Mile High -Book 1 of the Men in Motion Series

by GA Hauser

Once he returned with a handful of napkins and dabbed at the puddle, Taylor’s face was contorted with some inner fury he was obviously dealing with. Owen was almost afraid to ask him to repeat what he had said, sure he had it wrong. No one was nuts about him. Not that way. Not in an I-have-to-have-him-or-I’ll-die way. Owen Braydon? The fat kid with braces in school? No. This wasn’t happening.

  Through all the chaos of the spill and the lack of communication skills between them, an announcement rang out for boarding on United’s flight from LA to Denver.

  “Shit. We’re boarding.” Owen guzzled the remainder of his wine.

  Taylor picked up the bottle of beer to chug down, and they left with a mess of damp napkins and empty bottles littering the tiny table.

  Owen couldn’t keep up with Taylor’s angry stride. “Taylor…wait, will ya? We’ll get there. The gate’s not that far.” Finally Owen had to actually grab Taylor’s elbow to stop his steam-rolling progress and solitary mission to the waiting area at the gate. “Mr. Madison!”

  That woke Taylor up. He stopped moving and turned to see Owen’s face. It seemed as if what he found there confused him. “What?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re trying to ditch me or something. Christ, should we race to the damn gate? Tag, you’re it?”

  “I’m not doing that. Come on. We need to get there.” Taylor continued their progress but at a slightly more reasonable pace.

  Exasperation couldn’t describe Owen’s feelings. As they whizzed past other travelers, newspaper stands, waiting areas, Owen wanted to ask him what the hell was going on. Shacked up with a female? What on earth gave Taylor that idea?

  Just as they reached the correct gate, the attendant called out their row and zone. Owen was so glad they were seated together he could cry. At least now they had two and a half hours of chatting time, no escape. Standing behind the gorgeous Taylor Madison, Owen couldn’t stop ogling Taylor’s ass and legs and almost forgot to hand his pass to the overly made-up woman with the dyed red hair. Following that tight set of buns down the aisle of the plane, Owen was mesmerized by the way Taylor moved, his strut, his proud as a gamecock gait that screamed confidence and manhood. Wow, I want a piece of that again…give it to me, give it to me. I just want to stick my face between your thighs and…

  “You want window or aisle?” came Taylor’s dry query.

  Owen was sick of the attitude. Rudely, uncharacteristically, he shoved Taylor into their row, which only had two seats in it, and said, “Want to know what I want? Huh? I want you to spurt so hard you scream in ecstasy.”

  Trying to get over the comment and settled down in the window seat, Taylor blinked at him in surprise. “What did you say?”

  Getting comfortable next to him, Owen lowered his voice and replied, “What girlfriend? When did I give you the idea I had a girlfriend? I have an ex-wife and a daughter in Denver. I didn’t lie about it. I told you.” Pausing, Owen then added, “Our feng shui is off.”

  “What?” Taylor laughed and his brows furrowed in confusion.

  “Get up. I’m supposed to sit by the window.” Owen stood in the aisle and waited.

  ~

  Laughing the entire time, Taylor climbed out, changed places with Owen then sat on the aisle seat and stared at him. “You are adorable. I can’t get over you.”

  “Me?” Owen pressed his hand to his chest. “You must mean some other guy, Taylor, because I’m not adorable. I’m insane.”

  Pushing the arm rest between them up and out of the way, Taylor knew he had time as the boarding process continued before he had to buckle up and sit straight. Twisting as much as he could in the cramped space, Taylor leaned his arm over the headrest behind Owen and gazed at him wistfully. “How can a man who looks as good as you do, say you aren’t adorable? You have any idea how much you turn me on? I’m fucking hard as a brick. Look.”

  Owen’s eyes shifted downward.

  “See?” Taylor whispered.

  “You have any idea how much I want to suck that enormous dick of yours?”

  Bursting out laughing, Taylor noticed a straight-laced businessman who was sitting behind them staring, as if he had overheard their conversation. “What are you looking at?” Taylor snarled. The man turned away.

  “Be nice, Mr. Madison,” Owen admonished.

  “Fuck him. So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” Taylor asked in excitement.

