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Finding Home: Just Found Heaven, Bk 1.5 - 7. Chapter 7 - Roman POV part 2 & Ben Epilogue
Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from making bad decisions.
- Mark Twain
"FUCK IT,” I said, my tone husky as I dragged Max to his feet, one hand still tangled in the gelled strands of his hair. It had to sting, but Max didn’t complain. Instead, he pressed his body up against mine, practically riding my thigh when I wedged it between his legs to provide more stability for him. My cock was completely on board with this plan. During good sex, my pain and pleasure sensors usually got mixed up too.
I didn’t know who closed the slight gap between us first, but Max’s lips were suddenly on mine, softer than I’d expected them to be, like he lived on Chapstick. His tongue slid over my lower lip before he gave me his mouth, lips parting to invite me in and allow my tongue to curl around his, encouraging my exploration of every inch of heat beyond his teeth.
It quickly turned into a battle where each of us tried to suck the air out of the other, and breathing became a distant necessity. All that mattered was this sudden, pure and furious need that’d started as attraction then been banked hotter by the definition of frustrated verbal foreplay.
When I heard a moan, I didn’t know who’d made the sound because we were pressed together so closely that the vibrations against my chest could’ve come from him or me.
My hand slid out of his hair to avoid yanking it out when Max managed to tug me away from the door, only to fumble us just a few feet. We narrowly missed taking out a small side table before he pushed me up against the nearest wall. There was the slightest bit of imbalance on my end because my slacks were still down around my thighs, but the rising heat between us seemed to have cleared Max’s head because his hands navigated skillfully over my body to undo the buttons on my suit jacket. He shoved the material up and over my shoulders as much as he was able to, before the wall stopped him in an effective cock block. I pulled away from his mouth just long enough to roll my shoulders back to shrug the jacket off myself. It pooled into a heap of burgundy material on the floor.
Under other circumstances I’d have twitched. The suit wasn’t cheap. Very few of my clothes were, except for the sweats and t-shirts I slept in or wore to the gym, but right now, I was out of fucks to give.
Max had dropped to his knees again, watching intently as I swiftly undid the buttons on my dress shirt so I could shrug that off as well. My undershirt was worked over my head next and dropped like the finishing cherry on top of my clothing sundae.
Using the wall to support my weight, I worked my boxer briefs and pants the rest of the way down my long legs to my ankles. My left foot pushed down the right pant leg all the way so I could step out of it, before repeating the motion on the other side with my right foot and left pant leg. I made quicker work of my boxers, not making a show out of undressing. Even so, Max was looking up at me like a starving man. His dazed eyes, parted lips, and the clump of hair that’d flipped the bird to any product in before flopping over his temples, added to the look of being completely debauched.
I’d barely touched him, so we were in for a hell of a night.
For some fucking inane reason, I was suddenly reminded of the Floor is Lava game that I’d played with some of the kids I’d grown up with when I was too little to care about being cool just to survive our neighborhood. Max didn’t seem to be concerned in the least about burning up.
“I expected some ink. The piercin’s…”
“Not so much?” I asked as I kicked both my slacks and boxers unceremoniously out of the way. My dress socks were still on, but I ignored them momentarily, more focused on moving his hands away from the buttons on his own dress shirt, which felt just a little less crisp than it had earlier, the rising heat of his body dampening his skin beneath.
“Unexpected. And fuckin’ hot,” he responded with a grin.
Max shrugged his own broad shoulders to shuck off the material once I got the small buttons taken care of. His shirt dropped to the floor beside my clothing and I briefly dipped my head to kiss my way down his neck, then along his clavicle when Max tilted his head to give me better access. His hand curled around the back of my neck tightly, like he didn’t trust me not to pull away from this bad idea again.
He didn’t have to worry. The hungry moans escaping from between his lips when I shifted tactics and rained kisses in a path back up to the juncture where his neck met his shoulder, were enough to guarantee that this was happening. I’d been trying to get him to shut up since I’d found him at the bar, but now, I couldn’t get enough of the sounds he was making; desperate, needy, wanting… to quote him from earlier, hot.
Max’s moans morphed into a sharp gasp then a low growl that was a petition not a protest, when I sucked up hard. The pressure wasn’t enough to bruise, but it was definitely hard enough to earn myself another strangled sound as Max’s cock threatened to bore through his slacks to get closer to my thigh when I switched our positions again, roughly propping him against the stability of the wall.
He didn’t protest or cry foul about the manhandling. Instead, he slid his arms up over his own head, bracing them back against the wall so his body was slightly arched, completely stretched out in pragmatic surrender. As I slid the zipper on his slacks down, I parallelled it’s path with my mouth, my tongue curling wet and warm around Max’s left nipple to tease it into stiff, split-slick peaks with my teeth before shifting gears and doing the same to the right one.
I liked to use my teeth as much as my tongue and judging by how Max was keening with pleasure in between profane promises to do things to me that were probably illegal in most states, he didn’t mind the rough play.
“Dios, eres tan jodidamente sexy. All those noises… you don’t give a shit when you’re turned on. So, fucking sexy.”
I balanced on my knees as I dragged my hands down Max’s body, guiding his slacks down before helping him to step out of them so they could be tossed somewhere near my own clothing. His boxer briefs came next, and my lips curled in amusement at the bright orange color that couldn’t quite compete with a traffic cone but was definitely a runner up.
There was nothing boring about this man.
Max’s erection sprang free immediately, my name turned into a choked sound when my hand curled around his dick. He immediately thrust up into my grip as hard as he could, trying to get his legs spread wider apart to give me better access, moving like he was already on the verge of losing it.
I tapped his right ankle, so he’d lift his foot, allowing me to remove his sock. I repeated the movement on the left. While I trusted myself to be able to bend over later to pull mine off, I couldn’t say the same for him.
“Fuck you’re good at that,” he mumbled.
I was pretty sure he was talking about how I was slowly stroking him off root to tip now that I had him completely naked, not about how effectively I’d freed him from his socks, but I grinned anyway.
“I’m good at a lot of things,” I said, illustrating that point by leaning forward to blow gently over his skin before I slowly dragged my tongue up along the underside of his cock, which was longer than it was thick. Just once. Then I pulled away, holding up one finger to silence him. I was shocked it worked, though his seafoam green eyes suddenly seemed lit up from within like he was channeling some inner incandescent fire.
“I hate the taste of latex, but if we’re going to lose it for this, I need to know you’re clean. I’m good. I have screenshots of all of my test results for the past year saved in a folder on my phone and haven’t hooked up with anyone in the past four months. I’ll show it to you.”
Max suddenly pushed off from the wall, just enough to give him space to bend so he could slide long fingers beneath my chin. I was already looking at him, but he seemed to be making a deliberate point as his thumb brushed the edge of my jaw.
He smirked, his eyes not leaving mine as the fingers of his free hand brushed down my chest almost gently. When he leaned in to brush his lips lightly over mine, he pinched my right nipple hard, then swallowed my approving growl as he twisted the bar with an expertise proving he’d done this before and knew just the right balance between pleasure and pain.
“You have a STD Free file on your phone…. Of course, you do.” His smirk deepened. “You don’t need to show me, Roman. Your best friend’s a priest. You wouldn’t lie to me because brimstone and hellfire would rain down on your fine ass. As for me, I’m clean. I get tested monthly. The hospital doesn’t require it, but I don’t believe in playin’ stupid just because I like playin’ in a lot of sandboxes.”
Max ignored my sound that was an even split between amusement and exasperation as he leaned in to steal a kiss that was still carnal, but slower and deeper. He nipped the subtle dip in my upper lip, then licked across my lower. I’d never been happier that I trusted he was telling me the truth.
“If it makes you feel better, it’s been two months since I’ve slept with anyone.”
I raised my left eyebrow though the rest of my expression probably gave away what I was thinking. Not quite calling him a liar but definitely asking him to repeat himself.
Max shrugged. “I’m not sayin’ I haven’t fooled around, or that our lovely bartender from last night wasn’t happy about runnin’ into a man who can properly lick a clit.” I got another crooked smile as I rolled my eyes. “But I’ve been busy between balancin’ work, helpin’ to plan the weddin’, and all the PG extracurricular activities I do while standin’ up, to go for an all-American homerun.”
My lips twitched, but this time he was the one who held up a finger to silence me before I could say anything about that.
“But tonight… Tonight, I expect you to fuck my brains out. Not bare though. Raincoats all the way.”
“I don’t go bare. Ever. We’re good, so long as we’re on the same wavelength. No strings, but I still want to make sure I have your full consent to own every inch of you tonight. I also need your safe word.”
“Me tryin’ to suck your brains out through your dick wasn’t enough consent for you?”
I leaned forward for a brief kiss. When I pulled back, I allowed my mouth to linger just above his for a moment so that he could feel the warmth of my breath feathering across his lips.
“I never play unless things are safe and mutual. So, say it Max, or we end this right now.”
“Do that and you’ll be limpin’ like Sir Get-Along.”
“Don’t care. You’re in love with a guy you can’t have, so I’m standing in for tonight. I’m cool with that, but you’re here with me right now, so no one else gets to be in your head or in this room. I told you, I don’t want drama tomorrow, and I’m not competing with ghosts of exes past right now. Got it?”
Max’s eyes were crinkling at the corners as his lips twitched. “So, uh, that means that I—”
“Want you, Roman,” I interjected smoothly, watching his face. “That’s your only option, other than us getting our clothes back on, then finding something to watch on limited hotel channels after I lock the door and bar it with a chair. You’re not leaving here to get into trouble by getting into a random stranger’s bed. I told Ben I’d keep an eye on you.”
“I doubt this is what he meant, baby. P for priest probably means P for prude too, regardless of his Julia Robert’s past.”
“He was bringing in double digits nightly. Why would a change of career affect his level of kink?”
Max made a rude sound. “One more reason to hate the heavenly fucker...”
“I’ve heard he’s good. I didn’t say I’m not better.”
A smile tugged up the corners of Max’s mouth though he still didn’t say anything. His earlier murmured, please, was what’d gotten us this far in the first place. But it seemed like now that his mind was clear enough to hold a semi-coherent conversation, he just wanted this to happen to him.
l immediately let go and stepped back. I was good with most things in bed—other than the gross shit that made me practically break out in hives because watersports only ever belonged in actual water like a pool— but fully conscious consent was non-negotiable. I could be a stand-in, but only if Max actually knew what was going on.
My shirt was the first thing I grabbed off the floor when I turned away from him. I didn’t get a chance to pull it on, because Max’s hand suddenly curled around my wrist. His hold was firm, but the roll of his thumb along the pulse point was gentle. Our eyes met and I could see his hesitation there, though a brief glance down proved his body was still completely on board.
I was suddenly reminded of being a kid growing up in the Miami projects, wanting so bad to ask my mother for a dollar to get a coquito—the Latin version of Italian ices—from the corner vendor, on scorching hot days. I never had, because I knew we never had much left after the welfare check was cashed. I’d wanted so badly to ask though, as much for the sense of being normal like other kids who didn’t have only two t-shirts, one pair of jeans, and a lone pair of shorts that got washed and worn on repeat, as for the sweet, coconut flavored ice.
I couldn’t say it was a real regret, but me rarely asking for anything meant I hadn’t gotten much. My mom had had other things to worry about, like keeping a roof over our heads on her minimum wage paychecks. If I ever let Tara get her skinny, shrinky little hands on me, maybe she’d say that slightly neglected childhood was one of the reasons why I kept most people at hands length.
She’d never get the chance, but I’d love to be a fly on the wall if she ever broke Max since we seemed to share the mindset that therapy and whining were synonymous terms. Being unable to open up like a normal human being was apparently a red flag more obvious than our shared rainbow one.
After counting silently to five, I made an executive decision.
My shirt dropped to the floor again and I moved that hand to his hip like I intended to pull him towards me. Just as expected, Max relaxed, apparently able to go along with whatever happened next as long as he didn’t have to outright ask for it. His kneeling confession from earlier was obviously an anomaly inspired by way too much fucking alcohol.
Too bad. If he wasn’t going to participate in the game, I was starting a new one with specific rules.
I took advantage of his releasing his hold on my wrist and immediately manhandled him around until his long, athletic frame was pinned up against the wall with my own body.
Max’s breath caught hard. I could feel the heat radiating off him when I pressed mine more firmly up against it, letting my erection find a near-perfect puzzle between his crease while I braced my left arm across the broad spread of his shoulder blades to keep him immobile. Max grunted when I licked slowly along the shell of his ear from the curve to the lobe.
“Fuck, you’re strong.”
“I’m also still waiting,” I murmured. “Say it. Tell me you want me or tell me to let you go. Tell me you need this, or that you don’t.”
I ground up against him harder. Max’s hips instantly tilted back as much as they were able to in his constricted position.
He wasn’t in pain. At least not the kind that couldn’t be alleviated with a good hard fuck once he gave up this bullshit fight for control.
“Say something,” I ordered, my lips grazing first his ear, then the side of his neck. My free hand reached around his body to wrap it tight around his cock that was so hard, so slick at the tip, Max was probably painting an explicit memory across the wall for the hotel cleaning crew to deal with tomorrow.
“I…oh…fuckin’ shit…” Max moaned, and his head tilted back toward my shoulder, giving me full access to his neck, to his throat. When I bit down hard at the juncture where his neck and shoulder met, Max’s hips thrust forward again, practically humping the wall.
“I know you want me, papi. It’s so damn obvious, but you need to tell me what you want. I don’t read fucking minds and I don’t do implied consent when it’s a one-night stand. You need this, and I. Need. You. To. Say. It.”
