St-st-stuffed

by Anyta Sunday

  Hands traveled over every part of his body, and compliments sexy and sincere flew out of Paul's mouth as he explored.

  He ended the massage, deep and probing, at his ass. Karl couldn't help it; he thrust into Paul's hands and back into the bed.

  Karl groaned when Paul started trailing kisses, tongue flicking out with them, over the small of his back and then between his cheeks, over his entrance all the way to his balls.

  "Oh, God, hurry it up. Fuck," he groaned and then added, "me. Now."

  With relief he heard the condom packet tearing, and the click of the lube cap. Cool gel tickled him as drops landed on his lower back and ass cheek. A wet finger drew through the lube and dipped to his entrance, probing—"Yes, finally." Karl moved into the sensation, needing more of it, and immediately. He gripped the bedcovers and moaned.

  Paul's warm body touched the back of his, and then his voice came at Karl’s ear. "Turn over. I want to see you."

  Want to see you, too. He twisted onto his back. When their gazes met, Paul leaning over him, Karl caught his breath. Only to slowly let it go as he brought his legs around Paul's shoulders. He noted the smile in his eyes as his man kissed a line down his thigh.

  Karl, trembling with want, tugged on Paul's hair, steering him to finally start.

  Paul hesitated and leaned forward for a kiss. He angled his cock to Karl’s entrance and nudged against him. He was so hard, and Karl wanted every inch of it.

  Paul pushed forward slowly, agonizingly so. Karl's eyes rolled back. “More.”

  With a groan, Paul pushed in to the hilt. “You feel so fucking intense. Tight.” He withdrew and surged forward again, and Karl arched into it. Yeah, he liked Paul so deep.

  The lust in Paul’s expression piqued and then he was lost, murmuring sweet and dirty as he plunged harder and faster into Karl. When Paul gripped his cock, Karl couldn’t keep his eyes open, and he had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, but whatever it was, it encouraged Paul. It was insane to feel this good. Never been this good before.

  Paul was in him now. Paul who made his life so much fuller—richer. He groaned as the thrusts strayed over his prostate, and shivers exploded through his body, building, building, building to a climax.

  Paul moaned. "Feel so . . . incredible."

  He opened his eyes. Paul was so beautiful in the midst of passion, muscles cording, hips thrusting, heated gaze burning into him. Paul thrust in to the hilt and swiveled.

  “Paul! So fuck. Good.”

  Paul held still, and ducked for a kiss. But he moved away too soon.

  "Have to kiss you, more." Karl lifted up enough, joining their mouths together. Then, changing their positions so he was astride Paul, he held the man close to him, and continued to kiss him. He brushed the sweaty locks out of Paul's eyes. Inside, he churned with pleasure, the need to smile unstoppable. All he wanted was to make Paul feel the same way—the best he possibly could. Both in and out of the bedroom. "We come together," he murmured into his mouth.

  And Karl squeezed his thighs against Paul as he lifted off him and plunged down. Paul gasped and grabbed his thighs as Karl did it again, moving up and down, up and down, watching as Paul lost himself in sensation.

  “I’m close!”

  Karl took himself in hand, he was so hard and, and—“Now.”

  They came together. Hard, Paul’s cock pulsing in him as Karl came over Paul’s stomach.

  He collapsed on Paul and sought for a kiss. Hands cupped his face, scratching over slight stubble. This was unlike anything he'd experienced before. And he knew why.

  It was the first time he'd ever made love.

  He broke their contact and buried his face into the side of Paul's neck, silently mouthing three little words against his skin. Paul embraced him tightly, and Karl wondered if it said as much as he just had.

  20

  Karly

  SIX THE NEXT evening, they finally dragged themselves from the bed. Karl rubbed his backside, shooting Paul a look. “Gonna be fun sitting down today.”

  Paul's gaze darted to Karl's backside and he grinned. "Why sit down at all? There's just so much to catch up on."

  Karl whipped a towel at him, and Paul arched forward to avoid the contact.

  "It’s not all going to happen in one weekend."

  "Tja. Pity." Then he yanked the towel from Karl's hand. "Just have to wait until next month then."

  "What?"

  Paul frowned. Looked at him. "When Charlie's away again."

