Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  Brandt swam up to consciousness and smiled at his accuser. He grabbed the poking finger and pulled it toward him, toppling Donnelly onto the bed. Brandt kissed him, and they rolled over each other, like puppies again.

  “Come on, chief, let’s get into the tub,” Donnelly said as he put his feet on the floor and stood up, then pulled Brandt upright and led him to the bathroom.

  Donnelly’s bathroom, notwithstanding the general quaintness of the rest of the small house, was newly renovated. He had always been grateful that the previous resident, an art teacher in her late middle age, had convinced his aunt to reward her long tenancy with a large tub and a separate walk-in shower. The tub was now filled with mountains of bubbles, and there were candles on every flat surface.

  Brandt stood in the doorway, taking in the scene.

  “This is awesome,” he said, wonder in his voice.

  Donnelly was beyond pleased. “You like the candles and stuff?”

  “No, it’s all really silly. But now I don’t have to tell my family that I’ve turned gay since you, clearly, are a woman.”

  A sharp jab in the ribs told him that his joke was not entirely appreciated.

  Brandt turned to Donnelly and looked him in the eyes. “Seriously, this is amazing. I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

  He kissed his partner, and their bodies again came into contact. The reaction was immediate, as their recently drained cocks sprang up again eagerly.

  “We’d better get clean before we get dirty again,” laughed Donnelly, as he pushed Brandt toward the bath. He stepped in first, settled back into the tub, and then held his arms open, gesturing for Brandt to join him. Brandt stepped into the warm, bubbly water, and settled in by the faucet, facing Donnelly.

  “It’s nicer over here,” Donnelly said, beckoning Brandt over.

  Brandt slid across the tub between Donnelly’s legs, and then slowly leaned back, hesitating as if he expected to press against a hot surface. But all he felt was Donnelly’s body, warm and slippery, and he relaxed into a soapy embrace. He was astonished at how he naturally fit into Donnelly, every curve meeting its reciprocal on the other’s body.

  And up against his buttocks he could feel the hard, hot erection that was the result of their kissing, and whose mate now throbbed in front of him.

  Donnelly reached around and took hold of Brandt, stroking his chest, feeling every muscle, stopping once or twice to give a teasing pinch to a nipple. Brandt leaned his head back against Donnelly’s shoulder, and Donnelly kissed all up and down the side of his head, down to his jaw and back up. Brandt leaned back a little further and they kissed. Brandt felt the world perfected in that moment, and he never wanted it to end.

  They lay in the tub, splashing and stroking and slipping along each other, the exquisite friction and giddy weightlessness nearly overwhelming.

  In a quiet moment, Brandt chuckled softly and said, “You know what we’d be doing right now?”

  “There’s nothing in the world I would rather be doing right now,” Donnelly replied.

  “No, I mean if we hadn’t… you know, hadn’t started doing this….”

  Donnelly thought for a moment. “Well,” he said, “It’s Saturday. I imagine we’d be in my living room, watching the game.”

  “You were right when you said we’ve been married for two years,” Brandt said. “We’ve just made the biggest change of our lives, and all that’s different is that we are in this room instead of that one.”

  “Hang on,” Donnelly said, sitting up in the tub. He reached toward a cabinet that sat at the end of the tub, above the faucets. He opened the doors, revealing a small television set. He picked up the remote, and soon the baseball game appeared on the screen.

  Brandt turned to him, astonished. “You are too much, buddy. All we need now is a six-pack.”

  Donnelly reached into the lower part of the cabinet and pulled out a small cooler from which he drew out two beer bottles. He popped off the tops, handed one to Brandt, and settled back in the tub.

  Brandt was speechless for a moment. Then he held out his bottle to Donnelly and said as they clinked together, “To the most amazing man in the world. And he’s all mine.” They both took a long drink and, fit together as snugly as spoons, watched their favorite team lose badly. It was the best game ever.

