Finders Keepers

by N. R. Walker

  “Today? Or did you want to wait until we’re glued together and we have to shower as conjoined twins?”

  I chuckled. “Yes, today.”

  He waited, and I still made no attempt at moving. He grinned. “Well, the shower won’t come to us.”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I just don’t know how keen I am to actually get up right now.”

  He grinned. “Are you ticklish?”

  I gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Then he laughed. “Nope.” Then with a ninja-like manoeuvre, he rolled us over and slowly unstuck our bellies. He leant back on his knees, took his half-limp dick in his hand, and made a show of tucking himself back into his briefs.

  Cheeky bastard.

  Then with a smirk, he looked down at where my undies were still pulled down. “You have the sexiest dick I think I’ve ever seen.” Then he pouted. “It’d be a shame to hide it in your jocks.”

  “Then take them off,” I suggested.

  He grinned like a kid on Christmas morning and whipped my briefs down my legs and off over my feet. He threw them somewhere and made another show of inspecting every inch of my body. “That’s much better.” He bit his lip and finally met my eyes. “You have a really hot body. I suppose you get told that all the time?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  He made a face that was half-disbelieving, half-crazy. “Jesus. Your chest has the perfect amount of hair. Your stomach is flat but doesn’t look like a hot cross bun, your thighs are… God, I bet you can hold me up against a wall for hours with those thighs.” I laughed and he grinned. “And your face.” He pretended to fan his. “Don’t even get me started on your dick.”

  I looked at him in his undies, resting back on his haunches on his bed. His long thighs were thin, his hips, his lean torso covered with a spattering of dark hair that ran from his chest down to his navel. He was lean but strong, his jaw could cut glass, his cheekbones were high, his dark hair flopped down into his eyes. His fingers were long and thin, and I would have thought they might be dainty if I didn’t know how strong they were.

  If there was a checklist of traits I was attracted to, he ticked every single box.

  I sat up and took his face between my hands. “You’re incredible,” I said before pulling him in for a kiss.

  He hummed happily, then rolled off the bed. “Shower together or separate?”

  I followed him to the door. “How big’s your shower?”

  “Not huge.” He opened the bedroom door and stuck his head out, then quickly pulled back. “He’s still asleep,” he whispered. Then he snatched up my hand and snuck me across the hall to the bathroom. I glanced to the couch to find Wicket still curled in a little fluffy ball of sleeping cuteness.

  Griffin quietly latched the door closed and rewarded me with a huge smile. “See? It’s not real big, but I’m thinking that won’t be a problem.”

  He looked down at my dick and it jerked as my mind imagined us being naked and wet, pressed up against each other.

  He chuckled. “Didn’t think so.”

  Then he turned around, pulled the glass door open, and turned the shower taps on. It was an older style square shower and it was going to be a tight squeeze…

  Then Griffin took his underpants off. His long cock hung, half-hard and uncut, and my dick started to fill again. I had the feeling it was going to be a constant thing around Griffin. He laughed and waggled his eyebrows as he stepped into the shower, wetting first his hair and then scrubbing his hand over his stomach and chest.

  God, he looked even better wet.

  I stepped in and shut the door. The cold glass on my arse cooled my jets a little, so to speak. But then Griffin shuffled around to let me under the spray. “Your turn.”

  I let my head fall back and closed my eyes as the water coursed over me. Then, soapy hands were on my stomach and chest, cleaning the mess off me. I brought my head forward, looked up into his eyes, and stood on my toes so I could kiss him. I wobbled a little and he showed some mercy and pushed me against the shower wall. Then, lifting my chin, he kissed me instead. It really was much easier.

  I’d been with guys who were taller than me before, and it had never been an issue. More a logistics problem that made getting creative fun. The fact Griffin had no problem in leading or being forthright, demanding even, helped a lot.

  Before we could get too carried away, he slowed the kiss and pulled away. “Damn,” he whispered.

  “Hmmm. Exactly.”

  He groaned and stepped back as far as he could. “I should get out now,” he said, opening the door.

