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I smell sex and candy here
Who's that lounging in my chair
Who's that casting devious stares
In my direction
-Marcy Playground
I punched in the security codes on Charles Monroe’s front door after Rachel left for the evening. As much as I respected Rachel, I didn’t want to admit how relieved I felt to see her take off for the weekend. As a roommate, she’d been picking at me about the last woman I’d dated. Alison wasn’t even a relationship. Just a woman I slept with. My serious interest lay elsewhere.
Tim was taking over her shift backing me up watching Monroe’s house. He’d dropped by earlier, but somehow I’d lost track of him. I don’t know how. The first hour he’d been there, I was hyper-aware of his eyes on me. Then suddenly, he’d split. Lost in the mansion of Monroe’s excesses.
Grabbing a beer from the kitchen, I wandered back out to the pool deck and found him spread out over two deck chairs. I heard Art’s words running through my head. The chief’d been explicit: I couldn’t have women over—civilian women.
But Tim wasn’t female. Or a civilian.
And there he was, draped in an abandoned chair with one foot thrown up on the barback of the grill and his other dangled in another chair.
I’m still not sure what surprised me more: his bare feet or the “come fuck me” look on his face. Seen more than my share of looks on Tim’s face. Many of them confusing. This one wasn’t.
“So this is where you got off to.” I made my way over to him and nodded at the chair. He lifted his foot and dropped it to the patio stones. I sat down and took a pull on my beer. He propped his foot back up in the chair, but this time in my lap.
“Where you been?”
“Bowling in the basement.”
I couldn’t help looking down at his ankle. “Barefoot?” He couldn’t have been. The soles of his feet were clean.
Tim’s smile was slight and so much more seductive for it. I was reading this right. Between his forearms languid on the armrests and his heavy stare, I fought the desire to lick my lips. I swallowed another gulp of beer and felt him rubbing his heel into my leg. Surely, I wasn’t mistaking that .
Tim’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and swiped his bottom lip. “Couldn’t find any bowling shoes.”
“Huh. You’d think someone this rich would have a pair or two lying around.” My hand dropped to cover his ankle, and my fingers betrayed me, wrapping around his ankle. He didn’t pull away. I was reading this right. His skin was cooler than I expected it would be and drew my eyes away from his face.
“I know, right?” Tim pulled his sunglasses off and crinkled his eyes at me.
I put my beer down and took his bare foot in both hands. His jeans were damp enough to soak into the denim of mine. I shoved the cold clammy cuff up his leg, clear of my thigh. I pressed my thumbs into his arch, feeling him flex and pull away. Holding tight, I rubbed circles into his warm skin until he curled his toes and finally relaxed into my touch.
“Why’re your jeans wet?”
Tim grinned his crooked-tooth little smile at me. “Pool.”
I pressed my lips together into a fair flat line and nodded at him. “Fair enough.” I ran the knuckle of one finger up the middle of his sole and watched his lips part. He inhaled sharply.
“Feels good.” The way he said it, I wasn’t sure he meant it.
I stood up and twisted his chair in my direction. I dug my fingers into his hair, tugging his head back so he looked up at me. I sure hoped I had this right. Not a lot of going back after this. I kissed him, slanting our lips together. I licked my way into his mouth. He didn’t make me fight to get there. In less than the space of a breath, my tongue was in his mouth mingling his with mine.
Oh, yeah, I got it right.
“Didn’t expect that,” Tim whispered against my lips.
I chuckled at him. Seemed like I spend whole days trying not to laugh at him. “Yeah, you did. You been staring at me all night.”
“You wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t starin’ back.”
I stood up, and Tim grabbed my belt, yanking me forward between his knees. He pulled the tongue of my belt from the loops holding it down. I watched his long deft fingers go to work on my jeans. In moments, those fingers were wrapped around my cock, pulling it out.
