When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

by TomNJus

  “We’ll see. If he loves you, then I’ll love him, I’m sure.”

  “It’s too early to be talking about love. It’s only been a couple weeks.”

  “Too early to be talking about it, maybe, but not too early for me to hear it in your voice.” I sighed, not knowing what to say. My mother could always peg me without any effort. “Alright, love, I’m dropping it. I just hope your young man is strong enough to take the Hell this family’s gonna put him through till he’s proved hisself.”

  “So do I.”

  When I returned to the table, everyone was ready to head out, so we paid the bill and headed back to our building where the four of us spent the rest of the evening talking with music playing softly in the background.

  The next day Devlin surprised me with a picnic and concert in the park to celebrate our two-week anniversary. I couldn’t believe he was so thoughtful, especially since I hadn’t thought to do anything for it. I was used to being the one who came up with such things, and it threw me off stride a little. In a good way.

  At intermission, I went to get us some coffee to go with the tiramisu and encountered Robbie, here with Mark I assumed, who nearly managed to ruin my day.

  “Oh my God, Joel!” he called when he spotted me in the coffee vendor’s line.

  “Oh my God, Robbie,” I replied, mimicking his tone and flamboyant body language.

  He shook his head, tysking at me and making a no-no sign with one finger, “I’d be careful about doing that sort of thing, Sweetie. Haven’t you figured it out by now? Acting like that is what had Superbutch acting so pissy at the barbeque.”

  “Old news, Robbie. We talked about all that.”

  “Is the right?” He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as if I were so stupid he needed to consider if it was worth trying to enlighten me. “I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long with him. I’m sure you know by now that he doesn’t like me much; in fact, he barely stands me. It’s not because I’m not a likeable fellow either, it’s because he can’t abide queens. I’d say he was a homophobe if he didn’t brag about his hookups with men. That’s what men are to him, hookups, and not just any man. No, the way he describes them, they’ve all been the Marlboro Man. Strangely enough, all of his women are Betty-fucking-Crocker.

  “I still can’t believe he even brought you to meet us. He’s never done that before.” I couldn’t help but grin over his indignant tone. “I’d even begun to wonder if he was telling fibs about his male conquests. I sure hope you’re not just another notch on his bedpost. If you want my honest opinion—”

  I didn’t, but knew I’d get it regardless.

  “—I don’t think most of his butt boys are even real people to him. They never have names. It’s always ‘this guy’. ‘This guy’ he saw in the grocery store, he showed a house to ‘this guy’. ‘This guy’ had a great ass, ‘that guy’ had a huge penis, or a sexy, hairy chest, whatever favorite attribute caught his eye.”

  “And that’s how he talks about me? Is that your point?”

  “Amazingly enough, no,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “He’s never once mentioned sex where you’re concerned, which makes me wonder if you’re even doing the deed, despite that little bathroom scene at Brian’s, and I have no idea how big your dick is.” He eyed me up and down as he said that. “All we ever hear about is your dates; absolutely no spice at all.”

  That made me happy. If Dev wasn’t telling tales then he wasn’t lumping me in with the other men he’d been with. Robbie broke into my thoughts, “You should’ve blown him, or even let him fuck you in the monkey house when you went to the zoo. He’s an exhibitionist to a large degree, and doing it with him in places where there’s a danger of being caught at it will definitely keep him interested.”

  I laughed, thinking how close Robbie’d come to hitting the nail on the head. “I’ll remember that. Hell, maybe I’ll fuck him in the monkey house, eh?”

  “Like Hell, you will!” he said emphatically. “That boy is a confirmed top. Mark told me that he asked him about it once and he’d said that the day he let someone bust a nut in his ass, was the day he’d sign up for a sex change since his dick would have already fallen off anyway.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I wasn’t an aggressive top, but I was used to it. Eric always preferred bottoming; sometimes I’d nearly had to beg him to top. I’d been hoping Devlin would want to try receiving once I got him used to the idea, convinced that he’d like it. I wondered if Robbie was actually trying to be helpful and warn me, or if he was deliberately trying to undermine my growing confidence in my relationship with Devlin. I didn’t know if he was habitually sarcastic and catty or not.

