Scott’s hands came up to pinch at his nipples, caress his rock-hard pecs, finally landing on top of Hank’s hand, the one that was stroking Scott’s dick. Hank thrust in completely and moved his hips from side to side just the way Scott liked, knowing that he and Scott would finish within seconds of each other. “Damn, Scott, so tight and hot, baby. I’m ready. With me, please.”
Scott reached up and tangled his hands in the wet strands of chestnut hair, pulling Hank’s mouth to meet his. Hank knew his husband was close, knew that it would only take another two or three long thrusts while he tongue-fucked Scott’s mouth before they both came hard. He released the engorged cock and pressed his belly against Scott’s erection, increasing the friction the younger man needed to come.
Hank used his free hand to pull at one of Scott’s cheeks, opening the sensitive hole even more, feeling his own balls pull up despite the heat from the hot water. He cried out as his cock released his seed into his husband, Scott’s orgasm squeezing and milking and making him feel so powerful and small, both at the same time.
As pulled out of his husband, he let himself sit back on the bench, pulling Scott back onto his lap. Hank felt the tremors of his own muscles mirrored in those of Scott’s, the smaller man as limp as a rag doll. He felt the lips and tongue on his neck and shoulders as his hands explored Scott’s body, not surprised that he continued to find new spots and new sensations that made his husband shiver and squirm.
When Scott pulled away, their eyes locking once again, Hank saw a wry smile cross Scott’s lips.
“I’ve never made love to a superhero before.”
“Fucking hell.” Hank laughed, his hands slapping at his husband’s ass. “I just knew she’d be telling you those stories.”
Chapter 15
NOT only was it Friday, but Hank had a wallet full of money. Hank was glad to have his own salary again. That was one of the worries he’d had upon first accepting Scott’s proposal all those months ago: how can I buy him Christmas presents with his own money? Hank had decided that he would use his own savings to buy Scott the new keyboard he’d said he didn’t need. But Hank knew better. Scott wasn’t the kind of person to ask for anything, especially for something he considered to be frivolous. “I already have a keyboard,” Scott had told him. “Why spend money on another one, even if it is nicer and newer. The one I have is fine.”
Hank wasn’t absolutely sure if that had been Scott’s impish way of saying no or if he’d just been coy, but Hank was almost sure that Scott wouldn’t refuse the new keyboard if he found it under the tree on Christmas morning. Of course, with Brian providing him with almost fifteen thousand in back pay, Hank was pretty sure that Scott would enjoy each of the many presents Hank was going to make sure were under the tree for him.
Christmas was only twelve days away, and tomorrow was Kari’s due date, or at least the doctors had predicted it as the day Matthew would arrive. But thus far, Kari had been doubtful, insisting that all of the women in her family had gone at least a week past their due dates. Regardless of Kari’s assertions, Brian was positively frantic, Hank having to send him home one day because Brian had asked him the same question about a current project seven times. When it came to recognizing distraction, Hank knew all the signs, and Brian was proving to be quite useless in the office. He’d even yelled for Hank to get the report for the government project he’d coordinated on his desk right goddamn now. Hank had closed his eyes and counted to ten before walking to Brian’s office and pointing to the report sitting in Brian’s inbox, the exact same place Hank had pointed to after the distracted father-to-be had asked for it the previous two times.
Hank had made the executive decision to send everyone home that afternoon with pay. After almost nine months of Brian worrying about the business and trying to remain calm about the baby, Hank figured everyone could use an afternoon off. Amusingly enough, Brian had complained when he learned about it but then promptly forgot about it ten minutes later. Hank was pretty sure he’d hear more about it later on, but he was happy that he’d taken the initiative. Roddy and Hughy had even thanked him, neither of their sentences ending with “fag” or “cocksucker,” so Hank counted that squarely in the win column. The only win he was focused on now was what to get Scott for Christmas besides the keyboard. And of course, there was also the present for his nephew, Matthew Isaac. He’d called his mother, surprised when his father said more than two words to him in greeting, and she’d said something about a silver spoon and being passé and far too old fashioned. “Today’s mother would most certainly appreciate a gift basket that contained all sorts of useful items, like diapers, pacifiers, onesies, gift certificates.” She’d even mentioned that any mother would be thrilled to receive a free session or two with a portrait studio.
