A Day in the Life…
Welcome Home Scottie
I couldn’t even believe the sight as I walked into the main conference room at my dad’s headquarters. I wasn’t even there to work. I wanted to say hello to a few people, my assistant, gather some stuff and go. My father had other ideas.
When I stepped through the doors, balloons fell from a net, flooding the room with color and confetti. Everyone yelled, “Surprise!”
I grabbed my chest. “I…Oh, my. Guys? I’m overwhelmed. Gee…”
Gustave from marketing handed me a drink. “Glad you’re alive, Scottie!”
“Thanks, uh…yeah. Thanks.” I took the glass. I’d never particularly been friends with any of these people, least of all Gustave. He’d always seemed to have the opposite opinion, and I tended to defer to him. He was more experienced, and he cared about his job, which was way more than I ever did. I’d always been under the impression that he hated me for that, too.
Petra started cutting the humongous cake in the center of the table. People cheered. My dad stepped forward. “Scott. I know you’re leaving the company, but you’re my son, so…” A few people laughed, but not many. I thought it made for an awkward moment, rare for my father. He always knew exactly what to say. I guess I’d thrown him off with all of this—the shipwreck, finding Cal, moving on with our lives. “Well, I just think that you will be missed here, but we’re all glad…I’m glad…Damn, Scott. I could have lost you. Really lost you.”
My father being chocked up was more than I could stand. I hated being thrust in the middle of this chaos when I wanted nothing more than to get back to Cal. I never wanted any of this. I hated the job, hated working for my father, hated never knowing what the hell I was doing.
The people were okay. I’m sure they were lovely when not tinged with shades of my anger. Yet, I couldn’t care. I didn’t care if they were relieved at my return or sad at my departure. I only wanted to be away…
I looked around, searching for my escape. That’s when Cal walked through the doors. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, loud and clear in his American accent that I loved and envied. He wrapped an arm around me, immediately calming me. “Missed you,” he whispered and kissed my nose.
“Thank you.” He smiled and nothing else mattered. I figured my dad had roped him in to coming. He seemed to get along better with my dad than I did, after all.
“Not a problem.” He nodded to my father. His head and face had been newly shaved, and he smelled of Old Spice—cliché but I loved it.
Relieved that Cal was there, I finally let myself look around. Everyone seemed genuinely happy for me, and my father… Well, he smiled broadly, raising his cup. “Good luck, Scottie and Cal. Good luck on your next venture in life.”
The whole room raised their cups and shouted, “Here! Here!”
I turned to Cal and kissed him lightly on his full lips. Warmth swelled in my heart. With Cal at my side I was ready to take on the world.
In The Atlantic
Luffing – When a sailing vessel is steered far enough to windward that the sail is no longer completely filled with wind.
Cal opened his eyes and instinctively knew he’d slept later than he normally did. He could hear the other crew members on deck, shuffling around, and the clanking of equipment. He grinned to himself just a little. They knew what the day meant to old Cal Bigsby and let him sleep just a little longer, which was probably the best birthday gift he could have received out on this ship. It wasn’t every day a man like him turned fifty.
Reluctantly, he drug his old ass up out of his berth and made his way to the head. Did his knees creek just a little more?
The Outrigger May didn’t have much of a shower, but it’d be enough to clean his scraggly ass up. He washed up and trimmed the goatee styled beard around his chin and his mustache. His salt and pepper look had started leaning more toward salt. He finished up by quickly running the razor over his head. He’d long ago started shaving the receding gray hairline away. He glanced in the beat up old mirror—that was about as good as he was gonna look.
A pounding on the little door grabbed his attention. “Come on ol’ man…get outta there…all hands!”
His free time over, Cal headed up to the galley to grab a quick bite before the day got underway. The May’s skipper was a younger guy who’d inherited the ship, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. Cal had long ago realized that knowledge, experience, and skill were not the requirements for being a skipper. No. The only requirement was owning a god damned boat. It meant that where a lot of things were concerned, he had the crew, had a lot of leeway, but on stupid shit, the skipper would yell and dress them down, and it was almost always hard to predict what it’d be. Grabbing food, thankfully, wouldn’t be one. They’d convinced Willy, though they’d never call him by his nickname to his face, that they couldn’t work properly without a full stomach.