I punctuated every word with a stinging nip from my teeth to his ear, his neck, his throat, and everywhere in between.
I heard Max when he swallowed thickly, the sound almost tangible because I was nuzzling against his throat when he did.
“Please,” he whispered.
I reached up and tangled my fingers in Max’s hair, shifting my weight so I could tug his head back hard enough to arch his body, forcing his ass back up against my own groin.
“Please what?”
I forced my voice to remain steady as I skated my free hand lightly down Max’s spine, ghosting it along his ribs in a stark contrast to the harsher drag of my teeth along the side of his neck. I was being rougher with him than I usually would be the first time out with anyone, but right now, I saw a lot of myself in Max: the needing, the wanting, and the not being able to ask until someone forced the issue.
I was forcing the issue.
“Please stop, Roman? Please go away? Please leave me to wallow in self-pity? Or maybe please, Roman, stay and make me forget? How about, please, Roman, please fuck me because I know you’re going to rock my goddamn world.”
“Cocky…motherfucker…” Max sounded distracted, like he was either trying not to laugh, or was just unable to concentrate.
“That your final answer?”
Max’s laugh was low, throaty, and fully consenting even before he said, “Please, Roman… I want you. I fuckin’ need you.”
“Safe word?”
I expected more backtalk, but Max waved his white flag, at least for now. “Fahrenheit.”
I raised an eyebrow when he added, “Things are, gettin’ hot in here, so we’re takin’ off all our clothes.”
That last part was offered in perfectly pitched singsong, better than the original version, because his voice had a seductive, bluesy quality to it. Still fucking corny as hell, but at least we were past the will they, or won’t they bullshit.
“Fair enough. I’ll make mine the same.”
“Excellent. Now get ba—”
Max made a strangled sound as I cut off his snark by releasing my hold on him only long enough to whirl him around again, grinding him into the wall as I slammed my mouth on his in a hard kiss that claimed every desperate, approving sound he made. He gave as good as he got, kissing like it was an Olympic sport he planned to win a gold for.
Pulling back, I brushed my thumb lightly over the kiss swollen curve of his lower lip, before I slid to my own knees again. I didn’t give him time to question my final destination, just sucked him completely into my mouth with a practiced curl of my tongue. I wrapped my lips around that perfectly plump and shiny cockhead, sucking him in deep, satisfied on that primal, visceral level all men are reduced to in bed if they aren’t dead from the waist down.
I felt his arousal, tasted it, because the slickness that pearled at that tip of Max’s hard flesh, and got coated around his length with the ministrations of my mouth, had nothing to do with my saliva. I’d been with enough men in my life to expect the slick, briny tang, but along with it, Max tasted slightly spicy, with a smoothness rounding out the flavors that reminded me of good whiskey. It was unique, unexpected, and so damn hot, I wanted more.
I sucked hard and deep, swallowing to keep from gagging when the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat. My gag reflex was minimal most of the time. Max however, had hop-scotched past the average for most men. And while I wanted to stuff every inch of him down my throat, I was a realist and had to work with what I had.
After I curled my hand firmly around the base of him so that the extra couple of inches of his dick that I regrettably couldn’t fit into my mouth, were still enveloped by some part of me, I went back to blowing him. Max’s dick was hot and slick, precum coating my tongue and the backside of my teeth when I sucked hard enough for my cheeks to hollow again.
The sudden sharp snap of his hips shoved him deep enough into my mouth that I almost gagged, but before I had to back off completely to take a breath, I felt the light, almost gentle brush of his fingertips along the top of my head. It was an apology that didn’t need to be verbalized, but I growled in approval anyway, both to let him know I understood and because I knew what the vibrations would feel like when they rolled across his sensitized flesh.
I leaned back on my heels, still gripping Max firmly around the base so when I pulled off, he was at the perfect height and angle for me to lick his tip, lightly, almost prudishly compared to a moment ago when I’d been treating his cock like my personal plaything. The edge of my tongue teased through his leaking slit to coat my tongue with his precum while I jacked him with firm pressure, yet slowly enough for Max to feel every deliberate sensation as it was dragged out.
It must’ve been too much, because he abruptly leaned down, his strong hands trying to shove my shoulders back.
I didn’t let him take control. He had his word so if he wanted me to stop then he’d have to ask. It might kill me, but I’d been serious about consent.
When I didn’t hear Fahrenheit, I turned my head and bit into the soft flesh of his inner thigh right next to his sack. Max’s legs buckled, but he caught himself, gripping the narrow edge of the crown molding on the wall. I could see his knuckles going white when I rolled my eyes up. His own eyes were wild but aside from a subtle tremble in his body, he didn’t look like he was going to crash down on me like a pile of bricks. I smirked, then shifted my attention back to his cock, scraping the safe edge of my teeth down along the length, from head to root, then back. The blunt edges of his fingertips digging into my shoulder signaled he was on the edge.
I didn’t want the first time he came to be down my throat. I also didn’t want him to fall because he lost his balance. But despite being able to have a conversation, he was still drunk, and I didn’t want to waste time trying to brew a cup of coffee for him using the tiny coffeemaker that was on a tray on top of the microwave. Calling room service would take too long, so we were going with Max’s original plan A.
I refused to get into a fucking cold shower when I wasn’t drunk, but water was water. Being forced to maintain odd hours didn’t keep me from suffering the same brain fog as people who got up early in the morning. Some time spent in the shower with warm water sluicing down my skin helped focus and motivate me, so I was hoping it’d do the same for Max.
When I let Max’s cock exit my mouth with a wet pop, he swore. I drowned out further bitching by tugging him close to me for another kiss. He immediately pulled me down to his level, all passivity gone now that he’d admitted what he wanted.
He fused our lips together, kissing me harder and deeper than I’d kissed him, with no subtlety or choreography. His only goal seemed to be laying claim to every inch of my mouth as his tongue swept over the smooth barrier of my teeth, before sucking my tongue into his mouth the moment I opened for him. The nubby warmth of his tongue around mine tantalized every one of my nerve endings as he explored and validated all his bedroom bragging rights. I didn’t have enough fingers or toes left over after counting the number of partner’s I’d had in the past, but not one of them had ever kissed me with as much single-minded focus as Max was right now.
Maybe he was just trying to forget Sam, but if it encouraged him to keep rubbing up against me as we kissed so the flat, muscled plains of his hard abdomen, and his even harder cock kept riding mine, I was good with it. I was even better with inviting any of the men, or even the women who’d helped him hone his kissing skills, down to the clubs to drink for free for a month.
Max’s hands kept busy with independent tasks. One curled tight around the back of my neck, while the other brushed its fingertips across the silver bar in my left nipple, which matched the one in the right. I’d intended to get us to the bathroom and into the shower, but Max refused to let me go even after he’d broken the kiss long enough for us to both take a breath.
“I gotta say, the nipple piercings are amazin’… you’re so responsive.
“They were supposed to match the cock ring.”
Max lifted an eyebrow as he briefly glanced down at my obviously unpierced cock like he’d missed more than he’d realized while being this fucked up, before he met my gaze again in silent question.
I leaned in to nip first the right, then the left corners of his mouth before I answered. “After I saw motherfucking stars when the piercer did my left nipple, I barely got through the right. Once he was done, that was enough holes for me.”
Max snickered. “Ooooh so big, bad and stacked, but a little ouch is too much to handle?”
“I said I was done with putting holes in my body. Never said I didn’t like pain.”
“No…you didn’t…” The hand that’d been exploring my chest, brushed across my left nipple lightly before he twisted the bar just hard enough to my eyes cross in a way my cock liked and visibly approved of, by jerking against Max’s midsection.
“Fuck yeah… just like that.”
“You’re stupidly hot,” Max murmured, before doing it again. The sharp, biting heat whipped down my spine like lightning, igniting every nerve ending. But instead of doing it a third time, Max leaned down to replace his fingers with his tongue, flicking the nub that was always tight because of the piercing, into an even stiffer peak. He sucked lightly, then bit down so sharply my body bucked up against his, pinning him harder into the wall with my weight.
My fingers found their way into his hair again, but I used both hands so that I could tug his head up to make him look at me. His lips curled into a slow, unapologetic grin.
“We need to move this to the shower.”
“You shot that idea down before, and we haven’t gotten dirty enough to need to get clean yet. Don’t try and sell me on you being a germaphobe, because my cock will call you a liar considerin’ how you just went down.”
“I’m not when it comes to sex, but I want you to be sober enough that you remember who fucked you so hard, you felt it in the back of your throat.”
“Lofty ambitions.”
“Let me prove it.”
This time when Max kissed me again, both his hands glided down along my ribcage, then lower, until he filled his palms with my ass and squeezed, aggressively grinding our cocks together with a swivel of his lean hips.
Not submissive in the fucking slightest.
“Roman,” he murmured, the low, raw tone saying everything even before the rest of the words left his mouth. “I want you to fuck me. Need you to fuck me. Like now, because I need to come like a motherfucker.”
Though I secretly prided myself on how long I could hold out before I blew my load when I slept with anyone, I almost came on the spot when Max’s clear eyes met mine.
I closed my hand around his right wrist to tug him towards me, before bending just enough to get my left arm behind his knees for support so I could haul him up into my arms. I felt his surprise, but instead of complaining about the fact his feet were now dangling as I gathered him against my chest, he slid an arm around my neck.
“Thought you didn’t want to be a knight in shinin’ armor. Or are you embracin’ the role now that we’re goin’ to cross swords?”
“If you stumble and bust your inebriated ass in the bathroom, I’m going to be pissed that I ended up with blue balls because we had to stop for me to clean your blood off the fucking tiles.”
Max laughed, but I ignored him as when he started singing Bloodhound Gang’s, ‘Bad Touch,’ in that smooth baritone that was only slightly deeper than when he talked.
“Sweat baby, sweat baby, sex is a Texas drought... Me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about… So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts…Yes I'm Siskel, yes I'm Ebert and you're getting two thumbs up…You've had enough of two-hand touch… You want it rough you're out of bounds….I want you smothered, want you covered like my Waffle House hashbrowns…”
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, moving us in the direction of the bathroom as Max continued his mission of bringing the filthiest parts of the 90s back for the night. I shouldn’t have been surprised he could sing. Max Melone seemed capable of accomplishing a lot of unexpected shit, including getting me to break my strict, self-imposed rules about not sleeping with anyone who could complicate my life.
Max belonged to Sam, to his family, and to Tara. Most of those people also belonged to Ben. Since Ben belonged to me, that made Max a default member of my own damn tribe. AKA, a voyage destined for complications. Unfortunately, right now, I wanted him underneath me enough to half-convince myself I could handle any possible fallout tomorrow.
Max was beginning to launch into the explicit chorus when I pushed the door of the bathroom open with my hip, while he helpfully switched on the lights.
“Do it now!... You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel (Do it again now)… You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel… Gettin' horny now!”
He swayed only marginally when I set him down on his feet, putting him in range of the sink in case the stability situation changed, and he needed to grab onto it for support while I fussed with the shower. It took up most of the bathroom, leaving just enough space for a single sink vanity, and a toilet on the other side. No tub, but I could work with that because the sleek, stone looking floor tiles were clean, and the glass was crystal clear like the cleaning crew lived in fear of earning demerits for dinginess.
The tiled walls inside the shower had the same stone texture as the two benches inside. One was straight across the back, facing the polished stainless-steel faucet and knobs. The other was catty corner to it. I didn’t think it was a big enough shower for that much seating room to be justified, but I approved of the wide, square rain showerhead installed in the center.
I’d been in nicer hotel rooms but had also spent the night in much worse places. As long as I had good water pressure, a soft mattress on a bed big enough for me and whoever I was with, and open communication, I was good. I’d grown out of the walk of shame mindset years ago, so Max would get the same options in the morning that any other guy would: to feel free to spend the night, brush our teeth in the morning, then enjoy a cup of Cuban espresso together on the balcony. If he experienced buyer’s remorse, then he was free to slink out in his rumpled suit while I enjoyed this shower again.
I didn’t think Max was the slinking type though. Mostly because it would mean him having to put away the swagger that seemed embedded in his DNA.
It took me a few minutes to fuss with the knobs and dials until I had the pressure and heat level of the water where I wanted it. Warm water was a requirement for extraordinary fucks in the shower. When the glass door began to fog with the beginnings of condensation, I closed it behind me.
“Love, the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket… Like the lost catacombs of Egypt only God knows where we stuck it… Hieroglyphics? Let me be Pacific I wanna be down in your South Seas, but I got this notion that the motion of your ocean means, "Small Craft Advisory"… So if I capsize on your thighs high tide, before you sink my battleship… Please turn me on, I'm Mister Coffee with an automatic drip… So show me yours, I'll show you mine… Tool Time", you'll Lovett just like Lyle and then we'll do it doggy style so we can both watch "X-Files. Do it now! …You and me baby ain't nothin' but mam—"
My hard kiss silenced Max mid-chorus. Despite his default, over-confident bullshit, he inhaled with a sharp sound when I hauled him to his feet and dragged him up against my chest. He came willingly, but with teeth, like a kitten looking for a cuddle after it proved it was an apex predator.
The sharp nip of Max’s teeth left my lower lip stinging until he soothed the spot with his tongue. He stroked the skin slowly, before moving both tongue and teeth to new locations along the length of my throat, then across my shoulder, and finally back up the side of my neck so he could flick my left earlobe with his tongue before murmuring. “Your socks are still on, handsome.”
Huskiness had lowered Max’s voice another octave despite the hint of laughter in it. If my damn socks hadn’t indeed been on, and some Marvin Gaye had been playing in the background, we’d be halfway to the start of an excellent, real-life porno.
