Don't Plan to Stay

by Kaje Harper

  “I don’t want to stop.”

  “Nope. Lay down.”

  I did what he said, stretched out on my back, propped on the pillows, and he straddled my thighs. When he set both hands on my hips, my cock took renewed notice. He began stroking my skin, up my sides, over my right pec with a gentle rub to the nipple, then his fingers drifted to my scars. He looked down with a somber expression as he traced them, his touch feather-light. I shivered.

  He pulled his hand back. “Do they still hurt?”

  “Tickles.” I pressed his fingers to me firmly. “You can touch me anywhere. Just do it like you mean it. Like you want to.”

  “I’m so—”

  “Shush. Don’t you dare say it again.”

  “I wasn’t there when you were hurting.”

  “And that wasn’t your fault either. But if you don’t start fucking me now, it will be your fault.” I ran my nails down his thigh.

  His eyes brightened, and his cock jerked. He set his hands on my stomach, rubbing teasingly around the base of my dick with his thumbs. Then he grinned at me and sat back, flexing his arms and cracking his knuckles, like he was going to do weight-lifting.

  “Doesn’t your tattoo hurt?”

  “Nah, it’s okay.” He leaned forward and took my cock in both fists.

  I gave an embarrassing squeak.

  He squeezed me lightly, staring at the curve of the head sticking up between his fingers. “I love this thing.” Then he slid one hand up my stomach and circled the bandage on my chest. “But it’s weird.”

  “What’s weird this time? We’re having the sex now.”

  His chuckle shook his thighs against mine. “Yep, we are. But, you know, the tattoos? That was almost more… more I don’t know what.”

  More intimate? Even though we didn’t even touch each other. I’d thought the same thing. I’d felt so connected to Donnie as he changed the mark on his body to one he chose, as I celebrated Mom with something that would stay forever. “I’m glad we did it.”

  “Me too. Even if it means taking it a bit easy with you.”

  I was plenty hard now. “Not too easy.”

  “Nope.” He went on touching me, squeezing the base of my dick, pushing a finger lower to press against my balls. I whined and tried to spread for him, but he held my thighs between his own. His hair fell over his forehead as he watched me under his hands. I shivered and tried to buck up into the hollow of his palm.

  “Any time now.”

  “Lube?”

  “In the headboard. And condoms.” I tried to reach behind my head.

  “I’ll get them.” He rose on his knees and leaned over me, and I got a great view of his strong abs, furry thighs, and low-hanging balls beneath the perfect curve of his dick.

  I grabbed his hip with one hand and tried to coax him up toward my open mouth.

  He resisted. “Not unless you want me to come that way.”

  I did, but I didn’t. Not when he was offering more. I let go, and he sank back on my legs, supplies in hand. He opened the condom first, dripped lube into the tip, and rolled it onto me. His motions were efficient, almost businesslike. I don’t know why they turned me on so damned much. No, I did. I’m going to fuck Donnie Kagan. I had to think about snow and ice and the pain in my left pec so I wouldn’t come at his touch.

  He squeezed out more lube, rose on his knees, and reached behind himself. I saw his arm flex, his forehead creasing as he worked himself. His shoulders hunched, then relaxed. Even the little stutter of his breath made me sweat. I’ll be in him soon. I ringed the base of my dick with a tight grip and watched him.

  After a minute, he stopped and took more lube, wrapping his slick fingers around me. I stared at his hand, still gripping the base of my own dick as I tracked the squeeze and swirl of his fingers over the latex. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my vision got sparkly. I sucked air, coughed, and laughed.

  “Yeah, gotta breathe.” Donnie stroked me again. I swear his hands were a hundred degrees warmer than the air. A trickle of sweat ran down my cheek.

  Then he rose, rocked toward me, and guided my cock back behind him. He sat down slowly until I was barely pressed up against him, and paused, rocking against me in almost imperceptible motions. The tiny rub and slide against my cock head made me crazy, but he’d hardly taken any prep time. I wasn’t going to push him. Wasn’t. I couldn’t resist bucking upward, and I felt his opening give a little.

