_Anthology - Mr. Right Now

by _Anthology

  Tam’s hands slid higher up to twist Jimmy’s nipples just to hear him growl again, and when the hotshot did, he thought he was going to melt right through the seat. Jimmy pushed another finger into him and Tam’s little helpless sounds of pleasure were muffled against Jimmy’s mouth, urging him on. His hips rocked hard and he swore if Jimmy didn’t fuck him soon, he was going to come before the hotshot ever got a chance to penetrate him with his cock.

  That idea had merits, but Tam was pretty damn sure that Jimmy with a set of blue balls would be even more annoying than he normally was. Tam tore his mouth away, taking a deep ragged breath, trying to gather together his scattered thoughts. He nipped Jimmy’s lower lip hard, groaning at the taste of blood on his lips.

  “Come on, hotshot,” Tam grated. “What’s wrong? Forgot how to use your equipment?” He met Jimmy’s eyes and smirked, his hand coming down to squeeze Jimmy’s cock. “Maybe I need to fuck you instead. Show you how it’s done.”

  Tam gasped as Jimmy sat up, his warmth departing him and sending goose bumps along his legs. He removed his fingers as well, leaving Tam strangely bereft and empty. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jimmy replied.

  Tam gasped again as the hotshot flipped him over onto his stomach, hard hands clamping down on his hips, urging his ass up into the air. He groaned, biting down on his lip hard, his stomach fluttering madly, his heart thundering in his ears. The hot, blunt head of Jimmy’s cock slid across his ass and Tam spread his legs as wide as he could without falling off the seat.

  Jimmy leaned over him, pushing into him hard. Tam’s nails scraped against the upholstery and he bit his lip harder, tasting his own blood this time against the sting, though fuck, despite the pain it felt so damned good to finally have Jimmy deep inside him. Tam moved restlessly back against him, the discomfort easing as he relaxed to take him in. Jimmy’s teeth nipped his ear and his voice was husky with the ever present mocking back in his tone. “Besides, Bryan, we both know who the bitch here is.”

  Tam clenched around Jimmy hard enough that the hotshot took in a quick breath, hissing through his teeth. He twisted his head around to give him a dark glare and then reached up to wrap his hand hard around the nape of Jimmy’s neck. “You call me a bitch again, James, and I’m throwing you through the fucking window,” he snarled.

  Jimmy grinned. Fuck, he did love to rile Bryan Tam. The man wore his control and calm like a coat, and Jimmy had from day one been bent on stripping that façade of proper from him just to see what was underneath.

  It turned out what was underneath was an angel with wings of fire, scorching him, burning him alive, and Jimmy didn’t care, just dove headlong into the flames with no thought for the danger. And oh, there was danger. Jimmy wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize that. This moment would only last as long as the orgasm, and then they would be back at each other’s throats. Jimmy felt a surge of sadness at that thought, though he didn’t acknowledge it, focusing instead on the beautiful feeling of Tam beneath him, wild and whimpering, needy for him and just him.

  Jimmy rocked his hips hard, nipping at Bryan’s snarling lips. “Wasn’t an insult, baby, you’re about the hottest thing I ever saw on your knees like this.” It was true, too. He hadn’t ever in his life seen or felt or tasted anything like Bryan Tam in the throes of passion. It was, quite frankly, stunning.

  Tam glowered and rocked his hips back to meet Jimmy’s thrusts. “Don’t think I’m not going to have you on your knees before the night’s over, hotshot. Now shut the hell up and fuck me.”

  Jimmy snickered and kissed him, unable to resist, even as his hips started up a steady and rhythmic thrusting, deep and hard, long and slow, in no rush despite the cold that he barely felt and the place which he barely remembered. All he could focus on was that he’d craved Tam in just this position for longer than he cared to think about, and he’d be damned if he let it go to waste with a quickie. Oh no, not this time around. Lord only knew if he’d ever get the chance again.

  Jimmy shoved Tam’s coat and shirt up, baring his back, tongue and teeth moving over the sleek warm flesh. He made a low sound of appreciation when Tam fumbled and shrugged out of the remaining clothes, Jimmy’s own following suit until they were skin against skin and the car was so damn hot and steamed up with their movements and body heat that sweat actually formed, belying the snowstorm raging outside. The storm raging inside was far stronger.

