He was back behind Chance in two long strides, slipping his hands between Chance’s waist and the door to unfasten his pants. Rory couldn’t wait long enough to pull them and his lover’s boots off any more than he could take the time to remove his own clothes. He knew he would be doing well to make sure Chance was stretched enough before Rory took him.
With Chance’s jeans shoved down and out of the way, Rory popped the cap on the lube and slicked up his shaking fingers. He put the lube in his shirt pocket then grasped an ass cheek in each hand and spread Chance wide open, sucking in a breath at the sight of that tight little knot of muscles hidden between the firm globes.
“Rory.” Chance’s voice was rough and urgent as he pressed his ass back into Rory’s hands. “Please, I need you filling me up…ahh, God!”
Rory twisted the finger he had inserted inside Chance’s resistant hole, pushing until he couldn’t go any further. The heat from Chance’s rippling channel sent a shudder through Rory—he had to get his cock buried inside that satiny vise as soon as possible. Still, he made himself slow down, fucking Chance with just one finger until he heard a whispered plea for more. Only then did Rory push against Chance’s snug hole with another finger, applying firm pressure until the clenching ring relaxed enough to allow entry.
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Rory’s cock leaked and throbbed painfully, the need for release making him relinquish his grasp on Chance’s ass to unfasten his own jeans. His other hand kept a steady rhythm, thrusting and twisting his fingers, curving them to brush over Chance’s prostate. The moans falling from Chance’s lips each time Rory rubbed that gland were addictive; Rory knew he would never get enough of them any more than he would ever get enough of the sight before him. Chance spread open, taking Rory’s big callused fingers and loving it, his whole body begging for more…
Rory slid in a third finger rougher than he would have wished, unable to be gentle. He felt like his entire body was on fire—sweat slicked his skin, his muscles were quivering and his balls ached with the need to come. Chance still felt so tight, his inner muscles clamping down so hard on Rory’s fingers that sometimes he was forced to hold them still.
“Damn, Chance, I need in. Too tight, maybe—” Rory gritted his teeth. “God, fuck!”
Chance arched his back and pushed, rotating his hips in a circular move that Rory knew, if done while his cock was buried deep inside, would bring him to his knees. “Do it, baby. Fucking need it.”
Rory reached for the lube and tried to open it with his injured hand, not daring to pull his fingers from Chance’s warmth for fear the little opening would snap back tight and become damn near impenetrable. He finally pulled the cap off with his teeth, then poured a glob right onto his cock before snapping the cap shut.
He tossed the lube carelessly behind him, too focussed on what was happening between him and Chance to worry about where the tube landed. Rory quickly slicked on the viscous stuff and pulled his fingers out of Chance. He lined his cock up to the wrinkled ring of muscles and pushed, unsurprised at the resistance encountered.
“Just do it, Rory,” Chance ordered, eyes closed, arching his back to push his hole against Rory’s cock.
Feeling almost brutish, Rory locked his arms around Chance’s waist and thrust hard.
He heard dual strangled gasps as his cock breached Chance’s body, then his cock head was in. A surge of his hips had his dick forging through the searing tunnel, each rippling move of that gripping flesh branding him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until his hips rested against sweat-slicked skin.
Rory held himself motionless until Chance’s breath turned from harsh pants to softer ones. He slowly began pulling back, watching as his cock slid almost entirely out, feeling RORY’S LAST CHANCE
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each pulsation of protest against his sensitive skin.
It felt so good, so much more than anything Rory had ever expected, as though all the nerve endings in his body were centred on his cock. The sensations as he drove his hips forward again rushed through him in a ferocious wave of passion so intense it stole his breath and had spots dancing before his eyes. He buried himself fully and started to pull back again when a needy whimper slipped from Chance.
“Oh, shit, I can’t… I have to move.”
“Yessss…” Chance rotated his hips as he had when Rory’s fingers were stretching him.