He grabbed a couple of biscuits the crew’d left for him and poured the last of the a’ la king from the stove over them. He ate it quick and cold. Canned food was shit hot or cold, better hot, but he didn’t spare time for that. It might be his birthday, but getting up late meant dealing with what you got. And dish duty. After he washed up the dishes left and stowed them, he headed above.
The other guys had already started dropping the lines. “Nice of you to join us, mate.” Jimmy Rooke gave him a quick nod. “Happy Birthday, you old mother fucker.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Cal pulled on his work gloves and jumped in to help.
Matty and Frank grunted their own greetings, and that was about all Cal expected. Henry Matson, or Matty, and Frank Cammish were both from old fishing families like him. They were four or five generations deep and lived and breathed the fisheries. Rooke was a greenhorn and did most of the grunt work, but had proved not only to be a good hand, but one of his best buddies, despite his age.
Good old Skipper Willy interrupted what little chat they offered with a quick pat on Cal’s back. “Yeah. Happy Birthday. Your family planning something for when you get home?”
“Nah. This is home.” Cal shrugged and gestured out to the open water. “Out here.”
“Alright. Well, get on with it then.” He turned aft and left the deck without another word. Prickly bastard.
Cal just grunted. He meant what he’d said. He was never more at home than on a fishing vessel out in the ocean. Home on land had never been home. His dad had always been gone, at sea, just like Cal, and when he did come home, he drank, cussed, knocked his mama around, and told Cal to stop whining like a girl or worse, like a faggot, and be a man. Being a man meant fishing. It meant drinking and whoring around with women. Cal sighed. Two out of three would have to be enough. He was as much of a man as he could be.
He hadn’t seen his dad in nearly three years now.
He hadn’t been on land for more than a week or two at a time in five.
Just how had he managed to turn fifty and have his life so quickly gone? What did he have to show for it? Calloused hands, a sore back, creaky knees, and no real desire to do anything else about it.
Check out Out of the Ocean on Amazon:
by Lynn Michaels
Warning: explicit material – 18+ only – also may contain a foot fetish, two loving men, and healing hearts… Oh, and a pink toiletry case…
I packed up my duffle bag and my small pink bathroom case, knowing it was too much for just one overnight stay, knowing he would think I’m crazy or moving in. Ha! I didn’t care. I wanted to be prepared for anything. I wasn’t used to being away from home. I’d never slept over at someone’s place before. Hell, I’d never had a healthy relationship before. But he was different. Right from the start I knew things would change. I’d started changing, too.
When I’d finally made it over to Brantley’s place I rang the bell and waited on the front porch. I’d been here before on dates, of course, but this time would be different. The early evening humidity clawed at my face and cicadas chirped in the distance. His walkway had been lined with monkey grass and tropical plants, a paradise tree and a few small sago palms. It all seemed different tonight. Anticipation made my heart pound furiously, like a Polynesian drummer beating a drum carved out of wood. I’d seen them perform on some travel channel show. I’d never been there. I’d never been anywhere.
The door opened and Brantley stood in front of me with that snarky grin I’d come to love. His gaze traveled down my body, checking me out like he normally did, as if he was still astounded that I was his. Then his eyes landed on the hefty bag over my shoulder and the pink, hard case in my hand. “It’s just one night?” Yes, he made it a question. He’d let me control the pace of our relationship. He had been all in from the beginning. Not me. I had a hard head and had come into it with a shattered heart that hadn’t healed up exactly right.
“Well, yes. Maybe. Can I come in?”
“Of Course.” Brantley opened the door wider so I could pass by him. He took my pink case.
“You can put that in the bathroom. It’s toiletries.” It didn’t sound nearly as confident as I’d wanted. Staying over was a first for us and my nerves were showing.
“Remy…” My name was a sigh on his lips and even in his frustration, I loved to hear it.
“You sure? I don’t want you putting too much pressure on yourself.”
“You don’t want me here?”
“That’s not what I said.” He put the case on his coffee table and reached out for me. I let him pull me in; I wanted the comfort.
I nodded, my head against his broad chest. His fingers slid into my plain brown hair. I kept it short and normal. Brantley’s hair was longer, blondish with highlights and styled on top. I think he had it professionally streaked, but I didn’t care about that.. He looked good and I was still amazed I had such a hunky boyfriend. Secretly, fears that he would abandon me lived in my heart, though. He was too good looking—too nice.