  “No. You kidding me? One child, one alimony check, that’s all I need. I have no interest in dating again.”

  “Er, including men?”

  After looking around again first, Owen lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “You see? That comment screws my head up. Men. You make it sound plural. Well, the word ‘men’ is plural. Look, Taylor, I don’t want to all of a sudden go around spreading my sperm to millions of strange men.”

  Taylor covered his mouth to prevent a moment of hilarity and then focused back on Owen’s words.

  Owen continued after another paranoid glance at his surroundings. “I have no interest in delving into gay bars. I’m not exactly Mr. Disco, or whatever they call it nowadays. I’m past all that. I like the idea of a cozy home, quiet, a nice meal out on occasion…”

  “I get it.” It was Taylor’s ideal life as well.

  “So, this notion you have that now that I’ve had a cock up my ass I want millions of male penises to follow, is pretty revolting.”

  “Did I say that?” Taylor found the same businessman peering over at them, obviously listening to every word. “You mind?” The man once again turned around.

  Owen paused, then replied, “You sort of did. You said something like, now that I’ve experienced gay sex am I going to go out and be…well, gay.”

  Taylor did recall saying something like that. “I didn’t know how you felt. Look, Owen, just because I fell head over heels for you—”

  “You…you…”

  Taylor stared at him. “You’re stammering again. You, you…what the hell does it mean when you do that?”

  Owen bit his lip and went beet red.

  “Yes!” Taylor tried not to shout, “I adore you, you sexy fucker. You think I want us to just have sex once in a while on the off chance we get on the same damn flight?”

  “But…but…”

  “But, but?” Taylor laughed in amazement. “But what?”

  “But we live in different states.”

  Taylor’s smile dropped. An announcement was made to buckle the seatbelts and put the seat backs in upright positions as they were about to taxi around. Obeying the command, Taylor sat facing forward and put the armrest back down between them, fastening the safety belt. After a minute to think, Taylor responded, “I’m in LA all week.”

  “Yes.” Owen nodded, as if acknowledging it.

  “The project has a long way to go towards completion.”

  “Okay.” Again Owen nodded, pushing his Newsweek deeper into the pocket in front of him.

  “So, let’s just say I can see you in the evenings while I’m in LA. How does that sound?”

  “Uh…do you have to stay at a hotel?”

  Taylor spun around to see Owen’s face. “Is that an invitation to stay at your place?”

  “Duh!” Owen shook his head at the absurdity.

  “I accept!” Taylor felt his stomach flip in excitement. “You sure? I mean, two bouts of man on man sex in a plane does not a relationship make.” Again he caught that curious businessman gaping. “Don’t you have anything better to do, mister?”

  Owen nudged Taylor in the arm.

  “I can’t help it. He’s eavesdropping and making faces at me as if I’m disgusting him.” Taylor snorted in defensiveness.

  “Probably wants you to suck his fat cock.”

  Taylor broke up with laughter and said, “I adore you, you know that?”

  “Stop. You’ll swell my head and give me false hopes.”

  As they crawled yard by
yard to the runway and announcements were made by the captain about destination, weather, blah, blah, blah, Taylor gripped Owen’s hand tightly and asked, “Why do you think I’m kidding you? I mean every word I’ve said.”

  “Look, Taylor, you’re too good looking to hang out with a guy like me.”

  That shocked Taylor. “Geez, Owen. You own a fucking mirror?”

  Owen’s cheeks went crimson.

  “You’re incredible. I can’t wait to see you naked.” Taylor looked back at the businessman and enunciated for him, “I said, I can’t wait to see him naked.”

  Owen choked and looked out of the window in embarrassment.

  “Christ, the guy wants a blow by blow account of our conversation.” Taylor shook his head in annoyance. “Anyway.” He ran his hand over Owen’s thigh muscle. “But we’re headed in the wrong direction, babe. Denver’s my neck of the woods and you’ll be with your daughter.”

  “Yes.” Owen nodded, resting his hand on top of Taylor’s.

  “Can you, uh, can you get away? You know, sneak out after she’s asleep, so we can fuck like bunnies at my place?” Taylor noticed Owen looking over at the businessman again. Taylor repeated for the man, “We’re going to fuck like bunnies at my place.”

