by Riley Hart
“Fuck…you’re killing me over here. I just want you inside of me.”
“I’m getting there. You’re always so damned impatient.”
His cheeks flush, but the look in his eyes tells me it’s desire and not embarrassment. After pulling my shirt off my shoulders and dropping it to the floor, I make quick work of the rest of my clothes. Gary’s prick jerks against his stomach, pre-come dripping down to a tasty pool on his abs.
“I want your cock,” he says, eyes intensely on my aching erection.
“Patience. I’m taking a little taste first.” I drop to the floor, my knees pinning his pants beneath me. They still won’t come off with his shoes on. It traps him, the same way his arms are stuck behind his back. A rush of breath hisses out from between Gary’s lips. I wrap my hand around his erection, rub my thumb in the pearl of pre-come at his slit. “You have a nice fucking dick. I might let you use it on me before this is over.”
“Oh fuck,” Gary grits out before I suck his cock to the back of my throat. I palm his balls, play with his heavy sac as he wiggles around on the bed, unable to move much because of the way I’ve imprisoned him.
Pulling off, I say, “I’m really good at giving head. Did I tell you?” before I continue to blow him, run my tongue along his thick, hot shaft. Gary makes those hungry little whimpers that drive me out of my mind as he thrashes more and more beneath me.
There’s nothing I love more than driving someone wild, watching them come undone the way Gary is beneath me.
His dick falls out of my mouth with a pop before I bury my face in his sac. I run my tongue in the crease between his pelvis and his thigh and then trace it down the seam of his balls.
“Get your dick in me now!” Gary begs, still whipping around.
Yeah…yeah. I’m about to blow my fucking load too. I shove to my feet. Jerk his pants and shoes off and then say, “Legs up.” Gary does as he’s told. After sucking on my finger, I lean over him, take his mouth as I push my finger into his tight, little hole.
He says something into my mouth. Greedily I eat every sound as we rut against each other, and I keep fingering his ass.
It’s still not enough, so I jerk away, grab a condom from his drawer, and get it on. After rubbing lube onto my prick, I roughly roll him to his stomach, his legs still hanging over the side of his bed. “This fucking ass,” I tell him as I rub his globes. He pushes back toward me, begging me to take him.
Leaning over, I nip his ear with my teeth before saying, “You don’t bruise easily, right?”
“No…please…do it, Travis. I need you.”
Standing back up, I push his legs open farther with my foot. Put my hands on his ass, and spread his cheeks, my fingers digging into his flesh. His tight hole clenches and damned if I can’t wait to fill it. “I’m gonna watch my cock open your hole.” His body trembles beneath my touch. Letting go of him, I use one of my hands to angle my cock toward his asshole, push my head against his tight ring and watch it loosen for me, watch it let me inside.
“Oh fuck. Jesus fucking Christ,” Gary mumbles, his hands still behind him.
“Nope. Just me,” I tease.
“You are so going to hell,” he tells me. I don’t answer, just continue to work my way inside.
My balls nearly let loose the second I’m surrounded by all the heat. I promised him a hard fuck, and I intend to make good on that vow, so I grab his ass again to hold him open, tight enough that I could leave marks. Then I pull almost all the way out before thrusting hard again. His whole body jerks, bouncing as I rail him from behind. He has no control, not with the way his hands are trapped in his shirt. I don’t have much longer before the position will be too uncomfortable for him, so I take advantage. He lets out a strangled shout each time I piston my hips.
My balls ache, feel so goddamned full they could explode. “Jesus, this is sexy, Gary. You should see my cock opening you up.” I watch his hole, watch my dick disappear inside. His ass is squeezing me so damn tight, I’m not sure how much longer I can handle it, so I hold him more firmly, pull him closer to the edge of the bed, so he can stand up and bend over it.
I grab hold of his cock, stroke his thick meat as I speed up my thrusts.