Hank wasn’t sure he even knew what a onesie was, but he figured Scott would know. If not, he figured he’d just get the basket and tell one of the store clerks to load it up. He had more than enough money in his wallet and would walk out with whatever the clerks told him to get. Knowing my luck, Hank thought to himself with a chuckle, I’ll get there and the only clerk available to help me will be some guy named Chuck. He dismissed the idea as ludicrous and pulled into the parking lot of Sweet Tot’s, the biggest baby and mommy store in Duncan, and headed inside.
The only thing that kept Hank from running out of the store, safe and secure in his thanks that he’d never be pregnant, was the small blonde woman who seemed to have sensed his unease at the myriad decisions involved and had taken pity, boiling down the choices to those products that she felt, in her own opinion, were of the highest quality. Hank had been diligent in answering as many questions as he could, but he had no idea he should have been asking Kari so many questions. Does she plan of nursing? Hank had almost blurted out, “I doubt it. She’s a pilot, so why would she change careers after having a baby?” Hank had been glad that his brain kicked in at that point and reminded him that “nursing” was just another word for “breastfeeding.” Does she have a preference for cloth or disposable diapers? Does she have any nursery furniture yet? Do the new parents already have a stroller? A crib? An intercom system? An existing education account for the new baby?
Hank did his best, and he couldn’t thank the woman enough for all her help, but he still departed wondering if Kari and Brian were having a baby or opening another business. He was pretty sure that Scott would set up some sort of bank account for the baby to use when he was eighteen, and he was almost certain that Kari had signed up for some cloth-diaper service. As for the rest of it, Hank had not one blessed clue. His eyes flashed to the rear of the cab, to the four or five bags he’d found there. They were filled with items Kari would or would not be using. And if she didn’t use them, he was prepared to pay Scott to take them back to the store so he wouldn’t have to.
He pulled up to his and Scott’s townhouse, turned the ignition off, and took a deep breath, thanking all the gods he could remember that Scott would never get pregnant. He understood that it was a blessed event, but he figured finally admitting, to himself and to everyone else, that he was gay was more than enough stress for one lifetime. He was sure that he would fall head over heels in love with his nephew when he was born and had even promised Scott that he would help when Brian and Kari needed a night out. But as he hoisted the bags out of the back of his cab, he hoped that it wouldn’t be so often that he might end up doing something wrong. He could handle just about anything but a baby crying. It had always filled him with such a sense of despair, not to mention helplessness.
“Hey, baby,” Scott said, greeting him at the door. “Wow, you’ve been busy.”
Hank dropped the bags and threw his arms around Scott, kissing him on the neck, and felt the tension melt away.
“What’s wrong with you?” Scott’s touch was tentative, his hands trying to soothe him and push him away at the same time. “Hank, are you serious? Is something wrong? Is it Rose? Your dad?”
“No, everyone’s fine.” Hank
took a step back and pointed to the bags. “Two hours I was in that store.” Hank watched as Scott studied the bags, kneeling down to look in one or two.
“Beer?”
“God, I love you,” Hank said as he listened to the sweetest laugh he’d ever heard.
“So you won’t be throwing Kari’s baby shower, then?” Scott bent to retrieve two beers and handed one to his husband.
“Wait, I know this.” Hank took the beer, twisted the top, and held the cold bottle to his forehead. “Tina, the woman at the store, said something about baby showers.” Hank followed Scott to the sofa and let himself drop down, completely exhausted. “Ooh, that’s right. Tina said Kari would have probably already had her baby shower.”
“How come we weren’t invited?”
Hank shrugged. Another question he hadn’t known to ask. “Maybe it’s a girl thing.”
“What do you mean, maybe? You have two sisters.”
Hank shrugged again. “Should we call my mom?”
“What if it’s something we should know and she laughs at us? I mean, what if it’s something Kari has probably told us a hundred times, but we just don’t remember it?”
