“Stop me if you need to.”
In reply, Chandler gripped his hips tighter, tugging him deeper into that hot wet caress and pulling him closer to the edge. Steve’s knees tried to buckle but Chandler wrapped his arms around him, holding him steady…
Steve didn’t know how much longer he could go, but he wanted this, wanted to slip in and out of Chandler’s beautiful lips forever, to keep Chandler looking up at him like he hung the moon in the sky until he couldn’t take one more second.
Steve’s balls tightened up and the deep magic of his release reverberated through his muscles and blood, making him clench and shudder as he came in Chandler’s mouth.
Chandler held the condom as Steve softened, pulling back off Steve’s dick. He lapped and nuzzled at Steve’s balls, still gripping his hips tightly, as if he wanted to wring the last drop of pleasure from him. Steve groaned and caressed his head, smoothing his hair back and running his thumbs over Chandler’s high cheekbones while he tried to memorize the way Chandler was looking at him right then.
When Chandler would have reached down and wrapped a hand around his dick to stroke off, Steve stopped him.
“Do you want me?”
“What do you mean?” Chandler blinked.
Steve felt his cheeks heat. He was nervous as hell. Maybe this was so hard because if being fucked was a rarity for him, he absolutely never, ever offered. It had been years since anyone had taken his ass. It was something he only did when he…well, if things were serious on his part. If he’d already given his heart, his ass didn’t seem like such a big deal.
And, oh yeah. Newsflash. Even if he hadn’t realized it yet, his body had.
I’ve already given my heart to Chandler.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
Chapter Eleven
Chandler gazed up at Steve. Did he want to fuck him? Was that…like do you want a pain reliever that works?
Duh.
“Yeah. I want to fuck you.” Because even if he liked being Steve’s boy, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to be Steve’s man.
Steve bit his lip. From the faint wash of red staining his cheekbones, Chandler realized these might be uncharted, or at least rarely plied, waters.
“Do you really want it? Or are you just offering because you think you should?”
“I really, really want you.” Steve’s voice sounded hoarse, as if he’d been the one to give that blowjob and not Chandler. “But I think this is the first time I’ve ever offered—in my life.”
Chandler pulled Steve down to sit beside him. “I’m honored.”
Steve shrugged and looked away. Was he embarrassed?
“Don’t you like it?”
“Yeah, I like it. But I usually save it. When I feel someone inside me—” Steve’s lashes lowered, “—I need it to be more than just…casual.”
“What?”
“You heard me. It’s special. Intimate. I don’t go there unless there’s more.”
“I see.” Chandler wrapped his fingers together so Steve wouldn’t see them tremble.
“Could this be…?” Steve brushed a lock of Chandler’s hair behind his ear. “Is it possible that what I’m feeling could be mutual?”
“It’s only been two days.” Chandler swallowed. “Not even two.”
Steve lifted his shoulders and let them fall again. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“Steve…” Chandler expelled the breath he’d been holding. Steve didn’t avoid his eyes. His bright blue gaze was honest and unwavering. Chandler read everything Steve felt in his heart; he seemed willing to lay himself bare—both literally and figuratively—if that was what Chandler wanted.
“I’m not delusional or anything. I know I’m older. I know that I’m a working-class guy with some pretty weird hobbies.”
“You’re fucking Santa Claus.” Chandler gave Steve a playful shove.
“Hey. Don’t knock the Jolly Elf, man. And technically it’s you who’s—”
“You have the biggest heart, Steve. You give everything you have to anyone who needs you.”
“Are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”
Steve might be stung by Chandler’s words but if he didn’t say them now… “It’s a great thing, but this isn’t like some movie, where Santa meets an unhappy little orphan girl and solves all her problems.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“Your heart is in the right place. But you can’t help Poppy by creating an artificial family for her.”
Steve remained silent.
“I know you want to help. I admire you for it. Really.”
“But?”
