistletoe Grove, not liking Christmas practically was blasphemy. “Eh, forget about it.”
Brent, however, was not about to let Graham off the hook that easily. “No, tell me. What could you possibly have against Christmas?”
Graham groaned audibly. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. He might as well indulge his companion. “This whole song and dance about holiday cheer, it’s just a scam, Brent. Christmas is nothing but more stress, more pressure, and more demands—and that applies both here in Mistletoe Grove and back in LA.”
“LA?” Brent asked. “Is that where you live now?”
“Sure is.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but life in the city sure has given you a bleak outlook.”
Graham just shrugged indifferently. “I prefer to call it being a realist.”
Brent climbed a few rungs higher to reach the top of the tree. “Well, give it time. Perhaps some R-and-R back home will be good for you. Maybe we can even change your mind about Christmas.”
A loud snort escaped Graham at the suggestion. “Good luck.”
Up on the ladder, Brent brushed his hands together. “All right, that’s it. Done.” He returned to the ground. “And this time, without risking a trip to the ER even. How about that?”
Graham did his best to stifle the chuckle he felt. “I take it you want to light it up now?”
“Oh, no. Not yet. That’ll happen during the tree-lighting ceremony, on Christmas Eve. You and Coco should come.”
Graham furrowed his brow at the suggestion. “I don’t know about that.” With Coco around, any public event was a PR disaster in the making.
Brent shrugged acceptingly. “Just think about it. For the meantime, though, I owe you for all your help.”
Graham responded by waving dismissively. “Nah, you don’t need to—”
“I know I don’t need to. I want to—”
The remark stunned Graham into silence.
“You free this evening?”
“I, well, uh—”
“What would you say to a dinner? On me.”
Inside, Graham’s heart began to beat double-time. “Oh, I’m not dressed for dinner.”
A scheming glint lit up in Brent’s eyes. “Don’t worry. Where we’re going, you won’t need to worry about your clothes.”
Graham felt his heart lodge itself into his throat. Don’t need to worry about clothes?
* * *
The gravel of the parking lot crunched beneath the tires as Brent’s used Ford F-150 rolled to a stop. From the passenger seat, Graham peered into the dusk at their destination.
He felt his stomach bottom out at the sight he beheld. “You have got to be kidding me.”
With a flick, Brent turned off the ignition. “Come on, you remember ol’ Salty Sally’s.”
Graham sized up the hole-in-the-wall dive bar ahead. So this was what Brent had meant about not worrying about their attire.
Well, at least it wasn’t what he had thought Brent had been implying.
Although, truth be told, he wasn’t sure whether that made him relieved or disappointed.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t remember Salty Sally’s.”
Disbelief registered on Brent’s face. “Don’t remember Sally’s? Wasn’t this where all of us snuck beer back in high school.”
“Maybe your crowd.”
“Oh? I wasn’t aware there was anyplace else around that didn’t check IDs back then.”
“There wasn’t.”
“Realization dawned on Brent’s face then. “Oh, so you never…really? Not once?”
“I know that must come as a shock, me being the party animal I was back in high school.”
Brent rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I do seem to recall you generally having your nose stuck in a book.”
The comment drew an eye roll. “Well, we couldn’t all be the most popular jock at Mistletoe High.”
Brent suppressed a chuckle. “Come on, let’s go inside. Trust me, ol’ Salty Sally’s is unforgettable.”
Heaving a sigh, Graham eyed Brent stepping out of the truck. “Somehow, I believe that.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Christmas Under Wraps, Part 3
A Cozy M/M Small Town Holiday Romance
Graham resisted the urge to pinch himself as he followed Brent up to Salty Sally’s. Geez, had this day been a whirlwind. Not eight hours in Mistletoe Grove, and already this trip had turned sideways.
Not in the worst way, granted. Never would he have thought that, after all these years, who would he run into back home but Brent Danvers, a.k.a. the guy whose looks back in high school Graham blamed for turning him gay.
The guy whose looks today made Graham thankful the habit had stuck.
Which, frankly, could not have surprised him more. Brent was hardly Graham’s typical type—high-performer, ladder-climber, mover and shaker. On the contrary, Brent’s calling had turned out being the simple life. Graham supposed it made sense. Being the all-star jock that he was back in high school, Brent had had it made in Mistletoe Grove. Meanwhile, nerdy, bookish Graham couldn’t have gotten out fast enough.
Further complicating their differences was the apparent infatuation with Christmas Brent had. It was like the guy had stepped out of a Hallmark movie. Even the way they’d stumbled into each other that afternoon—getting tangled up in a string of holiday lights—was like something that belonged on TV. How a self-professed Christmas cynic such as himself could lose his cool over a holiday fanatic like Brent, Graham was at a loss to explain.
All that was to say, this chance reunion—and the renewed spark it had ignited—were most certainly not on Graham’s Bingo card for this trip.
A feeling of dread began to well up in his chest. This could prove to be problematic. After all, he was here to do a job—keeping Coco Holliday undercover and out of the tabloids to, god willing, stave off another PR scandal leading up to her comeback movie premiere Christmas Day. And with a loose cannon like Coco, keeping their presence here under wraps was a full-time job.
Remember, Graham, said a voice inside his head, pull this off, and the promotion of your dreams could be all yours.
But, come on, how was he supposed to say no to a dreamboat like Brent? It was just dinner, after all. Besides, Brent probably wasn’t even gay, he reminded himself. This was simply two dudes grabbing a bite after a long afternoon of manual labor.
The sight of Sally’s windowless, graffiti-covered front door approaching reaffirmed the notion. No, a dive like this was no place you took a date, much less anyone you didn’t want to send home with food poisoning by the end of the night.
Bracing himself, Graham followed Brent inside.
* * *
No sooner had the two men entered the honky-tonk than Graham realized the scale of his mistake in coming here. Salty Sally’s was a bona fide time capsule—and not in a good way.
Despite the fact that Massachusetts had banned smoking in bars more than two decades ago, somehow, a leftover haze still hung in the air. Add to that the dim, low-hanging lighting—a term that, in Graham’s opinion, was a gross misnomer given the negligible glow they produced—and it was nearly impossible to see anything.
Although, as his eyes adjusted, Graham managed to make out more detail—and quickly decided he much preferred when his sight had still been hindered. Under the shadows, Salty Sally’s was furnished in dingy, green wall-to-wall carpeting, dark wood paneling straight out of the ’70s, and enough sticky countertops to give Martha Stewart an aneurism.
“Ain’t she something?” Brent asked, beaming.
“Oh, she’s something,” Graham replied with a grimace.
Brent clapped him with a hearty pat on the back. “I knew you’d like this place. Why don’t you go grab a table. I’ll order us some drinks at the bar.”
The next thing Graham knew, he was eyeing Brent’s backside on his way to visit the bartender.
Not that it was a bad view, granted.
Seating himself at the nearest table, he shook the thought away. Keep it together, Bartlett. You cannot be crushing on that guy. That’s, like, high school shit, man. Besides, in no time at all, you’ll be back in LA. And besides again, Brent’s probably not even gay. So quit losing your head. This is a casual dinner with a casual friend for some casual fun.
He felt the color drain from his face. No, not casual fun. That wasn’t what he meant. It wasn’t! Just a slip of the tongue—brain! That was it. He didn’t actually want to get in Brent’s pants, and likewise have Brent in his own. He was past that—long past it.
Right?
He pulled at his collar. Had it gotten hotter in here? It was then that he realized he still had on his outerwear—including those ridiculous holiday mittens from his mother. He removed them and set them on the table.
God, why had he agreed to come to this place? And with such a dreamboat like Brent, no less. The number of nights he’d lain awake in bed back in the day thinking about Mistletoe High’s most droolworthy jock, he didn’t even know how to count. And now, grabbing dinner with him, he was undeniably playing with fire.
But, man, was this fire hot.
Cool it, Graham, he reprimanded himself, sneaking another glance at Brent at the bar. What you need is a distraction. He took stock of his surrounds, settling on a TV mounted in the corner—also, unsurprisingly, a relic from the past.
Got a mouse in your house? Some bees in your trees? Fear not, humble homeowner, ’cause Pete’s Pest Control is on the case.
Graham couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Geez, was ol’ Pete really still around? He remembered this same god-awful commercial from when he was a kid.
His attention snapped back to reality, though, as Brent joined him then at the table. “Bartender will be over with our drinks in a minute.” His eyes zeroed in on Graham’s mittens sitting on the table. “Nice mitts.”
Graham balked at the comment. “Compliments of my mother.”
Brent cracked a wry grin. “That tracks.” He settled into his seat. “So, tell me, what’s Graham Bartlett up to these days out in LA?”
Graham shrugged, nonchalant. “Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that, that’s about it.” Getting too familiar with Brent could only make things worse. “What about you? What has Mistletoe High’s most popular guy been up to since graduation?”
The arrival of the bartender, a pair of beers in-hand, however, cut off Brent’s reply.
“Oh, shoot,” said Graham. “I’m really more of a martini guy—extra dry, if you please. And if you happen to have any olives stuffed with blue cheese…”
The bartender just leveled him with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look.
“On second thought, I’ll just have coffee.”
“Hang tight.”
And with that, the bartender shuffled off.
Graham offered Brent a self-conscious grin. “I’ve actually been dying for a decent cup of coffee all day. There’s this place on the square—The Cozy Mug, I think it was—where I thought I was going to get one earlier, but apparently all they serve is hot cocoa. Would you believe something as crazy as that?”
Brent finished off his first sip of beer. “As a matter of fact, I would.” A knowing smirk appeared on his face as he sat his glass down on the table.
Graham felt as if a brick had just landed in his stomach as realization dawned on him. “Wait, you’re not…”
“Guilty as charged.” Brent downed another swig of beer. “You’re looking at the proud owner of Mistletoe Grove’s premier purveyor of fine hot cocoa.”
Graham’s cheeks flashed crimson. “Aw, man. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He cracked a grin that sent a thrill into Graham’s chest. “You should come in sometime. First cup is on me.”
Graham averted his eyes to avoid losing himself in Brent’s smile. “I’ll, uh, think about it.”
Brent shrugged, accepting. “Speaking of cocoa, how long have you and your girlfriend Coco been together?”
“Too long,” Graham retorted under his breath.
“Sorry, what was that?”
Graham stammered as he realized he’d said the words out loud. “What is time when you’re in love, right?”
Brent stroked his chin, thinking. “Say, are you sure I wouldn’t know her from somewhere? I can’t put my finger on it, but I swear something about her looks familiar.”
No sooner had Brent uttered the words than a news segment flashed on the TV screen in the corner.
Graham could have sworn in that moment he felt his jaw hit the floor.
“Now for the latest in entertainment news. Trending on social, it appears that one famous celebrity, or perhaps as of late, one infamous celebrity, has made Santa’s naughty list. Fallen-from-grace movie star Coco Holliday, who’s made quite a name for herself among Hollywood tabloid readers, was seen just the other night crashing a Los Angeles holiday toy drive in a humiliating, intoxicated stupor. Take a look at the footage.”
The segment continued with a shaky smartphone video of Coco tumbling drunkenly into a stack of donated toys.
“That’s where I know her from!”
Graham wished he could have disappeared under the table then.
“Dude…you’re dating Coco Holliday?”
“Keep it down, would you?!”
Confusion clouded over Brent’s face. “What did I say?”
“Well, in case it wasn’t clear by that news story, Coco isn’t exactly Tinseltown’s golden child.”
“Sure, but still—”
“That, and we’d really rather just keep things low-key.” He punctuated the statement firmly. “Just like everyone else here in Mistletoe Grove.” His eyes locked with Brent’s intently.
His gravity, though, was apparently lost on his companion. “Well, I’ve got news for you, pal. ’Cause Coco Holliday is nothing like folks here in Mistletoe Grove.”
An exasperated sigh escaped Graham. “Don’t I know it.”
Brent’s lips curled with bemusement. “Wow, who’d have thought. Nerdy Graham Bartlett dating a movie star.”
Graham stole a glance around the bar to see if anyone else had noticed the segment. Thankfully, it appeared the coast was clear. “How about you? Anyone special in your life?”
“Oh, there used to be someone. Wasn’t meant to be. Frankly, I’m over him.”
Had Graham had his coffee then, he knew for a fact he would have spit it out instantly. “Over…him?”
A hardness came over Brent then. “Yes, you got a problem with that or something?”
Shit. Code red, code red. “No, not at all. I just never would have expected that the most popular jock at Mistletoe High would turn out to be…”
“Surprise,” Brent offered with a shrug.
Graham sat back as the revelation sunk in. “Why stick around then? Mistletoe Grove isn’t exactly a gay mecca.”
“True,” Brent conceded, “but don’t underestimate this place. Mistletoe Grove has a lot to offer. Trust me, there’s more around here than meets the eye.”
For a brief moment, time seemed to stop as Graham lost himself in Brent’s gaze.
The ringing of his cellphone, though, promptly broke the spell. He pulled the device from his pocket. “Sorry,” he offered with a groan. “It’s work. Mind if I take this?”
“Work?” Brent balked in disbelief. “At this time of night?”
“No rest for the weary.” He excused himself from the table.
Stepping outside, Graham couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Not forty-eight hours ago, he’d been mid-date with another dreamboat when a similarly unwelcome work call had derailed the evening. Now, it was feeling like the same episode all over again.
He shook his head to himself. Wait. No, it wasn’t. Because this wasn’t a date. Damn it, Graham. Get your head on straight. Just because Brent, the heartthrob you spent your entire high school career crushing on, is gay, it still doesn’t change things. You’re here to do a job, Bartlett. And once you pull this off, it’ll all be worth it. That corner office is yours for the taking. You’ve just got to keep your eyes on the prize.
Drawing a deep breath, he answered his phone. “What is it, Orlando?”
The voice of his assistant crackled across the line. “How’s everything going?”
Graham groaned audibly. “Is this what you called me for in the middle of the evening? A status update?”
The fret in Orlando’s reply was unmistakable. “It’s just that, Mr. Burns, he’s real worked up, Graham. Asking me every hour on the hour if I’ve heard anything from you.”
Graham exhaled evenly. “Everything is under control, Orlando.”
“I sure hope so. You should see Mr. Burns. I don’t think he’s ever been so worked up as he is over keeping Coco’s studio happy.”
Graham shook his head to himself. “Somehow, I can imagine.”
“All I can say is, I hope you know what you’re doing, Graham. ’Cause you are not going to want to mess this one up.”
“Duly noted.”
A beat of silence fell over the line. “But really, Graham. You doing OK?”
Graham paused to think before answering the question. “I could do without all the sugary Christmas cheer around here frankly, but somehow I think I’ll survive.”
A chuckle followed then from Orlando. “You mean to tell me that a town called Mistletoe Grove likes Christmas? Shocking.”
“I’m not kidding, Orlando. This place is like a holiday-palooza. It’s sickening—and not like RuPaul sickening, either.”
Another chuckle ensued. “Come on, Mistletoe Grove can’t really be all bad. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll find something—or someone—to your liking.”
Graham scoffed at the remark. “Have you been talking to Coco?”
“No…why?” A gasp of realization followed. “Oh, my gosh. There is someone.”
“There most certainly is not,” Graham denied, if perhaps a bit too hastily. “I’m here to do a job, remember?”
“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy some hospitality while you’re there.”