He kissed my forehead. “You’re adorable, Remy.” For a moment we stood together like that. He rocked me slowly and when my shoulders finally relaxed, he asked. “Did you bring your inhaler?”
“In the box.” I pointed to my case, abandoned on the plain wood table. His house wasn’t fancy on the inside. Plain white walls. Walnut brown carpeting. His furniture looked comfortable, lived in, but not second-hand.
“Good. Let’s get you comfortable. Okay? I made dinner and I have the movies you suggested.”
He tried so hard and I was so complicated. I wasn’t sure why he made the effort, but I didn’t want to ruin the night by bringing up that subject again. The argument got us nowhere. This night was our compromise. I could try, too.
My taxing boyfriend. Ugh! Sometimes, I wanted to just throw in the towel and let him go. Yet, I’d be letting my heart go, too, if he walked away. That’s what he didn’t understand. The little shit had worked his way into my life, under my skin, and stole my heart. When he got challenging, all I had to do was look into those deep brown eyes, they were like hard candy—glossy and sweet—and I knew I’d do anything for him.
I didn’t even raise an eyebrow when he’d showed up at my door for our sleepover with a bag large enough for a week-long stay and a pink bathroom case. Pink. Of course he’d have a pink box for his toiletries. I shouldn’t have expected anything less.
His hair was a rich coffee brown, as soft as a bunny, and styled in an old-fashioned boy cut. The effortless cut of his hair didn’t match anything else about him. He wore nice dress pants, pleated in the front, that fell precisely over his shiny brown Oxford shoes. His dress shirt was tucked in his pants perfectly, completely smooth. I wanted to yank it out of his pants and rip open the buttons, scuff his shoes, and mess that coiffed hair. I held back though, so he wouldn’t freak out. I’d learned the hard way that I could do all of those things, but I had to wait for the appropriate time and I had to ask first.
Seem like too much? Not for me.
The truth of the matter is that I’m a laid back guy. I put my energy where my priorities are and overlook what doesn’t matter. I’ve always been that way. It also meant that I’d never put any effort into prior relationships and was unable to hang on to a guy. Boyfriends wanted attention and until Remy walked into my life, it was not even a priority.
From the moment I saw him, something changed. Not only did I shift my priorities, but everything I did for him, every effort, was worth it. Remy was a brilliant computer guy and he hated when I called him that. In fact, he worked in computer science with machine learning and artificial intelligence. He was ten times smarter than me and was creating machines that would also be ten times smarter than me. I thought it was funny but Remy could be sensitive about it. He didn’t want to hurt my feelings or bruise my ego and I loved him for it, so I kept the joking to myself. That’s the complexity I walked with him, daily.
As the Promotional Director for the local hockey team, I was well versed in bending to make people happy and that’s how we met. I worked with his employer on a special promotion to bring some of their employees to the stadium for a game. She paired me up with Remy to decide what kind of extras we could include. So we started negotiating from the moment I met him and we never stopped. Computer geeks aren’t the biggest hockey fans but we managed to put a fun night together all the same. And when it was over, I asked Remy out on a date, promising it would not be hockey related.
I loved sports, but I’m not the most athletic guy. I kept in shape though, and I was bigger than Remy. I liked that about him. He seemed so fragile, but he’s not, really. He’s like a wild flower that dances in the wind, small and beautiful, but able to stand up to any storm. That’s my Remy.
When he started to melt in my arms—that moment when he released—felt like flipping open a safety valve or something. It made me feel stronger. I could take on the world. I could protect him. Yet, I knew he really didn’t need me to. He didn’t need me for anything.
I leaned back, pulling away from him. “Want to watch a movie? Or eat? We can do both.”
Remy nodded. “Let’s eat first. Can I put this away?” He held out his bag, clasping the handle with his long delicate fingers. I loved those fingers, good for playing piano, coding on a keyboard, running down my back, or gripping my dick…
“Sure.” I let him go before I got carried away. We’d get to the sex, but not first—not with Remy. “Made your favorite. Totally loaded baked potatoes.”
Remy pranced down the hall and back into the living room. His face lit up with happiness. “With barbeque pork?”
“Yeah. Of course. The pork cooked all day long. Come on.”