I swore. “Sit on the shower bench for a minute. I’m coming.”
“Not yet you aren’t. I have to come first anyway. My room, my rules.”
I snorted, bracing one hand on the edge of the sink to maintain my balance as I worked off my left sock, then switched hands to get the right one off too. How I hadn’t gotten them wet when I was trying to figure out the shower system was a small miracle of whatever deity encouraged making poor decisions.
“I paid for the room. I get to call the shots. Sit.”
I glanced up after I’d rid myself of the damn socks to see that Max had followed my directions and was obediently waiting for me on the bench closest to the water raining down from the shower head.
Granted, Max’s ‘obedience,’ might’ve been a stretch of the definition. I’d told him to sit. How he’d chosen to interpret that…
I kicked my socks to the side of the vanity where we wouldn’t slip on them later, then just enjoyed the show for a minute. Max was leaning back with his head against the tiles, his hair already dampened from the castoff spray of water from the shower. He had one long leg stretched out in front of him, heel on the floor. The other was braced with his foot flat on the bench as he stroked his cock lazily with one hand.
My brain absently noted that he was a leftie, before it went back and forth, trying to decide where to place its focus: on the movement of Max’s hand, or on the subtle hint of intimate darkening at his hole that was at my viewing pleasure because of the deliberate way he was sitting.
Max wasn’t shy.
I supported that mindset.
Being direct was a tactic that worked both in business and the bedroom, because issues usually came up when people miscommunicated. Being clear about what you wanted was the best way to get what you wanted.
Max was broadcasting loud and clear.
His smile turned lazy, seafoam green eyes studying me with heated intensity as he licked the pad of his thumb on his right hand, then slowly rubbed it around the flat, pinkish nub of his right nipple. When my gaze dropped to somewhere around his midsection so I could enjoy peripheral glances of his right fingers twisting his nipples, and his left hand stripping his cock harder and faster than I’d have started with, I didn’t need to see his face to know he was enjoying himself. His guttural moans were proof enough.
“Don’t even need me, do you?”
Max opened his eyes. They’d shut tight sometime between coaxing out more pre-cum from the slit in his cockhead, and pinching his right nipple so hard, I almost felt that exhilarating, sweet bite of pain in my own.
“I’m just keepin’ the fire simmerin’, sweet thing. Get over here and light it up.”
“Do you ever stop talking like you’re in a 70’s porno?”
“If you stopped smilin’, maybe I’d consider it. Probably not though, because I like your dimples. They’re deep as the Pilsbury Dough Boy’s bellybutton.”
I’d had a lot of casual sex before. Casual sex with this much teasing, almost affectionately snarky foreplay… not in years. I was always considerate in the bedroom, but pillow talk wasn’t a priority for the people I fucked.
Max winked as if he could see the wheels in my head turning. “Do you need me to engrave the invitation? Because this right here, is an open one if you want it.”
“You know I do.”
“Then get your fine ass in here before I really start fannin’ my own flames. If I come before you’re up inside me, it’s gonna be your loss, ‘cause those bed pillows looked like they’ll lull me to sleep as soon as I lay my head on them.”
“If you think you’re getting away with a one-shot after all the smack you’ve talked tonight, you’re shit out of luck.”
I pushed off of the bathroom vanity so that I could pull on the shower door handle, allowing the muggy heat to surround me when it opened. I’d been born and raised in Florida so was I was used to humidity, but the temperature inside the shower suddenly seemed higher than any heatwave on state record.
Max’s moans tickled my eardrums when I swooped down to capture his mouth, dragging his tongue roughly into my own until his deep, throaty purrs hooked into my balls. I barely heard the soft snick of the automatic shower door as it clicked shut behind me. With Max sitting down, he wasn’t at the best angle for me to get him properly spread out for me, and I wasn’t planning to kneel on the bench. I kept myself in shape through rigorous workout routines at the gym five days a week, and a morning run on the beach all seven, but I was also pushing forty-one and didn’t have an extended warranty on my knees. The stone edge cutting into my lower thigh was hard as fuck where I was leaning against it to get to Max, so there was no way the floors tile would be any better.
“Up,” I murmured, an approving growl sliding from between my lips as Max grinned and stepped into my arms. The warm, heated spray of water drenched our skin when I moved us beneath it, the flow not enough of a discouragement to stop us from kissing. We made out like teenagers until Max shifted slightly, and the bare length of his hard cock slid against mine.
It felt amazing.
Unfortunately, once my mind registered that, I realized we didn’t have slick or a condom with us. I hadn’t brought one because hooking up with someone at Ben and Sam’s wedding hadn’t been an expectation. When we’d started this, I’d assumed Max had one with him. I just hadn’t remembered to ask him where I was because we’d been so wrapped up in one another.
Fuck. “I don’t have a condom with me.”
“I do, but it’s in my jacket. Lube too. Guess you’ll have to figure something else out, then go for round two in the room.”
He grinned as I responded by sliding my hands along the strong, athletically shaped planes of Max’s back slowly. I cupped his bare ass when I reached it, letting the smooth, firm flesh fill and singe my palms. Max was a man on fire, trying to swallow me from the tongue down in an aggressive tango when he kissed me as I explored his body.
I broke the kiss first. Teasing the curve of his ear with my teeth, I nipped and sucked my way across every inch of his neck and shoulders. Both my hands kneaded the taut globes of his ass before I peeled them slowly apart. Max moaned at the sensual, dual sensations of me drawing meaningless patterns along his taint with my fingertips, while the shower water sluiced down over his shoulder and spine to pass erotically through his crease, and flow over the one finger barely breaching him.
“Fuuuck,” Max muttered, grinding harder against my thigh when I slid just the tip inside. I wanted to plunge it all the way in and move us along quick so I could get at least two more fingers inside before I replaced them with my dick and plugged him so hard we might both forgot our names. But the condom was still in the bedroom, so the second part of that scenario was out. Max also felt tighter than I expected from a man who slept his way through life so often, he felt the need to test monthly.
I wasn’t in this to hurt him unless he asked for that, which was why I’d insisted on a safe word. I’d held my own in prison, so I’d never been forced to give up anything I hadn’t been willing to, but my time there had definitely intensified the requirement for consent that was already part of my moral code.
“That’s it. Put yourself on the edge. I’ll do the rest. We’re going with your original plan for now.”
“Mmm I’ve had as many ideas as I’ve had drinks, so remind me what that was?”
“I’m going to make you come by blowing your brains out through your dick. Then we’re going to towel dry off just enough that we won’t soak the bedsheets when I fuck you into them. Tell me your safe word again.”
Max looked amused, but he murmured the word across my mouth. “Fahrenheit.” Then he kissed me so hard our teeth clicked together all finesse abandoned.
We needed slick to make this easier, but Max suddenly seemed to be everywhere at once. I fumbled blindly for the wall mounted dispenser I’d seen on the wall earlier. The three sections had been individually labeled; shampoo, conditioner and bodywash. I felt along the dispenser, my fingers tapping until I found the second one wedged between the other too. When I’d noticed them earlier, the pale green conditioner had looked thicker and creamier than the dark blue, translucent bodywash in the clear plastic housings.
After I’d dispensed as much of the conditioner as I could one-handed, I smeared my fingers together to coat them then slowly worked my fingers back into Max’s tight crease, gliding them up, then down with the help of the creamy liquid.
It wasn’t the best angle for this, but I was enjoying the heat of Max’s mouth on mine. To keep him close, I pushed him against the nearest shower wall for support before I reached down to hook my left arm under his leg to brace it on my hip for easier access.
Max broke from the kiss, his breathing already erratic. “Jesus, You’re like a sexy, blue-eyed, Cuban Hulk. Where are the eyes from anyway?”
“My father. A topic that’ll kill any hardon.”
His eyes swept my face with a hint of curious amusement, but he didn’t say anything. Apparently, uniting over daddy issues was a way to shut him up.
Max leaned into me for a kiss as I rubbed the tip of my pointer finger around the crimped edges of his opening again. We didn’t leave an inch of one another’s mouths unexplored as I circled his entrance with growing insistence.
Judging by how Max was tilting his hips up to encourage me, he was all on board though his body still fought me, even with the improvised slick. I kept at it, circling and pushing patiently until that intimate muscle surrendered, finally letting me in.
I slid my index finger in carefully, trying to work as much of the makeshift lube around his velvety tight inner core as I could, just letting him get used to the sensation. I avoided his prostate deliberately, but it took effort. I had big hands and fingers that went with them, so it wasn’t long before I grazed that bundle of nerves and Max hissed with pleasure, his clenched fists pounding lightly against the tile wall. His cock jerked like it was annoyed it was being ignored, and I growled into his mouth.
The floor was probably as hard as the benches were, but when Max made a mewling sound, I removed my finger and dropped to the tile floor, knees be damned.
All protests about the abrupt exit died immediately when I licked the glistening drops at the tip of his dick that weren’t water. Max immediately spread his legs wider apart, both for traction and to give me room both to work. He wobbled only slightly when I hooked his right leg over my shoulder, assuming his left was dominant and more stable since he was a leftie. The wide spread of my shoulder span helped to support him as I lapped at the velvety head, trapping it against the muscled ridge of his abs. His miniscule pubic hair tickled my chin as I licked my way around the head of his cock, teasing him in all the ways I liked until I finally sucked him into my mouth completely.
I didn’t have enough hair for Max to tangle his fingers into, but I felt his fingertips brush over the top of my head, almost petting me as I suckled at his length while working my finger back into his ass again. I tested the waters by trading the one out for two faster than I would’ve with most partners.
Making Max lose his mind and spill down my throat was the immediate goal, but I also needed to prep him for later. I didn’t care how often he did this. I was almost 6’6. Every part of my body was proportionate, so my dick was almost as wide as it was long. Basically only an inch or two beneath truly problematic. Without proper prep, it’d be more pain than pleasure and if Max stubbornly refused to say Fahrenheit, I’d have, to so we were going to try and completely avoid that scenario.
Max murmured something but I couldn’t make out what it was between the beating sound of the shower water, and the wet noises of my mouth. I wanted to break Max down. Needed to strip off the shroud of sass he hid behind to get him raw and open. Mentally as much as physically. Max wanted to stop thinking, but unless I overwhelmed him, he wouldn’t be able to.
I worked my index and pointer fingers into him deeper, deliberately stroking over his prostate with the pads of both, Max suddenly jerked up hard though he pulled back at the last minute to keep his thrusts shallow enough not to gag me and just curled his hand around the back of my head, letting me work.
Good boy.
I didn’t say that aloud. Mostly because my mouth was full rather than any for concern that Max would be indignant about it. Slowly, I worked a third finger into his ass, feeling his muscles resist again. I didn’t have to tell Max to breathe because he instantly exhaled and bore down hard to let me all the way in. After his body finally gave in to my demands, I scissored my fingers apart as wide as I could while I swallowed him down again, my cheeks hollowing.
Max’s breathing picked up, his pants coming faster. I felt his balls tremble, heavy in my other hand as I worked him.
I knew that tempo. He was close.
If I hadn’t been working to a quick end, I’d had slowed myself down so I could explore that smooth skin he carefully maintained and lick his sack. Maybe suck each of his balls into my mouth one at a time the way I liked men to do to me, before giving him the rim job of the century. Unfortunately, I only had one goal right now.
Hot water beat down on us in a low drumming beat. Steam billowed in continuous clouds, ratcheting up the intensity. Max curled his hand into a fist against the tile as I scraped the safe edge of my teeth up, then down his length, before deep throating him again to go for the kill. I twisted my fingers as I started humming Fonsi’s, ‘Despacito,’ the song Max and I had danced to at the club that first night. I knew the effect the vibrations imitating the bass and pounding beat, would have on Max’s dick.
Max made a guttural sound in his own throat and his hips rocked a little harder, but I didn’t pull back to say, Fahrenheit.”, to stop him from fucking my face when he lost control and slammed into my throat over and over until my eyes watered.
Good boy.
“Ohhh, damn it, damn it… I’m coming…”
Just as he lost it, I loosened my throat and accepted every drop of that briny, warm liquid that coated my tongue and teeth before I swallowed. I lingered long enough for Max to ride out the orgasm before I slid my fingers free from the clenching warmth of his ass at the same time, I let his cock pop out of my mouth. With both hands now free, I was able to slide Max’s leg off of my shoulder, steadying him when his other abruptly buckled.
“Sweet baby Jesus.”
I got to my feet with just a subtle wince when my knees reminded me why shower sex was something I’d started avoiding as I got older. My hands slid up Max’s hips and sides, but before I could check in with him, Max’s hand curled firmly around the back of my neck and dragged me down for a heated kiss. My throat was sore, but my dick was all on board as he sucked my tongue into his mouth, obviously not giving a shit that his spunk was still coating it.
Definitely a nasty boy, and I was fucking getting off on it.
“Time for me to return the favor,” Max murmured against my mouth when he came up for air.
“Not in here. The hot water will probably run out soon.”
“It’s a nice hotel, so that’s doubtful. I also got rough towards the end there…”
His fingertips brushed my jaw in apology though his grin was wolfish. Sorry not sorry for sure.
I smirked, ignoring the new rasp in my tone. “Turn around.”
I was shocked when he didn’t respond with a smart-ass answer, just obeyed with an amused look before he braced his palms against the wall. A low purr of approval escaped his throat when I lathered my hands generously with the dark blue bodywash and worked it into his skin. I started at his shoulders, massaging as much as cleansing, before I continued working my way down his back.