“Hard pass. It’d never work out with this guy. You ought to see him, Orlando. It’s like he stepped out of some cheesy Hallmark movie. The dude walks around in this silly lumberjack flannel, talks like he’s reciting Christmas cards.” He shut his eyes, envisioning. “His hair is the color of chestnuts, his eyes are like looking at stars, and when he smiles—” Stopping abruptly, he shook himself out of it. “Tell Mr. Burns he’s got nothing to worry about. Mark my words, nothing is going to distract me from this job.” With that, he hung up the phone and returned inside.
“Everything OK?” Brent asked as Graham arrived back at their table.
“This has been great,” Graham replied, matter-of-fact. “I think it’s time we called it a night, though.”
A look of disappointment darkened his companion’s face. “But we still haven’t ordered dinner.”
“I think I lost my appetite.”
Brent shrugged with acceptance. “Then I suppose that means we’re done here.”
Without further ado, the pair took their leave.
Climbing into Brent’s pickup truck, though, a thought nagged adamantly at the back of Graham’s mind. Somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d forgotten something.
* * *
Arriving home, Graham shut the front door behind himself with a full-body sigh. What a day. He checked his watch. 11:04. Had he really been at the bar with Brent that long? It felt like barely any time had passed at all.
Apparently, it was true what they said about time flying when you were having—
Stop it, Graham, he reprimanded himself. You cannot go losing your head over Brent like this. You’re here to do a job, remember? A job that everything you’ve ever worked for is riding on. Do not louse this up for yourself now.
But, god, was that man still handsome as ever. And so…engaging. Graham couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about Brent gave off an…energy. Like simply being in his presence made Graham feel electric. It was hard to believe that feeling such a way could even be possible after a single day together.
He’d certainly never felt this way after any of his dates before.
Damn it, Graham. You’ve got it bad.
He hung his coat up in the closet.
And all of a sudden, it dawned on him why he’d felt like he’d forgotten something.
Shit, those mittens. He’d left them at their table.
Oh, well. They were ugly as sin, anyway. He headed up the stairs to check on Coco. With any luck, she’d be passed out from exhaustion after whatever antics his mother had kept them busy with earlier.
He cracked open the door to his old bedroom. There she was, Sleeping Beauty in all her snoring, drooling glory.
Well, at least she was here and not dancing on a table at some club.
Not that Mistletoe Grove offered much in the way of nightlife.
This did pose a predicament, though. Namely, his own sleeping accommodations. They hadn’t exactly discussed their arrangements earlier. And hell if he was going to cozy up in bed with Coco. Even for him, there were limits when it came to going above and beyond for a client.
He’d have to crash on the couch down in the basement. So long as he got up before his mother, she’d never be any the wiser.
That was another reason he couldn’t go gaga over Brent, he reminded himself as he descended the stairs. This charade he was playing with Coco. Their cover story hinged on them maintaining the illusion of a charming, happy couple.
A charming, happy, straight couple.
And falling for the local gay heartthrob did not exactly jive with that ruse.
He shook his head to himself. Who would have thought? Jockey Brent Danvers, star athlete of Mistletoe High, a card-carrying homosexual. It just went to show, appearances could definitely be deceiving.
He ought to know, given the lie he himself was peddling. It felt like an extra kind of wrong hiding himself from who was likely the only other member of the rainbow mafia within a thirty-mile radius. But what was he supposed to do? Once he outed himself to one person, this whole charade would begin to unravel.
And god forbid the news made it to his mother. Not that she seemed to have any problem with gays. It was just that he’d always been the perfect son. Somehow, coming out to his mom felt like he’d be letting her down.
Especially after seeing how happy his relationship, albeit a fake one, with Coco had made her.
He blew out a sigh. This holiday could not be over soon enough.
Flopping himself on the couch, he pulled out his phone and began to scroll through his social feed. A little mindless distraction was just what he needed.
Just then, a notification appeared: New friend suggestion.
He tapped on the icon.
And felt his stomach clench.
You might know: Brent Danvers.
How did the algorithm do this?
He swallowed down hard. Don’t tap. Don’t tap. Don’t tap. Don’t tap.
Tap.
A grid of Brent’s photos spread across his screen. The shots were a varied mix. Some showed him hiking through the forest (He was an outdoorsman? Swoon.), others depicted outings with friends (And he had a seemingly sane social life? Double swoon.), but by and large, the lion’s share of his content featured scenes from The Cozy Mug.
A pang of guilt hit Graham in the gut. Had he put his foot in his mouth earlier or what.
Was it a little silly, an entire business devoted to hot cocoa? Yes. Was it also on some level admittedly endearing, though? Also, yes.
It was clear by the photos the love Brent had for his shop. Maybe Graham shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss it, he thought to himself. After all, if someone as cute as Brent Danvers was this into hot cocoa, then clearly there had to be something to it.
He scrolled through the photos, becoming increasingly less aware of time and space.
God, was Brent dreamy. Those eyes, that smile, those cheekbones.
A sensation began to stir then below his belt.
What the…? Uh-oh.
He clicked his phone screen off.
Uh-uh, not a chance, no way. This had gone too far already. The last thing he needed was for things to get more out-of-hand.
Or rather, more in-hand, so to speak.
He shook the thought away. Don’t you dare, Graham. Just focus on something else, and you’ll calm down in no time.
The question was, what?
He racked his brain for a distraction. Come on, Graham. You could think about…
Fuck, this was harder than he’d expected.
In more ways than one.
He unlocked his phone again. Instantly, his heart fluttered at the sight of Brent’s dreamy, carved-by-the-gods face…
And neck…
And shoulders…
And chest…
And arms…
And…fuck.
Graham’s free hand had found its way to his crotch.
Silent, he listened for signs of anyone stirring upstairs. But all that met his ears was the stillness of the night.
An unsure breath escaped him. This really didn’t feel like something he ought to do.
But damn it, he was going to do it anyway.
He unzipped his pants slowly. His hardness bulged out from his fly.
God, Brent. Look what you do to me.
Gently, he massaged his manhood through his briefs, all the while, his eyes locked on the photos of Brent scrolling across his screen.
How had nature produced a man this beautiful? His deep, sensitive eyes that Graham could have sworn didn’t merely see him, but somehow saw into him. His firm, strong hands that, judging by his tree-trimming skills, he clearly knew how to use. His temping, kissable mouth that Graham would have killed just to taste.
He lowered the waistband of his briefs, slowly revealing the tufts of pubic hair above his shaft. His cock was practically begging to be freed, begging to be released.
Brent Danvers, I’ll never forgive you for this.
The next thing he knew, he was watching his rigid member spring out from confinement as he pulled his underwear the rest of the way down.
Jesus, said a voice inside his head, you haven’t been this hard in ages.
And for that he knew there was just one person to blame.
Or thank, he supposed, depending on how one viewed the matter.
And at least for now, he was feeling thankful indeed.
He admired the view of his equipment. Generally speaking, he considered himself of average attractiveness. His cock, however, was a notable exception. There was nothing average about walking around with an eight-inch pipe—and thick from head to hilt—swinging between your legs.
At the very least, it certainly never disappointed the guys he brought home.
Warm waves of pleasure began to roll across his body as he stroked himself lightly to Brent’s face on the screen. The whole world around faded slowly into the distance.
Yearning began to take over his system. Yearning for Brent’s body. Yearning for Brent’s sex.
Yearning for Brent’s love.
The pace of his strokes increased. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but an innate instinct. An uncontrollable urge for more.
For Brent.
He swiped through more of his pictures. The shots may have been entirely innocent, but the thoughts they inspired were indeed anything but. How a feed of casual, everyday photos of someone could drive Graham so incredibly wild, he frankly was at a loss to understand.
All he knew was that, when it came to Brent Danvers, Graham didn’t think he could ever get enough.
His breathing became labored as his speed increased again. He really shouldn’t be doing this down here, he thought to himself. After all, imagine what would happen if someone found him. Not only would he die of embarrassment at being caught quite literally with his pants down, but perhaps even worse, the secret of his crush on the local eligible bachelor would be out—not to mention along with it, himself.
But here in this moment—this moment of just himself, his manhood, and his fantasies of Brent—he was willing to take the risk.
Again, his body told him to speed up even more. Obedient, he complied, giving in to the desires that had taken over his willpower.
A photo of Brent at a wine tasting.
A photo of Brent cooking dinner.
A photo of Brent planting his garden.
Was there anything this guy couldn’t make sexy? As if it wasn’t enough that Brent was an Adonis. His whole life had to be adorable, too?
And what Graham wouldn’t have given to be a part of it.
He thought of what their life together could be. Just the two of them, in love, without a care in the world.
Man, that sounded nice.
His stroking sped up further, until he didn’t think he could possibly pump any faster. A sweat broke out across his body.
Fuck, if only Brent could be his. If only he could be Brent’s. Nothing in the world would have made him happier.
All of a sudden, a tingle began stirring in his groin. A tingle that grew into a swell. A swell that grew into a pulse. A pulse that grew into a tidal wave.
“Fuuuck!” he exhaled as a sonic boom of pleasure rocked his body and a thick, creamy load launched from his cock, splattering like a Jackson Pollock across himself.
Holy shit, Graham. That was, like, the most intense cumshot I think you’ve ever had.
The afterglow, however, was not destined to stick around. As the euphoria faded, Graham quickly found it replaced with another emotion.
Dread.
Crushing on Brent was a recipe for disaster. Not only was there no universe imaginable in which things between them could work out, but perhaps more importantly, falling for the local eye candy pulled his attention away from what really mattered, a.k.a. the entire reason he’d become stuck in this backwater in the first place.
He shook off the fog from his head. “Come on, Graham. You’re too smart to be pulling this shit.” He retrieved a spare blanket from inside a nearby ottoman. “Do you really want to throw away the opportunity you’ve been working toward your whole career just for some old schoolboy crush?” Blanketing himself, he hunkered down into his makeshift bed for the night. What he needed was to refocus. Refocus and reset.
He nestled his head into the couch pillows. “Just a few short days from now,” he reassured himself, “and you’ll be high-tailing it out of here, Graham. It won’t be long, and you’ll be free of Brent and his distractions for good.” He exhaled a sigh. “All you have to do is just stay calm, stay focused, and stay away from that troublemaker.”
He clicked off his phone screen and was fast asleep in minutes.
* * *
Breathing in the crisp morning air made Graham feel like a new man as he exited his rental car with Coco.
She took stock of the abundance of trussed-up evergreen trees just ahead. “Christmas tree shopping, Graham? Someone sure found their holiday spirit.” She shot him a wry glance. “Your date really go that well, huh?”
He stifled a grumble. “Very funny, Coco. First of all, it was not a date. And second, what we’re doing now is strictly business.”
“What does picking out a Christmas tree have to do with—”
“If you and I intend to pull this masquerade off, then we’ve got to make it convincing. And if we’re going to be convincing, then we’ve got to make ourselves look like the most happy, cheesy, and heterosexual couple to ever shop a Gap store.”
The remark drew a gasp of offense. “Graham, you know I wouldn’t be caught dead at a—”
“Figure of speech, Coco.”
The response seemed to placate her. “Well, I suppose I should be happy, you finally getting festive and all, even if it is just for show.”
“Now you’re catching on.” With that, he led the way to Hansen’s Christmas Tree Farm up ahead.
What they found awaiting them, though, was Graham’s own personal version of hell: a quaint, festive, and full-scale German Christmas market selling not only fresh-cut Christmas trees, but also homemade sweets, handcrafted holiday trinkets, and more.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” He pulled himself together. After last night, he had to keep his head in the game. What had he been thinking, slapping ham to fantasies about his hometown crush? His hometown male crush. If he didn’t get his act together, he could unravel everything.
Surely, he didn’t actually feel an attraction toward Brent. It was just that, with such limited options out here in Podunksville, of course he’d gravitate toward the first halfway-decent-looking guy. Simply put, he wasn’t thinking straight.
Literally.
The stakes were too high, though, to get distracted by romance. Especially a romance that was all in his head.
Without further ado, the pair began their tour. Entering the market, they passed underneath a wooden, Alpine-style archway, trimmed to perfection with ribbon, ornaments, and of course, a full strand of garland.
Flanking the entrance was, to no surprise, an ample assortment of the most lush, full evergreen trees from the farm, freshly cut for the season and ready to be transformed into festive Christmas masterpieces.
A smile spread between Coco’s cheeks as she took in the scent of crisp, sweet pine.
Graham merely wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Ahead, a winding avenue lined with wooden, old-world-style booths welcomed passersby on the hunt for their next Christmas treasure.
“You know,” said Coco, “there may not be a Bloomingdale’s, but this isn’t half-bad as far as shopping goes.” She stopped at a vendor selling glittery, handmade ornaments. “I mean, how can you not like Christmas when you’re someplace like this?”
“I guess I’m just that talented,” Graham replied with a snort.
She rolled her eyes at her hopeless handler as she purchased an ornament from the vendor.
From there, the pair ambled along down the path, swaths of hanging garland criss-crossing overhead.
“Let me take your hand, Coco.”
Her forehead creased in confusion. “Afraid I’m going to wander off?”
“Well, now that you mention it…” He shook his head in spite of himself. “But no. If we’re going to convince folks we’re a couple, then we need to sell it. Your hand, if you please.” He laced their fingers together.
A startled gasp escaped Coco’s lips. “Graham! Your hands are freezing!” She looked at his naked fist holding hers. “What happened to those mittens from your mother?”
The question drew a scoff. “Those abominations, you mean?” He shrugged, nonchalant. “I think I forgot them at the bar last night.”
A knowing grin spread on Coco’s face. “Distracted, were we?”
He gave her an eye roll. “Don’t start with me, Coco.”
His appeal, however, was in vain. “If you ask me,” Coco proceeded, well aware that pigs would fly before such a notion might ever occur to her companion, “if there’s anyone you should be here holding hands with, it’s Mr. Holiday Heartthrob.”
Graham just responded with a groan.
“Oh, come on, Graham. Won’t you just admit that somewhere deep down, you enjoyed your date with Brent last night?”
Graham felt his blood pressure rise. Stepping in front of her, he stopped them in their tracks. “For the last time, Coco, last night was not a date. My feelings toward Brent are strictly platonic.”
“Someone mention me?”
Graham did a double take at the voice entering the conversation. Spinning around, he laid eyes on none other than…
“Brent!” He could feel his cheeks flash crimson instantly. “What are you doing here?”
“Selling hot cocoa, of course.” He gestured to a makeshift hot cocoa bar set up amongst the other vendors.
“Of course,” Graham repeated, stifling a scoff.
“Would you like some? On the house.”
At that, Coco lit up like a Christmas star. “Would we ever!”
“No, thanks,” Graham declined.
“Come on, Graham,” Coco prodded. “A little hot cocoa is just what you need to warm up.”
It was then that Brent caught sight of Graham’s fingers nearing frostbite. A look of concern seized his face. “Graham, your hands!” He took them in his own to warm them.
It did the trick instantly. No sooner had their skin made contact than Graham practically felt himself begin to melt.
The display was not lost on Coco.
“Say, that reminds me,” Brent went on, still warming Graham’s hands. “Did you know you left your mittens at the bar last night?”
Graham feigned surprise. “So that’s where they went!” He shrugged as if at a loss. “Guess I must have been distracted or something.”
Coco shot him an are-you-kidding-me glare.
Neither of the men, however, seemed to notice.
“No worries, man. Sounded like that call you had to take was important.”
This caught Coco’s attention. “Call?”
“Yes,” replied Graham, temporarily forgetting their mixed company. “Thanks to you, as a matter of fact.” He stopped himself short, suddenly realizing he’d just come dangerously close to giving themselves away. He scrambled to concoct an explanation. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a ‘Santa’s mailbox’ in the background. “You, uh…forgot to pause the mail while we’re gone.”