His body starts to tremble. “Oh God. Right there, Travis. Right there.” And then a guttural cry rips from the back of his throat as he shoots. I keep fucking, keep stroking his prick, which is now lubed up with his come.
Gary falls onto the bed. I go over on top of him. Let my teeth skin into his shoulder as my own orgasm tears through me.
There’s a drop of sweat running down his neck. I lick it, taste the salt on my tongue before I pull out, ditch the condom, and go straight to work getting his arms out of his shirt. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t move. Once the shirt is undone I toss it to the floor, lift him up and lay him correctly on the bed.
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, hoarse and rough. “That fucking good.”
A smile pulls at my lips as I hit the light and climb into bed. “Scoot your ass over.” He rolls to his side, away from me. I wrap an arm around him like I did the first night when I didn’t know who I was in bed with, my dick right against his addicting ass. “This time, I’m damn sure you know who you’re in bed with.” I made certain of it.
15
Gary
I’m used to falling from the high of my orgasm after coming, but this time, there’s this constant swirling sensation in my chest—one that, at times, climbs even higher. Like my body is celebrating how incredible it felt.
My ass is sore, something I couldn’t be happier about. I enjoy Travis’s arm around me for a moment, but I start to get uneasy about it. This isn’t what we need to be doing if this is just pretend. I pull away and slide off the bed. I put on a fresh pair of boxers from the closet and grab the condom and wrapper off the bed before taking it to the bathroom.
“Why are you ruining my view?” Travis asks from behind me.
“Whatever,” I say. I dispose of the trash and wash my hands before resting my elbows on the marble counter of the sink, taking a much-needed breather. My face is bright red from the experience. My inch of sandy-blond hair points every which way, disheveled from our fucking. The pain in my ass feels like a muscle I worked out too hard at the gym. I love the sensation, though. Peter sure as fuck never made it feel like that. No man has ever made me feel like that. And I know part of what makes it so much fun is that it’s sex without expectations and without needing it to be anything more.
Why did I ever sacrifice this for a relationship?
Travis’ll be leaving soon, I’m sure. He’s not the kind of guy who spends the night unless he’s drunk off his ass, so I figure I’ll take out my contacts while I’m in here so I can crash as soon as he heads out. I remove and store them in the lens case in the top drawer. Then I put on a set of glasses from a case on the counter.
I only started wearing contacts because Peter used to make fun of what a dork I looked like in glasses. I don’t imagine Travis gives a shit. He likes what he sees, and doesn’t seem weird about shit the way Peter always was.
When I head back into the bedroom, Travis is stretched out across the covers, his dick laying across his leg. That big fucking cock that gave me so much pleasure a few minutes ago is semi-hard, and mine is, too. Clearly, he’s enjoying mentally replaying the fuck-fest we had as much as I am.
His eyes widen as he notices me. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
I blush. I know it isn’t from the sex now but from embarrassment. I didn’t figure he’d say anything. Didn’t think he’d care, but now that he’s said something, I’m self-conscious. I remove them. I’ll slip them into the nightstand.
“I normally wear contacts. I just—”
“No, no.” He gets on his knees and approaching me quickly.
“I like it. Very Clark Kent.”
He takes them from my hands and puts them back on my face before scanning me over.
“Clark Kent and Superass.”
I chuckle. “Oh, now, it’s Superass?”
He growls and my dick twitches.
“Yes, it is,” he says. “You should wear these all the time.”
Despite the sincerity in Travis’s eyes and the fact that I know he doesn’t have a reason to lie to me, for some reason, I can’t take him seriously right now.
“Peter fucking hated these. I used to wear them all the time, but he would give me shit. Told me no one wears glasses anymore. I mean, he was right.”
“Fuck that. They’re part of what make you beautiful. Unique.”
Beautiful?
No one’s ever called me beautiful before. I turn from his piercing gaze.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me so that our torsos are flush, his face inches from mine. “Peter sure did a number on you. Guess he was just trying to keep this hot piece of ass all to himself.”