  THEY AWOKE when the morning sun began to make its way across the bed. Donnelly stirred first and, turning over to find Brandt snuggled next to him, propped himself on one elbow to take in the view. Here in his bed, all his, was the man he had only recently realized he could not live without. He lay for a long while just looking, and then, as the sun brightened further, he reached out and stroked Brandt’s stubbly jaw and ran a leisurely finger along the clavicle that stretched so beautifully along his upper chest. He could do this all day.

  Brandt stirred, and then his eyes flew open suddenly. Donnelly, startled, pulled his hand back. His buddy Brandt had shown a propensity for reacting badly to new situations, and he feared they were about to find themselves in the same weirdness as yesterday morning.

  But Brandt smiled up at him, and said, with sleep still heavy in his voice, “Mmmmorning.”

  “Good morning, sir,” Donnelly replied. “How are you?”

  Brandt looked slowly around the room, taking it in. He was naked, Donnelly was naked, they’d had sex on this bed yesterday, then taken a bubble bath. He had been completely heterosexual until about twenty-four hours ago.

  He looked back up at Donnelly.

  “In love. That’s how I am. How are you?”

  Donnelly, stunned by Brandt’s reply, could only gape. As he struggled to form words, tears welled in his eyes.

  “Buddy, you okay?” Brandt asked, worried that he had said the wrong thing. Or too much of a good thing.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” He wiped a tear off his cheek. “More than okay.”

  Brandt reached up and put his hand on Donnelly’s neck. He pulled him down into the gentlest, most ethereal kiss Donnelly had ever experienced. His fear of rejection vanished, replaced with the warmth of knowing he would never be alone again.

  They lay in bed, Sunday morning indolent, luxuriating in the contact of their bodies, the warmth of the sun. They would normally have spent this time at the gym, and the scandal of lazing instead of lifting thrilled them both.

  “Hey,” Donnelly finally said, “I could go for some coffee. You go grab the paper and I’ll brew.”

  Donnelly hopped out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweats. Brandt stood, naked, and looked around, wondering what happened to his clothes. Donnelly threw him a pair of sweats, which turned out instead to be a sweatshirt. Brandt put it on, rolled his eyes at Donnelly, and walked into the hallway.

  Donnelly watched him go, luxuriating in the freedom to watch the bottom part of his tight, round ass peeking from under the hem of the sweatshirt, swinging gently side to side as he walked.

  He arrived in the kitchen as Brandt was shutting the front door, having retrieved the Sunday paper from the front porch.

  “You went out there like that?” he asked, genuinely scandalized by the idea.

  “Yeah, it’s still early, and no one’s up. Except for that old lady across the street. I think she might need defibrillation,” Brandt replied as he walked back to the bedroom. Donnelly could hear him laughing as he went.

  “I’ll have none of those sex-show antics around here, young man,” called Donnelly as he loaded the coffee maker. “This is a family neighborhood!”

  By the time Donnelly had joined Brandt back in the bedroom with two cups of blindingly strong coffee, the paper was spread about the bed and Brandt sat in the middle of it, still wearing the sweatshirt. Donnelly stood in the doorway and wondered at how strange this all was—sharing his bed with a man, with that man. He shrugged and entered the room, handing Brandt his usual mug bearing the logo of a dive roadhouse where they had once chased a gang of bikers. It was sort of a trophy, a souvenir of a bust that made Brandt’s name in
the department.

  “Thanks, man,” murmured Brandt as he took the mug from Donnelly. He sipped, shuddered at its strength, and then luxuriated in the warmth of the caffeine glow that spread through him. He clasped Donnelly’s hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling into it the way a puppy might, seeking warmth and comfort.

  Donnelly, ever the romantic, instantly had a boner.

  He kissed Brandt on the forehead, and then walked over to the other side of the bed—his side of the bed—and sat down.

  “Here,” Brandt said, holding a folded-back section of the paper to him. “Take a look at what our AG is up to.”

  Donnelly took the paper and read the article Brandt pointed to. It was about the attorney general’s plans to run for governor and his platform of biblical values. Donnelly winced and sighed—this was the kind of thing that had made his brother’s life hell, and, now that he thought about it, was not going to make his own life much better either.

  “The guy’s a dick,” he said to Brandt, passing him back the paper.