Looks of bewilderment clouded his companions’ faces.
“Oh,” replied Brent, “well, that doesn’t sound all that—”
“Au contraire,” Graham improvised in an attempt to cover his gaffe. “We narrowly avoided chaos!”
The look on Brent’s face, though, suggested he felt differently. “Well, I’m glad to hear you got it sorted out.” He turned his attention to Coco. “So, how about that cocoa, Coco?” He turned to address Graham again. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, mister. I went back to the bar when I realized you’d forgotten your mittens. They’re ready and waiting over at the cocoa station.”
Graham fought to suppress a groan. “Yippee.”
With that, the trio set off for Brent’s cocoa booth.
* * *
The aroma of chocolate enveloped them as a rich stream of hot cocoa poured from the tap at Brent’s booth.
“That’s one hot cocoa, coming right up.” Brent placed the cup of liquid comfort into Coco’s hands before shifting his glance to Graham. “You sure you’re not thirsty?”
“Oh, he’s thirsty, all right,” Coco chimed in as she blew at her steaming cup.
Graham shot her a warning glare. “I’m plenty satiated as is, thank you.”
Brent shrugged, accepting. “As you wish.” He poured himself a cup and raised a toast with Coco. “To old friends”—he eyed Graham—“to new friends”—eyeing Coco—“and to the best Christmas season that Mistletoe Grove has ever seen.” He tapped his cup to Coco’s and they both took hearty swigs.
A look of revelation lit up Coco’s face then like she’d just found religion. “Brent! This is…this is…”
“Pretty good, huh?” A wry smirk curled on his lips.
“It’s unreal!” Her words came out in a gasp. Immediately, she raised the cup back to her lips and guzzled the rest of it down. “Graham, you’ve got to try this.”
He responded with an eye roll. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on the Cavity-Cola.”
“Your loss,” Coco retorted as she handed her cup back to Brent for a refill.
He smiled at Graham as he poured Coco’s second round. “I’ll do my best not to hold it against you. But don’t worry, I’ve got what you’re after, too.”
For a split second, Graham almost could have sworn he’d seen Brent toss him a wink.
What Brent actually tossed him, though, was his pair of mittens.
“Gee, thanks,” he retorted, reluctantly putting them on.
“Don’t mention it,” Brent replied. “After all, what are friends for, right?”
Right.
The exchange was interrupted by the slurping sounds of Coco inhaling her next cup. “This hot cocoa is amazing, Brent! You have got to tell me what your secret is.”
Brent touched a finger to his nose. “Sorry, but a magician never reveals his tricks.”
She downed another gulp. “Well, whatever you’re doing, you ought to bottle it. This stuff is dangerous. I can only imagine if the studio saw me drinking all these extra cal—” She zipped her lips tight, her face overcome with panic that she’d just let the cat out of the bag.
Brent released a good-natured chuckle. “Don’t worry, Coco. The secret to my cocoa may still be locked up, but your secret, my dear, is out.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Christmas Under Wraps, Part 4
A Cozy M/M Small Town Holiday Romance
Brent’s words shot a panic up Graham’s spine. He knew Coco wasn’t really his girlfriend? How?
A long sigh of relief escaped Coco. “Oh, thank god. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep up this charade that Graham and I are—”
“Just another boring couple?” Brent finished.
“Exactly!” Coco exclaimed.
Brent shook his head to himself. “I don’t know why Graham felt like he had to keep it hidden.”
“Me, either!” An unmistakable energy filled her voice.
Graham fought, unsuccessfully, to get a word in edgewise.
“It’s honestly kind of silly,” Brent went on, “Graham believing he could keep something like this under wraps.” He gave his pal a gamely pat on the shoulder.
“Right?!” Coco spoke as if a pack of bricks had just been lifted from her.
“Imagine, thinking you could be dating a celebrity and not have anyone find out.”
She wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. “Couldn’t have said it better my—” She did a sudden double take. “Wait, what?”
Graham’s whole body lightened with a quiet sigh of relief. Brent didn’t actually know their secret. This was nothing more than what they’d already discussed at Sally’s the night before.
A sly grin curled upon Brent’s lips as he eyed the nonplussed starlet. “Come on, Coco. You don’t have to pretend with me.” He sidled up next to Graham. “Last night at the bar, Graham here told me everything.”
If only he could have seen Graham shaking his head frantically at Coco then, he would have learned he in fact didn’t even know the half of it.
Reading Graham’s mind, Coco forced a gritted smile. “I see.”
Brent gave Graham back his breathing room then as he planted a kiss on Coco’s hand. “Allow me to be the first to say what an honor it is to have Mistletoe Grove graced by the presence of such a luminary as yourself, Miss Holliday.”
She returned a silent nod, unsure how to respond.
He sized up the two lovebirds, a sly grin appearing on his face. “Man, who would have thought? Nerdy Graham Bartlett dating a movie star. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”
The remark drew a smirk from Coco. “Well, at the very least, Graham certainly can be Grimm.”
Graham opted not to dignify the jab with a response.
Any animosity, though, was apparently lost on Brent. “I’ve got to admit I’m dying to know…how on earth did the two of you wind up together?”
Vague mumblings followed from them both. Shit, they’d never cooked up this part of their backstory.
A befuddled eyebrow quirked on Brent’s forehead.
And then, the responses came rapid-fire.
“The dog park!”
“A birthday party!”
A beat of silence followed as a panicked Graham concocted a cover. “The birthday was, uh, for a dog?”
Brent’s face lit up like a runway. “Aw man, I love dogs! What kind?”
“German Shepherd.”
“Chihuahua.”
Now it was Graham’s turn to grit his teeth. “A German Shepherd-Chihuahua mix, actually.”
Pure bewilderment came over Brent’s face. He shook it off to change subjects. “So, uh, I bet you guys must travel a lot for Coco’s work, huh? Any fun trips lately?”
“Milan!”
“Just Fire Island.”
All the color drained from Graham’s face then as he realized what he’d just said. “We’re more of the, uh, solo travel kind.” He clutched Coco’s hands passionately. “You know what they say, darling. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
He shot Brent a side-eye to see if he was buying it.
The results, however, were inconclusive.
“I’ve been to Fire Island once,” Brent replied. He furrowed his brow, contemplating. “I wouldn’t have thought that was your scene, Graham.” A curious glint lit up his eyes.
Suddenly, Graham felt like he was roasting inside his jacket. “Really? Oh, I guess I just like to keep an open mind.” His body went rigid. “When it comes to travel, that is.”
A wry grin flickered on Brent’s lips. “Good to know.” He held Graham’s gaze an extra beat.
“We really ought to be going,” Graham said then, breaking the spell. “I’m sure you’ve got lots to do, Brent. We don’t want to keep you.”
What he really wanted, of course, was to cut this off before he really stuck his foot in his mouth. Hooking Coco’s elbow, he ushered themselves away.
“Don’t be a stranger!” Brent’s voice called after them as they disappeared into the market.
* * *
“For the love of god, Graham,” Coco said once they were out of earshot, “would you wake up and smell the gingerbread? Brent is majorly into you, man.”
Graham shook his head, adamant. “He is not, Coco.”
“Then what do you call the sparkle that lit up his eyes every time he looked your way?”
“Simple. A sugar hangover from all that hot cocoa.” He took Coco’s empty cup and tossed it in a nearby waste bin. “Speaking of, take it easy on that stuff, would you? You do, need I remind you, have a movie premiere in a few days.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”
Graham couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure. And I can bench-press Chris Hemsworth.”
She responded with an eye-roll. “Say, what was that phone call Brent mentioned? The one that interrupted your date.”
He groaned at the mention of his now least favorite word. “The call that interrupted our platonic, non-romantic outing was about you, as a matter of fact. The boss wanted to know if you were behaving yourself.”
“And?”
“And I told him that, although you continue to test the limits of the term client management, with me by your side, there’s nothing for him to worry about.”
She let out a sigh. “My hero.”
“When you think about it, Coco, I am. Don’t forget, your comeback is riding on this premiere. You still want to walk the red carpet in memory of your grandmother, yes?”
She glowered at him silently.
He responded with a disinterested shrug. “Then, like it or not, my job is to make sure that every last detail remains under control.”
Almost as if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket then. Fishing it out, he read the text message displayed on the screen.
And felt a brick take a freefall deep inside his gut.
It was from his mother.
Code red!!! Emergency!!!
So much for keeping things under control. He swallowed a nervous gulp. “Come on, Coco. Shopping spree’s over.”
* * *
The entire drive back home, Graham’s mind ran wild with all the possible nightmare scenarios they might find waiting for them. What if his mother had taken a fall carrying ornaments down the stairs? Sparked an electrical fire while hanging up twinkle lights? Severed a finger practicing her turkey carving?
Any manner of catastrophes could have been just around the corner for them to discover.
That said, by the time Graham finally arrived back home with Coco, he’d managed to work himself up into full-on panic mode.
“Mom, are you alive?” He threw open the front door with the strength of a WWE title-holder.
And found his mother holding a tray of fresh-baked cookies.
“Graham!” she gasped, startled. “How on earth did you get across town so fast?”
A blank look of bewilderment took over his face then. “You said there was an emergency.”
She nodded earnestly. “There is!” She raised her tray of cookies. “I can’t find my spatula.”
Graham felt his eye twitch involuntarily. “Your spatula?”
“Yes,” his mother replied as if the urgency should have been obvious. “How am I supposed to plate these cookies if I don’t have a spatula?”
Just then, Coco burst in through the front door, as well. “Do I need to call urgent care?”
“More like urgent cookware,” Graham retorted. He returned his attention to his mother. “Mom, this can’t seriously be the reason you had us race across town?”
She propped her hands on her hips as if she’d just been dealt an insult. “Graham, you know my cookies are famous in Mistletoe Grove. I can’t disappoint my public, now can I?”
Graham decided it was best to bite his tongue.
“Be a dear, would you, and go pick one up at the store? Fratellini’s is still right where it’s always been.”
“And you need me to do this because…?”
She placed a hand to her chest as if to feign offense. “Well, I certainly can’t go. I’ve still got another batch to watch in the oven.”
“Go on,” Coco said with a smirk. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
Spinning on his heels toward the door, Graham turned his face heavenward. “I don’t even eat sugar anymore.”
* * *
Left alone with Coco, Carol set about tidying up the kitchen. “I hope I didn’t disrupt your morning, dear, calling the two of you back to the house like this.”
“Oh, not at all, Ms. Bartlett. Honestly, it was probably for the best that things got cut short.”
A cloud of concern came over Carol’s face then. “Oh? What makes you say that, dear?” She rested a hand atop Coco’s on the counter. “And please, call me Carol, dear.”
Coco mustered a lopsided smile. “You’re very kind to ask, Ms. Bartlett—Carol, I mean—but I don’t want to be a bother.”
A you-don’t-honestly-think-you’re-getting-off-that-easy-do-you? look quirked on Carol’s face.
Coco released a sigh of defeat. “Well, I guess if you really want to know…” She paused to collect herself. “It’s about Graham.”
“Of course it is, dear,” Carol replied with a knowing smile.
Coco furrowed her brow in thought, as if trying to choose her words carefully. “Has he always been so…so…thick-headed?”
The chuckle that escaped Carol then told Coco she didn’t know the half of it. “Is Santa’s suit red, my dear?”
Coco cocked her head in confusion.
A warm smile appeared on Carol’s lips. “What’s got Graham all stubborn this time?”
Coco let her gaze wander out the window. “Sometimes, I just wish Graham could learn to accept the love in front of him. If only he could learn to look past the end of that nose of his, he’d see that love is out there.”
Behind her, Carol’s brow creased in confusion. “Whatever do you mean, my dear? Graham has you”—she arched an inquisitive eyebrow—“hasn’t he?”
Coco turned white as a sheet as she realized what she’d just in fact said. “Well…yes…umm…of course…”
“Coco…” The tone in Carol’s voice left no room for doubt that she was on to her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about, Ms. Bartlett—Carol!” She gritted her teeth into her best attempt at a smile. “Forget I mentioned it.”
Carol narrowed her eyes at Coco then until they practically disappeared. “Coco, us girls gotta stick together. Now, tell me, dear. What ordeal has Graham got you wrapped up in that he wants you to keep from his mother?”
A tense silence followed as Coco waged an inner war with herself.
“Coco…” Carol’s voice had become increasingly commanding.
Finally, Coco cracked. “All right, I confess! Graham and I…we’re not really a couple. It’s all just a cover.”
The admission cast a blanket of bewilderment over Carol’s face. “A cover?” She furrowed her brow, computing. “A cover for what, dear?”
Coco heaved a sigh of relief at having come clean. “Well, if you ask me, I say it’s his way of avoiding opening up to real love. It’s so clear, Carol, they’re perfect for each other.” She shut her eyes and daydreamed. “I mean, if you just saw the way Graham looks at him…”
Her reverie, though, was quickly cut short by a loud choke sounding from Carol. “Him?”
A look of horror filled Coco’s eyes then as she realized, once again, her fat mouth had gotten the best of her. “Oh, crud.”
A beat of silence followed as Carol paused to let the revelation sink in. “I suppose I’m not that surprised.” Her gaze seemed to drift miles away. “I think, deep down, a part of me always wondered. There were definitely signs over the years.” She clutched Coco’s hand on the kitchen counter. “When Graham was a little boy, every year when the Christmas catalog came in the mail, he’d circle the toys he hoped Santa would bring. And every year without fail, what did I find myself filling my cart with but tiaras, Barbies, pretend makeup sets…”
Coco bit back a bemused scoff. “Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“Posters of Enrique Iglesias shirtless.”
At that, the starlet released a snort. “Now, that, on the other hand…”
A heavy sigh followed from Carol. “I just wish he’d felt like could have told me.” Her gaze returned to the room. “What kind of mother must I have been? That my little boy didn’t feel safe to show his true self to his mama?” Her eyes began to glisten as if about to shed a tear.
Now it was Coco’s turn to take Carol’s hand in hers. “Oh, Carol. Give it time. This is Christmas, after all.”
A sniffle followed from Carol then as she worked to pull herself together. “Thank you, dear.” She let out a weary sigh. “I’m afraid that at this point, though, Graham finally opening up to me would take a miracle.”
Coco gave Carol’s hand a squeeze. “Well, lucky for you, I hear this is the season for those.”
Carol mustered a smile as she wiped a tear from her eye. “I hope you know I would have been proud to call you my daughter-in-law.”
A warm glow seemed to radiate off Coco then. “Thank you, Ms. Bartlett.”
The comment drew an expectant glance.
“I mean, thank you, Carol,” Coco corrected. She furrowed her brow in thought. “I think I would have quite liked being your daughter-in-law.”
The remark made Carol’s smile grow wider. “Well, there’s no reason why we can’t still be good friends.” She took a centering breath to reset. “So, tell me, who is this gentleman caller who’s got my Graham so smitten?”
Coco shrunk back nervously at the question. “Oh, I don’t know if I should say. It’s really not my place.”
“Nonsense,” Carol contested. “I’m his mother, dear.”
Coco chewed at her lip, considering. “Well, I suppose you do have a point.” A conflicted look registered on her face. “But you have to promise me you won’t let on that you know.”
Carol traced the sign of the cross against herself.
A mischievous grin curled on Coco’s lips. “You’re trouble, Carol Bartlett.”
“I know. Ain’t it fun?”
Coco shook her head in spite of herself. “All right, so you didn’t hear this from me, but if there happened to be someone Graham had his eye on, and if that person also happened to be a man, then you might say that person just may or may not happen to own a certain local hot cocoa shop.”