Rory yelled, the sound pulled from his chest and belly at the exquisite swell of pleasure that surged from his cock to his balls then spread through his body like a wildfire. Christ, he knew now that fucking Chance was going to kill him—nothing that felt like this could be survived.
Rory flexed his ass and thrust his cock in fast and hard, pumping into Chance in an increasingly bruising manner—it was a certainty that his hips and Chance’s ass would be sporting some colourful proof of their mating tomorrow if not sooner.
“Rory, baby.” Chance’s voice was thready with need. “Touch me, please. I ache.”
Rory gripped Chance’s cock, feeling the copious amount of pre cum on the mushroomed head. He began fucking into Chance erratically, driven by his body’s needs as he worked the fat dick in his hand.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, Chance! Never…” Rory’s brain shot white-hot as Chance’s inner muscles clamped down hard, trapping Rory’s cock, keeping it buried to the hilt in that searing, clenching tunnel. “Never…not like this—“
Liquid heat spilled onto Rory’s hand as Chance’s dick jerked, filling the air with the scent of cum. Waves of spasms shook the man’s body as he groaned low and long, cock still pulsing, emptying with spurts of cream.
Rory ground against Chance’s ass then rammed his hips forward trying to get deeper, farther as tingling pleasure spread from his tight balls to his cock and back up to the base of his spine. He couldn’t yell, couldn’t breathe. His climax surged and his cock spilled jet after jet of spunk into Chance’s ass as those silky smooth muscles clenched again and again.
Rory did the only thing he could do and held on tight to Chance as his cock pulsed and emptied into his lover’s body. Behind his lids little black dots grew bigger, threatening to do the very thing he feared and take him to his knees. Rory released Chance’s dick and grabbed RORY’S LAST CHANCE
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onto his other arm, clutching his forearms and leaning heavily against Chance. He had to lock his knees to keep them from hitting the floor.
Eventually he became aware of the fact that he was squashing Chance against the door.
Chance’s shallow breaths told him the man was being squeezed and squished uncomfortably even though he never said a word. Then again, Rory panicked, maybe he couldn’t.
Rory loosened his hold and stepped back from Chance so fast they both stumbled backwards, arms flailing for balance, tangling themselves in shoved-down jeans and elbows and boots. Rory managed, barely, to grab Chance and toss him onto the bed then Rory was landing beside him, feeling ten kinds of a fool for forgetting about the fact neither of them had shucked all their clothes.
Rory groaned and flopped onto his back, arm slung over his eyes, certain Chance would think him a horny kid who couldn’t hold it together long enough to get their clothes off. Christ, he’d gone after the man like a starving person would tuck into a steak.
No control, no finesse, just hormones and need. Fuck. He felt the bed shift right before he heard the thud of one boot then the other hitting the floor. Rory started when he felt hands on his chest unbuttoning his shirt. He lifted his arm just enough to peek out from under it.
Chance smiled in a lazy, sated way that had Rory’s heart pinching. As he watched his lover, he saw there was no anger or disgust on Chance’s face. No, the man looked pleased and a little smug judging by the wink he gave Rory.
“Think you can get up and get naked, baby? I could use a shower and a certain someone to rub my back.”
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Chance’s eyes were glinting with a teasing light that broke through the knot of fear and insecurity Rory had felt engulfing him. This man, Rory knew, had an almost frightening impact on his emotions—but he wouldn’t back away for the world. Sitting up, he smiled at Chance, reaching out to stroke a finger over the older man’s tanned, stubbled cheek.
“Whatever you say, boss. Whatever you say.”
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Chapter Twelve
Chance started the shower, giving Rory the time to get his clothes off. He was still feeling a bit boneless after the way Rory had fucked him—Christ, he couldn’t remember ever having such an erotic experience before. Rory had taken charge and Chance had let him, willing and eager to take a submissive role to Rory’s demanding alpha outburst. Chance understood it—the younger man had needed to be in control after talking about what had happened to him, and Chance had certainly enjoyed the hell out of it. He’d held himself so tightly in check for so many years that letting go of all control had been a near-orgasmic experience in itself—and holy shit, Rory could fuck like a man possessed. Just thinking about it had Chance’s knees feeling weak again.