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about me and Devlin, because I’m Betty Cocker. I ride a Harley, and I cook, so he doesn’t need anything that I don’t have.” I wished I felt as confidant as I sounded. That’s one of the advantages of being a lawyer. It’s not necessary to believe what you’re saying to sound like you mean every word of it.

  When I got back to Devlin, the music was just getting started again. I gave him the coffee, and settled myself behind him, enfolding him in my arms, needing the contact. Especially needing him to let me do it. I held the desert container while he fed it to the both of us, leaving each of us a hand free to hang onto our drinks. The kisses I placed on the back of his neck, cold from my coffee and sticky from the desert, made him shiver and laugh. When we’d eaten two thirds of the tiramisu, I made him put it away, saying that I wanted to save the rest for a snack later in bed. His breath caught in his throat when I whispered that into his ear, and I knew he knew exactly what I intended.

  Amazing as that Saturday was, I prepared myself for things to finally start tapering off. Surely Dev was getting tired of me by now. To my surprise, however, our relationship got even better in that third week, from lolling on the couch with our laptops catching up on work to playing Scrabble for a blowjob. As a lawyer and a logophile, I was sure I’d win that game hands down. Much to my chagrin, Dev beat me easy (“Quitclaim” was his winning word. Damn real-estate vocabulary), which meant he got to decide who got the blowjob.

  “Off with the clothes, Sexy,” he said, even I demanded a rematch, and then, shoving me on the couch, he sunk to his knees and gave my hard, aching dick the most loving attention it’d ever known. He told me it got him off knowing that I was watching him taking down my cock.

  He also, miracle of miracles, got me out of the house. I become something of a hermit in the last couple of years and wasn’t sure I was ready to venture out into the big, wide world, but Dev’s determination was greater than my own. He took us on an evening run for frozen yogurt, to a midnight showing of a film we’d wanted to see and even insisted we go to the local farmers’ market, which I'd never attended, but very much wanted to.

  Dev didn’t say a word when I ended up dragging home three bags of fresh produce. He just took two off my hands and shook his head when I tried to apologize for going overboard

  “I did this for me, Biker-boy,” he insisted with that boyish grin of his. “It’s my way of getting you to cook us dinner.”

  As if all this wasn’t enough, I was still hopelessly in lust with my golden guy. Spotting for him as he lifted weights at the gym, I’d stare, enthralled, at the way his teeshirt rose up, bearing his sweaty abs. And every morning I’d watch him get dressed, loving that moment when his pressed slacks came up over his tight ass.

  The morning of Pop’s party I woke with my cheek resting on Devlin’s shoulder blade. We always seemed to fall asleep with him holding me, and wake up with me holding him. I wondered if it was because he felt more comforted while he was asleep to be held rather than to hold, or if I was trying to assert I was equally masculine like I kept doing when we made love. I was still subtly trying to encourage the idea of him letting me have him. I was going slowly, asking with actions rather than words. I hoped his body would tell me when he was ready to take that step, until then I just had to be patient.


  I wasn’t feeling very patient this morning though. He had his ass snuggled against my morning wood, his crack cradling it in a warm invitation that was almost more than I could say no to.

  Aching to be inside of him, I stroked my fingers over his nipples, while grazing my teeth over the crook of his neck. His nipples hardened into nubs as goose flesh rose across his shoulders; I felt the shiver that ran down his back. He sighed softly when I lifted his upper leg onto mine so I could run my hand up the inside of his thigh to cup his lightly furred sack. Massaging his balls gently, I nuzzled my lips into the back of his neck, right at his hairline.