  Jimmy let his hands roam freely over Tam, trying his best to memorize his body, because he might never get another opportunity like this and he didn’t want to forget. Ha, as if he could forget. The man was branding himself on Jimmy’s psyche, and Jimmy thought he would never get him out.

  Tam’s skin was silky smooth, warm and alive under his fingers, the muscles moving fluidly. The bit of soft at his waistline had Jimmy so damn tempted to take a bite, but he was far more interested in nibbling on that soft, warm nape instead, tongue laving the sweet flesh. How someone as damned prickly as Tam could taste so fucking sweet was beyond Jimmy.

  “Ya feel so good, Bryan.” He didn’t try and censor the shakiness of his voice, too far gone at this point to care about how vulnerable he was and how naked his emotions were. His arms wrapped around Tam’s body, and Jimmy pressed him down into the seat, hips moving deeper, harder, face buried in his shoulder blade.

  “Hotshot…God, James.” Tam’s voice was shaky too, and Jimmy took some comfort in that, worming one hand underneath Tam to wrap it around his cock and let his thumb stroke the shaft, circling the head. If he wanted to really stroke him, Jimmy was gonna have to lift off of him some, and that wasn’t acceptable at the moment, so he settled for fondling him instead, driving into him over and over, withdrawing almost completely and savoring the whimpers and ragged cries when he thrust back inside.

  Jimmy had never thought it’d be like this. Even he didn’t have that good of an imagination. He had the briefest of thoughts that Tam was ruining Jimmy for any other man, but it didn’t linger in his mind, torn away by the flare of pleasure when Tam clenched around him. He’d think about that other thing later.

  “Don’t stop, Jimmy,” Tam moaned. “God, don’t ever stop.” He thought distantly that he might be revealing too much as he turned his head so their breaths were mingling, but it was lost when Jimmy’s eyes flashed.

  “I ain’t ever lettin’ ya go, Bryan,” Jimmy said fiercely before kissing him, his tongue claiming Tam’s mouth possessively. It had the strength of an unshakable vow and something within Tam broke free to be carried away by the storm of passion. He was stunned and humbled. All he could do was kiss Jimmy back and cling to what was left of the shreds of his composure. It seemed as if Jimmy was touching him everywhere, branding himself into his skin, his soul. The hotshot’s body and relentless thrusts laid a claim on him he couldn’t disregard.

  Suddenly Jimmy lifted off of him and Tam keenly felt the loss, from the sudden sweep of cool air over his feverish skin to the deep unfulfilled ache in his body. He cried out, twisting his torso around to look at Jimmy, his breath catching as he saw him fully naked in the faint light. It should be illegal to be that fucking beautiful. “Dammit, Jimmy,” he snapped, craving their contact again. “Don’t stop.”

  “Who’da ever thought Bryan Tam would be so hot for me,” Jimmy teased, his hands coming down to Tam’s hips and rolling him over onto his back within the tight confines of the backseat. Tam wrapped his legs around Jimmy’s waist as he lay between his thighs. “I wanna see your face when ya come for me, Bryan,” Jimmy continued, surging deep into him again.

  Tam cried out, arching against Jimmy and clenching around him. His hands, greedy for the opportunity, skimmed over Jimmy’s body, following the line of his hip, tracing the curve of his back, caressing the muscles of Jimmy’s ass that moved under his touch as the hotshot fucked him. Tam’s head fell back on the seat, the reality nigh overwhelming. He whimpered as Jimmy took the unwitting invitation and attacked his throat, nipping and sucking in a maddening fashion. Jimmy was
marking him in return.

  He squeezed a generous handful of Jimmy’s ass. Damn him. He probably had the most perfect ass of anybody south of Mason-Dixon line. Then Jimmy shifted, his cock driving straight against his prostate instead of just brushing by it, and Tam sucked in a deep, startled breath of air at the sudden shock of electricity along already over stimulated nerves. He let out a sharp cry that was almost a scream.

  Tam raked his nails down Jimmy’s shoulders, and the hotshot bowed back, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” Jimmy growled. His hand wormed between their writhing bodies to grasp Tam’s cock again and started stroking it roughly.