The delight of someone who’d just scored the most deliciously juicy piece of gossip lit up on Carol’s face. “No…Graham and…Brent?”
“Sitting in a tree,” Coco chimed. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
It took Carol a moment to process the news. “Wow, I have to admit, that’s certainly a surprise.”
“I hope you’re not disappointed?”
“On the contrary, dear. Brent Danvers is a catch.” She paused as if to get herself back under control. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dear, but you mean to tell me that Mistletoe Grove’s most eligible bachelor has eyes for my Graham?”
“Like a dog drooling over a steak.” Coco shook her head to herself. “And frankly, his inability to see it is a bigger pain than I thought possible.”
“Graham never was the most observant child,” Carol offered by way of explanation. “I wonder why he’s so in denial.”
“I’ll tell you why,” Coco responded confidently. “It’s because he doesn’t want to get attached.”
“What?” The look on Carol’s face spelled utter bewilderment.
“He knows we’re only in town a few more days before we head back to LA. And it’s given him such tunnel vision that he isn’t even willing to give love a chance.”
Carol nodded her understanding. “He always was the practical type, Graham.” She turned her gaze out the window, wistful. “I do miss him, though. Just think what it would be like having him back home—for good, I mean. It would do a mother’s heart good to finally see him find someone who makes him happy the way he deserves.” A beat of silence passed as she heaved a heavy sigh.
The next moment, though, she snapped to attention. “Coco,” she said, her voice electric, “I have an idea.”
“Oh?” It was the tone of someone who feared what can of worms they may have just cracked open.
Seizing Coco by the shoulders, Carol looked her straight in the eyes. “You and I are going to get those boys together,” she said. “And what’s more, we’re going to do it before Christmas Day.”
Coco swallowed a lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. “But, how?”
“An excellent question, my dear,” Carol replied. “But that’s precisely what you and I are about to figure out. So, look alive, kiddo. It’s time to commence Operation: Mistletoe Matchmakers.” She stroked her chin, scheming. “And I think I know exactly how we’ll get started. Tell me, what would you say to a hot cocoa delivery?”
* * *
Graham, you do not get paid enough to put up with this shit. He exited his rental car onto his mother’s driveway, the last spatula left in-stock at Fratellini’s locked in his death grip.
This promotion had better pull through, he thought to himself, ’cause coming home for Christmas was fast turning out to be anything but merry.
Especially now that Coco had turned it into her mission to try to set Graham up with Brent. Part of him was almost glad in hindsight that his mother had texted when she had. It may not have turned out being a real emergency, granted—well, not unless you considered baked goods a crisis—but at least it had granted him reprieve from Coco’s haranguing over Brent.
Why couldn’t she give it a rest, already? It was bad enough he was stuck inside the real-life production of Miracle on 34th Street that constituted his hometown. On top of that, he was now fending off a matchmaking scheme hatched by the very person with whom he was supposed to be in a committed relationship.
What Coco saw in Brent, Graham failed to understand. It wasn’t like Brent was that hot. Back in LA, there were plenty of guys with washboard abs, perky pecs, bulging biceps…
Eyes that sparkled like a pair of priceless gemstones.
A smile that warmed you up instantly, even on a cold winter’s day.
Hands that Graham would’ve given anything to feel wrapped around himself.
He shook his daydreams away. Pull yourself together, Bartlett. You’re letting this town get inside your head.
But not for long. It was time to put an end to Coco’s obsession with sparking romance. As soon as he walked through that door, he’d demand a word with her in private. They may have only had just a few more days in town, but Graham for one did not intend to spend them fielding more of Coco’s holiday shenanigans.
He thrust open the front door. “Upstairs. Now.”
The deer-in-headlights look on Brent standing in the front hall before him then made his heart rate flatline.
“Graham,” Brent said, nonplussed. “I’m flattered, but I think I’d prefer another try at dinner first.”
A beat of silence followed as Graham attempted to process what he’d just walked into.
“Graham!” his mother greeted as she breezed in from the kitchen. “You found a spatula. How splendid!”
“What is he doing here?” He flicked a glance at Brent.
The question drew a frown on his mother’s face. “Graham, is that any way to talk about a guest?”
“It’s OK, Ms. Bartlett,” Brent assured. “Admittedly, I don’t usually offer deliveries, but for my best customer, I’m willing to make an exception.” He tossed her a wink as he extended a paper cup to Graham. “Hot cocoa?”
Graham grumbled at the beverage. “No, thank you.”
“Are you sure, Graham?” Carol asked as she sipped from her own cup. “It’s really quite good.”
“Come on, Graham. It’s just the way you like it,” Coco added. “Nice and hot.” Her eyes flicked over to Brent.
Graham fought to maintain composure as he hooked his arm around the starlet’s. “Would you two excuse us for a moment?” He led her off to the kitchen.
Out of earshot of the group, Graham let his facade disintegrate. “What do you think you’re doing, Coco?”
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Whatever do you mean, Graham?”
He felt his forehead sizzle. “Don’t play dumb with me, Coco. You know exactly what I mean. One minute, I’m telling you I don’t want to get involved with Brent, the next, he’s at my mother’s house serving us hot cocoa!”
“Look, Graham,” she replied as she took a sip from her cup, “just because you’re too vain to let yourself enjoy a little sugar doesn’t mean the rest of us—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, Coco!”
Patronizing, she shook her head. “Oh, Graham. Stop being so paranoid. It’s nothing but an innocent coincidence that Brent happened to drop by. Tell me, would I really concoct a scheme just to set you up with some Christmas dreamboat?”
Graham rolled his eyes as he watched Coco take her leave. “Yes.”
Thus adjourned, he followed Coco back to the group—only to find yet another surprise awaiting him.
Somehow, a coil of Christmas lights had found its way into Brent’s arms.
The sight triggered a flashback to the debacle Graham had endured the day before with the tree in the town square.
“What’s this?”
“Brent is truly a godsend,” his mother offered by way of explanation. “You know how much I hate getting up on ladders, Graham. Well, Brent here has offered to help me finally finish my decorations out front.”
Graham could practically feel the stupor washing over his face then. “You mean there’s more?” He recalled the display of lights that could have rivaled Times Square that had greeted them upon their arrival.
“You know,” Brent said, “I could really use some help.” He raised up the tangle of lights in his arms.
“We wouldn’t want Brent here taking another fall now, would we?” Carol added.
Graham heaved a sigh of exasperation. “No, we certainly wouldn’t want that.”
* * *
Sitting on the roof, Graham went stiffer than his grandmother’s fruitcake as he peered out over the edge.
Brent shook his head to himself. “Not a fan of heights, I take it?” Lowering himself to his haunches, he stapled a length of lights into the trim.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Graham retorted, unamused, “seeing as just yesterday you almost sent yourself to the hospital doing this.” He worked to maintain a low center of gravity.
The comment drew a chuckle. “Hazard of the trade, I suppose.”
“Well, I’d like to trade it in now, thank you very much.” Reluctantly, he set to work assisting Brent with the lights.
Not that this house needed any more holiday spirit. Graham shuddered to think what his mother’s next electric bill would be. With the amount of lit-up decorations currently gracing the fire hazard that had become of this house, he was surprised his mom hadn’t drained the whole New England power grid yet.
Still, at the moment, he had bigger concerns to worry about. Namely, Brent. It sure was a coincidence that no sooner had Graham been sent off on an errand—one that, in his opinion, had been entirely unnecessary—than the guy with whom Coco wanted desperately to set him up been beckoned to arrive urgently with a special delivery.
It had Coco’s meddling written all over it.
He needed to put an end to this—and fast. Not only because he was here to do a job, he was going to be leaving soon, and he was patently disinterred in whatever Brent had to offer him, but also on top of all that, if Coco kept up her matchmaking antics, then sooner or later, his mother would be bound to grow suspicious.
And homosexuality was not a topic of conversation he was interested in breeching with his mom.
“Gosh,” Brent said, shaking Graham from his thoughts, “Graham Bartlett and Brent Danvers, working together side-by-side.” He chuckled in spite of himself. “Mistletoe High would have never believed it.”
Graham arched an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Brent busied himself affixing another strand of lights. “It’s just that, who would have thought, right? You’ve got to admit, we didn’t exactly travel in the same circles back then.”
That sure was a gut punch. Granted, Graham knew he wasn’t exactly top of the food chain back in high school, but he certainly hadn’t thought Brent was the kind of guy to go around rubbing it in.
Brent seemed to realize his faux pas. “Aw, shucks, I didn’t mean it like that. Besides, look at you now. Big, successful businessman, living the dream in LA.”
Graham just shrugged. That’s right, he was living the dream, wasn’t he?
Brent stroked his chin as he narrowed his eyes at his companion. “Say, you never did tell me what it is you do out there. Must be pretty important if you have to leave dinner for work calls at all hours.” He pinned him with an expectant look.
Graham avoided making eye contact as he stapled another length of lights. “Oh, you probably wouldn’t find it very interesting.”
“And why is that?” An unmistakable edge had entered Brent’s voice. “Because I’m just a simple, small-town cocoa bar owner?”
Now it was Graham’s turn to realize his faux pas. He stammered to come up with a reply.
Brent, however, beat him to it. “Maybe I’m not some high-powered, big-city businessman, Graham, but that doesn’t mean—”
“That came out wrong,” Graham cut him off. He let his gaze wander across the bird’s-eye view they had of town up on the roof. “And trust me, I’m not exactly sure you’re missing out on much.” A contemplative sigh escaped him.
A quizzical look dawned on Brent’s face as he took in the sight of Graham gazing out wistfully, almost as if realizing there may have perhaps been more to his old high school classmate than he’d initially given him credit for. “Why do you do it, then?”
The question seemed to pull Graham back to the present. He cocked his head as if failing to compute.
Brent decided to rephrase. “Why not call it quits, I mean?”
The winter breeze chilled them as Graham, silent, contemplated.
“It’s just…it’s what I do,” he finally replied, as if there was no other way to explain it. He shook his head to reset. “Look, no offense, but I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”
There seemed to be an extra force behind Brent’s next squeeze on his staple gun. “I guess never mind, then.”
A quiet grumble escaped Graham’s lips. “Come on, Brent. It’s just that, you’re still…here.” He resumed stapling his own strand of lights. Why was he trying to explain himself? “Not that I blame you. Here, you were the most popular guy in high school. Meanwhile, I was just…well, frankly, I was a nobody.”
Brent looked at him, askance. “You don’t really think I—or anyone else around town, for that matter—still cares who we were back in high school, do you?”
Graham, however, seemed to ignore the question. “Getting out of Mistletoe Grove was the best thing I ever did,” he said, almost as if to remind himself. “It meant I could finally be somebody.”
Nodding coolly, Brent followed Graham’s gaze to whatever had apparently captured his attention on the horizon. “Well, I’m glad to hear life in LA has worked out for you so well.”
A brief delay followed before Graham registered the question. When he finally responded, his mind sounded miles away. “Yes, exactly.”
The stillness, however, was quickly broken the next moment by a chaotic whir of motion. A panicked yelp escaped Graham as, in his distraction, he lost his footing on the roof. Limbs flailing, he began to slip toward the edge.
Guess you’ll be spending Christmas in the hospital, a voice in his head said.
Fortunately, no ER trips would be needed that day. Although Graham had braced himself for the neck-breaking impact of a freefall into the yard, the next thing he knew, he’d been swept up into a strong pair of arms.
Pulse racing, he managed to catch his breath. “Brent!” He felt his heart flutter as, safe in his rescuer’s embrace, he lost himself briefly in his eyes.
“Good thing I was here to catch you, huh?”
He managed a lopsided smile. “Yes, I suppose it was, wasn’t it?”
* * *
Thankfully, the task was finished without further incident. Still, by the time the pair returned inside, it was already dusk.
“Brent, my dear, you’re an angel.”
Graham watched his mother wrap Brent in a squeeze that, even for her, seemed a bit forward. “Hey, I helped, too, you know!” Shedding his jacket, he hung it up in the coat closet.
Brent eyed him knowingly. “Yes, until you almost fell off the roof!”
“Graham!” His mother patted his sides as if checking for injury. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, mom.” He rolled his eyes like an embarrassed teenager.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Bartlett,” Brent inserted. “I made sure nothing happened to Mr. Graceful here.”
Graham tried to shrug it off, but there was definitely something about the tone in Brent’s voice just then that made his heart pitter-patter.
A sly grin twisted then upon Carol’s face. “Well, Graham, it appears you’re lucky indeed.” Her eyes flicked over to Brent in a display that made Graham’s heart rate pick up for a different reason.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. She couldn’t possibly suspect something between him and Brent…
“I insist you let me pay you for your troubles.” Graham watched as his mother offered Brent a wad of cash from her wallet.
Brent waved the bills away. “Not a chance, Carol. Trust me, it was no trouble at all.” He cracked a smile at Graham that simultaneously made him weak in his knees and panicked in his chest.
“Hey, I’ll take it,” he joked at his mom in an attempt at a diversion.
She leveled a look at him that said she wasn’t amused. “In that case,” she continued, returning her attention to Brent, “allow me to repay you a different way.” A spark appeared in her eyes that Graham knew could only mean trouble. “I’m feeling like a movie night tonight. You must stay and join us—I’ve got popcorn!”
Graham felt his stomach turn to lead. “Mom, don’t be pushy. I’m sure Brent already has plans tonight.” He said a silent prayer. Please let Brent have other plans tonight.
Unfortunately, Graham’s guardian angel must have clocked out for the day, because the next words to come out of Brent’s mouth made his pulse take a nosedive.
“As a matter of fact, I’d love to stay for a movie.” He hesitated briefly. “That is, as long as Graham and Coco don’t mind.”
“Did someone say movie?” Coco materialized from across the house to join them. “What are we watching?”
A sinking feeling took hold inside Graham’s chest at the glee lighting up his mother’s face then. “Why, my favorite holiday movie, of course.”
Graham swallowed down hard. No doubt about where this was going.
“It’s an old, black-and-white classic,” Carol went on. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”
Yep, this was exactly what he’d feared.
“Holiday With the Wholesomes!”
The look on Coco’s face then couldn’t have been brighter if she’d had a pair of spotlights trained on her. “What a coincidence! That’s—”
The daggers in Graham’s eyes, though, zipped her lips tight.
“One of…my favorites…too.” She forced a smile that was anything but convincing, if the skepticism on Carol’s face then was any indication.
Still, Carol apparently had decided not to press the matter, at least not for now. “I knew there was something I liked about you, Coco.” She spread her arms wide to usher the group into the living room. “Come on, everyone. I’ll get it all queued up.”
Thus held captive, the three young people allowed themselves to be herded along shoulder to shoulder. Ever so briefly, Graham felt himself brush against Brent. A wave of goosebumps rushed across his body.
Brent staying the evening was going to turn out being either the best way this day could have ended…or the worst.
* * *
Much to his chagrin, Graham quickly found Holiday With the Wholesomes decidedly less terrible than he’d remembered. Perhaps his taste in movies had evolved over the years.
Then again, perhaps the reason he wasn’t currently tempted to gouge out his eyeballs had less to do with what he was watching and more to do with who he was watching it with.
He snuck a sidelong glance at Brent on the sofa beside him. With the four of them packed together, the leftover relic of the ’90s certainly didn’t afford much in the way of breathing room.
Not that he was complaining. Even being sandwiched against a sofa arm wasn’t so bad with Brent at his side.
Eyes fixed on the TV, Brent reached into the popcorn bowl cradled between him and Graham. As he chewed, the glow of the screen cast into sharp relief his high, angular cheekbones.
