Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon (Colors of Love Book 4)

by V. L. Locey

  “Oh damn, sorry, Kye. How about I bring dinner to you and Dunny?”

  Well goodness me. A hot lick of emotion and desire burst to life inside me. “That’s damn nice of you. Sounds good. I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Family comes first. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes or so.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  I hung up, eyed the patio, and then had me a fine old idea. In no time I carted the small corner table and three odd chairs out to the porch. Then I rooted around for candles and something to serve as a tablecloth. I dug an old gauzy shawl out of a trunk in the closet and tossed that over the round table. Then I carted the old radio in the kitchen window outside. The batteries were dead so a quick jog back to Dunny’s took place. With four D cells in hand, I raced back to the studio, replaced the batteries, and found the oldies station Dunny enjoyed. And when I say oldies, I mean oldies. Not the Beatles or the Stones, but Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey oldies.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Just enjoy the music, okay?” I asked Dunny. He nodded and asked about the goose. I told him she was sleeping down by the pond. He said she needed a coop to go into at night, which yeah, she probably did but that was lower on the to-do list. A quick shower, no shave, and a leap into clean underwear, shorts, and a tank top found me ready to enjoy a meal with Davy and Dunny. When I stepped out into the main room, there stood Davy, looking fucking gorgeous in tan slacks, a white shirt, and shiny sandals. Very summery casual.

  “Damn, man, you look good enough to eat,” I said in lieu of hello. He rolled his eyes. Dunny, it seemed, was already out on the patio. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

  “Yeah, he toddled out there as soon as he heard I’d brought Italian. Said something about Sophia Loren being a total fox.”

  “Can’t say he isn’t right,” I tossed out, my gaze staying on him for the longest time. “Can I kiss you? I really want to.”

  I caught the flicker of lust in his gaze before he tamped it down. “I think we need to talk, lay down some guidelines and figure out where we are and where we’re going before we get into anything else physical, don’t you?”

  “Uhm no, but if you want to talk first, then talk we shall do. Let’s go eat before Dunny gobbles down all the breadsticks.” I touched his back as he moved past me. Just a subtle thing, that brush of my fingers on his lower back, but enough to let him know that I was here, and I was tactile deprived.

  We sat down and began opening up different aluminum pans. One had alfredo, one lasagna, and one spaghetti. Dunny wanted the lasagna, and Davy wanted the alfredo, so I took the spaghetti and meat sauce. Davy had also brought wine, so we cracked that open and sipped a nice light white from red Dixie cups. Night had settled in and a fat orange moon was creeping up into the sky so bright it was that the stars seemed dulled.

  “Look at that moon,” I said as I washed down my last bite with some wine.

  “Did you know the reason for that color is because of the scattering of light through the atmosphere?” Davy asked as he forked up another bite of his meal.

  “I did not know that,” I replied. I was thoroughly enjoying the wine, the night, the food, and the company. When I glanced over at Dunny, I caught him napping. Davy had as well. “Looks like he’s down for the count.”

  Davy checked his watch. “Well, it is nearly ten.”

  “An hour past his bedtime. Let me get him tucked in, and I’ll be back then we can talk, okay?”

  “Sure.” He returned to his meal, slowest eater in Maine I always called him. I roused Dunny, got a hand under his elbow and escorted him back up to his house. He was pretty exhausted so conversation was slow. Once he was in bed he dozed right off. I turned off the lamp beside his bed, patted his skinny arm, and snuck back down the stairs and out into the night. I could hear those old jive tunes floating up to me. The moon had crept up higher in the sky, the pumpkin coloring waning a bit. Following the sounds of a big band and the lure of the only man I’d really ever loved, I slid around the side of the studio. He was sipping his wine.

  “Dance with me,” I said as I stepped up onto the small porch. He arched an eyebrow. “Come on, dance with me.”

  He sighed as if my request were a large burden. Then he placed his glass to the crowded table, stood, and took my hand. We only took a few steps from the porch, just enough to give us a nice, unobstructed view of that fat old moon. The upbeat tune ended and a slow one called “Stardust” by Glenn Miller, according to the disc jockey, began to play. It really was a perfect kind of song to slow dance to with a beautiful man.