“Poppy has a family. They’ll take good care of her.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Chandler asked. “I’m fine. I know I’m doing the right thing for her, the thing that’s best.”
“But what do you need?”
“I don’t understand…”
“You talk like I’m some kind of do-gooder who saw Poppy and immediately decided that she needed my love, and you’re only about half right—this isn’t about Poppy. What’s between you and me is about us. It’s about me seeing a guy who’s basically decent, who’s trying to pitch in for a kid after a tragedy, who’s filled with grief and fear and—maybe—needs something I have to give.”
Chandler drew in a breath. “Well. I don’t really need—”
“You know very well it’s more than that now. You’re hot and smart and really, really good in bed. Just the way you look at me blows my mind. I like knowing that when I turn around you’ll be standing there, ready to laugh at my stupid jokes, ready to smile in that secret way you have. That makes me happy. And you seem to want me as much as I want you… Don’t make me explain it. If you don’t feel it, then…”
“I feel it.” Chandler couldn’t help it; that much was true. “But it isn’t that simple.”
“I think it might be,” Steve said. “I want to be the guy, Chandler. I’ve had a tough year and I don’t beat around the bush anymore.”
“I guess not.”
“I want to be your guy.”
Chandler thought that through. “What about Poppy?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Poppy is great. I really like her.”
“Me too.”
“I’d love to be part of her family. I’d jump on that and feel lucky to have the chance.”
“I think you already are part of her family.” Chandler inched his hand over and captured Steve’s. “She likes you a lot.”
Steve smiled at that. “But I’m asking you…just you. Do you want me?”
“Hell yes, I want you.” Chandler tilted his head so he could fit his mouth to Steve’s. They shared a languid kiss, their breaths mingling while they took their time lighting a fire, a slow burn that began in Chandler’s heart. When Steve put his hand on Chandler’s hard cock through his jock, sensation rippled over him in a shockwave of pure pleasure…
“Gods. You feel so fucking good.”
Steve’s eyelashes tickled Chandler’s cheek. “Then come here and fill me up.”
* * *
If Steve gave any thought at all to being older, to being just a little gray, a little less flexible, and maybe a little uncertain about taking a man’s cock after years of being in the driver’s seat, Chandler put him perfectly, gloriously at ease. Chandler took the time to arouse him to an almost ecstasy of anticipation, skimming his body with soft hands, plucking and nibbling at his nipples. Marking the skin of his abs on the way down his treasure trail.
Chandler’s body slid over his—all crisp hair and sweat and arousal. Hot breath puffed over Steve’s skin while the rasp of his unshaven face teased between Steve’s legs. Wherever Chandler roamed he left sensitized nerve endings and chaotic longing until every molecule of Steve’s body was waiting, eager for more.
Steve’s cock throbbed in Chandler’s hand, but he merely held it out of the way, kissing every inch of
skin around it.
“Chandler.” Steve jumped when Chandler cupped his balls. “Are you testing me or something?”
“No way.” Steve circled and tapped Steve’s hole with a dry finger, smoothing the delicate skin. “Lube?”
“Definitely.” Steve leaned over and pulled lube and condoms from the bedside table.
Chandler held his hand out. “Can you?”
“Sure.” Steve opened the bottle and poured some of the slick liquid onto Chandler’s fingers. After that he relaxed his legs and let Chandler have him.
Chandler’s touch was featherlight at first. Gentle and careful, he slipped a finger inside easily, then added another to stretch him and—Steve was sure—to remind him why he wanted this so much. A third finger curved and swept over Steve’s sweet spot, electric and stunning, just right. Those fingers began pumping in and out of him while he watched Chandler—engrossed, concentrating, his mouth slack with passion, his eyes gone darker, a flush staining his cheeks and chest.
He brushed over Steve’s prostate again, and soon Steve was arching for him, meeting his fingers as they pushed inside him, and he wondered how long it would be before he could feel Chandler’s dick in their place. He picked up a condom, not necessarily to hurry things along, but Chandler’s fingers stilled, deliberately stroked his prostate and then pulled out.