He leaned forward and lapped at the head, then his lips were circling my cock, his eyes raised to my face. I stroked Tim’s eyebrow with the pad of my thumb, then cradled his head in my hand.
“This okay?” I asked, sliding my fingers into his hair. He nodded and hummed his agreement. I groaned.
Years of sneaking peeks at him chewing pens had taken its toll. I loved watching my cock slide in and out of his mouth. Too soon he broke the suction pulling away with an audible ‘pop’.
I dragged him to his feet and found his mouth again. Soon enough, I had him backed up against the wall of the house. I kept kissing him but used my hands to tug his shirts from the waistband of his jeans. I pulled away while I worked on his belt… but not far enough that our mouths weren’t close enough together so I was sharing his air, inhaling his breath. I wondered what he had for lunch… was that just a hint of coffee on his breath?
I kissed him again—a sweet closed mouth kiss before I let my mouth wander down to his jawline, tracing it back to his ear. I leaned into him, pinning him against the wall… my mouth at the base of his neck, sucking and biting just enough to increase the odds of leaving a glaring mark just under where his collar rested. I held his chin in one hand and let the other travel down his body… pausing at his waist, the flank of his ass. I grabbed him, squeezing and pulling him against me so I could grind my bare cock against where his briefs strained over his hard-on.
I pulled his cock free, then drew it against my own fisting them both.
Tim caught his breath. “Fuck.”
“Do you feel that?”
“I do.”
“Want you.”
“Yeah, never would have guessed that.”
I fought off the laugh this time. Always a smart ass. “Here. Use your hand.”
Tim’s long fingers wrapped around both our cocks and pulled. “Like this?”
“Mm-hmm. God, you feel good.”
“What? My hand or my cock?”
“Yeah.”
Tim shook his head tightly at me and twitched his lips. So I kissed them again, wrapping my arm around his waist. He grabbed me on either side of my face and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I slipped my fingers under his waistband in the middle of his back, then stretched down further, skimming under his briefs to slide my middle finger into his crack. I touched my lips to his again as I stretched my middle finger down until I found what I was searching for. Where I wanted to be.
“Did you guess I wanted you here?” I tapped him right there, where I thought the center of his opening was.
“Sort of figured that out, yeah.” I kissed him again, stroking over and over his hole until I felt him relax, then I worked the tip of my finger into him.
“Let me fuck you against this wall.”
And he did. Oh god, he did.
Tim turned around and lowered his jeans to his knees. He held himself open for me, waiting while my bare cock leaked precum against his bare ass. When I pushed against him and rubbed my cock against his skin, I sucked on his earlobe.
“You’re so goddamned hot.”
He moaned and pulled his cheeks open, while I used my tongue to prep him.
God… what would he feel like around my cock when I finally start to slide into him? How tight and how hot would he be? I fished my wallet out of my jeans. Somewhere in there was a condom.
Rolling it on, I stared at it, at a loss. “I don’t have anything…”
Tim glanced back at my cock. “That looks like something to me.”
“No… I mean. Slick. I don’t have slick.”
The wrinkle between Tim’s brows furrowed. “I… ” His head dropped and then he looked around. “There. Olive oil. On the grill…”
I felt myself flush, and my cock jerked involuntarily in response. Using something meant for food just seemed... so much dirtier. “Won’t that…”
“It won’t. Whatever you’re thinking, it won’t.”
“I could run upstairs and get—”
“Raylan, now.”
I knew I wouldn’t last long. Now that he was here with me, like this, I wanted him every way I could possibly take him. Choosing only one was just unfair. What if we never got this chance again? I pushed the thought from my head and took him from behind. Tight around me. With me.
I had him in that moment and that had to be enough.
I held his palms to the wall and pumped into his ass with abandon. Tim was as tight as I’d dreamt he’d be. I stroked him off so I could feel him when he came all over my hand and the wall of the house, felt the muscles in his ass involuntarily bear down on my cock. Coming was like drawing down at the last moment. Breathless, sudden, intense.
