The Tinder Stories

by Tory Temple

  The quiet that filled their house changed slightly. Morgan tilted his head and studied Chris. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want you to make me.”

  “But you didn’t tell me. You… you… you lied and hid shit and went to see him. You… you went to see him.” An unfamiliar tightness was rising in Chris’s chest and throat, and for one horrified second, Chris felt his eyes burn. He blinked rapidly and forced away the sting.

  Morgan took Chris’s hand. “Come with me.” He tugged a little and led Chris toward the back door of the kitchen. Chris went, not knowing what else to do amid the confusion.

  Their tiny back porch led down two steps to an even tinier patch of land in the far corner of the yard. Morgan had put up a small white plastic fence around the square of dirt. There were stakes in the soil, each one bearing the name of a flowering plant. “I planted,” Morgan said unnecessarily, because Chris could see the rows of freshly turned earth.

  “Oh. Why?” Chris studied the stakes. Cornflower. Larkspur. Poppy.

  “You said you wanted a garden. So I gave you a garden.” Morgan turned and looked at the patch of dirt. “But you could probably dig those up and put other flowers in there if you wanted to. Or vegetables. Maybe we could grow tomatoes or something.”

  It was true, Chris remembered. He’d said a while ago they should do something with the useless square of dirt in the yard, like make a garden. Morgan had snorted and turned back to his newspaper.

  “You gave me a garden.” Chris looked at it.

  He didn’t realize Morgan was still holding his hand until Morgan squeezed their fingers together. “Chris.”

  “Yeah?” He kept his eyes on the rich brown dirt.

  “I didn’t want you associated with him at all. I didn’t want to find any similarities between the two of you; I didn’t want to have any part of you touch any part of him. I didn’t tell you about it or take you with me because I needed to come back home and know that you were still just Chris. My Chris, the one who doesn’t take risks like he did and isn’t as fucking stupid as he was. I didn’t want you anywhere near him so that I could come to you and know you were clean.”

  It was a long speech for Morgan and Chris knew it. If the man could say what needed to be said in two or three sentences, he would. An outpouring of more than that indicated it was something Morgan felt strongly about.

  “But you were alone,” Chris said softly, staring at his garden. “You were alone. And I could have been there. I didn’t ever have to lay eyes on him, but I could have been there where you needed me.”

  Morgan’s voice was low. “You were exactly where I needed you. It was more comfort to know you were with your mom and dad than to worry about you seeing the mess of a man I thought I loved. You did what I needed you to do without even knowing it.”

  In earlier days of their relationship, Chris would have asked Morgan to define what he meant by “thought he loved.” He would have analyzed whatever Morgan said and picked the semantics apart until Morgan’s apology—and that’s what it was, Chris knew him well enough by now—dissolved into yet another argument between them.

  “Is he still alive?”

  Morgan gave a short nod. “For now. He doesn’t have long. Monica will call me.”

  “Will you go back?”

  No answer was immediately forthcoming. Chris assumed that meant yes.

  “You’ll go with me, if I do.” Morgan tightened his hand around Chris’s again.

  “I will.” Chris nodded. “If you tell me when she calls.”

  “I will.”

  They turned to go back to the house together by unspoken agreement. Their hands remained linked all the way down the hall and into the bedroom, and when Morgan sat on the bed and pulled Chris down to him, and Chris still didn’t let go.

  “This is what I want,” Morgan whispered, tracing Chris’s jaw with the pad of his finger. “You’re what I want. My life is here with you. I don’t love him; I don’t want him.”

  “I know,” Chris whispered back, because he did.

  “Remember it.”

  Chris nodded and leaned into Morgan’s touch, seeking more. Morgan complied by kissing him with a rough mouth, scraping his stubbled jaw alongside Chris’s. “This is what I want,” Chris repeated back to him. “You’re what I want.”

  “I know.”

  “Remember it.”

  They didn’t use words anymore. Their hands stayed joined except for the brief moment when they had to let go to get rid of shirts and shorts and jeans, but as soon as they were naked together, Chris felt Morgan’s fingers searching for his own.