Max wasn’t stacked with the kind of muscle most men only got from steroids and living at the gym, but his shoulders were broad, and his waist was narrow. Layers of lean, athletic muscle were piled in between. His arms and legs were strong, tanned from time spent outside like most Floridians. With his arms braced straight out against the wall, I could see the caduceus tattoo on his inner forearm. Intricately done in black and white, the shading was detailed enough to tell it wasn’t a cheap job. Nothing like the gang and jailhouse tattoo’s I’d gotten while in prison. I’d covered them all up with expensive, artfully done pieces a couple of years ago, so I recognized and appreciated good work. It suited him: a blend of artistic class, and the classic medical symbol of his profession.
My eyes narrowed when my hands reached his lower back, trying to figure out if I was seeing what I thought I was. I’d seen plenty of tramp stamps, both on my lovers and my misfits, but none of them had been of…
“Tweety Bird?”
“Huh?”
Max sounded distracted, probably because while the fingers of my left hand were trading the outlines of the familiar cartoon character that was surprisingly vivid, though too healed to be a new tattoo, my other hand was multitasking by working the bodywash between the globes of his ass to clean him thoroughly inside and out.
“The tramp stamp.”
Max groaned, dropping his head forward to rest it against his outstretched arms for moment, before raising it to look slightly over his shoulder at me. “Were you ever young and dumb?”
I grinned. “Uh huh.”
And I’d ended up in prison, not supporting the Looney Tunes franchise.
“And that why you suddenly went blind at that tattoo parlor?”
Max snorted. “I went with a girl I was sleepin’ with before I started medical school. She picked out Tweety for herself. I picked out somethin’ simple and tribal. Apparently, the tattoo artists were stoned and mixed up the designs. I was the first up.” He made a face. “That’s what happens when you go in for, ‘twenty dollars for a tattoo,’ night.”
“It doesn’t look that old.”
“I get it touched up every couple of years. Havin’ a faded out Tweety is more pathetic than rockin’ the little yellow fucker in the first place. I own my stupidity the same way I roll in the, ‘Virginity Rocks,’ t-shirt that Tara gave me last Christmas. I embrace the irony.” He shrugged. “It’s also the reason I told Addie-Cat that I take her for her first tattoo when she’s legal, so long as it’s not a cartoon character or something equally stupid. I’m willing to be the cautionary tales poster child.”
I snickered, then rinsed my hands under the water, before lathering my hands again. I made Max face me so I could wash his front, including his cock. Max’s eyes were dilating again, his dick stirring beneath my hand.
He was slightly below half-mast, but I doubted that’d stay the case for long.
“You’ve got ink too.”
“Yeah, though not from that kind of stupidity. They’re cover jobs.”
I expected an inquisition. Instead, Max lathered up his own hands to wash me the same way I’d done to him. He avoided my cock though, opting to leisurely tease my thighs with slow circles as an alternative, before trailing his touch up to my navel. He traced a circle around it, then drifted up even higher to tease my nipples. He lingered there, gently manipulating the bars.
“Planning to wash my hair too?”
“You don’t have much hair. Not quite a q-ball, but close.”
The tease in his tone made my lips twitch. “Keep being a smart-ass and I won’t fuck you.”
“That’d probably be more my loss more than yours. A dick like yours is meant to be fuckin’ worshipped.”
“You’re so fucking mouthy.”
“Not yet, but I will be once I get my lips around your dick.”
Max laughed as I dragged him out of the shower after turning off the water. We briefly enjoyed the plushness of the white bath towels, before Max tossed his to the floor, then yanked mine out of my hands. He gave it the same unceremonious treatment before I could neatly hang it up.
I twitched, but let it go because Max’s eyes blazed with focus, the water apparently having successfully completed its mission of sobering him up enough to make him a completely active participant in round two.
He kissed me and walked us backward into the bedroom. Max didn’t bother trying to fumble the duvet cover off. Instead, he flopped onto the bed on his back, then pulled me down on top of him, somehow managing not to break the connection of our mouths.
We competed for dominance over the kiss, every one of my nerve endings feeling strained. As if he sensed it, Max abruptly hooked his foot around my ankle to flip us. I blinked. He didn’t look strong enough, but he read my expression, grinning before he winked.
“I was born scrappy, sweetness. Now lay back. I want to return the favor.”
“If you make me come, I won’t be able to fuck you,” I reminded him, though at this point, I didn’t care who was on top. I just wasn’t going to walk around with blueberry balls.
“I know what I’m doin’, Roman. I just want you on the edge to see if I can break all that carefully held self-control. Besides, my blowies are infamous.”
Responding to his ‘Louisiana smartass’ became a distant priority when Max leaned down to press a light, tongue-centric kiss along the pulse in my throat, before working his way down my clavicle with lazy brushes of his lips and small flicks of his tongue. He worked methodically, not missing an inch of skin as he kissed across my upper chest, then dropped lower to lick a slow circle around my left nipple before switching to the right. That one he upped the ante on, using his teeth to manipulate the little balls on either end of the bar, then the tip between when it hardened. He didn’t wait for me to finish exhaling my pained pleasure, just bit down hard enough to make my back arch.
“Fucking hell!” It hurt, but when our eyes met, Max grinned, reading me again like my facial expressions were fucking tea leaves.
My cock tried to bore a hole through his midsection when he braced his weight on his arms so he could brush a slow kiss over my mouth, murmuring, “Fahrenheit?”
I shook my head, short and quick. Fuck no.
Max purred. “I figured you’d like that. The first time out, guys usually do the things to their partners that they like. You’re toothy but lucky for you, I get off on that shit. Giving and getting.”
“Kinky little fucker….”
“Pot and Kettle always end up hand in hand, Cher-Bear.”
“Just shut up and kiss me. My dick needs us to move the fuck on with the previously planned program.
Max smirked, stealing another quick kiss before he started that same slow parade of kisses all over again. He worked his way down the center of my chest, then my abs, making every muscle in my body clench with anticipation. Each kiss to my belly felt like a small, electric zap to my cock. My hips lifted to press up into Max’s abdomen. I was leaking already, my dick smearing thick streaks of pre-cum across his belly with every small thrust. Max made a sound of approval, the downward tilt to his hips keeping my cockhead burrowed into his skin until he blessedly moved on.
I was too far from the pillows to lean up against them, so I propped myself up on my elbows, needing to watch Max through my hooded gaze as he inched closer to his final destination. My hips bucked again when Max dipped the flat of his tongue into my navel to tease it with a single swipe. He moved on after that, kissing his way down my inner thighs. First my left, then my right, just like he’d done with my nipples. By the time he dragged his tongue across my sack and carefully sucked each nut into his mouth, treating them like something to be savored, I was officially one kiss away from losing my goddamn mind.
When Max swirled his tongue filthy around the bell head of my dick before sucking me down to the root, every single one of my nerve endings launched an individual assault that made my body vibrate closer to a meltdown.
I wanted to tangle my hand in his hair like I’d done earlier, but I didn’t trust myself not to fuck his face and hadn’t cleared that with him yet, so I clenched them into the duvet cover instead. Max immediately grabbed my right hand with his, lacing our fingers together before moving our linked hands to the back of his head. He slipped his hand free but left mine there.
Message received.
My fingers moved through the damp strands, clenching tight enough that it had to sting, but Max just moaned around my cock, obviously getting off on it.
“Too fucking hot... I’m close.”
Max drew off me just long enough to answer, his fingers curling around the base of my dick so that he could keep it against his cheek.
“Close enough that I should choke your dick off a little? I’m not done playin’, but I still want you to fuck me.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer, opting to suck me down even deeper, his tongue doing things that should’ve been illegal. This time, he wedged two fingers into his mouth beside my throbbing dick. When he removed them. They glistened wet with his saliva, and his other hand tightened almost too firmly around my cock when he saw my hips snap. His skillful manhandling staved off the orgasm I’ve been on the edge of, and my palate became Velcro when I felt the light press of a damp finger against my hole.
Max met my eyes, a brow lifting as if he was waiting for my go-ahead. I nodded.
It wasn’t the first time I’ve done this. I’d stopped worrying about measuring up to the bullshit machismo standards at the Latino community years ago, so switching interchangeably had been a permanent part of my sexual resume for a long time. Granted, most men wanted me to be on top. To be in charge. To be the one who took the lead. Between my natural mildly neurotic foibles, dominant streak, and the fact that logistics were generally easier that way because very few of my partners were anywhere as tall as me, I never minded it. But right now, Max was unraveling my self-control, and logistics meant bunk.
Enjoying a hard dick up my ass when a guy knew how to use it properly, didn’t make me less of a man. I was also under zero fucking delusion that Max didn’t know how to use his, even if he seemed content just fingering me right now.
The fingertip roaming over my crinkled hole was achingly slow in its exploration, but it’s press over my perineum made me lose complete control over my hips. They jerked down to meet Max’s touch, practically whoring my hole to him, inviting his intrusion. When he stopped and pulled his hands away from my body, rolling off the bed with the same liquid grace he displayed on the dance floor, I growled.
Max shushed me. “One sec, sweetness. I need to grab the lube and condom from my jacket.”
He moved toward the door where we’d left our clothes, fiddling inside his jacket for a moment before returning triumphantly with a tiny bottle of lube, and a foil wrapped condom. I was happy to see that his steps seemed steadier than they’d been before our shower.
“Maybe I should drop a note into the suggestion box about keeping condoms and lube in the nightstands. Or maybe on the pillows along with the little mints they usually put on the beds.”
“You. Talk. Too. Much.”
Max grinned as he popped the cap on the lube, carefully coating his fingers. He moved his lean body back down mine, keeping his gaze on me. “We still good?”
“You worry about you. If you do something I don’t like, I know what my word is.”
Max kissed my grumbling away, then settled on his arms between my thighs. His slick fingers found their place again, putting firmer pressure on my entrance. I inhaled deeply when two fingers dipped in slowly, allowing me to get used to the sensation. Scissoring them apart strained my body even though he was being gentle. Most men would’ve gone slower, preferring to build up from one, but Max had obviously been paying attention to how I responded to erotic pain. His hands were large enough that starting two fingers deep was a sharp burn and I ate that shit up.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Max. You’re killing me.”
“Now who’s talkin’ too much?”
He kissed along the crease of my left thigh, then bit hard, sucking up the same kind of mark I’d put on him earlier.
Fair was fair.
“Just relax… Let me do this. Let me have you,” Max murmured in between kisses, lips gentle. Tender.
Until he bit me again hard enough for my eyes to cross. It was guaranteed that my skin was going to bruise there, but it’d be easy to hide. While I wasn’t remotely closeted, I also didn’t usually do visible confirmation of having a sex life. My meddling band of Misfits all thought I worked more than I played. I wanted to keep it that way, but no one in their right mind would think that kind of mark was anything other than a lover’s bite. It being concealable was a good thing: all of the pleasure, but none of the gossip.
Another snag of Max’s teeth short circuited my brain. I was so distracted that I almost missed him sliding the slick those fingers all the way inside me.
Almost.
I sucked in air sharply, choked, then shook my head while I coughed and Max’s fingers immediately stilled, trying to let him know that if he stopped now, I was likely to kill him after I flipped him to his back and rode him until we both broke.
“We’re all good. You just caught me off guard.” With how fucking good it feels to have you peeling me apart with your fingers.
To his credit Max didn’t ask me to clarify further, though he did keep his eyes steadily on me as he slowly scissored them apart again, working his fingers in and out and all around to stretch me. When he finally curled them with enviable accuracy, the tips grazing my prostate, I almost came.
Max choked my dick off again hard, cutting off my orgasm though he couldn’t stop the heavy leaking of my cock. The skillful edging might kill me, but I couldn’t think of worse ways to go right now.
When he leaned over to catch the drip of precum at my slit, I laced my fingers behind my own head to keep from tangling them both in his hair. He’d given me permission to fuck his mouth earlier, but despite needing to come like yesterday, I didn’t want this to be over yet. This had started out as a favor to Ben, but it was all about us right now.
An upside to my restraint was that the new position made my back just arch enough to make it look like I was presenting on purpose. Max must’ve liked the visual though, because his sound of approval came out like a rumbling purr. I felt its vibrations roll across my skin when his mouth closed over my cock, latching on with strong suction.
He worked me as he sucked me expertly, sliding his fingers in and out of my ass while he bathed my dick with long, curling sweeps of his tongue. I didn’t need to be opened this thoroughly for a blowjob if I was going to be on top like Max kept saying he wanted, but he seemed to be intentionally taking his time to tease me into a frenzy. He was doing a damned good job too because my skin felt stretched too tight everywhere on my body from the overstimulation.
I clenched my inner muscles, trapping his fingers inside before he could pull them free again. Max responded by raking the safe edge of his teeth along the ridge of my cock head, working his tongue over the spongy tip until I felt a tremble of pain begin in my balls.
I was past blue at this point.
“Max…”
His name was a warning that he completely ignored. It wasn’t enough for him to tease me. No, the little fucker had to up the ante by taunting my rim after he withdrew his fingers to slowly circle the puffy edges with his fingertips.
“Stop fucking around, Max. To quote you, I need to come like a motherfucker,” I ground out between my clenched teeth.
“I told you, Roman,” Max said as he nudged my sack with his nose before blowing on my balls to alternate between the scorching heat of his mouth, and the coolness left behind when the damp was left to the mercy of both the air conditioning and the overhead fan.
“You’re goin’ to fuck me because it’s what we both ultimately want but consider this an early Christmas gift. Or just a thank you for savin’ me from someone who’d potentially be epically bad in bed.”