God, even eating junk food, Brent managed to look dreamy.
Graham shifted his attention back to the movie. On the screen, a young man and woman—the latter, of course, portrayed by none other than Coco’s grandmother, Iris—embraced each other before a roaring fireplace.
“Ah, young love,” Carol commentated with a sigh. “Isn’t it romantic?” The meaningful glance she flicked Graham and Brent’s way, though, went unnoticed as, transfixed, Graham fell back into the story.
“You know,” said the woman onscreen, leaning passionately into her lover, “I still don’t think I really, truly believe it.”
Absently, Graham reached his hand toward the popcorn bowl.
“Believe what, my dear?” the man replied, holding her.
Beside Graham, Brent also extended his hand toward the popcorn.
“The way fate brought us back together again,” answered the woman.
Graham’s fingers dug into the bowl.
“Almost,” the woman continued, “like it was meant to be.”
Simultaneously, Brent’s reach also entered the bowl.
“Like it happened for a reason.”
A sudden jolt of electricity sent a spark through Graham’s system then as, inside the popcorn bowl, he registered the touch of Brent’s hand.
A red hue rose instantly over the two men’s cheeks.
A display that did not go unnoticed by the others in the room.
Mortified, Graham yanked his hand from the bowl faster than Coco downing a double shot of tequila. He made an attempt to refocus on the movie.
The man onscreen had pulled himself away from his lover. “But this, too, is happening for a reason, my darling. You know the plan was never for me to stay.”
Carol wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh, I always hated this part.”
Iris’s character threw herself desperately back against the man. “But you don’t really have to go. Surely, you could work something out.”
Coco gave Carol’s arm a squeeze. “It’s hard, isn’t it, watching someone you care about sabotage their chance at happiness.” She leveled a glare at Graham.
“Can you imagine?” replied Carol, eyes still glued to the movie. “Especially when the person who makes him so happy is right there in front of him.” She sniffled audibly.
Graham felt himself about to boil over. Something about this felt mighty suspicious. He stood to his feet. “Coco, a word in the kitchen, please?”
TO BE CONTINUED
Christmas Under Wraps, Part 5
A Cozy M/M Small Town Holiday Romance
Leading Coco to the kitchen, Graham was a volcano ready to erupt. Apparently, someone needed a reminder just who was in charge around here.
Unfortunately, that someone was not in a listening mood.
“You know,” Coco began the moment the door had closed behind them, “if you really want to keep up this charade that you and I are lovers, you have got to stop going all doe-eyed every time you look Brent’s way.”
The comment shot a bristle up Graham’s spine. “Ew. First of all, I never want to hear the words ‘you,’ ‘I,’ and ‘lovers’ together in a sentence again. Ever.”
Disbelief flooded her face. “I’m sorry, is that not exactly what—”
“And second,” he continued, “what kind of stunt were you trying to pull out there?”
She feigned innocence with a shrug. “I’m sure I haven’t the foggiest idea what you could—”
“‘Isn’t it hard watching someone you care about sabotage their chance at happiness?’” he quoted from Coco’s commentary on the movie. He wiped a hand tiredly down his face. “Come on, Coco. Are you trying to delude my mother into thinking I’m crushing on…” A beat of silence followed as realization dawned on his face. “Oh, no. You didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” Backing away, Coco grit her teeth nervously.
Graham proceeded to match her steps. “Surely, after all I’ve done for you to salvage what’s left of your career, you wouldn’t betray me like this.”
“Like what?” Swallowing a gulp, she continued to carefully retreat.
“You know exactly ‘like what,’ Coco.” He stepped up toward her again. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. This whole trip, you’ve been trying to set me up with Brent.”
“Because he’s perfect for you!”
“He’s the opposite of perfect for me, Coco. Geez, if I hadn’t known him back in high school, I’d have sworn the guy must’ve materialized out of some cheesy Hallmark movie. Can you really picture me with someone like that?”
“I certainly know you’re picturing it, the way you look at him.”
He grumbled audibly. “Look, even if I did have an interest in Brent—which I don’t—he wouldn’t go for a guy like me. I’m not his type.”
She shook her head to herself. “Graham, as much as it pains me to stroke your already massive ego, let me assure you, based on the way Brent looks at you, you must be exactly his type.”
The remark drew an eye roll from Graham. “What exactly is in all that hot cocoa you’ve been drinking?” He let out a scoff. “Look, even if I did believe Brent had an interest in me, now is not the time for me to go around chasing love. Come Christmas Day, it’s back to LA for the both of us. Why would I want to get involved with someone just to pick up and leave?”
Coco shrugged, impish. “Well, you do know how things work out in the movie, right?”
The question drew a groan from Graham. “Holiday With the Wholesomes is not real life, Coco.”
“But what if it could be?!”
He released a heavy sigh. “Coco, do yourself a favor. Stop trying to solve other people’s problems. You don’t know what you’re doing. Trust me, that ivory tower of yours suits you much better. OK, hun?”
A visible wave of anger rose in Coco’s cheeks then. “As a matter of fact, I’ll have you know, Graham—”
“All I need to know,” he cut off, “is this: Do you or do you not want to be a real movie star again?”
She blew out a disgruntled scoff. “Of course I do, Graham.”
“And do you or do you not want to finally walk the red carpet for your grandmother?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Then what I need is for you to put this nonsense about Brent and I out of your head for good. It isn’t meant to be, and I have a job to focus on. You do understand that, right?” He gripped her by her shoulders. “Coco, if we can pull this off, we can both have what we want. All we have to do is stay on the down low, stay out of trouble, and stay out of the tabloids. Then you get your A-lister movie premiere, and I, god willing, will finally get the promotion I’ve been slaving for.” He pinned her with a serious look. “But that means you’ve got to cut it out with this monkey business. If people catch on that we’re anything but another normal couple, our whole cover will be blown and then this whole masquerade will have been for nothing. You don’t want that, do you?”
Reluctantly, she shook her head. “But—”
“No buts,” Graham declared. “Now, you and I are going to march back out to the living room. We’re going to finish watching that cornball excuse for a movie. And if I so much as hear one more peep about Brent Danvers out of you, so help me, Coco, I’m going to—”
“Everything all right in here?”
Looks of horror filled Graham and Coco’s faces at the sight of Carol entering through the kitchen door.
“Fine,” Graham sputtered, teeth clenched. “Just fine.” He gulped as his mother narrowed her eyes skeptically.
“Coco,” Carol said after a pause, “why don’t you go keep Brent company back out in the living room. I’d like to have a chat with my boy.”
At this, Graham felt his heart rate flatline. This could not be good.
* * *
“Have a seat, dear,” Carol said. She gestured toward the kitchen counter.
Obediently, Graham did as he was told. A sit-down talk, eh? This definitely could not be good. Nervous, he watched as his mother dug into the fridge, returning with a plateful of Christmas wreath cookies made from green-dyed corn flakes and Red Hots. “Care for a cookie, dear? These always were your favorite.”
Graham waved the treats away. “No, thanks, Mom. I can’t afford that junk over the holidays. I need to be speedo-ready for Puerto Vallarta in January.” His face went pale as he realized the words he’d just said. He sputtered in panic. “I’m taking Coco there for a special date, of course.”
“Of course,” his mother repeated.
Graham swallowed a gulp. Was that skepticism he’d detected in his mother’s voice then?
She helped herself to a cookie. “Nice girl, that Coco.” She munched off half a wreath.
Narrowing his eyes, Graham waited as his mother chewed. “Indeed.”
Carol dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I’d imagine being with her must make you very happy, son.”
“We are happy,” he responded, if a bit hastily.
“I’m very glad to hear that.” She popped the second half of the cookie into her mouth. “What more can a mother ask for, right?”
Graham felt his insides begin to clench. Something about this was feeling off. Mark his words, if Coco had said something to his mother about Brent, he was going to…
He’d have to…
Well, come to think of it, if Coco had let their cat out of the bag, he didn’t know what he’d be able to do about it.
He released a heavy sigh. “What’s this about, Mom?”
She went in for another cookie. “It’s just that, well, you don’t seem happy, Graham. Not like you used to be.”
The remark elicited a groan. “That’s because I grew up, Mom. Real life isn’t something out of Holiday With the Wholesomes. The rest of the world isn’t like Mistletoe Grove.”
It appeared he’d struck a chord with his mother as she nodded her head thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose there’s some truth to that. Not even Mistletoe Grove is quite like Mistletoe Grove anymore.”
Graham recalled the conspicuous lack of holiday tourists in town compared to his childhood memories. “Why stay, then?”
A silence fell over the room as his mother considered the question. “Because it’s home, I suppose. It’s filled with people I care about. And even when things get hard, you don’t just abandon the people you love. You stick with them, see it through together.” She furrowed her brow in thought. “It’s not the lights and the garland and the Christmas trees that make Mistletoe Grove special, Graham. It’s the people. And Mistletoe Grove has the best of them. Well, with one notable exception, of course.” She cracked a wry grin.
Graham responded with an eye roll. “Nice try, Mom. I know what you’re trying to do, and it isn’t going to work. My life is in LA, not here.”
She smirked in spite of herself. “I know, dear. What was I thinking? Of course Mistletoe Grove can’t compete with the glitz and glam of LA. What have we got here that could possibly be worth staying for?” She flicked a not-so-subtle glance toward the living room.
By the time Graham registered it, though, his mother had already moved on. “Oh, never mind. Let’s get back to the movie, shall we? We’re keeping the others waiting.”
Watching his mother exit the kitchen, Graham felt like his stomach had just turned to lead. Had he just seen what he thought he’d seen? Surely, he must have imagined it. His mother couldn’t actually have been hinting at Brent just then.
Could she?
He blew out a tired sigh. Just what he needed. As if keeping Coco in line wasn’t already giving him trouble enough, now he had to worry about potentially fending off his mother’s meddling, too.
Where was the eggnog when you needed it?
* * *
By the grace of god, Graham managed to survive the rest of the movie night unscathed. Then again, maybe it had less to do with divine intervention and more to do with his patent refusal to acknowledge Brent’s mere existence the rest of the evening.
Not that Graham wanted to be rude. Brent hadn’t done anything wrong personally. It was simply a matter of survival. Now that his smokescreen was in jeopardy, Graham knew he couldn’t afford to take chances. The only way to avoid arousing further suspicion—not to mention himself—was to avoid paying Brent any mind.
He’s not even interested, Graham, said a voice inside his head. And even if he was, he thinks you’re dating Coco. Don’t go catching feelings for someone who doesn’t feel them in return.
Geez, had that been a close call in the kitchen. For a minute there, Graham had been certain his mother had caught on to the intrigue he felt toward Brent.
He swallowed down hard. Could she have been suspicious? The way she’d been talking earlier sure seemed to suggest she knew he was keeping something from her.
Maybe he ought to tell her, he thought to himself. If not about Brent, at least about himself.
His true self.
He quickly shook the thought away. Why do you do this to yourself, Graham? It’s none of your mother’s concern what goes on—or doesn’t go on, rather, as of late—in your bedroom. Besides, you’re only here for a few more days. Why complicate things by opening up a whole can of worms when you can simply leave well enough alone?
Perhaps because she was his mother.
Perhaps because she loved him.
Perhaps because he owed her the truth.
What was it she’d said back in the kitchen? That Graham didn’t seem happy?
I’m plenty happy, countered a voice in his head. I’ve got the career of my dreams. I’ve got a condo that would make most people in this podunk town’s heads spin. I’ve got…
He paused to collect his thoughts.
Truth be told, he had everything he’d ever wanted. But deep down, a part of him knew he wasn’t being honest with himself. He wasn’t happy, not truly. The question was, why?
Perhaps because he didn’t have everything he’d ever wanted. What he had was everything he was supposed to want.
It’s not the lights and the garland and the Christmas trees that make Mistletoe Grove special, he heard his mother’s voice say inside his head. It’s the people.
Who did Graham have back in LA? Sure, he had coworkers he generally liked, friends he generally tolerated, but who did he have back there who mattered? Who in LA made him light up the way Brent did whenever he walked in the room?
A swelling instrumental theme yanked him from his thoughts. On the TV, an end card written in elaborate script appeared. The screen faded to black.
“Now that’s what I call cinema,” Brent assessed. Standing to his feet, he stretched up high, revealing a tantalizing strip of toned, furry torso beneath his shirt.
Goddamn, said a voice in Graham’s head. He resisted the urge to lick his lips.
Brent flicked a glance toward the other end of the couch. “Looks like some of us have already settled in for their long winter’s nap.”
Following Brent’s sightline, Graham chuckled at Coco and his mother fast asleep. “And to think that they were the ones who wanted to watch this movie.” He shook his head in spite of himself. “Here, I’ll see you out.”
With that, the pair of men made their way to the front door.
“By the way,” Graham said as Brent laced up his shoes, “sorry about my mother. I feel bad that she twisted your arm into coming over today.”
“No apologies necessary,” Brent assured. “And trust me, she didn’t have to twist hard. I had a great time.”
Graham swallowed down a lump that had suddenly found its way into his throat. Why was he suddenly envisioning Brent giving him a goodnight kiss then? “I guess it wasn’t half bad, was it?”
Brent’s lips curled up in a smile. “Sounds like Mistletoe Grove is growing on you.”
Graham fought off the vision of their mouths pressed together. “Not so fast, buster. LA is the place for me, thank you very much.” The remark served as much as a reminder to himself as anything. “Everything I could want is there.”
Neither of them believed it, based on the silence that followed then.
“Well, what do you know?” Brent chimed after a beat of glancing down at his watch. “I’d say we’re just in time.”
The remark shot a nervous tingle through Graham’s system. “Time for what?”
A fiery sparkle lit up Brent’s eyes. “What do you say I show you something I promise you won’t find in LA?”
God, how Graham hated riddles. “That depends.”
Brent quirked an eyebrow. “On?”
“On if it’ll mean I end up as an episode of Dateline.”
The joke drew a laugh from Brent. “Come on, LA boy. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” A mischievous grin twisted his face then. “Unless, that is, you like a little pain…”
Graham felt his heart thud suddenly.
“Relax,” Brent replied with a chuckle. “I’m joking.” He gave Graham a gamely pat on the back. “Coco and your mother will never know we’re gone. Trust me, you’re not going to believe this.”
Somehow, Graham didn’t exactly find that comforting.
* * *
“I knew I was going to regret this.” Blinded by Brent covering his eyes from behind, Graham stumbled his way upwards through the snow.
The comment elicited a scoff. “Come on, you don’t really mean that, do you?” Their bodies pressed close together, Brent guided his hostage carefully.
“I can’t even see where I’m going.” Graham resisted the urge to acknowledge how good Brent’s arms felt wrapped around him.
“Exactly, the element of surprise is what makes it fun.” The tone of Brent’s voice suggested he was enjoying this just a little too much for Graham’s liking.
“Well, in that case,” he responded, “you and I have different definitions of fun.” He ignored the voice deep down that knew he was loving every second of this.
Damn it, Graham. You’ve got it bad.
Patient, Brent continued to steer his sightless captive. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
“Almost where?” Graham asked. This whole not-seeing-where-he-was-going thing was losing its novelty fast. “Where are you taking me?”
A rich scent of sandalwood sent tingles down to Graham’s toes as Brent hovered closely behind. “You’ll find out soon enough, city boy. For now, just chill out and enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, I am plenty chilled,” Graham retorted, the night air seeping into his jacket, “and let me assure you, it is anything but enjoyable.”
“Good thing I’m here, then, to help warm you up.”
Graham could have sworn then he felt Brent’s arms squeeze him tighter.
