by Xavier Mayne
“It is,” Donnelly said lightly, closing the doors behind them. “I imagine it’s also built to withstand a lot of turbulence.” He pressed down on the mattress, feeling its solid strength.
“You aren’t actually proposing that we…?”
“Of course I am. Why not?” Donnelly asked, starting to unbutton Brandt’s shirt. “You heard the flight attendant—she said a lot of people enjoy spending some quiet time together in here during the flight.”
“I’m sure that’s not what she meant.”
“She said the shower is big enough for two, Ethan. What else could she have meant?”
Brandt smiled. “Okay, maybe that’s what she meant.” He started to unbutton Donnelly’s shirt for him.
“Bet you never figured on being a member of the mile-high club,” Donnelly teased.
“Safe to say you’re absolutely correct about that,” Brandt replied. “Then again, this isn’t exactly a cramped bathroom in the back of the coach section.”
“Right you are. So let’s take advantage of it.”
In a giddy rush, they disposed of the rest of their clothing and pulled back the covers on the bed. They had just laid themselves down when the plane dipped suddenly.
“Whoa!” Donnelly whooped, laughing.
“That’s what you do to me every time,” Brandt replied. He kissed Donnelly, and the plane surged upward again.
“It’s like making out while bungie jumping,” Donnelly cried.
“Fuck making out,” Brandt growled. He grabbed the bottle of lube he kept in his jeans pocket. He lay back on the bed and squirted some gel into his hand, then spread it all over his already hard cock. He tossed the bottle to the side and beckoned to Donnelly with a jerk of his head. “Come here,” he commanded.
Donnelly, delighted at the speedy turn this was taking, threw his leg over Brandt and straddled his hips, eager for the invasion that was about to come.
“No, up here,” Brandt said. In case his meaning wasn’t clear, he stuck out his tongue and wiggled it sinuously.
“Oh fuck yes,” Donnelly breathed and shuffled his way up over Brandt’s strong chest and broad shoulders, until his knees were next to Brandt’s ears.
Brandt wrapped his arms around Donnelly’s hips and pulled him down. Donnelly widened his stance until he was nearly resting on Brandt’s chin. Then, without warning, Brandt surged upward and impaled Donnelly’s ass with his tongue. Donnelly gasped and fell forward and clutched the headboard, resting his forehead against the wall in an attempt to stay upright while Brandt savaged his asshole.
The plane dipped and shuddered, then surged upward again, forcing Donnelly down onto Brandt’s lips; then, just as suddenly, the bed seemed to fall away from underneath them, and he floated up until only the tip of Brandt’s tongue anchored him. The plane rocked and jolted, the vibrations working through Brandt deeply into Donnelly.
A few minutes was all Donnelly could take. “I need you in me,” he groaned.
Wordlessly, Brandt lifted him and slid him back down until their pelvises met. Donnelly raised himself up high enough to place the head of Brandt’s hard, slick cock at his entrance. He was in no mood to take it slow, but he was rather unprepared for the plane to bring Brandt crashing into him. With one mighty bounce of the bed Brandt slammed balls deep, taking his breath away.
“You okay?” Brandt asked, alarmed by the unintended pillaging Donnelly’s ass had gotten.
“Oh hell yes,” Donnelly replied with a long exhale. As the plane dipped and surged, he simply tried to hang on. Brandt’s prick crashed repeatedly into all of his sensitive spots, and he was soon on his way to a bouncing, heaving orgasm when the world slipped sideways, throwing both of them off the bed.
Brandt was still inside him as they hit the floor, and that one last thrust was all he needed. Donnelly’s cock exploded, sending jets of white streaking all over both of them—and the bed, the floor, and the pillow that had been launched into the air with them when the plane shimmied sideways. The contraction of every muscle in Donnelly’s pelvis throttled the cum right out of Brandt’s cock, and it surged into him, filling him with warm, slippery delight.
The plane continued to rock and bob as they clutched tightly to each other, waves of bliss amplified by the jostle of the aircraft. Finally, as they stopped quivering from the exertion of launching all of that semen (into Donnelly, and all over the room, respectively), the plane stabilized. All was suddenly smooth and quiet.
