You're Welcome- Love, Your Cat

by Clancy Nacht

  Francesca leaped from his lap and padded across the wooden planking to curl around Forrest’s leg. Edwin watched her, almost as jealous of her as of his student. His need to touch Forrest grew until he couldn’t help looking.

  Looking was okay. He just couldn’t touch.

  He stared at Forrest’s face, struck anew by the high, sculpted cheekbones, the sharp jawline, and straight nose. If he’d ever known a better-looking man, he couldn’t remember.

  Knowing that the face went with an earnest, humble soul and a mind that understood the inner workings of complex machines as well as mysterious, kitteny hearts left him feeling weak in the knees.

  He’d always believed Howard was his one love; it was impossible to hope the universe could hold another for him. But the longer his gaze lingered on Forrest, the more he wished it could. Was it so wrong to crave it?

  Perhaps not wrong, just foolish.

  Laughing at himself, Edwin drained his beer and rose to his feet. “I’m going to get another, if you don’t mind. I’m feeling a little strange.”

  “I’m feeling a little strange myself.” The lustful look Forrest gave him was as unmistakable as it was impossible.

  Edwin shook his head to free it of such silly thoughts and headed to the door.

  To his surprise, Forrest was hot on his heels. The larger man reached around him to pull the door open and held it while his body pressed to Edwin’s back.

  When Edwin looked up at him, Forrest said, “I could use one too.”

  The dark look in those bright eyes panicked Edwin. He felt cornered. The weight of inevitability made it hard to breathe.

  Edwin walked inside on shaky legs. Pulling open the refrigerator, he reveled in the cool air. He bent to retrieve their beers, and Forrest leaned over him to reach into the fridge and pull out his own bottle. The pressure of the younger man’s hips against Edwin’s forced out a choked moan. His skin flushed with heat despite the chill from the fridge, and he went very still.

  “Forrest?” Edwin didn’t like the breathy tone of his voice or the fact that he couldn’t summon any of his usual dignity. He swallowed hard, unable to straighten or even look back at his friend. “I didn’t bring you here for… Tell me you know that. That I’m your friend?”

  Immediately Forrest took two steps back, appearing chastened.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m your friend.” He stared at the polished wooden floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it seem like… I just came here for dinner. I know you’re still in mourning or… I mean, yeah. That’s not what I came here for.”

  Forrest set the beer on the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird. I should go. It’s not a long walk back to the shop.”

  Edwin closed the fridge behind him and leaned against it for support as he looked at Forrest, really studying him now. He couldn’t stand the idea of Forrest leaving like that. His pulse raced as he closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around Forrest, holding him close.

  “Please stay.” He turned his face just enough to look at Forrest’s profile from close up. His wet his lips with his tongue as he tried to think of the right words. “Please just stay with me if you want to at all.”

  Then Edwin closed his eyes and tried to breathe, praying he wasn’t making a huge mistake but too far gone to care. Forrest’s thick arms enfolded him, clutching Edwin forcefully enough that it made it even more difficult to breathe. He turned his face toward Edwin’s, looking hurt and scared.

  “I want to, but I don’t wanna rush you. I know you’re healing, but it’s…”

  Forrest’s jaw tightened. He pressed his forehead to Edwin’s, their hurried breaths mingling. Forrest opened his mouth as if he intended to say something else, but instead he tilted his chin and pressed his lips to Edwin’s.

  Edwin melted as if he’d been waiting all his life for that kiss. He opened his mouth on instinct, surrendering wholeheartedly to the sensation of those tender lips on his. It had been so many years since he’d felt anything like it that Edwin had to choke back a sob. He wanted it so desperately there was no room for rational thought.

  If by some miracle Forrest was willing, if Edwin could somehow feel human and wanted for just a while, he couldn’t let that chance slip away.

  “Eleven years,” he whispered into Forrest’s mouth, “is hardly rushing it.”

  Forrest squeezed Edwin’s shoulders, then cupped his face, holding him in place. The kiss started slow, a worrying of lips, the soft warmth of tongue. Forrest’s fingers wound in Edwin’s hair as he backed him against the refrigerator and they moved together.