  “Taylor!” Owen whacked him to shut him up.

  The only effect it had was making Taylor burst out laughing.

  ~

  Maybe back in high school Owen would have cared if anyone suspected he was gay. Not now. No one was left to tease him, flush his head down the toilet, or lock him in the gym locker room. Nope. He could be gay Owen Braydon from now on. Hearing Taylor’s infectious laughter, Owen joined him until the tears fell from his eyes. It felt good to laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

  “Meanwhile, here we are on a plane again,” Owen kept giggling between words. “Ya got the lube?”

  “No! Shit.” Taylor shook his head. “I packed the fucking things. I really didn’t expect you’d be on all my flights. Christ, were you on them two weeks ago?”

  “I was. I book the same ones back and forth. Why?”

  “I just can’t believe I didn’t see you earlier.”

  Owen smiled. “Would you have pounced?”

  “Oh, yes. Big time.” Taylor caressed Owen’s cheek with his index finger.

  Seeing that businessman staring again, Owen just smiled at him instead of reacting defensively. It was obvious the guy was jealous, after all, look at Taylor. Owen imagined Mr. Pouting businessman had a Mrs. Pouting waiting at home with her Mrs. Completely-impossible-pouting--mother-in-law there to nag him in stereo.

  “So?” Owen asked, “Back to fellatio in the head?”

  “Head in the head. I like the sound of that.” Taylor tore the blanket out of the plastic bag and spread it out over their laps in preparation for some good fun.

  The plane accelerated like a rocket, pressing them back against the seats; the nose began to angle to the heavens and the landing gear clunked under them into place. As Taylor’s warm hand moved to rest on Owen’s thigh, Owen tilted sideways to see Taylor’s profile. He looked like a Hollywood icon. Owen just couldn’t place which one. “Tell me about your life, Taylor Madison.”

  A warm smile washed over Taylor’s lips. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  Taylor chuckled softly. “From the time I pushed through the birth canal on?”

  Breaking up with laughter, Owen cupped his hand over Taylor’s under the cover and replied, “Yes.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. That’s thirty-five years of crap to cover in two and a half hours, and we still need time to fondle each other’s privates.”

  “How about just the highlights?” Owen bit his lip on more hilarity.

  “Christ, where do I begin? Can you just ask me some questions or something?”

  Owen nodded. “Okay. Were you born in Colorado?”

  “No. I was born in Texas.”

  “Why did you relocate?”

  In a deep Texan accent, Taylor said, “They only got two kinds of menfolk in Texas; queers and steers, and I didn’t have no horns.”

  Covering his smile, Owen shook his head. “Never mind. Ah, I take it you got your degree in construction? Architecture? What?”

  “Degree?”

  “Yeah. College.” Owen felt Taylor’s fingers spider-crawling towards his crotch.

  “Just a stupid associates degree in nothing. I worked with my dad to get the job experience. He owns the construction company I work for.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit!” Taylor imitated Owen’s inflection.

  “Must be a rich son of a gun.” Owen spread his legs in a wide straddle as Taylor began massaging the front of his zipper.

  “Yup. Rich son of a bitch. Lives on a sprawling ranch near Houston. Can’t say I like the bastard, but he was good for a job.”

  “Nice.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s nice. This fucking cock I’m holding…oh, baby!”

  “How come you don’t have a strong Texas accent? I only hear a slight one.”

  “I do if ya get me drunk enough. I learned to enunciate my words and not sound like a fricken oil-monger. No one likes a cocky Texan. Most of all me.” Taylor closed his eyes and inhaled a breath through his teeth in exaggeration. “Oh, I like that wonderful mound between your legs. Man!”

  Owen leaned up in his chair to have a look around as Taylor grew slightly louder. They had finally leveled off and the flight attendants were getting the drink cart ready as a video played a safety demonstration. “You’re making me crazy,” Owen whispered through the side of his mouth.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “I heard it then.”

  “Heard what?”

  “Your Texas accent.” Owen shivered as Taylor’s hand tucked deeply between his legs.

  “Damn! I hate it when that happens. I’m a closet-Texan. Come to the bathroom. They shut off the seatbelt sign.”

