by Ariel Tachna
The thumb sank deeper, moving around to rub the entire passage. Then it withdrew completely. After a couple heartbeats, a longer finger slid in and kept going until Gerald’s knuckles rubbed Brett’s entrance.
Brett didn’t even try to bite back the cry that tore from his throat at the feeling of the long finger inside him. “So good,” he panted.
Gerald went back to kissing gently along Brett’s jaw as he played with his ass, but he deliberately avoided the spongy bump that would send shocks of sensation into his lover. After a short time, Gerald pulled free and slid two crossed fingers into the tight heat.
Brett writhed on the bed, trying to get the fingers deeper, in just the right spot, but Gerald stayed one step ahead of him, slapping him lightly on the thigh. “You’ll get what you want,” he murmured in Brett’s ear. “Just not yet. Not until you can’t stand it anymore and the only word in your head is my name.” To make his point, he dragged his fingers over the right spot for a mere second.
“Gerry!” Brett shouted as fireworks went off behind his eyelids, only to recede when Gerald’s fingers slipped away from his prostate.
A third finger joined the first two, delving deep and twisting, and without warning Gerald began to rub over Brett’s prostate slow and steady.
Brett trembled, the sudden, repetitive massage overtaxing his senses. He cried out again, some mangled sound that should have been Gerald’s name but didn’t quite make it. The soft, gentle manipulation was enough to fill him with a heated buzzing that propelled him toward climax, but wasn’t enough to push him over the edge.
The corkscrew of fingers inside him left Brett twisting against the delicious friction. He needed more, needed harder, faster, fuller. He sobbed Gerald’s name again and again.
“So handsome,” Gerald whispered as he claimed Brett’s lips and began churning his fingers in and out, truly fucking Brett with them, pressing hard against his prostate every time.
Brett didn’t give a flying fuck about handsome. He just cared that Gerald was finally reaming him hard, driving him wild with need. He thrashed on the bed, feet planted to thrust up into the plunging fingers, vision darkening around the edges as he fought for his release.
“C’mon, lover,” Gerald breathed against his ear, doing his best to give Brett what he needed. His face was flushed, and Gerald could tell he was on the edge. Looking down at the swollen, deep red cock standing from Brett’s belly, he leaned over to lap at the liquid dripping from the head.
That was all it took. Brett groaned and shuddered through his release, the sensations going on and on and on until he was gasping for breath and his muscles were trembling with exhaustion. And still the tremors rocked him. Gerald continued to lick and suck at the twitching cock, catching come on his tongue as he kept screwing his fingers into Brett, extending the orgasm until Brett practically collapsed. As his lover shivered, Gerald pulled his fingers away and helped him lower his legs to the bed.
It took several long minutes for Brett to come down from his high as his ass continued to clench in echoing sympathy. Gerald’s hand tenderly stroking across his chest finally woke Brett enough to open his eyes and meet his lover’s smiling gaze. “You pack quite a punch,” Brett said, his voice still husky and breathless.
“Just for you,” Gerald said.
“Good,” Brett declared firmly, the wave of possessiveness that swamped him enough to make him pull Gerald down next to him and into a tight embrace. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t ever need to move again.
BUSTLING around the kitchen, the slim dark-haired man gathered fixings for coffee and pulled out home-baked cookies, setting it all out on the table. “Now tell us, Brett, how are you? You don’t usually go so long without visiting.” He propped one hand on his slim hip.
“What Jeff says is right, Brett. We’ve missed you,” a white-haired heavy-set man sitting across the table from Brett said.
“I’ve been busy,” Brett admitted with a slight flush. “I have a new student at the stable who’s taking a lot of my time.”
“You spend too much time with your students and not enough time with potential lovers, Brett,” Jeff scolded as he sat down. “Isn’t that right, Bruce?” The older man just nodded as he munched on a cookie.
Brett couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him. “You haven’t seen my student.”
Jeff and Bruce exchanged glances. “Well then,” Bruce drawled. “Do tell.”
“Yes, do tell,” Jeff added as he offered Brett the cookie plate.
