by K-lee Klein
He was awoken only a few hours later by a strong hand wrapped around his cock and Devon’s beer-laden breath brushing over his lips. Scott forced him away checking to see if Devon was indeed awake before pushing him onto his back and straddling his body. He was horny as hell and going by the stiffy pressed against his own, Devon was ready, willing, and able.
Devon reached for Scott's dick again, but Scott batted his hand away. Instead, he circled Devon's wrist and hoisted his right arm above his head. He gently kneed Devon’s legs apart then situated himself between them, pressing down on top of Devon's sleek body, their groins flush, and skin sliding deliciously together. He was already squirming with desire when Devon groaned and lifted his head to capture Scott’s mouth. Scott obliged with a hard crush of his lips, forcing Devon’s head back into the pillow.
The kiss was raw and needy with no kindness or charm involved, a lusty passion that Scott feared would eat away at him if he didn’t meld himself with Devon. Devon’s left hand tried to wiggle between their bodies, but Scott was having none of it. He shoved it up and over Devon’s head, securing it alongside Devon’s other hand, and then leered down at him.
“I'd really like to fuck you, Dev,” he announced, amazed at his forwardness as he sucked on Devon’s bottom lip. He nipped at it, tasting the tell-tale metallic flavor of blood before swiping the wetness away with his tongue. Devon whined but didn't speak. “But I’m not going to.”
With what could only be described as a whimper, Devon struggled to free his hands, but Scott held firm. “Please Scott,” Devon hissed. “I need you.” He whined deep in his throat and it was the sweetest sound Scott had ever heard.
His body bucked when Scott gyrated his hips, rubbing and grinding their dicks together while his mouth slammed down on Devon’s again. The friction was hot to the point of being painful, so Scott let up a little, moving his hips and groin slower over Devon’s body.
“Goddamn,” Devon hissed. “Feels so good. Let me touch. Need to touch.”
Scott stopped moving, suddenly fascinated by the thin string of pre-come winding around both their cocks. Whether it was his or Devon's was a mystery. “I'll let you go but no touching,” he growled, surprising even himself at how breathy his voice already was. He tangled a chunk of Devon’s hair around his fingers, tugging his head back. He brushed his nose over Devon's. “Promise?”
Devon nodded silently, his eyes black with lust. Scott released his hands, pleased when they moved immediately to his back and not between their bodies. He rarely took control in the bedroom, too exhausted from trying to control everything else in his life, but this was a rare feeling. And it felt amazing to have Devon beneath him, quiet and compliant and turned-on as hell.
“Are you gonna fuck me?” Devon asked with a groan.
“No. I like this just fine.” Scott rolled his hips and Devon gripped his ass, pulling their bodies impossibly closer. “Any complaints?”
A growl and a biting kiss were Devon's answer. He captured Scott’s lips mercilessly, pure need bleeding through him and into Scott. They rutted together, moving as one, their dicks gliding and slipping over each other in a lewd exchange of leaking fluids. Kissing became impossible, nothing more than a frantic attempt at staying connected. Devon shifted and wiggled under him, fingers scrabbling over Scott's back, his hips, his ass. Blunt nails edged lines over Scott's skin, sending flares of electricity straight to his balls.
Their movements became less rhythmic, stuttered, needy to an almost painful extent. They stayed lip-to-lip, barely touching, heavy breaths of lust and desire mingling together in hot bursts of air. Devon’s fingers dug painfully into Scott’s ass when he arched his back, writhing, hard muscles flexing and contorting under Scott.
When Devon stopped moving, his cock pulsing against Scott, Scott doubled his efforts, flattening his body between Devon’s thighs. He pecked a hard kiss to Devon's mouth then attacked his throat, finally settling his nose where shoulder met neck. He nuzzled the sweaty flesh, thrilled when Devon lifted his hips to grind their dicks together
With an unrestrained passion, Scott rocked his body down onto Devon's until Devon moaned open-mouthed, the sound echoing in the darkness. Hot fluid puddled between them, sticky and wet, and suddenly Scott couldn't tell where he ended and Devon began. His cock pulsed, balls contracting to the point of pain, while he rutted against Devon until his orgasm sent him flying over the edge. He grunted, struggling through the aftershocks with Devon holding him close.