  He slid close and I wrapped him in a loose embrace, one arm around his waist, one hand holding his. His nose brushed my neck. I breathed in cool summer air and his woodsy, lime and apple aftershave. My eyes drifted shut as we moved slowly back and forth.

  “This is ridiculously romantic,” he whispered, his thighs brushing mine as we moved to the music. Every so often our stomachs would rub sending shockwaves to my fingers and toes. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you planned it.”

  “You give me far too much credit. I’m about as unromantic a man as God ever created. You should know that.”

  “I know nothing about you, not really.” I drew back a bit to look at him in surprise.

  “You know me better than any other person on this planet.” A small brown bat flew past, his tiny winged form silhouetted against the orange moon.

  “No, I know the child Kye, and the teen Kye. I have no idea what the adult Kye is like and don’t think to argue and tell me teen Kye and adult Kye are one and the same. They’re not. They can’t be, and therein lies the biggest problem I’m having with us right now.”

  I drew in a long breath, exhaled through my nose, and kissed him softly. He didn’t kiss me back with fire, but he did soften his lips a bit.

  “What do you want to know about adult Kye? He played hockey. He hid his sexuality. He lived his life wrapped in a lie that kept him so manacled to his untruth that he was afraid to come back home and see the man he craved above all else because someone might see that affection he had for this man and out him.”

  “Christ, Kye, that’s a loaded statement,” he mumbled, and I couldn’t tell if he were mad or not. So I danced him around so the moon’s shadow was on my face now. Now I could see him better, I didn’t find any ire on his face, just sadness, remorse maybe, and a bit of confusion. “I want to know why adult Kye is here, doing all of this settling in and putting down roots.”

  “You asked me to show you roots. I have two roots! One is summer league, which is a blast and yes, I have already signed up for the fall league so there. And one is buying the studio which will happen as soon as Dunny drops a few zeroes from his asking price. This is what you said you needed from me so we could date.”

  “Yes, but you still can’t tell me why you’re doing it. Kye, you’ve told me you’re here for me and for Dunny, but that’s not a good enough reason. You have to be here for you. Don’t you get that?”

  The song changed, something slow and melancholy about lost loves. I wet my lips. “I am doing this for me.” I pulled him closer, turning my head so that my lips swept his cheek with every word.

  “Are you really?” His hand slid under the back of my shirt, rough fingers tickling up my spine.

  “Yeah, I really am. I thought about it when I was in New York and was feeling like the city was too much. Too vibrant, too edgy, too loud. I could think of nothing but getting back here to Spruce Lake, to you, to this outrageously feminine studio, to Dunny, to home. And it hit me that if New York now felt so foreign, probably Pittsburgh would as well. Maybe anywhere that you weren’t wasn’t anywhere I wanted to be.” I pressed a sideways kiss to his cheek and let my fingers slip down his back to rest on one firm ass cheek.

  “And you say you’re unromantic.” His sigh was legendary. “I’m fucking terrified of letting myself feel anything for you again, Kye.”

  I nuzzled his cheek with mine, the dance slipping out of something sw
eet and sappy into something a bit more sinful. His cock was getting hard. Mine was already stiff. His fingers were making small circles on my back, each fingertip setting off sparks that raced down to my balls.

  “I’m sticking around this time. I promise.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I dipped him unexpectedly. He yelped and grabbed at me, his fingers biting into my back and hip.

  “I won’t let go of you again.” That was a vow I intended to keep, and I intended to move on that promise first thing in the morning. But for now, I needed to taste the wine on his lips, so I righted him and kissed him hard. He responded with an unexpected amount of red-hot lust. His hand closed around my ass cheek, holding it firmly and using that grip to lever his dick alongside mine. He took over the kiss, claiming my mouth, licking and biting at my lips, grinding his dick into mine. We started peeling off clothes. Shirts and shoes lay on the grass. I nipped at his tongue, his chin, his jaw as we tripped and stumbled over ourselves. His hip slammed into the table. A wine glass fell to the porch.