“His name’s Gerald Saunders and he’s… special,” Brett said slowly, trying to describe his new lover to his longtime friends. “He’s an accountant, very laid-back. Absolutely gorgeous. And all mine.”
Jeff grinned. “All yours, is he?”
“Does he know that?” Bruce rumbled curiously, wrinkles creasing at his eyes.
Brett shrugged. “Neither one of us is seeing anyone else,” he said. “And we’re together for at least a few hours almost every night, and he’s around all day on the weekends.”
“How do you know he’s not seeing anyone else?” Bruce asked as Jeff filled up the coffee mugs. “Could be going home to someone at night.”
“Bruce,” Jeff scolded.
“If he’s going home to someone as late as he leaves me, that someone is as clueless as they come,” Brett retorted. “And some nights, he doesn’t go home at all.”
“Doesn’t go home?” Jeff asked in surprise. “That’s never happened before. Or at least you haven’t told us if it did. You usually send them on their way because of the farm.”
Brett shrugged diffidently. “Yeah, well, he helps with the farm,” he explained helplessly. “I told you. He’s special.”
Bruce chuckled. “Likes the farm, does he? Well, Brett, you may have found you a good one then.”
“So tell us more about him. Is he hot in bed?” Jeff asked, leaning forward to get the gossip.
“Jeff!” Brett protested, his face flaming, which was already a response in itself. But Bruce’s matching expectant expression meant they wouldn’t let him get away with avoiding an answer. Brett sighed. “Amazing.”
Bruce chortled. “It’s about time. I never did think that young man you had for awhile could do it for you for long.”
“He was a lot of fun, and we had a good time together,” Brett defended. “It was never meant to be permanent, just a way to release some tension for both of us. Gerry’s different, though. He’s, damn, I’ve got to find a better word for it. Special. He found the farm before I started seeing Robbie and started spending a lot of time there before I even realized he was gay. Then we became friends, and only recently lovers. The sex is mind-blowing, but it’s so much more than that.”
“You’re taken with him,” Jeff said knowingly, waving a cookie at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you describe someone like this.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone,” Brett replied.
“Serious stuff, Brett,” Bruce said. “How’s he feel about all this?”
“That’s the problem,” Brett admitted. “I can’t tell. He doesn’t talk about it. And when I try, we always seem to get sidetracked. He’s always affable, always laid-back. I’ll suggest he stay, and he always agrees, but he never asks, never seems upset if I don’t mention it for some reason. It’s like he isn’t thinking beyond the moment, yet I’ve never been happier than when we’re together. It’s just when we’re apart that I’m not so sure he wants the same things I do.”
Jeff looked thoughtful. “Well, could be he’s not serious.” Then he yelped and glared at Bruce, who had kicked him under the table.
“Sidetracked, hmm? Maybe he’s happy with things the way they are,” Bruce suggested. “Serious,” he looked pointedly at Jeff, “but not sure what to do about it.”
“I know he’s serious about it,” Brett agreed, thinking of the decision to get tested and forego condoms. “As for knowing what to do about it, I don’t know. I’ll make comments about the dri
ve to his house and then out to the farm, and he’ll just shrug and say it’s no big deal. He doesn’t seem to catch any of my hints.”
“Has he always been like that? Sort of dense? Or could he be blowing you off?” Jeff piped up.
“He missed all my lines the first day we met,” Brett mused. “I thought he was straight for months.”
Bruce frowned. “But he’s an accountant, an intelligent guy. How can he be that dense?”
Jeff shrugged. “Two plus two always equals four. No reason to think differently.”
“I want to meet this ‘special’ Gerald. Bring him for dinner next week,” Bruce said.
“SO instead of eating here Saturday night,” Brett suggested casually as he and Gerald finished up their chores around the stables, “what if we went out?”
Gerald glanced up from where he was forking hay. He was hot and sweaty, his jeans were a mess, and his boots were worse. He had heavy work gloves on his hands, so when he’d wiped his brow, it was with the back of his forearm, which left his hair ruffled and a little messy. He tossed more straw onto the ground in the stall. “What if?”
