by Eli Easton
When they were inside, they stood and stared at each other for a long moment without touching.
“It’s pathetic how much I missed you,” Christie said.
“I know. It felt like my guts were ripped out.”
Christie took a deep breath as though David’s words had struck him hard. “This is crazy.”
David knew what he meant: It’s crazy how intense this is, how much we feel after such a short time.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t trade it.”
“Me neither.”
Their coats came flying off. They ended up on the couch, wrapped around each other, still fully clothed. It wasn’t about lust, not right away. There was a thirst that could only be sated by holding each other tight, and with kisses that were long, silent communications. I’m here now. Nothing’s changed. We’re okay.
But after a while, David’s hands worked themselves into the back of Christie’s jeans, and the bare curve of his ass was instantly arousing. Want you now. He kissed Christie harder, started to roll on top of him, but Christie pushed away. “Wait. There’s something I want to show you.”
He got up and brought over a black bag he’d carried with him off the train. He unzipped it and started bringing things out. There were a half-dozen takeaway containers and brown parcels. “This is from my all-time favorite deli in New York. I got one of their world-famous Reubens and an egg salad sandwich, all deconstructed so the bread didn’t get soggy. And I got some of their best salads too. I thought maybe we could have a picnic in bed.”
“That was very thoughtful.”
“Well, I figured since I couldn’t take you to New York, I’d bring New York to you.”
“You need to let me pay for all that.”
“No, this is my Christmas present to you,” Christie insisted. “Well, one of them, anyway.” He winked and took a bottle from the bag. “I also got us some champagne. I know you don’t normally drink, but maybe you could have a little since it’s New Year’s Eve?”
“I’ll try it.” Why not? It wasn’t like he was exactly full of moral principle these days.
“I also downloaded a couple of new movies to my laptop. So maybe we could crawl into bed, set up my laptop, and have dinner there. When it gets close to midnight, we can switch over to the countdown on TV.”
Christie looked so excited about it, excited to be with David doing something so simple when he could have been in Times Square tonight.
Love flared up inside David so intensely that he could barely contain himself from blurting out the words. Christie always planned fun things and took pride in giving David interesting experiences, not to mention pure comfort and joy. He treated David like he mattered, like he was a precious relationship Christie wanted to court and feed. No one had ever treated him that way before in his life. He could fall in love with Christie for his kindness and generosity alone, but the packaging was pretty sweet too.
“Can I help set things up?” David asked.
“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind taking a quick shower, if you want to take everything into the bedroom?”
“I’m on it.”
They watched the first movie while having their New York deli-style meal. Christie chose Taxi Driver because it was set in Manhattan. David had never seen it, of course. The violence was a little horrifying, but he loved the New York-ness of the characters and all the shots of the city.
They took a break after the film and cleared away the food. When they got back to the bedroom, David very pointedly stripped off his shirt and pants. He was wearing only a pair of Christie’s gray boxer briefs that got mixed up in David’s things and wound up going through his laundry. He tried them on at home first and didn’t think he looked too shabby in them for an old man.
Christie apparently felt the same way. He stared at David for a moment, then tugged off his own shirt and pj bottoms. They both climbed into bed and met in the middle, all cold sheets and warm intentions. They kissed deeply. Christie felt long and lean against David’s body. The brush of his nipples was electrifying.
David needed to do something special for Christie. He wanted to show him how much he appreciated that he’d come home early, how much he’d missed him, how grateful he was for Christie’s thoughtfulness in bringing him a taste of the city. How much I love him.
He rolled Christie onto his back and shoved the covers out of the way. He moved down his body with hot, sucking kisses. He savored the shower-fresh taste of Christie’s skin. Christie drew up his knees, gasping, as David nuzzled his belly. He was a little ticklish there. David parted those knees with a hand and slid between them. He kissed the inside of his thighs, the warm, humid crease of where legs met groin, and the smooth-wrinkled skin of his testicles. He loved that Christie shaved, was so soft and accessible to his tongue. He teased along Christie’s perineum and crack until Christie was squirming with pleasure. He all but dragged David’s head with both hands to where he wanted it. Smiling, David took Christie’s shaft in deep.
He loved having oral sex with Christie. It was pretty much his favorite thing, though fucking him was damned good too. Having Christie in his mouth still felt new and dirty, and could get him close to his own orgasm in short order. There was no getting away from the fact that Christie was a man when his thick cock was dragging over David’s tongue—years of fantasy made flesh.
David sucked enthusiastically, breaking every so often to lick Christie’s balls and nuzzle his shaft. It wasn’t long before Christie’s muscular thighs began to tremble and his hands grew restless in David’s hair. “God, that’s so good,” Christie gasped. “But I don’t want to come yet.”
“Mmmm.” David was reluctant to release the treasure in his mouth, but he did. He let Christie pull him up into a wet, probing kiss. He was so aroused by now that his skin was almost unbearably sensitive as it pressed along the length of Christie’s body.
David shivered and pulled back to speak. “I was wondering… how would you feel about being on top tonight?”
It was something they’d discussed. David had wanted to try it, but they hadn’t yet; it worked so well the other way around.