  Edwin gasped as Forrest crushed him, his cock hardening swiftly as he slid his tongue against Forrest’s. The slick caress of flesh and the solid bulk of Forrest’s muscular body left Edwin light-headed and clinging, chanting in his thoughts please don’t stop, please don’t stop.

  Hips twisted in search of friction. Edwin arched into Forrest, gathered the hem of Forrest’s shirt, and spread his hands on bare skin. Forrest’s increasingly rough kisses knocked Edwin’s glasses askew, so he plucked them from his face and set them atop the refrigerator. His hand hovered at shoulder level as he hesitated, the spell broken.

  Forrest didn’t seem to notice. Whatever anxiety Edwin felt, Forrest bulled ahead, undoing Edwin’s tie and then unbuttoning his shirt. He chased the exposed skin with his lips and tongue, wringing embarrassingly needy sounds from Edwin.

  Helpless to resist, Edwin ground against Forrest, startled to feel an answering erection pressed to his own.

  What was Forrest doing here? A moment of bicuriousness? Just horny? Did he feel sorry for Edwin?

  Ultimately, Edwin didn’t care. It didn’t matter why Forrest was doing it, only that he was.

  Edwin tightened one hand at the small of Forrest’s back and twined his fingers through Forrest’s golden hair as the younger man kissed down his chest. He didn’t know what he’d say when Forrest got his shirt off and realized he was undressing a skinny, middle-aged bookworm instead of a beautiful young woman who made enough stripping to put herself through college. He tipped his head back, trying to stay calm, but he couldn’t help twisting and staring, needing to see that it was real, that Forrest James was really in his kitchen ravishing him.

  He tugged at Forrest’s shirt. “Let me touch you too. Let me see.”

  Forrest stopped kissing Edwin and pulled the shirt over his head, muscles rippling with every motion. “Know what I want to see? A couch. Or your bed.”

  One deft flick of those thick fingers unbuttoned the tight jeans, drawing Edwin’s attention to the sizable bulge straining the denim. Edwin stared, slack-jawed with lust, then ran his hands over Forrest’s pecs and down his sides, tracing the definition of that flat stomach with trembling fingertips. Then he took his friend’s hand and led him through the bungalow’s living area to the other side where his bedroom door stood open, waiting.

  As Edwin led Forrest inside, his heart pounded so hard that it hurt, its thudding as loud in his ears as a drum line. His courage almost faltered when he passed Howard’s photograph on the dresser. With a pang, Edwin released Forrest’s hand and turned the photo facedown before closing the bedroom door behind them.

  Then he turned toward Forrest, leaning against the door because he wasn’t certain he could stand under his own power while facing the divine vision situated between him and the decidedly ascetic full-size bed. Its stark white sheets contrasted with the black, wrought-iron frame, as monkish as Edwin had become. He gestured toward it and raised a brow, hoping Forrest’s momentum would land them both there despite Edwin’s neuroses.

  For a moment, it looked like Forrest had changed his mind. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing, or maybe it was Howard’s picture. That uncertain blue gaze roamed the room, seeking something. Then it locked with Edwin’s again, and he seemed to focus.

  Forrest unzipped his jeans and then pulled Edwin against him. He caressed Edwin’s back, then kneaded his ass. He l
ined up their cocks just so, surprising Edwin with his skill. Then Forrest curled his fingers, forcing the fabric of Edwin’s trousers against his opening, and Edwin lost himself to the luxurious sensations.

  Winding his arms around Forrest’s neck, Edwin kissed him first this time, no longer worried about being rebuffed. He rutted against Forrest with abandon, rocking his hips to push into those strong hands and the friction between his cheeks. He exhaled heavily and backed Forrest to the bed, stealing kiss after kiss. Edwin dropped his hand from Forrest’s neck to slide inside his open fly and rub his erection through his briefs.

  It felt so hot and alive under his fingers, nothing like touching his own. He’d forgotten how magical it felt to touch another cock; the fierce pulse felt almost like holding Forrest’s heart in his hand. The heavy shaft filled his palm, promising size Edwin didn’t know if he could handle.

