All Cocks Stories Box Set Volume 2

by Smith,T. M.

  Micah sat up and grabbed a cup of coffee, growling as he took a sip. “Is he always happy?”

  Gabe snorted. “No, not hardly. Mattie has his own demons to deal with, but he made a choice a long time ago not to let those demons control his life. You could learn a lot from him, maybe.”

  “What—” Gabe cut Micah off with a furious shake of his head.

  “No. Don’t even ask me — it’s not my place; you’ll have to ask Mattie.” Gabe stood and headed toward the door. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen; I have to shower. I can smell myself.” And with that, Gabe disappeared out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  Micah grabbed a biscuit and tore a bite off, still a little miffed, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. “Wow, that is fucking delicious.” He quickly finished his biscuit, and another as well as his coffee before heading into his bathroom to shower. Hands braced against the wall, head down, Micah let himself enjoy the gentle massage the water beading down his back produced. It brought back another memory, a rare moment of happiness during his deployment in Iraq.

  Micah quickly undressed, dropping his uniform on the floor next to his locker, then wrapping a towel around his waist and heading to the last shower stall in the makeshift lavatory. Every muscle in his body ached and he was fatigued, but the hot needles peppering his back felt absolutely amazing. He almost jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands gripped his hips. Momentary shock quickly faded when a pair of lips kissed his shoulder, a wet tongue travelled up the line of Micah’s neck, and a sultry voice whispered in his ear. “Easy now, soldier.”

  Micah couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Nor could he help his body’s reaction to push his ass back against the hard cock that rested against his left cheek. The hands that gripped his hips slowly moved forward, one creeping down toward his now semi-hard dick, the other climbing up to tweak his nipple between familiar fingers.

  Micah leaned back, resting his head on Banks’s shoulder, sighing. “That’s it baby, let me take care of you,” Banks whispered into his ear before biting down on the lobe, causing Micah to shiver in his arms. “You like that, baby?” Banks asked. Micah grunted and thrust his hips forward, driving his now rock-hard dick into the tight grip of Banks’s hand.

  Micah jerked forward when his brain caught up with what was happening, trying to turn and push Banks off him. “Stop, B, someone will see us, or hear us.”

  “Shhh, Micah. I paid Homer to stand at the entrance of the tent and call out if anyone’s coming in.” Homer was a nickname they’d given one of guys that loved the show “The Simpsons”. He would watch it on his laptop anytime they had Wi-Fi, and he always walked around saying “D’oh” just like Homer in the show. He also happened to be gay, so he was trustworthy.

  Micah relaxed again and continued to gently rock his hips into Banks’s tight grip. He wasn’t Micah’s type really, but he was fun and friendly and they’d hit it off the first week of their deployment in Iraq. After shared guard duties and the revealing of secrets the two soon realized they were both gay. A mutual agreement was reached where they would help each other out, for lack of a better term. Banks was a total top though, and while Micah was versatile and missed the feeling of fucking another man, being fucked and sucked and touched by Banks was better than complaining about not being able to return the favor.

  Micah’s random thoughts quickly evaporated when he felt the tip of Banks’s finger penetrate his hole. He played with Micah for a few moments, before pulling out and inserting two fingers, then three. “You ready for me, Micah?” Banks asked.

  Micah nodded, feeling the wonderful stretch and burn as Banks pushed past that first barrier, that tight ring of muscle at the rim of Micah’s ass. “So tight Micah, so good,” Banks whispered, driving in and pulling out at a steady pace. He ran his hand down Micah’s thigh, grabbing his leg and lifting it up to allow deeper penetration.

  “Fuck!” Micah shouted into the steamy bathroom, slamming his fist into the hard tiles of the shower. He had just begun to enjoy the memory, had just wrapped his fingers around his stiff prick, when the memory of Banks tenderly grabbing his left leg and lifting it up so he could spread Micah open and fuck him through the wall crashed into him. Micah closed his eyes, head resting on the now-cool tiles — the water was running cold. When he opened his eyes it was the first thing he saw, it was always the main focal point for him: his left leg. Or his half-leg if he were being honest.

  He had remembered, dreamed and fantasized about that day in the shower stalls a hundred times or more since he left that fucking desert. But he was never able to get past the point where Banks grabbed his leg in the memory, his thoughts immediately veering left, to the day of the bombing. Every. Damn. Time. Micah closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths, grounding himself in the moment. “You aren’t in Iraq.” He spoke the words softly, trying to convince his body that the onslaught of memories was just that, memories. This was where it always got weird for Micah, the part of his subconscious where he had difficulty distinguishing what was reality, and what was a memory.

  A soft knock on the bathroom door made Micah tense, but he managed not to freak out and let his mind trick him into thinking it was danger right off the bat.

  “I’m heading downstairs, meet you there.” Gabe’s voice reached him and Micah relaxed, sighing with frustration at his reactions to certain sounds.

  “Okay, maybe I really do need to talk to Tristan,” Micah said out loud, though he was the only person in the room. Well, unless you counted the soul-twisting memories of Iraq and Banks.

