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Life is Good

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Dave Rossi knew he had a good life. He was financially secure, he had a nice house and nice cars, he had a high level of job satisfaction, he was relatively famous, and he had a devoted relationship with a sexy and intelligent younger lover. He also had a large and loving family, most of whom were still speaking to him despite the fact that at fifty-three years of age, he'd come out as bisexual and introduced them to Spencer. And at this particular moment, he was having a nice late morning in bed, secure in the knowledge that their team wasn't on call for another forty-eight hours.

Of course, life could be better.

Dave rolled over to snuggle against Spencer and discovered only a Spencer-sized warm spot in the bed. He groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, but he finally lost the battle with his bladder and got out of bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom he wandered out of the bedroom, still in his pajamas and robe. If Spencer was up, there was going to be fresh coffee somewhere.

The kitchen was empty, though the coffee-maker carafe was half-full. Dave poured himself a mug, then went wandering through the house, making generally for Spencer's study. When he didn't find Spencer there, he hummed in confusion and wandered through the rest of the house. No Spencer.

By that time, he'd finished his coffee, so he stopped in the bedroom to pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then swung by the kitchen for a mug-up. Next he went out to the back deck, where Spencer liked to read sometimes. From the empty deck he scanned the backyard, not seeing Spencer anywhere.

"What the hell," he muttered, confused. He couldn't remember Spencer saying he had any plans for first thing Saturday morning, and usually they left each other notes, anyway. Dave was just starting to feel the first pangs of...well, not worry, but definitely curiosity that was edging into concern.

Then he heard a metallic clatter and a string of swear words from the garage, and grinned.

Oh, right. Spencer was changing the oil or something on that monster car of his.

Dave bolted the rest of his coffee, then headed for the garage. His steps turned stealthy as he reached the open overhead door, and then he sneaked around to get a very nice view of Spencer's skinny ass in a pair of ratty jeans. His t-shirt was riding up, baring a strip of pale skin at the small of his back. At least he was wearing shoes. One trip to the emergency room after he stepped on a screw had cured him of the habit of going barefoot in the garage.

Dave watched for a moment to make sure Spencer wasn't doing anything but peering under the hood, then he walked up behind him and pressed his groin against Spencer's ass. Spencer let out a hiss, then said calmly, "Mr. Trudeau, I told you not to come to Dave's house, or he'll get suspicious."

Dave burst out laughing at the thought of his eighty-year-old neighbor accosting Spencer in the garage. "Good advice," he murmured, sliding his arm around Spencer's waist and pulling him back more firmly so he could feel Dave's half-hard cock. "It would be a shame if I had to kill the old guy in a jealous rage."

"What can I say," Spencer murmured, sounding breathless. "I think he has even more money than you do." He wiggled his ass very satisfactorily against Dave's arousal. Dave hummed and kissed Spencer's skin where it was bared by the too-large neck of his ratty t-shirt.

"You mercenary minx," he said, and bit.

Spencer gasped and pushed back against Dave, grinding shamelessly. "It's called evil genius," he panted.

Dave grinned and reached down to pop open Spencer's fly, then slid his hand in to curl tightly around his lover's long, hard cock. "If you were really banging Mr. Trudeau, he'd have keeled over with a heart attack by now," he said, rubbing himself against Spencer's ass. "God, I love your ass in jeans."

"You love my ass, full stop," Spencer returned. He was gripping the front of the car and finally turned his head to give Dave a heavy-lidded look. "Why don't you do something about it?"

"You mean besides make you come in your jeans?" Dave whispered, and nibbled at Spencer's earlobe. "Don't worry, I'm planning to." He seized Spencer's mouth with his own, kissing him hungrily enough to earn a long moan.

As they kissed, he ran his thumb over the leaking head of Spencer's cock, spreading precome around with just a hint of teasing. Then he started stroking in earnest, matching the thrusts of his hips. The friction from his own jeans--worn without boxers this morning--made him groan. Spencer's hips were bucking, and Dave could tell his lover wasn't going to last long.

He worked his free hand between them to unfasten his jeans just as Spencer cried out his name and came, spilling over Dave's hand inside his jeans.

"God, you're hot," Dave panted, and shoved Spencer's jeans down roughly. A moment later he was slicking his own cock with Spencer's come as Spencer, still gripping the front of the car, spread his legs and presented his ass in a very appealing invitation.

Dave shoved inside without any further ado, tearing a loud whimper from Spencer's throat, first of surprise and then of pleasure as Dave's first thrust hit his prostate. God it felt good, that tight heat surrounding Dave's cock along with the spasmodic clenching of Spencer's muscles around him. "So fucking sexy," Dave gasped, thrusting relentlessly. Spencer's noises were gaining in pitch, and Dave could feel his own pleasure spiking in response. It only took a couple of minutes of hard thrusting before Dave came, groaning loudly, and slumped against Spencer's back.

"God," Spencer panted, turning his head to kiss Dave's cheek. "Every time. Every time I work on the car, you end up mauling me over the hood." He sounded utterly pleased.

"It's those damn jeans," Dave growled. "You do know there's a hole in the ass, don't you?" And every time his sexy, wanton lover worked on the car, he wore his holey-ass jeans with no underwear so Dave could see bare skin peeking through.

Spencer laughed in delight. "I love you," he murmured, looping an arm back around Dave's neck and kissing him again.

Dave let his cock slide out of Spencer, then guided them both back to slump on the step up to the house door. He wrapped his arms around Spencer and closed his eyes. "I love you too," he murmured.

In a few minutes they would go inside and shower, where Spencer would be hard again already and Dave would suck him off under the pounding hot water. Later they would have breakfast and Spencer would complain about not finishing the work on his car, so Dave would call his cousin, who would come over and haul the car off to his garage to be repaired. Later still, since the weather was nice, they might eat lunch on Dthe back deck and possibly snuggle in the hammock.

Yeah. Life was good.