“That was amazing,” Donnelly sighed, letting himself drop onto Brandt’s sweat-glossed chest.
“Did the air move for you too?” Brandt asked.
“We could have hit the ocean and I wouldn’t have pulled off that amazing cock of yours.”
“Let’s be glad it didn’t come to that,” Brandt said. “Though looking around here, there are few places you didn’t already come.”
“You!” Donnelly cried accusingly. “You did this to me!” He laughed, then leaned down to lap a stray splash of his semen off Brandt’s shoulder.
“And I’d do it again,” Brandt said, before lifting his head up to kiss the cum out of Donnelly’s mouth.
They lay, on the floor and wrapped in sheets, exhausted and kissing, for a long moment.
“We should probably get up and mop this place up a bit,” Donnelly said finally.
“But don’t you dare put any clothes back on,” Brandt warned. “I’m not through with you, mister.”
“We’re just getting started,” Donnelly promised.
They put the room back in order, then climbed under the sheets to relax with a bottle of mineral water from the minibar while they plotted their next moves. A knock on the door roused them from their quiet reflection. They exchanged a look, then pulled the covers up to their chests.
“Come in?” Brandt called, a little tentatively.
The door swung slowly open. “Hope I’m not disturbing you,” the first officer said, “but I wanted to apologize for the turbulence.” He poked his head around the door, then caught sight of the bare-chested men. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” Donnelly said. “We’re decent. Mostly.”
“Wow. Um, you two make ‘mostly decent’ quite… attractive,” said Jake, who was apparently unable to tear his eyes from their pectorals.
Donnelly couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “Thanks, I think?”
Brandt eyed them both mischievously. “Let’s not dance around it. Jake, we’ve been having sex in your plane. I hope that’s okay.”
Jake laughed. “No worries. I’ve, umm”—he cleared his throat insinuatingly—“made similar use of the stateroom recently.” He looked around slyly, as if checking for eavesdroppers. “It was during a deadhead flight across the Pacific, and we had two guys who were supposed to be cleaning the plane, but were actually taking the long way around the world to get to England. For a wedding or something. Anyway, I’d never done anything like that before while working, but they were very persuasive. Especially the one with the accent—he was Cuban, I think? Man alive, he was the most flexible thing I’ve ever had wrapped around me.” He sighed and looked into the middle distance. “Anyway, I’d better get back up there. Sorry again for the turbulence—we’re finally around the storm, and it should be smooth sailing from here on. We’re still about three hours out, so if you’d like to… carry on, you certainly have the time.”
“Thank you,” Donnelly said. “Though I think we both kind of enjoyed the shaking and bouncing.”
“Well, now we’ll know whom to blame if it starts shaking and bouncing again,” Jake said with a laugh and a wink, then turned to walk back to the cockpit.
Brandt turned to Donnelly. “Two guys, one with a Cuban accent?”
“Who seduced a pilot after basically stowing away?”
“You don’t think…?”
“No, couldn’t be,” Donnelly said with every bit of finality he could muster.
Even he didn’t really believe it.
Chapt
er Twenty-One
Reception
Home
“DO WE have to go?” Brandt asked. “We just finished unpacking, and there’s a game on.”
“He said we absolutely ‘must, must, must, must’ be there,” Donnelly replied. “You know three ‘musts’ is life or death—I have no idea what could possibly make Bryce throw in a fourth. We have to go.”
Brandt sighed, casting a woeful look at the television where he had hoped to settle in with a six-pack and his fiancé. “All right. I’m assuming there’s a dress code?”
“It’s at Burn, so it needs to be something you can dance in.”
“Does it? Does it really?”
Donnelly pulled him close. “Yes, yes it does. Really.” He kissed Brandt on the nose, then smiled brightly. “You remember what we did after the last time we danced at Burn.”
“Barely.”
“That’s my point exactly. Let’s do that again.”