  Chapter 2 | One Step Forward

  The noise coming from the kitchen penetrated Micah’s senses before he was halfway down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Micah stood, watching the chaos that was considered normal in the house. Victor sat at the kitchen table deep in conversation with Chris, both men tenderly holding their cups of coffee in their large hands. Andrew and Mattie were washing dishes — Micah smiled as he watched them. Andrew kept tickling Mattie who would retaliate by flinging suds in Andrew’s face. Gabe, Linc and Kory sat at the table talking and laughing, about what, Micah didn’t know.

  It was all… too much. Micah spun around and flung his body against the wall where he was out of anyone’s sight if they were to turn and look toward the stairs. He stood there, taking deep, calming breaths and trying to decipher what it was about all the normality in the kitchen that set him on edge.

  “Micah, you okay?” Tristan’s deep baritone broke through the fog that had settled over Micah and he opened his eyes, slowly focusing on the handsome man that stood just inches away, watching Micah like he was a bomb ready to blow. Micah was caught up in Tristan’s beautiful blue eyes, unable to speak. The last time Micah had seen him, his black hair was longer. Today it reminded Micah of the high and tight cuts that were required when he was in the Army, but Tristan wore it better than anyone else Micah could remember. Tristan was tall enough that if he were standing close, Micah would have to lift his head to look up at him, to see into those eyes of his that promised warmth, understanding and safety.

  He and Gabe had both grown to trust Tristan over the last few months. The man had blown into their lives one day out by the pool, and had just stuck. These days, it was perfectly normal for Micah to walk downstairs and find Tristan sitting at the table drinking coffee, or in the den playing some stupid game with Mattie. He blended into their odd family dynamic and no one bothered to question whether or not he belonged, he just… did.

  “Micah?” Tristan spoke again. Micah shook his head, attempting to wrangle his wandering thoughts.

  Micah flinched as Tristan’s hand moved toward him, but exhaled, relaxing when Tristan gently gripped his shoulder. Tristan had these large hands with long fingers that made Micah both nervous and curious, all at the same time.

  “I, ah… fine!” Micah cringed at the high pitch of his voice. Tristan just smiled. “Could you… could you give me a minute?” Micah asked.

>   “Take your time,” Tristan whispered, moving into the kitchen and leaving Micah in the relatively quiet, dark hallway.

  Micah waited until his breathing evened out and his heart rate went back to normal. As if he weren’t already having a hard enough day with the nightmare, the memories in the shower and then coming downstairs and seeing everyone, laughing and joking, completely oblivious to his almost-breakdown. Jesus, get a grip, Micah! he thought, running a shaky hand through his hair. He was frustrated over the confusion of his feelings. He knew he wanted Gabe, had since the first day they met, though back then Gabe was with Gio. But there was something about Tristan that pulled the same reaction from Micah, and he didn’t know what to do with the feelings, how to act on them, or if he even should.

  Gabe spoke as soon as Tristan entered the kitchen. “Where’s Micah?”

  “He’ll be along shortly.” Tristan answered Gabe’s question.

  With that, Micah sucked in a deep breath and rounded the corner, walking into the kitchen on unsteady legs. “Morning everyone, what’s for breakfast?” He tried to sound as chipper as possible, and everyone bought it, everyone but Tristan.

  “There you are! I am thinking, we have to throw you on ice to get you up.” Victor spoke in his beautifully broken English that made just about everyone adore the man.

  “I think he meant throw ice on you,” Andrew said, smiling and tossing a wet dishrag at Victor.

  Everyone laughed, then went back to their individual conversations. Micah pulled out the chair next to Chris and sat, filling a cup with coffee and grabbing a banana. In the middle of the table was a stack of papers and Micah grabbed one, glancing over it as he ate and drank his coffee. It listed the schedule for the rest of the month and Micah saw he had three scenes to shoot. Today he was shooting a scene with Chris, Linc’s boyfriend. The two of them made Micah nervous. They only topped on film, so one couldn’t help but wonder how that schematic worked out behind closed doors. And though they had shot scenes together several times, even a few threesome videos, neither was present for the other shooting a scene, unless they were both in that scene.

  He had a scene the following week with William, which he was happy about. Will was a total bottom so Micah would top for that one. Then there was a scene at the end of the month with Dusty. That would probably be a flip-fuck, since Dusty and Micah were both versatile. Victor clapped his hands together and stood; Micah flinched. “Are we being ready?” Victor asked as he headed out of the kitchen.

  “Well, that was a rhetorical question if I ever heard one,” Chris said, placing a hand on Micah’s shoulder. “Ready?”

  Micah smiled and stood. He was so very ready for someone to touch him; even if it was all for the camera, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Micah had always craved human contact, even when he was a child. But since he came out, got kicked out and joined the Army, it was a rare occurrence. Now with his stump and scars that lay carefully concealed under the massive amount of ink that colored his skin. No one wanted the guy that was missing a limb. Granted, this was going to be a scene for the site, and Chris might not have those feelings for him, but Micah was about to enjoy the hell out of someone giving him their full attention for the next few hours.