  “Clean that…up tomorrow,” I panted into his mouth, my hands now on his face, cradling his head, keeping his mouth where I needed it. Right under mine. My elbow whacked the edge of the sliding door. It hurt. I sucked on his lower lip as he palmed my cock. Right, elbow forgotten. We bounced along the wall, knocking into easels with dusty oils until we fell into the bedroom. “Pants off…shoes too. Oh, shoes are gone. Fuck you’re beautiful.”

  I yanked my shorts off, briefs too, and dove on the bed, pink and white lacy throw pillows bouncing into the air then to the floor. Davy stood in the middle of the room, his zipper down, his shirt missing, his lips puffy from my kisses and teeth, and gave the room a long, serious sweep.

  “Wow, this is really kind of…”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a little girly, but it helps me stay in touch with my feminine side. Now lose your pants and get over here so I can fuck you so hard you pass out.”

  “Yes, I can see the femininity oozing out of you.” He snickered, shucked his pants and boxers, and slithered up over me, trailing his tongue over the head of my cock then up across my belly and chest until he reached my mouth. I rolled him to his back, nudged his legs apart, and began thrusting against his dry hole. He hissed and writhed. “Lube.”

  Right yes, lube. Fuck. “It’s in the bathroom.”

  “Go then…hurry. Go.” He pushed at me playfully. I lowered my head to kiss him once then flew from the bed, slamming a shoulder into the doorway of the bathroom. I cussed loud and long as I pawed through the bag of goodies I’d picked up in New York. I was rolling the condom over my cock, tube of lube tucked under my arm, when I heard his phone ringing.

  “Ah no,” I groaned, jogging out in the hopes that I could find his phone and grind it under my heel. Sadly, no, Davy had gotten to it first and had it resting beside his left ear. I fell to the bed, face first, lube tumbling to the floor, and listened to the brisk conversation.

  “Right, yes, give me ten. No, let’s wait until we have all our officers there. I know we need more men but we’re lucky we have four. Wait for me out of sight. Do we have probable cause? Okay, keep an eye on him. Don’t move without me. Right, yes. If he leaves then follow him but keep me informed.”

  “You have to go?” I said into the rumpled bedding.

  “I have to go.” He patted my bare ass. I mumbled into the bed cover. My dick was really disappointed. “We have a suspicious person who was seen entering the swamps. If those fuckers are in there jacklighting deer, we might have a good chance of catching them.”

  “Yeah okay, I get it. Can I come?” I rolled to my back and sat up. He was already stepping into his underwear. “I can help. I heard you saying you’re understaffed.”

  “No, no way. You’re not trained. There may be firearms involved. You’re a civilian. You stay here, do not attempt to follow me.”

  “Davy, come on. Deputize me. I can help. I know the swamps better than Officer Shiny Teeth for sure!”

  His pants slid up over his ass. The ass I was this close to getting into tonight. Fucking poachers.

  “This isn’t some old John Wayne movie. I can’t just slap a tin badge on someone and call them a deputy. It’s too dangerous. Kye, shut your mouth just this once, okay? I don’t want to go either but duty calls.”

  “But what about this?” I pointed to my dick, all sheathed and looking pretty damn fine in my humble opinion.

  “That is a lovely cock, but it’s in your hands now.” He ran over, kissed me on the lips, and then raced off into the night. I leaped up and ran out after him.

  “You call me when it’s all over,” I shouted to him as he bounced around in the grass trying to get his shoe on his left foot. He waved his shirt over his head then bounded around the pond to his parent’s house where he’d obviously parked. Sampson honked at him as he rounded the pond, but she didn’t leave the water.

  When I caught his headlights rolling over the front of the house, I sighed dramatically. Some woman was singing about silver wings in the moonlight on the radio. I snapped it off, loped inside, flung myself to the bed, and peeled the condom off.