“You mean we should have been paying attention to everything she told us?” Hank wanted to laugh as Scott’s eyes got really big. “Just my luck, I have to find the only queer in Duncan who knows as much as I do about fashion, women, and etiquette.”
“Maybe,” Scott said when he’d stopped laughing, “we could slip it into casual conversation the next time we talk to your mom.”
Hank nodded and put his beer on the coffee table, reaching for his husband and pulling him onto his lap, his hands going immediately to untuck the T-shirt and undo the first two buttons of his Levi’s. Neither of them knew much about babies, but they continued to learn more and more about each other, and that was a much more fascinating subject to Hank. And, he was willing to bet, to Scott as well.
“You’re not too traumatized?” Scott slid a hand down in between their bodies, finding just enough room to pinch Hank’s foreskin, his finger finding the slick moisture. He brought his finger up and watched Hank’s attentive gaze as he slipped it into his mouth. “From your afternoon, I mean? ’Cause I think I might be able to take care of that for you, make you forget all about it.”
“Fucking hell, Scrappy,” Hank hissed as Scott’s hand went down for a second time. “You are so fucking hot. Make me want to bend you over the back of the sofa and fuck you senseless.”
“Before you do that,” Scott said, Hank unable to think of anything else but that hand down his pants, “reach under that cushion right there.”
Hank fumbled under the cushion beside them and found a brand new tube of lube. He growled his approval loudly and popped the top with one hand while the other started scrambling after buttons and zippers. “Jesus Christ, Scrappy, you make me want.”
Scott dismounted and pulled off his T-shirt, then his jeans. Hank heard a whimper escape his own throat when he saw that his husband had been thinking ahead. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. Hank felt himself go from wanting to needing in seconds flat as he realized that Scott must have planned this. No underwear, the new tube of lube under the cushion, and nothing but the entire weekend ahead of them.
Hank looked over at Scott, who was completely naked by now and kneeling in front of him, untying shoelaces, his hands moving up to undo Hank’s trousers as he kicked off his shoes. “Leave the socks, leave the socks,” Hank barked, too impatiently, his crisp white shirt fluttering to the floor as he reached down and took Scott into his arms, smothering his husband with voracious kisses. “Stop,” Hank ordered as he felt Scott’s skilled hands pulling and caressing his balls and dick. “You’ll make me come too soon. Wanna fuck you first.” Hank guided Scott to the end of the sofa, bending him over the overstuffed arm, his own hands trailing over the perfect skin of Scott’s back.
Hank heard the soft moans as Scott bit into the sofa cushion. Hank was preparing his husband in the only way that made Scott lose all control. He kissed and licked and tongued Scott’s sensitive hole, his own cock aching to push inside and fuck this gorgeous man senseless. He reached between the long legs and took Scott in hand, alternating his sucking between the hot hole and the rock-hard cock, so incredibly turned on by the noises that Scott was making that he thought he’d come just from the sheer lust he felt for his husband at that moment.
“Hank, fuck me.” Scott was breathing hard now, his legs beginning to tremble.
“Fuck,” Hank muttered as he abandoned his prize to reach for the lube on the coffee table. “Might not last, Scrappy. You’ve got me all hot and bothered.”
“Just fuck me, Hank, fuck me,” Scott panted and pushed his ass back until he made contact with the head of Hank’s aching cock.
Hank bent his knees and pushed his cock against his husband’s hole, teasing him, playing with him until he thought both of them would explode from impatience. He closed his eyes, his breath catching as he felt the tight ring of muscle relax and let him in, his hands going instinctively to grab at Scott’s hips. He waited for a second or two and then sank all the way in, the sound Scott made like music to his ears. “Tell me when I can start pumping, baby.”
“Now.” Scott grunted, pulling forward and then pushing himself back, impaling himself on Hank’s entire length. “Fuck me!”