I stopped, collapsing against his back and breathing heavy into his neck. Tim pressed his forehead to the wall catching his breath. Caught up and breathing evenly again, he turned his head to the side, and I nuzzled him with my nose.
“You feel so good.”
“You feel so big.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah… just… ready for a new position.”
I pecked his cheek and slid my cock free of him. Looking around, I didn’t find anything I could use to clean up… so I took the tail of my flannel shirt and wiped away the oil. Maybe I’d overdone it a tad. He wiggled under me.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
I kissed his cheek again. That was all the reply I could muster.
He seemed unsteady on his feet when he pushed away from the wall so I helped him straighten his clothes, pulling up his briefs followed by his jeans.
“Next time I want you in a bed.”
“Sounds good,” Tim whispered.
“Come on,” I said. I took his hand in mine and tugged him along behind me, into the house and up the stairs.
I pulled off my flannel, wadded it into a ball, and tossed it into the corner.
“’m goin’ to the bathroom.”
“Shower?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll join you.” Charles Monroe might not have bowling shoes, but he had a rich man’s shower. Steam. Full body jets. Water fell from the ceiling like rain. And seats.
I didn’t need any of Monroe’s gadgets to wash every part of Tim. I used my fingers and tongue and told him what I planned to do with every part of him. His neck. His nipples. His chest, down his stomach. His hip bones. The tight curve of his ass. Finally, I traced his beautiful mouth with the pad of a finger, and then with my tongue.
“I love your mouth. Can’t stand to look at you sometimes because I want to see your mouth on my cock so bad.”
“We can make that happen.”
I’m fascinated with his cock. He’s just long and thick enough to matter. I wanted him inside me. Not just then. But I wanted it. I never wanted that when I fucked men.
I got him hard while warm water rained down on us and steam rose around us, then stroked him off while I fingered him… his ass was still slightly slick with oil. I worked him until I found the right angle to make him moan into my throat, his long fingers gripping my forearms.
“Jesus Tim… I want to make you come over and over again.”
“O— O— okay,” he hiccuped in reply. “Now, start now.”
“I want to feel you come with my cock or fingers inside you… I want to feel you come apart.”
And then he did.
I took him to bed after the shower. I didn’t have a plan. I just wanted him under me or beside me. With me.
I’d end up taking him twice more, not before I sat on the side of the bed with him on his knees before me, his mouth on my cock, his pretty blue eyes glued to my face. I buried my fingers in his hair and he let me.
Jesus, he let me.
Later that night, I crawled between his legs, and he wrapped them around my waist. I rocked against him in long deep strokes while we breathed each other’s air. I normally fucked women like this. Not men. But Tim. I wanted him this way. I wanted him all the ways I could get him.
I pulled back and braced my knees under his thighs and lifted one, then both legs up to my shoulders. I rubbed my tongue into the arch of his foot, slowly pumping into his ass. I bit his foot, then kissed his ankle. I finished fucking him with my weight pressed over him while he dug his heels into my ass and thighs. Tim cradled me with his arms and legs and mouth and ass. I don’t know who held who. Which of us possessed the other.
Fucked out flat, I found one of Monroe’s thick bath cloths and wiped him down. I liked tending him. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought about when I was with men. Or women. Aftercare. Or just caring.
I wanted to sleep with him spooned in front of me, so I could bury my nose in his hair. I wanted to inhale his scent into my subconscious and dreams.
In the morning… I woke up with my hard-on pressed against his ass.
“Again?”
I laughed. “That a problem?”
“No. Um, maybe.”
“Want you as many times as you’ll have me. Can you… I mean… We did it a lot already.”
I fucked him into the mattress this time. He spread his legs to make room for me, then kept trying to tangle our legs together. He entwined his legs around mine somehow, hooking his feet around my calves. Every time I pegged his gland, his toes would arch and curl in response, his calves tightening from the building arousal.