  “Completely. It just makes me wonder what he’s really up to, pushing us so hard on the investigation. I don’t think retail services tax enforcement provides much red meat for the values voter.”

  “You got that right. All a guy wants to do is watch his best friend shake his moneymaker on the Internet, and this dork gets upset about it. I mean, come on, help a brother out.”

  Brandt smiled over at his partner. “You are a freakshow, you know that?”

  “But… but,” blubbered Donnelly histrionically, “but you said you l-l-loved me!”

  “God help me, I do,” muttered Brandt, leaning over to kiss Donnelly. They were soon rumpling the remains of the paper rather badly as they grappled for best purchase in their embrace.

  “You know,” panted Brandt during a break in their passionate frenzy, “what we did last night was awesome….”

  “Damn right,” Donnelly agreed between kisses on Brandt’s nose, cheeks, eyes, and any other flesh he could reach.

  “I was thinking…,” Brandt murmured, “we might try something… more.”

  “If it involves you, and me, and friction, then I am so in,” growled Donnelly, as he pulled the sweatshirt off over Brandt’s head.

  “Oh hell yeah,” agreed Brandt as he untied the string at the waist of Donnelly’s sweats and began to tug them off. They, along with the newspaper and the bedspread, were soon swept off and onto the floor.

  As before, the intensity of their kissing caught them both by surprise. Neither had ever viewed smooching as a particularly erotic activity, but rather a checklist item on their way to the Main Event. Now, though, it seemed like sex itself, and both men were rock hard in the blink of an eye. They rolled and pinioned and gripped, reveling in the resistance they met in each other’s hard body, so different from the soft and yielding flesh of the few women each had gone to bed with. There was softness here too, of course—curves and hollows of never-touched skin that rewarded a light touch with dazzled goose bumps and a delicate shiver. They laughed and giggled and moaned, hands and lips roving endlessly, restlessly, across the muscled landscape of their new discovery. It was as though they had never really been touched or held or kissed.

  Brandt explored his best friend’s body with an intensity of attention that absorbed him completely. He traced the hollow of Donnelly’s hip, the line that led from his outer waist, under his abs, down to a point right above his cock. He skimmed the inside of the knee with the tip of his finger, amazed at the softness hidden there. Reaching around Donnelly, he swept his fingers along the lines that divided his buttocks from his powerful legs, and the line that divided them from each other. Donnelly squirmed and laughed at this welcome intrusion, and the grappling began all over again.

  Finally, they ended up, glowing and breathing heavily, arrayed on the bed lying close but in opposite directions. Brandt rolled toward Donnelly and found himself looking directly at the one thing he had left unexplored on his best friend’s body. He had seen Donnelly’s cock hundreds of times out of the corner of his eye, but this throbbing, urgent thing before him bore no resemblance to the bit of floppy flesh that made an occasional appearance in the gym shower. It was huge, for one thing, and Brandt could count Donnelly’s pulse just by watching it thrum impatiently. As both men were lying on their sides, it jutted out toward Brandt, pointing accusingly at him as if to say, “You want me, you know you do.”

  Brandt had to admit that he did.

  He flashed back to a conversation of last week—about how it’s not sex unless there’s penetration. Way back then, days and days ago, Brandt never imagined that this moment—and what he was contemplating doing in this moment—was even a remote possibility. And now, here he lay, alongside his partner in every sense of the word, seriously contemplating wrapping his formerly heterosexual lips around that penis. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

  And then, before the chill had finished washing over him, he leaned forward.

  Eyes closed, he did this just as he did anything he set his mind to—all at once and full out. He opened his mouth, leaned forward some more, and Donnelly entered him. Penetrated him. And Brandt for the first time tasted what he had never in his life hungered for, the most private and defining part of the man opposite him. He felt a rush all over his body: blood rushed to his head, saliva rushed to his tongue, and precum rushed out the tip of his cock.

  Which was somewhere surprisingly warm, now that he thought about it.

  The two men suddenly realized that each had been swept up by the same inspiration at the same moment, and each had taken the other into his mouth.