Chandler knelt and Steve rolled the condom down his rigid length. He’d shown remarkable restraint but now his limbs were shaking with the force of his need.
For Steve, there was nothing like the moment before being fucked. He got chills when he watched Chandler pump his dick with his lubed hand a couple of times in preparation. A modicum of fear only heightened his pleasure. He gazed up at Chandler’s face—at his sweet smile and honest eyes—and found everything he needed right there.
“Yes,” Steve hissed and clasped Chandler’s hand, linking their fingers together. “Go.”
“Going to make you feel good.” Chandler poised his cock at Steve’s entrance and pushed in. “Going to make you soar.”
Steve took a kiss as Chandler buried his cock. It burned—hell yes, it burned—but it was bearable, it throbbed and felt like fire until Steve felt the slap of Chandler’s balls against his butt.
* * *
“So fucking tight.” Chandler groaned, trying to wait until Steve grew accustomed to the stretch, holding on to his control by millimeters. “Gods, Steve, I just wanna…”
“Move, boy,” Steve growled. “Take me the way you want me.”
Chandler rocked his hips back, then surged forward while he tried to get some traction with his feet. Steve’s legs tangled with his and he’d been right, all that crisp hair struck little sensations—sparklike and electric, as their legs slid against one another.
“Gods.” Chandler shuddered all over. Steve felt like magic, like fucking a giant, he was so long and built and—wow, right then, when it was entirely too late, he wondered how it might have been to bend Steve over the kitchen table or the bathroom sink, or maybe even the seat of a motorcycle, and fuck the living hell out of him from behind.
He plunged his cock into Steve’s willing body over and over, watching his face carefully for cues. Was he all right? Did it burn? Was there enough lube? Did he need more friction? Cues.
Clues.
Of which there were none.
Absolutely none at all.
“All right?”
“Uhn,” Steve grunted, then tipped his head back and drew in some short, panting breaths.
Chandler asked again, even as he gripped Steve’s ass in one hand and snapped his hips so hard that for a minute he saw stars… “You okay?”
“Uhn…” Steve hips met his with every stroke, arch and thrust. Until their skin slapped together like thunder, like the final lap at Indy and the crowd goes wild.
That big strong body took him to a place he’d never been before and he liked it. He got lost, climbed, rose and fell. It allowed him the freedom to go as hard as he wanted, and all that strength, all that muscle and sinew and bone, pushed back. Chandler found he liked it that way.
Gods, he liked it a whole hell of a lot.
Chandler got a brief grip on his sanity. “Tell me you’re okay or I will fucking. Kill. You. Steve.” He used his cock to punctuate that without thinking, deep, hard thrusts that made Steve groan…
“I…” Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“What?” Chandler inched his way forward again, angling to either hit Steve’s sweet spot or pierce his heart like an hors d’oeuvre. “What?”
“Oh.” Steve’s head fell back and his cock spattered, sticky and hot, between them.
In the aftermath of that, Chandler drove into that tightly clenching heat, short, sharp strokes that lasted forever—and were over way too soon—when he hurled into his own release.
It took a while for him to catch his breath. By that time he’d carefully pulled himself out of Steve’s ass and discarded the used condom. He and Steve both lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. Chandler’s mouth was dry and his cock felt like he’d gotten it caught an old-fashioned clothes wringer.
But in a very, very good way.
“Are you okay?” he managed, finally, when his heart rate evened out.
“Sure.” Steve turned toward him, pillowing his head on his arm. “Didn’t that seem okay?”
Understatement of the year.
“Yeah. Of course. Awesome. But I asked if you were all right.”
“Chandler.”
“Hmm?”
“I guess I don’t talk much when I have a cock up my ass. But I think I’d tell you if you hurt me.”
Steve reached for his hand while he digested this. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Steve said firmly, drawing Chandler into his arms. “Best ever, boy. You rock my fucking world.”