Rory stepped into the bathroom distracting Chance from his thoughts. Hard to think, period, with all that taut naked flesh on display.
He felt unsettled inside, as weakened by the emotions flaring up as he had been by the physical act between them. Looking at Rory now, at his guileless blue eyes that couldn’t hide his thoughts or feelings, Chance felt something still inside himself.
“Rory…I…” Chance gave in and reached for Rory, pulling him in close. He tenderly stroked a curl off the younger man’s sweaty brow. How could he explain these new feelings that had grown over the past weeks? Chance wasn’t sure he could. He tipped his chin up, bringing his lips to Rory’s plump mouth.
With the pressing need temporarily sated, Chance was able to savour the feel of Rory’s swollen lips against his own. He cupped the back of Rory’s neck and head with both hands as the younger man’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling their upper bodies together until nothing could slip between them. The taste of Rory’s mouth was thrilling—Chance licked deeper into Rory’s moist heat, tongues brushing against one another languorously.
Chance was so lost in the kiss that he had no idea how much time had passed. “Come on, Rory.” Chance stepped back and grinned. “I’m afraid the water may be cold now. You want to wait a bit to shower?” Chance stuck his hand under the shower spray and quickly pulled it back out. “Shit!” He glanced back to see Rory’s lips twitching with amusement.
“Little cold?”
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“Damn near freezing. It’d definitely wilt your weenie.”
Rory looked startled for all of two seconds before he burst out laughing. “Oh, Christ, Chance!” Rory swiped at his eyes as he shook his head. “I seriously did not need that image—or the phrase ‘wilt your weenie’—to be stuck in my head.”
Chance could swear he could feel the red flush crawl over his skin as he turned off the water. He’d spoken without thinking, but if a little embarrassment on his part had Rory laughing so joyously, Chance knew he’d do it again. And again, because Rory lit up with laughter was a beautiful sight unmatched by anything he could think of.
“Well, I guess I just liked the semi-alliteration.” Chance pretended to think it over, tapping his index finger against his chin before nodding. “Yeah, I just don’t think shrinking your shaft or cowering your cock has quite the same effect.”
Rory laughed again and reached for Chance’s hands. He laced their fingers together and tugged until only a few inches separated them. A serious light sparked in his blue eyes, all traces of laughter now gone.
“Chance.”
His name came out as a breathless whisper. Chance felt his heart thump frantically against his ribs. Everything in Rory’s demeanour warned him of what the man wanted to say. He shook his head at Rory, just a slight movement so as not to break away from Rory’s gaze. Chance saw a flare of pain in that gaze and shook his head again.
“I’m not dismissing what you want to say. I wouldn’t do that. I just…” Am scared as hell to believe it. “I just want you to think about it, be sure that you aren’t just being influenced by how goddamned perfect the sex—”
Rory jerked his hands free and stepped back, pain etched into white lines bracketing his mouth, his full lips pressed into a narrow slash of anger.
“Rory—” Chance stepped towards him, hand extended, guilt driving him to try to soothe away the hurt he’d caused.
“No.” Rory backed further away, denying Chance absolution. “You think I’m too damn stupid to know what I think, what I feel?” Rory’s eyes were almost black, the deep blue irises nearly swallowed by the dilated pupils. “You think I’m some fucking flighty kid?”
Chance almost dropped his hand, almost gave up in the face of Rory’s anger. Wouldn’t that make me the flighty one, to give up so fucking easily? No, he had done this with his own thoughtlessness, and he would damn well fix it. Chance moved forward, matching his steps RORY’S LAST CHANCE
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to Rory’s retreating ones. When Rory’s back hit the bathroom door, Chance grabbed the man’s wrist, holding it firm when Rory tried to shake free.