“You know,” he said, voice jittery, “I don’t usually let people do this to me.”
“Interesting,” Brent replied, guiding their steps, “you’re certainly letting me do it to you.”
Somehow, despite the cold, Graham noticed his palms begin to sweat. Was Brent flirting with him? No, that wasn’t possible.
Was it?
Oh, this was bad.
“Geez, Graham,” Brent said, “I can practically feel your body shaking. Are you this nervous around everyone?”
Just hot guys like you, a voice inside Graham’s head answered before he quickly pressed it down. “I don’t know. Are you this bossy around everyone?”
For a moment, Brent paused their trek up the slope. “Only when I’m trying to impress someone.” He leaned in so close, Graham felt his breath tickle his ear. “How am I doing?”
Graham swallowed a nervous gulp. “Let’s just see how this little surprise of yours pans out.”
“Fair enough,” Brent conceded. “But don’t you worry. This surprise is anything but little.”
Graham suddenly felt himself go weak in the knees. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Keep it together, Graham. Keep it together.
“All right, then,” Brent answered, his voice swelling with pride. “Why don’t you have yourself a look?”
And just like that, he pulled his hand from Graham’s eyes.
“Hoooly cowww.”
Up above their heads, shimmering waves of emerald and indigo danced across the night sky.
“The northern lights,” Graham heard himself say. Nonplussed, he gazed from their hilltop perch at the majestic expanse above.
“Bet you don’t have a view like that in LA.”
Graham felt his whole chest swell at the vastness of the panorama before them. “You’re certainly right about that.”
Though he hated to admit it, now that he knew what a sight Brent had in store for them, he was almost, dare he say, thankful he’d been kidnapped and dragged up here. Had Mistletoe Grove always boasted northern lights like this? He certainly didn’t remember anything like this from when he was younger.
It just went to show—sometimes you really didn’t know what you had until it was gone.
He shifted his eyes briefly to steal a glance at Brent gazing up at the sky, too.
But what he saw instead was Brent gazing back at him.
What happened next, happened instantaneously. By the time Graham registered it, it was already too late to stop.
The next thing he knew, his lips had become pressed against Brent’s.
The whole world—northern lights included—faded away into the distance. He let himself become wrapped in Brent’s strong, confident arms.
All at once, his body felt like it was glowing. On their trek up here, he wouldn’t have dared be so bold as to hope things would lead to this, to locking lips in a deep, passionate kiss with the man he’d only reunited with a day ago but who had occupied his secret thoughts for years.
Now that it was happening, though, Graham couldn’t help but feel like this had always been meant to be.
Sure, he’d heard people talk about the spark they’d felt when they finally met their person. He’d never put any stock in it, though. The idea of fireworks going off when you’d at last found ‘the one,’ that was just a myth.
At least, so he’d thought.
Until now.
His knees practically buckling, he reminded himself to breathe. Back in LA, he’d made out with plenty of men who were, objectively speaking, gorgeous. There was certainly no shortage of them in a place like Tinseltown. Insta-models, up-and-coming actors—they’d all flocked to LA like it was the Promised Land.
And as a result, Graham had the luxury of an endless, all-you-can-eat buffet of smoking hot studs 24/7.
But despite the Colgate smiles, despite the washboard abs, none of the mass-produced Adonises back in West Hollywood had ever managed to give Graham the shiver running down his spine that he was currently experiencing thanks to Brent.
God, his lips tasted magical. Warm. Sweet. Passionate. Better than Graham could have ever thought possible.
Their tongues became intertwined, linking the two men together under the bright, starlit sky. The cold left Graham’s mind completely as the heat between them flared.
Suddenly, a knot took hold in his stomach. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. A mistake like this threatened to undo everything.
He told the voice inside his head to shove it. Whatever fallout arose from this, he’d deal with the consequences later. For now, no way in hell was he going to pass up this fantasy come to life. It was almost too good to be true.
Although, as Graham was about to find out, perhaps it was too good to be true.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, man.”
The sound of Brent’s voice instantly snapped Graham back to reality. “Sorry?” He felt as if his body had entered freefall.
“This was a mistake.”
Brent took a step back to place some distance between them.
He might as well have stepped into a different time zone.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” an anguished Brent continued. “I just—well, I got caught up in the moment. I let myself get carried away.”
The words hit like an anvil in Graham’s stomach. Mad? How could he be mad? Being kissed by Brent was a fantasy he’d dreamt of for as long as he could remember.
“This wasn’t a mistake,” Graham assured. “Not at all.”
Unfortunately, his insistence did little to convince his companion. With a heavy sigh, Brent continued backing away. “Listen, thank you for trying to make me feel better, but don’t. It’s…too confusing.”
“Of course it’s confusing,” Graham replied, his voice becoming increasingly urgent. “Back in high school, we were practically on two separate planets, but somehow, the universe brought us back together.” He motioned up at the northern lights above.
A look of hurt flooded over Brent’s face. “Oh, so now you’re mocking me? I said not to try and make me feel better, Graham. That doesn’t mean you need to be a dickhead.”
At this, Graham felt his heart begin to race. No, Brent, he wanted to say, can’t you see you’ve got it all wrong?
Everything around him started to spin. How could he have ever been so stupid as to resist the way he felt? Now that he’d finally gotten a taste of Brent’s kiss, the truth of his feelings was undeniable.
He had to do something. The question was, what? No matter what he said, it only seemed to make matters worse.
Well, when words failed, there was but one thing to do.
With a whirl of motion, he pulled Brent back and locked their mouths together. Immediately, he felt Brent melt into his embrace.
But once again, the spell was broken as Brent pulled himself away.
“So, wait…you like guys?” Brent’s eyes were as round as a pair of Christmas tree ornaments.
Until he shook himself out of it, that is. “What am I saying? That doesn’t matter. You’re with Coco.” He proceeded to launch into full-on panic mode. “Oh, man, did I fuck up. I can’t come between you and Coco. That would make me—” He let out a horrified gasp. “I’m the other woman.” He began to pace in circles. “This was all a horrible mistake. I should have never taken you up here.”
Without warning, Graham steamrolled into Brent’s path. “Brent, relax. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Brent sputtered in disbelief. “I just kissed you.” He started to hyperventilate.
Graham shook his head in spite of himself. To think he’d once thought of Brent as the confident one, and himself as the hot mess.
Oh, how the tables had turned.
“Just calm down,” he assured.
“Calm down?” Brent repeated, sounding alarmingly close to a mental breakdown. “How am I supposed to be calm right now? You’re spoken for, Graham. And I just played a game of tonsil hockey with you!”
The phrase drew a snort that Graham failed to hide. He grasped the nervous wreck in front of him. He couldn’t believe what he was actually about to do, but unless he wanted to give Brent an existential crisis, there was just one thing to be done.
It was time to come clean.
A nervous grimace spread across his face. “Brent, I have some explaining to do.”
* * *
Brent rubbed his forehead as if he felt a headache coming on. “Let me get this straight. Instead of Coco’s boyfriend, you’re actually her PR handler?”
“Correct.”
“And you’re not really here to celebrate the holidays, but to keep her out of the spotlight so she doesn’t set off another Hollywood tabloid scandal before her big Christmas movie premiere?”
“Right again.”
Brent sucked in a heavy breath as he processed the revelations. “And you’re…gay?”
“As the day is long,” Graham replied with a chuckle.
Brent released his breath with a sigh. “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you had some explaining to do.”
The comment drew a lopsided smile from Graham. “But, hey, good news is you don’t have to worry about being the other woman anymore.” He gave his companion a good-natured punch on the arm.
Brent feigned an attempt at a chuckle.
Turning his gaze skyward, Graham let a beat pass as he took in the northern lights still dancing above. “It wasn’t my intention to lie to you, Brent.” He gave a gentle scoff. “Heck, nothing about this trip so far has been what I planned.” He reached out to take Brent’s hand in his. “You can see, though, why I had to keep things on the down-low, right? Please don’t be upset with me, Brent.”
A long silence passed as Brent bit his lip in thought. “Nah, you had your reasons,” he finally replied.
At this, a full-body sigh let loose from Graham.
Brent scratched his head, contemplating. “I gotta say, though, it sure seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for some job.”
“This isn’t just some job,” Graham hastily corrected. “This would be the job. If I pull this off, Brent, it could be my ticket to the promotion of my dreams.”
Now it was Brent’s turn to scoff. “You’re really something, Graham Bartlett. You know that?”
The remark cocked Graham’s head to the side. “Oh? How so?”
“It was always clear you were going places. Even back in high school, you were top of the honor roll, president of the student council, captain of the debate team. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you chose life in the fast lane.” He also turned his gaze skyward. “I just hope it doesn’t catch up with you one day.”
Graham felt himself bristle at the remark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just that it’s the holidays, Graham, the season of cheer. And you, my friend, are a giant ball of stress.”
“Because for me, Christmas is stress, Brent. I mean, if you had any idea the pile of work on my plate, the amount of pressure I’m under, then let me tell you—”
Brent cleared his throat audibly, and just like that, Graham zipped his lips. Wordless, the pair stood in the quiet.
“You know,” Graham said, breaking the silence, “there used to be a time when I enjoyed the holidays, if you can believe that. Now, all Christmas means is more to do, more people to please, and less time with which to get it all done.”
Brent nodded, considering. “You do know it doesn’t have to be that way, right?”
Graham balked as if he’d just heard a joke.
“I’m serious,” Brent defended. “Take Mistletoe Grove, for instance. Granted, we don’t draw in quite the crowds that we used to, but all things considered, I’d still say the holidays are pretty magical here.”
The comment made Graham’s brow crease. “Don’t you worry, though? Tourists coming to town for the holidays is what’s kept this town alive.” He gazed down at the streets lit up below the hill. He had to give these townies credit—they certainly had persistence. But without anyone coming to soak up Mistletoe Grove’s Christmas spirit, it was clear this town’s days were numbered. “Watching your livelihood disappear before your eyes certainly sounds stressful to me.”
Brent seemed to sober at the remark. “It’s certainly true that, without the holiday crowds in town, The Cozy Mug has definitely taken a hit.” He looked up at the sky as if to seek solace. “But you can’t spend your life worrying, you know? Especially not during the holidays. After all, this is the season of cheer, right?”
Graham nodded absently as his thoughts turned inward. Geez, wouldn’t it be nice to see the world the way Brent did. That was probably just what happened when you lived in Mistletoe Grove—everything in life came at you through rose-colored glasses.
Then again, on the other hand, could it have been that Graham’s years in LA had simply turned everything grey?
Before he could answer the question, though, he found himself shaken from his thoughts by Brent’s voice. “Whatever you’re hoping for out of life in the big leagues, I just hope it’s worth it.”
It felt to Graham as if gravity had just doubled then.
All of a sudden, the two men became distracted by a bright light above. Eyes wide, they turned their faces skyward toward a brilliant flare in the northern lights overhead.
“Wow,” Graham cooed, “that really is beautiful.”
“Not half as beautiful,” responded Brent, “as the guy I’m looking at now.”
Graham felt his cheeks turn crimson as he met eyes with the gorgeous man standing next to him.
At this, Brent bit his lip nervously. “Feel free to say no if you want, but what do you say we take this back to my place?”
Graham didn’t think he’d ever said yes so fast in his life.
* * *
Back to my place. There was no doubt about what that meant in LA. Here, though—well, that was a different story. Mistletoe Grove was so pure and wholesome, here, getting on your knees probably still meant going to church.
Brent, though, was anything but pure. At least, the devilish glint in his eyes as he drove Graham back to his place sure seemed to suggest so.
Which begged the question—where exactly was Brent’s place? Knowing Brent’s Insta-curated lifestyle, he probably lived in some rustic, Christmas-y log cabin, Graham figured.
Hence his surprise just a few minutes later when he found themselves standing out front The Cozy Mug.
“Welcome home,” Brent said with a smile.
Graham arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You live here?”
“Sure do,” Brent replied, oblivious to the apprehension in Graham’s voice. “I’ve got an apartment above the shop. She may not be much, but she’s all mine.”
Graham waited as Brent worked to unlock the shop door. “Somehow, I pictured you hanging your hat in something out of Log Cabin Living or something.” He chortled at his remark.
The laugh, however, went unshared.
“Well, as a matter of fact,” Brent said, suddenly becoming self-conscious, “there was a time I had a cozy little place down by Miller’s Creek…”
A beat of silence passed as Brent seemed to drift off to a far, distant past.
Until, that is, he abruptly shook himself out of it. “But, you know what, it’s a long story. Come on, let’s go inside.” He opened the door for Graham.
Who, deciding it best not to press the matter, proceeded promptly over the threshold.
His body felt warmer instantly. And not just because they were no longer outside. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about entering Brent’s humble, little hot cocoa shop seemed to take the chill off in more ways than one.
He eyed through the darkness the rows of clean mugs stacked lovingly behind the bar. The collection of chairs turned up on the café tabletops. The empty bakery cabinet ready for a fresh delivery of tomorrow morning’s goodies. This was The Cozy Mug that most people didn’t get a chance to see.
The Brent Danvers that most people didn’t get a chance to see.
Taking in the empty shop prepped for the morning ahead, it was clear the love Brent poured into this place. It couldn’t have been easy, either—running a shop like this single-handedly.
A small pang of guilt registered deep in Graham’s stomach then. As silly as it was, a whole shop dedicated to hot cocoa, perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss something that had so clearly sparked Brent’s passion.
“So, why hot cocoa?”
Brent quirked his head as if he’d just heard a string of gibberish. “What do you mean?”
Graham shrugged self-consciously, hoping he hadn’t just offended his host. “Well, it’s just that it’s a bit…I mean, you have to admit it’s kind of…What I mean to say is, doesn’t it feel a little…”
“Silly?” Brent finally finished.
“Those are your words,” Graham protested, “not mine.”
Brent shook his head in spite of himself. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended.” He motioned for Graham to take a seat with him at the bar. “In fact, that’s exactly what I love about hot cocoa.”
Graham furrowed his brow as he sat himself next to Brent. “Come again?”
At this, Brent smirked playfully.
Graham just rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Chastened, Brent furrowed his brow in thought. “It’s like this. Hot cocoa—it isn’t anything special, it isn’t anything fancy. Heck, you can get it in a powder. And that’s all people ever think it can be—just a simple, boring drink that hasn’t been worth getting excited over since we were twelve. But that’s not true, Graham. If you actually take the time, you find out that hot cocoa can be so much more than what people give it credit for.”
He took a centering breath. “I guess what I find interesting about hot cocoa is, it’s underestimated.” He cast his gaze around the empty shop, eventually meeting eyes with his guest. “Kind of like Mistletoe Grove, I suppose.”
A beat of silence passed as Graham processed Brent’s words.
“But the thing is,” he went on, “once you learn not to overlook us—it—you see that hot cocoa’s still got a lot to give. You just have to give it a chance.”
Their eye contact broke abruptly as, embarrassed, Brent averted his gaze downward. “Sorry, that must be about the corniest thing you’ve ever heard, right?”
The corners of Graham’s lips curled up in a smile. “It is,” he admitted. “But you know what? It’s also just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, too.” He leaned in and claimed Brent’s mouth with a kiss.
During which he also claimed another part of Brent’s anatomy by inserting a hand between his legs. “You make me want to do unspeakable things, Brent.”
Judging by the twitch Graham felt then underneath Brent’s jeans, clearly his companion liked the sound of that. He began to slowly massage the increasingly firm bulge growing under Brent’s denim.
“Not here,” Brent said. He gripped Graham’s wrist to pause the tantalizing foreplay. “Someone could see.” He flicked a glance toward the large shop windows.