Hank obliged him and began to pull out and then snap his hips, burying his cock deep in that beautifully hot ass. “Hold on, baby, gonna try something different.” Hank laid one finger alongside his cock to stretch Scott’s hole even more. When he sank back in slowly, Scott tossed his head and begged for more. “You got it, baby.” Hank did it again and again, pounding into Scott until he thought he would pass out from the sheer sight of Scott taking him all in. He inserted another finger, the pressure on his cock overwhelming him with pure pleasure.
When he sensed he was getting close, Hank pulled out slowly and turned Scott around, silencing his questions with a blistering kiss. Then he lay down on the floor on his back and pulled Scott down on top of him, turning him slowly so that they were each mouth to cock. Hank’s fingers found Scott’s hungry hole as his mouth took Scott all the way in. His fingers explored, finding Scott’s prostate without any problem as he felt his own dick swallowed. Scott pulled up slightly to tongue his slit or nibble at his foreskin, which drove Hank on to give as much pleasure to Scott.
The sounds of licking and slurping and moaning combined with the occasional dirty talking were enough to send Hank over the edge, his mouth falling away from Scott’s prick as he felt himself empty into that hungry mouth. He bucked wildly, riding out his orgasm until Scott was merely cleaning and kissing his dick and balls.
He returned his attention to getting Scott off, his fingers and mouth continuing their previous work, turning Scott into a babbling idiot in short order. Hank felt the long fingers squeezing his thighs, the hot breath pulsing onto his softening cock with each thrust of his fingers into Scott’s tight hole. “Come for me, baby.” Hank tapped the bundle of nerves as he swallowed the entire length of Scott’s cock, letting it linger, his nose nuzzling the heavy balls. “Oh, yeah,” Hank hissed as he came up for air. “Come on me, Scott, come all over me.”
The grip on his thighs was becoming almost painful, but Hank recognized the signs and increased his rhythm, his fingers working slowly but with purpose, his mouth hungry for every inch of that beautiful cock. Scott’s legs began to shake, and Hank took it as a sign. He pushed his fingers back in, finding and massaging Scott’s prostate one last time as he tongued his slit, his efforts soon rewarded by Scott hugging his thighs and letting go of a string of expletives.
Hank liked to pay attention to Scott’s orgasms. There were three different kinds he’d noticed so far: there was the orgasm that meant Scott was aroused but was more intent on pleasing Hank; there was the orgasm that meant Scott was too tired and should have said no but didn’t want to hurt Hank’s feelings; and then there was Hank’s favor
ite kind of orgasm.
Scott could get so turned on, so engrossed in what was happening to his body, that he lost all control. He surrendered himself completely to the pleasure of letting someone please him. It was as if Scott turned his brain off and thought only with his libido. This usually led to the type of orgasm that Scott was experiencing right now, so intense and so powerful that he literally melted into Hank’s arms, reduced to nothing more than an incoherent, sated puddle of nerves and skin. He rolled over, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Fucking amazing, Scrappy.” Hank sat up and moved to lie beside his husband. He put an arm under Scott’s head and pulled the smaller body to his own, brushing the wet strands of hair off Scott’s face before leaning over to kiss it over and over again. “Love it when you let go like that,” Hank said, incapable of controlling the smile on his face. “Sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”
Scott smiled up at him, his eyes unfocused and blinking slowly.
Hank leaned in to take Scott’s lips, their mouths opening for each other, each of them tasting himself and the other together. Hank petted Scott’s belly, his chest, his sides, smiling as he felt the smaller man shiver. “I love you, Scrappy. My beautiful husband.”
Scott rolled over and pushed Hank onto his back, wiggling his way onto Hank’s body until he was laid out on top of the big logger. “Does it all seem like a dream to you sometimes?”
Hank didn’t get to answer the question right then. The phone rang, and they were having a disagreement about whether Scott should remove himself from his resting spot on top of Hank in order to answer it. Hank managed to hold onto him until the voice mail greeting sounded.
Within seconds of hearing Brian’s frantic message, they were scrambling for their clothes, neither of them completely dressed as they ran for Hank’s pickup truck and drove to the hospital to wait—and then to welcome their nephew into the world.
When Memory Fails Page 15