by T. M. Smith
“He never made you feel like this, did he? Never made you feel wanted, cherished, treasured.” Body tensing up, Mannie gasped, whether it was Blair’s words or his finger brushing over his sweet spot, he didn’t know. But they were way past time for Mannie to be able to differentiate between the two men. And if Blair had to push him over that last hurdle to get there, so be it.
Long blond hair fanned out over the pillow as Mannie shook his head, making the man look like a debauched angel in the throes of passion. Blair almost blew his load. “N…no, no he didn’t.” Voice even deeper than normal, Mannie’s words climbed down Blair’s body, grabbing his balls and tickling the skin.
“Jesus, Mannie, what you do to me.” Pulling his fingers from Mannie’s body, Blair tried not to grin when the man cursed, glaring up at him. “Patience, baby. We have all the time in the world.”
He reached for the condoms, never taking his eyes off his lover, anxious but very aware of every move Mannie made. Tearing one off the sleeve, he sat back on his heels, using his knees to spread Mannie’s legs as he rolled the latex down his throbbing shaft. He couldn’t remember a time in his life he’d ever been harder. But it was so much more than that; it was a bone-deep need to make Mannie his, for the two of them to join together and create a moment, a memory unlike any either of them carried in their hearts.
Mannie’s eyes drifted down, widening, and he licked his lips as he watched Blair generously lube his cock. Ever conscious of his lover’s body language, Blair slowly leaned forward. Grabbing the headboard with one hand and using his legs to brace his weight, he rubbed the head of his cock over Mannie’s thoroughly greased hole before sliding into his body, wincing when Mannie’s channel tightened around him to the point of pain. “Look at me, baby.” Brushing a few stray hairs off the trembling man’s cheek, he smiled when Mannie looked up at him. “Your body, what you’re giving me right now, it’s a fucking gift, something to be treasured.” Pulling out, Blair slid a little farther in, happy when Mannie responded with a slight thrust of his hips. “I’ll always take care of you, Mannie. I’ll never hurt you, I promise.” Fully seated, he began rocking his hips—slow, deep strokes that left Mannie breathless and moaning.
“I…I…more, Blair. Please, give me more.” Mannie begged, and Blair couldn’t deny him. Grabbing Mannie’s hips, he lifted the younger man’s legs, placing them over his shoulders and thrust deeper, faster and harder. “Oh God, you feel…so good, so right.”
Three words danced around in his mind, just three little words. But Blair refused to say them until he was certain they came from his heart and not from the lack of blood and oxygen to his brain or in the heat of the moment. Mannie had been through too much; he deserved the best and that was all that Blair wanted to give him. “Blair, I never knew it could feel like this.” Mannie’s body was loose and pliable, his long legs wrapping around Blair’s waist, his hips lifting to meet each and every thrust Blair gave him. He stared up at him, eyes wide and full of wonder, fingers digging into Blair’s shoulders painfully. But he’d be damned if he’d stop now, not when they were both so close to bliss.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.” He bent, swallowing the delicious moan Mannie fed him, tongues twirling as passionately as their bodies were. Every muscle in his lover’s body began to tense, his channel tightening and contracting as his cock erupted between them, wet heat coating his belly. Mannie cried out as he came. Just a few quick thrusts and Blair fell over the edge with him, filling the condom with his seed.
Once the room stopped spinning, he pulled out and fell onto the bed beside Mannie. “Here, let me help you with that.” Blinking, he watched his lover slowly remove the condom, tie it in a knot, and toss it into the small trash can beside the bed. “That was pretty fucking amazing.” Mannie pushed him over to his back, straddling him.
“Yeah? Well, if you keep that up, I’ll have to fuck you again.” Blair lifted his hips, absolutely loving the flash of lust he saw in Mannie’s intense blue gaze.
“But, Agent, I believe that next time will be my turn.” Mannie waggled his eyebrows comically.
“You little shit.” He reached up, grabbing the younger man by the arms, and pulled him down. Mannie was giggling until Blair’s tongue licked his lips, and then he was groaning, body responding eagerly to his ministrations. Jesus, but he could lie in bed and kiss Mannie all damn day, every fucking day. Lips soft and supple, Mannie tasted like rain on a summer day, sweet and tart. Coming up for air, sadly, he pushed damp, blond hair behind Mannie’s ear, smiling up at him. “I’m yours, baby…any way you want me.”