  He grunted through closed teeth and rocked again, forcing me a little deeper. Again, another fractional gain. Again. Then suddenly his ass relaxed enough to let me slide a full inch into that tight heat. We both took a sharp breath. He lifted a bit and then sat, rose, sat, working himself open on me, his pressure around my cock in a perfect grip. Oh yeah. More of that! I managed not to shove up into him again, but dammit, I wanted to. As he sped up, giving me deeper, faster strokes, his half-softened dick began to fill.

  I used my right hand to circle his shaft, sliding my grip, trying to time my motion to his. He grew harder at my touch. I pumped up and over the head for a moment, then back down his shaft, his precum adding slip to my strokes, watching him push through my fist. So hot. He gasped a rough breath, and I looked up at his face. His eyes were half-closed, lips parted, the cords of his neck strained as sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. Jesus. Donnie.

  He paused for an instant, then sat down hard, driving me up inside him until his ass met my thighs. I almost came right there, buried deep in him. He froze for a moment, filled, giving me enough time to claw back from the edge. Not coming. Not yet. His weight anchored me, and I took a shaky breath. Then he grinned and began a gentle rocking motion. The tug on my dick seemed low-key at first but quickly began taking me right back to the brink.

  “Gonna come.” I tightened and loosened my fingers rhythmically on his dick, just squeezing because I couldn’t coordinate anything better.

  “Not yet.” He stopped again and leaned forward. Keeping his eyes on mine, he bowed over and kissed me. I was too close to do anything but open my mouth for him. The slow pressure his lips and thrusts of his tongue were amazing, but not what I needed.

  “Come on. Fuck me!”

  He pulled back to laugh at me, his eyes dark and wicked in the dim light. Then he sat up, braced a hand beside me, and rode me fast and hard, with a low grunt each time I seated deep in him. I came in amazing, pulsing relief, my body turning itself inside out, pushing upward. This, yes, now, Jesus, yeah. My vision blurred. My arms shook, and I heard Donnie groan louder. I tried to keep up the motion of my hand on him, but all I could feel was my dick trying to empty everything I had into his hot tightness. Oh, Jesus.

  As I shuddered down on the first aftershocks, I realized he was still rock-hard in my fist. I turned my spastic squeezing into better strokes. He whined, almost too soft to hear, and rocked into my fist. Then he put his hand over mine and jerked at a punishing pace. A dozen strokes, and he came, groaning, striping white ribbons onto my stomach and chest.

  I laughed with pleasure and a final spurt caught my face. “Ack!”

  “Sorry not sorry.” Donnie took his hand off mine and grinned at me, damp with sweat.

  I eased my grip slowly and gently, then let him go. His softening cock brushed my stomach, and we both twitched. Donnie swiped up a fingerful of cum off my chest and wiped it on the sheet.

  “Hey! I don’t want to do laundry. Grab the tissues,” I said.

  “Grab the condom.” Before I could protest, he eased up off me and leaned over, snagging the tissue box from the headboard. The view was just as fine as before. The faint light through the window outlined the arch of his ribcage and I could see he was a little thin despite all that lean muscle. I stroked up his side, and he shuddered and sat down hard on my thighs.

  “Ouch. Break my legs, why don’t you?”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch.” He ground his ass against me. My cock gave a little, blissed-out twitch. He laughed, the bastard. But then he grabbed some
tissues and began wiping my chest. “I think the bandage is okay. I wasn’t thinking. You make me crazy.”

  “In a good way?”

  “Amazing way.” He dabbed, wiped, then peeled the condom off me, playing with my dick just a bit more than was necessary to clean me up. I was sensitive, but the warm, amused look on his face as he stared down kept me from protesting. He eased off the bed, dumped the tissues, then stretched out beside me.

  He got quiet. I was afraid of what he might start to say, so I kissed him, keeping it soft and slow. His lips tightened under mine, but then he went along with it. We kissed like we used to on long summer afternoons when we had all the time in the world. I closed my eyes and focused on the feel and taste of Donnie.