David was staring down into Christie’s face on the pillow as his blue eyes went a shade darker with desire. “Would you like that?” His tone was low and throaty, sexy. He ground his prick up into David’s stomach as if offering it for David’s use.
“Yes,” David managed to croak.
“Then baby, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
The words, lewd and sinful, sent all kinds of thrills chasing around David’s body. He suddenly felt weak and light-headed with desire. He allowed Christie to maneuver him onto his stomach on the bed. Christie grabbed some lube and a condom from the bedside table and spread David’s legs apart with his knees. He was a little rough, which was thrilling. Yeah, just like that.
David had never played with himself there; he’d never dared. And Christie had done only a little teasing with a fingertip and tongue so far. So it was rather startling when he swirled lube around David’s rim and then slowly sank one long finger inside.
David grabbed a pillow and bit into it.
“Okay?” Christie asked.
David nodded, not trusting his voice. It felt foreign and strange and kinky.
Christie didn’t hesitate. He stroked David inside, finding some sensitive spot that made butterflies erupt in his stomach and his prick ache like cold-numb fingers. David bit the pillow harder and couldn’t stop his hips from hiking upward. Being invaded was a weird sensation, not so pleasurable on the conscious side, but somehow his body reacted like Christie had lit a fuse.
The pressure in his ass increased: maybe more fingers. Christie rubbed in circles at something inside him. “How does that feel?”
Like my head’s going to blow off. The sensation was more tightening pressure than anything, drawing up his balls and making him feel a knife edge he didn’t entirely understand. It wasn’t exactly like a pending orgasm, but it felt similar. “Good,” he manag
ed.
Christie hummed contentedly and pulled out. As strange as being invaded had felt, being empty now felt all kinds of wrong.
“Christie….”
“Hold on. I’ve got you.”
Christie’s voice was rough, wrecked. A moment later he was back, one hand on David’s hip, soothing. “Lift up.”
It should have been an embarrassing position, but David was too far gone to care. He raised his hips up, going onto his knees and giving Christie access. There was the feeling of a blunt head at his entrance, and then Christie was pushing in.
David felt the condom and the lube. He felt his skin stretch and burn. But mostly he felt Christie, Christie’s prick, hard and warm and living, taking him as if David were an animal. Being fucked was one of his darkest fantasies, the deepest place he went to in his psyche when he’d pleasured himself alone in the barn, and only rarely even there. And it was happening in real life right now.
He cried out and buried his face in the pillow. His hands went back to grab Christie’s thighs, hanging on.
“Okay?” Christie asked again, the word sounding forced from his throat.
“Don’t stop,” David managed. “Do it hard.”
Christie grabbed David’s ribs. He pulled out and jabbed back in, as fast as the tightness of David’s body would allow, and again. There was the feeling of more drizzled lube, more push and pull, and soon he’d loosened enough to allow Christie to slam into him with force. He slid his large palms up to grab either side of David’s neck so he was crouched over David’s back. He held David in place with his hands as he jackknifed his hips in and out, over and over, hitting something deep inside.
It was nothing like David had thought it’d be, but then, he wasn’t really thinking anymore at all. He was being ruined, being burned to the ground as if by a foreign army, a stronger force. There was tension, a little pain, and a slow pleasure that insisted and demanded, growing and taking over his groin. He surrendered to it, cheek against the pillow, eyes rolled back in his head, used and taken. He didn’t have to worry about Amy or Joe or how Christie felt or the farm chores or any of it. He wasn’t even David Fisher anymore.
Christie slowed his hips, ground them in circles, and sped up again. His breathing grew raspier, faster, pained. “God, I’m close.”
David knew he should touch himself; that’s what Christie’s meant. But he couldn’t. His hands had somehow transferred to grasp the pillow, and he couldn’t move. So Christie took care of that too. He moved one hand to palm the back of David’s neck by itself, holding him down, and slid the other under his belly and grasped his erection. David was startled to feel how hard he was when Christie wrapped his hand around him. Whatever Christie was doing to that spot inside him, it triggered him in ways he’d never felt before.
The friction of Christie’s hand caused heat to bloom almost instantly. It blossomed like a flower of fire in his groin. Pleasure shot up his spine and down his legs, and he was coming, coming so hard. It was so powerful his mind blanked out.
When David was aware of himself again, he was on his side and Christie was next to him. He opened his eyes to stare into blue ones. Christie grinned. “You’re going to be so sore tomorrow. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t care,” David said. He’d been sore and hurt for far less appealing causes.
Christie’s grin faded. “God. That was—”
From the front of the house came the sound of someone banging on the door.
Chapter 20
Christie put on his sweatpants and went to get the door. David had a sinking feeling, but he held out hope until he heard the front door open and the caustic bite of a familiar voice.
“Where’s my father?” It was Joe. He called out louder. “Dad?”
He heard Christie mumble something like “He’s not here.”
But Joe’s voice got stronger, calling out. “Dad! I know you’re here. Your truck’s out front. Come out and talk to us!” Angry. Joe’s voice was so angry.