When Scott came back to himself, Devon was still stroking his back, eyes half-lidded as he kept a solid hold on him. Scott whined as he eased away, sprawling flat on his back, lungs still heaving for air. He reached for Devon, winding one hand behind his neck, fingers twisting in the damp strands of his hair.
Devon rolled to his side, facing Scott with a sleepy sigh. “Ah, now my dick's cold. You know what you should knit? Dick warmers. I saw them online. I'd wear it all the…time. Would make me think of you,” he taunted, words becoming more jumbled the longer he talked. After a jaw-popping yawn, he pressed a sloppy kiss to Scott’s face, mumbled something that sounded like “gotta get clean” or “gonna come clean” then passed out.
Confused, Scott wasn't sure if Devon wanted to be cleaned up or something entirely different, and he was honestly too tired and oversexed to care. He reached over the bed, grabbing the first thing he found to swipe over his belly. He wiped off Devon next before realizing he was using his own T-shirt as a cloth. Unfortunately, their slick was mostly dry but Scott did what he could. He'd worry about the shirt in the morning.
After pulling the blanket over their bodies, Scott bravely tugged Devon into his arms. He had more courage when Devon was asleep, and the heaviness of Devon's head soothed and grounded Scott, made him feel secure and loved. He kissed the unruly hair then willed himself to fall asleep. Eventually the insistent waves of exhaustion carried him off but not before Scott silently thanked the universe for Devon DuCaine.
* * * *
Scott was contentedly performing his stalker act, perched on the edge of the bed while Devon snuffled and snorted himself to full wakefulness. Of course, as it was most mornings, a certain part of Devon was already awake, and Scott seriously considered using it to wake Devon in the best way possible, but he hesitated, focusing too much on his insecure thoughts until the opportunity was lost. Scott had never made such a pass at Devon, at anyone, but he wished every day for whatever confidence it took to put his mouth on Devon, to be the aggressor in that way, just once.
Instead he did what was familiar; he watched Devon. The sleepy guy was definitely worse for wear with dark shadows underlining his puffy eyes that were still squeezed tight. His fabulous mane would put any majestic lion to shame with hair sticking up every which way as if it had been in a fight with a bottle of gel—or a tube of lube—and lost. Scott suppressed a chuckle when one red-rimmed, brown eye managed to crack open and gaze painfully at him.
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Sometimes his mother's annoying clichés did the job, especially when he was trying to annoy or tease. “Want me to open the blinds a little? Let in some real sunshine?”
“Fuck no,” Devon growled. “Feels like someone was using my skull for batting practice.”
“Ah, poor baby. Want me to cook up some greasy eggs and bacon? I hear that's the hair of the dog for badly beaten skulls or, you know, something like that.”
Devon groaned loudly, swiping his hand at Scott. “I never knew you were such a vindictive bitch.” Scott's laughter filled the room while Devon grunted and whined himself into a sitting position. “Wasn't on my best behavior, huh?”
The little-boy-smile on Devon's face rocked Scott from the inside out. “You were fine. Looked like you'd been having some fun,” Scott teased.
Devon flopped backwards on the bed again. “I wish I could remember. Did you take advantage of me in my fragile condition? I mean besides trying to tie my hands and sentence me to death by rubbing.” Devon grinned more before
reaching out and pulling Scott to him, his strong arms wrapping Scott in a warm, fuzzy embrace. Scott giggled when Devon tucked his nose into the nape of his neck, snuffling and pressing gentle kisses against his skin. If Scott had been a cat he would have surely purred.
“Of course! You're going to be walking funny all day, and I think you enjoyed the torture as much as I did.”
Devon snickered, warm breath skittering across Scott's skin and lighting up all his nerves. “Oh yeah. The sticky come pulling my belly hairs tells me so. Does that mean you don't want me to jump you?”
“I doubt you even have the energy for that.”
Devon sighed while Scott's body rippled with goosebumps again. “You're probably right. How about a little groping in the shower?”
