Risk Everything on It

by K.A. Mitchell

  Jax pressed Oz against the door, driving into his mouth, hand stroking Oz through his slacks. The desperate sounds in Jax’s throat matched the need throbbing in Oz’s cock. He pushed them apart enough to open his fly, while Jax was busy shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down before kicking them away. Oz got his own pants out of the way, but only managed to clear one leg before Jax grabbed him, put his hands on Oz’s ass, and lifted him to grind their dicks together.

  “Fuck. I missed… this. Been dreaming it.” Jax buried the words in Oz’s neck and pulled him up off his feet.

  God, he was strong. And really here. Satin-hard dick against Oz’s, hands tight on his ass as Jax slammed them against the door.

  The first major stubble Oz had ever felt on Jax caught in Oz’s beard as their jaws scraped together, both of them straining to get closer for more. Oz breathed in Jax’s skin, that oceany cologne he wore, wool from the scarf he’d had on, and him. A tang of sweat and the smell of sex as their cockheads slicked with precome.

  “I wanna wait, but I can’t. Fuck, I can’t.” Jax gasped it like a confession into Oz’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

  Oz wrapped his legs around Jax’s hips and dragged him closer. “So don’t. Do it.”

  Looking down, Oz watched their dicks slide over each other, cradle and hold each other. The heads bobbed, shining like brown and pink Valentine hearts. One hand gripping Jax’s shoulder, Oz jammed his other between them, skimming his foreskin down. The increase in friction licked up his cock, spiraled out through his hips, coiled in his spine.

  His head dropped back with a thud he heard more than felt. Nothing could hurt, because there was too much juice riding him from the incredible power of Jax’s hips, his arms, his legs, his cock driving Oz up and against the door.

  “Oh. Fuck.” Jax panted the words into Oz’s neck, humid and rough with the press of teeth from an open mouth.

  Oz slid his knuckles up over those abs, found the edge of a pec, and got his fingers around a drawn-tight nipple. Jax’s cock spurted more precome, thin and hot, to slick their grind.

  Jax groaned, shifted, hips pumping his cock from Oz’s sac to the tip of Oz’s dick. So much friction. Hard, fast.

  Jax landed a kiss, and Oz grabbed on, fingers in the thick hair to work their tongues and mouths against each other while the explosion built in his balls.

  He needed this. So much it scared him. Oz had too much going on outside of the radius of this moment. Too much depending on him and his decisions. Knowing that didn’t do a thing to stop the craving for this man, his taste, his body, his voice. God, the voice.

  Sexy on the phone, even sweeter in person.

  Jax tore his mouth free, the whine and stutter Oz was hungry for catching in the stubbled throat. “God. Gonna come. Missed this so much. Missed you.”

  Jax’s hips stuttered too, and he shot off a fountain between them. Hot, heavy streams coated their chests and bellies. Jax jerked and shook. Oz clung to him, rode the friction until his balls unloaded, tearing a shout from his lips as the orgasm ripped through him, shot after shot until the spasms made his muscles ache.

  Jax relaxed his hold, letting Oz slide down to get his feet on the floor. With Jax’s head on Oz’s shoulder, his breath roared past Oz’s ear. Oz stroked his fingers through Jax’s hair, fighting to calm the breath scraping his own throat raw.

  Jax lifted his head, and those bright blue eyes were a hell of a thing to get hit with while all those so-damned-good chemicals were still flying around Oz’s bloodstream.

  “So…. Hi. How you been?” Jax smiled.

  Oz smiled back. “I missed you too.”

  OZ’S KNEES had just enough strength in them to get him to the bed. They peeled off their come-splattered shirts, then stretched out on the sheets, tangling their legs together as they propped their heads up on elbows to face each other.

  “Standing sex has one advantage,” Jax said, his foot stroking along Oz’s calf.

  “Just one?” Oz didn’t see a downside. His blood still pumped solid contentment to his fingertips.

  “No wet spot.” Jax smoothed a hand over the sheet between them.

  “Except on your shirt.”

  Jax shrugged. “Totally worth it.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  Jax leaned forward, and Oz met the kiss. Soft, slow, easy. Jax slid his hand from Oz’s shoulder to his hips, then abruptly pulled back.

  “Sorry.”

  “For what?” Oz asked.

