by TomNJus
"Oh, fucking Hell..." he groaned, and I felt his sweaty face against my shoulder, his hair brushing my neck. Suddenly he was pounding into me, beating away at my ass. I could hear myself screaming, could feel my balls boiling.
My cock shot out its load as if releasing a firework into the sky. For a moment, my senses vanished. I couldn't see or hear or feel anything but a rapturous high. My body spasmed as I shot again and again. Finally, sensations returned, and I felt Joel go still. He jerked, sweat flying off him, and I felt his hot white jizz spurting into my tender chute.
Done, he collapsed on top of me. His weight was both wonderful and uncomfortable. I wanted him there, but I was out of breath and he was smothering me.
"J-Joel," I managed, "I can-can't quite—" I pushed weakly at his shoulder.
He groaned and slid back, his softening cock leaving me. I actually whimpered. That glorious fullness was gone, and all that remained were the slick, sticky-cool remnants of lube, come, and sweat. Joel crumpled onto the other half of the couch.
Wincing, I unbent my legs. For a while, the two of us lay there, cooling down, our breathing quiet. My mind was still spinning, and catching my thoughts was rather like trying to snatch brass rings on a merry-go-round.
I did it, was my first thought. I'd done it and the world hadn't ended. Quite the opposite. A whole new universe of experience had opened up for me. Yet even as I realized this, I felt my face flushing and I curled in on myself, like some shy, deflowered schoolgirl. To my great chagrin, I found myself wondering if Joel had liked me and if he would still respect me in the morning.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I felt Joel's hand on my arm, running down it to lace his fingers with mine. I cleared my throat, feeling I ought to say something. "Well, big guy, you're officially my first."
He laughed breathlessly. "And once again, you're my first. I've never taken anyone's cherry before. Was it all right?"
"Amazing."
"Better than you expected?"
"Better? Fuck, Joel, I didn't know what to expect. All I had to go on was my high school experience with Nancy Smith, who was my only virgin. She had a pretty painful and uncomfortable time, and I suppose I expected it'd be the same for me. I never in my wildest dreams thought it could end up feeling that fantastic, not on a first go."
A kind of awe came to his eyes. I guess he'd never had any guy literally put his ass on the line for him. Which was really giving me way too much credit.
"I saw how hard you worked to make it good for me," I added. "I'm guessing that made it less than stellar for you. Next time, I'll do better."
He reached out and put a hand on my head, shaking it a little. "Are you fucking kidding? You were incredible."
Yeah, I thought with a smile. That's the same lie I'd told Nancy Smith.
I managed to get myself to the bathroom to clean up. Then I returned and collapsed back on the couch. Joel fetched us bottles of water and made us sandwiches. We ate and watched some television, leaning up against each other in companionable silence. I was so wiped out that I couldn't remember going to bed. I think Joel hauled me there. I just know that I woke the next morning with his arms around me. The sun was pouring in through the slats. I groaned, feeling sore and little tender. It took me a moment to remember why.
"Morning," Joel purred in my ear. I felt his stiff cock at my ass and my pulse started racing. I didn't know if I was excited or worried.
"Joel, man," I croaked, "I hope you're not planning a repeat of yesterday. Not saying I wouldn't enjoy it, but you fucked me pretty dry."
He laughed and nibbled up my neck to my lobe, tickling it with his hot breath. My own morning hard-on throbbed with interest to spite my statement. It was at Joel's command, it reminded me, and I had not a thing to say about it.
"We both need a little time off to refuel, Muffinman," he agreed.
"I wish I could spend the day with you," I said, rolling on my back so I could gaze at him. It was the nature of the real estate business. Most people had weekends off, so that's when agents showed houses. I worked with a grandmotherly lady named Paula; she took Saturdays and I took Sundays. Sometimes, like that first weekend, I got an extra day off, but most of the time I did not.
"I'd almost like to go back to your dad's pub," I said. Joel's brows shot up and I laughed. "The beer was amazing. I don't know how you could end up drinking anything else."
He snorted. "You weren't raised surrounded by it, serving it and cooking big batches of Irish stew with it. I didn't exactly get sick of beer, but when I got to that age when a guy picks out his drink...well, beer was no longer on the list. I'm glad you like it though. Pop imports what he can from Ireland and puts it on tap."
"I can tell. I liked the food, too. The poached salmon and the leek and bacon quiche...mmm...I could go back there for a slice of that."
"Well, now," Joel smiled thoughtfully, "I might be able to accommodate you there. I think I've most of the ingredients. Irish bacon, mushrooms, eggs and such. Substitute green onions for leeks. You'll have to forget about getting any crust, that's too much trouble, but I could bake it up without."
"Would you?" My mouth started to water at the thought.
He kissed me. "I can't refuse you anything." He slipped out of bed.
I relaxed back on the pillows, beginning to enjoy the morning. "Does that mean you'll fetch me a beer as well?"
He smacked me on the head. "Ungrateful boy."