There was groping—more than a little—and kissing and hugging. As far as Scott was concerned, the shower only added extra perfection to an already perfect start to the day. He liked to think dual showering had one of two purposes; wild, sweaty, wet, face-smashed-against-the-tiles sex or calm, just-wanna-touch-and-hold-you intimacy. That morning was the latter, and after Scott's revelation of the night before, it was exactly what he needed to reaffirm his feelings. He was in love with Devon. He loved Devon. Wow.
* * * *
“Oh fuck! My clothes smell like ass,” Devon called from the bedroom.
Scott paused in his coffee-making-tea-brewing ritual. “In a good or bad way?”
A loud guffaw echoed down the hallway. “Is there a good way? You mind if I throw them in the wash. You got something I can wear, babe?”
Goosebumps scurried over Scott’s skin. Babe. “Try the back of my closet, and for the record, I like the smell of your butt.” So forward and dirty. Scott Weston what's gotten into you?
He hid his amusement behind his hand when Devon entered the kitchen, squinting against the light. His body was encased in an ancient pair of Scott's sweats and a threadbare hoodie stretched taut over his chest. Scott forced himself not to stare. He'd been thirty-five pounds heavier back then but hadn't thrown out the reminders of his chubbiness. Devon made them look good even if the pants cut him mid-ankle and the hoodie threatened to burst over the bulging mass of his arms and chest. Devon seemed a little less swaggery and a lot more subdued in the outfit, and Scott certainly appreciated the look.
“That's good to know but I'm thinking you don't want me spreading my assy goodness around your clean house let alone share it in public?” He smirked in all his soft, hung-over glory.
It was a loaded question. Sounded simple until Scott's mind filled with vivid images of a wolf staking its claim, covering its mate in its scent, except that was a little off from the true analogy. And, fuck no, he didn't want anyone else sniffing around his man. His man. Holy crap. Was it time to panic?
He stuttered but recovered quickly. “Um, no, I mean, you can do whatever. Do you need another shower?”
Devon wrinkled his nose and cocked his head. It was too adorable for first thing in the morning. “Did I shower last night?”
“I might've tossed you in there to clean you up.” Scott beamed at the memory. “I have to say, you're kind of heavy and uncooperative when you're drunk.”
“You saying I need to lose a few pounds?” Devon teased, smirking. “That why you're making a fruit salad?”
“Would you rather have greasy eggs and bacon?”
“That's the cure to drinking too much.” Devon's grin was intoxicating. “The greasier the better.” He slipped behind Scott, pressing him against the counter. “But I'll be happy with whatever you make.”
Scott bumped his butt against Devon. “Watch yourself. I'm wielding a very sharp knife.”
Devon’s purr vibrated over Scott's bare skin, tingling up and down his spine. Damn, Scott loved it when he made that noise. “And you wield it very well, especially how perfectly identical you make each piece.”
“Don't go there.” Scott pointed the knife at him. “I saved your drunk…um, behind, last night and now you're making fun of me, while I'm holding this?”
Soft kisses at the base of his skull forced Scott to stand up straighter, tilt his head a little to the left in silent encouragement.
“I'm not making fun. I think it's cute.”
“It's anything but cute,” Scott mumbled, suppressing the sigh of utter contentment so close to the tip of his tongue it burned. “I'm anything but cute. Tell me you didn't ride your bike here last night, please.”
Devon stole a piece of melon from the cutting board, his mouth full when he replied, “Nope. I was a responsible drunk.”
“And a very cuddly one.” Scott slapped Devon's fingers, shoving him back a bit while he reached for the big blue bowl in the cupboard. “Any particular reason for death by alcohol poisoning?”
Scott cringed at the loss of heat when Devon stepped away. He moved to the table and straddled one of the kitchen chairs. His shoulders slumped forward, his face softening a little sadly.
“Did I say something wrong?” Scott set the knife on the cutting board, wiped his hands on a towel, and knelt in front of Devon. He rubbed the taut muscles in his thighs.
With a mournful sigh, Devon stroked Scott's cheek. “One of my buddies' wife is sick. They think she doesn't have much time left. He needed to blow off some steam last night.”
