by Elle Keaton
“Get the stuff we bought yesterday out of the bag, baby. The lube.” They’d already had the condoms-aren’t-necessary conversation, as they’d both been tested at the hospital. Then Miguel had proceeded to nearly make Nate come describing what going bareback felt like.
Nate found the bag in his closet, sitting on top of his dress shoes. Miguel continued to watch him, hot eyes tracking Nate’s movements while Miguel continued to stroke and pump his cock. Nate trembled.
“Okay,” Miguel whispered, “let’s see if we can get it open one-handed. Should have had Otto open it for us yesterday.” Between the two of them they managed to get the bottle open. “Squeeze some into my hand, on my fingers,” Miguel ordered.
If he thought it was hard watching Miguel pump himself, it was nothing compared to seeing his fingers disappear into his ass. The sounds he made… Miguel had to know how turned on Nate was. He was seeping precome without touching himself, just standing there trying to remember to breathe. He tried to focus on other things, like the way the carpet felt under the soles of his bare feet and the whisper of the fan rotating over their head. It wasn’t working.
“Come closer. Come lay on your back, feet flat on the bed, knees up.”
Nate did as he was told, and Miguel crawled over him until he was crouched kneeling over Nate. Having Miguel’s warm body over his own was another level of torture. He already knew they had the chemistry to make each other come without fucking, and Nate had missed Miguel rubbing up against him, missed his warmth, his scent while they were both healing. He shut his eyes.
Warm lips caressed his own, Miguel’s tongue first teasing his lips open and then tangling with his own. Everything felt incredible; his whole body was on fire. Miguel rubbed his smooth chest against Nate’s, letting gravity do most of the work, their erections bumping, grinding against each other; a necessary dance.
After what seemed like hours, Miguel pushed himself up onto his good arm. “Keep your knees up. I’ll hold on, but I’m going to need your help. I’ll tell you when.” Then he positioned himself over Nate’s hard dick and began to lower himself.
“Oh, fuck.” Nate didn’t have any other words to use. The feel of Miguel pushing against him, the tight—almost painful—sensation while Miguel’s hole opened up to take Nate inside… he wasn’t going to last long. And Nate wanted to; he wanted to last forever.
Slowly, inexorably, Miguel worked himself down on Nate so his sac was nestled against Nate’s abs. He’d been quiet, panting and licking his lips as he undulated. Now he stopped, waiting a moment—making Nate insane—before he started moving again.
His good arm was wrapped around Nate’s knee, giving Nate a visual he would never forget, Miguel’s cock bouncing slightly when he moved but so engorged it pressed up against his stomach when he was still. Nate wanted it in his mouth. Everything felt good. He met Miguel’s downward movements with upward thrusts of his own. The tightness, the heat, everything was too much. The spark of impending orgasm along his spine grew so hot that even had he been able, he wouldn’t have wanted to stop.
“I’m, I’m…” Nate’s eyes rolled back in his head, he was so close.
“Please… touch me,” Miguel begged. Nate’s eyes snapped open. Miguel’s green eyes were brilliantly alight, dark hair stuck up in all directions, defying gravity—he was simply the most beautiful person Nate had ever seen. Wordlessly, he grasped Miguel’s erection in his good hand and stroked him. It only took two or three pumps before Miguel clenched around Nate’s cock, ground down harder, and came, jetting his release onto Nate’s stomach and his own.
Nate’s orgasm overtook him as he watched the pleasure unfold across Miguel’s face. He scrabbled at Miguel’s hip, pushing upward into that fucking incredible heat. He could feel his spend sloppy and warm inside his partner, and it made his cock surge in an effort to come more—he felt an almost feral need to rub himself all over Miguel, marking him with his scent.
Miguel pulled off of Nate, collapsing onto his side, his face pressed into Nate’s neck. “That was incredible,” he murmured, his breath tickling Nate’s ear.
Nate automatically put his good arm around Miguel, squeezing him close. “That was fucking incredible.” It was more than that, but he was not a poet and his brain was currently offline.
Next thing he was aware of, Miguel was wiping him down with a warm cloth and covering them both with a sheet. He tried to protest, something about it being the middle of the day, but his words were mangled.
Damn. Nate was going to have to work on his post-coital game; he couldn’t keep passing out every time they had sex. The other side of the bed was empty, but he could hear Miguel moving about in the kitchen or living room. The bedside clock said it was two-thirty in the afternoon. He stretched, intending to get up and see what kind of trouble his partner had gotten into while Nate slept like the dead.
Miguel came into the room carrying a cup of coffee and something tucked under his arm. Nate sat up, letting the sheets fall around his waist, enjoying the way Miguel’s pupils dilated at the sight—it was like having a secret power. Miguel placed the coffee on the nightstand by Nate, then came around and got back into bed. His hair was damp, and he smelled like fresh soap.
“You took a shower?”
“I rinsed. I cannot wait to get this cast off.”
The something under his arm turned out to be the new red box.
“Did Buck tell you about the box?”
“Not much, only that it had been important to you.”
Miguel turned the small box over in his hand, touching the lid gently with his thumb. Nate watched him closely. His lover had a most expressive face.
“The original box was my dream box. I bought it on a whim when I was first on my own. What can I say? It was shiny and red. I used it to remind myself I didn’t want to be where I was; I wanted to travel, to experience a world bigger than the one I knew. Justin knew that.” Miguel looked sheepish. “When we first met, he was actually pretty nice. We fake-planned some dream trips. Anyway,” he shook off the memory, “the point is, it was important. Out of everything I lost, I managed to keep that box. No matter how stupid it sounds, during my darkest hours I could look at it, hold it, and ground myself. But it was always empty. I never put anything inside. It was merely a placeholder.