  "You have got to be—" Karl started and stopped. Paul's lips twitched. A dimple surfaced. "Good one, Paul. Had me." And for a sec, he really had. He let out a relieved breath. "Get that hot ass in the shower. I'm gonna straighten this place before Sue and Timothy drop your son off." Or one look and it'd out Paul for him.

  "Yeah, scrub the table again, please."

  "Sure." Though more important would be shoving the books back in the shelves. He pulled on a pair of pants and a T-shirt from Paul's closet. He liked that the guy's clothes, although clean, still sort of smelled like him. Okay, and they felt cuddly. Snug as a bug in a rug. Jesus he was in a fine mood.

  He did a quick round with the vacuum after clearing the floors and washing the surfaces. Then he cleared all the trashcans and disposed of the rubbish. His foot tapped and he hummed as he washed his hands in the main bathroom.

  Yep, real fine.

  Paul snuck up behind him as he checked out the contents of the fridge for something they could make for dinner. Arms pulled against him, hugging him tight against Paul's chest.

  Then lips dragged from his shoulder, up his neck to his ear. Where a tongue flicked his lobe. "Mmmm," Paul breathed.

  "You get I just cleaned up in here, right?" Karl pressed back a little closer. Shook his head. "Obviously not."

  "Can't help it." Paul tugged at the collar of the T-shirt with his teeth. "You just look so good in my clothes. Turn around."

  Karl complied, shutting the fridge door as he did. He stared at Paul a moment, then grinned.

  "Well, it's a touch tight on you,” Paul said, “but I'd say it makes for a darn good fit." He slid his hands over the pair of jeans and hauled Karl’s ass closer. "Yeah. Peel those off you later."

  But right now he—they—really needed to get their heads out of their pants.

  Paul chuckled. "God, I'm such a horndog. It's just—you—wow. And . . . yum." His gaze clouded over again, then he shook his head as if to snap out of it. "Sorry. It's just . . . never been that good before."

  Karl smiled and kissed him lightly. "The same for me." And help, was that true. He'd had plenty of good sex. But nothing as intense as it was with Paul.

  Lifting a finger, Paul wiped the side of Karl's mouth. Drool? The man smirked. "I'm inclined to believe you." Then he practically leaped away from him.

  Huh? Karl raised a brow.

  "Just—distance is good. Gotta get back into my Papa frame of mind."

  Laughing, Karl focused on what to make for dinner again. Then, for a second time, shut the fridge. "Okay, will Charlie be joining us for dinner?"

  "Nope. Sue mentioned something about bringing him back after eating."

  "Then I vote we get room service tonight. Besides the fact I really need to go shopping, I'm feeling lazy. Can't be bothered cleaning up the kitchen a second time today."

  Paul rubbed an apple on Karl’s—well, Paul’s—T-shirt. Crunch, he bit into it, little sparks of juice spraying into the air. "Works for me," he said, after swallowing.

  The doorbell rang. Paul set down the fruit, and streamlined to the front door. Karl followed. Yes, the weekend had been fun just him and Paul. Help, loads of fun.

  But he still missed the little monkey.

  Sue came into the apartment, Timothy behind her with a sleeping Charlie cradled in his arms.

  "The last museum tired him out," Timothy said, glancing from Paul to Karl, lingering a moment, and then back to Paul again.

  Sue barely acknowledged his presence. "Paul, dea
r," she said, "I'd like to discuss some issues with you concerning Charlie."

  Although Paul didn't make a sound, Karl was sure, by the shifting of weight onto his other foot and the growing etch between his brows, that he groaned on the inside.

  Help, if he wasn't, Karl was doing it for him. Timothy looked over Karl's shoulder down the hall. Then opened his mouth to say something—probably to suggest putting Charlie down, when Sue's hand flew out to Charlie.

  "There have been a couple of instances, lately," she continued, the calm in her voice fading, "where I’ve had cause to worry about your parenting techniques."

  Karl straightened at that, eyes narrowing in her direction. What the hell was she saying? Paul was doing a wonderful job, and Karl was doing his damn best as well.

  Timothy inched towards the hall, motioning the need to put Charlie down. Karl probably should have followed them, left the conversation Sue was having with Paul, but he couldn't. In so many ways he felt it involved him as well. Especially since he did the main caring for Charlie during the week. And, quite honestly, he intended to keep doing so for a long time. A very long time, if he was lucky.