“I'm sorry.” Scott swept his hand up and down Devon's strong legs. “Is there anything I can do?” It was a stupid question, but Scott had no idea what else to say. He wasn't good in these situations, mostly because he'd been thankfully sheltered in that way. He really wished he could find the words to comfort Devon though.
“Naw. He's trying to keep things normal and sane for his kids. That's what Beth wanted so we're all doing our part to support and take care of all of them. I wanna be there for him, you know? But thanks. You're sweet.”
Scott nodded, standing to press a kiss to the top of Devon's head, his lips lingered for a long moment. It was incredibly intimate and should've been uncomfortable but it felt natural. “How about fruit salad and tea in bed?”
“And dessert?” Devon's gaze twinkled at Scott. “Can't forget the dessert.”
“How could I ever do that with you around?” Scott giggled before returning to the counter. “I can take you to get your bike if you want.”
“It's already at home.”
Scott gazed at Devon. “You got drunk at home then came over here at two in the morning?”
Devon shrugged. “It was Saturday, that's our night and Sunday's our day, right? I didn't wanna miss it.”
Shell-shocked, Scott spun away from Devon again. “I should finish this before…it's bad.” He counted his breaths in an attempt to stay out of his head. Had Devon admitted they had a special day? Two days in fact? His heart hammered a little louder in his chest, snakes flicking and slithering under his skin. He sucked in a calming breath and tried to keep the anxiety from his voice. “Yeah, I guess. You don't need to take a taxi though, I can drive you home.”
“Naw. I know you have your Sunday routine. Just relax. Tax season's a bitch, right?”
Something toxic skittered across Scott's brain, scattering the already festering bubbles of panic lodged in his head. “Are you married, Devon?” It was abrupt, spat with more venom than intended.
The look that crossed Devon's face would've been comical had the circumstances not been so dire to Scott. “What? Didn't we have that conversation?”
“But I'm not kidding this time. It's…this has nothing to do with tax season, right? There's obviously something you don't want me to know. Is it a wife or husband? Kind of seems like the logical conclusion. Is that who you got into it with last night so you came running to me?”
Scott’s emotions were out of control and he felt terrible revealing all the crap bouncing around his brain. All the suspicions he'd been having, all the insecurities about Devon's mysterious disappearances, his easy endearments and compliments, and his stealthy ability to keep them hidden away in Scott's house when he was there�
�all of it moving forefront and smacking him in the face…and the heart.
“Logical, huh?” Devon's voice was low, tight. Very un-Devon-like. But Scott was suddenly irate.
“Answer the question. Are you married?” He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, blunt nails digging small divots of pain under his armpits, keeping him present and in the moment. It was a trick he'd picked up in a therapy group; it didn't always work, but on the odd occasion it was helpful. Like right now.
“Are you fucking serious?” Devon all but yelled. He scowled and scoffed, “No, Scott. I'm not married, and I don't have another lover either in case that's your next question.”
Scott ignored Devon's tense posture, the defensive jut of his chin, the intense confusion in his eyes. Desperation could be camouflaged by confusion quite easily and there was no way in hell he was going to get sucked in by Devon's distractions. He could be as offended as he liked. It was time for the truth.
“Then why do you refuse to be seen with me?”
“What the fuck are you—I don't. We went to the club and I went to the market with you. What are doing, Scott? Why are you accusing me—”
“You stayed in the car.”
“What?”
Scott huffed out a breath, the air in the kitchen suddenly too close, the room too warm. “At the market. You stayed in the car.”
Devon took a moment to answer, obviously working his pained brain too hard. “I was tired. You said you were going to be quick and I didn't hear you complain about it then.”
“But not too tired to fuck me in the kitchen before we even got the groceries unpacked.” Scott threw the words at Devon like a grenade about to explode.
Devon didn't take the bait and that sucked because Scott was pulsing with an anger he didn't completely understand. Devon reached for Scott, but Scott pulled back. “Wait. It's not like that. Don't be like that.”
“Like what? You know everything about me, but we can't seem to step foot outside the house without you having a freak out.”