I pulled out the chair for him; he loved that shit. We’d been together enough for me to know how to get him calm and pliable. The only time he might need that inhaler would be after sex.
He sat down, and I scooted him in before serving the food. I’d had the meat in the crock pot all day and it was tender and delicious on top of loaded potatoes with cheddar cheese and butter. I dabbed a couple of spoonfuls of sour cream on top before setting the plate in front of him. I served it with sweet, iced tea.
“This is really perfect, Brantley. You’re amazing.”
I felt a little blush warming my face. “Not really.”
Remy put his hands in his lap. “You are. Don’t think I don’t know what a…uh, pain? Yes. I’m a pain in the ass, but you always go to such lengths to make me happy. And I don’t deserve it.”
I huffed a little at that last bit. “Don’t start that. You do deserve it. You make my heart thump, even with your weird eccentricities. Maybe because of them. A little.”
He smiled then, and that made everything worth it. That was the value I saw in him. His eyes sparkled and the little dimple in his left cheek dented in. His lips weren’t overly plump like some porn star, but they did the job, and I wanted them on me.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Now? We’re eating.”
“You’re not eating. You’re sitting there with your hands in your lap, beaming at me like a supernova.”
He blushed and looked away.
“So, yes, now. Please?”
His chair scooted back, but he didn’t otherwise move. A soft, “Okay,” slipped from his lips. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but the look on his face said he wanted me. That was enough to make me launch myself at him.
I grabbed Remy’s shoulders, gently, and smashed my mouth against his. My knees hit the floor in front of him and I wrapped myself around his waist. For a moment, the world stopped. Then tentative fingers flitted through my hair. I couldn’t stop myself from snuggling my nose into his hip.
“You’re making me hard, Brant!”
“Mmm…” I felt his cock against my throat.
“But, I’m hungry. We have time for…that. Later. ‘Kay?”
Remy was anything but typical. Most men would have forgotten about the food as soon as their dick started taking notice of a willing sexual partner pressed against them. Not my Remy. I chuckled and slowly slid back away from him, but not without dragging my mouth across the front of his tented pants.
He grumbled something under his breath.
“What was that, Remy?”
With a glare aimed in my direction, he spoke louder. “I said that was mean. You’re being mean.”
“That’s not mean. It’s flirting. Okay. Eat and then we can snuggle on the couch and I’ll tease you some more.”
I could tell it was going to be a long night from the hungry way Brantley watched me devour my potato. I liked to eat my food while it was hot and fresh, but it had been a challenge after Brantley cuddled up in my lap. It wouldn’t kill us to wait. In fact, anticipation tended to make things more exciting, so I would not feel guilty, even with him aiming his puppy dog eyes at me.
After dinner, I helped clean up and then we changed into pajamas and got under a blanket on the couch. Brantley had popped a movie in, the new Star Trek film with Khan in it. I liked the rebooted movies with Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto. They both had played their characters with the right nod to the previous Kirk and Spock, yet had brought something new and different to the roles as well. Brantley liked all the fighting and action and stuff blowing up—perfect choice for both of us.
Brantley’s back was against the sofa and my back was against him and it didn’t take long before I felt his cock pressed against my backside through those thin pants. His were soft, blue and gray plaid, and hung low on his hips. I thought they were sexy as hell, especially compared to my X-men. But Brantley had bought these for me at that crazy store in the mall. They weren’t as soft as his, but they were comfortable and cool. I loved X-men. The idea that normal people could have one thing about them that made them totally abnormal but in such a cool way, really did it for me. I loved Beast the most. He was super freaking smart and…looked like a beast.
My nerves from earlier were completely gone. Brantley made me feel at home, like we’d done this a thousand times. The way he treated me, took care of me…falling in love with him would be so easy. He was the only man I’d ever met who’d taken the time to get to know and understand me. Brantley knew how I worked, how my brain ticked. He didn’t try to entice me by thrusting against me like a horny dog. No, he slid his hand around my bare chest and held me. He nudged his nose behind my ear. He wrapped his feet around my calves. He felt like warm comfort, a big cozy sweater in the winter, or sunshine on my face.
The blanket draped over our hips and thighs, but when I shivered, he slid it up to our shoulders. I wasn’t cold, not with his hot furnace of a body behind me but I didn’t tell him that. I wiggled into him and he hummed a little. His cock got harder. He still didn’t push it into me but that only made me want to tease him more.