  "'Butt-load'," she whispered, and Karl tensed, mentally slapping his head, "is an inappropriate term for a child to be casually throwing around. And this weekend, Charlie helped himself to Timothy's shaving cream and spread it everywhere. Used it as if it was spray paint. All over the walls and on my new Persian rug. Laura would never have accepted this. She'd have taught her son correct manners and proper social etiquette."

  Paul flashed a look in his direction, and Karl dropped his gaze to the floor, silently berating himself. And also wanting to shake the woman. Didn't she have a clue about kids being able to enjoy themselves? Have fun? Manners were good and all, for sure, but just her tone was enough to suggest her ideas were over the top.

  But most of all, the slipped in Laura made him pulse with anger. How dare she manipulate Paul’s feelings like this? Karl knew what the mention of her would be doing to him, and combining it to make him feel like he was failing at being a father . . . Attacking his insecurities . . . And she knew it. She must.

  "Now," Sue said, resting a hand on Paul's shoulder, patting it stiffly. Karl gritted his teeth, then ground them together as Sue's voice sweetened. "Think of this as my grandmotherly duty to point out. I understand things are tough for you, and you are doing a good job, considering. However, I feel it would be in Charlie's best interests if he stayed with us more often. Two weekends a month."

  In Charlie's best interests? Oh, hell, no, she didn't just say that. Karl didn't even realize he'd taken a couple of steps forward until Paul shook his head at him. He forced himself to stop. How could Paul just stand there and take that? Shit, his hands were pumping at his sides.

  "Sue," Paul's voice came out cold and hard. Well, that was a start. "Your concern has been noted. However, as we've talked about before, I'm not prepared to give up two weekends a month with Charlie."

  She flushed slightly, yet kept her gaze steady and voice level. "I'll give you some more time to think about it. In the meantime, maybe you should talk to your . . . nanny." And here her gaze did finally seek him. She turned back to Paul.

  Karl rocked on the heels of his feet, glaring at Sue, then looking to Paul. Here was Paul's chance to defend him. To tell Sue what they really were and tell her to get stuffed. Would he?

  Paul licked his bottom lip, and Karl read the hesitation. He held his breath, awaiting the next words out of his mouth. But Paul met his gaze, just before he replied, and there was fear and an apology in his eyes. Karl knew he wouldn't say a thing. Not a thing.

  He couldn't hear it. Or the lack of it. Turning, he walked out.

  The apple lying on the counter top caught his eye. The bite had already browned slightly from sitting out. Picking it up, he bit over the place Paul had. It didn't crunch as much a second time. Didn't taste good either. But maybe that was the disappointment.

  He dropped the apple back on the counter and headed down the unlit hall, almost banging in to Timothy as he exited Charlie's room.

  "Sorry," Timothy said, but didn't move out the way for him to pass. The man looked at Karl's T-shirt. "Is Sue still speaking with Paul?"

  A sharp nod.

  "Right." And then he sighed. "Sorry about that."

  Karl frowned, why did Timothy think he needed to apologize to him? "What for?"

  "Sue. She takes Charlie very seriously. Too much so, sometimes."

  Karl said nothing, just refraining from snapping a rude remark about that being all too true. He veered to pass Timothy, but the older man held out a hand.

  "Just a minute, Karl. I'm actually glad I caught you on your own."

  Okay? "Um, yeah?"

  "I want you to understand. Sue. It's just—she's so . . . so lost without Laura. Even four years down the track, it kills her."

  Karl tried for a sympathetic nod but still riled up, it probably looked curt. Why was Timothy confiding in him like this, anyway?

  "I'm not enough for her," Timothy said, "never was. Charlie keeps her going. I wish I could tell her to back off, to leave Paul alone, but I can't. No, not can't—won't. It breaks my heart to see hers broken. That little boy in there keeps hers together. Keeps mine together, too." His breath shuddered. "I know it's not fair on Paul, and I see how she twists things to get more time and her say in Charlie's life. I wish it wasn't the case—that it wasn't necessary. But it is, so I let her do it."

  Karl stood frozen, listening, unsure where this was all coming from and how to respond. Timothy caught the confusion, no doubt in his expression. He sighed. "Look, I—I get the feeling you and Paul are . . . close."

