by E M Lindsey
The angle was a bit awkward, but Spencer made it work by letting Collin set the pace. He didn’t have the brain power for anything more extravagant. Max was driving Spencer perilously close to the edge, and with an artful twist of his tongue, Spencer came suddenly, bucking his hips into Max’s mouth.
Collin buried his face in the crook of Spencer’s neck and he came soon after, a string of English accented words that Spencer couldn’t quite make sense of. Max vanished for a minute, but came back with a towel and cleaned off Spencer’s hand, then he climbed into bed next to them and wound his arms around Spencer’s waist.
“That was…” Spencer couldn’t formulate a full sentence. The storm was still raging, though a little less, and the events of the day had him exhausted already. The orgasm only wore him out more.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart.” Max kissed Spencer’s temple.
A goat bleated outside the door and Collin swore before getting out of bed long enough to let Robert in. The last thing Spencer was aware of was Robert curling up at his feet.
Chapter 18
Max gets rimmed in the rain
Collin’s hot breath against his ear pulled him from an uncomfortable sleep, “Get up.”
Max blinked the room into focus and reached up, tracing his fingers over the rough growth of hair that covered Collin’s cheeks. His eyes fell closed again and he dropped his head against his pillow. His left side was burning hot, and he looked down to find a sleepy Spencer burrowed into his side.
The events of the night before slammed back into him and he fought back a momentary sense of dread and panic. What had he been thinking? Up until less than a week ago, he’d been with Trent. A ring meant for Trent still sat in the pocket of his jeans, though he had a feeling that there were no lingering remnants of Trent in his apartment. He’d been so blinded by his heartbreak, he’d let himself fall into bed with not one, but two men.
They were all still here. Still twisted in these sheets with Collin’s lips hovering near his ear, and Spencer’s spent cock pressed against the side of his thigh. Max didn’t think he could open his eyes and face either man.
“The storm’s passed,” Collin whispered. Max thought he felt fingers tangle gently into his hair, but he didn’t open his eyes to check. “I need your help checking the roads to see if we can make it back downriver, and we can take a look round for your pack.”
“I thought you were a self-sufficient mountain man,” Max grumbled.
“I just let Spencer think that. Come on, then.”
The side of Max’s face was met with a whoosh of cold air as Collin walked away, and Max opened his eyes. The room was awash with bright sunshine. Outside the window, the sky looked bright and crisp, as it often did when a storm had passed. He wagered it was cold out and gave himself one last moment to enjoy the warmth of a body pressed against his before he slipped out of bed.
Max rearranged the covers so Spencer wouldn’t be disturbed, then padded down the hallway, picking up his clothes as he went. He’d fallen asleep in his boxers, and he didn’t think his jeans would have dried out enough to wear.
“Don’t worry about outdoor clothes,” Collin interrupted his thoughts, something large and resilient looking in his hand along with a pair of sweats that matched the ones Spencer had been wearing. “I’ve got spare waders.”
“Is that necessary?” Max asked, taking the industrial green jumpsuit from Collin’s outstretched hand. He tossed them over his shoulder and stepped into the borrowed sweatpants, then put on socks and the waders.
“Maybe it’s overkill.” Collin shrugged, pushing the front door open.
“No coffee first?” Max asked with a yawn.
“Still no power.”
“Campfire?” Max asked hopefully.
“We’ll sort it out later,” Collin assured him, gesturing to the door.
Max stepped onto the porch, then followed Collin around the immediate perimeter of the house. There was a tree a few yards away that looked like it had seen the brunt of a lightning strike, charred and splintered with singed leaves decorating the branches and the ground.
Collin didn’t speak as he surveyed the damage, making sweeping circles of the property that grew wider with every pass. On the fourth look, Max finally spoke up.
“Are we going to talk about last night?”
Collin paused, then continued walking.
“That grumpy lumbersexual thing might work for Spencer, but it doesn’t for me.”
“Worked well enough last night,” Collin said, finally stopping and turning to face him.
“That’s what I want to talk about.”
“About how it shouldn’t have happened? How it was careless of me?” Collin took a step toward him.
“Careless of me,” Max corrected. “I have no business getting involved with you and Spencer.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Trent,” Max whispered, hating the way his name sounded coming out of his mouth.
“That wanker?” Collin’s expression turned dark and he closed the space between them. Max’s back bumped into a tree, but Collin boxed him in. The wet bark scraped against his sweater, gouging his spine, but he didn’t dare try to move.
He’d been taken aback by Collin’s accusation toward Trent’s character, and he was ready to protest when Collin began to speak again.
“You planned this engagement trip. Ring in your pocket, probably already paid for, and he left you hanging. What kind of bloody fool would let a man like you go?” Collin’s question was hot against his cheek, and Max blinked.
“He doesn’t even like the outdoors. I should have known.”
“Neither does your little sweetheart, but he’s here.”
“He’s not my sweetheart,” Max whispered.
“We aren’t meant to talk about him anyway. We’re talking about you, and the man who let you go.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
What Max had meant to say was I don’t want him here. I don’t want that man in the space between us. I don’t want that man in bed with Spencer. I don’t want that man at all anymore. I don’t…
“You’re too good for him,” Collin said. “I don’t even know him, but I know that.”
