by Xavier Mayne
“They say travel broadens the mind,” Donnelly said as the bed sagged slightly under his weight. “Let’s see if it works on other things.”
Brandt felt the heat radiate from Donnelly’s body as it drew near. Then the invader was at the gate—the massive bluntness of his cock pressed against Brandt’s recklessly slicked-up hole. It was unbelievably hot and impossibly big. There was no way it was going to fit.
“Fuck!” Brandt’s guttural cry startled Donnelly, who would have reacted by pulling back had not Brandt at that moment thrust himself backward.
If men climb Everest because it’s there, Brandt was going to fuck that enormous cock for an even better reason—not just because it was there, but because it was attached to the man he loved most in the world. He crashed backward, feeling himself split open, the momentary hot flash of pain overwhelmed by the certainty of having Donnelly so far, so unbearably far, inside him.
When their bodies collided, he was complete, and the pain and anxiety of their weeklong separation left him, never to return.
“Unf,” Donnelly groaned, pushing back now against Brandt. What choice did he have? Brandt’s unhinged thrust would have thrown him from the bed entirely.
Brandt panted, motionless, trying to put out the fire Donnelly had ignited inside him. His body cried out against the abuse he had just perpetrated upon it, but there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to experience it again. And again. He lurched forward a little, and the dragging friction of Donnelly’s concomitant withdrawal was like sandpaper. He sucked in a sharp breath of shock at the rough sensation and froze again.
“You okay?” Donnelly murmured, his voice once again soft and full of warmth. It was the Donnelly he knew and loved, the gentle, caring man.
This was not the Donnelly he was looking for.
“Come at me,” he grunted—a jeer, a challenge—in his voice. He wanted the riled-up Donnelly, the one who would take what he wanted. Brandt wanted to be taken. He craned around and looked behind him to see Donnelly’s face drop and harden; his solicitous eyebrows furrow into gritty determination. A shiver shot through Brandt, emanating from the place where they were still joined. He wasn’t sure he could bear the strong thrust he hoped Donnelly would make. He knew he couldn’t bear it not coming at all.
Donnelly knew exactly what Brandt needed—needed, not wanted—and he was more than ready to fill that need. He surged forward, and in one pistoning motion, he brought his flat, smooth lower belly back into contact with Brandt’s strong, gaping buttocks.
Brandt grunted into a pillow, smothering his outburst lest Donnelly stop what he was doing. Brandt certainly didn’t want that. What he did want to do was breathe, and that was increasingly difficult since every available space in his body was now completely full of Donnelly’s cock. Brandt was swept away, and never wanted rescue.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Donnelly said with a groan. The sweet heat of Brandt’s deep-inside consumed him. He wished his cock were as long as Brandt’s so he could push even deeper into the inferno—that there was even one more inch he might possess sent a twinge of loss up his spine. He jabbed his pelvis forward despite being already pressed up against Brandt’s ass. The muscle gave, a little, just enough for him to claim a few more millimeters of territory that would now and forever be his. He twitched hungrily, aching to reach more deeply, but he could go no farther. He unclenched and slid back.
Brandt inhaled, feeling like a snorkeler who has gone too deep and barely reaches the surface before his lungs burst. Donnelly’s retreat let him relax enough to take a breath—the rush of oxygen brought heightened sensation, and he keenly felt every inch that Donnelly had stormed through. It was twitchy-achy-amazing, and Brandt wanted more. He nudged back, letting Donnelly know he was ready.
He wasn’t in any sense of the word ready, but he needed more. Now.
Donnelly watched, rapt, as Brandt pushed back. The strained ring of muscle folded in on itself and then slurped up one, two, four inches of Donnelly’s achingly hard cock. Donnelly pulled back a little to halt Brandt’s progress—he was in charge now, not Brandt—and then jolted forward to the hilt once more.
“Yes,” Brandt hissed. He wanted to spur Donnelly on but could form no more complex sound than this through his tightly gritted teeth.
