by Sean Michael
Bird began to nip his way along Billy's jaw, headed down to where he'd started this whole thing -- those bruised and abused nipples, one hand undid the snap on the cock ring and wrapped around the solid column of heat.
"Bird!" The splash of wet heat was immediate; Billy's ass clenched around him, squeezed him.
Moaning, he thrust a few more times, making Billy shudder and shake, making his own balls tighten and shoot hard. Billy moaned low and wrapped around him, relaxed beneath him.
He hated pulling out, but they were in an awkward position so he did, letting Billy's legs go. That let him collapse onto Billy, all that warm, bruised skin between him and the mattress. Felt good. Billy always felt good.
Billy snuggled right into him, snuffling and grunting a bit.
"Better?" he asked, stroking his lover, just touching the marks now, not trying to stimulate them.
"Mmm... Yes. Yes. Love you." Billy nuzzled. "So good to me."
"Yeah? Well you make me happy and I love you, why wouldn't I be good to you?" He shifted off Billy, wrapped around his lover, and pulled up the blankets.
Billy didn't answer, just curled in with a sated sigh.
It wasn't what he'd planned, but it was them and it was good and that was all he needed.
***
Billy climbed the stairs, whistling under his breath, briefcase swinging. The Christmas lights were twinkling madly and the DA's office was closed until the twenty seventh. Life was good. There was a light up Santa on the door, its nose red and blinking. That was new. And funny as fuck. Billy started laughing, tickled as shit as he unlocked the door. "Where the hell did you get that, Bird?"
His lover cackled. "I knew you'd like it!" Bird came up to him, wrapped those big arms around him.
"It's amazing." He pushed up into a deep, hard kiss, tasting chocolate and peppermint and whiskey.
Bird's hand slid down his back to his ass, squeezed one cheek hard. "Welcome home, babe."
"Merry Christmas, Johnson." He leaned into all those muscles, as his briefcase dropped to the floor.
"Merry Christmas." Bird's fingers slid over a bruise on his neck. "You really home for three whole days?"
"Four." He stretched and lifted his chin.
"Oh, Billy. Four?" Johnson laughed and picked him up off the floor in a bear hug. "Come on. That deserves celebrating and I feel like playing connect the dots."
"Four days. I imagine I'll look like a leper by the end of it." If he was lucky.
"We can hope." His briefcase was left where it had fallen as Johnson dragged him off toward the bedroom.
"We can do more than hope, man."
"Yeah, I know." Beaming at him, Bird started stripping him, fingers pressing over the marks that decorated his skin. "I know."
The new job -- although it had long hours and tough days -- was a huge improvement, leaving them time to play, to fuck, hell, just to hang out.
It let him have a life.
Johnson's fingers tugged at his shirt buttons, brought him back to the here and now. Just like they always had.
Merry fucking Christmas to them and... Bird's fingers tugged again.
Yeah.
Life was good.
Life was ready very fucking good.
Bruised 3: Combustion
Copyright © 2008 by Sean Michael
ISBN: 978-1-60370-544-2, 1-60370-544-9
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680
Printed in the United States of America.
Torquere Press, Inc.: Single Shot electronic edition / November 2008
Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680