On the screen, Khan had blown up the emergency meeting, killing Pike, Kirk’s mentor but I’d seen this one several times already and was much more interested in Brantley. I turned and faced him, throwing my leg over his thigh. I watched the light cast from the movie play over his face. Those blue eyes—cornflower. His cheek bones were high and sturdy. He didn’t have a super hero jaw line, but everything about him was strong and ruggedly beautiful.
“What’re you doin’ Remy?” He glanced at me, then at the TV but a moment later his eyes stared into mine. He leaned forward and kissed me, then turned back to the movie. His lips had quirked up into a smirk. He knew what he was doing, and it had nothing to do with Kirk chasing after Khan!
I gave up watching him and snuggled into his neck. He wrapped his arm around my back, making me feel safe and sound. I couldn’t stop myself from sticking my tongue out and licking along his Adam’s apple. Brantley made a grunting noise that sounded more like leave me alone than keep going. Did he know that would rile me up more? Make my tongue search out spots along his neck that caused other noises to come from him? It did and so did I and before I knew it, Brantley had pushed me onto my back, hanging half off of the couch.
“Mmm…Remy…” His lips attacked my throat and his tongue licked across my collarbone. He thumbed my nipple, making me practically purr. He knew exactly how to get to me.
Pressing his body onto mine, we slid off the couch, landing on the floor. The coffee table shoved over and Brantley lay between my legs. His hips flexed, grinding his cock into mine. He leaned over me, his mouth coming down on mine, crushing my lips to his. My stupid brain ticked off a litany of how it wasn’t the right time for sex. The movie was still on. My libido had other ideas and for once, I was going to listen to my little head. I opened my mouth, inviting him in.
Uhura spoke the guttural Klingon language, trying to convince the enemy to turn over Khan, or at least warn them about him. On the floor though, Brantley ravished my mouth with his. His tongue explored the roof of my mouth, my teeth, and wrapped around my own tongue—like where no man had ever gone before. That’s when I started giggling.
“No, uh, nothing. Brant. Can we, uh, skip the movie?”
He looked down at me with a raised eyebrow, knowing I never skipped the proper steps. This time felt different, though and I trusted Brantley not to let us fall. Before he could answer, I shoved up off the floor, making him move.
“Seriously. I need…” And I did need—needed him to make love to me. I wanted to feel his naked body pressed to mine and his thick cock, moving inside. We’d had sex before. It’s not that it was a new thing. We’d been together for months. Yet, this was the first sleepover and it made things different. So I needed to use a different sequence, a new agenda. “Come on.” I nodded toward the hallway where his room with the big king size bed waited for us.
Brantley took my hand and followed without a word.
Getting over my shock at this strange twist of events took me a moment. I followed Remy down the hall, knowing what was coming but still not quite believing he’d skipped the movie. That was so unlike my Remy. I wondered what had changed but at the same time, I was totally not going to argue about it. The only thing I could do was keep my mouth shut and follow.
Our complicated relationship was a thing of beauty and irony. I topped, always. Not because I wasn’t willing to bottom. I’d do anything for Remy but he seemed to enjoy taking me inside him, and who the hell was I to argue with that? Especially, since Remy was always the one in control. Always.
So it was no surprise that when I shut the bedroom door behind us Remy shoved my pajamas down and stroked my already hard cock. He pushed against me, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing my ass. I loved it when Remy tried to manhandle me and I sort of just let him. He shoved me on the bed and slid his body next to mine, angling up for a kiss.
I had to oblige him, those lips were perfect. Opening for him, I revealed in his tongue invading me, demanding more. His hands roamed my body as we kissed, traveling up my back and over my shoulders. I dug my hands into his soft, dark hair. Remy moaned softly at my little tug. “Brant…please…”
“What do you want baby?”
“Mmm… Do the toe thing…please…?”
Reluctantly, I pulled myself away and went into the bathroom for a washcloth. I didn’t mind his request—at all. It was leaving the bed that I hated, leaving his warm body glued to my side. I should have anticipated his request though, so I just sucked it up and wet the cloth.