“You don’t know me, either.”
“Not entirely, no,” Collin agreed. He dragged his hands up Max’s chest, fingers toying with the thick rubber straps of the waders. When he reached Max’s shoulders, he pushed them over and down. The material was so thick, even without the straps on his shoulders, the pants still stood, gaping slightly on the sides but otherwise holding their form. “But I know how to make you hard.”
Collin’s hand dipped beneath the waistband of Max’s borrowed sweatpants and wrapped around Max’s erection. He was hard because Collin was right there. He was hard because Collin knew he would be, and he couldn’t even remember the last time Trent had touched him like this. Max groaned and his head bumped the tree trunk behind him with a thump.
“What are...what are you…” Max tried to get the words out, but the sentence wouldn’t form.
“Reminding you that you’re worth more,” Collin said. He leaned close and slanted their mouths together. The kiss didn’t match the wank, Collin’s hand was tight and rough, his mouth soft and exploratory. His tongue slipped into Max’s mouth, and Collin moaned, the sound vibrating both of their bodies.
“Don’t need a pep talk,” Max mumbled, gasping as Collin gripped him tighter.
“But you’ll take one anyway. Because I don’t have more to give you than this.”
Collin sounded sad, but Max took it for what it was. Collin didn’t want a relationship with him and that was fine. Collin would be better with Spencer anyway, and Max had no business rebounding so quickly. Any relationship he tried to have would end in disaster, that much he knew. He needed to process the life he’d lost before he could dream about the life he’d never be allowed.
Max snaked a hand up the back of Collin’s neck and sealed the
ir mouths together, using his tongue to let Collin know he understood and that was okay. But the longer they kissed, the harder Max got, and Collin’s hand wasn’t doing enough. He wanted more, and if Collin was willing to give it, then why the hell shouldn’t Max take it?
“More,” he begged. “Please, more.”
Collin tore their mouths apart and grabbed the top of the waders and forced them down. He folded the rubber over itself so it wouldn’t pop back up, and he spun Max around before he’d even had a chance to realize he was moving. Collin’s strong fingers gouged into his ass cheeks and held him open, and then his mouth was there, just as hot and insistent and demanding as it had been against Max’s lips.
Collin’s tongue swiped a hot circle around his rim, then pushed into his hole, and Max trembled, fisting his cock and jerking himself furiously. This wasn’t the more he’d been expecting when he pleaded with Collin, but Collin sealed his lips around Max’s ass and ate him like he’d never tasted anything better.
Max groaned, his cock pulsing against his palm with every content sigh and murmur that left Collin’s mouth. Spit leaked down the folds of his ass and his thighs, and his balls churned in their sac. He’d gladly take this moment and remember the perfection of it for the rest of his life.
He didn’t even notice the sky turning dark, didn’t hear the rumble of thunder, but it happened just the same. The clouds opened up with no warning and poured rain down onto them. Collin moved to pull away, but Max reached back and fisted his hair, pushing his mouth back against his hole.
“Please,” he whimpered. “Just this one thing first.”
The delicious noises Collin had been making were drowned out by the rain, but Collin licked and sucked at him with a renewed vigor. Max’s hair was already plastered against his face, and his waders were filling with water, but he didn’t mind.
Collin pushed a finger inside of his loose and spit-soaked ass, and Max cried out. His orgasm tore through him and cum spattered against the giant oak tree in front of him, painting the bark with thick white ribbons of his release.
Even after his orgasm waned, Collin didn’t stop until Max forcibly pulled him away. Collin looked up at him with swollen lips, and Max reached behind him, fingers dragging over the raw and burned inside of his ass cheeks. That beard of Collin’s was going to be the death of him.
“Thank you,” Max whispered.
Collin pulled up Max’s soaking wet pants and adjusted the straps of the waders back onto his shoulders. It was pointless for both of them. They were drenched, and the storm didn’t show any indication of passing quickly by. The sky which had been bright and blue just minutes before was nearly black.
“Don’t do that,” Collin said roughly.
“It’s polite.”
“I don’t like you polite,” Collin said, flattening a hand against Max’s chest. “I like you the way you are.”
Max bit his lips between his teeth and stared down at the dirt.
“We should get back,” he said softly. “Spencer will be worried.”
“We’re almost to the property line.” Collin glanced over his shoulder, wiping his eyes. “One more loop, then we’ll get back.”
“You’re going to give me pneumonia,” Max grumbled, following Collin deeper into the trees. “Does that come with the rafting package?”
“It’s an add on,” Collin answered. “The rimming is free.”
“Spencer will be pleased to hear that.”
“Aren’t you?” Collin snickered and stepped over a fallen log.
As far as Max could tell, there used to be a creek there, but it was mostly now just a muddy mess with deep puddles that were clogged with leaves.
“You told me not to thank you,” Max reminded him.
Collin smirked at him and tipped his chin. “Rightly so.”
“Squak.”
Max looked down at the odd noise and found a small black duckling to his left. The tiny thing was trying to swim in one of the puddles, but couldn’t get any traction because of all the debris.