  I shut the water off and he handed me a towel. We dried off and I ignored my lengthening dick. Surely it could mind its manners for another hour or two. With our towels tied off around our waists, Griffin opened the door, and sitting there like a parent busting their kids was Wicket.

  “Oh,” Griffin said, surprised. “Did you hear the shower going?”

  Wicket looked up at us like he knew damn well what we’d been doing. I laughed. “Just give us a minute.”

  I picked up my overnight bag and took out my pyjama boxers and a T-shirt. Griffin wore longer sleep pants but forewent the shirt. I didn’t mind, not one bit.

  “Are you sure it’s okay if I stay?” I asked. It was late, but it wasn’t that late. If I left now, I could be home by midnight.

  He took my wet towel. “Of course it’s fine. Stay the whole weekend if you like. We can do something fun tomorrow. Go for a hike or to the beach. Go up to Noosa, even. I don’t mind.”

  “Sounds good.” It sounded better than good. It sounded perfect, actually, but I didn’t want to act too keen.

  “And if you want to go home at some point, that’s okay too. No pressure.” He shrugged. “I’d prefer you to leave at some point than get sick of me. You just have to say.”

  I huffed at that because it was utterly ridiculous. “I can’t see that happening. But, just so you know, I will have to be home by Tuesday afternoon. You know, laundry, groceries. That kind of thing.”

  “Ugh, yeah. Me too.”

  Wicket jumped up on the bed and sniffed around. I laughed. “He’s probably trying to figure out why he can smell me on your bed.” I scooped him up off the bed and said, “Come on, last pee-break, then it’s sleep time for you.” I looked at Griffin. “I’ll just take him downstairs. Won’t be long.”

  Griffin smiled. “I’ll brush my teeth.”

  I stood on the third step from the bottom and waited for Wicket to do his business, and by the time we were back upstairs, Griffin was done in the bathroom. “Can I get you a drink or anything?” he asked.

  “Actually, a water’d be great. I’ll just brush my teeth too.” Wicket was already back in his favourite spot on Griffin’s couch, so I took my time getting my toiletries bag and brushing my teeth. Sure, it was okay if I stayed the night, but we hadn’t exactly discussed sleeping arrangements.

  I came back out to find the lights off, except for a soft glow in the bedroom. I stood in the doorway just as Griffin was straightening the bedcovers from our earlier romp. A bedside lamp cast a muted light across the room, making his skin look even paler, his hair even darker. I couldn’t help but stand and watch for a second, then he reached out and pulled the top cover back. “So? Left side okay?”

  Relief, excitement, and something warm and lovely flooded through me. “Very okay.”

  I slid into bed as he did. He pulled the covers to our waists and we settled down, lying on our sides, facing each other. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said softly.

  “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  He leaned back and turned the light off, casting the room into monochrome. Then his warm fingers found mine, and he held my hand as we fell asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Griffin

  Waking up with someone in my bed felt nice. Waking up and realising it was Dane in my bed felt fucking amazing.

  Sunlight framed the pulled curtain, so I grabbed my ph
one from my bedside to check the time. It was seven thirty. Not wanting to wake Dane, I slipped out of bed and opened the bedroom door as quietly as I could. Wicket met me at the door, sitting there with that same judgey ‘what are you doing with my daddy’ look to his cute little face that he had the night before.

  I stepped into the hall and closed the door behind me. “Come on,” I whispered to him. “I’ll take you out.”

  I opened the door and Wicket trotted down the stairs. I walked halfway down and sat on a step, waiting for him to do this thing. He peed and sniffed and wandered for a full five minutes and I spent every second squinting, trying to get used to the blinding sunlight. When I’d had enough, I went back inside, leaving my door open so Wicket could come and go as he pleased.

  I had no clue what Dane preferred for breakfast, but I started with coffee and toast, thinking that was a standard for most. When the toast was done, Wicket came scooting back inside. “Oh, I see how it is,” I said to him, sneaking him a bit of buttered crust. “You only want me if there’s toast involved.”

