by Sean Michael
Again and again, he was back at the piano, tweaking the songs he'd written, singing them until he felt like he was doing it in his sleep. Today was no different and when he couldn't play for another minute he went out, despite the rain and the chill in the air, wandering around the place, kicking at the stones he found.
Finally he ran smack-dab into Scotty, who looked at him with sad, sure eyes. "It's time for you to go, honey. You're ready."
He sighed and leaned into Scotty's strength. "I know. I need to get this album recorded. I can feel it in my blood. But I don't want to leave."
"There will always be a place for you here, Dee. I'm not going anywhere."
"I was hoping you'd say that, because I'll be back."
His contract was up after this album and he figured after that he'd maybe earned the right to be his own man--put out the albums he wanted as he had them ready and maybe do a little touring, but nothing that took him away for long.
"Good. I'll miss you." Scotty kissed him, the touch slow and lingering. "But you have to share your music."
"I do." And Scotty understood that--understood him in a way no one ever had. "Come to bed with me one last time before I go?"
"No. No more last times for me."
"What?" He took a step back, searching Scotty's eyes. "You don't want to?"
"I want you, but I don't want a last time, you get it? I want. I mean, I need to know that." Scott sighed, rubbed his forehead.
"Oh. Hey. Scotty." He waited until Scott's eyes met his. "I'm coming back, yeah? I know these songs inside and out, it's not going to take me more than a week or two to lay down the tracks and then it'll take them a few weeks to get any sort of tour set up and I'm spending the intervening time here." He kissed Scott hard. "I need this place, Scotty. I need you."
Scott looked at him, then a tension he hadn't even seen dissolved. "It's yours. I'm yours."
Of course it was, he had a key, half of the closet. It was theirs, now. Home.
All he had to do was come back.
Epilogue
The place was lit up bright enough that someone could see it from space. Scott whistled as he carried a tray of hot chocolate and cookies into the front room, nudging the dogs out of the way.
"O Holy Night" slid into "All I Want For Christmas Is You", just like that and Scott laughed, Drake's eyes smiling over at him. God, Dee was a beautiful man.
He'd come home two days ago after nearly seven months on the road, and spent most of those two days sleeping hard. But he was awake now, cell phone turned off and tucked away in a drawer, the heavy bags under his eyes almost gone.
The song trailed away and Dee stood, stretched, letting him see a bit of belly as Dee's sweater rode high.
"That smells like heaven, Scotty." Drake's gaze slid up from his feet all the way to meet his eyes again, making him think Dee maybe wasn't thinking about chocolate or cookies.
Oh. Oh, hell yeah. He let his thighs part, let Dee know that he was feeling it, feeling them. "You're looking fine, honey."
"And you are a sight for damn sore eyes." Smiling wide, Dee took the tray from him and put it on the coffee table. "I was so tired when I got back the other day--did I get a proper hello?"
"No. You let me run you through the shower and then hold you in our bed." It had been good, really, holding Dee.
"Well, then, I think you ought to do me right--just so I know I'm welcome." Dee's eyes twinkled at him
"Spoiled rock star." Spoiled rock star with a new number one album.
Scott stepped up close, drew their lips together, kissing Drake like he'd been needing to for the weeks since Drake had flown him to Chicago for his birthday and a long weekend in the fanciest hotel he'd ever seen. That low, desperate sound came from Dee, the man's arms circling him and tugging him in nice and hard against Dee's body as Dee opened right up for his kiss.
They rocked together, one of his legs wrapping around Dee's hip, bringing their cocks together. One of Dee's hands found his ass and squeezed nice and hard, the other slid between them to rub at his nipples. He groaned, teeth grabbing Dee's bottom lip, tugging hard. More.
"Oh, God. I haven't tasted you in too long." Dee tugged at his sweater, pulling it up over his head along with his T-shirt.
"You haven't tasted. Haven't touched. Haven't spread me out and fucked me."
Groaning, Dee started on his belt, fingers nearly ripping it off him. "Gonna. Gonna do that right now, Scotty."
"Promise?" He nodded, working Drake's clothes off, needing it. Needing Dee.
"Fuck, yes." Dee's mouth wrapped around his neck, tugging up a mark.
"Shit. Yours. Want you, honey." Words poured from him, his need huge.
Dee moaned and whimpered, sounding just as needy as he was. Long fingers tugged at his ass and pulled him back toward the sofa. Scott went easy, straddling Dee's thighs, cock hard as hell. Fingers warm and eager, Dee stripped his T-shirt and sweater up over his head, and then that mouth found one of his nipples, licking and sucking like Dee was a starving man.
"More." He held Dee close, shuddering as he felt Dee start humming, singing to him, making music on his skin.
Dee moved to his other nipple, hands sliding on his skin, pushing into his jeans to grab at his ass, making the front of them squeeze him hard. That got him busy, his fingers working Dee's shirt open, his jeans. Anything to get them both to bare skin. Dee helped, sort of, ass lifting for him as he pushed the jeans down, and it was Dee's fingers that opened his jeans, getting them down over his hips along with his boxers.
They both kind of got stuck at that point though and Dee suddenly stood, bringing him up as well, laughing as they were finally able to push the damn pants down and off. Dee's smile was happy and horny and all fucking his. He pushed right into Dee's arms, moaning as their skin slapped together.