I wondered how deeply I could get into his ass from that angle. Would his ass be as tight after fucking him three times in the last twelve hours? Would it matter?
Relaxed and accustomed to my cock, I fucked him at length. Tim took my weight… over him, my mouth on his neck, in his ear, moaning and grunting. I told him how hot he is and how amazing.
“You’re beautiful…”
“Raylan… come on. You’re the one...”
“No. You are… You’re beautiful. Men can be.”
He laughed shortly, stretching over his shoulder to kiss me. “Oh, I know. Sit across a glass partition from you.”
I wrapped my fingers through his and covered all of his body with my own, every part of us touching skin to skin, my cock buried inside him, my hips pressed to his ass, pumping in and out of him in short deep thrusts. I ground into him, getting faster. Sounds filled the room: our bodies slapping together, harsh breaths, and an errant grunt. Mine. His.
When I came, I cried out, spilling my secrets.
“Wanted you so goddamn long. Too long. Don’t leave. Stay with me.”
“Can’t leave. Art said I gotta stay through the weekend.”
“Tim. No. That’s not what I meant.”
He covered my words with a finger. “I know.”
Tim crawled out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom. Watching him stagger away, I mumbled, “You need help?”
“I got it.”
I wanted to follow him, but I forced myself not to, unsure about his response when I’d asked him to stay. Unsure what I was asking him to stay for.
I rolled over onto my back with my hand under my head. My other hand was drawn to his side of the bed, where I’d fucked him into the mattress. Tim was gone, but the sheets… they rang of him.
“You left the wet spot for me?”
Tim had startled me.
I tugged up the sheet and covered the spot, then I shifted over on top of it. He grinned flashing his crooked smile my way, then climbed back into the bed next to me on his side facing me, his head on my shoulder. I pulled him closer to me. I loved how his bare skin felt against mine, how something tight inside me loosened from our physical contact.
I only tell him this though: “You feel good next to me.” He felt right . I should have said it. I will say it. Soon.
He dozed, and I watched him, fascinated by the gold in his lashes and how they splayed out under his eyes.
He really is beautiful.
If he were mine…
It’s not something I’d fully considered. If he were mine, I’d have him every day like this. Twice some days. More if he’d let me. Maybe not as many times as we’d done it in the last day. But I’d make him come as often as I could. The thought struck and shimmered in me like a tuning fork. I would make sure that he only got to come with something in his ass. I’d tongue his hole and stroke him off. I’d fuck him and nail his prostate… getting him to come without either of us touching his cock. I wondered wildly if he’d try sex toys. Winona… well, she never would. But Tim… I could see him wearing a plug while he fucked me. I wondered if I would need to sneak off to the shower to jerk off before Tim woke up again.
If he were mine… well. Mine. The world seemed huge and so much more possible if he would be. Could be.
I’d spend Sunday in bed with him, with him laid out bare before me, exploring, stroking every single part of him, watching his face, listening for his sharp intakes of breath… so I could know him… and know what pleases him. And know what doesn’t.
If he were mine, we’d have all the Sundays. I’d spend my days trying to find ways to touch him that Art couldn’t fire me for. And when we weren’t working, I’d touch Tim as much as he’d tolerate it.
Art. He’d kill me when he found out.
And it would be when. There was no if about it. I watched Tim breathing in his sleep, and decided I’d take him back to Florida with me if he would go. Maybe we could still work together. Maybe not. But I’d have his back on and off the job.
I’d shoot men to keep him safe. Even if he didn’t stay mine.
With his warm skin against mine that morning, I knew that was it for me: I’d marry him. I knew when I met Winona. It took me all this time to know with Tim. But I’d get around to asking him. Hell, I’d beg him if I had to until he said yes. I think he’d agree. I knew he’d been watching me, staring at me for years.
Because he was right. I’d been watching him right back.