“Fucking let go, Chance!” Rory’s eyes blazed with anger, and Chance had a moment’s worry that the younger man might knock the hell out of him.
He gave a mental shrug, deciding that if Rory did swing at him it was only what he deserved. When Rory did nothing more than vibrate with hurt and fury, Chance stepped closer. He’d given Rory an opportunity to lash out—now he would make such a move difficult.
“Listen to me.” The use of his best boss voice had the desired effect, snapping Rory’s mouth shut. Chance brought his other hand up and reached for Rory’s cheek, pushing aside his own hurt when the man flinched as if to evade the touch. He stroked Rory from cheek to chest, stilling his hand over Rory’s pounding heart.
“I didn’t mean any of those things—you aren’t stupid or flighty.” Chance saw confusion replace some of the anger in Rory’s eyes.
“Then what the—”
Chance shook Rory’s wrist to shut the man up, took a deep breath to clear his own thoughts.
“I fucked up, Rory, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Chance looked away for a moment, shaken by the depth of pain he saw in Rory’s expression.
“Then what did you mean to do, Chance? Because I don’t know.” Rory reached up and grasped Chance’s chin, pulling his head back around to meet Rory’s confused blue eyes.
“What do you want from me, Chance? You don’t want a casual fuck, but you don’t want emotional involvement?” Rory shook his head. “Do you even know what you want?”
Rory frowned at him as Chance considered the man’s questions. No way did he want to screw up all over again.
“Yeah.” Chance tipped his chin out of Rory’s hold. “I do know what I want. But first, what I meant was, make sure you’re sure. No.” He pressed a finger against Rory’s lips. “No.
This time, you listen to what I’m saying before you get all pissed off.”
Chance held Rory’s stare until he nodded in agreement, then he stepped back, not wanting to influence Rory with the strength of their physical attraction.
“I meant, be goddamned sure, Rory, because if you say it, I’m not letting you go.” The stunned look on Rory’s face would have been priceless had Chance been able to see past his RORY’S LAST CHANCE
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own need to ensure that his lover understood just how serious he was.
“What I want from you is exactly what you want to offer. But what I need,”—Chance’s hands fisted at his sides—“is for you to stop thinking that I don’t respect you, because I do, a
nd as long as you don’t get that then shit like this will keep happening. I’m not saying this is your fault, but…”
God, no doubt he was screwing up all over again. Rory looked confused as hell, but Chance made himself forge on—he had to make the man understand.
“You didn’t even give me a chance to explain before you got pissed. You just assumed the worst. Doesn’t say much for your opinion of me, but I can see where it might take a while to undo the damage I’ve done.” This time it was Chance who stepped backwards as Rory approached.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I know you haven’t accused me of being any of the things I said. You’re not someone who plays games or uses people. I know that, I just…” Rory looked stumped for an explanation.
Chance stayed quiet, giving the man time to figure out what he wanted to say. He wasn’t going to jump in with any assumptions—that kind of thing was what had led to this whole misunderstanding.
Rory gave a start, cheeks flushing red with his sudden comprehension. He looked at Chance and was embarrassed and so cute with it that Chance found it difficult not to intervene.
“Shit. I think…I think I let insecurity take over.” Rory shuddered, actually shuddered as though the confession were distasteful. “Uh. I can see maybe how this whole talking about feelings and stuff is uncomfortable.” He offered Chance a sheepish smile.
Smiling back, Chance felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “Yeah, it is, and I think both of us will probably fuck it up plenty of times. But—and here’s the important part, Rory—”
Chance gave in to the need to touch and took Rory’s hands. “If we both try to remember that this whole relationship thing is something new—I’m thinking you haven’t done this much more than I have, right?”
Rory laughed and squeezed Chance’s hands. “I don’t think what happened with…with Art was what you’d exactly call a relationship, so no.” Ruddy slashes marked Rory’s cheeks at the admission as he looked away.
“Wait. What…” Chance ran Rory’s statement over again is his mind and still came to RORY’S LAST CHANCE
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