Brandt couldn’t help but grin. “Okay, you win.” He turned to go get dressed, since the sweatpants and jersey he was wearing weren’t exactly club wear. “Maybe Oliver will be there, and he’ll make that drink again.”
“If it gets you out on the dance floor, I’ll buy as many as it takes.”
THE CLUB announced its presence with sparkling blue lights and a deep thudding dance beat that could be heard down the block.
“Well, this place hasn’t changed,” Brandt said, deadpan.
“Why mess with a good thing?” Donnelly replied. He pulled open the door and a wave of powerful bass crashed into them. “Wow, they are really cranked up tonight.”
“Awesome.” Though his tone was dark, he smiled teasingly.
They made their way into the club, and were immediately met by Xander, the waiter who had hosted their bachelor party. “Gabriel! Ethan! Great to see you,” he called as he approached. “Are you all married now?”
“Not exactly,” Brandt said.
“It’s a long story,” Donnelly added.
“I’d love to hear it sometime,” Xander replied. “But Bryce will kill me if I keep you from his table, so please, follow me.” He led them to the large, U-shaped booth in the back of the club, where Bryce and Nestor held court with a large group of friends.
“Troopers!” Bryce hooted as they approached. “My darling menfolk.” He hopped up and ran to them, embracing both and showering them with kisses.
Brandt, overwhelmed by Bryce’s effusive greeting, had almost extricated himself when he felt Nestor’s sinuous arms slip around them from behind. They were now the meat in a rather fabulous sandwich, and he gave up trying to get free.
“Please, please, join us,” Bryce said, leading them to the table once he had his fill of gripping them tightly. Arrayed around the table were several faces they recognized from shops on Alta Avenue—it was something of a shop-boy convention.
“Officers!” came a voice from across the bar, and Oliver, Burn’s most popular bartender, raced across the floor full of bouncing men. “Great to see you,” he cheered, pulling them both into a hug. “I’m so sorry about everything that happened—James was so frustrated that you weren’t able to get married at his place in England. And I was really looking forward to seeing you two finally tie the knot.”
Donnelly leaned close to be heard over the pounding music. “Like I told James, please don’t feel bad about—”
“Can I have your attention, please?” Bryce blurted—he’d never shared a spotlight in his life, and though he loved Brandt and Donnelly dearly, he was clearly not about to start sharing this one. “Now that our most muscular guests have arrived, you are no doubt frantic to know why I’ve asked you here.” He scanned the crowd for signs of frenzy, which his cohorts dutifully offered—they were accustomed to pretending far more strenuous things in exchange for free drinks.
Bryce paused for effect. And then paused a little longer, as if he were a reality show host dangling over a commercial break.
“My love, we tell them now?” Nestor prompted.
“Yes, yes, I was just about to.” Bryce cleared his throat theatrically. “As you may know, Nestor and I traveled to merry old England last week to be of assistance at the wedding of our beloved troopers here.” He bowed gracefully toward Brandt and Donnelly, who exchanged looks of purest confusion.
“You were there?” Brandt asked, once he’d caught his breath.
“Of course, darling. We said we would be.”
“Everyone said they would be,” Donnelly said, eyes still wide with surprise. “But we didn’t think anyone actually made it.”
“Apparently the rest of your guests are simply less resourceful,” Bryce tutted, consulting his fingernails.
“Apparently,” Brandt said, utterly confused.
“In any event,” Bryce continued, “we were there. And in that groomless cathedral, we sat for a long while, contemplating the vagaries of life and the nature of love, and it occurred to me—why waste all the flowers?”
Brandt and Donnelly, having just gotten their jaws to close, dropped them open again.
“You didn’t,” Donnelly murmured.
“Oh, but we did,” Nestor sang, and he giddily embraced Bryce.
“Yes, my dearest friends, as well as a few bitterest enemies—you know who you are, and I trust you are infuriated by how happy and well-dressed I am today—Nestor and I had our turn as blushing brides, and we stand before you now in wedded bliss.” The two grooms kissed, reenacting the vigorous lip-lock that had so startled the officiant at their wedding.