“I had dinner with a couple of friends of mine the other night, and they suggested the four of us should have dinner sometime,” Brett explained, not sure quite what to make of Gerald’s answer, “so I thought maybe we could go out somewhere to dinner with them on Saturday.”
“Okay,” Gerald agreed pleasantly as he scraped the last of the hay out of the cart and set the pitchfork aside.
And there was that incredible, wonderful, annoying affability again, Brett thought, hiding a grimace. He wanted Gerald to ask more questions or express some curiosity. The easy acceptance gave Brett no way to judge his way forward. “You need a shower,” he told Gerald, pushing aside dinner with Bruce and Jeff for now in favor of other more immediate concerns. “Are you staying tonight?”
Gerald smiled, glad that Brett asked. He liked being here a lot more than being at home alone. “Sure,” he answered, pulling off his gloves.
Brett wanted to beat his head against the wall. While he was thrilled with Gerald’s answer—he certainly wanted his lover to stay—he wished he could get some indication of whether Gerald had intended to stay or whether it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. “Let’s get cleaned up then,” Brett suggested, “and I’ll see what I can scrounge up for dinner. I haven’t made it to the store yet this week.”
“I could run out and get some stuff if you want,” Gerald offered, grabbing up the pitchfork as he walked to put everything away.
“After you clean up,” Brett reminded him. “They won’t let you in the store smelling like the manure pile. But yeah, that would be great, if you don’t mind. There’s cash on the desk, or—”
“Brett, you feed me like six days a week; I can handle some groceries,” Gerald said, shaking his head as he sat down outside the tack closet to pull off his work boots.
Brett shrugged. “You don’t have to,” he said weakly.
“I know I don’t have to,” Gerald answered as he stood up and put his hands on his hips as he watched his lover. “But what kind of house guest would I be if I didn’t chip in? See you at the house.” Then he turned and padded out in his sock feet, whistling as he walked away.
Brett stood there in shock. Guest. After all the months of working side by side and the weeks they’d been lovers, Gerald still considered himself a guest. Slowly, mind reeling, Brett walked over to Shah’s stall, rubbing the stallion’s nose when he butted his head against Brett’s chest. “You’ve got it easy, old man,” he said hoarsely. “Just wait until the ladies are in heat and then do your thing. What the fuck am I doing wrong? How can he not realize how crazy I am for him? He stopped being a guest about the same time he started leaving stuff in my bathroom. Why doesn’t he see that?”
Shah just snuffled in reply.
GERALD washed the dishes, his self-appointed chore since Brett did all the cooking, and kept his eye on the other man. Brett had been oddly distracted through dinner, enough so that Gerald wondered if Brett had gotten some bad news while he was at the store. He frowned a little. He didn’t like Brett being unhappy or worried, not one bit. Decided, he finished the dishes, rinsed and dried his hands, and walked over to the kitchen table where Brett supposedly worked on a leather-goods order.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Huh?” Brett asked, looking up in confusion. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” He didn’t know how to talk about what bothered him. “Just trying to do the math in my head because I’m too lazy to get a calculator out of the office.”
Gerald glanced down at the order form that didn’t have a mark on it. “Want some help?” he offered, studying Brett’s face.
Brett grimaced and tossed the catalog and order form aside. “Not really,” he groused. “I’m too tired to even know what I need.”
Chest aching a little to see Brett so down, Gerald crouched next to him. “Something wrong? Did you get some bad news while I was gone?” he asked in concern.
Brett shook his head. “It’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” he lied, although he hoped a night in Gerald’s arms would at least give him a better sense of perspective on the whole issue. He almost wished Gerald wasn’t staying so he could call Bruce and Jeff, but he wasn’t about to ask his lover to leave after hinting at him to stay earlier.
Gerald glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even eight. “Think you’re coming down with something?” he asked worriedly. He put his palm across Brett’s forehead, and then the backs of his fingers against Brett’s cheek.