“Doesn’t bother me,” Graham replied with a wicked eyebrow wiggle.
Brent just shook his head to himself. “Come on, tiger. I’m taking you upstairs.”
“Meow.”
“Provided you never say that again.”
Bright red flooded Graham’s cheeks. “Noted.”
Smiling, Brent shook his head to himself. “Follow me.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Christmas Under Wraps, Part 6
A Cozy M/M Small Town Holiday Romance
Blood pumped through Graham’s body at a mile a minute—and all of it headed for a single destination.
“Fuck, your lips taste amazing.” Brent ravaged Graham’s mouth as if it was an addiction. “I could do this all night, baby.”
Graham felt his heart skip a beat. Baby. God, that sounded good coming out of Brent’s mouth.
It still didn’t feel real, that he was here with his secret high school crush, reunited after years apart, playing—as Brent had so poetically phrased it earlier—a game of tonsil hockey in his bed.
If only his younger self could have seen him now.
Brent hadn’t been lying about his apartment being humble. Still, though, something about its down-to-earth atmosphere was, dare Graham say, charming.
“If only you knew how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Graham managed to get out between kisses. “But, damn, was this worth the wait.”
The question was, was this worth the risk? As in, the risk he was taking in letting himself get distracted. From the start, he’d had one simple rule—keep your eyes on the prize.
Right now, though, his eyes were occupied with a considerably more urgent sight.
With one fluid motion, Brent whipped off his shirt. Mesmerized, Graham swallowed a gulp. Geez, with moves like that, this guy could’ve starred in Magic Mike.
And that wasn’t even counting the physique revealed underneath his shirt. Every inch of Brent’s upper half was carved from marble. Biceps that had been tugging at his sleeves all night. Bulging pecs that Graham longed to nestle his head between. Rock-hard torso paving the way to a treasure further south. Brent would have been the envy of any Insta-gay back in LA.
Graham licked his lips hungrily. “God, I want to kiss you all over.”
A roguish smile appeared on Brent’s face. “I’m certainly not going to stop you.”
Graham didn’t need to be told that twice.
Tangled on the bed, their bodies moved as one as Graham pressed himself into the man he was no longer able to resist. The salt of Brent’s skin lingered on his lips as he proceeded to devour every last inch of him.
Up against Brent’s chest, Graham savored the view of the dim light casting shadows across his physique. Holy hell, Graham. You’ve dreamt of this guy since you were a teenager.
“Why did we wait so long to do this, Graham?”
He raised his head to give Brent a kiss. “I was just about to ask you the same.”
A devilish glint lit up Brent’s eyes. “Well, let’s not wait any longer.” He pushed Graham’s head down toward his waist.
“Yes, sir.” Graham licked his lips in anticipation.
Pulse racing, he unzipped Brent’s pants. At the rate his heart was pounding, it felt liable to burst out his chest any moment.
And speaking of things that were ready to burst out…
Graham eyed the Mount Everest tenting up Brent’s underwear between his open fly. Jesus Christ, what was this guy packing under there? A bazooka?
“Look what you do to me,” Brent said, bedroom eyes locked on Graham.
Never mind that. How about what you can do to me with that thing? He felt his mouth begin to salivate.
Lowering himself, he planted a kiss of the tip of Brent’s cock through the cotton of his underwear. Already, precum had begun to leak through.
“Fuuuuuck.” Brent let his head fall back in pleasure. “I need that mouth on my cock.”
The comment drew a smile from Graham. “All in good time.” After how long he’d waited for this, no way was he about to rush.
Tingles coursing through his body, he gripped the hard rod bulging beneath Brent’s briefs. God, how he’d fantasized about this cock—about this man.
He registered a firmness growing then below his own belt. Unbuttoning his pants, he allowed the tent in his underwear to spring out between his fly.
A hungry, wolflike glint lit up on Brent’s face as he took in the sight of Graham’s bulge. “I’ve got an idea.” Flipping Graham onto his back, he positioned himself on top. “You like that, baby?”
Graham took in the view of Brent hovering above, their two hard cocks rubbing against each other through their underwear. He nodded as he inhaled a gasp.
“I’ll take it that means yes.” He continued grinding themselves together, driving his cock sensually against Graham’s, their members separated by nothing but cotton.
Graham registered a tingle at the tip of his manhood. “Fuck, if you keep that up, I’m going to cum, stud.”
“Not yet, you’re not.” Brent pulled himself off Graham to grant him reprieve.
A beat of silence passed as the two men lay side-by-side.
“All right, hot shot. Now I’ve got an idea.” Sitting up, Graham pulled Brent’s pants the rest of the way off. “What do you say we let this guy out?” He traced his fingers along the shaft bulging under Brent’s briefs.
The desire in Brent’s eyes then left no room for doubt. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Graham could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat. Slowly, he reached for Brent’s waistband.
“Go on.” Brent’s voice dripped with lust. “Take it out.”
Cracking a smile, Graham inched Brent’s briefs down carefully.
A dark patch of pubic hair.
A thick, firm base.
A fat, long, tapered shaft.
And finally, the moment he’d been waiting for. Stretched to its limit, Brent’s waistband revealed the final inch of his cock. His beautiful, glorious, mouthwatering cock.
“Holy fuck.”
Slack-jawed, Graham stared in awe at the appendage before him. Here he was, reunited with the crush of his high school fantasies, admiring the view of his stiff, hard erection.
“This what you hoped for?”
Graham licked his lips hungrily. “Everything and more.” Slow and steady, he began to stroke Brent’s rod.
Instantly, Brent’s breath became ragged. “Damn.” Hypnotized, he watched as Graham pumped him.
“This has got to be the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” Graham said as he stroked. Just the sight of the plump, pink tip capping the mammoth rod—still oozing drips of precum—was enough to send him over the edge. “And it’s hard as a fucking rock.”
“All thanks to you, babe.”
The reply sent a thrill through Graham’s body. “I knew you’d be trouble, Brent Danvers.”
That earned him a grin. Brent exhaled slowly as Graham continued working his meat. “You must really like stroking dick, huh?”
“I guess your cock does something to me.”
The comment elicited a smile. “Well, don’t be shy. You’ve seen mine. Now let’s see yours.”
A rush of adrenaline surged through Graham. “Yes, sir.” He moved to pull down his underwear.
Only to be stopped the next moment by Brent. “Not like this. I want to watch you.”
The directive appeared to leave Graham confused.
“Come on, babe. Put on a show for me.”
A wave of fear and excitement crashed inside Graham’s chest. Put on a show? “I don’t know. I’m really not much of a performer.”
The look on Brent’s face said he didn’t buy that for a minute. “And here I thought you were going to be my good boy.”
Graham could’ve sworn his heart literally fluttered.
“A good boy does what he’s told, Graham. Understood?”
Well, that settled it, then.
“Yes, sir.” The phrase came out with even more enthusiasm this time.
“Good.” Brent nodded approvingly. “Up against the wall. And lose those pants.”
Standing to his feet, Brent positioned himself at the foot of the bed, adrenaline and terror mixing within him. He didn’t know how to give a strip tease. And now he was supposed to perform his first one for the guy who’d fueled his wet dreams since puberty?
Geez, talk about performance anxiety.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Brent said, as if sensing Graham’s nerves. “It’s just you and me.”
Comforted, Graham tossed Brent a lopsided smile.
Which then gave way to a wickedly sinful grin.
“Hell, yeah.” Brent leaned back on his bed to take in the show.
To Graham’s surprise, he wasn’t half bad at performing, if he did say so himself. And not only that, but he also found himself enjoying it.
Brent licked his lips hungrily at the sight of Graham swaying in his briefs before him. “God, that body is sexy.”
At this, Graham felt himself blush. Truth be told, he’d always thought of himself as average at best. Keeping up with the gays in West Hollywood who worked out like it was their religion was a tall order indeed.
“Lower your hands to your dick.”
The command gave Graham goosebumps. “I thought you’d never ask.” He began to massage his cock through his briefs.
Manhood throbbing, he took a mental inventory of the scene. Here he was, back in his cozy New England hometown, three-thousand miles away from the hustle of LA, being eye-fucked by the All-American jock of his high school fantasies.
Apparently, dreams did come true.
“I want to see it, Graham. Do you want to show it to me?”
“You know I do, stud.”
Slowly, he inched his briefs down his waist.
And as his cock popped out, he could have almost sworn he saw Brent’s eyes pop out, too.
“Fuck, who could have guessed that nerdy Graham Bartlett was working with a pipe like that.”
The compliment turned Graham red. “Thanks. I, uh, grew it myself.”
“Stroke it.”
Graham felt his pulse tick up. “Is that what you want?”
“Be my slut, Graham.”
He certainly couldn’t say no to that. He began to stroke the length of his cock for Brent.
“You like what you see, stud?”
“You know I do, babe.”
Fuck, Graham, this must be a dream, he thought to himself. Being shamelessly ogled by the hottest guy from back in school? He felt like he ought to pinch himself.
“Time to switch it up,” Brent instructed. “Spin around. Let me see that ass.”
A devilish grin spread on Graham’s face. That was a request he was happy to fulfill.
“Fuck, baby, what a beautiful pink hole,” Brent said as Graham spread his cheeks wide. He began to crawl toward him at the foot of the bed like a jungle cat stalking its prey.
The next thing Graham knew, he was overcome with a shockwave of pleasure as Brent dove headfirst into his cheeks.
“Holy fuck.”
Brent ate Graham’s hole ravenously, insatiably. Like he was devouring a goddamn three-course meal.
“Jesus Christ,” Graham panted, “you feel amazing.”
“And you,” Brent replied as he came up for air, “taste amazing.” He shoved his face back into Graham’s ass.
Back arched, Graham released a moan at the tickle of Brent’s trim, prickly beard brushing up against his sensitive entrance.
Brent worked his tongue masterfully, twirling it without mercy across Graham’s pucker, occasionally biting down with just the right pressure.
“Forget stuffing stockings,” Brent remarked. “I’d much rather stuff this.”
The comment sent a thrill up Graham’s spine. How did Brent manage to make even a come-on that corny still sound sexy as fuck?
Gripping Graham’s hips for leverage, Brent continued to tongue-fuck like a demon unleashed. “You’re an even bigger sub bottom than I expected, Graham.”
Graham wasn’t sure which pair of cheeks were redder in that moment.
“Although,” Brent went on, “this cock of yours is pretty insane, too.” He reached around from behind to begin stroking Graham as he continued eating his ass.
Graham steadied himself against the wall for support. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”
Brent milked his cock slowly, his grip traveling all the way from head to hilt. “You like that, baby?”
A desperate head nod was all Graham could manage. The dual sensations of Brent’s hand stroking his cock and Brent’s mouth devouring his hole sent his eyes rolling back in his head. “Fuck, I’m getting close, Brent.”
At this, Brent leapt to his feet and spun Graham around to face him. “If we’re going to cum, baby, we’re going to cum together.” Positioning their hard-ons alongside one another, he pumped them side-by-side.
The sight of their erections against each other sent a rush coursing through Graham’s system. Fuck, was this a beautiful view. It was like their two cocks belonged together.
A wave of pleasure rose up in him. “Oh, fuck, Brent. I’m gonna cum.”
A devilish gleam flashed in Brent’s eyes. “Fuck yeah, baby. I want to see you cum for me.” He began to pump their dicks double-time.
Graham tossed his head back, helpless. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”
Brent picked up his speed further. “Show me that load, Graham.”
The next thing Graham knew, a great swell came over him. He swallowed down hard. Here it was. The point of no return.
“Fuuuuuccccckkkkk!”
A thick jet of cum shot out of him then, splattering across Brent’s fuzzy torso before him.
To be followed in short order by a climax of Brent’s own.
“Fuck, Graham. I’m cumming.”
Warm jizz painted Graham’s chest up to his neck.
Spent, the two men met eyes, panting in equal measure as the intensity gave way.
“Damn, that was hot.” Brent planted Graham with a kiss.
“You’re telling me.”
The two shared a smile.
“I’ll go grab us some towels.”
Nodding, Graham watched Brent’s backside as he took his leave from the room. How on Earth did I get this lucky?
Unfortunately, his afterglow was not destined to last long. No sooner had Brent left the room than Graham found himself jarred back to reality by an all-too-familiar buzz coming from his crumpled pants on the floor.
He sighed under his breath. “Seriously? At this hour?”
Well, if someone was indeed calling him at midnight, it must have been important.
This had better be good, he thought to himself as he fished his phone out from his pants.
The name on his caller ID prompted a groan. “Again?” He punched the answer icon. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Orlando?”
“Sorry, boss,” came the voice across the line. “Mr. Burns is getting impatient again. I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
Graham checked his missed calls. Sure enough, he had no fewer than eleven from Orlando throughout the day.
“What in the name of Barbra Streisand has been keeping you so busy, boss?”
The line fell silent as Graham found himself distracted by Brent’s naked silhouette down the hall.
“Uh, boss? You there?”
Graham shook himself out of it. “Sorry, Orlando. Now’s not really a good time.”
He could practically hear Orlando’s wry oh-I-am-so-on-to-you grin across the line. “I see. So you have been seeing that guy.”
Instantly, Graham felt his blood pressure spike. “I most absolutely have not.”
“You know, for an up-and-coming PR executive, you’re a terrible liar.”
“I do not need this from you right now, Orlando.”
Just then, Brent’s voice sounded down the hall. “What was that?”
The question clenched Graham’s stomach. “Nothing!”
A scandalized gasp ensued over the phone. “Oh, my god. You’re with him now.” A brief pause followed as Orlando connected the dots. “Wait, did you two just…?”
“That’s none of your concern, Orlando.”
“So you did!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Is he hot?”
“Orlando, that is—”
“He is, isn’t he?”
“All right, Orlando.”
“Was it good?”
“Orlando!”
“Are you going to do it again?”
“ORLANDO!”
“What? I’m just trying to take an interest in my boss’s wellbeing.”
“Well, take less of an interest, please. I know professional boundaries aren’t exactly your strong suit, but can we at least pretend to have some semblance of a normal working relationship?”
“Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve been wound tighter lately than those pants you wear to Coco’s publicity events.”
Graham tried unsuccessfully to stifle a groan. “They’re good pants, darn it—no matter what the two of you say.”
“My point is, it’s good that you’re cutting loose a bit over the holidays. There’s no harm in getting some action, Graham. Lord knows you need it.”
Graham scoffed in offense. “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.” He felt clarity begin to set in. What had he been thinking? Allowing himself to do the horizontal mambo with his old high school crush when he was supposed to be keeping tabs on Coco? Was he trying to sabotage himself?
“You there, boss?”
Again, Graham shook himself out of it. “You just tell Mr. Burns he has nothing to worry about. Everything—and I mean everything—is under control. Now, goodnight, Orlando.” He punched the end call button.
And not a moment too soon, either. From down the hall, he detected the sound of Brent’s footsteps. Quickly, he stashed his phone out of sight under a bed pillow.
“Were you just on the phone?”
Teeth clenched, Graham shook his head.
Brent narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “That’s funny. I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone.”
Jittery, Graham began collecting his clothes. “You know what, I think I’d better go.”
Disbelief filled Brent’s face. “You don’t want to shower first?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He pulled his shirt over himself.
Brent gave an accepting shrug. “Well, how about a cup of hot cocoa before you go?”
Graham avoided eye contact as he pulled up his pants. “Sorry, I’ve really got to get going.”
His companion scratched his head, confused. “What’s the rush?”
“I’ve just got to go.”
Brent’s bow furrowed deep with concern. “Geez, was I that bad?”