  “Amongst other things,” a croaky voice said behind me.

  I turned to see Dane, all sleep-crumpled and sexy as hell, standing there in his PJs. His hair was a mess, he had scruff, one eye wasn’t opening too well, and there was a crease down the side of his cheek. He’d never looked sexier.

  “Good morning,” I said cheerfully.

  “Morning.” He swallowed hard and bent over to give Wicket a scratch and nodded toward the open door. “Did you let him out already?”

  “Yep.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks.”

  It was pretty clear to see that Dane wasn’t a morning person. He was still half asleep. “Here, have some toast.” I handed him a slice. “It’s just got butter, nothing else. How do you have your coffee?”

  “Strong, milk, no sugar.” He scrunched up his face, then shook his head, trying to wake up. “Thank you.”

  I chuckled as I made our coffees. “Does it take you a few minutes to wake up every morning?”

  He chewed his mouthful of toast and nodded. “Um, yeah. Sorry.”

  I handed him a mug of coffee. “This should help.”

  He took it, sipped it, and sighed. “That’s really good. Thank you.”

  I popped some more bread into the toaster. “You’re welcome.”

  “Are you always so awake first thing?”

  “Yep. I wake up ready to go.”

  He sipped his coffee again and ate more toast, but a smile lurked at his lips. “Is that so?”

  I had to think about what I said. “Well, that too. But you were asleep.”

  “For future reference, you have my full permission to wake me if you need to. I won’t mind one bit.”

  I sipped my coffee. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He smiled behind his mug. “Well, I’m awake now. What plans did you have for me today?”

  The way he asked was laced with innuendo. I looked down at his pyjama bottoms to find a definite protruding half-hard silhouette of his dick, and it made my belly tighten.

  “Breakfast?”

  The toast popped up but I ignored it. He smirked. “Uh, your toast?”

  I licked my lips. “I wasn’t talking about food.”

  He put his coffee down and I grabbed his hand and led him back to the bedroom. I shut the door to keep the dog out and pushed him back onto the bed. He went willingly, with an ‘oh, hell yeah’ smile on his face.

  I pulled his pyjama bottoms off, making his now-hard cock bounce back and smack his navel.

  Oh, hell yeah, indeed.

  I crawled over him, and taking his shaft in one hand, I licked his cockhead.

  He wasn’t smiling now.

  “Oh, fuck.” His head fell back onto the mattress and his hands went to his hair. “God, Griffin.”

  I sucked him into my mouth and he moaned, lifting his hips off the bed. He was so into this. I worked him over, enjoying the way my own cock rubbed against my sleep pants. But as soon as I thought about my own dick, I needed to touch it.

  I slid my right hand down my pants and started to stroke myself while still working on Dane. I sucked him into my mouth, taking him as deep as I could go, and his filthy groan sent me soaring toward my peak.

  I moaned around his dick and he throbbed in my mouth. “Griffin,” he cried, his tone a warning that he was too close.

  I sucked harder, but I pulled off and knelt back before he shot, jerked my own cock harder, and Dane’s groan as he came and the smell of sex sent me over the edge. My cock spilled, shooting streams of come to mix with Dane’s on his belly.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed. “That’s so hot.”

  I fell forward then, utterly spent, and Dane caught me. He was half sitting up and I had my forehead on his shoulder, and thankfully, we didn’t smear any mess between us. It took us a moment to catch our breaths, and not capable of doing much else, all I could do was chuckle.

  Dane ran his fingers through my hair, pulling my head back so he could plant a kiss on my lips. “I think your toast is probably cold.”

  I laughed and climbed off him. He was a mess, but I was unscathed. “I’ll go make some more. You… probably should shower.”

  He stared down at his belly, at the mix of our come, and grinned. “I probably should.”

  I fixed some more toast, made more coffee and had eaten the first two pieces by the time Dane came out, showered and dressed in clean shorts and a slightly crumpled T-shirt, his hair wet and neatly brushed. “Well, you look like a new man,” I said.