  Struck with an impulse, Edwin pushed Forrest to sit on the edge of the mattress and knelt between his legs. It felt right being there between his spread thighs, right to free his length from the tight, white briefs and bare it to Edwin’s gaze. His mouth watered at the sight, thick and satisfying, so pretty it begged for his lips. He gazed at Forrest’s face, then leaned in and licked the tip, teasing around the head before covering it with his mouth.

  Forrest groaned and wove his fingers through Edwin’s hair. Though Forrest pulled the curls, he was obviously restraining himself. As arousing as the noises Forrest made were, it was the intensity of his gaze that killed Edwin.

  It was easy enough to convince a guy to be blown, but the way Forrest was watching every second made Edwin feel like it mattered to Forrest that it was Edwin doing it.

  Forrest’s grip tightened as Edwin relaxed his throat, allowing the length to gag him. This used to be second nature, but after so long, it challenged him, and Forrest’s dick was big enough to give a porn star pause. But Edwin loved it. The sore jaw and uncomfortable scrape of the cockhead in his throat made him feel alive.

  Edwin held Forrest’s shaft steady with one hand and tried to gauge how far he could push his luck. He wanted to see all of Forrest, to touch his bare thighs and feel the blond hairs prickle his fingertips. This meant so much more to Edwin than just fooling around, not only because it had been so long, but because Forrest occupied so many of his dreams lately, both waking and sleeping.

  He sucked Forrest desperately, wanting to choke on him, to devour him in a way that could ease the emptiness. As much as Edwin wanted to, he wasn’t sure he could take off his clothes for Forrest, whether he could let Forrest fuck him. If he crossed that line, there’d be no turning back.

  Eyes wide, he gazed up at Forrest and tugged with his free hand at a belt loop, trying to urge Forrest out of his jeans. Forrest took the hint and stood enough to strip, leaving briefs and jeans in a wad next to the bed. There was something shy about his posture now, his head down and hair shielding his face.

  For a moment, Edwin couldn’t fathom why a man with such a beautiful body would be hesitant to show it off. Then, looking closer, he saw the scars on his chest and abdomen. Perfectly round marks Edwin couldn’t identify. Strips of bubbled skin, probably from beatings with a belt.

  The scars were faded, and given the loving way Forrest spoke of his father, Edwin deduced that the aforementioned bastard stepfather must’ve been the culprit.

  Edwin traced the marks and then leaned in to kiss them. Edwin wanted to show Forrest all the tenderness he’d been denied in the past. As he feathered his fingertips over the pale seams on the golden skin, he gazed up at Forrest to see if he’d allow it. When Forrest didn’t stop him, Edwin caressed the marred skin with lips and tongue.

  Love grew as he explored Forrest’s body, a more profound feeling than deep affection for a friend. What now blossomed in his chest was doomed and unilateral, but it hurt beautifully, breaking through the walls Edwin had built.

  Emboldened, he turned Forrest to face away from him so Edwin could see his backside. Edwin bit back a moan as he got an eye-level view of the taut, perfect curve of Forrest’s ass, but there, too, were scars. Edwin kissed them, hoping Forrest would permit the touches despite how intimate and strange they had to feel coming from someone like him.

  Forrest tensed and stared back at Edwin. His blue eyes were wide and questioning. He bit his lip as he watched Edwin fondle him. “I don’t usually…I mean, is that what you like?”

  “I just wanted to see. I’m sorry.” Edwin placed both hands on Forrest’s lower back and kneaded, massaging the muscles to relax him. He turned Forrest around and nuzzled his cock in apology, reveling in the way it felt against his face. He wanted to rub his cheeks against it like a cat marking its territory, but he didn’t want to turn Forrest off with his stubble. He regarded Forrest with something like worship, his gaze full of hope and fear that Forrest would recognize it for what it was.

  “Stroke it for me?” Edwin gave Forrest a lopsided smile and arched an eyebrow, hoping to put him at ease.

  Forrest’s look turned sly. He sat on the bed, tracing his calloused fingers along his rigid cock—not quite stroking, but with enough intent to let Edwin know he’d do it.

  “I need inspiration. Take off your clothes.”

  Edwin couldn’t imagine his scrawny, forty-two-year-old body would arouse Forrest, and no one had seen him naked in so long that the idea was terrifying. Somehow, if no one else had tracked the changes in his physique since Howard’s death, they weren’t real. Putting his flaws on display for Forrest was almost more risk than it was worth.

