Brothers In Arms 05: Retreat From Love

by Samantha Kane

  “What if it’s not what you thought it would be?” Brett’s question was quiet, but Freddy heard the intensity in it.

  “What do you mean?” Freddy asked, exasperated. “I already know what it is, remember? I know exactly what it will be.”

  Brett finally looked at him and Freddy recognized the emotion in his eyes. It was fear.

  “Yes, but what if I’m not what you thought I’d be?” Brett worried his lower lip and Freddy started to sweat in earnest. Please, God, he thought to himself, let this be leading where I think it’s leading.

  As usual, Brett took the roundabout way to get to his point. With everyone else he employed direct conversation. When it came to Freddy and sex and their feelings for one another it was always vague and oblique and aggravatingly unclear.

  “I’ve never been with a man,” Brett told him as if he was revealing some great secret.

  Freddy had to force himself not to laugh. Instead he kept his face open and pleasant. “Yes, I know.”

  “I’ve never wanted to.” Well, that was discouraging, but again, hardly a secret.

  “And now?” Freddy asked hopefully.

  Brett sighed. “Not now. For the past four years. Since you crawled naked into my bed when I could barely stand and enthusiastically informed me that you wanted me to fuck you.”

  Freddy blushed at the memory. He’d been humiliated at Brett’s soft but adamant refusal. Had he ever been that young? Freddy’s brain suddenly stopped and then snapped into focus. Did Brett just say he’d wanted Freddy for the past four years?

  “What the devil?” He sat up with a jerk. “You wanted me but you denied it? Why? When you knew I was willing?”

  Brett scrubbed his face with his big hands and Freddy’s gut clenched. He was by God going to have those hands on him before the morning was out.

  Brett sighed. “I really did think you were too young to know your own mind, Freddy. And then it became a useful excuse. The truth is I was scared and,” he paused and tapped his forehead again, “things up here were still confused.”

  “How confused are you now?” Freddy demanded, pressing his hand to Brett’s chest.

  Brett smiled ruefully. “About whether or not I want you? Not at all. About whether or not our being together is a good idea? Very.”

  Freddy pushed him back with a gentle shove and Brett fell against the arm of the sofa with a surprised, “Oof!” Quickly, Freddy straddled his lap and rested both hands on either side of his head on the armrest.

  “Freddy?” Brett sounded alarmed.

  Freddy leaned down until his mouth was a breath away from Brett’s. He could feel how hard it was for Brett not to pull away. “There is only one way to find out,” he whispered against those sculpted lips. He felt Brett’s hot breath on his mouth as he exhaled sharply and then pulled in a panicked breath.

  “Find out?” Brett asked breathlessly.

  “Whether our being together is a good idea,” Freddy answered. He leaned in just a bit closer and lightly rubbed his lower lip along Brett’s. Brett groaned and Freddy felt it reverberate straight down his spine to lodge in the head of his cock.

  “Christ, Brett,” he whispered, putting every ounce of desperation and desire in his voice that he’d burned with for five long years, “let me kiss you. Please.”

  Brett barely nodded but it was enough. With butterflies chasing around in his stomach Freddy closed the scant distance between them. The feel and taste of Brett on his lips, finally, had him groaning. He blindly reached up and cupped Brett’s jaw, the scrape of Brett’s stubble on his palms an arousing itch. Freddy tilted one way and tipped Brett’s head the other and he could almost hear the click as their mouths fit together so perfectly. Brett’s hands snaked up and gripped the sides of Freddy’s jacket, pulling it tight. He moaned and his mouth opened beneath Freddy’s, and Freddy dove in to that pool of warm sensation and hot, intense Brett.

  As soon as his tongue slipped into Brett’s mouth Brett lost his restraint. His arms locked around Freddy’s waist, pulling him down until his crotch rested against Brett’s and his chest pressed against the solid wall of muscle that was Brett. His senses were bombarded as Brett controlled the kiss. Brett bit his lip, widening Freddy’s open mouth, plundering it with his hot, wicked tongue as his hand gripped Freddy’s waist, grinding his cock against him. The other hand slipped underneath Freddy’s jacket and ran up his back, the heat of his palm pressing between Freddy’s shoulder blades through the thin linen of his shirt. Freddy could feel his calluses catching on the material and he groaned, pressing so hard against Brett he thought he might sink into him, body and soul.