Max gave me a moment—less than one, really—because one second, I was hard and craving, the next, I was engulfed in that sizzling heat again as he sucked me off fast and filthy, throwing away all the finesse he’d been using to drive me out of my mind as he plugged me hard with three fingers.
His head was bowed, high cheekbones emphasizing his flush when his lips hollowed. The sun had set hours ago and though the ceiling fan had been turned on when we’d walked in, the lights in the bedroom were still off because Max had launched his sensual attack before I could flip them on. Fortunately, light made its way through the open bathroom door to cast shadows over his long, leanly muscled body. His hair was plastered damply to his forehead, eyes half closed as he moaned around my cock.
He looked like sex on a stick.
He was also unrelenting, and just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, his long fingers nailed my prostate with hard deliberation, and I lost it. All the electricity that he’d built up in my cock and balls with the war games masquerading as foreplay, spilled out, seizing up all of my muscles like I’d been caught in the middle of a Florida lightning storm.
Max still had my cock down his throat so I couldn’t see my cum filling his mouth. Absently, I wondered how the fuck he was going to swallow it all if my body kept going at this rate, but he almost managed. A few drops drizzled from the right corner of his mouth when he finally pulled back but rather than wiping them away with his hand, Max swept the spot clean with the pad of his thumb, then popped it into his mouth to suck it bare, like he didn’t want to let any of it go to waste.
I was drained, but that move was filthy as fuck, and hot enough to fuel one last burst of energy. My fingers curled into his hair and when I tugged hard, Max got the message.
He slid back up my body to kiss me, the lingering remains of my spunk in his mouth fed back to me. Now that some of the edge had been taken off for both of us, we slowed down, seemingly on the same page of not being able to handle more than lazy necking as we recharged.
Max rolled off me and propped himself up on one arm. He was still close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Roman…”
“Mmm?”
“Are you more on the side of alive or dead?”
I snorted when he grinned. “Shut up. Payback’s coming.”
“I’m countin’ on it. But while you recharge your batteries, I need a drink,” he said as he got out of bed.
“Max…”
He immediately turned around with both hands up in the classic sign of mea culpa when he caught the warning. He was probably still drunk, but at least he didn’t look like it anymore.
“Of water, sweetness. Just water. I’ll bring you some back too.”
He winked and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the faucet running for a moment before he reappeared with two glasses filled almost to the top. He paused to nudge the light switches on with his shoulder, and the room was suddenly flooded with light. Thankfully they weren’t LED’s, so it was tolerable once my eyes adjusted.
I sat up, then took one of the water glasses from Max. I wasn’t a fan of drinking from the tap, but I didn’t feel like getting up to grab one of the bottles of water from the basket overflowing with Keurig coffee cups and sweeteners, that was on the corner of the same table hosting the microwave and coffeemaker.
“Thanks, though I could’ve done without all the lights.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, sitting up against the pillows to drain his glass before he set it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “And too bad. I like seein’ everythin’ you’re bringin’ to the table. And I know it doesn’t really bother you, or you’d have done that ‘eeeek!” squeal thing chicks do before they try to wrap themselves up like burritos in the nearest oversized mountain of fabric.”
I grinned, then polished off my water before handing the glass to him so he could put it beside his. “I don’t like girls, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Too bad. They can be fun.”
“What did I tell you about talking about other people while you’re in bed with me?”
“Completely different parts, so there’s no need for jealousy, lover.”
I knew he was baiting me on purpose, so I ignored him. “You feeling better?”
“I came my brains out and plan to do it again after we recharge. How could I be anythin’ other than okay?”
“You know what I meant.”
Max was quiet for a moment then shrugged, his expression shifting into something more genuine than his usual cocky confidence. Seeing that change reminded me of why I didn’t drink past a barely buzzed level. Alcohol had a way of breaking down the careful restraints we put in place for ourselves and stripped away all inhibitions until they revealed windows into the truths we wanted to hide from the world.
“I’m not completely sober. But I’m also not drunk enough to forget why I got so fuckin’ trashed in the first place.” He shrugged. “I’ll get there. Not tonight, and probably not fuckin’ tomorrow ether though I’ll appreciate every moment of you givin’ it the good ol’ college try.”
He was close enough to me that I was able to brush a lazy pattern or meaningless symbols into the skin of his hip. I was surprised when he didn’t move away, but didn’t say anything.
“When you fuck shit up bad enough, it takes a long time for life to get back to normal. Especially when you run in the same circles. The easy out would be just cutting Sam off.”
“Cuttin’ Sam off is a negative,” he said without hesitation. “Aside from bein’ my best friend, Sam comes with his family. A family that’s as much mine as his. I’d do anythin’ for all of them. I’d do the same for Tara too, though probably not before she tore my balls off for bein’ part of the ‘overprotective patriarchy.’ ” His lips curved slightly. “Bottom line, sweetness, I’m not goin’ anywhere, and I’ll never come between Sam and Ben. I’m just indulgin’ in a pity party for one tonight, with a last-minute guest. These are rare by the way, so enjoy your front row seat.”
I propped up on my left arm so I could lay on my side and face him. “You need a plan for tomorrow.”
“Your OCD’s showin’ again baby. Might want to tuck that back in the way most people do their crazy down south.” He looked amused, but there was no bite to his words.
“Having a plan means less mess, and zero worry about being cut up into little pieces and fed to fish by some random pyscho you hook up with.”
My reference to his own words earlier drew those kiss swollen lips into a smile. “To quote the original mean girl herself, Ms. O’Hara, ‘tomorrow’s another day.’ Besides, my schedule at the hospital keeps me busy ninety-five percent of the time. Durin’ those hours I live on coffee, not booze. Which I know is off the table right now, but I could use a cigarette. I have a pack in my jacket. Want to join me on that bistro table outside on the balcony.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“For fuck’s sake man.” Max sounded exasperated though he looked entertained by my self-regulation, not put off. “You don’t smoke, and you don’t drink, yet you own and operate two of the most exclusive, and successful nightclubs in Miami. How are all those things possible in the same orbit?”
I shifted position to lay on my back, curling my left arm beneath my head for support, the right resting with my hand splayed lightly across my midsection.
“They’re possible because I got involved in a lot of stupid, hood rat shit in the past when I did the first two. Selling the same shit I smoked, didn’t work out well for me, so I learned self-discipline, and to control both my temper and my situation at all times. That means limited booze in social situations, and no drugs or nicotine ever. I don’t even take aspirin unless I really need to.”
Max was quiet for a moment before he said, “Are you talkin’ about when you went to prison?”
I didn’t ask how he knew about that. While I didn’t broadcast it, Ben knew about my record. So did Sam, his sister-in-law Sofia, and Tara. It was inevitable that Max would find out.
“Yeah. My stint was lessened by a plea deal and good behavior. When I got out, I went home to my mom who immediately slammed the door in my face when she saw me. Haven’t seen her since. She returns every letter, birthday and Christmas card I send her unopened, with the checks I’ve written still inside.”
“Shit.” Max looked genuinely apologetic for having opened that can of worms, though I knew my eyes were calm when they met his. I’d had years to accept and compartmentalize. Shit happened and even though the shelves of bookstores across the world were lined with parenting books about forgiving everything and anything your kids did, people weren’t robots or AI who could just look at situations pragmatically without emotions from previous circumstances influencing their mindset and decision making. My father walking out on us when I was five had turned my mother a single mom in a bad neighborhood, trying to raise a kid as best as she could on her own, away from the drugs and gangs while she worked two jobs. That night at the courts had been visible proof she’d failed, long after she’d already had to accept that her son was one of those gangbangers and drug-dealers.
In a perfect world, she’d be able to look me up online, see how far I’d come, and know that a lot of my resilience had come from her. Unfortunately, pride was sometimes my Achilles Heel and also a trait I’d inherited from her.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, unless you want me to offer you the same condolences about Sam. You talk a lot of shit but I know it’s fucking you up, or you wouldn’t be here with me.”
“I’m here with you because you kept me away from the horny masses.”
I ignored his teasing. “And like you said before, our best friends were close even before they agreed to a life sentence with jewelry, so I’ve heard things about you too. Like how you’re a successful pediatric surgeon who does a lot of pro-bono cases through the hospital when families can’t swing the cost.”
Max’s entire body stiffened, but he didn’t look away from me.
“You fuck like you were put on this earth for no other reason, yet a Cuban birdie who has a thing for too much sugar in his damn coffee, told me you take time out for pizza nights with Sam’s family to hone some of your club skills playing ‘Just Dance,’ with his nieces.”
“It helps Emma practice for her dance recitals,” he said mildly.
“Max, you don’t need to pull the hardass shit with me. I was a master at it, and it got me sent to prison. S’not worth the fronting. It’s also not wrong to give a fuck about people or have your own tribe. It’s not even wrong to deep dick whomever you want, as often as you want, so long as you’re not stupid with yourself just because Sam isn’t part of your equation in the way you wish he was.”
“Throw some pig Latin in there next time. You’ll sound more like Yoda.”
“Maybe, but I’m not wrong.”
Max was silent for another long moment. Then he nodded slightly. “Fair enough… but this conversation has officially entered, ‘soberin’ me up with depression’ territory. There’s only so much stupid I can admit to in one night, so let’s reset and talk about next steps to the road of forgettin’ for the next few hours.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed. “How’d I do earlier?”
Max looked almost relieved at the stupid question I offered as an out.
“For a while, I wasn’t thinkin’ about anythin’ except how much I wanted you to fuck me in the shower, then again on this bed, so I’d say mmm, 80/20.”
“If we’d had condoms in the shower, the bed would be round two not three, and I’d be a hundred straight across the board. I was working with a handicap.”
Max chuckled, visibly relaxing as the conversation returned to a topic he knew how to navigate. “Mmm can we even really consider those rounds? Teenagers would say that blowjobs aren’t, ‘real sex.’”
“Only to their parents when they get caught. Body fluids happened, so whatever comes next in this bed is absolutely round three.”
“What’s goin’ to come next is me, if you can get it up again.”
“The best thing about being over forty papi, is not giving a shit about life’s realities. We all get old. But with age comes self-control. The longer it takes me to get hard again, is just time I’ll spend making you forget anything you’re beginning to remember.”
Max laughed again. “Good to know. So, when’s this third act startin’?”
“As soon as you get up and get your tie from the pile over there. Put it on the nightstand with the lube and condom, then get back in bed.”
“My tie?”
“Yeah, your tie, because mine’s Armani and quality enough to keep wearing. Yours needs to be burned.”
“Ooooooh, I’m going to tell Emma you said that. It’ll be the grade-school equivalent of knives out.”
“Does your mouth ever stop?”
“You and so many others in the world would be devastated if it did.”
Max winked when my lips twitched, my smile barely contained. He hummed as he got out of bed to get the tie, then settled it on top of the nightstand in a snakelike coil, putting the condom and lube beside it for easy access later. The mattress dipped beneath his weight when he sprawled out beside me, making his mouth ground zero for a kiss.
The glass of water he’d drank hadn’t washed out every remnant of bourbon, or the taste of both of us from his tongue. The blended flavors were a sensual reminder of every fantastically filthy thing we’d done so far.
“God you can kiss,” he murmured.
“I can kiss you more if you shut the fuck up,” I said, nibbling the corners of his mouth, then tugging at Max’s lower lip with a playful nip. I skimmed my teeth over his shoulder, biting down just enough to have his skin bunch on my tongue without bruising. He tasted like soap, and the salty edge of sweat.
I rolled over completely to get Max’s body beneath mine. His body went lazily pliant as my hands roamed freely over every inch of him from his stiffening rosy nipples, flat, hard belly, and equally hard dick. Each touch was confident and deliberate, but never lingered long, or with enough pressure to satisfy the need I knew was building up in him when the blunt edges of his short fingernails dug soft furrows into my back as he let his own hands explore.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
“Told you…with age comes wisdom.”
I ignored his snort though I was sure he felt my grin against the warm flesh of his chest. The heat of his body was burning my cheek as I circled his right nipple with my tongue while simultaneously twisting his left one between my right pointer finger and the firmer flesh of my thumb until it tightened into a definitive peak.
A man’s body was a broad spectrum of hard and soft, especially men who took care of themselves. Max kept it tight, but the tender soft spots of skin beneath his underarms, along his ribs and his inner thighs, were just as erotic as the firm, lean muscles everywhere else that I explored.
As his internal temperature began to spike, the natural scent of his arousal was beginning to be overpower the shower soap. It was a ridiculous turn on, just like the rasp of his sparse body hair against the palms of my hands and my lips were. I was grateful he hadn’t adopted the popular South Beach trend of being completely hairless everywhere. I wasn’t into wading through layers of chest hair to find a man’s nipples and abs, but I also didn’t want to sleep with someone who barely looked adolescent. The pale, thin dusting along Max’s skin highlighted all the key parts perfectly.
His stomach jumped with every kiss I ghosted over his ribs. The hollow of his navel—flat with a slight indentation to it—invited the safe edge of my teeth to play. I indulged it by nibbling lightly. I didn’t expect the surprised chuckle that accompanied Max’s immediate squirming.
Someone was ticklish.
I grinned against his skin at the same time that I reached my hand down to cup him, squeezing lightly. I took my time, making mental notes about what he liked most by the way his body reacted, so I could revisit those spots later. His hands drifted down to my shoulders, and I bit his hip a little harder, getting off on the feel of his fingers digging into the muscles of my shoulders.
“Roman…. “he moaned.