  It didn’t matter that he was undulating his hips, slowly working my shaft between his firm cheeks, because I knew that he wasn’t fully awake and didn’t know what he was inviting me to do. Having him right now would be taking advantage of him, and he’d probably never forgive me for it, but I was so tempted to do it anyway. I spotted the bottle of KY on the edge of the bed, on the verge of falling to the floor, and wondered if we could come to a compromise that would satisfy my anxious need to be inside of him without pushing him to do something he wasn’t ready for yet.

  Reaching past him, I grabbed the bottle then leaned away from him, nearly rolling onto my back. He started to roll with me, trying to stay in contact with me, but I kept him on his side, telling him I just needed a second. He was more awake, but still groggy, when I pressed up against his back once more, moving his legs so they were together and asking him to squeeze them together while I lifted my leg on top of his.

  “What? Why?” he asked sleepily.

  “I’m just—I just need to…” I panted into his ear as I hesitantly began to slide my aching, heavily lubricated dick between his legs, right at the juncture of his thighs.

  “What are you doing?” he said, sounding more awake as he looked over his shoulder.

  “Please, I really need this. Just trust me,” I said huskily against his cheek. Pushing harder, I glided forward as I wrapped my lube-coated palm around his shaft. After a couple of thrusts, I adjusted the angle so my dick would push against his perineum to massage his prostate externally. I stroked my thumb over his glans. He exhaled loudly in a hiss, his hips jerked, then angled so the head of my cock would jab his prostate harder before skidding forward.

  I was surprised at how good this felt. It wasn’t exactly what I was craving, but it was better than a hand or blowjob because I wasn’t lying docile while it was done to me. I was free to thrust as it pleased me, so it simulated the freedom and control of topping him well enough that I could nearly forget that I was clamped between his thighs, rather than buried in his ass.

  Gripping his cock harder, I began stroking him firmly from base to tip, rotating my fist around his helmet each time my hand reached the apex. I felt his legs tighten, his inner thigh muscles clenching around my pistoning shaft as he began driving his cock through my fingers. Growling almost loud enough to drown out his grunting breaths, I bit down on his shoulder and thrust harder between his tightly clamped legs. He reached back and clutched my hip as his back bowed, his moan merging with my continued growl.

  “Oh, man…yeah, yeah…fuck…I—Goddamn,” I stuttered into the crook of his neck between grunts. I felt myself rushing toward the precipice faster than I wanted to, but couldn’t make myself slow down. Intense pleasure crawled from the head of my cock, down into my inner thighs and up into my stomach, becoming a core of quivering tension that trembled on the ragged edge of bursting into pure gratification. It broke like surface tension, flooding through me like water through a burst dike. His cock throbbed in my fist, streams of sticky come bursting through my fingers. All I could do for several minutes afterward was gasp and shudder, while clutching him to my chest and hoping he wasn’t pissed at me.

  *Devlin *

  Oh, Jesus! Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!

  I was trembling, and I swear my guts had turned to water. It was all Joel’s doing and I didn’t know what to think. It had started with a dream of Joel fondling and spooning me, heavenly sensations. I remembered trying to keep close to him, murmuring something when he kept me on my side, as he reached over me. Then I’d felt his thick, hard cock poking between my ass cheeks, no dream, and an adrenaline spike woke me up. I almost panicked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Please,” he’d said in my ear, his stubbled cheek rasping against mine, “I really need this. Just trust me.”

  Trust? Trust him? Fuck! My heart was racing now, but as frightening as it was to feel his cock, now slippery with lubrication, gliding between my thighs, it was also exciting. Exciting in a way I didn’t want to admit, exciting to have Joel in complete control, his steely arms enfolding me, his slick hand jacking my rod.

  His cock slid back and forth, rubbing the sensitive spot below my balls. Little electric shocks of pleasure flickered through my groin with each stroke and I found myself placing a palm on the bed so I could thrust my ass back against him. Soon, he had me rocking uncontrollably.