  Tam bit his lip hard trying to hold off the orgasm that was threatening to thunder through him. As he tasted blood against his lip, a strange expression crossed Jimmy’s face and he leaned closer licking Tam’s lower lip before drawing it into his mouth. The intimacy of that gesture tore though Tam’s defenses, and he cried out inarticulate words against Jimmy’s mouth, his legs flexing around Jimmy, his hands clinging as his orgasm hit him with stunning force.

  Jimmy wasn’t prepared for the sudden clenching around his cock as Tam came. He gasped and watched with wide eyes as the stoic, perfectly controlled man he’d known the last three years came apart in his arms. There was no help for it, his own orgasm had already been hovering dangerously close to the surface, and the sight of Tam shattering like that was more than enough to put Jimmy right over the edge.

  “Fuuuck…” he groaned out as he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt and holding himself there inside that spasming, clenching heat. He shook, letting out a hoarse shout as his own orgasm tore through him, flooding Tam deeply. Unable to hold himself up any longer, Jimmy collapsed down onto him in a tumble of sweaty limbs and panting breath and trembling muscles.

  Tam didn’t move, holding onto Jimmy for a long, long moment as they both attempted to regain their equilibrium. Eventually, Jimmy realized it just wasn’t going to happen anytime soon and lifted his head, looking down at Tam.

  Tam stared back up at him and they both held their breaths, waiting for the inevitable drop of the other shoe. For one or the other to snatch away, fists to fly maybe, the usual irritation and attitude to rise up between them and make this encounter nothing more than an insane fluke inspired by the crazy situation they were in.

  Jimmy didn’t move, didn’t even blink, prepared for Tam to hit him or taunt him, call him a hillbilly again and be the Bryan Tam Jimmy knew and hated. Part of him wished for it, if only to ease his own uncertainty about what came next. At least then he would know. Part of him, however, waited with bated breath for Tam to say something that would make tonight make sense and perhaps tell Jimmy where he was supposed to go from here, where he stood.

  Tam shifted then, and Jimmy took the hint and slowly eased out of him. He scooted back on the seat and leaned against the car door, watching Tam across on the other side of the vehicle. Waiting. Tam sat up slowly, a wince here and there that told Jimmy that he’d be feeling the effects of that fucking for the next few days. Some part of Jimmy preened at that knowledge.

  Finally, Tam looked at him, dark eyes unfathomable and Jimmy sucked in a breath, bracing himself, steeling himself for the blow, whether physical or verbal. He suddenly felt so young, every bit his twenty-seven years and some little boy part of him watched Tam with hope, the naïve part of him that wanted more than the sparring he would probably get.

  “I suppose you think this changes things, don’t you, James?” Jimmy’s face fell and he drew in a breath, all of a sudden so tired. He ignored the bands tightening around his chest and swallowed, sighing and shaking his head. “No, Bryan, Ah don’t. Ah ain’t stupid.”

  He began to fumble for his clothes, not looking at Tam, not wanting to see the disdain on his face. Sanctimonious bastard, who did he think he was? He’d done just as much of the fucking as Jimmy had and he had the balls to sit there and judge? Bullshit, Jimmy grumbled in his head, such complete and utter…

  “Well, it does. Change things, I mean.” Jimmy froze and Tam’s hand cupped his chin. “Look at me, James, please.” Jimmy lifted his head and for the first time noticed the weariness in his dark eyes, the smile curving his lips. He looked like… like maybe he was as tired of the feuding as Jimmy was. Maybe he was?

  Tam exhaled, tilting his head and arching his slim brows. “Now, don’t get it into your head that I’m excusing your deviant behavior, and you still listen to your music too loud, and frankly I don’t know what you see in football, but…” Tam met Jimmy’s eyes with a slightly peeved look. “Are you going to make me say it, brat?”

  Jimmy grinned, figuring out where this was going and he nodded. “Oh hell yes, Bryan. I’m gonna make you say it. Go on, you won’t choke. Go ooonnn…” His voice dragged out in a taunting note and he smirked wider when Tam rolled his eyes.

  “Fine. Maybe… maybe I like you. A little. Some. Not a lot, mind you, but maybe a bit.” Jimmy let out a whoop of laughter, snickering. “Oh man, ya shoulda seen your face when ya said that, like ya sucked on a lemon!” Jimmy slid both arms around Tam and tugged him forward to lay against his chest, his eyes now serious. “I like you too. Don’t go braggin’ about that, though, I’ll deny it.”