When I returned, Remy was wonderfully naked and stretched out on the bed. His lean, toned muscles on display for me, right along with his long, hard cock. He wasn’t huge but well-proportioned for his body and totally beautiful to me. He’d plugged his iPod into my speakers and had some music playing quietly. It might have been Zayn’s Pillowtalk. I wasn’t sure, but it had some electronic vibe with percussion, the kind of music he liked to listen to.
I knelt at the end of the bed and grabbed a shapely ankle. I wiped his foot with the cloth, between his toes and over the pad and his arch, making him squirm a little.
“Now, Brant!” His moan echoed through my room as I slid his second toe between my lips. My tongue played between them and flicked the soft pad, making all kinds of strange noises come from him. His eyes closed and his face relaxed—blissed out.
I chuckled, knowing how much he loved having his toes sucked. I didn’t stick with it long though. No, my mouth had other places it wanted to explore. I ran my palms up his calf and lifted his leg, kissing behind his knee. His legs fell open. “Brantley…” He lifted his ass off the bed, giving me a full view.
He didn’t shave but had little hair around his scrotum and he kept what was there very closely trimmed. I ran my fingers through it, over his balls and lower abdomen, behind his cock where it was softest.
“Oh! Gah…suck me,” he choked out.
I licked at the pink crown and mouthed my way down his shaft. I pulled his balls in my mouth and gently sucked, rolling my tongue over them as I did. I couldn’t hear the music over his groaning—just how I liked it.
After a moment, I moved down. I wanted to make sure he got the full treatment. I nudged my nose behind his balls, smelled his musky scent, a base note to his normal woodsy fragrance, and highlighted by tangy sweat. So arousing; my dick grew even harder, tapping against my stomach as I moved lower.
“Yes, yes…” Remy sounded breathy and desperate.
My gorgeous lover; I wanted to make him scream my name. I had to have him, couldn’t wait a second longer. My need to claim him rushed from my chest, spurring me on. So claim him, I did. Spearing my tongue into his hole. No teasing or playing around, just wet and fast.
The music changed to a tune I better recognized—Escape by the Kongos. I vowed then, to take him on a vacation. If I ever got him to finally relent and move in with me. With my tongue in his hole, him squirming around in pleasure and whichever brother was promising a musical getaway playing, I was planning out our whole future together. I wanted that—wanted him—like nothing I’d ever wanted before.
I stopped there. Too much. I sat up and grabbed the base of my cock. “What? Tell me, babe. What do you want?”
Remy jumped up and practically tackled me. He kissed me hard, exploring with his tongue, wrapping his arms around my neck. I didn’t let go of my cock, afraid it would explode from the emotional overload being around Remy was putting me through. I seriously got off on how aggressive he could be in bed.
“I want to ride you. Please, please. Lie down, Brant.”
I obliged him and got comfortable while he shuffled through my nightstand drawer. We had been together long enough to ditch condoms, which was one of Remy’s steps of a relationship. This first sleepover was another. I wanted to jump over the rest of his list, but I’d wait forever for him, jump through every hoop. He was worth it.
He opened the cap on the lube bottle with a snick, and squeezed out a glob in his hand, before crawling back on the bed beside me. I watched him prep himself, putting those fingers where my tongue had been. “Don’t come until I tell you too, Brant. Okay?”
I nodded. We’d played this game before. I squeezed my dick harder, getting it under control. Anticipation was a heady thing and I was pretty sure I could come hard before he ever seated himself on me.
“Take a deep breath,” he whispered, crawling over my legs and straddling me. “I mean it. Do. Not. Come.”
“I’m not. I won’t.”
Sliding down, so slowly, on his hard cock, I didn’t know how long I would last and guessed not very. Yet, making Brantley wait was simply exquisite. So I breathed in long and slow, and blew it out through my mouth and when my ass was touching the inside of his thighs, I held there until my legs started shaking.
Brantley slid his hands under my thighs and grasped the outside of my legs, which made me spread them wider, so he could see everything but he wasn’t watching his thick cock lodged in my ass or the way my own cock curved to the side. No, he stared right up into my face. His expression was loving and expectant—waiting. He would wait for me, as long as I wanted to take and that moved something in my chest. We had done this before but his eyes had never been so intense. His pupils were blown, and the dark blue left around the edges called to me in a strange way. In that moment, I swore little pieces of my heart fitted themselves back together.