David felt sick. A heavy resignation stole over him like he’d been injected with icy novocaine. This so wasn’t the way he wanted it to happen, to be caught out like a naughty schoolboy. But the moment was here, and he wasn’t about to let Christie deal with it alone or try to lie for his sake.
David got out of bed. “Joe, I’ll be out in a minute.” He used his “do it now” voice. He picked up his jeans and tugged them on, one eye on the bedroom door. If that boy dared to come in here…. But Joe didn’t come into the bedroom. David buttoned up his shirt and tucked it in. His feet were bare, but there wasn’t much he could do about that with his shoes by the front door. So he went out into the living room to face the music.
Christie was standing in the middle of the room, arms folded across his bare chest and his face shuttered. His eyes found David’s. They were dark and troubled, apologetic. Joe and Amy stood near the open front door.
Amy looked bewildered and a little scared, her eyes big and round. But Joe—Joe knew exactly what he’d interrupted. He had his fists clenched, and there were angry tears in his eyes.
“I can’t believe this, Dad. How could you?”
“Joe, Amy—you two go on home. I’ll be there in a minute,” David said with a calm he didn’t feel.
Amy spoke up. “We decided to come home early so we could be together at midnight, but you weren’t there. Joe saw your truck over here. I don’t understand, Dad. What’s going on?”
“I said go on home now.”
Joe turned on Christie. “You did this! This is your fault. My dad is not a homo!”
Something clicked on Amy’s face, and her hand flew to her mouth. She looked between David and Christie with horror. David was starting to feel more pissed off than embarrassed. Christie shouldn’t have to deal with this.
“Joe, that’s enough out of you! You two turn around and walk back out that door. I will be back at the farm in five minutes, and we’ll discuss it. Go now.”
“Damn right!” Joe spat out, giving in to a rare curse word. “I don’t want to be in his house. It makes me feel dirty.”
“Joe, I said now!”
“Daddy.” Amy’s voice was pleading and there were tears in her eyes.
He softened his voice. “Go on, Am. I’ll be right there.”
“David, you don’t have to do this by yourself,” Christie insisted. He was ramrod straight, his face flushed red with anger. “This is my business too. You can discuss it here.”
“No, it isn’t your business!” Joe shouted. “You are not part of this family!”
David shut his eyes, feeling like he was getting it from all directions. Now Christie was mad too. Not that he didn’t have a right to be.
“Daddy?”
David opened his eyes and forced his voice to be level. “Christie, I need to discuss this with Amy and Joe alone first. Okay? I’ll call you later.”
Christie didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. His expression was still dark with worry and with defiance too. His eyes flashed daggers at Joe. God help them all if he ever left Christie and Joe alone in the same room.
This was a disaster.
Back at the farm, Amy and Joe were waiting for David by the door. They filed in the house without talking. Joe’s every body movement was one of suppressed frustration. He shut the back door too hard and all but flung himself into a chair at the kitchen table, texting on his damned phone. Amy looked hurt. Her face was pale and drawn. She sat in a chair at the kitchen table with Joe and stared into space.
Dear Lord, this is it. This is the moment I lose my kids forever.
This was what he’d feared and avoided his whole life. But now that it was here, he found he couldn’t regret what he’d done. Couldn’t regret Christie. Some of the heaviest chains that bound him all his life had fallen off, and he wouldn’t put them back on, no matter what the consequences were.
He put his coat on the back of his chair, went to the fridge and poured three glasses of apple juice, and carried t
hem over to the table, trying to present a calmer facade than was real. He prayed silently for wisdom and guidance in this conversation, but he had no confidence God was listening.
As soon as he sat down, Joe put his phone away and began. “How could you let that happen? Why? Why would you… I mean… a man, Dad. He’s a man!”
“Be quiet, Joe.”
“No, I don’t think so! Not this time!”
David felt a sour spike of anger. “Yes. Shut it. I have something to say, and I’d appreciate it if you’d be quiet enough to let me speak in my own dang house.”
“Please talk, Daddy.” Amy straightened her spine, and she looked at him with troubled eyes. “I want to hear what you have to say. Joe, just let Dad talk.”
Joe shook his head and slouched down in his chair, but he didn’t argue further. He didn’t look like he was in a receptive mood, but that was just too damn bad.
David looked down at his hands on the table. The words were so hard. So, so hard. It felt like vipers were crawling their way up his throat. “I guess… I guess I was born with an attraction to men. I’ve spent most of my life fighting it.”
“What?” Joe burst out. “That’s crap! This is all about that Christie guy. Just because he’s young and—”
“Joseph Fisher, I am talking!”
“Just be quiet, Joe. Daddy, go on.”
David silently gritted his teeth. “I tried to do the right thing. Your grandad was not an easy man. And the church said it was a sin.”
“It is a sin,” Joe put in.
David ignored him. “I did love your mother, in my way. We were young when we got married, you guys know that. I did the best I could for her.”
“If you’ve been doing so well all these years, why screw it up now?” Joe demanded.
David gave Joe a disbelieving look. “Because, Joe, I’m too young to sit around this farm waiting to die. And because….” He swallowed. “Because I’m in love with Christie Landon.”