by Cooper Davis
The neighbor husband catches my darting glance, and smiles nervously.
That’s when I get it.
Max is coming out to these people, and he intends to drag me out of the closet right along with him.
He’s seeing how I’ll handle this back in L.A.
“Hungry?” he pipes, dropping a plateful of cheeseburgers on the table right in front of me. He presses a loving hand into the small of my back, as he leans past me for the ketchup.
But I focus on the wife, as she walks up to the table. “Yeah, sure.” I nod vaguely. I’m somewhere else.
I stand awkwardly as Max makes me a plate, pampering me like I’m his boyfriend.
I am his boyfriend, I think with no small amount of panic, as he passes the plate into my hand.
“Thanks,” I mumble, feeling sullen and angry. I wander away from the group, and drop heavily into the sand. The ocean rolls in front of me, and I realize that I’m shaking almost as forcefully.
But Max has followed me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, settling beside me.
I don’t answer; fight the urge to grumble about the way he’s set me up with these people.
He smiles shyly at me. “You’re just scared, Hunter.” My heart lurches because he understands me so damn well. “Don’t be.”
He’s right. I should be myself, and tonight, myself is that I want to make love to him. Easy, effortless…I wish it were truly that way, as I stare into his lovely eyes.
Our moment is ruptured when the neighbors’ daughter trots into our view, giggling and innocent.
“Hey!” she shouts, presenting herself to Max. She stands tall like a soldier reporting for inspection. They’ve become fast friends this week.
Max grins, giving the hem of her dress a gentle tug as he asks, “A Lily?”
I have no clue what he’s even talking about, and apparently it’s some secret language, because she becomes bashful, as she looks down at her bright dress and whispers, “My mommy found it for me.” She points at a large appliqué on the front and explains, “It has a palm tree.”
“Well your mommy has great taste,” Max agrees, and I wonder what it is I’m not privy to.
His compliment sends her darting away, back toward the picnic table, where her parents sit, hovering over the delicious burgers.
So Max and I are alone again, and there’s only the rush of wind between us.
He lifts his baseball cap, giving his hair a little toss as he squints into the setting sun.
“Don’t be scared,” he says, then hesitates a moment. “You know…about later.” His jaw tightens as he stares at the waves and he slips a palm onto my thigh for everyone to see.
I stiffen, and want to shove him away.
But I don’t. I stare at his golden hand like an invader, and think of how it rubs and loves and caresses me. That hand has stroked me into oblivion dozens of times.
I love this hand same as I love him; so I don’t push it away.
The wife wanders toward us, dropping onto the hard, wet sand. We form a little triangle, as she tucks her feet beneath her.
“You have a real way with kids,” she laughs with Max. “She’s so proud of that dress.”
I have to suppress a wild snort of laughter behind my hand, as his thigh falls against mine. Max would make the ideal wife, I think with a sly grin. He cooks like a mojo. He’s great with kids. And I know he’s going to be killer in bed.
Too bad he’s the wrong gender.
But I’ve realized this summer that love simply doesn’t bother with those kinds of distinctions. It falls over you like a mystery, and once it does, you’re gone for life. I’m with Max because I can’t be anywhere else. I was lost to him months ago, and we’ve been dancing this strange, uncomfortable dance ever since. Finding our rhythm in secret.
Our neighbor beams about her daughter’s dress—amazed that he knew it was a Lily Pulitzer, and as he credits Louisa for his fashion sense, I still wonder what the hell they’re even talking about. Next thing I know, they’re chattering away about vintage clothes shops in West Hollywood, and I’m only aware of Max’s palm resting on my thigh.
Isn’t she? I think, shifting a bit. But they keep talking until finally I relax. As easy as that.
His palm no longer scalds my thigh, and I no longer worry what these strangers think.
He’s mine and I’m damn proud of it. I even scoot a little closer, wondering if he notices.
I wonder until he strokes my leg with deliberate slowness, a lovers’ gesture, and tosses me a flirty grin as he does it.