“Not as hot as that young thing he’s got now.” I’m trying to make a joke out of it because all this flattery makes me uneasy.
His hands drift down to my ass, which he cups, gripping securely as though he wants me to know that these cheeks were his less than five minutes ago.
“That little twink doesn’t have anything on you,” he says before his eyes narrow. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Whenever I compliment you, your eyebrow twitches.”
Now I’m really uneasy.
“It’s cute as fuck,” he adds before offering a kiss. It relieves the tension he stirred when he started talking like this.
Once again, I turn away from him.
He glances at the window.
“Hey, you can see my place from here, can’t you?”
“Um…yeah.”
He turns back to me, his right eyebrow raising quickly.
“Oh, someone enjoying the view a little more than he should?”
“You have blinds. If you don’t want anyone to see, you should close them.” I wink. I’m teasing him, but I like that the attention is off me for a moment.
“Such a contradiction,” he mutters.
“What?”
“You didn’t have any problem saying that to me, but I tell you how cute you are, and you get all weird and quiet.”
“Now you’re trying to make me uncomfortable.”
And it’s working.
“Stop being stupid and come here.”
He kisses me, soothing me once again. I’d prefer to just do this. His touch. His caress. His fucking never makes me uneasy.
He slides his hands from my ass, up my back before wrapping his arms around me. He lifts me, pulling me onto the bed. He shifts his body, guiding me onto the covers until we’re lying side by side. When he pulls away, I lie back while he remains on his side, gazing down at me.
He winces before saying, “So tell me about this family of yours.”
“What?” So much for feeling relaxed again.
“I guess these glasses and that shit you were saying about musicals at dinner got me thinking about how little I know my fake boyfriend. You said that you had a sister—”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say so fast and dismissively that I surprise myself, and Travis looks at me like I just shape-shifted in front of him.
“Now I’ve made it weird. It’s nothing. It’s just…”
I might as well tell him. I’ve signed up for a bogus relationship and now to help him with a fucking fundraiser, so he’ll find out sooner or later.
“She’s in prison,” I confess.
“Prison?”
“Yeah. She was always getting into trouble when we were growing up. She had a very…outgoing personality. Very fun and loving and exciting to be around, but she wasn’t the kind of kid that Mom and Dad could control. She would fight with them…a lot. When she was a teenager, that’s when the sneaking out started. The fights about where she was began. And then she started getting into trouble with guys who weren’t the best for her. Got arrested for shoplifting when she was sixteen. Did a little time in juvie and then when she was twenty-one, she was arrested during a drug bust on a meth house that she was at with one of her boyfriends. She got ten years. Now they have a diagnosis, at least. Borderline personality disorder. Well, they go back and forth between that and bipolar disorder. I can’t really say what they think it is this week.”
“Dude, that’s some serious shit.”
“And that’s not even the half of it. Not exactly the best conversation for dinner parties,” I say, reflecting on how many people in my life I haven’t told this to. Reflecting on all the lies I tell to appear normal.
“It’s not too bad for me,” I add. “I only knew her really well when we were kids. She is three years older than me, and when she was old enough to start sneaking out, I didn’t see her too much. She was always trying to get away from our family by then. It was worse seeing what it did to my parents.”
He wears a serious expression like when we were sitting at dinner and he was stressing about whether he was going to win Steven’s approval.
“Your poor parents. A convict and a gay in the family,” he teases.
He’s trying to make light of the situation, but it stirs up yet another sore subject.
“I’m not out to them, so—”
His eyes widen. “What? Really?”
“God, no. My sister was always causing enough trouble as it was. I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. They have enough stress to deal with already.”
His gaze drifts, and it looks like he’s thinking very hard about something. I can’t imagine it’s about my family, though.
“So, I’m assuming you’re out to your family?” I ask.