The response came matter-of-fact. “Goodnight, Brent.”
And just like that, Graham headed for the exit.
Only to find himself blocked by a still buck naked Brent inserting himself in his path. He resisted the urge to steal another glance at the appendage hanging in front of him.
“Hold up, buster. I’d say you’ve got some explaining to do—again, I might add.”
Graham grumbled under his breath. “Brent, there’s really nothing to say.”
“Nothing to say?” Brent’s face turned incredulous. “We just had some of the best sex that either of us have had in quite some time, I suspect, at least based on how you were moaning like a goddamn pornstar five minutes ago. And suddenly you’re halfway out the door, just like that? With no explanation?”
Almost as if on cue, a buzzing began to vibrate from under one of the pillows.
Instantly, Graham felt his blood turn icy. Shit!
“That’s funny,” Brent said as he approached the bed. “I could have sworn I left my phone on the nightstand.” Lifting up the pillow, he uncovered Graham’s phone, humming with an incoming call. “Orlando, eh?” Hurt flooded over his face. “So that’s the explanation.”
Quickly, Graham snatched away his phone. “It’s not what you think, Brent.”
His companion just scoffed bitterly. “Uh-huh. How many times have you used that line before?”
Graham felt himself spiral into panic. “Listen, Brent. I can explain.”
“Save it. First, you lie about being together with Coco. Then, you lie about being single. Your whole life, Graham, is nothing but lies.” Sighing, he stepped aside from the doorway. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a big shot in LA. What do you care what some dumb, small-town nobody thinks of you? You’re going places. Me? I’m just a simple, boring townie.” He swallowed down hard, as if struggling to go on. “But you don’t have to worry about me anymore. Live your lies, for all I care. Just kindly leave me out of them.” He gestured toward the doorway.
Graham felt like an anvil had just landed in his chest. “Brent, listen. You don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty.”
At this, Graham released a sigh. So that was that. Wordless, he saw himself out. Apparently, this conversation—and with it, any hope of making amends with Brent—were over.
* * *
The house was dark when Graham arrived home. Quietly, he slipped in through the front door. Coco and his mother, fast asleep in the living room when he’d left, were nowhere to be seen.
Shit, he thought to himself. They’d gone up to bed. Which meant they’d been awake to discover his absence. How exactly did he intend to explain that one away?
He heaved a tired sigh. That would be a problem for tomorrow Graham to solve. Kicking off his shoes, he shuffled down to the basement for another night of crashing on the couch.
God, what a mess. And to think how great this night had started. Sneaking out of the house just like they were teenagers again. Taking in a view that belonged in an art museum. Sharing a kiss under the stars that made his blood run hot.
And that wasn’t even counting the sex. Holy fuck, had that been hot. Over the years, Graham had cooked up no shortage of fantasies about his secret high school crush, but he had to admit it, the real deal blew them all out of the water.
It had simply been so…effortless. As if they just instinctively…fit.
It had been some time since he’d had sex like that back in LA.
Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever had sex like that back in LA.
Laying down on the sofa, he shut his eyes and played back the scene in his mind.
Their limbs tangled together.
Mouths pressed against each other.
Dicks standing erect side-by-side.
He registered a firmness beneath his belt then. Shit, maybe he did need a shower. A cold one.
Restless, he sat up to think. Perhaps he should have corrected Brent’s mistake, insisted he let him explain who Orlando in fact really was.
Then again, maybe this was for the best. After all, the promotion of his dreams was on the line—and keeping a wildcard like Coco under control was hard enough already without the added distraction of romance.
Especially a romance that was destined to go up in flames when they had to return to LA come Christmas Day.
He let loose a groan. Yes, Graham, he decided, this is definitely for the best. Brent was a distraction. You’ve come too far to throw this away on him.
Would he have preferred for things to have ended without him looking like a two-timing cheater? Sure. But hey, it got the job done. Based on the look in Brent’s eyes when Graham had left, he didn’t intend on bothering him ever again.
“Good riddance,” Graham scoffed. Lying back down on the couch, he pulled a blanket over himself. Christmas Day—and busting out of this holly, jolly backwater—could not come soon enough.
* * *
The smell of fresh coffee greeted Graham as he showed himself in the kitchen the next morning.
“There he is,” chimed his mother as she deposited a steaming mug into his hands.
Coco eyed his zombie-like face as he downed his first swig. “Geez, by the looks of it, you could use that.”
He shot her a vicious glare.
“Someone sure was out late last night,” his mother prodded. “And sleeping in the basement when you’ve got a nice, warm bed with Coco upstairs?”
Graham heaved a sigh as he set his mug down on the counter. Here we go. “I, uh, didn’t want to wake you up, darling. I know what a light sleeper you can be.” He shot her a warning glare.
“What were you boys doing out so late?” his mother continued.
The question made Graham’s pulse tick up. “Oh, nothing. I mean, it was just me.”
“Just you?” his mother asked. “Graham, don’t you realize it’s dangerous being out at night alone?”
He responded with an eye roll. “I think I can handle the mean streets of Mistletoe Grove, Mom.” He shrugged at them both. “I was just having trouble falling asleep, so I decided to get some fresh air. Simple as that.”
At this, Coco narrowed her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep, eh? Something—or someone—on your mind?”
He shot her another warning glance. “Just my attentive, faithful and loyal girlfriend.”
Coco blew out a scoff. “You talking about a girl or a golden retriever?”
A roguish glint lit up Graham’s eyes. “Well, now that you mention it, she does have a knack for acting like a—”
“Graham!” his mother cut off. “Need I remind you whose kitchen you’re standing in right now?”
Silent, he glowered at Coco smirking at the scolding he’d just received like he was a child again.
“Well, regardless,” his mother broke the silence, “I’m glad to see you boys getting along so well.”
Graham tried and failed to stifle a scoff. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”
His mother’s perennial glow seemed to dim. “Oh? What makes you say that?”
The question put Graham on edge. “Any reason why you have such a vested interest in what Brent and I think of each other?” He made a show of cozying up to Coco, giving his best impression of heterosexuality.
His mother raised her hands to claim innocence. “I just think it’s good when two fine, young men reconnect.”
Graham’s face darkened as he turned his head away. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think I’m going to be seeing much of Brent anymore.”
A concerned glance passed between Coco and Carol.
“Well, hopefully whatever happened between you boys will work itself out.” Carol wrapped her arms around her two guests as if to raise the room’s spirits. “Now, come on, gang. Let’s cut the long faces, shall we?” She patted them both on their behinds. “Go upstairs and get ready. We’ve got shopping to do!”
The magic words perked Coco up instantly. “Shopping?”
Graham swallowed down the dread he felt rising all of a sudden. Shopping at Christmas with Coco and his mother?
This called for something much stronger than coffee.
* * *
For all her earlier excitement about their shopping excursion, the trio’s arrival at their destination left Coco considerably less enthused.
“Marjorie’s Thrift ’n’ Gift?” she read the shop window sign in disbelief. “We’re shopping secondhand?”
“Of course,” Carol replied, locking the car with her key fob. “Everyone knows the best holiday sweaters come from places like this.”
The response turned Graham slack-jawed. “Holiday sweaters? Please tell me you’re joking.”
At this, his mother propped her hands on her hips. “I most certainly am not. What would my annual Christmas party be without a little gay apparel?”
Something about the way she said those last words made Graham’s stomach squirm.
There was no chance to protest, though. The next thing Graham knew, Carol had hooked arms with Coco and himself. “Come on, let’s go inside. I promise this’ll be fun!”
They were interrupted then by a voice from down the block.
“Carol!”
It was Mayor Pickering, his loyal—not to mention lumbering—companion Oscar at his side.
Graham felt himself tense up at the sight of the pair instantly.
Unlike his mother, who had simultaneously melted into a puddle.
“Mayor Pickering, what a surprise!” She primped her hair demurely. “Kids, why don’t you head in without me. I’ll catch up.”
Graham sensed his blood pressure rise. “But, Mom, this was all your…”
One more look at Oscar—in all his clumsy, sloppy, and drool-covered glory—though, was all Graham needed to reconsider his protest. “You know what, take your time.” He hooked arms with Coco. “Come on, darling. It’s time I introduce you to a little something called synthetic fiber.”
* * *
Safe inside Marjorie’s Thrift ’n’ Gift, Graham found himself thankful to have evaded another run-in with Mistletoe Grove’s resident hundred-and-fifty-pound slobber factory. And to his surprise, Coco seemed to be rather enjoying herself, too.
Admittedly, it was hard not to find a place like this charming. Graham recalled it from his childhood. A family-owned business that had anchored Mistletoe Grove for as long as anyone could remember, Marjorie’s Thrift ’n’ Gift was an emporium filled with enough gently used holiday knick knacks to put Santa’s North Pole castle to shame.
“Look at this, Graham,” Coco said, holding up a vintage snow globe. “I’ll tell you what, you won’t find a place like this on Rodeo Drive.”
He released a genuine chuckle. “You’re certainly right about that.” Who would have thought? A genuine Hollywood material girl shopping markdowns?
She flipped the globe upside-down to inspect the price tag. “You’d also never find prices like this on Rodeo Drive.”
Graham stifled a bemused snort. Still, he had to agree. Even for a place like Marjorie’s, this merchandise was priced to sell. “I think I know why everything here is so cheap.” He nodded toward a sign above a rack:
Going Out of Business Sale!
A shadow fell over Coco’s face. “What a shame.”
Graham heaved an accepting shrug. “Are you surprised? Look around. The height of the holiday shopping season, and this place is practically empty.”
Coco sighed as she took stock of the lonely store. Despite the festive ornaments, cards, decorations, and more bedecking every square inch of this place, without a crowd of shoppers around, hunting for their next cherished holiday treasure, the whole place felt…depressing. “I just wish there was something we could do, you know?”
The remark set Graham on edge. Coco getting ideas was never a good sign.
Thankfully, their conversation shifted as Coco’s eye caught sight of Carol and the Mayor through the window. “Or maybe, we ought to do something about them.”
The view of his mother outside with the Mayor, giggling like a schoolgirl again, turned his stomach sour. “I’d love to, but restraining orders just get so messy.”
Coco swatted him on the arm. “Be serious, Graham. Those two are majorly into each other.”
A beat of silence passed as he watched the movement of the Mayor’s and his mother’s lips through the windowpane. As much as he hated to admit it, Coco was right indeed. The spark that lit between them as they chatted out front was undeniable.
He shook himself out of it. “Don’t you go getting ideas, Coco. My mother’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
“Then why hasn’t she made a move on the Mayor after all these years?”
“How should I know? One thing I do know, though, is that she doesn’t need your help.”
“But just look at them, Graham. They’re perfect for each other.”
“Coco, it was bad enough that you tried to set Brent and me up. I do not need you playing matchmaker for my mother now, too.”
She accepted defeat with a grumble. “How a place as jolly as Mistletoe Grove produced a sourpuss like you, I’ll never understand.”
“Truly one of life’s great mysteries.” He took a centering breath. “Come on, we’re here to shop for sweaters, aren’t we? Let’s get this over with.”
She rubbed her hands together. “I can’t wait to see what they’ve got in cashmere!”
Sighing, Graham turned his face heavenward. Eyes on the prize, Bartlett.
* * *
Upon the discovery of their target department, Graham felt a wave of vertigo. When it came to holiday sweaters, Marjorie’s Thrift ’n’ Gift had undeniably cornered the market.
“Geez,” Coco gaped at the maze of racks stuffed to overflowing with reams of festive garb. “I think we might be here a while.”
Graham released an audible groan. “Oh, goody.”
With that, the pair set to task.
“So,” Coco began casually as she pretended to peruse the racks, “speaking of Brent…”
Graham felt his hackles raise. “Were we?”
She leveled him a glare. “You don’t really expect me to believe you were out by yourself last night?”
“I told you,” he countered as he flipped through sweaters just a hair too quickly to be convincing, “I went out to get some air.”
Coco shot him one of her oh-you-must-be-kidding-me looks. “Hey, what about this one for you?” She held up a sweater with the message Sleigh All Day.
He rolled his eyes at her. “A little on the nose, wouldn’t you say?”
She returned the sweater to the rack. “There’s no shame in it, you know.”
“Fine, you wear the sweater then.”
“Not the sweater, Graham.” She grumbled like she was talking to a child. “I meant there’s no shame if you spent the night with Brent.”
Exasperated, Graham propped his arms on his hips. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not likely,” she said with a smirk.
He let loose a groan. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy, then yes, as a matter of fact, I did go out with Brent last night.”
A squeal of delight burst forth from Coco.
“Shh!” Graham threw his hands over her mouth. “Don’t go getting excited, because it’s not happening again.”
The response turned Coco crestfallen. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it never should have happened in the first place! I’m here to do a job, Coco, not stir up an old flame that should’ve died out years ago.”
A wry grin twisted on Coco’s lips then. “So you do like him.” She held up another sweater. This one’s festive greeting: Jingle All the Gay.
“I thought you were supposed to have good taste in fashion.”
She shrugged as she returned the sweater to the rack. “I’m working with limited resources, darling. And don’t try to change the subject.”
Graham released a reluctant sigh. “Look, Coco. Brent’s a nice guy. No one’s arguing that. But him and me? It’d never work out. We live in two completely different worlds.”
“Well, sure, for now.”
Graham responded with an eye roll. “And into the foreseeable future.”
“Aww, come on, Graham! Just think how romantic it would be.” Seizing his hands in hers, she gazed into the distance.
He pulled his fists away. “I don’t care how romantic it would be, Coco. The fact of the matter is, you and I are only here ’til Christmas. Now, I have worked too hard for this promotion to throw my shot at it away on a guy that I’m just now seeing for the first time in over a decade. So save your breath, toots, ’cause no matter how bad you want to, you can’t make fetch happen.” He pulled a sweater off the rack. “Say, this one’s not bad.”
A frustrated grumble followed from Coco. “Men. Gay, straight, you’re all the same—just a bunch of stubborn Neanderthals.”
Graham paused before making his way to the fitting room. “Just be thankful I’m not evolved enough to have the good sense to let you fend for yourself. There are times I think I must have gone temporarily insane when I agreed to go along with this charade.”
“Oh, Graham.” Coco shook her head. “Your insanity is anything but temporary.”
He chose not to attempt a response.
* * *
Steaming, Graham made his way to the fitting room. Who does that conniver think she is? He’d given her what she’d wanted, hadn’t he? Told her the truth about his whereabouts last night, that is. Wasn’t that enough?
Clearly, it was not. If anything, Graham’s confession had served only to further encourage Coco’s antics.
Well, if she still thought Graham was going to take this lying down, he was sorry to say she had another thing coming.
Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he’d made up his mind that he was over Brent. After all, now that they’d had sex—even if they hadn’t gone quite all the way—Brent no longer held that elusive mystique, that allure of the unknown that had held Graham captivated.
He arrived at the fitting room feeling lighter. Him, obsessed over Brent? Please. That guy was simply something Graham needed to get out of his system. He’d probably barely notice him if he happened to cross paths with him again.
You’re finally free, Graham, old boy. From here on out, it’ll be nothing but smooth sailing.
He pulled back the curtain to the fitting room. The sight revealed before him shot his heart up into his throat.
Standing behind the curtain was none other than Brent, his bare, hairy, and muscular chest fully on display.
Graham registered his mother’s voice approaching behind him. “Oh, look, Graham. You boys picked out matching sweaters!”
His panicked eyes flicked between the red and green argyle sweater in Brent’s hand and the one he held in his own.
Shit.
TO BE CONTINUED
Bjorn Wilde 