Our neighbor doesn’t even blink. I’m getting a hard-on because of his little streak of exhibitionism, and she couldn’t care less.
Why didn’t I figure this out months ago?
***
We’re shrouded by darkness, standing there on the balcony, and Max steps behind me, slipping his arms low around my waist. On instinct, I survey the communal pool below, wanting to be sure we’re completely alone.
I feel him stiffen behind me, as he gives a heavy little sigh. It’s a melancholy sound, and I instantly regret my caution.
“Max, look—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“I thought you were okay with this.” He leans his cheek against my shoulder, refusing to let me go.
And I don’t want him to, even when I hear our neighbors laughing on the balcony next door.
“I’m more than okay,” I breathe into the darkness. “I’m really happy, Max.”
I feel him nod, then he says, “I guess old habits die hard.”
“It’s going to take me some time,” I explain. “To, you know, be so open about this.”
“This.” I hear a little attitude in the way he says the word, and know his temper is flaring.
“To be so open about you,” I clarify gently. “About how I feel…about you.”
I swear I feel him smile, as he folds those strong arms around my chest, embracing me with pure adoration. He still rests his cheek against my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to my nape.
We’re out. All the way. The neighbors can see us, if they only look and for once, I don’t give a shit.
“Max,” I murmur, but then I don’t know what comes next. I’ve never been here before. I catch the faint aroma of his cologne mixed with suntan lotion, and I want to lick every inch of his body.
“Max,” I begin again, pivoting slowly in his arms, until we stand hip to hip. Until I’m staring down into those sultry eyes and my heart begins hammering frantically.
Say it, Willis. Say the damn words.
They burn within my mouth, against my tongue.
Finally, like some schoolboy with a crush, I stammer at him, “I-I love you.” And then I stare at my feet, feeling hopelessly shy. “Maxwell.” I add his name as a sort of afterthought, and he laughs gently.
But he’s infinitely pleased, I realize when I glance upward again and he lifts a tender hand to my cheek.
“I love you, too,” he breathes, his hand lingering against my face. I burn beneath his soft caress.
How can he be such a guy, yet be this gentle with me? I’ve puzzled over that question hundreds of times.
He cups my face within his palms, and pulls my mouth downward for a searing kiss. Our lips part and I suddenly think that we’re doing this in public.
And I think how badly I want to make love to him.
Especially when I feel his stiff erection press against my own tightening groin. It’s insistent, and I harden painfully when he begins rocking his hips subtly against mine.
But then the rocking intensifies, and I suck in a sharp breath, glancing over his shoulder at the neighbors’ house.
“Baby,” I murmur against his cheek. “I’m out, but not this much.”
He bursts into a joyous roll of laughter, and steps away from me, nearly floating through the French doors that lead to our bedroom. A coy, inviting glance over his shoulder tells me what comes next, and I nearly sprint after him.
***
I’m sliding between his legs, slippery and ready, but I can’t quite work up my nerve. Max is flushed and breathless beneath me, and he gazes up at me in total surrender. Carefully, I draw his legs around me, and in the near darkness, I see him swallow hard.
He’s frightened. I feel it, and I can hardly blame him. My unstoppable need for him is coupled with my own raw terror, as I slowly push into his opening. He gasps tightly, hazel cat-eyes growing wide at our intimate contact.
“You okay?” I ask nervously, brushing his hair off his forehead. He smiles, nodding as I kiss him, but I see how he winces as I work my way in.
God, we’re joined. Becoming lovers, I think, as his chest heaves with desperate gulps of air.
And then there’s this incredible silence as we both grow perfectly still. A hush falls over us, as our gazes lock and he quivers slightly beneath me. I tremble as I realize that I’m completely inside of him.
With incredible gentleness, I make a first little thrust. Those hazel eyes narrow and darken as he cries out my name.
I still inside of him again, uncertain. Shaking. Desperate. Beyond hungry to take this man completely, to burn my very essence into his being. I twist the sheet within my hand, trying to still my reaction to him, to go slow like he needs. He’s a virgin, I remind myself. Gotta slow down, you bastard.