  Then he looked at Forrest’s fingers toying with that beautiful cock, and caved enough to remove his suit jacket and the shirt Forrest had half unbuttoned. With his upper body bare, he felt more vulnerable than he had in years. It was difficult not to cover himself with his arms like a schoolgirl. Instead, he moved to the bed and stretched out on his side, gazing steadily at his friend.

  Forrest sat on his knees in front of Edwin, slowly rolling his fingers over his ever-reddening cock. As hard and big as he thought Forrest was before, the more Forrest worked himself, the bigger it grew.

  “You’re not playing fair, Edwin. I said take off your clothes. I want to see your cock.”

  Edwin bit off a surprised gasp and searched Forrest’s face before his gaze returned to the fascinating spectacle of that scarred, capable hand jerking that huge, gorgeous dick. He didn’t have the willpower to refuse. Eleven years was a very long time, and Forrest was a very special man.

  Drawing increasingly shallow breaths, Edwin fumbled with his trouser fastenings and toed off his loafers, shifting around until he had everything off but his tartan boxers. Glancing down his body, Edwin saw his cock tenting the fabric and a damp spot at the fly. Setting his jaw, he looked to Forrest’s face, forcing himself to stare right at him as he stripped off his underpants and cast them aside.

  “Never let it be said that Edwin Blais doesn’t play fair.”

  Forrest looked like a contented cat, eyes opening and closing slowly. He gazed up and down Edwin’s body, taking in every inch as he jerked himself. His cheeks were rosy with exertion, and a light sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

  Before he got too far, though, Forrest squeezed the base of his cock and grinned. He stretched out and wrapped his other hand around Edwin’s cock, holding it like he knew what he was doing. Fingers on Edwin’s cock that weren’t his own felt amazing, but to open his eyes and see Forrest looking into them stopped his heart.

  Forrest tilted his hips, and his cock nudged against Edwin’s hand like a needy cat. Then he leaned in for a breathy kiss, and Edwin lost all dignity. He curled his hand around Forrest’s cock to move in time and moaned roughly, too aroused to repress it.

  There was something heartbreakingly sweet about touching like nervous teenagers. He’d been with Howard a dozen years, and though they’d both fucked other people from time to time, together they were an old married couple. The sex had been predictable, comfortable. This complex dance with Forrest f
orced Edwin to rely on his wits, his intuition, parts of himself he hadn’t needed for sex before.

  He felt young as he teased Forrest’s lips with his tongue before delving inside, kissing him with a passion that had roiled for years in unacknowledged depths. As unbelievable as it seemed, he sensed answering passion in Forrest. Edwin went with it, rolling Forrest onto his back and coming up on top of him, lips and tongue demanding everything.

  He pushed their hips together and then sat back on those muscular thighs long enough to spit on their cocks, not bothering with delicacy or shame. When their hands and shafts were shiny with saliva, he collapsed onto Forrest and tangled their fingers so that their dicks slid between their joined grips.

  Edwin buried his face in Forrest’s throat, breathing in his sharp sweat and the smell of metal and motor oil that still clung to him. They were honest, masculine smells that Edwin trusted, reminding him of lost moments and simple pleasures. He couldn’t resist the urge to suckle the skin and leave a mark, just to be sure it wasn’t another dream.

  Forrest’s work-roughened fingers scratched as he slid them down Edwin’s back, but his touch was gentle. He squeezed Edwin’s cheeks as he thrust into their hands, his breath redolent of beer and bacon.

  As the caresses moved lower, Edwin both longed for and dreaded what came next. His stomach clenched as Forrest touched the cleft of his ass with lazily circling fingers. There was no rush, no real pressure, just a gentle massage centering slowly downward. When he touched the fragile skin of Edwin’s opening, Edwin froze, soaking in the thrill.

  Forrest didn’t penetrate him. He skimmed around the opening, making the skin rub against itself in a way that Edwin had never experienced. Even if it hadn’t been Forrest doing it, Edwin might’ve begged to have that awakened itch of being filled scratched.

  Edwin tried to touch himself like this sometimes—when he was alone, too frustrated, desperate to get off—but no toy ever felt like the real thing. And it had been so, so long.