  He found a vulnerable spot behind Morgan’s ear and spent a long time there. The skin grew warm and wet as Chris scraped it with teeth and tongue, Morgan’s soft sounds spurring Chris on. He made a hickey there—one that would get noticed. Chris didn’t care. They rarely marked each other, but sometimes it was necessary.

  Morgan writhed against Chris, and his sounds grew louder with a touch of urgency. It gave Chris a feel of heady power. He spent another moment at the tender spot just to hear the low “Chris, please,” and then Chris sucked in an unexpected breath when Morgan grasped his cock.

  A long, firm stroke had Chris forgetting all about the spot behind Morgan’s ear. “Yes,” Chris gasped, head falling back and legs spreading. “Oh yeah, there.”

  Morgan jacked him for a while, long enough that Chris started making little whimpers and trying to thrust harder into Morgan’s hand. His frustration level grew until he was nearly growling with it, and Morgan chuckled.

  “So impatient.”

  “I want the good stuff,” Chris panted. “Sue me.” He grabbed for Morgan and tried to find a thigh or hip to rub on.

  “Okay, okay.” Morgan grinned down at him and reached for the lube. “I’d be insane to turn that down.”

  Two slick fingers were in Chris’s ass before he was prepared, but the tight burn and resulting stretch sent a zing of pleasure right to his cock. He arched off the bed and grabbed Morgan’s wrist. “Now,” he groaned. “Do it now.”

  “Hold on, let me just—”

  “Nononono, do it!” Chris shook his head in frustration. “Ready, I’m ready, no more prep!”

  Morgan’s fingers were gone in an instant and replaced with the blunt head of his cock. He didn’t bother asking again, and Chris nearly sobbed in relief when Morgan pushed his way inside.

  His own cock moved with each beat of his heart and he resisted the urge to take his pulse that way. Instead, he reached for Morgan’s hand and folded Morgan’s fingers around his shaft.

  There was a hot mouth sliding over Chris’s skin as he clenched hard around the dick in his ass. Morgan groaned and licked at the goose bumps that rose on Chris’s neck. He took a long, gliding stroke and nudged up against the sweet spot that made stars dance behind Chris’s closed eyes.

  Two more long thrusts and then Morgan stopped moving altogether. Chris opened heavy eyes and looked up. “What’s wrong?” His dick throbbed under Morgan’s fingers.

  “Nothing.” Morgan reached up with the hand not around Chris’s prick and smoothed Chris’s hair off his forehead. “I just… want to feel.”

  Chris stayed as still as he could despite the nearly overwhelming desire to reach down and stroke himself off. He was close enough to tremble with the effort of not coming, but the sensation was electric and breathtaking. “Morgan,” he begged, and then squeezed the muscles in his ass as hard as he could.

  “No!” Morgan said, laughing, but it was too late. “Oh, you’re a bastard.” He surged forward and then froze again. There was an instant of suspended time, and then Chris felt Morgan tighten his fist. Chris had a moment to sink his nails into Morgan’s bicep before he came, the white heat of it spilling over the hard fingers around Chris’s cock. He managed to squeeze his ass again as Morgan jerked forward with a moan.

  Morgan shuddered and clutched at Chris’s hand as he came. Chris melded tightly to him, holding on.

&nb
sp; CHRIS FOUND Morgan in the garden after dinner.

  “If the poppies die too soon, we can do pansies instead.” Morgan rubbed his chin thoughtfully and studied the dirt.

  “Whatever’s pretty. Let’s see how it turns out first.”

  Morgan smiled and offered Chris a kiss. “You’re easy to get along with.”

  “One of us has to be.”

  They kissed again, standing in the backyard next to Chris’s garden.

  Sparks

  CHAPTER ONE

  MORGAN KNEW, even before he opened his eyes, that Christopher was not going to let this birthday pass unnoticed.

  “It’s significant,” Chris had been insisting for months. “The last time you’ll ever turn forty-nine.”

  “It’s also the first time,” Morgan would reply. He had never been the type to pretend he was a certain age over and over again.

  Chris gave him an annoyed look. “You’re not old, Morgan. God. My dad says that old is always ten years older than you actually are.”