  This, this was what Freddy had dreamed of, what he’d longed for. It was worth the wait. In some still rational part of his brain he understood that he’d had to wait until Brett was ready. Brett may still have demons chasing around in his head, but he was ready to love Freddy now.

  With a desperate groan Brett broke the kiss, only to press his damp, hot lips to Freddy’s cheek, and then trail them down to Freddy’s neck. He yanked Freddy’s neck cloth out of the way and licked and sucked his neck. He sucked hard, and Freddy arched into it, loving the sting of Brett’s uncontrolled desire for him. Freddy worked his arm out from between them and buried his hand in that teasing, tempting brown hair, holding Brett to him. Brett skated his lips up to Freddy’s ear and ran his tongue around the inside lightly, making Freddy shiver and shake.

  “What about Anne?” Brett rasped in his ear. “I can’t…if you love her, Freddy, then this is wrong.”

  Freddy was breathing heavily, and he found talking difficult. But he knew this was important. As hard as it was, Freddy pulled away so Brett could see his face.

  “Why? You love Anne, and yet this is right for you.” Brett looked uncomfortable, as if he’d revealed more than he ought to have. And suddenly Freddy understood. Brett loved him too. The euphoria that coursed through him left him lightheaded and he leaned on Brett again. Pressing his lips to Brett’s ear, he whispered, “I can love two people too, Brett.”

  “Freddy,” Brett growled and then he was kissing Freddy again, devouring him, just as Freddy had seen him do to Anne. This more than anything proved his feelings to Freddy. Brett was too honorable, too tortured by guilt, to make love to Freddy unless he truly loved him. Freddy’s eyes burned behind his closed lids as he tried not to cry with the joy he felt.

  Brett squirmed beneath him and Freddy felt Brett’s hands grip his waist and he was suddenly turned and dumped onto the sofa, the kiss broken, his back pressed against the cushioned back and his front pressed against Brett. Brett turned and their hard cocks slid and pressed against one another and both men groaned.

  “Freddy,” Brett rasped, his hips grinding against Freddy’s, “I didn’t know. Christ, I had no idea how good this would feel.”

  “Good does not do this feeling justice, Brett,” Freddy answered breathlessly. A whimper escaped him as Brett thrust against him, driving his back into the sofa.

  “I’m sorry,” Brett panted, pulling back. “I’m sorry. Too rough.”

  Freddy grabbed Brett’s rump and pulled him back, hard. “No, not too rough. Just right.” God, Brett felt so good in his hands. Firm, heavily muscled, round, his cheeks fit in Freddy’s palms perfectly. He felt the muscles bunch and turn rock hard as Brett thrust against him again and he groaned with pleasure.

  Brett pulled away and Freddy protested weakly, trying to get him back. Then he felt Brett’s hands frantically fumbling with his trousers.

  “I’m sorry, Freddy,” Brett said roughly. “I’m going too fast. But I feel…Christ, I’ve got to touch you. Only you and Anne make me this desperate. I have no finesse. Ah God,” he groaned as he got the pants undone and shoved them down with Freddy’s underwear until Freddy’s hard cock popped free.

  Brett wrapped his hand around Freddy’s length and Freddy cried out as his hips jerked into the embrace. He couldn’t speak, could barely think, as he felt the rough caress of those calluses on his
cock. Brett held him tightly and pumped his fist slowly up and down and Freddy shuddered and bit his lip. He wouldn’t come yet, he couldn’t. He wanted this to last.

  Brett buried his face in Freddy’s neck and burrowed under his neck cloth again to suck his neck as his hand explored Freddy. He was right, he had no finesse, and Freddy loved it. His wild, desperate, untutored caresses were far more devastating than Simon’s practiced lovemaking had been. Brett’s hand let go of Freddy’s cock and though he missed the contact, he was a little relieved. A few more strokes and he would have climaxed. His relief was short-lived. Brett’s hand pushed roughly between his legs. Freddy’s tight trousers prevented him from spreading his legs more, so Brett’s big hand overwhelmed him, crammed in there, and when Brett cupped his balls Freddy shouted at the streak of pleasure that raced through him. Brett rolled them, his touch gentle, his calluses rough. It made Freddy jerk and cry out again. Then Brett’s finger slid back along his seam and teased the hole in his buttocks, and Freddy lost all semblance of control.