  He grinned and took a piece of toast I held out to him. “Thanks.”

  “I need to mow Bernice’s lawn, then I’ll have a shower, then we can head out somewhere,” I suggested.

  “Sounds great.”

  I changed into some old shorts and plucked a T-shirt out of the dirty clothes hamper so I could mow the lawn. Dane sat on the steps up to my place while I lifted the roller door and wheeled out the mower. Wicket sniffed in the garden, none too fazed by the sound of the mower, just merely inconvenienced when I mowed a strip of grass he was intent on sniffing.

  It really didn’t take me long, but when I was almost done, I looked up to find Dane gone. Only to see him now sitting at Bernice’s patio table with her, both of them with a glass in their hands while I worked up a sweat mowing the lawn. They laughed at my expression, then laughed even louder when I flipped them both the bird.

  When I was done, I emptied the clippings into the green waste bin and hosed the mower down, then planted my arse in a chair next to Dane. There was a glass of what looked like orange juice on the table in front of me, a ring of condensation around the base. It looked cold, and when Bernice nodded toward it and said, “Looking at it won’t keep you hydrated,” I downed half of it in one go. Yep, it was OJ.

  “It’s hot already,” I said.

  Dane gave me a smile. “We can hit the beach if you want?”

  I nodded, then finished my juice. “Sounds good. I need to shower and change first though.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay down here while you go do that.”

  He and Bernice looked comfortable enough, and the sly smile she gave me told me that Dane was about to receive an inquisition.

  “Thanks for the drink,” I said, putting my empty glass on the table.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  I was halfway up the stairs when I heard Dane say, “Oh, Wicket, don’t roll in that!” and I’m sure he heard me laugh.

  But fifteen minutes later, I was showered and dressed and went back downstairs. Dane and Bernice were still at the patio table, laughing about something, and Wicket had a vivid green smear from his face to his stomach.

  “Ah, here he is,” Dane said. “I was just telling Bernice how I was going to give you surfing lessons one day.”

  I sat beside him, our knees brushing. “And I’ll give you a lesson in patience and humiliation.”

  He chuckled. “It
’s been years since I’ve been on a board, but I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

  I scoffed. “I can barely manage a skateboard.”

  “It’s not quite the same,” Bernice said. “Theoretically, your centre of gravity is different.” We both stared at her and she shrugged. “I can do both.”

  “You can ride a skateboard?” I asked. “I mean, I saw the surfboard in your living room and I assumed it was yours, but a skateboard?”

  Bernice lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know, I skated with the best of them in the late seventies and eighties. Those arseholes at Venice Beach told me girls couldn’t do a frontside 180. So I did a 360 hardflip and shut that fucker up.”

  Dane choked on his drink, and I laughed. I was used to her language, he clearly wasn’t.

  “Sorry to drop the f-bomb on ya like that,” Bernice said, clapping Dane on the back. “But there’s only one sure way of pissing me off, and that’s telling me I can’t do something.” Then she sighed and lifted her left shoulder and let it fall, like a shrug but not, and she looked down at her useless left arm like she resented it for not working like it should. She settled on a frown instead and got to her feet, stacking the empty cups. “If you’re serious about the surfing lesson, I can give you some pointers. Another day though. K and I can take you out and show you how it’s done.”

  “Really?” I asked, my smile widening. “That sounds awesome! Thank you! Let us know when you’re free.”

  She waved me off and went inside, the glass door sliding shut behind her. I gave Dane a nudge. “Was that okay?” I asked quietly. “I mean, you can still give me some lessons but it’ll be pretty cool to have her and K showing us. They’re old, but they’re cool.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s fine. It’ll be fun.” But then he frowned.

  “What’s up?”

  “I can’t place where I know her from.”

  “You should ask her. If she doesn’t want to tell you, she’ll tell you to eff off.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, I suppose she would.”

  “Come on then, let’s go find a beach.”

  He stood up. “This is the Sunshine Coast. It’s all beach.”