I glanced up to watch Max’s face. His teeth were digging into his lower lip so hard I was sure I’d feel a subtle indent when I kissed him later. His knees were spreading wider apart, hips undulating to encourage my touch when I spit into my own palm, then wrapped my fingers around his cock. Max cried out again when I started to stroke up and down his length at the same time that I bit down hard on the cut above his left hip. His body arched up in response, his knees rising when his heels dug into the mattress.
When I glanced up again to see Max propped against the pillows, his eyes were too glazed over for it to have been anything other than an instinctual move.
I still approved.
Rimming wasn’t always on my priority list, but I knew Max was clean. We’d also just been in the shower, and I’d done a very thorough job of soaping and rinsing every inch of him, inside and out. I could’ve just fingered him all the way up to the main event, but I was good with my tongue, and wanted to see if I could make his expression go from dazed to completely checked out.
I kissed the right side of his hip, then his left before I stayed there, even as my thumb brushed along the warm path of his taint to circle his hole lazily. Stroking his thighs, I nudged them further apart with my shoulder to expose those most intimate parts before I laid a gentle kiss on the tender skin of his sack, then flicked my tongue just below it so that my intention was crystal clear even though I asked the question anyway.
“We good?”
Where Max’s gaze had been dazed before, now it was suddenly hyper aware. I grinned when he nodded once, hard and fast.
“Turn over, papi.”
I shifted so Max could obey, getting onto his hands and knees though he followed the guidance of my hands when I stroked them along his back and hips to get him into a more inverted, vulnerable position with his cheek on the pillow and his ass in the air, that gave me access to everything I wanted.
“Relax,” I murmured, then nestled my face between Max’s pert cheeks, rubbing the scruff of my jaw against his tender skin before grazing his entrance with my teeth, biting just a little for shock value before I soothed the spot with a long, lush stroke of my tongue.
Max’s breath caught as he startled, then exhaled breathily, my name thrown in there somewhere between the low pants. He was obviously on the same page I was about having me eat his ass like he was a five-course meal at a top-tier restaurant, moaning when I nipped the crimped edges of his hole again. As soon as he relaxed and I felt him pushing back against me, I lavished his opening with attention, kneading his ass, lower back, and upper thighs with both hands as I fucked his hole shallowly with my tongue, getting off on seeing him not be ‘on’ for once.
When Max spread his legs wider, pulling his knees up to give me more room, I pulled him closer and took every offered inch, licking and sucking like I intended to stay here all night. Unfortunately, we had a limited timeframe, and I wanted to be inside him more intimately.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before I reached over to grab the lube, condom, and Max’s tie from the nightstand. I’d never been so grateful to have the ridiculously long arm span that made buying shirts off the rack tough.
“Hold onto the headboard.”
Max slid up the almost slippery smooth material of the duvet then knelt and wrapped both hands around the highest bar of the antique bronze bedframe. Even when he was ‘obeying,’ Max’s movements were deliberate, graceful, and made me think of kids who said, ‘I’m doing it because I want to, not because you said so.’
I’d reached for his tie as soon as he’d started to move so when he’d situated himself with his thighs spread apart for balance, I pressed up again the long line of his back and reached around to loop one end to Max’s right wrist and knot it, before repeating the move on the left. A slow shudder slid through his body as my breath warmed the back of his neck while I dragged the longer end to the shorter before knotting and tying it off again.
It was a light restraint, simple enough for either of us to quickly release if he used his safe word, while keeping his hands free enough to hold onto the headboard. Had we been at my place, I’d have done this with proper leather cuffs. Then again, if he was at my place under the right circumstances, we’d have had a longer talk before trying out controlled bondage games. Handcuffs would’ve been just one of several options.
Max dropped his head slightly forward to brush kisses along the inside of my wrists whenever I was close enough to his lips, my cock jerking in approval when he found my pressure points.
“Patience,” I told my dick, ignoring Max’s low rumble of laughter. “We’re getting there.”
“If you got there sooner than later, I think me and your cock would be on the same page.”
“Neither of you gets a vote. We still okay here?”
“What was it that you said before? I know my word, worry about yours?”
The slap my palm delivered to his ass was hard enough to cut Max off mid-sentence, but also something he could use said word to object to if he didn’t like it. I was testing the waters. When Max made a strangled sound deep in his throat, eyes closing, I did it again, then rubbed my hand lightly over the blush pink marks marring his soft golden skin as I tried to ignore the possessive satisfaction curling low in my gut.
I reveled in the feel of his warm skin pressing back against my crotch and briefly considered letting him and my dick have their way after all. The option was taken off the table by Max though when he tilted his head up and back so I could capture his mouth. My tongue teased the corners of it before I nipped his lower lip, then the upper, eventually deepening the teasing into a full exploration of his mouth when he invited me in with parted lips.
“I fucking love your mouth.”
“Only when you’re kissin’ it.” There was a subtle panting note in his tone, though he was smirking when we broke the kiss.
“Smartass.”
“Always.” He paused, then added, “Please, Roman?”
One word, like he’d somehow realized how it could own me. Just him believing that, made it tempting to change course entirely to throw him off, but my dick was hard again, thumbing its nose at my ‘over forty’ refractory guidelines.
“Of course, you start using one-word responses now,” I said as I skimmed my lips and teeth over Max’s shoulder and kept dropping down: dragging my tongue along his spine, exploring one vertebra at a time, nipping then licking each knot before moving on to the next one. “Fortunately for you, I know what it feels like having you in my mouth, making those sounds that have me ready to pound nails.”
My tongue drew a lazy pattern into the base of Max’s spine as I used both my hands to push his thighs far enough apart to make sliding my body between them easy after I’d grabbed the lube. I coated my fingers liberally, somehow managing to keep them from smearing onto the sheets when I rolled to my back with my head propped by the pillows. With his hands restrained, there wasn’t much Max could do except wait for my next move.
His strong thighs trembled, and a shudder rolled down his spine when I got into a better position on the bed to kiss his left inner thigh. I nibbled my way up to the underside of his sack, then gently rubbed one slick finger through the furrow between his cheeks. At this angle I could see, as well as feel, when that puckered skin gave way beneath my touch, still stretched from our shower session. I teased him, circling his entrance with a slow, wide arc meant to drive him crazy. I was always considerate in bed, but payback really was a bitch.
He was loose enough for me to get one finger into him easily and we both groaned at the same time. The headboard rattled as Max shifted restlessly, but I ignored it since it was just sexually frustrated noise, not the word Max knew would make me stop. I scooted down a little so the angle was better for me to keep working my fingers into him. I moved them in and out, slowly scissoring and twisting them.
Max swore at me in a mishmash of English, Spanish, and what must’ve been the Cajun French he’d mentioned earlier. I wasn’t familiar with the dialect, but it was pretty sounding trash talk.
His inner muscles were squeezing down on my fingers each time Max deliberately clenched, but he wasn’t as tight, which had been my goal. I wasn’t vain, but I also wasn’t stupid. I was a lot to take, even with the proper prep. This wasn’t about macho pride or bragging rights, just fact: water was wet, and I had a big dick.
After nipping at the edge of Max’s sack, I sucked first his right nut, then the left, as two fingers became three. My thumb was stronger than my pointer and index fingers were on their own, so it was easier to get a stable, harder pump that made Max’s hips buck even though he couldn’t drop low enough to ride my face. The tie kept him restrained just a few inches too high, and he said something in French again.
“English and Spanish are your only options if you want me to understand.”
“Which one will get you to fuck me? Like right now?”
Max sounded wrecked; his smile as tight as the delicate skin stretched taught over the length of his fully erect dick.
“Is that what you want? I can keep going like this for a while. I’m an old guy, remember?”
A sound that couldn’t be described as anything other than rude desperation, made me grin. I pulled my fingers free from Max’s body, then wiped off the thick coating of lube off on the far end of the duvet cover so there’d be absolutely no chance of us accidentally dragging that part over us when we eventually fell asleep.
I slid out from between Max’s thighs, reaching for the condom first, then the little bottle of lube that’d momentarily been lost between the sheets. I didn’t open it yet, dragging the rough edge of the foil wrapper across Max’s shoulders first, then lightly down the long line of his back till it teased the top of his crack.
“Want me to untie you first?”
“Only if you want to.”
My hard nip to his left shoulder was the answer to that question.
I’d mastered the art of opening and rolling on protection with my teeth and one hand years ago—at an age when most men were still learning to fumble a woman’s bra—so the foil packet was torn open quickly. The latex sleeve just as speedily sheathed my hard cock before I grabbed the lube.
I kissed the nape of Max’s back in silent apology for the delay, but he still made impatient noises until he heard the tell-tale snick of the bottle opening again. The slick coated my fingers, and I spread it liberally over my length to coat the condom before using the remainer on Max, who bent his knees slightly and angled his legs to give me better access as I worked him open one last time. Getting my three fingers in him was easy, his body impatiently sucking me in,
“Yer’ takin’ too damn long.” Max’s grammar took a hit as his arousal intensified his drawl. Word endings were being swallowed up, and syllables drowned like the city of Atlantis.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re startin’ to sound like Sam. He never wan-“
Max didn’t get to finish that verbal trip down memory lane.
I bit down on his shoulder hard enough to leave the indent of my teeth, while at the same time, plunging four fingers deep into the hot depths of his core. He cried out, but by now I knew the different noises he made.
That wasn’t a pained sound, and a glance over his shoulder showed his erection hadn’t flagged a bit.
“You wanted to forget, right? Say his name again while you’re in this bed with me and I’ll tie those knots properly and make you watch as I stroke myself off until I explode all over your face. You’ll be coated with my fucking spunk, with no way to forget tonight until you figure out how to unbind yourself and shower all the evidence off. I’m not the guy you want, but I’m the one here. We clear?”
Max’s eyes were unfocused when he tilted his head back to look up at me. He nodded slightly, then leaned up as much as he could to invite a kiss. I covered his mouth with mine, freely taking everything that he was offering me.
Despite the initial rough entry, I forced myself to keep the movement of my fingers as slow and deep as I could, encouraged by each pleasured hiss and strangled moan spilling from Max’s parted lips. When we broke the kiss, he ducked his head again so all I could see was the curve of his neck, and the tense set of his shoulders.
If I’d had my way, I’d redefine foreplay by teasing him until he lost all words, especially after Sam’s name had slid off his lips and triggered a possessive instinct that wasn’t appropriate because we’d agreed on no fucking strings.
But then Max growled, “Roman… fucking PLEASE…”
He’d trusted me enough to restrain him and was playing into every fantasy I had. He’d also proven that he could be a creative little fucker. I doubted Max’s idea of payback would cause me actual pain by medical standards, but I considered a severe case of blue balls high on the spectrum of agony. None of that was worth being stupid and refusing to bury myself balls deep in this man who was a fucking jack-in-the box of horny, pleasurable surprises.
My lips twitched as, ‘No one wants a Charlie in the box,’ slid through my mind. The last thing I needed was another Misfit Fucking Toy, even though Max would fit right in with the rest of them and their demons. He might even become an unofficial mascot.
Keeping that to myself, I slid my fingers out of his body and lined myself up against him, his spine tucked up hard along my chest and abs in an almost perfect fit. I let Max dominate my mouth in a fierce kiss when I leaned forward after he tilted his head up. I couldn’t taste the bourbon anymore, just to blend of him and I, which flipped every one of my most base, primal switches.
I curled one hand around Max’s throat, my thumb stroking lightly across his windpipe. A growl slid out of my throat when he pushed his hips back and I realized that even though he was taller than some of my past hook-ups, this position wasn’t going to work with the almost half foot difference between us.
I stayed where I was but released his throat despite his whined protest. “Angle’s bad,” I said, going for the quickest explanation.
When I moved to unwrap his hands, Max took control of the situation, muttering what sounded like ‘fuck this,’ before he let go of the headboard and raised his arms up over his head as he leaned back, so I ended up with the silky material of his horrendous tie looped around the nape of my neck, and a lap full of Max.
I nipped at his jaw I sat back on my haunches, my thighs creating a temporary chair situation to stabilize him until my hand guided my cock down to the puckered skin below his taint. Max’s breath punched out of his throat with a grateful groan as I slowly pushed in so just the head of my cock breached him. My lips brushed his shoulders with kisses to settle him as I wrapped one arm across his chest, guiding him till he straddled me backward properly, and had full control of how fast to drive this train.
No matter the speed he chose, each time I thrust up or he ground down, my cock would end up wedged so deep in his ass that if Max ignored the special kind of head games inspired by a proper fucking— the kind that made even the most impossible situations seem possible—and denied that he’d practically felt me in the back of his throat, I’d call him a liar.
“Fuck…I can feel… feel your heartbeat,” Max moaned, his head lolling back against my shoulder. “Fucking pulsing… throbbing… But it doesn’t hurt,” he added, almost too quickly, like he had my number by now, and was afraid I’d stop to ask if he was alright, or worse, pull out.
That ship has fucking sailed, baby.
“Having a huge dick has its advantages,” I said, hearing the teasing note in my own voice. I brushed a kiss to the upper curve of his ear, not moving yet. I wanted to give him the time I knew he needed to adjust, even if he wouldn’t ask for it.
It wasn’t easy considering that I wanted to test the strength of the damn mattress, but I needed to wait until he gave me the go-ahead, no matter how much all that slick, tight heat around me was testing my self-control….
“Max?”
He didn’t bother asking what my silent question was. “Drive it like you stole it, Roman.”