“Move? Please, Remy…”
His eyes, fierce and full of hunger, made a little crooked smile quirk on my mouth. I flexed my legs and pushed up, slowly. A long moan ripped from Brantley’s throat. It went straight to my head—okay, both of them. So I kept at the slow and steady pace, despite the urge to pound hard and fast. I concentrated on positioning, so his cockhead would brush my prostate, and then it was me moaning. “Feels so good.”
“So hot,” he gasped and thrust his hips up as I pushed back down on him. I stopped.
I didn’t have to say anything. He looked at me with a sheepish grin and relaxed his ass back down to the mattress. “Wait until I tell you to, Brantley.”
I waited an extra beat to prove my point, then started the lift all over again. Torturously slow. I had my hands behind me on his knees, but I wanted more leverage, more control. “Scoot up some. Toward the headboard.” Brantley tightened his grip on my thighs and did as I asked, which allowed me to lean forward and put my hands on the wall behind the bed. “Yeah…” I wiggled my way up and down his cock a little faster.
Brantley grunted, but held still as I moved on him. I watched his face and the tense muscles in his shoulders. When he tightened and thrashed his head back and forth, I stopped and grabbed the base of his dick below my ass. He panted heavily.
“Don’t come, Brantley. Not yet.”
After a second, he rasped out, “I’m okay. I’m good.”
I started moving again. Using my thighs, my arms, shoulders and abs, I rolled over him, taking him as deep inside me as I could go before pulling up again. I set a moderate pace, feeling the burn in my quads.
I stopped again.
“Please, please…” Brantley muttered.
“Not yet. One more time.”
He nodded again and closed his eyes. His little pink tongue darted out to lick his lips and I could see the sweat along his blond bangs. I pushed them out of his eyes and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, shifting my ass in the process. Brantley groaned again. “You’re killing me.”
I chuckled. “Not yet.”
“Okay. Go. Please.”
I shifted around until I was comfortable and then started to move again. This time I picked up the pace and all sorts of noises came from Brantley. I loved every grunt, every ah, and every moan. I clenched my asshole tight, making him call out, a high pitched noise, not really even words but those sounds had my broken heart realigning a little more.
My previous lover had never let me have control. Not like this. He had taken what he wanted and left me cold and lonely and broken. Brantley, though, he submitted to me like he was made to do it. He never complained. Never asked why. He saw what I needed and gave it to me.
“Thrust baby. Help me out.” At my command, he slid his hands up to cup my ass and lifted his hips off the bed. He met my movements with the flex of his hips and his thick cock stroked my insides, taking me higher. I grunted and squeezed tighter around him.
“Remy…please…I’m gonna…I gotta…”
“Yes, now. Come, baby.” As soon as I felt him squirt inside me, I lost it. My eyes fluttered shut and stars flashed brightly. I shot out over Brantley’s abdomen and chest without having to touch my cock at all. I felt incredibly full and loved. I slid forward, shifting my legs back and lay on top of him, my cum squishing and smearing between us. Brantley ran the palms of his hands over my shoulder and back, soothingly.
It wasn’t hard to drift off into that in between state, where I wasn’t really asleep but I wasn’t really awake, either. At least until Brantley shoved me off to the side. Instead of getting up, though, he started reaching toward the end of the bed and twisting around. “What are you looking for? Ugh…stop, Brant.”
“It’s okay. Got it.”
A moment later, a cold wet cloth dragged over my stomach, around my cock, and between my legs. “Cold, gah!”
It only lasted long enough for Brantley to clean us up and then he pulled me against him and we shifted around until our arms and legs were tangled and my face was planted against his chest. He smelled a little like sweat and sex and something exotic and peppery and safe.
I woke up to Brantley’s warm mouth coaxing my cock back to life. I couldn’t complain about that, at all. Hot and wet and sucking me down, his tongue lapped up the pre-come dripping from my head. He drove me crazy with his slow ministrations until I groaned loudly.
“Ah…you are awake.”
Brantley chuckled before taking me deep. Now fully awake, my cock was hard and demanding and Brantley lacked a gag reflex. I could never treat him the same, my blow jobs included mostly hand and sucking the crown or I’d choke myself, but not Brantley. He sucked and licked and tugged at my balls, making my hips thrust forward of their own accord.
