by A. F. Henley
"You're freezing," Ian said, stepping away to grab the umbrella before he secured Justin's hand and tugged Justin along. "Let's get in the car."
*~*~*
Spit was not enough assistance to the games they played, but they played them anyway: moving slowly, cautiously; drawing heated breath through dry lips, whispering words of praise and huffing pleas.
The block had been quiet, the small retail shops shut down for the night and the cars that had once sat alongside the curb with Ian's, long gone. Only the street lights watched, their faces turned down to try and peek through steamed windows at the bodies moving inside the vehicle; glowing their approval at the two men finding comfort in one another's touch.
Justin squirmed spine against leather, wet skin protesting movement with mouse-like squeals, and Ian gave silent kudos to the powers-that-be that granted flexibility to young men. He ignored the seatbelt buckle that kept trying to bite his left knee and let his right knee fall to the limited floor space the back seat of his Audi offered so he could tug Justin closer. When Justin's pants became a grunt, Ian paused. "I can stop."
The leg around Ian's waist tightened, the fingertips in his shoulder crooked, "Don't you dare."
It came out like a prayer, not a demand. Ian leaned forward, tasted chest and nipples, collar bone and neck, sliding his body slower than he'd believed he could manage. The effect was mind-blowing though. A slow build that by the time peak became a mere suggestion, every nerve in both bodies were singing. Justin's cock leaked between them, strands of clear fluid clinging from flushed tip to straining stomach muscles in a way that made Ian's mouth water and his vision fog. Positioning and space told Ian he had no choice but to support his weight with both arms, but the need to touch was overwhelming. "Touch yourself, Justin," Ian urged. "Let me watch you touch your cock."
Justin shook his head, gasping. "I can't. I'll cum."
Ian groaned, latched nipple again to drag his teeth over the responsive skin, reveling in the way that Justin's hips moved in time with the pull, before releasing it to say, "Good. Cum then."
Watching Justin reach down and begin stroking his own body was one of the most reverent moments of Ian's life. Justin was there. With him. Finally and again. It seemed impossible and yet so fucking right, so damn perfect, that it was almost ridiculous that Ian had doubted it would happen. Justin began to whimper his name, thighs and calves flexing against Ian's sides and back, body holding Ian's cock snugly, and Ian lifted his head to watch Justin's face. Closed eyes, parted lips, pink hue on perfect skin—a single sharp breath—and as everything else tightened, Justin's face softened. Heat shot over Ian's chest. He swallowed his own cry as the same effect rushed through him and pumped what felt like oceans of physical bliss into Justin's body.
"Breath," Ian thought, "breath would be nice." Yet as hard as his heart hammered in his chest, Ian was pretty sure it was a good rush. It felt good. Damn good.
"Holy shit, ouch," Justin hissed as Ian pulled away carefully.
"You okay?"
Justin nodded, eyes still closed and Ian scooted back to strip off and tie the condom, then slid up on the seat between Justin's legs. "Hand up?" Ian asked, grinning down at Justin's trembling eyelids.
"Not yet, no. Maybe never." Justin chuckled. "You'll just have to leave me like this."
Ian's smile grew. "Hmm, well then. Does your father own any firearms?"
Justin peeked from one eye. "Firearms?"
"Well," Ian drawled. "I saw the way he looked at me at the school. And I heard what he said. So I'm trying to envision what will be going through his head when I carry you into the house, half-asleep, naked and unable to walk?"
"Ugh," Justin winced. "That could get nasty. Maybe I should get dressed." He opened his eyes, smiled up at Ian and everything inside Ian warmed. "Maybe I can come home with you instead?"
"Yes," Ian replied without hesitation. He snagged his jacket from the front seat, pulled out his handkerchief from the inside pocket and reached to swipe at the smears of fluid that marked Justin's belly. "That being said—"
Justin grinned and grabbed for the scrap of cloth. "I can do that myself, moron."
"I'm not a moron, you moron," Ian said back, but relented and let Justin take the handkerchief. "And as I was saying; that being said I don't want to get you in trouble with your parents or anything—"
"Ian!" Justin tossed the used cloth at Ian and frowned. "I'm not a fucking teenager! And I don't need to point out that I've been on my own for the last four years!"
Ian chuckled at the response. "Neither the throwing of cum-soaked fabric nor the dramatic outburst is helping prove your point, love. But seriously, I'm just saying. I don't want to mess anything up or step on boundaries they might have put in place when you came back. If they're expecting you …"
He lifted his gaze with a shrug and tilted his head at Justin's smug grin. "What?"
"I already told my mom back at the school that if things went well, I might not be home tonight."
Ian mock-gasped. "So that was your evil plan all along? To seduce me?" He smacked the side of Justin's ass. "Brat!"
Justin winced. "That is not a good plan if you're hoping to get any more of that tonight."
Ian laughed out loud. "I'm not a total jerk, Justin. I'd have no such expectations." He tugged Justin closer and met his lips with a light kiss. "Though I'd be happy to return the favor if you're interested."
Justin wrapped his hand around Ian's neck and didn't let him pull away. "Hell, yes," Justin replied breathlessly, as if the thought had knocked the air out of his lungs. "I think I'd like that a lot."
"Lucky me," Ian said, dropping another kiss on Justin's mouth.
Justin sank into the kiss though, driving his tongue into Ian's mouth, not releasing the back of Ian's head until they were both panting for breath. "I thought it was universal intervention?" Justin said finally. "What's with this luck shit all of the sudden?"
"True enough," Ian agreed.
Justin rested his forehead against Ian's and pulled a long, tired sigh. "Well, who are we to argue with the universe, right?"
"I know," Ian nodded. "Imagine the repercussions? Potentially catastrophic disasters! Violence and destruction! Mountains tumbling into oceans and—"
"True love," Justin finished.
"Yeah," Ian wrapped himself around Justin's torso and squeezed. "That's the best one."
About the Author
Henley was born with a full-blown passion for run-on sentences, a zealous indulgence in all words descriptive, and the endearing tendency to overuse punctuation. Since the early years Henley has been an enthusiastic writer, from the first few I-love-my-dog stories to the current leap into erotica. Henley shares a home in rural Southern Ontario with both life partner and a plethora of furry, scaled and winged rescue friends.
A self-professed Google genius, Henley lives for the hours spent digging through the Internet for ‘research purposes’ which, more often than not, lead seven thousand miles away from first intentions but bring Henley to new discoveries and ideas that, once seeded, tend to flourish.
Henley has been proudly working with LT3 since 2012, when Înflori made its debut, and is thrilled to add two more novel titles, Honour and Sonata, as well as two anthology stories, Rockaybe and MEMWARS! to the docket for 2013.
Comments, kudos and signature card requests are happily received at afhenley.com.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Details
Dedication
Prelude
Da Capo
Fermata
Cadenza
Retrograde
Segno
Rubato
Fine
Segue
Interval
Encore
About the Author
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