Chapter 20
Mannie
“Damn it all to hell!” Slamming his laptop closed, he stood and paced the length of the small bedroom he used as an office. Blair hadn’t been gone but a few days, and it was already driving Mannie crazy. Like the first scramble of ants at a picnic, little jolts of fear and anxiety numbed his limbs, starting at his toes and sporadically working up his body. “Stop it, Mannie. Just look at yourself. This is insane.” Whether it was the fact that Blair was gone and that tiny little bastard sitting on the stem of his brain kept whispering, He isn’t coming back, or the fact that he hadn’t taken his anti-anxiety medication in a couple of days—who knew? He stomped into the kitchen and jerked the cabinet door open, snatching the bottle of pills and tearing the cap off. Swallowing the tablet dry, he leaned against the cabinet, taking a few deep breaths before filling a glass with water to wash down the lump in his throat.
They’d just returned to Mannie’s place after having dinner with Tony, Sharon, and Zoe when Blair’s phone rang, the work one. A case Blair had worked on several months ago was going to the grand jury, and he had to fly to Virginia to testify. It was still strange to think about the fact that his boyfriend had two cell phones, one of which only a handful of people had the number to, and Mannie wasn’t one of them. That fucking phone was a major cause of stress for Mannie, and knowing he was freaking out over something so mundane only made it worse. Would he ever truly be able to let go of the ghosts of the past completely? It was a question better saved for another day. Before a full-blown panic could set in, a soft knock at the door jerked him back to reality. He stomped over to the door and swung it open with enough force that it slammed against the wall. “What?”
“And hello to you too, mijo.” Tony pushed past him, walked over to the couch, and sat down. “Close the door so you can have your temper tantrum in private.”
“What the hell?” He slammed the door. “What d’ya want?” There were two entities battling for dominance inside his body: the nasty little fucker that was always quick to remind Mannie how worthless and useless he was, and the voice of reality, reminding him that Tony was there because he cared about him. And oh yeah, by the way, Blair won’t leave you, you psycho!
“I’m tired and I’m not in the mood.” The words fell off his tongue easily. His actions begged to differ, his body moving of its own accord into the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge. “Here.” He shoved one at Tony, plopping down onto the couch beside him.
“You really shouldn’t wash down your medication with alcohol, but I’m going to give you a free pass…this time.” Guzzling half the bottle of craft beer in one gulp, Tony leaned into the big, comfy cushion and waited, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
“Were you spying on me? Whatever.” Full of piss and vinegar, he downed the tasty brew in a few gulps. Standing and resuming his awkward to and fro, he paced a well-worn path into his living room carpet.
Neither of them spoke. Tony sat idly by, watching him with an indecipherable look on his face. “Jesus, what?” Mannie stopped on a dime, throwing his hands in the air. “I know. I know, okay. He had to go for work and he’ll be back. But at the same time, there’s this small part of me that’s like, ‘He’s fucking lying, just like Bruce. He’s going to crush you, just like Bruce.’ But I know for a fact that he is nothing like Bruce!” Expecting Tony to weigh in with his thoughts as he usuall
y did but getting crickets instead, Mannie squinted, hands on his hips as he glared at his father.
Infuriated by Tony’s silence, he trudged through the small home to the kitchen, grabbing just one beer for himself and flinging the cap onto the granite countertop before waltzing into the living room. “Why’d you even come over here if you’re gonna sit there like a bump on a log?” His limbs were loose and a bit shaky; obviously his medication was kicking in. That, coupled with the alcohol, rendered his inhibitions null and void. “I’m pissed, okay? I’m angry with myself for even thinking that Blair would ever hurt me. I’m frustrated that I couldn’t muster up the courage to ask if I could go with him, if it was even an option, who knows? I definitely don’t know because I was too chickenshit to even ask.” Cold liquid dripped down his chin as he gulped the beer faster than he could swallow it.