“This box,” Miguel held the new box up so Nate could see it better, “this box has an actual dream inside it. A dream you helped make come true. Ever since you tried to knock me unconscious at Buck’s wedding, my life has taken a turn I never hoped for.” Nate sputtered, and Miguel grinned and tucked himself closer against Nate’s side.
Nate rushed to explain, “I don’t want to marry you to keep you for myself. I want to marry you to be with you and protect you, to be your anchor. I’ll admit, I’m probably more possessive than I realized before I met you. But it’s not because I want to keep you to myself or control you. It’s because I want to give you the world.”
“Nate,” Miguel stroked Nate’s stubbly cheek with his good hand, “you’ve already given me the world, and it’s bigger than I ever knew.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Miguel
Miguel tiptoed out to the living room. Not that he had to worry about keeping quiet; Nate slept so deeply Miguel wondered what it would take to wake him up before morning. The man clearly had some kind of internal alarm system, though, because he woke at 5:45 like clockwork, rising like the undead to stumble into the bathroom. After about five minutes of splashing and grumbling, he would emerge awake and ready to go.
Their house was quiet but not fully dark. Moonlight flooded through the picture window, painting the hardwood floors and living room furniture with myriad shadows and light. They’d left the shade open before they went to bed, and now the August full moon’s light was streaming inside. An uninvited but not unwelcome guest.
He flopped onto the couch by the window with a whump and stared out into the canopy of the locust tree in the backyard. The moonlight created complex and mysterio
us shadows in the leaves. A bat swooped across the yard, chasing late-night dinner. The house creaked as the outdoor temperature cooled.
Another sound reached his ears. Turning his head to see, he raised his eyebrows at the sight of Nate shuffling into the room.
“What are you doing awake?” They may have only been together officially for two months or so, but Miguel knew Nate did not wake in the middle of the night.
“I rolled over and you weren’t there.” Nate pouted.
Miguel scooted into the back of the couch, then patted the vacant spot for Nate. Spooning with Nate had become one of Miguel’s favorite activities that didn’t involve sex.
“I couldn’t stay asleep; my brain was going a million miles an hour.” He tucked his arms around Nate. “I can’t believe how bright the moon is tonight.”
“It’s a full moon,” Nate grumbled. “Happens once a month.”
“Is somebody grouchy?”
“Hmph.” Yes, somebody was grouchy.
“We’re getting married tomorrow—well, today.”
There would be no elaborate wedding. Miguel wasn’t the only one who didn’t want one; Nate was against them on general principle. With any luck the whole shebang would be done in fifteen minutes. But… since Miguel had said yes, Nate had argued there was no reason for them to wait to tie the knot. Why wait when they both knew what they wanted? Miguel hadn’t put up too much of a fight. He hadn’t actually been able to think of a serious argument against getting married right away. Mostly he’d rolled his eyes and teased Nate for once again jumping into something the way Adam Klay was constantly accusing him of. But he had made Nate wait a few weeks.
Miguel admired, loved, craved Nate’s certainty, but he needed a moment to think and breathe even if he knew he wouldn’t change his mind about getting married. Nate was… solid and real. The most steadfast person he’d met, even more than Buck. Fearless in his commitment. He never faltered. Nate had told Miguel he thought of him as a river; well, Nate was his rock, solid and sure under the heavy current. Miguel knew that was what made Nate an excellent agent, even if his impulsive tendencies did drive Klay up the wall. Nate had received a warning from his team leader and, much to his chagrin, more online training.
Nate called city hall as soon as Miguel gave him the green light and made an appointment at the courthouse. Then he called his sister. Miguel had kissed the back of Nate’s neck while Nate spoke, breathing in his scent to keep himself from becoming angry. He reminded himself he had no idea what was happening in Melody Richardson’s head. Miguel hadn’t grown up in their family. He also reminded himself that their loss was his gain and that Nate didn’t seem particularly upset by her tepid reaction. Nate had commented that knowing he truly had been an outsider in that family made sense to him. It explained a lot about how he’d grown up.
“Mel has her own stuff to figure out.”
Anger wasn’t something Miguel was used to feeling. Normally he let things go. It was easier and healthier. But Nate’s family really took the cake. It almost made Miguel feel lucky. He may have been on his own for the most part, but he never had to negotiate a battlefield of emotional land mines.
“I thought I’d let her know. Mel and I were close once.” Nate shrugged off the rejection. “She didn’t hang up on me. I don’t know what’s going on in her head, and I’m not going to worry about it.”
Nate twisted in his arms so he was facing Miguel, very much in danger of falling off the couch. “We’re getting married. I am so excited.”
“We are.”
Nate grinned and leaned in, placing a possessive kiss on Miguel’s lips. Reflexively, Miguel tightened his arms around Nate, acting for once as the anchor to keep Nate from falling.
They could do this thing. They could be both rock and river for each other. Together they would be each other’s home and family. Together they would carve a path through this thing called life.
After renegotiating body space on the couch, Miguel the small spoon this time, Nate claimed Miguel again, wrapping his good arm tightly around Miguel’s waist, resting his chin against Miguel’s shoulder. Together they watched the sky lighten as the sun came up over Skagit. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, birds were chirping morning songs about food and weather, a dog barked, a car door slammed somewhere up the street. Miguel shivered, and Nate squeezed him tighter, understanding Miguel was taking everything in: the new day, the new life, Nate, everything. Family. His to keep.
End
Books by Elle Keaton
The Accidental Roots Series:
Storm Season
No Pressure
Spring Break
As Sure as the Sun
Available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.