  “I don’t know if—I kinda can’t keep my hands off you. Been thinking about touching you so much. I don’t know if you’re a cuddler.”

  The two nights Oz had spent in Jax’s hotel room, they’d fallen asleep after sex. Touching, but not holding each other.

  Oz ran his hand over Jax’s cheek, thumb dragging across the stubble on his jaw, then cupped the back of his neck, urging him closer. “Cuddling is fine. I like touching you too.”

  Jax’s palm landed on the small of Oz’s back, fingers wide, warm pressure. Thighs, dicks, bellies, chests, mouths. Yeah, it was better than fine. As they ended the kiss, Jax’s face hovered, close enough to remind Oz that maybe his forty-two-year-old eyes needed reading glasses.

  The handsome blur said, “I like your house.”

  “This side of the bedroom door anyway?”

  “Huh?” Body still close, Jax’s face moved farther away, into focus.

  “What you’ve seen of it?”

  “Ah. Well, your bed is comfortable. And I hope to make a good study of the bedroom ceiling later.”

  A quick laugh bubbled up, but Oz squinted at the clock over Jax’s shoulder. They had time. Angela had said something about a marathon on KIDZNet, and as long as no one tried to pry the Nintendo out of his nephew Kenneth’s hands, he didn’t care where he was.

  “I think I can help with that.” Oz squeezed Jax’s ass.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  A phone alert sounded, and it wasn’t Oz’s.

  “Do you need to get that?”

  Jax’s jaw hardened. “Not right now.”

  Oz remembered the tone of Jax’s voice as he talked about his friend. The regret and frustration. Arm still firm around Jax’s waist, Oz said, “Long trip to make. Lucky friend.”

  Everything about Jax’s face softened, something about his eyes making Oz dizzy, like he was trying to watch the mirrors while holding the girls on merry-go-round horses.

  “Lucky me,” Jax said, voice deep.

  Though Oz was pretty sure he knew what Jax meant, Oz arched his brows. “Oh?”

  “Been wanting a reason to fly east.”

  “You needed a reason?”

  Jax pushed, and Oz rolled, landing on his back with Jax on top of him.

  “No one else invited me.”

  Oz put his hands on Jax’s ass, settling him more comfortably between spread legs. “How about if we call this an open invitation?”

  Jax’s lips quirked, not the easy grin he flashed without effort, but the kind of half smile Oz had learned was closer to what Jax was really feeling.

  Jax’s gaze swept in the direction of their groins. “Invitation for what?”

  “You to visit. And whatever else happens.”

  Jax kissed him, hips moving slow. “Let’s call this an open RSVP.”

  “Done.”

  Oz’s dick wanted to get back in play, but he wasn’t there yet. From the easy pace of Jax’s kisses and hip flexing, he wasn’t quite ready either. But it was nice to just feel the solid weight of him, the muscles of his ass tightening and relaxing with the motion of his hips. Oz wished they had longer.

  He supposed he could ask Jax his plans. But that would probably lead to the usual vagueness and evasion that reminded Oz too much of Joaquín. It was better this way. No questions meant he didn’t have to worry about pushing Jax into deliberate lies.

  Jax shifted off him about the time Oz realized Jax had stopped moving.

  Oz lifted up on his elbows. “Something wrong?”


  Jax wore the bland smile. “You seemed a million miles away. Can get that on the phone.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Should I be leaving?”

  Oz’s body reacted before his brain, reaching for Jax, arm locked behind his shoulder, leg driving between his to wrap them together. “No. Don’t.” The urgency pumped a rush of adrenaline through Oz’s blood, bringing his dick back online.

  Jax brought a hand to either side of Oz’s face. “If you want me, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I do.” Too fucking much. Oz rolled Jax under, like he could sink in and tangle their bone and muscle together.

  Jax opened his mouth under Oz’s kiss, legs dropping open wide. What they both wanted now was right there in the wordless offer of Jax’s tongue luring Oz’s in deeper, the tilt of Jax’s hips.

  The build was slower than the immediate hunger they’d had against the door. A different kind of pressure filling Oz up, like a slow rise of floodwater until it was too late to escape. His hips moved on their own, rubbing his dick on Jax’s soft, fuzzy sac, balls heavy on either side, a special massage on the shaft. After drawing back, Oz lifted Jax enough to slide along his crack and watched Jax’s cock fill, hardening from the promise of that drag across his hole.