The room spun slightly as he leaned against the windowpane, loving the cool feeling of the chilled glass on his forehead. “I miss him like crazy, isn’t that funny? Two months ago I didn’t know Agent Blair Cummings from Adam. I was content in my quiet little life here and my job behind the scenes where I didn’t have to deal with people. But then I met him and…everything changed. I think it changed faster than I was ready for, and it’s left me uncertain, and I don’t know how I feel about that.” And there it was, the root of it all. Could he go back to his routine before he met Blair? No, absolutely not. Now that he’d gotten a taste of what happiness could be, he couldn’t give it up. But was he ready to be the partner of a man that would always have secrets?
“Such is life, Mannie. People come and go, the world continues to spin, and life goes on. I guess the question is, are you ready to thread your life with his? To anchor yourself to him?”
Without a second of hesitation, he turned. “Yes.”
“Well, then.” Tony stood, crossing over to him quickly. “I refuse to end this conversation on a clinical note so I’ll first say, you can’t stop taking your medication because you feel better, mijo. Every. Day. You have to take it every day.” A long silence stretched out between them before Mannie realized that Tony was waiting for him to respond. He nodded quickly. “Come here, dolor en mi culo.” Mannie fell against him, letting Tony support him and share his strength. “I think it might be time to…what is the saying? Shit or get off the pot?”
Cackling, Mannie playfully shoved his dad. “For the record, I am not a pain in the ass. And yes, that is a saying, nasty as it is.” Polishing off the last few sips of beer, he grabbed the empty bottle Tony left on the coffee table and went to toss them into the recycling bin. When he opened the fridge for another, Tony pushed the door closed.
“One was fine, two was pushing it, there will not be a third.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
“But, I drink all the time.” He was fully aware that he sounded like a petulant child.
“In moderation.” Tony glared at him. “And not after missing several doses of your medication.”
Glaring at Tony, he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “Fine.”
“Good boy, now move.” Tony pushed him aside, opening the fridge to grab a beer.
“Hey.” He tried to protest, but his lopsided grin conveyed that he wasn’t serious.
Tony twisted off the cap and slowly sipped from the bottle. “This is really good.”
Focusing on Mannie, he pulled a chair out from the table, motioning for Mannie to do the same and they both sat. “Have you told him how you feel?”
“Meaning?”
“Stop playing dumb. Have you told Blair that you love him?” Tone exasperated, Tony shook his head. “I think tonight was an episode brought on by you not taking your meds, yes, but there’s still the root of the root, the bud of the bud.”
There was more to that statement, right? “Which is? Wait. Isn’t that a poem?”
“It is, but that’s not the point.” Pushing his chair back on two legs, Tony sipped his beer gleefully.
“Oh God, someone shoot me now. What is the point?”
“That is up to you. If you love him, you have to tell him. And if you love him you have to trust him, but more importantly, you have to trust in his love for you. I know it scares you, mijo, putting your heart in someone else’s hands, but given the choice of living without this man now that you’ve found each other…” The silence was maddening, the words Tony didn’t say lingering in the air, stifling and humid.
Between the meds, the beer, and his permanently fragile psyche, it took him a minute to process exactly what Tony had said. “Whoa, wait.” Mannie waved one hand in the air, keeping the other on the table for fear of falling right out of his chair. “His love for me? Did he tell you…that…that he loves me?”
“I didn’t, no, but I do.”
Lightheaded, he looked over to see the very man they were talking about standing in the doorway to his kitchen, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Blair?” Turning and trying to stand proved to be more difficult than it should, especially when his foot got caught in the leg of the chair. Mannie closed his eyes and braced himself, prepared to land face first on the linoleum, but Blair was there to catch him. It was an almost insignificant moment in time, probably no more than three or four seconds, but in Mannie’s overactive imagination, it was a lifetime of promises. Beyond a shadow of a doubt—and he had many, doubts that was—he knew that no matter what, Blair would always be there to catch him were he to fall. “Hey sexy, when did you get back?” In Mannie’s alcohol-induced stupor, he smiled seductively at his man.
Blair cupped his cheek and chuckled softly. “Couple of hours ago. I tried to call but you didn’t answer, so I got an Uber. Come on, babe. Let’s get you off the cold floor and into bed.”
Giggling, he stood with Blair’s help, wrapping his arms around the gorgeous man’s neck. “You like me, you wanna date me, you love me, you wanna kiss me.”