Donnelly, satisfied that Brandt was with him, embarked on a slow but inexorable transit, pulling back until he felt the flange of his cockhead nearly emerge through the iron grip of Brandt’s inner sphincter. He reversed course without stopping, as if he were easing a heavy set of weights almost back onto the stack before pushing into the next rep. He knew orgasms, like endorphins, lay at the end of constant motion, of unstinting exertion. He would get there sooner than he would normally like, but no force on Earth could make him halt his progress toward completion.
He picked up the pace, sliding smoothly now in and out of Brandt, closing his eyes to try to feel every bit of sensation. He heard Brandt’s ragged breath, felt hot friction along every millimeter of his length as he drove it in and out.
Just as Brandt would adjust to Donnelly’s pace, it would quicken, then quicken even more, until he finally had to stop even thinking about how it felt, how he could accommodate that insistent invader—had to stop thinking altogether. He relaxed every clenched thing in his body and just let Donnelly come at him. He kind of hoped he would come in him—soon.
An inspiration struck: he contracted his hips, clenched his abs. His back rounded up like a bear getting ready to charge. The next thrust brought Donnelly crashing against his prostate, and a shock of pleasure arced through his groin and ricocheted along the length of his cock. He wasn’t sure he could take many more impacts like that one.
Donnelly, meanwhile, felt the reconfiguration of their bodies as a threshold he tripped over and found himself falling toward heaven. The passage he’d been drilling with his cock suddenly shifted, and the landscape was new; he was gripped in ways he hadn’t experienced before, and every bit of it added up to one thing: the end. Before he was even aware that he was coming, the first stream blasted out, covering his cock with a new, hot slickness. Then there was more—much more. He opened his eyes, which he had screwed shut when the orgasm sideswiped him, and saw the root of his cock flecked with his own cum, drilled out of Brandt by his rapid, eccentric thrusting.
Without warning, Donnelly pitched forward, exhausted from laboring under so much pleasure. His cock gave one last, exhausted jab at Brandt’s prostate, and, as Donnelly’s weight was added to his own, Brandt’s cock was pressed against the bed. It twitched twice and erupted. Brandt spasmed, his pulsing grip on the unsubsiding cock in his ass sending waves of overstimulation through Donnelly’s body. They shuddered and grunted together, hands clasped tight, bodies locked together in shattered elation.
Eventually, finally, their breathing slowed, their muscles ceased twitching. Donnelly, with great effort, lifted his head and then lowered it again to kiss his way along Brandt’s neck, up to where he could nuzzle his ear.
“That almost made it worth it,” he whispered between nibbles. “Nearly two weeks apart, followed by an orgasm that reduces me to a twitching wreck. I might be persuaded to take that bargain again sometime.”
Brandt turned his head so he could press his cheek against Donnelly’s. “I’m happy to tell you that the waiting period is permanently waived. You can do this every night of our lives if you want.”
Donnelly sighed as his cock slid out of Brandt. It came to rest atop Brandt’s balls, which were now very wet.
“We’ll just need to come up with some kind of code phrase,” Brandt said as he neatly flipped himself over while remaining nestled under Donnelly. “Like ‘how about a nice cup of tea,’ which sounds very innocent, but only you and I will know it really means ‘get on all fours because I’m going to fuck you until your teeth rattle.’” He kissed Donnelly on the nose, quite pleased with his solution.
“I never want to be doing anything other than fucking
you,” Donnelly said, kissing all over Brandt’s face. “Unless it’s getting fucked by you. Or snuggling on the couch watching movies with you. Or doing pretty much anything in the world, as long as it’s with you.”
“Works for me,” Brandt replied, beaming. “You’ve ruined me for other men.” He glanced downward, at the soppy mess they’d made of the bed. “I mean that literally. My ass is literally ruined. I don’t think I’d even feel any other man after you.”
Donnelly smirked. “I’m happy to report that you are still as tight as a drum, sir. There were a couple of times you clamped down so hard on the poor fella, I thought he’d come out shaped like an hourglass.” He kissed Brandt tenderly on the lips. “But just so we’re clear, you won’t be trying anything like that with any other man.”