  Jax licked his lips, and they shone in the weak sunlight coming through the curtains. Oz worked his way up to them, stopping to press his cock along Jax’s, skate it through the muscle cuts over his hips, paint the ripples of his abs with precome. The hard points of his nipples got a special kiss from the edge of the crown, driving them both nuts as Oz stroked back and forth first on one and then the other as drops slid from the slit and coated those dark red tips.

  Jax was panting and lunging for a taste by the time Oz swiped his dick across Jax’s lips, doubling the shine. Knees at Jax’s armpits, Oz gave him only the tip to suck. The incredible focus of Jax’s tongue and lips—so much wet heat—made Oz’s head drop back on his neck. After staring up for a second, he looked down at his cock gliding between lips gone dark and swollen.

  He pulled back, and Jax’s breath shuddering over the wet head made him shiver.

  Oz inched out of reach. “Mmm. How’s the view?”

  “Fucking love it.” Jax met Oz’s gaze, then stared at his cock.

  “Meant the ceiling.” Oz took another deep breath. “Good color?”

  Jax’s real smile came up, slow and sweet. “Off-white is warmer.”

  Oz grinned as he scooted back, then lunged over to the nightstand to grab the lube. “Keep studying it.”

  Jax groaned, a forearm coming over his eyes as Oz slid a finger in him. Jax was tight, and Oz concentrated on softening the ring of muscle with his thumb.

  Despite Jax’s insistence to “God, just fuck me,” Oz worked him slowly up to two fingers, adding more and more lube until the tension was gone.

  He got himself good and slick, right to the balls, then held himself against that pulsing muscle, waiting for the give, the welcome to exquisite pressure and heat.

  “Now. Please.” Jax’s voice was a whisper harsh enough to echo in the room.

  His body opened then, letting Oz sink in more than halfway.

  “Oh fuck. Feel so good on me.” God, he did. All those little ripples and the skin of the hole clinging and— “Fuck. Jax. Don’t move.”

  Jesus. It was an accident. Except, Oz couldn’t really believe that. They hadn’t been rushing. No, Oz was in him bare because he’d wanted to be in him bare. And what was more, he wanted to keep on fucking Jax like this, fuck him raw, shoot deep inside. Fill him with every bit of come Oz’s balls could spit out and still stroke on the slick heat inside.

  Jax moved the arm flung over his forehead, but he stopped rocking into Oz’s motion. “I’m good,” he slurred. “Ready for more.”

  “Relax. I’m pulling out. Forgot a condom.”

  Jax’s gaze sharpened, narrowing on Oz’s face, while muscles clamped down, locking on Oz’s dick. Jax’s hands settled on Oz’s hips, the grip much less rigid than the one inside.

  “It’s fine. If I need to, I’ll do another round of the postexposure pills.”

  Yes. Please yes. All that sensation. Him full of my come. Oz took a long breath.

  Jax mirrored him, and motion pulsed along Oz’s cock.

  No. He—

  Jax stared up, steady. No flickers, no reaching for his ear. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since—well, since you.”

  “I—” Brain. Connect. Help. Stop thinking about how good it feels. Physical. Every January. Blood tests. STI panel. “Me either.”

  That quirk in Jax’s lips. Oz needed to kiss it. Bury himself in deep and hump and fuck until everything burned away in that pure rush of sensation.

  “So. A reason not to?”

  Reasons. Rules. Responsibility. All of it pounded into his head. Jax rocked. Pulsed his ass around Oz’s bare cock. So not fair.

  Oz lifted Jax’s hips higher, spread his ass wide, and slammed all the way home.

  Jax’s fingers dug in hard, half pushing Oz away, half holding him there. Everything about him—neck, mouth, cheeks, eyes, ass—clenched tight.

  Then he shuddered, moaned, and wrapped his legs around Oz’s waist. “God, yes. Do it.”

  The first strokes were blind, frantic pleasure, like he’d been holding back forever, but then he found the rhythm, dropped into it, rocking up and in so Jax rode it with him, gasping and letting out those sexy, hoarse whines Oz loved hearing.