“Is that a duck?” he asked Collin, pointing at the wet pile of feathers.
“Looks like it.”
Collin squatted down and cupped the tiny duck into his hands and lifted it out of the pool. It made another pitiful sounding quack and stretched its wings out. One of them looked a little worse for wear, and he quacked again hoarsely before settling into the palms of Collin’s hands.
“I think you just adopted a duck,” Max told him.
“I don’t want a duck.”
“You can’t just put him back in there.”
“What do you propose I do?” Collin shoved the duck in Max’s direction.
“W-W-S-D,” Max answered.
“What?”
“What would Spencer do?”
“Spencer would take it back and wash it in dish soap like one of those save the animals adverts.”
Max nodded and pushed Collin’s hands back toward his chest. The duck quacked in agreement and folded its good wing back along its side.
“Fine,” Collin groused.
“Can we get back now?” Max asked, looking up at the sky. The rain hadn't stopped. It sounded like it had gotten worse, and his feet squelched inside the waders uncomfortably.
“Yeah, it’s a straight line from here.”
Collin set off up the hill and Max followed behind.
“We aren’t getting out of here today, are we?” he asked.
Collin sighed and turned his face up to the pouring sky. “Wouldn’t count on it.”
Chapter 19
Collin can't say no to Spencer
Wading through the muck in the pissing rain, holding an angry duck, still horny out of his mind, wasn’t Collin’s ideal way to end his little tryst with Max that morning. Then again, he hadn’t exactly planned on seducing him, either. The night before had been wonderful—more than. The two men falling apart under his hands, in each other’s arms, was more than he could have imagined.
It was better than the perfunctory, emotionless shags between him and Grant near the end. And it was far better than the one-offs in the corners of dodgy looking toilets just before he left London. Michael had been mocking him for his long-standing dry spell, but Collin wasn’t interested in fucking just anyone. Not anymore. He was too bloody old and too bloody tired.
And then these two had stumbled into his life, Spencer almost literally, and something had changed. They’d given Collin a taste of something he so desperately wanted—had been so desperately lonely for—and he was going to have to give it up. He was in no fit state to take care of one man, let alone two, even if everything in him was screaming not to fuck this up, to get it right, to keep them.
“Hawnk!”
Collin grimaced as the duck tried to squirm out of his grasp, but Max had been right on both accounts. They couldn’t just leave the blasted thing in the mud, and Spencer would have taken it home with him. He also knew Spencer wouldn’t have forgiven him if he’d left the thing out in the wild to die.
“Never mind the beast would be dead if we hadn’t come along,” Collin muttered.
Max, who had been doing a fair job of keeping up with him, stepped into his periphery. “What are you saying?” He spoke loudly over the torrential rain, and Collin couldn’t help but find his face—dripping with water, his hair plastered to his forehead—strangely endearing.
It didn’t help that he could still taste Max on his tongue. The musky flavor of him lingered, and he wanted more. In spite of the cold, his dick gave an uncomfortable throb against his too-wet boxers. “Nothing important,” he said, waving him off.
The duck attempted a last escape, but he turned the body, shoving the head under his armpit, and it went pliant in his grasp.
“Have you done this before?” Max demanded.
“Eat someone’s ass until they nearly cried before rescuing a duck?” Collin challenged.
Max rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, I have rescued birds before. No, I have not done it right after a rim job up against a tree.” He didn’t wait for Max’s answer this time, mostly because he could see up ahead where Spencer was out on the porch, pacing.
As they got closer, he could see Spencer was also in his dressing gown, the thick terrycloth hanging too large over his shoulders, and dragging along the wet dirt with each step. He should have been irritated, but he couldn’t shake the desire to see Spencer wrapped up in his too-big clothes all the time. Not just today, and not just tomorrow, but for good.
It was a dangerous path he was walking, and he tried to shove it down as he leaned in toward Max. “Go get your sweetheart inside. I’m going to put this one in the barn and make sure it can’t escape before the storm lets up.”
Max broke off from his side, and Collin didn’t watch to make sure he followed orders as he hurried across the muddy path. There was a bolt of lightning close enough that he could smell the electricity in the air, and thunder followed almost instantly. The rain picked up, chilling him to the bone, and the only good thing about it was that his erection had wilted to nothing.
As he pulled the doors open, he breathed a sigh of relief at the dry air, even if it was colder than he wanted. The barn had weathered the storm for the most part, and he’d set it up at an angle so it wouldn’t flood.
With a sigh, he crouched down, setting the duck on a small pile of dried alfalfa, which Robert would eat later, but for now would make the perfect nest. It was saying something about the poor creature that it didn’t try to run, still cradling its wing close to his body.
“You’re a right mess, little one,” Collin murmured softly. He stroked his fingers down the back of the duck, then gently prodded at the bones. A clean break—and he could set it when the storm let up and he could sedate the thing. He didn’t exactly want another sad, sorry animal hanging round his house, but he thought maybe Robert wouldn’t mind—assuming he wouldn’t try and stomp the poor beast to death before it had a chance to settle in.