  “Now? Before the drink cart comes?” Owen looked back at the pouty businessman in paranoia. Before Owen could blink, Taylor had stood up and was moving down the aisle. Swallowing his nerve, Owen knew it was going to seem odd for them both to be gone when the cart showed up. “Oh, well.” He slid out to the aisle and made his way back to the only occupied bathroom.

  When the door opened and Taylor’s hand reached out for him, Owen was once again dragged into the miniature space by his shirt. Again face to face, literally, Owen whispered, “I bet that fat guy tells on us.”

  “How can they prove anything? Screw them. Maybe you’re handicapped and you need help taking a pee.” Taylor unzipped Owen’s jeans. “I have been thinking of this all week.”

  “Have you?”

  “Oh, god, yes.”

  As Taylor sat on that noisy toilet seat, Owen drew his shirt up, exposing his abdomen and pelvis for him. When Taylor’s mouth enveloped him, Owen closed his eyes and shivered visibly. “Oh, Christ, Taylor, that feels so fucking amazing.”

  Taylor gripped Owen’s hips and sucked deep and hard.

  A ripple of pleasure washed down Owen’s back, then he tensed up his muscles and climaxed, gasping at the sensation. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he found Taylor grinning up at him wickedly.

  “Wow.”

  “Glad you liked it.” Taylor stood up and changed places with Owen. Owen buttoned his fly and sat down, reaching for Taylor’s exposed cock. This time he was ready. Gripping the base with both hands, Owen went for it with more enthusiasm than his first voyage into the art of the perfect blowjob. It made sense, do unto others what you like done unto you. It wasn’t rocket science. Deep, hard sucking, lots of tongue swirling, and a good dose of ball fondling worked magic. The deep guttural moans Taylor emitted as he came sent erotic chills all over Owen’s skin. Suddenly, the plane listed and the ride became bumpy. The seatbelt light flashed and a sign read, “Return to your seat.”

  Owen sat back and exclaimed, “Phew!
Just made it!”

  Taylor fastened his jeans. “We have to get out.”

  “Go.” Owen nodded to the door.

  As they stepped out together, Owen noticed one of the attendants spotted them. Her face grew grim. Ignoring it, he and Taylor slid back into their seats and buckled up.

  Pretending he was not going to get thrown off the plane for indecent exposure, bad behavior, or something that the authorities would frown upon, Owen bit his lip and didn’t mention the glowering attendant to Taylor. The cart stopped at their row. As Taylor asked for their usual drinks, Owen forced himself to look at the woman. Pinched didn’t begin to describe her expression. She wanted to scold them. Owen could read it in her face. Like a school teacher about to shake her finger at them for rough-housing on school premises, she appeared completely irritated by them. Her hair in a bun, looking every part of the schoolmarm, she didn’t smile sweetly or thank them for the money as did all the other nice women before her. When she walked away, Owen whispered, “She knows.”

  “She don’t know shit. What can she prove?” Taylor sipped his beer.

  “We both came out of the bathroom together. What if she calls some cop at the Denver airport and they meet us at the gate and arrest us?”

  Twisting in his seat to face him, Taylor asked, “You for real?”

  “Huh?” Owen thought he was.

  “With all the damn terrorists and mental patients to deal with, you think some stewardess is going to ask a cop to arrest us? Owen, stop being paranoid.”

  Was he? Owen sipped his white wine as he considered the possibility he may be overreacting.

  “You know how many people screw in the damn bathrooms of airplanes?”

  Gaping at Taylor, Owen shook his head. “No. How many? Is this like a knock-knock joke? Or is it like, how many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb? Does your question have a punch line?”

  After staring at him for a moment, Taylor broke up laughing again, so hard, he had to set his beer down so he wouldn’t spill it.

  Owen was glad his wit wasn’t lost on this incredible stud.

  Once Taylor had controlled his hilarity, he asked, “So, how many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

  “One. She stands on a ladder and waits for the world to revolve around her.” As Taylor cracked up, Owen smiled adoringly at him. Pouty businessman looked over the seatback at them. Owen asked the man, “Wanna hear a blonde joke?”