  He drove forward, hiking Jax’s legs over his shoulders to get to his mouth.

  Jax’s ass squeezed and pulsed, his dick trapped between them spilling a slick stream of precome. Jax tore free from the kiss, and Oz needed the air too.

  The pulse and texture, and that slick, clinging rim, were making him crazy, everything so hot and wet.

  “Fuckfuckfuck.” Jax started a steady chant, voice getting higher. His ass clamped down harder, twitching, dragging Oz with him to the edge.

  He should ask if Jax was sure, and then it was too fucking late. His nuts went tight, and he pumped faster, hips pistoning, and he shot.

  Jax gasped, and Oz’s body went again, a long burst, flooding him, coating them both with spurt after spurt.

  Jax’s eyes went wide, and his dick spat warm and sticky between them, three solid shocks jerking his body.

  “Fuck.” It was long and drawn out, and Jax jerked again.

  “Yeah.” Oz tried to wrap himself around Jax, somehow fit him inside to match the need in a suddenly empty belly.

  Jax ran his hands up Oz’s back. “I’ve never come like that before.” He let out another long breath against Oz’s shoulder. “I mean, hands free.”

  Oz’s chest yawned wider, not hollow now, but full of pride. “Oh really?”

  Jax made a weak punch against Oz’s shoulder. “Dick.” After sliding a hand back down to Oz’s hip, Jax wiggled his fingers between them, brushing Oz’s shaft and the slick rim still stretched around him. “Never done that either.”

  Oz lifted up on his fists. “Never?”

  “No.” Jax looked away, but Oz didn’t think it was a lie. “I mean, not that I could tell, when you first—but then the way you were in me—you were different. And when you came.”

  Oz had an absurd desire to cry. And he hadn’t done that since they put Regan in his arms and then asked if he wanted to meet her sister.

  He clenched his teeth.

  “Anyway.” Jax cleared his throat and let his hands fall away. “I’m fine with it. I can go on the postexposure pills, like I said.”

  “I had a full screen in January. Negative for everything they tested and I haven’t—like I said.” Of course it was the truth, but if the situation was reversed, Oz wouldn’t trust a guy he barely knew.

  Except he did know Jax. Not what he did for a living or his address, or for fuck’s sake his last name, but Oz knew when Jax was frustrated or had had a long day, or when he was trying to avoid a question. Oz knew Jax would drop everyth
ing to fly across the country to help out a friend whether the friend wanted it or not, but didn’t assume anything where Oz was concerned.

  “So we’re good,” Jax said.

  Oz’s dick had softened, and he eased out.

  “Makes that a bit smoother.” Jax brought his hand to his ass again.

  Oz leaned away enough to watch Jax dip a finger into a drip of come coating his crack.

  Jax groaned. “Fuck. That’s hot.”

  Oz couldn’t argue with that. Even if he wouldn’t be in any shape to do anything about it for hours.

  And by then he’d be Superdad again. Lunches, schoolbags, baths, bedtime.

  He kissed Jax and shifted onto one side. If Oz let himself be less than super, they could order takeout for supper and he’d buy himself more time with Jax. Time to do this, just touch him and talk about nothing.

  Jax turned on his side and humped closer. “Definitely going to be feeling that for days, and I am so not complaining.”

  Oz’s dick felt raw, and the twinge in his back and thighs let him know Jax wouldn’t be the only one with physical reminders. Oz stroked a hand up and down Jax’s chest, then settled over the soft patch of hair on his belly, where it was wet and sticky with come.

  “Not complaining about that either, but we are kind of a mess.” Jax smiled gently. “And I’m guessing as open as the invitation is, I’m going to need to get dressed soon.”

  Resentment tightened Oz’s jaw, all the way to the back of his neck, and he tried to make himself relax. Jax wasn’t saying anything that Oz didn’t know—wouldn’t have been forced to say out loud if Jax hadn’t done it first. Wishing things were different didn’t make them that way.

  Jax sat, turned away, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Okay. So. If it’s not a huge imposition, I could use a few minutes in your bathroom.” He spoke to the wall, tone cheerful, but Oz heard the lie in that.

  He scooted up to Jax’s back, but the muscles flinched when Oz put a hand on it.

  “I’m not throwing you out.” Oz slid over to sit next to Jax.

  “Never said you were.”