“They found out the hard way. I fought it for a long time, and then finally, in college, I had my own place. I was like, ‘Fuck it.’ There was no way for my parents to find out, so I worked up the courage to set up a Grindr account. I found this hot frat guy at Tech. Had the biggest fucking cock, too.”
“Bigger than yours?” I ask.
“It was insanely big. Like I don’t think I had reasonable expectations for guys after messing around with him.”
“Oh my God.”
“I invited him over. Soon we were making out on the couch, taking off each other’s clothes. I must not have locked the door or something because I don’t even remember hearing it. Just turning and seeing Mom and Dad standing there, staring at me in horror. Like they were watching me kill someone. My dad lost his shit. He kicked the guy out, and my parents just started going off on me. Said they worked too hard to set me up with a good life for me to fuck it up like that. That what I was doing was wrong. They’re both very Southern Baptist, so they saw that as sin. My dad did, at least. Mom was more concerned about it not fitting the pretty little image she’d worked so hard to construct for our family. They said I needed to do right or end up on the streets. From that moment on, I decided I’d never take another dime from them. That I didn’t need their fucking help. Not if it came with the price of me being someone other than who I really was.”
His jaw is tense, his gaze severe, as though he’s looking back at that time of his life with judgment and contempt.
I’m surprised. I figured he didn’t come from a lot of money, which was why he needed to work so hard to convince Steven to invest in him. I never would have thought he came from money but pulled away from it because his parents were such assholes.
“Sorry,” I say. “That’s a shitty way for your parents to find out.”
“It worked out for the best. I’d rather it have happened like that so I could change my life for the better than to keep on living that lie.”
“Don’t know that you’ve completely given up on lies,” I say.
“True.” His lips twist into his dimple. Then he smirks. “But at least now I get all the dick I want.”
He grabs my cock in my boxers and leans forward. I think he’s about to kiss me, but he licks my lips.
He laughs and leans back, a broad smile stretching across his face.
“On that note, I better head out.”
He rolls off the bed. I sit up as he hunts for his clothes. When he finds his pants and underwear, he slides into them before he approaches me, planting his palms on the mattress. I lean into him, and we kiss again.
He grabs the rest of his clothes and as he finishes tying his shoes, says, “Don’t forget we have a fundraiser to discuss. I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow, Superass.”
16
Travis
I push my thumbs into the shoulder muscles of my last client for the day and try to work out the knot there. Gary and I are supposed to meet at my place this evening to talk about the fundraiser. What a fucking mess. I don’t know how in the hell we got ourselves into this situation, but when I think about it, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.
I obviously enjoy fucking him. To my surprise, I like spending time with him as well.
He’s…a good man. There’s no two ways about it. Agreeing to help me with the fundraiser is fucking huge. He doesn’t have to do that. It’s going above and beyond grabbing a meal together so his ex will see us. I’m not sure many people would go as far.
There’s something endearing about the way he flips from trying to blend into the background to the man begging for my dick. It’s also pretty nice to have a consistent workout buddy. We spent close to two hours at the gym together this morning, and it had been hell to keep my hands off him in the shower. There’s not a doubt in my mind that the feeling was mutual. He’d eaten me alive with his eyes, watched as my dick got hard and then looked like he’d nearly swallowed his tongue when I grabbed myself and nodded toward the back.
“What was that about?” my client asks, and I frown, unsure what he means.
“What?”
“You chuckled. You’ve never spontaneously laughed while massaging me before.”
Huh. I hadn’t even realized I’d done that. “It’s nothing. My…” Oh fuck. What do I call him? I don’t think my client knows Steven or Peter, but you never know. “Gary.” My Gary? Christ, I could have come up with something better than that. “I just remembered something funny he said at the gym this morning. He’s really just getting into working out with a purpose. He makes this funny little whistling sound sometimes when he lifts. I was giving him shit about it today. The harder he tries not to do it, the louder it becomes.”