  Karl's skin prickled at his careful wording.

  "And Charlie is besotted with you. He said this weekend he wishes you were also his papa."

  The hardest, biggest lump filled Karl's throat. He swallowed, but the pressure wouldn't diminish. It felt like confetti exploded inside him, and he had the urge to rush into Charlie's room and hug him. Instead, he hung on to everything coming out of Timothy's mouth.

  "I think that triggered her mood this evening. It scared her."

  "What are we talking about here, exactly?" Karl uttered, somehow. He wasn't sure it was even audible.

  Timothy didn't answer him directly. "We used to be closer to Paul until recently. He's important to us—especially after Laura, though before, too, of course. We always feared him moving on, though." Here his gaze wandered down the hall, to the light at the end.

  "We're not stupid enough to expect it wouldn't happen. In fact, a big part of both me and Sue hopes he finds someone, and that he is happy again. But we were—are—worried that when that happens, Paul will start a new family life. That we'd be pushed to the sidelines. Sue, grappling for more time with Charlie, exerting her will on how he is raised . . . I think it's because she's scared of that." Timothy scratched the back of his head, then met Karl's gaze square on. "She's threatened. And it's because Paul has moved on, hasn't he?"

  Again, Timothy looked at his T-shirt. Did he know this was Paul's or something? Karl's mouth dropped open. He knew he had to say something here. That he should be forming some thought, something, but all he could do was stand. Speechless.

  "You don't need to say anything," Timothy continued. "The way you two look at each other says enough . . . I've noticed over the last three months. But I know Paul has to be the one to tell us. I guess, why I'm saying all this . . . I want you to understand where we're coming from. We don't want to lose contact with Charlie in any way. And we want Paul to stay part of our family even if he has moved on. We accept that, and we will accept who he has moved on with." His brow raised at the end, a clear: we all know what and who I'm talking about here.

  And he did.

  Finally, he found some semblance of thought—and voice. "I wish you would say all this to Paul. He's the one that needs to hear it."

  "No, you both do." A pause. Sigh. "We're coming into town next weekend fo
r the annual book fair. I hope to talk to him then." Timothy nodded twice, and then passed Karl on his right. "Oh, and I think you're doing a fine job with Charlie. Being a parent is a tough job. I think under all Sue's arguments, she thinks Charlie's turning out to be a fine young boy."

  Alone in the ever-darkening hall, Karl ran through Timothy's speech again. And again. There was a lot to take in, and his emotions varied. Especially about Sue. From frustrated and angry to understanding and sympathetic. Mostly still upset, because Paul didn't deserve any of this shit.

  But the biggest feeling still fluttered in his gut. Karl closed his eyes briefly against the strength of it. Carefully opening the door, he slid into Charlie's room. Crouched at the side of the bed and watched him sleep. His soft dark hair just like his papa's, the puffy cheeks, the light steady breathing. "Love you too, little buddy."

  * * *

  "I'm sorry," Paul said when he let himself into Karl's room.

  Though he told himself to take his earphones off and listen to Paul, he couldn't. For one, he was still a little miffed that Paul hadn't stood up for him before, but for another, he was perplexed at everything Timothy had told him.

  His gaze briefly crossed to Paul leaning back against the door, watching him lying on the bed with his arms behind his head. He returned to staring at the ceiling.

  Maybe he should quit with the little sulking edge he had, but . . . but . . .

  In the corner of his eye, he caught Paul sliding the lock. As much as he wished it not to, that simple movement, knowing it was just him and Paul in the room . . . Dammit, it stirred things. Guess it was impossible to stay upset with the man.

  Still, he continued to study the square-tiled ceiling and hoped his arousal wasn't obvious.

  The comforter tugged as Paul hopped onto the bed. Why was it so hard to keep a straight face right now? Why did he just want to break out into a grin?

  Karl clenched his teeth together. He had every right to be a little put out right now. Paul had some major sucking up to do. Oh, sucking.

  No dammit, pissed off.

  A leg sliced over him, and then Paul was sitting on his stomach, staring down at him. That was when Karl caught sight of the guy's slightly reddened eyes. Quick as a flash, he yanked off his earphones and sat up, grabbing Paul's waist. Shit. What a selfish prick he was. How was all this on Paul? He closed his eyes and crushed the man into a hug.