  We got drowsy. Donnie’s lips moved against mine now and then. The room was quiet and warm, and the sweat was drying on my skin. The smells and feels, the sticky traces on my stomach, the noodle-looseness of my muscles, were too perfect to lose to sleep. “So, what next?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll stay until you go to Minneapolis.”

  I’d meant in the next hour, not the next month, but I’d take Donnie talking to me any way I got it. “You should come along. Look for work. Or go to school.”

  “Work, I guess. I looked online for companies that hire felons. There are a few. Lots don’t.”

  I hadn’t even thought about that. “I guess.”

  He rolled on his back but put an arm across my hips, like he was keeping me there with him. “You know, I was so stupid. Right after the accident, I thought I was going to become an EMT. I watched them saving you and taking care of Nate, everything, and I thought ‘I want to do that.’”

  “Not possible?” I kept my voice soft.

  “Nope. Violent felony, driving offense. No way. I can do construction, painting, warehouse, landscaping, shit like that.”

  I rolled on my side to kiss his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  He slid his arm under my neck and hugged me to him. “Life sucks. I’ll manage. Jobs that hire illegals are always open too, cleaning, farm labor.”

  You would’ve been a great EMT. I could totally see Donnie threading through traffic with the siren running, taking charge of accident victims with his practical skills. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck.

  He stroked his thumb over my hair. “No worries. I’m here today, with you. The cage is open now, right? Who knows what comes out?”

  I kissed along the edge of his jaw, then licked a trail down to his collarbone. He shifted to cup my head and press my mouth harder against his skin. We played around for a while, touches, soft bites, licking, and blowing it cool until we both got hard, and turned to each other, rocking together in our joined fists till we came again. I drowsed off thinking I was going to have to do the damned laundry after all, but it was totally worth it.

  Chapter 11

  Donnie

  “Hey, can you help Mrs. Franks out to her car?” Nate came around the counter holding several bulging bags.

  “Of course.” I gave her my best charm-the-old-ladies smile. “Anyone with that much holiday spirit deserves a hand.”

  “I could carry it,” she said. “But who am I to refuse an escort from a handsome young man?”

  “Absolutely. Take all the perks.”

  Nate passed me the handles, making sure I had a good grip this time. The first time he’d handed off a bag, he’d acted like I had Ebola, and we’d ended up dropping a ceramic figurine. Total loss.

  I followed the lady to the door, waited until she was buttoned and hatted and gloved, then followed her across the parking lot. Only a couple other cars were around but judging by the last few days, we’d be busy as soon as work began letting out for the day. Nothing says I don’t know what to get you like a Santa cookie jar or a set of red and green dish towels. Adam said sales had been good. God bless the last-minute shoppers.

  I loaded the bags carefully in the back seat of her ancient Crown Vic and waved her on her way. Crap, this weather could freeze a guy’s balls off. Why was I thinking about Minneapolis at this time of year? Especially an unskilled labor job in Minneapolis?

  Adam hurried out the side door, tugging his parka closed, and gave me a warm smile. Oh yeah, that’s why.

  “Going to the house to bring Dad back his glasses,” he called.

  “You found them!” I gave him a thumbs up.

  “On top of the oven mitt display. Hold the fort.”

  I watched as he turned onto the path to the house, skidding as he left the sanded lot. I should sand the path, too. I made a mental note to do it on my break. Adam windmilled his arms and slowed to a more sensible walk. I watched his back a moment more, but the parka hid his fine ass, and the wind was turning mine to ice. I wrapped my arms around myself and hurried back inside.

  I was immediately grabbed by a young woman who wanted to know what I thought her husband would like in the holiday picture frames. I resisted the impulse to say, “I dunno, is he gay too?” Instead, I unclenched her fingers from dangerously close to my tattoo and tried to channel Ryan Gosling.

  The door opened as I was holding a Golden Retriever ceramic and a weathered wood with pine cones for her to see them better. Nate’s, “Hi, can I help you?” didn’t make me turn.

  “I’m looking for Donnie Kagan.”

  That made me whirl around, almost dropping the frames. “Leon?”

  Sure enough. Skinny, big hair, dumb leather jacket that wasn’t close to warm enough. He turned to me. “Donnie! There you are.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “If you’d answer your fucking phone I wouldn’t have to be.”