  As if that weren’t enough, his hand was twisting and gliding expertly up and down my shaft, stroking and caressing it until it felt ready to explode with pleasure. I was gasping and groaning, writhing in his hands and at his mercy. There came a moment, lost in exquisite sensations, when I knew I’d surrendered; he could have done anything right then, raped me blind, and I would have begged for more.

  My thighs tightened, squeezing his cock as he continued thrusting and I pressed a hand to his hip. Arching against him was almost like fighting him, fighting and losing as he was still toying with my pulsing cock. He released a loud groan and bit down on my shoulder as he shuddered and began coating my ass and thighs with his warm, milky fluid. At almost the same time, my own cock spasmed, shooting over his hand and the sheets.

  He left me weak and trembling. “Jesus Christ,” I managed to breathe at last. I had never experienced anything so intense. He held me for a long while, his heart beating against my back, and then, at last, he released me. I shifted until the sides of our bodies touched, my abs lying on the wet sheets. I rested an arm over his chest while keeping my face buried in the pillow. I was experiencing an agonizing mix of shame and excitement. I knew I was dangerously close to admitting I wanted his cock inside me. If I looked at his deep green eyes and soft, moist lips right now, I was sure I’d tell him that.

  Finally, I nuzzled my face against his neck, avoiding eye contact, and gathered my cloak of airy confidence about me. “Yum, you sure know how to wake a guy up, Joel.”

  He let out what sounded like a relieved breath and relaxed. “Glad you enjoyed it,” he said earnestly. Had he thought I’d be mad?

  “Of course, now we’ve got this mess on our hands. We’re going to need to change the sheets, but first, a shower.”

  I headed into the bath and my hands shook as I turned the faucets in the shower. I was still a bit shaken and confused by what had happened and how I’d felt about it. I was leaning against the tiles, letting steamy water pour over my head when Joel joined me. His arms encircled me and I turned around a bit more quickly than I’d intended. I guess I wasn’t so comfortable having him behind me at the moment. I smiled to hide my nervousness and brought our lips in contact, allowing our tongues to dance tenderly together.

  “You’re keeping me in a constant state of horniness, do you realize that?”

  “It’s my master plan,” Joel wiggled his brows.

  “Well, dial it down at the party, okay? As a favor to me. I don’t want your family to think I actually like you. I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

  He answered that by scrubbing me with a soapy washcloth until I groaned. After we’d rinsed and dried off, Joel slipped back into his clothes from last night and headed for his own place. Which was sad, as I loved it when he made us breakfast. I scarfed down a couple of bowls of Wheaties and a half-container of cottage cheese. I would have eaten more, hungry as Joel’s morning workout had made me, but he’d said there would be a ton of food at the party. />
  That ton of food was going to include one amazing cake. Joel had ordered it from Buon and I’d been terrified that we were going to have to haul it to the party. We’d gone by the restaurant to see it last night. It was an enormous chocolate hazelnut monstrosity with white chocolate frosting. Joel had eased my near heart attack by assuring me that Lucia and her family would be delivering it. It’d been easier to admire after that: a masterpiece bejeweled with glazed berries and sugared roses. Across the top, delicate green calligraphy spelled out the words: Go n'eiri an t-adh leat! which Joel said meant “good luck.”

  Good luck. I was going to need it. I noticed that in spite of breakfast, my hands were still shaking. What Joel had done to me this morning had left my body vibrating, and shot my concentration all to Hell. Three weeks together and he was still able to make me feel like I’d just been released from hours of torture and teasing.

  It wasn’t fucking fair! I wanted to be able to do that to him.

  I turned my attention back to my clothes. Meeting the parents of girls I’d dated had always been easy for me. The girl was usually Daddy’s little princess and very much like her mom, which meant I was already halfway in the parents’ good graces simply by being tattoo-free and well groomed. From there it was just a matter of smiling and calling them “Sir” and “Ma’am” while exchanging firm handshakes.