  Chris grabbed Micah by the elbow and pulled him over to the corner of the room while Andrew and Rick, the second cameraman for the shoot, started getting their equipment positioned and set up.

  “Is there anything you don’t like or don’t want to do during the scene? Or maybe, something you would like to do to me — or me to you?” Micah stared up at Chris, slightly dumbfounded. He had only shot a few scenes to date, and while every model he’d worked with was decent and respectable, never demeaning Micah for his lack of appendage, no one had ever specifically asked him what he did or didn’t want.

  “I…well… uhhh, I don’t even really know how to answer that.” Micah always preferred the honest approach.

  Chris smiled and nodded. “Okay, we’ll wing it then. I assume you aren’t going to wear the prosthetic?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay. Is it safe to also assume you want the focus on any other body part but your” — Chris motioned to Micah’s left leg, the blade leg still attached — “I’m not sure what I should say right now.”

  Micah laughed, reaching up and patting the bigger man on the shoulder. “It’s okay Chris, you can call it what it is as long as there is no malice in your tone; it’s a stump.”

  The look on Chris’s face almost made Micah laugh out loud: he looked like he had just bitten into a persimmon. “Yeah, but no, that doesn’t sound right at all,” Chris said, shaking his head.

  “Guys, we’re ready for some preliminary shots. Can I get you two on the bed so we can make sure the lighting is good?” Andrew called out.

  Chris placed his hand in the middle of Micah’s back, “We’ll figure it out,” he said, gently pushing Micah toward the lavish four poster bed.

  From then on, Micah was on auto pilot. Do this, do that, leg there, arm here — instructions he had grown used to following quickly over the past several months he’d been living and working with All Cocks INC. This particular shoot was different, though. Chris was definitely the one in charge, no doubt about that. But he was also attentive, kind and gentle. It was just what Micah needed right then, to be wanted by someone, even if it was a damn lie. He knew the attention Chris was giving him would be gone as soon as the camera stopped rolling, but right then, he selfishly soaked up every facet of tenderness Kris Alen threw at Aiden Cox.

  Micah lay on his back, breathless and sated, staring up at the ceiling fan with a smug grin on his face. The shoot was everything he had wanted and so much more. Chris’s experience and professionalism were on full display, along with a few other quite large attributes, throughout the day while they were filming. Micah literally had to do nothing but lay back and enjoy the ride. Of course there were the mandatory blow jobs, rimming and absolutely filthy bedroom talk exchanged, but Chris made sure that Micah’s missing leg was rarely shown by covering Micah with his body or the plain white sheets they were tangled in.

  He took Micah from behind when they started, making sure that Andrew and Rick were focusing on the right side of the bed and anything from that angle. When he rolled Micah over, he waved Andrew and Rick over to the other side of the bed while covering his stump with the sheet. Micah was certain that the finished video uploaded to the site would never show his disability, and the sentiment of what Chris had given him that day almost brought him to tears.

  “I think that’s a wrap, guys. I’ll go through all this over the next couple of days and let you both know when the final video is ready so we can review it and get your approval,” Andrew told them as he dismantled the three standing tri-pods that surrounded the bed.

  Chris stood and dressed, but Micah was still feeling the effects of the orgasm he’d just had, so when Chris offered him a hand, Micah waved him off. Chris just laughed. “All right then, I’m going to go shower and then I’ll see you downstairs.”

  ***

  Gabe sat on the small couch in the family room with Tristan across from him in Victor’s large black leather recliner. He took a few minutes to really look at Tristan while his attention was on the folder and stack of papers in his lap. Black hair, blue eyes and an ever present five o’clock shadow were the frame for Tristan’s handsome and expressive face. When he smiled his eyes lit up and the little laugh lines around his mouth and eyes crinkled. He carried the blend of Italian and Irish heritage in his features: fierce and commanding when he was angry or frustrated, light and beautiful when he was happy or amused. And those hands — Tristan had large hands with long, nimble fingers. Gabe wondered briefly how it would feel to walk into a room with Tristan guiding him, his hand resting in the middle of his back, laying claim with just a touch.

  When Gio died, Gabe didn’t think he would ever look at another man again, much less be drawn to one. Now he was in the uncomfortable position of being
drawn to two: Tristan and Micah. Both men had unknowingly played a large role in bringing Gabe back from the brink of insanity after the shooting. Now he found himself relying on them far more than he liked. Micah had been dealt a much heavier blow than Gabe by life, what with the war and the scars it left on his mind, body and soul. But he was ever-present and strong for Gabe.

  Then there was Tristan. From the first time they met and Tristan challenged him to face the pain in the wake of losing his lover head on, Gabe had been not only drawn to but dependent on him. Tristan dropped the file folder on the coffee table in front of him with a loud thwack, making Gabe jump.

  He was nervous he had been caught daydreaming, but looking up he saw Tristan leaning over the recliner to pull a pen out of his messenger bag sitting on the floor next to his chair. “Ah, okay, sorry about that, just getting everything in order,” Tristan said, looking over at Gabe and smiling.