Brandt and Donnelly erupted into cheers and good wishes, clapping both grooms on the back and giving each a kiss for good luck. The shop-boy chorus, however, was having nothing of it. They sat in stony silence, as if a particularly elegant rug had been yanked out from under them.
“My darlings, whatever is the matter?” Bryce asked, seeing their bereft expressions.
“I think I speak for the group,” one willowy lad ventured—Brandt recognized him as the inseam specialist at the tailor shop up the street—“when I say, what the fuck, Bryce?”
“I’m sorry?” Bryce asked.
“Who’s going to arrange our social events now?” the seamster demanded.
“I’m sure Bryce and Nestor will still make time to socialize with their friends,” Brandt said, hesitant to get into the middle of a catfight but wanting to defend Bryce’s honor.
“We’re not talking about high tea,” answered another of the crowd. “We’re talking about shore leave and wrestling tournaments and Republican conventions. Places where sailors and athletes and closet cases gather to work out their kinks. Bryce, you invented the all-you-can-eat cock buffet, and now you’re abandoning us!”
“I am doing no such thing,” Bryce sniffed. “Do you think that just because we’re married we’ll stop having sex? With other people, I mean?” He burst out laughing, joined by Nestor. “No, no, no, darling. We take marriage far too seriously for that. We will have a traditional marriage in every sense, just as mankind has had for millennia. And as in every good traditional marriage, the male partner shall be free to indulge in whatever—or whomever—he wishes.”
“We’d expect nothing less, Bryce,” Donnelly replied with a laugh.
“Thank you, dear. Now, everyone, drink up and dance the night away. Or, rather, the early evening. Promptly at midnight we will all be heading to a graduation party at a charming little dive near that strict, strict military academy just outside town. There will be several dozen muscular cadets who’ve been locked up for a year with nothing to do but work out and stew in male hormones. They’ll be free, frisky, and utterly incapable of holding their liquor. Hope you brought your appetites, darlings!”
A cheer rose from the shop-boy chorus.
“I think we’ll have to beg off,” Brandt said.
“Oh, sweetie, they’ve been living in barracks for months. Barracks. You wouldn’t have to beg.”
“I think what Ethan’s trying to say,” Donnelly added hel
pfully, “is that we hope you have a lovely time, but we won’t be joining the party.”
“Well, a girl can dream,” Bryce said wistfully.
“THANKS FOR dancing with me tonight,” Donnelly said, raising his red plastic cup to Brandt.
“I didn’t want to be the only one in the club who wasn’t,” Brandt said with a grin.
“Come on. You enjoyed yourself out there.”
“Not as much as Bryce’s friend with the skintight leather pants. I thought I’d have to come out there with a crowbar to get him off you.”
Donnelly looked gleefully over the top of his drink. “Whatever it takes to get you on the dance floor.”
Brandt rolled his eyes, but then wiped his brow—they had danced for quite some time. “Well,” he said, looking around the club, “it’s not exactly a honeymoon at the Villa Hermes—”
“It’s better,” Donnelly said.
Brandt raised his eyebrows.
“We’ve had so many amazing adventures, and we’ve gotten to know so many amazing people along the way,” Donnelly said. “And how many people can spend two weeks traversing the globe on the way to getting married and then still have a wedding to look forward to when they get home?”
Brandt laughed but had to agree. “You’re right, of course. But I think at some point I’d like to actually be married to you.”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
“How about we head to the courthouse on Monday and make it official? Then we can head south and at least enjoy the second week of our honeymoon. Winnie said no one’s booked the honeymoon suite until next month.”
“Sounds like a dream come true.” Donnelly leaned over and kissed his soon-to-be-groom. “Plus, everything that could possibly go wrong already has.”
“Don’t you ever,” Brandt growled into Donnelly’s ear, “ever lose your optimism.”
“Now you’re just teasing me,” Donnelly replied.
“I’m not.” Brandt was dead serious. “I depend on it more than the air I breathe.”
“Ethan, you don’t need optimism. You are a force of nature, and you always do what you set out to do.”