  Morgan had chuckled and eyed Chris over the top of his newspaper. “So, since you’re only thirty-four, I am old to you.”

  “That’s not what I meant!” Chris sighed in frustration and gave up the silly argument, although Morgan could tell he was secretly plotting.

  Plotting and planning, despite Morgan’s polite requests to either ignore his birthday altogether or, barring that, keep things extremely quiet. A nice dinner at home with the two of them sounded just fine, thanks.

  But Christopher had never done well in the way of actually hearing what Morgan was trying to say. The fact that perhaps Morgan wasn’t communicating effectively had crossed his mind from time to time, but he usually tossed out that idea in favor of passing it off as Chris’s youth being the reason why their arguments happened.

  Although, really. Was midthirties that young? It sounded like it, to someone who could only claim “late forties” for one more year. Morgan had never thought much about his age, aside from the medical issues that plagued him, high cholesterol being first and foremost. Chris had always been and would always be younger, by a decade and a half. Nothing was going to change that.

  Or the fact that Christopher was a fireman who loved his job and had no intention of giving it up. Morgan couldn’t change that either.

  Chris liked to mumble under his breath that Morgan hated firemen. It wasn’t precisely true, but Morgan let him think it just to avoid getting into a more in-depth argument over how Morgan really felt about firefighters. Those details weren’t coming out unless he’d had a lot of scotch and probably a blowjob. He’d told Christopher the basics, back when they’d first started seeing each other. The basics had covered it and Chris seemed satisfied with that, although not so accepting of the actual reasons.

  “But not all firemen are like that, Morgan. I’m not like that. Most of my friends aren’t like that.” Chris had said it time and again, each time with an earnest look on his face that made Morgan want to kiss him and then take him to bed. He did, a few times, and it had the desired effect of making Chris be quiet.

  But it was always there, beneath the surface. Morgan had strong feelings about most firemen, and they weren’t positive ones.

  Chris was one of the very few exceptions to that rule. Morgan’s feelings for Chris had been combative at the start before they mellowed into something more… gentle. Morgan had lumped him in with all the others, until something in Chris’s flashing blue eyes convinced Morgan that this one was a little different.

  The convincing part had taken place in a diner bathroom, but that small indiscretion could be forgiven. The boy sucked great dick. Chris did a lot of things well, Morgan had to admit, and sex was only part of it. He was a good rider, he could cook a decent meal, he took beautiful photographs, and for all intents and purposes, Chris was a good fireman. Safe, careful, respectful.

  Morgan worried anyway.

  The reasons why he worried may or may not have been rational ones. Morgan didn’t care, since explaining himself wasn’t a priority. He chose instead to lump it all under one category: not liking firemen. The nuances of it were unimportant. He liked one fireman, he would tell Chris over and over. The one that shared his house and his bed. Wasn’t that enough?

  “The guys I work with are good,” Chris would insist. “Rich is a cool captain. I see you guys talking and stuff when you teach at my station.”

  Morgan conceded his point. “True. But I never said I hated him or that he wasn’t good at his job. I work with most captains in your department. I know the ones who are decent guys. Rich is good, Matt is good, Chance is good. I’d work with any of them without a problem.”

  He didn’t miss the flash of distaste that crossed Chris’s features at the mention of Chancellor Shanahan, and Morgan had to swallow a laugh. Chris’s on-the-job paramedic partner, Tucker, had been a onetime romantic pursuit for Chris. All well and good until Chance—Tucker’s off-the-job partner—had caught wind of Chris’s interest. Now Chris spent a lot of time ducking the cold stares from the tall handsome captain.

  Morgan liked the guy, actually. Chance was a good captain to work with. He always had his crew’s hours and schedules available when Morgan needed to schedule classes. Morgan had heard good things about him out in the field too. Quiet, dependable, good decision-maker. Now that was the kind of fireman Morgan wished they all could be.

  He wasn’t threatened in the least by the fact that Chris and Tucker still worked together. Tucker was a pretty thing, sure. But somehow Morgan knew that the twinkling light in Tucker’s eyes meant that Chance had his hands full. Chris and Tucker would have made a poor match anyway. Morgan didn’t worry about things like that.