Brandt shrank back a little from Donnelly’s suddenly fierce glare, then laughed. “You’re lucky I’m straight.”
Donnelly smiled. “Indeed I am.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday
Plotting rescue
KERRY STUMBLED into the parlor of their suite, hair crazily askew in the early morning light. “Gentlemen,” she mumbled, and then her nose pointed toward what she sought: a silver tray with a brilliantly polished pot. “Please tell me that’s coffee.”
“It is indeed,” Donnelly replied, jumping up to pour a cup for her. “You look like you could use some.”
“And you look like you just ran a marathon,” she cracked, taking in his rosy and glistening presence. “You two are going to stop exhausting each other with sexy times at some point, aren’t you?”
“It wasn’t sexy times,” Brandt groused from where he stood near the window. “We hit the gym before the sun was up.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hit it pretty hard, looks like. Is there anything left of it?”
“Let’s just say that Gabriel was a bit aggressive this morning.”
“I’ll just bet he was,” Kerry replied, a catty tone in her rough morning voice. She turned and took another view of Donnelly. “Lucky you.”
Donnelly smiled. “Don’t I know it.” He handed her a steaming cup. “Have some coffee. We have a big day ahead of us.”
She gratefully took the cup and saucer from him, then sank down onto the antique sofa and slurped luxuriantly. She couldn’t keep a freshly caffeinated smile from spreading across her face. “You are a gentleman, Gabriel. Though I suspect you aren’t always. Am I right, Ethan?” She smiled brightly, though with a hint of teasing in her voice.
“Let’s add Gabriel’s sexual prowess to the list of things we won’t be talking about, ever,” Brandt replied and went back to looking out the window.
Kerry laughed. “Well, now that list has precisely one thing on it. It’s not really a list at all, is it? No sense even keeping it around.” She set her coffee down on the table and pantomimed crumpling up a piece of paper and tossing it over her shoulder. “There. Clean slate.”
Brandt rubbed his eyes. “In answer to your inevitable question, Gabriel—yes, she’s always like this. Always.”
“I think she’s delightful,” Donnelly replied, then turned to Kerry. “You keep right on giving him a hard time.” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “And I’ll do the same.” He gave a silent-movie wink, which reduced both of them to laughter.
“Great. Now there are two of you,” Brandt grumbled, then shoved off from his windowsill perch and strode over to pour more coffee. He threw it back in one go, then straightened up and was all business. “We need to get a plan together—tomorrow has to run like clockwork. Everyone get dressed and ready, and we’ll meet here in an hour?”
“It takes an hour for you to get dressed and ready?” Kerry teased.
“It does when Gabriel’s in the shower with me,” Brandt replied archly. “He’s very thorough.” He laughed and set down his empty coffee cup. “Are you coming, love?” His voice was suddenly warm and deep.
“I will be shortly,” Donnelly replied as he followed Brandt out of the room eagerly.
An hour later the foursome was gathered in the parlor, the remains of breakfast scattered across the long coffee table around which they sat.
“So what you’re proposing is a three-pronged attack?” Brandt asked once Sandler, Kerry, and Donnelly had all chimed in on their brainstorming.
“I think it gives us the best chance,” Donnelly replied. “We cover the doctor, the clinic, and the Hendrickses themselves. We only need one of those to be successful.”
“But it spreads us pretty thin, doesn’t it?” Brandt asked. “If something goes wrong for one of us, the others won’t be there to help.”
“Kerry and Sandler will be working together,” Donnelly said, “and I think you’d agree they’re pretty resourceful.” Kerry nodded her thanks at the compliment, while Sandler continued staring anxiously into the middle distance. “And you and I will be working alone, but it’s not like we’ve never done that, right?” Brandt conceded the point with a curt nod. “So I think this is probably the best use of the tools we have available, given the time pressure we’re under.”