Bad porno lines got a pass from this moment till tomorrow morning because we were both strung too tight right now. His erection had briefly flagged for a minute when I’d bottomed out, but it found new life after I spit thickly into my hand, then wrapped my hand around his cock firmly and started stroking. I waited till he was fucking into my palm, the head of his cock slick and red as it poked out through the tight tunnel of my fist before I started rocking into him. His hips bucked upward then back, taking me balls deep each time. He'd set the pace, and I matched it, driving into him hard until we found a rhythm that worked for us. Every time I rocked up into him, Max pushed down, his own athleticism working on overdrive as his strong legs absorbed the shock of my thrusts, giving as good as he got. His ass flexed in my lap as we worked each other like a manic see-saw. I saw stars every time that my thighs met the backs of his.
When he murmured, ‘hand’, I arched my eyebrow in momentary confusion. Since he was still working his dick in and out of the hand curled around it, I assumed he was referring to the one on his hip. I had a feeling I knew what he wanted, but when I wrapped my palm around the front of his throat again with gentle pressure, his heavy shudder and the new spurt of slickness in my fist confirmed my suspicion.
Kinky little fucker.
His strangled moan when my thumb stroked along the tendons in his throat, drew all the moisture from my mouth and encouraged my balls up to rest in the curve under my cock.
I rarely engaged in breathplay with my lovers even though I had a list of kinks as vast as a day was long. You had to know what you were doing, as well as have complete trust between you and your partner. Me knowing what I was doing wasn’t an issue, but Max trusting me enough….
“You’re gripping me so tight inside, Max. Is that what you want? My hand on you like this, almost too tight?”
Max shuddered again, likely nerves more than strain because I was being so careful. He nodded as much as he was able to within my restraint, then tilted his head back eagerly, offering his throat in willing surrender.
Fuck.
“Fahrenheit,” I said to remind him. When Max nodded, I exhaled slowly, watching his flushed face and vivid eyes as I squeezed just hard enough to make it difficult for him to breathe. He still had control over his movements, taking my dick at his own pace, but he was letting me control this, literally allowing me to hold his life in hands.
Intense as fuck... and it twisted something up inside of me. Forget potentially hooking up with a random modern day serial killer who’d feed him to the fish.
My teeth scraped his ear as my fingers tightened just a bit more, his pulse beating frantically against my palm. “I hope you don’t do this shit at random, Max,” I murmured. “That’s stupider than not wrapping it before you go tapping it. I know what I’m doing. Not everyone does, so promise me you won’t be stupid.”
We didn’t have time for me to try and unpack why this was suddenly so important to me but I needed him to acknowledge what I was saying.
Max’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he rolled his hips back as if getting my cock right where he wanted it, which also released some of the pressure on his throat. His body stilled for a moment and when his eyes opened again, they locked on my face. There was a hint of something in them that made me think he was going to respond like a smartass, saying something like, ‘It’s not my first rodeo,’ or that “Move your sexy Cuban Hulk ass.’ Surprise lifted my eyebrows when he just nodded again.
“I’m a doctor, Roman. Even being fucked up never makes me stupid. Not this way. But I told you… I know you’re a good guy, and a deliciously kinky motherfucker. I trust you.”
He swallowed around the subtle hoarseness in his voice, catching his breath before he leaned into my hand again. Not with blind drunk trust, but with complete assuredness that I’d take care of him and give him what he needed right now.
I was turned on almost to the point of losing control, but I held back, just stroking my thumb over his pulse for a moment, my hand still unmoving around his cock but not moving. I had to reign this back, keep it to the one and done business model we’d agreed upon earlier. Unfortunately, I could use one hand to count the number of times I’d done this with a one-night stand, and I’d still have four fingers left over. Greg had been a professional, and a friend of Ben’s, so I’d never really counted him before.
I was counting him now.
My fingers closed around Max’s throat, choking him gently as I started stroking him off again, building back to a rhythm Max matched almost immediately, moving with me and using his own weight to cut off his breath against my hand whenever he rocked forward, slowly picking up speed, as demanding of my own body as I was of his.
Max started to choke as his lungs pleaded for more air. I loosened my grip to give him a good gasp, then tightened my hand again as Max’s own pace quickened, all that lean muscle working beneath his skin as he moved faster, leaning in harder, forcing my hand back when he tilted his head back for a kiss.
“That’s it,” I murmured, hearing the rough note in my own words that made the encouragement sound more desperate than I wanted it to when I kissed him back.
My muscles were starting to ache from the effort of keeping a steady pace while being mindful of the fragility of Max’s throat beneath my hand. I nipped Max’s bottom lip, hearing the tremble in his inhalation. All our earlier teasing was burnt away by the intense need we’d stirred up until it was riding us both so hard that following Max’s directive to ‘drive it like I stole it,’ was going to end up in the best fucking wreck possible once we let go.
Our bodies were both slick with a fine sheen of sweat from the effort we were exerting, but his arms around my neck kept us stable. When Max turned his face slightly so that his damp cheek was against mine, friction warmed our skin each time we moved. His breath was hot on my neck, filling the hollow of my throat. Every pant felt like a butterfly kiss on my skin, and I tightened my hold on his throat for a solid five beats before I let him inhale raggedly.
“God, that’s it. Keep going. Just like that. Harder, Roman,” he said, gasping then moaning when I gave him exactly what he wanted. What he needed. He needed to feel me stretching him apart, needed to feel his body struggling against its physical limitations because he wanted this so bad.
I wanted that to.
Fucking needed it.
I drove in hard, canting my hips to seek out that kill zone spot gay men missed almost as often as straight guys did the infamous, ‘G-spot’ in their female partners, simply because they were thinking about their own pleasure instead of their partner’s. I could be a detached, pragmatic prick, but I wasn’t selfish, especially not in bed, and experience easily guided me to find that little bundle of nerves that’d light Max up. When the sounds Max was making stopped sounding human, I considered it mission accomplished.
Max’s pitch changed again when my pace picked up, his inner walls feeling like obscene velvet around me. The sound of our bodies meeting filled the room: a driving beat underscored by Max’s moans interspersed with my own, and the creak of the bed frame. A bead of sweat dropped from my forehead and landed on Max’s shoulder, then slid down his chest. If I could’ve, I’d have followed the trail with my tongue to taste the salt on his body, but at this angle I had to be satisfied with the fact that not even a whisper of air could’ve made its way between our bodies right now.
The shudders vibrating through Max’s body to mine, told me without words that he was close. Game over was on the horizon for both of us. We’d both come already, but my hand was stripping Max’s cock hard and smooth again, my saliva long gone, but unneeded now that he was leaking steadily. I locked my hand around his throat again and clenched hard enough that I felt his pulse slam into my palm in erotic anticipation.
I broke the kiss first so that I could take a breath. Max’s cock throbbed in my hand as I licked under his ear, murmuring into it. “Come on, papi,” I whispered hoarsely. “You’re gonna come so hard for me, Max. I’m gonna steal your breath, just like you fucking stole mine “Dámelo…”
I’d be pissed at myself later for the words that were worse in their truth than Max’s bad porno lines, but right now I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit because after I loosened my hand to allow him a breath, Max fucking wailed and gave it up just liked I’d told him too. His head lolled back against my shoulder as he fell over the edge into his pleasure, shooting sticky heat into both my hand and the sheets.
His arms were still bound with his tie and looped around the back of my neck, but he wasn’t making the miniscule effort needed to free himself from the knot that was more for show than any real control, as I fucked him through his orgasm.
Despite my own cockiness earlier when I’d told Max I could outlast him with learned discipline, I tumbled off that cliff right the fuck after him, gut-punched when his raspy tone—like sandpaper wrapped in velvet—registered in my ears.
“Fill me up, Roman.”
It was too much. Too good.
My vision blurred when I shot into the condom harder than I had down Max’s throat earlier.
The world bled away as my ragged breath overtook any other sound in the room, including Max. All I could focus on was how he kept clenching around me with little spasms, like earthquake aftershocks, driving me fucking crazy until I felt like I was going to crawl out of my fucking skin. My fingers were wet with his spunk, and his temple was tucked into my neck. He clenched around me one last time, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. Then he tilted his head so he could nudge his nose again against my jaw.
“I think you severed my spine.”
“It’s one way to keep you in this bed.”
He chuckled with tired amusement as I reached up to release one end of the knotted tie so Max could get feeling back into his arms before I tumbled us to the mattress in a sweaty, exhausted heap, my slowly softening cock still buried inside him until I could move again.
Max hissed his displeasure when I finally pulled out to get rid of the condom. I tied it off, then leaned over the edge of the bed to toss it into the garbage can by the nightstand: an easy shot I should’ve been able to make with my eyes closed.
I missed by a mile.
Max snickered when I swore, obviously delighted by how grossed out I was even though the condom didn’t break. I made a face, but didn’t roll out of bed to retrieve it, or to get a warm washcloth to clean us both off. Apparently, my usual post-orgasm protocols were as mixed up as I felt.
He was still laying on his side where I’d left him, and didn’t pull away when I ran my hand down the length of his shoulder to get the temperature of the room. We hadn’t pre-planned that extra intensity, but that didn’t mean aftercare got tossed out the window.
“You okay?”
“Severed spine. Jelly legs. Not able to hobble, let alone run, darlin’. Job well done,” he murmured, sounding happily wrecked, and half asleep already.
“Alright. I’ll get a washcloth to clean us u—”
“Roman, shut the fuck up and lay down with me. My cooties don’t mind yours.”
I snorted but stretched out behind him. Nuzzling into the back of his neck earned me a soft, satisfied hum from Max as I let myself be wrapped in the heady scent of sex and man.
He didn’t say anything but as spectacular as the sex had been, I obviously hadn’t killed him because he silently dragged my arm over his waist, then scooted his body back the asshair it needed to make sure every sticky, hot inch of our skin was fused together.
My lips silently brushed a light kiss over the spot on Max’s shoulder that I’d been bitten earlier when he’d said Sam’s name. It was already bruising a brilliant, florid, reddish purple. It probably hurt like all hell, but Max made another contented noise when I rubbed my thumb over it lazily, seemingly unfazed.
It was good one of us was.
I wasn’t possessive towards anyone except the people in my inner circle, and that was a platonic, protective sense of possession. What was mine, I took care of. But Max wasn’t mine, and as soon as we left this room in the morning he’d be back to business as usual, banging everything that moved as he mourned Sam’s loss. I’d go back to my routine run, uncomplicated life.
For now, though, I was here, and so was he.
Max grumbled when I broke his hold just long enough to kick off the duvet that was soaked with so many of our body fluids by now, it would’ve been a CSI nightmare. I got my arms under him, then popped him under the covers like I’d threatened to do earlier. This time he didn’t protest, just pressed back against me when I got beneath the sheets with him and wrapped my arm over his hip again. Apparently, he was a fucking snuggler when he was more asleep than awake.
I pressed a kiss to the still damp skin at the nape of his neck, then exhaled in and out, slowly, with deliberately timed counts until I relaxed enough to let myself drift off.
Before sleep completely overtook me though, I could’ve sworn I heard Max say,
“Thanks for savin’ me from the randos, Roman...”
***
THE buzzing sound was what woke me.
I blinked blearily towards the standard alarm clock on the nightstand, but all I could see were the generic, oversized, backlit numbers. When I heard the buzzing again, I paid more attention to the direction the noise was coming from. It seemed distant, but when I carefully got out of bed so I didn’t disturb Max, who was still sound asleep on his back with one arm curled over his head, the buzzing got louder. For less than a minute I played a silent game of Marco Polo, until I was close enough to the door to realize that the sound was coming from the pile of clothing Max and I had left there in our haste to get undressed. When I retrieved my phone from my pocket, the screen on my phone was lit up with a missed call from Deseos.
Everyone on my staff knew that I’d taken the night off to attend Ben and Sam’s wedding, but they also knew that I expected them to contact me immediately if there was an emergency of any kind at either of the clubs. I rarely took time off and considering that it was well after one o’clock in the morning, according to the digital time in the upper right corner of the cell phone, something was wrong.
Damnit.
Quietly, I moved into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind me just enough for some privacy, but not all the way because I was afraid that the metallic click might startle Max awake. Something I didn’t want to do if I could avoid it. Max being asleep meant I’d shut him down as promised.
I didn’t bother trying to call Deseos’ direct line. If they were anywhere near as busy as we normally were before we closed down at 2:00 a.m. I might not get through. Instead, I called the head of my security team, knowing that he always had his cell on within easy reach.
The call only rang twice before Anthony’s thick Brooklyn accent came over the line. He was a transplant who’d made his way down to Florida with an ex-boyfriend who’d left him alone in their tiny apartment with two cats and a $10,000 credit card bill while he took off with his new man seven years ago. Anthony had paid off the bill eventually, but he’d never moved back home because he’d met Micky, my cheerfully campy twinkie manager at Allegria, who was liked by everyone. He clocked in at an entire foot shorter, and thirty pounds less than Anthony’s six foot, heavily muscled frame. Like Anthony, and a lot of my veteran staff originally from Allegria, he’d been spending most of his time at Deseos since the grand opening, to make sure that we were running smoothly for at least a year before I reworked the schedules.
“Boss.”
“What’s going on, Anthony? I got a missed call from Deseos, but there’s no voicemail, and I don’t see a text.”
He swore. “Fucking Micky. So that’s where he snuck off too.” He sounded exasperated though there was obvious affection underlying his boyfriend’s name. “I told him not to call you. It wasn’t a big deal. There’s no need for you to come down here.”
“Why did Micky call me?”
“Boss…”
“Why?”
He sighed. “You know how Micky gets when he’s pissed.”
I did. An angry Micky in action was the equivalent of a kitten being fed speed, then dumped into a bucket of water. All teeth and claws, game on.