It was so totally the gesture of a lover that Brett grew even more confused. He wanted to rant and rail and demand an explanation, but that surely wouldn’t help anything. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Gerry,” he said. “I don’t know what my problem is tonight. I’m not very good company, I’m afraid.”
“It’s okay. I’m just worried a little is all,” Gerald said as he lowered himself to one knee, set his hands on Brett’s knee, and propped his chin there to look up at the other man.
Summoning a smile, Brett tried to push aside his confusion and concern. “There’s probably something mindless on TV. We could sit on the couch and neck like teenagers until bedtime.”
Gerald nodded. “Okay,” he said, hoping to be reassuring. He wanted Brett out of this funk. It just wasn’t good for him.
Keeping his smile firmly in place, Brett pushed his chair out from the table and walked into the living room, leaving the lamps off but using the remote to switch on the television. He flipped through the channels until he found Ocean’s Eleven. “How’s this?” he asked, flopping down on the couch.
“Fine,” Gerald said. He really didn’t care; he planned to focus his attention on Brett. He sat down on the couch and scooted close.
Brett was pretty sure if he heard that word one more time, he’d run away screaming. But he suppressed the urge a little longer and relaxed against the back of the couch, his mind replaying their conversations, trying to read layers of meaning into them.
Gerald frowned as Brett didn’t relax and shifted to lie against the opposite end of the couch. “C’mere,” he invited, holding out his arms so Brett could lie against him.
Even more confused, Brett moved as Gerald suggested, stretching out against his lover, his back against Gerald’s chest, Gerald’s arms around his waist. As he got settled, Gerald pressed soft kisses to Brett’s forehead and squeezed him slightly, trying to offer comfort of some kind, best he knew how.
Brett stifled another frustrated sigh. How could Gerald be so casual one minute and so attentive the next? Whatever the answer, he wasn’t going to figure it out tonight, and the butterfly kisses were relaxing, lulling him to the point that he could set aside his worries for the moment.
Gerald smoothed his hand back and forth over Brett’s belly, holding him close. He hoped Brett would feel better soon; he also hoped he wasn’t somehow the cause of the problem. But Brett wouldn’t have asked him to stay if he w
as unhappy with him, right? He laid his cheek upon Brett’s head and sighed, feeling a warm wave of possessiveness washing through him.
The comfort of Gerald’s cheek against his head eased some of Brett’s worry. They weren’t going straight from dinner to bed, but Gerald didn’t seem concerned, didn’t seem anxious to either get to the action or get out of there, so he had to feel something for Brett besides just lust. Telling himself he was being ridiculous, Brett turned on his side a little so he could wrap one arm around Gerald’s waist while he watched the movie. The fingers of his other hand sought his lover’s, entwining with them gently.
Relaxing as Brett did, Gerald held him quietly as time passed, eventually turning his chin to press a kiss to the mussed reddish-blond hair.
“I’m all sweaty,” Brett warned, though he didn’t pull away. It would hardly be the first time he and Gerald had made love straight from the stables without the benefit of a shower first.
Gerald chuckled. “So?”
“So I just thought I’d warn you, that’s all,” Brett replied, feeling things slide back into place. He might not know everything on Gerald’s mind, but the slowly filling erection against his hip reassured him. Gerald definitely still wanted him.
“I love it when you’re sweaty,” Gerald murmured as he slid his lips to Brett’s ear.
“I don’t know why,” Brett snorted, tilting his head to give Gerald better access to his neck. “I stink to high heaven, but if that’s what floats your boat, far be it from me to protest.”
“You may stink after mucking stalls, but any other time….” Gerald hummed lowly. “You smell warm and spicy. Hard for me to resist.”
Brett raised an eyebrow. “Did somebody ask you to?”
Gerald smiled and shook his head. “Wouldn’t try, anyway.” He held Brett close, deciding this was about as good as it got.
“Good.” Brett snuggled closer to Gerald, his arms tightening their grip as the film played on in the background. It wasn’t some huge declaration, but he thought maybe he didn’t need one after all.