“Quoting Miss Congeniality, ‘You must really be drunk.’ ” Blair smacked him on the ass. “It’s bedtime for you.” Poking his bottom lip out, Mannie pouted but allowed himself to be carefully led toward the bedroom.
Tony sighed. “Definitely tipsy, but he hasn’t taken his meds in a few days either. Not a good combination.”
“Tony is a tattletale!” He sang out.
“If he drank the Espresso Stout I bought last week, those are ten percent alcohol. He’s probably not used to that in a beer.” Blair wrapped an arm around his waist, pushing Mannie’s hand away when he reached for his zipper. “Can we talk tomorrow, Tony?”
“Of course. I’ll lock up on my way out. Good night, you two.”
As soon as the front door opened, then closed, Mannie spun around and tried to kiss Blair, laughing hysterically when they fell against the wall. “All right, you damn lightweight. Cooperate, please.”
“No!” Snorting, Mannie hiccupped, reached for the collar of Blair’s shirt, grabbed a handful and jerked him close, kissing him with reckless abandon. A knee brushed his groin as Blair slid one leg between his. Strong, muscular arms lifted, and though Mannie was closer to drunk than sober, he was coherent enough to realize his body didn’t tense up when Blair pinned him to the wall. Oh, wait, there’s something warm and wet in my mouth. What the heck, I want to kiss my man! Leaning back, he glared at his lover. “Would you get your tongue out of my mouth?”
Pursing his lips, Blair squinted at him. “I thought you wanted my tongue in your mouth.”
“Yes, but I’m trying to kiss you silly.” Mannie guffawed, a loud, tickled laugh, his legs wobbling as he started to slide down the wall. Blair bent down, “What are you…” the man attempted to lift Mannie into his arms. “Would you stop that!” He smacked Blair’s arm, hard, wiggling free of his hold and damn near losing his footing in the process.
“Stop pawing at me, sir. I can walk, ya know.” Running fingers through his messy hair, Mannie turned and slowly headed toward his bed, kicking off his shoes along the way. He grinned, knowing Blair was right behind him.
Chapter 21
Blair
Lord, but drunk Mannie was entirely too fucking cute—exasperating, but adorable nonetheless. And now he was hopping around on one foot with his jeans halfway off, giggling. Blair reached out, catching him before he fell on his ass again. Seating Mannie at the foot of the bed, he kneeled and pulled his pants the rest of the way off. “You said…you love me?”
Stark, fluorescent light from the hallway lit a streak across Mannie’s face. Eyes the color of a perfect spring sky looked down at him, the black of his pupils surrounded by rings of silver fire swallowed by sapphire blue. “You are so beautiful, Mannie.” Standing, he pushed his lover onto the bed, straddling him. “And yes, I do love you, more than you know.”
The kiss was a soft press of his mouth to Mannie’s, chaste, until Mannie licked the seam of his lips. Blair opened up to him, savoring the taste of his lover. Cock already hardening, Blair pushed himself up off the bed, ignoring Mannie’s protest. There was no way in hell they were having sex, not in Mannie’s condition. “Shimmy your sexy ass up the bed and get under the blanket. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re no fun.” Mannie did as he was told, slurring his words and taking his frustration out on the pillow.
Blair chuckled and shook his head as he closed the door to the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers, and brushed his teeth. After relieving his bladder, he flipped the light off as he opened the door and then tiptoed over to the bed. He pulled the blanket up over Mannie’s shoulders, tucking it down. Eyes closed, face a vision of serenity, the man was out cold. He stood there, just watching Mannie for a few moments before walking over to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back, climbing in and scooting up behind Mannie.
Not getting an answer when he tried to call earlier that day to let Mannie know he’d be flying into Phoenix that night wasn’t worrisome. Knowing how Mannie could get lost in a design project, Blair sent a quick text while boarding the plane. When the plane landed and he turned his cell on and there was no response to his call or his text, he became concerned. He texted Tony and got an immediate response. Mannie was fine, just having a bad day. “All right, Uber it is, then.” His phone dinged, Tony telling him the door was unlocked, to come on in when he got there. And so he did, catching the tail end of Tony and Mannie’s conversation.