  “Please, Brett,” he cried out. “Please fuck me. God, I want you. Please. Don’t make me wait anymore. Please.”

  Brett hummed into his neck and pressed harder against that little rosette. Freddy squirmed, trying to make Brett pierce him with that finger. He needed some part of Brett inside him. Brett was panting as heavily as Freddy.

  “I want you, Freddy,” he groaned. “Don’t we need your oil? Like Anne? I want to fuck you like Anne.”

  “Then fuck me, damn it,” Freddy growled, grabbing the sides of Brett’s head and pulling his face up so he could look at him. Brett’s eyes were glazed and almost black, his pupils were so big. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen from their kisses. He was fucking gorgeous, and at long last he was Freddy’s. “Damn you,” Freddy whispered, “fuck me.”

  “Yes,” Brett groaned and his mouth slammed up into Freddy’s. His palm pressed against Freddy’s balls almost too hard. Freddy jerked back to get away, and Brett’s touch gentled, cupping them softly again, making Freddy groan. Brett pulled off Freddy’s mouth with one last hard suck of his lower lip. He pulled his hand from Freddy’s pants and rolled off the sofa. Freddy sat up, shaky, weak with arousal and Brett reached out a hand to him.

  “Come on,” Brett growled, “now. I want to fuck you now.” He grabbed Freddy’s hand and then they were stumbling toward the bedroom. It all seemed unreal to Freddy. He’d woken up this morning thinking his life was over and now here he was, about to get fucked, rather thoroughly he suspected, by Brett, and he had hopes that Anne was still a possibility in his future. He shut his brain to all other thoughts or possibilities, holding onto that feeling.

  “Get it,” Brett told him, flinging him into the bedroom. Brett started to undo his trousers, his hands rough and fumbling. Freddy could see Brett’s cock outlined in the tan leather, and his back passage clenched in anticipation. Quickly he went to the vanity and searched the top until he found the bottle of oil. He turned back to Brett and stopped in his tracks.

  Brett stood in the middle of the room, panting, his heavy chest rising and falling in his tight, dark green coat. His buckskins were open and pushed down slightly and his cock sprang out from the opening, sticking straight out at Freddy, thick and heavy. Freddy could see the tip was damp, and his mouth watered.

  “Get on the bed,” Brett ordered him, and Freddy obeyed before he even thought about it. He clambered up and kneeled there, suddenly unsure about what Brett wanted him to do. Brett walked over and his cock bobbed and waved with each step, making Freddy’s heart trip with excitement. That was going to be buried inside him. Soon. Fucking him. His hands trembled.

  Brett climbed up and kneeled in front of him. Freddy silently held out the bottle. Brett took it and Freddy saw a blush climb up his neck and stain his cheeks. Freddy smiled.

  “Just like Anne,” he told Brett softly as he reached out and removed the stopper. The scent of the oil reminded his body of the last time they’d used it, and his cock jerked as a trickle of moisture leaked out. He tossed the stopper on the bed and then turned around. He shoved his pants down to his knees and bent over, resting his forearms on the bed, his arse in the air facing Brett. He felt vulnerable, aroused, desperate, scared. This was it. This was when the reality of what they were doing was going to hit Brett. If he couldn’t do it, now was when he’d pull away.

  And then suddenly he felt Brett’s slick finger there, and he felt the cool drops of oil hit his skin as Brett pressed inside. His finger was thick and rough and felt so good Freddy bit his lip and clutched the bed cover in his fists. Brett fumbled next to him, and Freddy realized he was trying to put the stopper in the bottle. He reached back a shaky hand. “Let me hold it.” He cleared his throat. His voice was thick, his words garbled. “Let me,” he said again. Brett pressed it into his hand and then grabbed his naked hip and slid his finger all the way into Freddy, until Freddy could feel the press of his fist against the cheeks of his buttocks.

  Freddy whimpered again. He couldn’t believe how needy he sounded. He hadn’t made that sound with Simon. But Brett reduced him to incoherence as he fucked his finger in and out. Freddy felt his muscles relax and what had been a burning pleasure became a sweet, hot, enticing, aching desire. Brett pulled his finger back and Freddy felt a second finger lightly skimming his hole.