  What he did worry about was Christopher’s insistence on ignoring Morgan’s request for a quiet birthday. Especially since Chris was looking at him now, eyes bright and merry.

  “Morning,” Chris said, stretching out long and lean under the covers. “Happy birthday.”

  Morgan made a face and hid under his pillow. “Okay, you said it. Don’t remind me again for the rest of the day.”

  “Heh. You’re turning down birthday sex?” Chris wiggled closer, and Morgan could feel him, all warm and sleepy.

  “No one said anything about turning down sex.” Especially not his dick, which was waking up right on cue.

  Chris snuck a hand under the covers and over Morgan’s hip. “So what happens when I want to give you a birthday blowjob later today? Do we pretend it’s just because?” Gentle fingers curled around Morgan’s cock.

  Morgan turned to his back to provide better access and closed his eyes. “Yes. Actually, it would be better if you just blew me now and then let me fuck you later. We’ll call it an advance birthday present and never mention the word ‘birthday’ again.”

  Chris’s response was a low chuckle and then a loose, wet mouth around Morgan’s prick. Okay, so maybe there was an argument for actually having a birthday, if it meant blowjobs first thing in the morning.

  They slept naked together, a small concession Morgan had made when the two of them first moved in with each other. Chris made noises of disgust whenever he would discover Morgan had boxers on in bed and threatened several times to cut them off Morgan’s body in his sleep. Since Morgan spent a nice bit of money on expensive boxer shorts and didn’t trust Chris with sharp blades near his prick, the boxers were the first to go.

  His cock felt heavy with need, and Morgan had a flash of gratification that his desire showed no signs of diminishing with age. And hey, he’d be the first to admit to himself that Chris was almost completely responsible for that. The ready grin, the sweet blue eyes, the shock of blond hair that was always a bit too long… yeah, Chris definitely did wonders for Morgan’s sexual appetite.

  Especially when Chris lowered his willing mouth to Morgan’s dick and sucked hard. Morgan jerked in response and began rubbing the sheet between his fingers while Chris blew him.

  The pattern changed from tight pulls to loose, open licks. M
organ couldn’t decide which he liked better, so that was probably a testament to Chris’s skill with his tongue. Best to just lie back and enjoy it all.

  His muscles coiled like springs as Morgan drew closer to orgasm, and Chris took his sweet time about letting Morgan come. Back and forth over the head, Chris’s tongue flattened over the crown and teased at the little slit. The teasing suddenly became too much and Morgan growled in warning, which only succeeded in making Chris laugh softly. A few more dainty licks made Morgan hiss and growl again, and then Chris finally decided to get down to business.

  Chris went back to the long, slow pulls, and Morgan sighed in relief. The suction was right, the rhythm was right, and Chris’s mouth felt like the softest velvet inside. Morgan’s thoughts scattered a bit as he felt his climax yanked from him. The sheet was pulled from the bed, and Morgan arched and shuddered.

  He was still coming down from the pleasurable high when he heard Christopher gasp a little. Morgan lifted his head to see Chris fisting his cock quickly, trying to get off. Morgan reached down and snared Chris by the upper arm, hauling him across the bed until Chris was sprawled across Morgan’s chest and his leaking cock was nestled in the curve of Morgan’s hip.

  “Better?”

  “OhGodyes.” Chris moved against Morgan, seeking friction. Morgan obliged him by shoving a hand between their bodies and curling it around Chris’s erection. He stroked hard, just twice, and then Chris was coming with a panting gasp that made Morgan’s dick twitch in response.

  “Oof.” Chris went slack and let his full weight drape over Morgan. “That was kind of like it was my birthday too.”

  Morgan chuckled. One of Chris’s more attractive qualities was humor. “I still get to fuck you later.” He smacked the bare ass within reach. “Up. I have to be at Station Five in an hour.”

  Chris sighed and dragged himself off to the edge of the bed. He reached for the tissue box and offered it to Morgan. “You’re home in time for us to make our reservation, right? You said you would be.”