After a while, Chandler whispered. “I want to stay here with you.”
He felt Steve smile against his skin. “Me too. Now what?”
“I don’t know,” Chandler admitted. “I just…don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
Steve lay awake long after the sun set, patting a sleeping Chandler in one hand and holding his Zippo lighter in the other. He’d watched through the window when the Christmas lights, which were hooked up to a timer, went on at dusk. He’d run away—from his family, from his friends, from Christmas—yet there he was, smack in the middle of another Adam’s Family Holiday anyway.
Life was such an unpredictable damned thing. If he’d left five minutes earlier, had one or two fewer cups of coffee, driven past that rest stop, ignored the open hood of Chandler’s car, none of this would have happened.
It had to mean something that it had happened, right? It had to mean something that when he’d seen Chandler, he’d stopped to help him rather than ignore his plight and drive off, assuming he had an auto-club card.
He thumbed the lid of his Zippo so it clicked open and shut in his hand. Apparently Poppy came from a family of deep sleepers, because Chandler didn’t stir. Steve had been thinking—when he wasn’t simply lost in stroking his hand over Chandler’s sleeping body—about what it would take to make it work between them. About what he’d be willing to give up, about what Chandler might consider sacrificing so they could be together. That’s when he realized he didn’t know much about Chandler at all. He had a moment’s pause when it occurred to him that he didn’t even know what Chandler did for a living.
Steve brushed his thumb over Chandler’s soft lips, causing him to smile in his sleep. He figured he could rule out fixing cars and making pancakes.
Chandler had said something about having built a life he liked and not wanting to change it for Poppy. Was that true? Or was that fear talking? Because from what Steve could tell, a lot of what was driving Chandler was fear. Did he like his job? Was he a member of a tight-knit group of friends? Would he consider a long-distance relationship? Would he consider relocating or would he expect Steve to do that? Would he nix the
idea entirely?
On the other hand, Steve knew he was pretty set in his ways. His business depended on the goodwill and word-of-mouth advertising of his clients. And they weren’t likely to pass his number along to strangers in Poway. Plus, his family was crazy but they were his. Where else could he live and have that? Where else could he be there for them at a moment’s notice, as they were there for him?
That always seemed like a good thing, but now he wasn’t so sure. It had to be daunting for Chandler, who probably figured that he’d end up with a nice guy, quiet evenings, kids later, if ever. That was what he’d imagined at his age.
And there was the age thing too…
Steve pulled his arm out from beneath Chandler’s head and slid from the bed. He followed up a quick trip to the bathroom with a foray to the kitchen for food. His family was probably still engaged in the annual Christmas Bacchanalia, and he hoped that Poppy was having a good time. He didn’t know if sidetracking her with a huge diversion was appropriate, but he had enjoyed seeing her smiles and hearing the sound of her laughter.
Steve found a cup of vanilla yogurt in his refrigerator and topped it with a handful of lowfat granola. He’d just sat down on a stool in the counter when he heard Chandler’s voice behind him.
“It got cold and I woke up.”
“I’m sorry, I should have covered you better.” Wordlessly, he offered his yogurt to Chandler.
Chandler shook his head. He stood behind Steve and wrapped his arms around him. “I think I missed your skin.”
“I can bring it back to bed if you like.”
Chandler flopped his head down to rest his cheek against Steve’s back. “This is crazy, isn’t it? Meeting you like that, falling for you, wanting to be near you as much as I do. That’s not normal, is it?”
“Christmas does seem to put things on hyperdrive. Maybe you won’t feel this way next week. Tomorrow even.”
“What about you?”
“I’m pretty used to trusting my gut.”
“And what does your gut say?”
Steve put his food down and swiveled around on the stool until he faced Chandler, who stepped between his knees and pressed in for a hug. “It says trust yourself to do what’s right. Trust your instinct.”
His for the Holidays Page 31