Joel quickly washed up, pulled on some shorts and headed into the kitchen. He put on some B.B. King and I lay there listening to "Don't You Want a Man Like Me." I heard Joel's fine voice playfully singing along, a knife tapping on the cutting board. Three weeks. I'd known him three weeks, and I'd changed more for him in that time than I had for anyone in my life.
I was startled by a loud, rattling buzz. For a moment, I thought Joel's alarm had gone off, but it didn't sound right for that. Buzz again. And again. It was Joel's phone. He'd left it on his night table and it was vibrating so hard it was about to fall off. I lurched across the mattress and caught it.
"Don't you want a maaaaaaan like meeeeee?" Joel yodeled in the kitchen.
The cell buzzed in my hand, the window lighting up. Eric. It was Eric again. I flipped it open. Another text message.
See u Friday? was the first sentence. There was more, likely a reminder of time and meeting place. I didn't bother reading it.
"Fuck you, Eric," I said, erasing the message. "He's mine."
It was completely wrong and I shouldn't have done it, but I was not going to take any chances. I would not lose Joel.
*Joel*
Dev joined me at the table wearing only his boxer briefs. We shared the quiche and read the newspaper together. He took the real estate section and I took the funnies, reading them to him. When I'd gone through those, I read him the front page, while he kept checking to see if anything was new in the home listings, his bailiwick. He went back to his apartment to get ready for the day then we reconnected and walked down to Espresso Yourself. Taking his coffee, he gave me a kiss, and left me at a table doing the crossword.
We'd been having a great run for the past three weeks with evenings and weekends mostly free, but on Monday morning, His Honor, Judge Douche Bag III, saw to it that this next week would be a complete bust for every romantic life in my office. Howard called everyone into the meeting room to tell us what was what. At lunchtime, I called Devlin and broke the news, hoping he wouldn't be secretly relieved.
"Hey," I said to his professional announcement of his name, "bad news, babe. All the paperwork on the new case is due Friday morning. I have to work late today and I'll most likely be lucubrating all week. Ev—"
"Lucubrating? Lucubrating who and what'd he do to deserve it?"
"Hahaha," I deadpanned a laugh. "Lucubrating means a lot of written work and prolonged study, in particular at night by candle light.
"I knew that."
"Of course you did. Anyway, for the rest of the we
ek we're going to be burning the midnight oil. 'We spend our mid-day sweat, or mid-night oil; we tire the night in thought; the day in toile,'" I quoted for him then gave him my best upper middle class British accent. "Francis Quarles, an English dame known for her dignified whining through prose."
"I love it when you pretend to be educated. So, okay, I'll put out a late-night snack and keep the bed warm for you."
I winced. "I wouldn't count on me making it home to bed. I'll probably be sleeping on the office couch."
He uttered a few, choice and very disappointed curse words, which pleased me. "You've got my key," he sighed. "If you can make it back, come on in. I don't care how late it is."
I couldn't make it home that night, and when I managed to catch a nap, I slept alone for the first time in weeks. I talked with him briefly the next day, finally getting a few minutes online for a video conference.
"The sofa in my office is lumpy," I complained right out of the gate. I was a rumpled mess in just my shirt, having discarded my tie long before. He, by contrast, was his usual freshly pressed looking self. Rubbing my gritty eyes, I said, "The clerks are working their asses off, God-bless-'em, but they can't make a cup of coffee worth shit."
He mentioned that he'd be dropping in on his ex, Cathy, Thursday afternoon to get the gallery information he'd promised my sister. I wondered with bitter ingratitude why she couldn't just e-mail it to him. Because, of course, they're still friends, I reminded myself.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to concentrate on something other than him and Cathy talking and possibly being alone together. Finally, I stole a few minutes between stacks of depositions to dig the scrap of pink paper Deb had given me out of my wallet. It was dinnertime, but she'd said anytime I needed, so I dialed the number, anxiously hoping she'd be able to reassure me.
"No," she said, sounding certain of her answer. "That's definitely not something you have to worry about. First, Dev and Cathy have run into each other now and then over the last few months. If they were going to get back together, they'd have done it before now."
Maybe, I thought, but what if she gets him thinking about being with a woman again?
"Second," Deb was going on, "Cathy's got a new guy who adores her, and she isn't the type to just throw him over in pursuit of an old flame. Believe me, Devlin had to fuck up a lot before Cathy gave up on him, and this guy will need to do the same."
"I thought you said Cathy really wounded Dev—"
"She did, but that doesn't mean he didn't earn it, which is the third thing. Dev may not be so good at insight or foresight, but his hindsight is excellent. He wouldn't try to get back together with someone he'd wronged, and he knows he didn't do right by Cathy."
"I don't know how that could be. Devlin's such an incredible person—"
"He is incredible, but that self-confidence of his lets him act without thinking, which is good if he's at the gym and runs into some hot, shy hunk that's caught his eye—"
I blushed.