  “How many fingers, Freddy?” Brett whispered. “How many do you need before you can take me? I’m big. I mean, I’m wide. Can you do it?”

  Freddy hummed with pleasure and pressed back on Brett’s hand. “Three,” he mumbled. “Your fingers are big. I think,” he gasped as Brett pushed two fingers inside of him, “I think three will do it. Brett!” His cry was high and loud as Brett sank both fingers deep and hit that spot Simon had taught him about.

  “Christ, Freddy,” Brett whispered in confusion behind him. “What is it? What did I do? You liked it. I can tell you liked it.”

  Freddy laughed breathlessly and shuddered as Brett hit it again. “There’s a spot inside a man,” he explained, his voice thin and strained. “Stop, Brett, stop, I can’t speak, I can’t think.”

  Brett stopped, his fingers pressed deep. “Explain.”

  “It’s, I don’t know, a bump, it felt like a bump. And when you stroke it or…or touch it, Christ, it feels amazing. Never felt like this, though. Never.” He pushed back, wanting that feeling again.

  Brett laughed, and it was low and sensual and so masculine and smug Freddy thought he was going to climax right then just from the sound of it. “You want more. You want that again.” He fucked his fingers in, curving them, and hit the spot and Freddy cried out again, trembling. “Yes, yes,” Brett said quietly, almost to himself. “I feel it.” He stroked inside Freddy with the tip of his finger and Freddy groaned, unable to stop shaking.

  “Brett,” he said weakly. “Please.”

  Another finger pressed in and Freddy hissed with the burning fullness of it. Brett paused and rubbed his fingers gently, giving Freddy time to adjust. Freddy took several deep breaths and pushed back as Simon had taught him. Brett’s fingers slipped in all the way.

  Freddy felt a light touch on his hand. He released the bottle and felt more drops hit his buttocks, tickling as they ran down and coated his hole, filled with Brett’s fingers. Brett began to move his fingers, staying away from that special spot, and Freddy was glad. He was too close.

  “Freddy, are you ready?” Brett whispered, and his voice was a low, hungry growl. “Because I can’t wait much longer. I’ve got to get inside you. I want to fuck you so badly, Freddy.”

  “Now, Brett. Ready now.” Freddy couldn’t even string a complete sentence together.

  Brett pulled his fingers out. A few seconds later he leaned over Freddy’s back, his hands coming down next to Freddy’s arms on the bed, and Freddy felt his cock, slick with oil, nestled in his crack rubbing his hole. He moaned and thrust back. He’d never craved anyone like this. Not even Anne. He’d hardly had time to realize he wanted her before
she was his. But Brett, God, he’d waited so long.

  Behind him he felt Brett chuckle. “Do you want me that bad, Freddy?” he whispered, his lips dancing across Freddy’s nape. Freddy shivered. “Yes, I believe you do. I’m tired of playing the gentleman, Freddy, tired of waiting and denying myself. You’re mine. You’ve been mine since the moment I woke up in Dover and saw you crying next to the bed. No one else will ever fuck you like this, Freddy. No one else will ever love you like I do.”

  Freddy was shaking his head, his forehead rubbing on the bed cover. “No one, Brett,” he promised thickly.

  And then Brett was rising, holding his hips and pressing inside him. Freddy felt as if he was being ripped apart, but he welcomed the pain. He took a deep breath and pushed back and took all that Brett could give him.

  “Freddy,” Brett groaned, his fingers digging into Freddy’s hips as he bore relentlessly down, deeper and deeper, until Freddy felt Brett’s pubic hair on his cheeks and his balls resting against him. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Freddy was panting, his legs were trembling, and his hole was on fire. He was in heaven.

  “Move,” Freddy growled. “Fuck me. I want to be fucked.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Brett growled right back, and then he pulled back slowly and thrust inside again. Freddy rose up from his arms to his hands and spread his legs wider. Brett slid in deeper and they both groaned.

  “More,” Freddy demanded.

  Brett’s hands were sweaty on his hips, and the hair on his legs tickled the back of Freddy’s thighs. Every sensation was heightened. He could smell the musky scent he associated with men having sex. No other sex smelled like it. It was rich and divine and made his muscles clench tight on Brett inside him. Brett let loose a wordless gurgle and then pulled out and slammed into Freddy.