Brandt sighed testily. “This is a shotgun plan, blasting everything we’ve got at once, hoping something hits. I’d much prefer a sniper attack—a surgical strike.” He stood and paced the length of the room a couple of times. “But we don’t have the luxury of time to pull something like that together.” He sat again, and looked from face to face around the table. “All right, let’s do this.”
A cheer went up, but as Kerry looked from face to face she saw all present seemed to be fully aware that what they were about to do would be difficult indeed.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday
Dr. Rauthmann’s office, Geneva
“I’M SO glad you could see us on such short notice, Doctor,” Kerry said. She was particularly proud of the way she managed to imbue her voice with a tone of moneyed groveling. “We are only in Geneva for the day.”
“It was fortunate indeed,” Dr. Rauthmann replied, smiling broadly. “Tomorrow I shall begin a course of treatment for another unfortunate young man, and I expect he will require all of my attention for the next several days—a terrible case, a tragic case.” The doctor arranged his fleshy face into a posture of suitably clinical empathy, and then the smile returned. “Please, tell me what brings you to see me today.”
“Well, I’ve—I mean, we, we both, have heard such wonderful things about your treatments.” She shot Sandler a sharp glance. “Haven’t we, dear?”
“Uh, yes,” Sandler replied tepidly.
“May I ask from whom?” Rauthmann asked, the smile fading instantly from his face. He was clearly suspicious.
“Well, I don’t know if it’s proper to speak about the medical treatment of others, but through an online support group I got in touch with a former patient of yours. He told me all about how you helped him overcome his”—she shot another look at Sandler, judgment in her eyes—“difficulties. He didn’t know where you had moved your practice to after leaving Akron, but I tracked you down!” She beamed at her good fortune in finding him.
Rauthmann’s expression didn’t change a bit. “And what might be the name of this ‘patient’ of mine?”
“Oh, well,” Kerry said, hand pressed delicately to her throat. “I only knew him by his username in the online forum where we talked, but he said you would recognize him from that. Ricky G. says hello.”
Rauthmann’s face brightened considerably at this.
Kerry breathed a sigh of relief that the name, given to her by her friend in the legal department, seemed to work like a charm. It had been discovered in court documents relating to one of the malpractice suits, and belonged to a patient of Rauthmann’s who offered his support of the doctor’s methods in written testimony.
“Ah, yes. His was a particularly gratifying result. I trust he is well?”
“Oh, he is, he is,” Kerry assured him. She hoped that poor Ricky G. hadn’t resorted to suicide, as so many seeme
d to after the full effect of a “successful” treatment was felt. “Now, Doctor, can we discuss what you can do for my darling?” She cast a sickly smile in Sandler’s direction.
“We shall see, we shall see,” Rauthmann said. “Would you leave us alone for a few minutes, Mrs. Newman? I’d like to speak frankly with Mr. Newman, and I find it’s best to have such conversations in private.”
“Yes, of course,” Kerry gushed, getting to her feet. “I’ll be right outside, love.” She kissed him lightly on the forehead, then took her leave.
Out in the hall, she closed her eyes for a moment and hoped Sandler would be able to finish what she had started. It was a long shot to hope Dr. Rauthmann would admit to a clinical recklessness that they could use to lodge a complaint that would allow them to get his license revoked immediately, but they had to try. She hoped Sandler would be able to deliver.
AS THE door closed, Rauthmann turned his attention to Sandler. “Now tell me, young man, why are you here?”
Sandler cleared his throat. He didn’t have to fake being nervous—he was truly terrified. But he closed his eyes for a moment and thought of Trevor, and that seemed to focus him. “Well, as my wife said—”
“No.” Rauthmann’s voice was suddenly imperious. “Why are you here? There is nothing I can do to help you if you cannot tell me why you have come to me for help.”
“I….” Sandler swallowed. “I have these… thoughts.” He fell into a miserable silence.
“Go on.”
“Thoughts about… men.”
“I see. What are these thoughts you have about men?”
Sandler paused, hoping he was doing this right. “They’re… intimate thoughts.”
“Sexual thoughts?” Rauthmann probed.