  Forcing my eyes to close, I took my dick in my hand and began stroking it, rough palm over the head with pressure then going back down. In my mind, it was Davy jerking me off, his hot breath fanning my face as he whispered filthy things he wanted me to do to him. Things that, if given half a chance, I would readily agree to. When we’d been lovers as kids, it had been…clumsy if I were being honest. Fast too, like so painfully fast. Now that we were mature and had some experience under our belts, I was eager to branch out. As my hand sped up, my fantasies grew dirtier. Tonguing his ass then slipping a dildo into him was playing over on a steady loop as my breath stuttered a bit, and my balls drew up. Mm, yeah, a big dildo with veins that I’d work in and out of his tight ass until he was close then I’d toss the slippery toy aside and slide my cock into him. One slow thrust it would be, all the way in, and he would come right then and there, his cock spewing cum all over the bedding just like mine was about to do…

  I groaned, pumped myself hard, and came. I worked the spunk down over my cock, rubbing and stroking until the shudders subsided.

  “Always such a mess,” I complained to the walls as I got up and slouched into the bathroom to wash my hands and stomach off. Now that I’d busted a nut, I could clean up, so I did just that and carted the food indoors before it drew a raccoon or a bear. The moon had risen higher now, and the beautiful carrot coloring had faded. It was now a fat orb of white nestled among a million stars. I gazed at it for a long time, until my ass getting eaten up by mosquitoes sent me inside.

  I slid into bed once the remaining wine glasses and flatware were washed and in the rack drying. I paced. I read. I tried to sleep, but that wasn’t happening so I watched an old movie on the VCR. Rose had a pretty good collection if you were into chick flicks and rom-coms. I plucked out The Witches of Eastwick and settled in for the duration. Finally, my phone rang around two in the morning. It was Davy, sounding exhausted and beyond irritated.

  “So, he got away?”

  “Doubled back around on us, the bastard. We did get a visual on the truck he was driving, old blue Ford F-150, so we’re having the state police run it through their systems, but the chances of a hit are slim. So many rural people have old trucks for farm use that don’t have plates that we’re pretty much looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Sorry to hear that. You sound done in. Why don’t you come over here and crawl in bed with me?” I patted the frilly cover then yawned which made him yawn.

  “I doubt we’d get much sleep and my shift starts at eight so I’m staying here, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Anytime you want a fru-fru bed and a willing cuddle buddy, you know where I am. Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Maybe the night after, I’m not going to be fit company tomorrow night after getting four hours of sleep tonight. Where are you taking me?�
�

  “It’s a surprise. Dress casual. Bring condoms and lube packets. Lots of them.”

  “Kye…”

  “Night.” I tapped the red phone icon before he could start in on the what are we doing and why are we doing it crap. Yes, we needed to work out some shit yet, but we could work out shit and fuck at the same time. Knowing he was safely home in his little place on the edge of town, sleep came ‘round damn quickly.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning I ambled up to check on Dunny. He was tossing frozen corn at Sampson, who seemed to like Dunny a lot more than she liked me. After being chased in a circle several times, I threw myself in the back door, my loving grandfather laughing like a drunken hyena all the while.

  “Nasty bird,” I huffed, standing behind the old man in the flowered robe and combat boots. “I’d be nicer to me if I were you, I’m the one searching for good eggs for you!”

  She hissed at me. Her long neck stretched out like a damn snake. “Try feeding her. That works with most animals.”

  “She’s a bird not an animal. I’m not rewarding her for chasing my ass.” I stomped inside and poured myself a cup of coffee. It was so strong I coughed and the mouthful I’d taken sputtered out of my mouth to dot my clean white T-shirt. “Jesus, Dunny, how many scoops did you use?”

  “Ten, just like Rose used to do. Did you say you got eggs for Sampson?” He threw one final handful of corn to the winged menace then pattered back inside, the screen door slapping shut. I nodded, glad to see he seemed to have a bit more clarity today.

  “Yup, I have to make a run out to Effie Jones’s place today and pick them up.”

  He stared at me for the longest time, his hands covered with sticky corn juice, his gaze vacant.

  “Dunny, you okay?”

  “Rose put up corn. We bought it at Effie’s place. Her son grow’d it over at the big farm. We’d buy a bag of sweet ear corn and come home to tend to it. Blanch it, cut it off the cob, pack it into freezer bags. In the winter, we’d pull it out. Never tasted anything so good as sweet corn in January.”