Dee's mouth met his, that smile against his lips for a few moments before pressing turned into kissing, Drake's tongue hot, and eager. They rubbed together, his cock catching on Dee's hip, and sliding against the hard heat of Dee's cock.
"God. Love." Dee's fingers were back on his ass, squeezing and tugging him in closer.
"Uh-huh. Want to ride you, honey. Want to feel you balls-deep inside me."
"God. Yes." Dee nodded, falling back onto the couch and bringing him down as well. He landed hard against Dee's body, long fingers sliding down to explore his crack.
Scott rolled his hips, begging for more of the touch as his cock slid and spread wet kisses on Dee's belly.
Dee's fingers found his hole, touching and pressing against it. "Scotty. Where's the slick?"
"Uh..." Lube. Lube. He grabbed Dee's wrist and brought those fingers up to his lips, sucking and wetting.
Dee's mouth went slack, a low grown sounding, as Dee focused on his lips. "God. Sexy."
Scott slowed, giving Dee a show, letting this rile them both up. Oh yeah, that noise that sounded as if it had been pulled up from Dee's toes was worth every second of delay. Each lick and suck earned him another noise, Dee's breath beginning to pant out of him.
Finally--finally--he let Dee's fingers slide from his lips with a pop. "Come on, now. Need."
"I know," Dee ground out, fingers reaching behind him and two pushing against his hole, sliding around it, pushing again. And then just like that they were inside him.
Scott's head slammed back so fast he damn near hurt himself. Oh, shit. Yeah. Yeah, please. Goddamn. Dee's fingers spread and pushed, stretching him quickly, the burn so damn good, full of promise.
"You, now. Your cock." He shifted, demanding. Now.
"Sure that was enough?" Dee asked, even as his fingers slid away and Dee's hands wrapped around his hips, tugging him into place.
"I'm sure." It burned and stretched, but that heavy cock was just what he needed, just what he wanted.
Dee's eyes sort of rolled back into his head as his cock slid deep, but then they snapped open again, Dee's smile a little wild, and bright in his face. "Scotty." His name was a song, D
ee starting to hump up into him.
"Yeah. Yeah, honey. Welcome home." They laughed together as he leaned down, taking a hard, deep kiss.
Their mouths clung together, Dee's arms wrapped around his back, and he shifted so that Dee's cock brushed past his gland, and then again as Dee's hips rolled. His eyes went wide, body rocking, keeping Dee's prick right there.
"Yeah. Scotty. Oh, damn. That's." The words came, jerky and hoarse, Dee biting at his lower lip.
"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Don't stop."
"Never," grunted Drake, hands holding him tighter, bringing him down harder.
Their bodies slammed together noisily, breath panting from them both, the old couch starting to rock with their movements.
"Fuck. Love. Dee. I..." Oh, yeah. Babbling.
Dee just nodded, eyes holding his, head bobbing in time to their movements. Then Dee bit his lip, a soft whimper passing his lips--it wasn't going to be long. He nodded, moving faster, ass squeezing tight.
Eyes going wide, Dee gasped and one hand made a grab at his cock, wrapping tightly around it and pulling on him. "Come on, Scotty. Come on."
Scott groaned, hips jerking, seed pouring out of him.
"Scott..." Dee groaned, hips bucking up hard, filling him with heat.
Panting, Dee leaned their foreheads together.
"Hey. Hey, honey. Merry Christmas."
Dee laughed, kissing him. "Yeah, Scotty. Merry Christmas. Love you, yeah?"
"Love you." Home. His Dee was home.
"Good." Dee's arms held him, head resting on his shoulder. "You should know. Your lover is now an unemployed bum."
"Unemployed?" He stroked Dee's hair, smoothing it out. "You didn't renew your contract?"
"Nope. I figured they'd had enough of my soul. Which sounds cheesy and melodramatic. Let's say I was tired of dancing to their tune."
"You'll write music, honey. You'll write and be happy. It'll work."
"I hear there're some indie labels out there that treat their artists really well." Dee shrugged. "Hell, it's not like I need the money. You think you can put up with me hanging around here a little more?"
"I think that you belong here. With me. At home. Your home."
Dee shook his head. "No, Scotty, not my home. Our home."
"Yeah. Yeah. Our home." Oh, God. Yes. "Merry Christmas to us."
Dee just laughed, face happy and bright.
Oh yeah, Merry damn Christmas to them.
About The Author
Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to Chicago.
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, Sean is currently attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate-spinning and soap-carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.
To learn more about Sean, please visit: www.seanmichaelwrites.com.
* * * *
Don't miss Blue Collar, by Sean Michael,
available at AmberQuill.com!
Kendall Webber is deep in the closet. Between working as a mechanic in a garage, having served in the army during the era of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, and being raised by a fundamentalist-preacher stepfather who sent him to summer camps to make him straight, he's learned to hide his sexuality from absolutely everyone.
Still, when a tall, dark, and handsome stud named Barton Willis III roars into the garage in his vintage Mustang, Kendall can't help but look admiringly and longingly at the man, just a little. And when the flirtatious Barton not only looks back but eagerly invites him to explore his hidden desires, Kendall's whole world is turned upside-down.
Now, the question remains...can Barton help Kendall let go of the past and the attitudes he's had, literally, beaten into him?
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