  “Shhh.” I flapped my hand at him. “I’m working.” I probably shouldn’t have left my phone off for days. “I can talk to you on my break.”

  “How ’bout now?”

  Nate came toward us. “Donnie, is there a problem?”

  “No, man,” Leon said before I could. “No problem. I just need to talk to this guy for a minute.”

  Nate said, “Take your break as soon as Adam gets back.” He retreated toward the register, but I felt his eyes on me.

  I turned back to my customer, keeping my patented smile. “You know, you can’t go wrong with a Golden Retriever, you think?”

  “Sure.” She took that one from me, glancing nervously at Leon. “I’ll just go check out. Thanks.”

  I set the other frame back in the display. Leon stepped in closer and I took the chance to mutter, “Don’t you scare off the damned customers. I need this job.” Really, the Lindbergs needed the income, but that was none of his business.

  “Sorry, dude. Sorry. But it’s really, fucking important! Like, now!”

  I glanced around. Frame lady was checking out, and one other customer was making a determined hunt through the ornaments, a good dozen dangling from her fingers. “Okay, over here, but keep it down!” I led Leon around the shelves behind the Christmas trees. “And make it fast.”

  “I need some money.”

  I rubbed my face. “Leon, what the fuck makes you think I got money?” I could hear the cadence of my voice changing and gritted my teeth.

  “You said. You saved up a bunch for California.”

  “For me to live on till I get a fucking job.”

  He gestured around. “You got a job, dude. It’s an emergency. It’s my mom.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She’s sick. She’s gonna have the surgery, tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope she’s okay.” I touched his shoulder because I knew how he missed her.

  “They think it might be cancer.”

  “Oh, man, fuck, I hope not. But the kind of money I got won’t do nothing for cancer bills.”

  “Not that.” He grabbed my sleeve. “I need to be there. I gotta see her. Pops says she could die.”

  “Did you get a compassionate exemption?” I’d looked up the info and sent him some links back before I’d shut off my phone.

  “Fuck,
no. My PO said no way.” His face twisted. “If she dies, I might get exemption for the funeral. Maybe.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I don’t fucking care? Right? I’m going. With the holidays, I don’t gotta check in with my PO for nine days. I’m gonna go see her.”

  “You need gas money?” That I could swing. I wasn’t going to tell him how big a risk he was taking leaving the state, running a chance of ending up back inside. If it’d been Mrs. L out in L.A., I’d have done the same. I tasted acid in my throat. I missed the chance to say goodbye. “I can spare a bit.”

  “I’d never make it before they start surgery. I have to fly.”

  “At Christmas? You’re not going to find a fucking flight.”

  “I have one. Red-eye tonight out of Minneapolis with three fucking stops.” He jerked his chin up. “Johnnie let me put it on his debit card. I paid him half of it already. But if I don’t pay him back the other half, he’s gonna make me cancel the ticket. I got just three hours left before it’s non-refundable.”

  “How much are you short?”

  He ducked his head. “Eight hundred.”

  “Eight fucking what?”

  “It’s the holidays. I was lucky to get anything.”

  “Have Johnny let it ride till you can pay him back.”

  “I can’t. It’s debit, not credit. He says his mortgage payment’s gonna bounce.”

  “Fuck.”

  “You owe me.” Leon’s eyes bored into mine. “I ain’t never called in that debt. I’m calling it now.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Irregular tiles bit into my sore knees. The fingers on my neck bit deep into my flesh. Rock’s voice was low and icy. “Harry ain’t here. No one’s gonna save you this time.” The two guys beside him muttered an agreement. We all jumped when a light voice said, “Hey? Wassup? You okay, Don?”

  The new kid stood in the doorway, dark eyes wide. Before he could turn to run, Rock said, “Earl, grab ’im.”

  In their moment of distraction, I ducked out from under Rock’s hand and rolled. He lunged at me and missed, and I came up scrambling, dodging, bolting the other way. I heard the new kid yelp behind me, but I didn’t look back, and I was faster on my feet than Rock.