  Tam laughed and nodded. “Our secret, hotshot. Our secret.” They lay there like that, wrapped around each other, under the blanket, the snow falling heavy and silent outside. But inside… inside they were warmer than either had been in a long, long time.

  Fae Sutherland Fae Sutherland has always dreamed of being a published author, starting her writing career off at age 11 with a horrific "Monkees" fan fiction that will, luckily for all, never see the light of day. At age 33, she has since progressed to more serious writing, though always keeping that dash of irreverence and fun.

  Fae tells the stories that the muses give her, and though she is multi-published both solo and joint, she truly does prefer writing with her co-author Marguerite Labbe best. When she's not working hard on writing new stories to make her readers sweat or slaving over edits for completed work, she spends her time on website and graphic design, being with her closest friends and playing The Sims 2 until the wee hours of the morning.

  She currently resides in Washington, D.C., where there is never a shortage of interesting characters to draw inspiration from.

  Marguerite Labbe Marguerite is a homoerotic author who is a shade neurotic, has a muse with OCD tendencies, and a husband, son, and genderconfused cat who are all doing an excellent job at keeping her toeing the line. Together with her co-author Fae Sutherland, Marguerite has found a shared passion for beautiful men with smart mouths, and stories that often ask hard questions or bring up taboo subjects.

  When she's not working hard on writing new material and editing completed work, she spends her time reading novels of all genres, enjoying roleplaying games with her equally nutty friends, and trying to plot practical jokes against her son and husband.

  Visit Fae & Marguerite’s Website at http://chasethedream.net/

  Deacon Decides

  Eric Arvin

  DEACON passed the rows of travelers in their identical blue seats with disinterest and something approaching disdain. The mothers and fathers, teenagers and grandparents, businessmen and vacationers of Qantas Air Flight 94 to Australia surrounded him. He had always hated flying, but not for any fear of disaster. No, Deacon simply hated being aloft with a herd of people he really didn’t know, especially for hours at a time. His nature was rather reserved, and, for the most part, he was a loner. He had never been a big fan of crowds. But for Australia, for graduate school, he would do it. The adventure waiting for him at the end of the flight was well worth the torture of getting there.

  He followed his traveling companion Carol to their seats. She was much more at ease. She loved people. Adored them, actually.

  Luckily Deacon's was a window seat. He preferred to focus on the ephemeral qualities of clouds and traveling birds to the stolid presence of
his fellow passengers.

  It was as he was loading his carry-on into the overhead bin, other travelers pushing past him carelessly, that he caught the interested glance of a flight attendant a few rows down. Deacon noticed first that the broad-shouldered man was helping a little white-haired woman with her things while she was thanked him profusely in a thick, New England accent. Deacon quickly sized up the man’s features: strong jaw, clipped hair, and a deep chest – very attractive. Deacon promptly collapsed into his window seat, fearing he might have stared too long though it had only been a few seconds. There was the connection, of course, any gay man would have felt it. It was a kindred attraction, so to speak. The flight attendant’s eyes clearly expressed interest; he might as well have winked. Deacon, though, had never acquired any flirtation skills and always doubted his own gaydar. He was somewhat –

  “ – socially retarded,” Carol said as she sat beside him. “Just say something to him. You’re both gay.” Carol was more attuned to such things. She could spot the one gay man in a crowd of ten as if he was wearing a scarlet letter. That was, in fact, how she had met Deacon.

  “I don’t know that. You don’t know that.” He definitely knew it, deep down in his strong, gay core. “You always do this. You find a guy you think is cute and drool over him, but then never go for it.” She started flipping through the in-flight magazine from the seat pouch in front of her. “It’s so irritating, because then you bitch to me about being lonely. And there’s no one to blame but yourself, Deacon.”

  “Why would he be interested?” Deacon asked, already defeated. The plane was filling up, and Deacon massaged his ear lobe, a nervous habit.

  “Because you’re gorgeous, honey. Everybody in school thought so. You were always the only one who couldn’t see it.” Gorgeous? No, Deacon would have never applied that word to himself. He thought he could sometimes be nice-looking, but never gorgeous. Gorgeous was something reserved for underwear models and go-go boys in New York and Montreal. He had a nice body from years of exercise, a winning smile, and green eyes, but those were ordinary traits in a world that wanted the extraordinary. It was a world where everyone sought an Adonis, and every Adonis became a Narcissus.