  Brandt was overwhelmed. He was trying to take in all of the sensations washing over him. In his mouth were heat, hardness, salt, and endless pulsing. On his cock were warmth, wetness, suction, and the flicker of Donnelly’s talented tongue. He moaned softly, urgently, around the cock in his mouth. He tried to mimic what Donnelly was doing with his tongue, but it seemed to be everywhere at once—running along the underside, poking at the hole at the end, swabbing under the flared head. He decided that he would stake his claim in a different way and applied suction at the very tip of Donnelly’s cock; he was rewarded with a warm, slippery drop of precum and some animated moaning that rumbled around his own cock.

  As Donnelly’s slick essence coated the inside of his mouth, Brandt realized that he had no idea how to do this. Of course, he once had no idea how to jack off on camera either, and that hadn’t stopped him. At least he had some experience with blowjobs—though on the receiving end, naturally—so he thought for a moment about the best one he ever had. He tried to think back on what that had been like, but it was awfully hard to do with Donnelly swirling that damned tongue around his cock. All he could think of was what was happening to his achingly hard member right now—no other sensation seemed to matter, or seemed like it had ever mattered.

  Well, this wasn’t helping.

  Brandt, who always needed to be in control, finally saw that he just had to let go. He had to trust that his body would know what to do, now that he had given it what it apparently always wanted. He took a deep breath and gave himself completely to the hard, pulsing intruder in his mouth—the distillation of his friend, his partner, his love made flesh—and did all that it demanded.

  Donnelly noticed.

  He pulled back a bit on the monster that had been banging against his tonsils and cried out around it, his lips struggling to lift clear of the stiff, slick flesh, to create some air space through which he could make his passion heard. The guttural, urgent whine that emerged carried the complete story—his surrender, his frenzy of pleasure—to Brandt’s ear.

  Confirmed in their abandon, the men went at the hard work of debauchery with a terrifying zeal. They rolled about, thrashing, gripping eagerly, panting desperately around the fleshy spikes in their mouths when they began to see stars and had to gasp for air. Giving and getting pleasure in equally unbearable amounts, they had never experienced this
totality, never imagined it possible, never.

  Even as they wished for this bacchanal to continue all day, to drag their exhausted bodies into evening, they felt the tightening start—somewhere deep inside them, a command was issued that they could not ignore. Each raced against it, struggling desperately to give more pleasure to the other, as if this were his last chance to prove his love, as if the storm gathering inside each of them would sweep away what they had just fought so hard to create.

  Donnelly reached the boiling point first. As the surge grew inside him, his legs began to stiffen and then twitch out of control. He was whimpering and quivering all over as his grip on Brandt’s ass tightened, leaving bright red welts that would be visible for hours.

  Brandt, stung deliciously by the friction and pressure on his buttocks, thrust recklessly into Donnelly, and then the explosion building inside overtook him as well. All over his body, muscles seized into exaggerated images of themselves, sinews stretched, tendons corded. A roar rumbled to life deep in his throat and wedged its way past Donnelly’s cock, vibrating along its length.

  It was a sound Donnelly recognized. From the video. From that fucking video. The moment when Brandt was this close.

  It was the roar that put him over.

  The orgasm pierced him, electricity wrapped in ice. He wasn’t sure at first if this new thing, this freezing-arcing-burning, was pain or pleasure. He couldn’t breathe, but he no longer wanted to. He wanted this, whatever it was, to take him over completely. He got his wish.

  And, in an instant, his life began. Warmth spread through him, and a surge of obliterating joy. A steamroller of bliss crushed him, overwhelming and welcome. He would be made new by this, and he craved rebirth into a life in which this was his whole reality. Whatever sex and love had meant to him before didn’t matter at all—he would never need those old things again. He floated.

  His soul had achieved enlightenment, but his body’s needs would be put off no longer. The pull of the tightening muscles in his groin dragged him back to earth as they prepared to release the unbearable tension that had built inside them. Innumerable, unnamed muscles spasmed, and the flow of his seed began. There were no perceptible waves, no rhythmic pulsations; there was only pressure, and only one way out.