The hard ridge of his cock juts into my abdomen, and I feel it twitch against my sweat-slicked skin. I ache to stroke him, to somehow wedge my fingers between our tightly joined hips, but I can barely keep from slamming into him—to hold myself on a tight rein of control. And yet there’s such a hush over us; I know my shaking isn’t only about my physical need.
I’ve never known another moment this sweet, and I press a slow burn of a kiss against his lips. He kneads my shoulders with his fists, murmuring my name like a prayer, and works his hips upward…inviting me. Urging me to start a rhythm inside him.
I thrust again, and he twines his fingers through my longish hair. Our lips crush together, and then nothing can stop me, as I sheath myself within him.
He arches against me, bucking his hips the best he can. I gasp and cry, but I can’t stop kissing him, can’t stop moving, and I swear it feels like he might swallow me whole.
I moan his name, loudly, and the harsh bark he makes in return causes my cock to pulse and throb inside him. He’s so tight, so perfect.
Over and over I touch his body. I stroke his scratchy cheek, his hard chest. I need to feel everything, the maleness of him. That he’s muscled and thick and hard in all the right places—I’m gonna lose it over that fact before we barely get started.
I can’t let go of him, but I can’t hold on much longer either.
The thrusts intensify as our hips rock together in a frantic motion.
I’m falling so deep that it scares the shit out of me, but I push the thought aside, because I’m lost. That I’m inside him like this blows my mind, and I pump a little harder at the thought. The strong hands grasp at my shoulders, cling to the small of my back. He’s touching me everywhere, like I’m touching him.
God, how we’ve waited for this, how we’ve both wanted it. If I’d known, I never could have waited.
“Maxie,” I moan softly against his ear. Sweet, sweet, Maxwell. I’m helpless, and I don’t care that he knows it as I brush heated kisses against his forehead.
Max clutches at me hungrily, and the hazel eyes grow intense, never leaving my face as he gasps. Suddenly there’s an amazing explosion of warmth between our two bodies as he shudders and bucks within my arms.
I bury my face against his neck, working my hips furiously until I’m totally done.
For a long moment, we lay that way, breathless, still aching for one another. I feel his fingers twining through my damp hair. I hear a sudden whimpering and am shocked to realize it comes from me.
He strokes my shoulder, soothing me as he sucks in ragged breaths beneath me. My face stays buried against his shoulder for a long while, because I’m afraid if I look at him, I might lose it completely.
I’m shattered.
I’m utterly shattered that I’ve fallen this deep, all in such a brief moment of time.
Chapter Three
Max has wedged himself flush against me. He sleeps on his stomach, hands thrust beneath the feather pillows, exuding loads of warmth. It’s a nice contrast to the frigid air conditioning that’s left me shivering beneath the sheets. Besides, I love sleeping with him beside me, hearing him breathe and snore and sigh.
What a lazy place this beach house is, and I’m not sure I ever want to leave.
I watch him in the near-darkness, feeling my groin stir at the sight of his sleek, muscled back. He’s sculpted to sheer perfection; I can even see it through the inky darkness of our bedroom.
Moonlight wafts through the long windows, falls across our bed, and Max has never looked this beautiful before. That’s what I think as I reach a hesitant hand to his hair, and lightly stroke my fingers through the dark curls along his nape. Even now, in his sleep, he looks scruffy and sexy and tantalizing. My erection hardens completely as I nuzzle my mouth against his ear. He smells of the beach, fresh air and salty brine, a bittersweet scent that only makes me want him even more.
Melancholy thoughts keep storming through my head, and I have to fight the regrets. I think how we could have woken like this all summer, that we could have become lovers in California.
I shift beside him, needing him to wake. He stirs a bit, long lashes fluttering as I move to kiss his cheek.
Neither of us speaks, and I shower him with kisses until he laughs sleepily. “Hello to you, too.”