My fingers reached out and grabbed a handful of golden hair. It only took a heartbeat and an exhale of breath before I was fucking his face, holding him where I wanted him and stroking my cock across his tongue. He let me. He wanted it. He was amazing.
Brantley’s hands pushed against the mattress on either side of my hips. His mouth made slurping noises. I grunted and moaned—it felt like heaven. There was nowhere else I’d rather be than in that pleasurable moment. “Brantley…touch yourself. I’m gonna come.”
The mattress shifted as Brantley reached for his cock. Just the thought of him stroking his cock pushed me closer to my orgasm.
“So sexy. Brantley…ah…come with me. Now.”
Brantley’s low moan did it. I came hard and fast, screaming his name. When the stars finally faded, Brantley climbed up my body and snuggled in beside me. We lay there in the dark, just breathing each other in.
“What time is it?”
“Really early. But you don’t have to go anywhere, Remy. Relax.” He was right. We hadn’t planned anything for the next day. It was nice lying here, not having to get up and get dressed or run off in a hurry. We could enjoy each other, the feel of his warm skin pressed against mine, the hair of his legs rough against my own as they tangled. The morning scruff on his chin scratched against my shoulder.
“I could get used to this.”
“You could skip a few steps and move in now.” My mind went blank.
That was a hard concept for me. Things needed to happen in order. I needed to follow a plan. But I’d never gotten this far with anyone before. Maybe I could adjust the plan. Maybe I could modify my expectations.
“Forget it,” Brantley grumbled. “It’s fine. Everything’s perfect. Forget I said anything.” He turned around in the bed and pulled the comforter over his shoulder.
“No. Wait.” I leaned into his back, wrapping my arm around his waist. “You caught me off guard and I’m not good with…you know. Quick changes are hard.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He covered my arm and hand with his own, clasping our fingers together.
“Don’t be. I like this. I want more of it. A lot more, Brant.”
“So? You’ll think about it?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking. You haven’t slept over at my house, yet. So we need to do that. I mean, maybe you’d rather move in with me? We should, uh…try it out.”
“That sounded like a yes.” The hope in his voice had me chuckling. He had put up with a lot from me and he was still here. Wanting more. He made me want to give him more. I could compromise.
“It was a maybe.”
“I’ll take it.”
I couldn’t believe he’d said maybe. I couldn’t believe he spent the rest of the morning cuddling with me and whispering sweet nothings to each other and talking about the possibility of a future together. And soon. Not like a year from now, but weeks, maybe even days.
When we got up, Remy took a shower and spent an inordinate amount of time digging through that pink box of his. He brushed his teeth, shaved, put on some kind of face lotion and shook his inhaler, but he didn’t use it. Maybe he was just checking how much was left in it. I had no idea. There was still a lot I didn’t know about Remy but I wanted to find out. I wanted to know everything about him. He fascinated me. Captivated me. He was going to give me a chance to discover more.
“Yeah?” He walked back into the bedroom and stood in front of me, expectantly.
“You know. Everything, and taking a chance on me. Changing your plans.”
He smiled. “I want to be with you, too.”
“Good. ‘Cause I have to tell you something. I don’t want you to freak out our anything. Okay?”
“I think I love you. No. I’m pretty damn sure of it. Yeah. I love you, Remy.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, his mouth parted, showing pearly white teeth, and his eyes widened and sparkled with delight. “I love you, too. I… Uh, I wouldn’t have even considered this moving in thing, if I didn’t. You know that right?” He looked down at his sexy bare feet. Yeah, I loved them too.
“I thought you might just like bossing me around.” I cocked my head to the side, as if I was seriously contemplating that.
“What? No. I mean I do. Love bossing you around but I love you, too. I love that you let me.” He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my neck.
I chuckled softly. “I know.” I tilted my head back, begging silently for a kiss, and Remy obliged me.
It would never be easy with him and I had a feeling Remy would always have some surprises in store for me but he was amazing.
“Now pack your shit so you can stay at my house. Then, we can pick where to live.”
“Can I put my stuff in your pink box?”
Remy rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Brant. Whatever you need for an overnight stay.”
I want to take a second to thank the awesome people at my Lynn Michaels Facebook page for contributing ideas, reading about it, and listening to me go on about this one. I have the best readers ever. Thanks, y’all…