"—he'll go right up and ask him out. But that kind of nerve isn't always so good in a relationship. I remember this one time that a gallery called up, they had an unexpected opening in their schedule and wanted to offer it to Cathy. Dev was the one who answered the phone, and he refused it for her because they had plans to go skiing that weekend. He didn't even think about it, didn't even consider asking her. Cathy was furious and Dev, in hindsight, was mortified. He didn't mean to fuck up, but like I said, he's not so good with insight or foresight."
She paused, seeming to brood on that then switched gears. "Anyway, the point is, even if he wasn't nauseatingly happy with you, he wouldn't be tempted to get back with Cathy. You're more in danger of him falling for a stranger."
"Wait a minute, wait—" I said, trying to figure out that hesitancy in her voice. "Back up. Do you think Dev's going to do something thoughtless to me, like he did to Cathy?"
Another pause, then, "I'm worried that he's already done it."
My words nearly stuck behind the lump that suddenly formed in my throat. "And what? You don't think I'm going to handle it well?"
"Joel, I'm just letting you know what's coming. Sooner or later, Dev's going to step up to you, looking like a naughty puppy, and admit that he crossed the line, whatever that line is. You'll handle it however it deserves to be handled, smack him with a newspaper or kick him out of the house. The question isn't whether you can handle it, but whether you can accept it. He doesn't want to mess up, he's trying his best, but we all have our blind spots. This is his. Cathy...Cathy finally got tired of it."
"I have to go now," I said reluctantly. One of the clerks was at my door, another stack of depositions in her arms. "Thanks for talking to me."
I ate Thai take-out that night, being careful not to spill any on the paperwork. Finally, at one-thirty in the morning, I headed home for some proper sleep. I opened Devlin's door and showered in his bathroom as quietly as I could. Sighing heavily, I settled into bed next to him. Wrapping my arms around his familiar form, I burrowed my nose into the hair along the back of his neck and inhaled his fragrance. He stirred a bit, but was too deeply asleep to awaken. His warmth radiating into me had a powerfully soporific effect, pushing me into sleep's current, where the undertow caught me and pulled me down.
The alarm I'd set in my phone woke me at an unreasonable hour, but there was nothing to be done for it. I had to get up and get back to the office. I carefully disentangled my limbs from his, kissing his shoulder and whispering things I'd never have said had he been awake.
*Devlin*
My alarm went off at its usual hour on Wednesday morning. Rolling over, I found that Joel was already gone. I remembered hearing him showering at some God-awful hour the night before, and the comforting feel of his body enfolding mine. I'd experienced a sexual tingle and a lurid dream.
Now, gazing at the empty side of the bed, I half-wondered if I'd only imagined him being there. I touched longingly on the imprint of his head on the pillow then sighed and got ready for work.
Later that afternoon, I managed to catch him for a quick video chat. He looked so forlorn and haggard that I envisioned storming the law offices and forcibly rescuing him from captivity.
"Can I bring you lunch or something?" I asked.
"Naw," he sighed. "We're eating as we work here. I just wish I could have my coffee. I had to be out the door at six this morning and Espresso doesn't open till seven."
"So you'd rather have your coffee than me," I joked, "Is that what you're saying?"
That got a grin from him. "We're talking about coffee here. I'm incredibly fond of you, but I'd sell you into white slavery at The House of the Rising Sun for a cup of coffee made the way I like it."
"It's good to know your priorities. And your kinky fantasies."
"We'll see about kinky fantasies come Saturday, luscious one," he rejoined.
That sent a shiver down my spine. It also made me determined to do something for him. So when lunchtime rolled around, I took the car and drove over to Espresso Yourself. I ordered up two of Joel's favorite drinks, one with hazelnut syrup, one with almond roche, and got four of the cream cheese muffins, two blueberry, two pecan.
There, I thought, pleased with myself, that oughta maintain his energy—and keep him thinking of me. I drove over to his offices, not expecting to actually see him, just to drop off my loving care package. I'd never actually visited his workplace, and I was a little nervous. I didn't want to disturb him or get him into any trouble. I was also worried I'd get lost, but I found the firm easily enough.
"Got a special delivery here for Mr. O'Shaughnessy," I said to the woman at the reception desk. "Survival rations."
A poised brunette with a decidedly feminine edge looked up from her monitor: pink dress, an understated strand of pearls, very much my type had I been on the prowl. Even if I were interested, however, she had a weighty pair of platinum bands on her left ring finger. Square cut diamonds left no doubt that she was taken.
&n
bsp; She blinked up at me, and a smile came over her face. "Let me guess. You're Devlin?"
I turned on my own charm. "Recognized my voice, huh?"
"My, oh, my." There was a twinkle in her admiring eyes. "Now I know what he sees in you."
I laughed and put down my cardboard 'gift basket.' "Well, don't disturb him. I just brought this by in hopes of keeping him from going on a killing spree."
"Oh, he's not in the office right now," she said. "He had some urgent, secret appointment he was determined to keep. Said the firm could damn well survive without him for an hour or two." She shook her head. "Like he hasn't been the one too paranoid to leave the office. I thought he was heading for an afternoon tryst with you, but I guess not."