“I want you,” I growl in reply. I’m not going to mess around about this.
The lovely eyes widen in surprise for a moment, as he nods, “I want you, too.” He’s breathless already.
As I slide on top, pinning him against the mattress, he trembles slightly with pleasure. I trail more blazing kisses down the notches of his backbone.
But I know where I’m headed, to the most delicious spot on Maxwell’s body. I shift above him, dragging my mouth to the small of his back. I hear moans as I nip and lick him there. After a heavenly moment, I dip my tongue even lower.
His legs part, and he fists the covers with a helpless cry.
The sound is enough to nearly shove me right over the precipice, so I move back atop him, cradling my hips together with his.
We begin a furious rocking motion, already at fever pitch. Hell, we’re getting started, but we’re already nearing peak intensity.
My hands cover his where they clutch at the mattress, and he devours my mouth over his shoulder.
I need to get inside him all over again. I need him so badly that I swear my cock strains as it pushes against his opening. Neither of us is prepared, yet I can’t stop working at it this way.
Nothing is better than being inside him. I know it now, and so everything has changed. I’m not running away anymore, I’m running toward him.
Max flails a bit beneath me, groping for the tube I spy laying beyond his grasp.
“Hunter, I can’t…” he explains huskily, reaching awkwardly to grab it.
“Here,” I gasp, scrambling off him, and laying hold of the lubricant. Straddling him, I swiftly begin preparing us both. He squirms as I work the cool liquid into his opening, moving his hips. I’m thorough because I don’t want him to hurt this time; he needs to be ready to take me.
I’m ready right now, I think with another urgent growl, and I drape my body over his.
His legs part to me, and I slide right up against his opening. I’m slippery smooth, yet for a moment I worry that I might lose it before we ever get started. Especially when he shimmies his hips upward, lifting beneath me in undeniable invitation. He’s frantic with his little lifts, and something about that unravels me.
“You’re gorgeous,” I moan in his ear, pushing hard, and I feel how he thrills at our intimacy. He cries my name quietly, murmuring it into the pillows, but
something isn’t quite working between us. Only my tip makes it in, and for a long moment, we struggle a bit awkwardly together.
Max tenses beneath me, working to open his legs more, and I lift up. But we’ve stalled out, barely joined.
For a moment, I kiss Max’s shoulders, slipping a palm beneath his stomach to hold him.
While I ease out, I stroke his back lovingly, wanting to end the embarrassment that I feel mounting between us.
“Max, it’s okay,” I reassure him, lifting off. He glances at me over his shoulder, and something about the shy, innocent expression on his face makes me blush. I move between his thighs, kneeling there, and whisper, “Try and relax, baby.”
And then with infinite gentleness, I draw him right onto my lap. We’re both trying to find our way through this thing, and everything’s so brand new. I don’t want him to feel awkward. “Like this,” I encourage softly, urging him against me. I cradle him that way, tight within my arms.
“Yeah, this is…good,” he agrees.
His chest is whisper smooth beneath my palms, as I rub it gently. Max drags in urgent draughts of air, and I know he’s frightened again. “I’ve got you,” I whisper in his ear. He nods, and reaches over his shoulder to touch my face.
“I love you,” he says, his voice husky and wild.
For a long moment, he hovers over me, not moving, not lowering, and so I coax him down as I push upward again. We slide right together, and while it takes a moment, and I hear him groan softly, I think it’s easier this time.
For a moment, he stays poised that way, right in my lap, and neither of us utters a word. Like before, there’s only silence, and the sound of our heavy breathing.
There’s only Max and me, joined as lovers like pure perfection. I’m pushed tight inside him, and he’s not moving, but I can’t stop shaking with desire. Finally, he makes a small, uncertain movement, and I match it by cupping his hips within my large palms, and teasing him into a little thrusting motion.
An unimaginable cry escapes his lips as he arches back against me. “Never…never before,” he moans. He’s really damn loud, but I couldn’t care less. Those neighbors are far enough away that they won’t hear anyway.