“Tell me what happened, Athony. If have to wait to find out what’s going on from Micky when I get there, I’m going to be really fucking pissed. You know the rules.”
“I know, Boss but you’re at a damn wedding, and we handled it.”
“Anthony…”
“Look, I know I should’ve called you myself, but Colby asked me not to. The kid’s upset and embarrassed, which means…”
“That Micky’s on the warpath,” I said, filling in the blanks. “Why?”
As soon Anthony had mentioned Colby’s name I’d suspected why and was already opening one of the brand-new hotel toothbrush packages after locating the little tube of complimentary toothpaste.
“That shit-head ex of his came around again tonight. Started getting loud at the bar. He called Colby a slut and said he was dressing up like he wanted to be taken home. Told Colby that if he knew what was good for him, he’d get his ass home right then. Which is bullshit. You know how Colby dresses, Boss. He was wearing a fucking navy dress shirt tucked into his jeans with a damn belt. Kid gets tipped so well because of all that hair and those big eyes that make him look like a Precious Moments figurine. He’s not shaking his ass for tips.”
“Wouldn’t matter if he was. They’re not together anymore.”
“I know. I told him Micky can take him shopping for mesh t-shirts if he wants to, our treat. Derek’s a fucking prick. Colby deserves better.”
Silently, my brain agreed that Derek was a prick, though I had my doubts about Colby going for the mesh shopping trip. The kid did like tucking his shirts into his pants.
I spit my toothpaste out in the sink, needing the rest of the details. “What happened?”
“He was an ass as usual. Tried to grab Colby. Sloane stepped in even before I got there. Micky would’ve cut his balls off if he’d gotten there first, but Sloane intercepted Derek when he lunged at Colby, and kneed him in the balls before she punched him in the mouth. She’d kicked him in the ribs a few times while he was on the ground before Marco and I got to them. I’ve never seen her so pissed. If I was into chicks, I’d have chubbed up right there because she was fucking amazing. Like dayum. Maybe she should be bouncing not bartending, Boss. She’d shut any bullshit down right at the door.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose hard. This was why I never took time off.
To some people, having small security teams working each club was overkill, but it only took two drunk people to spiral a fight into mob status. With multiple levels at both clubs, I never wanted to risk someone not being able to get there in time to stop stupidity from escalating into tragedy. It was one of the reasons that unless I had a meeting, I was always walking the floors myself. Sloane had handled things tonight, but Micky wouldn’t have called if the rest of the misfits weren’t rattled.
“How many people saw it happen?”
“We’d done last call, so bad optics were minor, and we comped everyone’s drinks for the rest of the night. Took a hit there but no cops showed up, so I’ll consider it a win. Derek deserved worse than getting thrown out, but maybe getting his ass handed to him by a hot chick in public will make him less stupid next time. The restraining order Colby already has out against him obviously doesn’t mean shit as far as he’s concerned.”
“That’s because he has shit for fucking brains. You should’ve thrown him into the alley and sicced Micky on him.”
“Boss, you wanna release the Kraken when you’re here that’s cool, but I have to go home with him.”
I met my own eyes in the mirror. I looked tired and if I hadn’t gotten this call, I’d be wrapped around Max, sleeping more restfully than I had in a long time. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. As much as I hated walking out on Max like this, we all had priorities we couldn’t ignore. Colby was one of mine.
The youngest of my misfits, he was barely twenty-two, and the type to be described as shy and pretty: all blond curls with green eyes, and naturally femme features that he didn’t enhance with any artifice. Every bartender had their own flirting MO when they were working, but Colby’s style was just his naturally polite, cornfed Kansas smiles that made everyone feel like they’d known him forever. Those smiles, and his warm, gentle voice kept his tip jar almost overflowing most nights like Anthony had said, but as soon as it got anywhere near the top, Colby always ended up taking out a good third of it to discreetly distribute evenly among the jars for the other bartenders.
He was a good fucking kid, which was why I’d hired him even after he’d come into his interview dressed in a hoodie and jeans so threadbare there was no way they’d been a deliberate style. When I’d pointed out that I had a sexy, but smart dress code for all my staff, he’d blushed and stammered that he didn’t have much, but he’d work on it. I’d told him I’d set him up with a basic wardrobe until he did, and the blush had deepened before he’d dropped his head and quietly said that if he needed to work off that cost he could because he was used to it.
I’d shut that shit down real quick, telling him that wasn’t how things ran in my house, and that I’d just take a little out of his paycheck every pay cycle to cover the cost. The gratitude and relief in Colby’s eyes had made him look even younger than he was. He’d murmured a quiet thank you, then followed me like a tail so I could set him up in an apartment with one of the other bartenders who was a tenant in the small apartment building that Ben and I’d purchased together after our investments had come in.
We kept it neat and maintained, but not overly fancy so we could justify the low rent without making any of my people, or the kids who needed a place to stay when they aged out of Maplewood but didn’t have jobs that paid well enough for other decent parts of Miami, feel like they were getting a handout. No one liked those, but a hand up never hurt.
I took care of my people, and Colby was one of those people. It’d taken him forever to kick Derek to the curb. If that asshole wasn’t planning to stay there, I’d have to handle it myself eventually. But right now, I just wanted to make sure that Colby was alright.
His roommate was a good kid but on days like this when he was overly rattled, I usually ended up taking Colby back to my place and setting him up in my guestroom. I didn’t have siblings, so I’d unofficially adopted him months ago.
After telling Anthony my game plan, I hung up on him mid-protest. I finished brushing my teeth and washing my face before doing a quick clean up with a warm washcloth to erase as much evidence as I could of how my evening had turned out. I couldn’t completely erase the scent of Max from my skin even after I’d retrieved, and redressed in my clothing that still smelled like sandalwood oil. My hair was always kept in a short top and neat side fade, so I didn’t need to fuss with it. After I’d buttoned my dress shirt and shrugged on my suit jacket, I looked as put together as I had when I’d walked into the room earlier. I didn’t bother with my tie though, just tucked it into my pocket with my cell and car keys.
When I walked back out into the dark bedroom, Max was still asleep. I hesitated for a beat longer than I should’ve. Colby was one of my people. Max wasn’t. We’d fucked like champions, but he’d told me himself he probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow when we went back to our usually scheduled programming, so I didn’t owe him any explanation. The room was already paid for and I’d make sure to tell the concierge that if Max ordered room service for breakfast or anything, to just put it on my card. We’d enjoyed ourselves and he was safe in bed like I’d promised Ben. I’d accomplished what I’d come here to do…
And then you got your literals hands around his neck and he melted apart… What was it you said to him, Roman? It’s not wrong to give a fuck about other people? Stop fronting, man…
Exhaling slowly, I used the flashlight app on my cell to locate the little desk I’d seen earlier with a pen and some hotel stationary on it.
I’d spent a few years learning to forge my mother’s elegant script when I needed to get out of something for school, so my handwriting was still nice enough to make Anthony tease me about writing like a girl until either Micky or I popped him in the nearest vulnerable body part.
The message was short and simple, aided by the soft glow of my cell.
*The hotel bill is paid. Stay away from the mini bar but feel free to order whatever you like from room service. They’ve got my card number. Don’t be stupid with yourself. -Roman*
Succinct.
Rational.
To the point.
And fucking cold, Roman. He told you he won’t remember tonight. Doesn’t mean you need to believe him. He made you wrap around him like a goddamn plushie.
I frowned. My hands were tied because Max was asleep and the stationary sheet was barely big enough to fit that message. This also felt wrong.
After a long moment spent mentally weighing my options while being aware that I needed to get to Deseos and handle my house, I took the note over to the bed and laid it carefully on Max’s nightstand. I also set my tie down beside it in a careful roll after I removed it from my pocket, like he’d done with his own tie earlier before we’d defiled it.
Max might’ve made some poor choices but surgeons weren’t stupid. I had a feeling he’d get the point, especially after what we’d done with his tie. If he didn’t know how to, or didn’t want to read between the lines, that was on him…
I swept his sleeping form with one last look. He’d rolled onto his side, one arm curled under his head. A foot stuck out from the edge of the sheet, though the rest of him was covered by the blanket. His blonde hair was disheveled, and with the light of the moon coming in from the huge windows, I could see how much younger he looked when he was asleep and unguarded.
Max built walls like a motherfucker but considering I did the same thing I couldn’t blame him. I left the room before I was tempted to tuck that foot safely back beneath the covers and kiss him goodbye.
It took me longer to get through South Beach at this time of morning than it did to actually get into the club and fill out the framework of the night’s events with the points of view of everyone else on my staff who’d either been directly involved, or cleaned up the aftermath.
Micky had been the most animated and vocal until Anthony had reminded him that they needed to head home and check the automatic feeder for their cats unless he wanted them to piss on his favorite pair of shoes. Micky had reluctantly left but not before Sloane had told me how she’d handed Derek his ass. Her tone had been smooth and level. Not bragging. Just matter of fact, like she was about most things.
I’d thanked her then sent her home after texting her a photo of Tara in her now infamous maid-of-honor dress. Her eyes had widened for a moment before she’d tamped whatever she’d felt, back down into a carefully crafted mask of neutrality.
That seemed to be a fucking theme tonight. My only consolation was that she’d had to work for it like I had.
I knew she and Tara had some kind of mess going on between them, but I stayed out of the business of my friends so they’d take the hint when it came to me and my life. So far that hadn’t happened, but a man could dream.
After I’d driven Colby back to my place and reassured him for the hundredth time that everything was fine and he could stay here as long as he wanted to, he’d hugged me quickly, still shy even after all this time, then made his own way to the guestroom. He kept the change of clothes and toiletries here, and I washed the sheets weekly, so he’d be alright. He knew his way around my place after spending so many nights here while he’d been trying to break the abusive cycle with Derek.
It took me longer to get myself settled for the night because Max was still on my mind even though I needed to focus on a gameplan for making sure Colby was safe, and keeping Derek the fuck out of the clubs before I kicked his ass myself for being worse than a fucking cockroach.
Showering and changing into a wifebeater and loose sweats that weren’t warm because of how high I kept the AC temperature at, were tasks that didn’t require thought, even though I’d caught a whiff of the lingering scent of Max’s spunk and mine in the steamed-up shower before the water had washed it away.
He’d been hot.
The sex had been outstanding.
And it’d been a mistake.
He was in love with someone else, and I didn’t want the fucking hassle of trying to sway him while I was trying to make sure the people I cared for, never felt let down.
I’d have to deal with this shit eventually whether Max called tomorrow or didn’t, but for now, I did the bare minimum my mind could handle, and texted Ben. It was almost three in the morning here, but I knew he and Sam had planned to leave for their honeymoon right after the reception, so they were probably in the air right now. He could read the message later.
Roman: Max is settled into a room at the hotel. He’s out and it’s all good. Have a good time on your honeymoon and don’t worry about a thing except you and Sam.
I hit send, then put my phone on mute.
What was it Max had said? Tomorrow’s another day….
***
Epilogue:
(Ben)
I sat in a wicker chair in our hotel room, facing the beautiful, lush green mountains and white-tipped ocean views of Bali that were visible through the sheer, gauzy white curtains that framed the breathtaking landscape to perfection.
Inhaling deeply, I enjoyed the scent of salt and sand for a moment before taking a sip from the cup of fresh hibiscus tea in my right hand, the left resting on the arm on the chair. I could’ve ordered coffee from room service, but aside from the old adage of, ‘When in Rome,’ even in December, the temperature in Bali at the height of the day was almost 85° according to the thermometer mounted on the wall.
The tea was mild, floral, and slightly sweetened with raw honey: a scent and flavor combination I’d now forever associate with this moment in time. A time when Sam and I were starting a new chapter of our lives together.
It’d taken us so long to get here. So much strife. So much pain. So much miscommunication, Yet throughout it all, we’d always held on to that indescribable something that’d drawn us together in the first place. Even now, I knew that Sam wasn’t entirely sold on it being God’s wise, guiding hand that’d gotten us here despite all odds, but he’d stopped believing that everything was random a long time ago, and that was good enough for me.
We’d been able to build on that using our individual belief systems. Ideals that were so different from each other in some ways, yet had a common foundation of loyalty, faith, and fidelity. Even though Sam hadn’t always had faith in God, and my own had wavered for a while, His faith in both of us had been enough that we’d eventually let go of everything else, and just focused on our belief in one another.
I took another sip of my tea. I was used to the scent of the beach, having grown up in Florida, but there was something else on the warm breeze: Tropical blossoms, fruits and spices, soft lilting music. All of that set Bali apart from home. The sun also felt brighter and warmer, though maybe that was just my romanticized imagination using the sun as a way to visually define this new world that Sam and I’d agreed to navigate together, side by side, with matching rings.
My lips curled into a slight smile as I glanced over my shoulder towards the bed where Sam was still asleep. Under normal circumstances, the rays of the sun that were barely blocked by the sheer fabric of the curtains, would’ve woken him up hours ago, even before I’d gotten out of bed to help myself to the hibiscus tea that’d been left in our room’s small refrigerator as a welcome.
Sam had always been a light sleeper, but we’d made it to Bali later than expected after our connecting flights had experienced delays. After we’d gotten to the hotel room, we’d sheepishly grinned at each other through the process of unceremoniously sweeping the elegant swan that’d been made solely of red rose petals intricately laid out on the pristine white duvet, onto the floor. We’d undressed and willingly missed out on an opportunity for some literal ‘red rosing’ because fatigue won out, and jetlag induced sleep had taken us on a new journey with the sandman after we’d murmured our ‘I love yous, and fallen asleep tangled up in each other.
We’d appreciated the beautiful room more when we’d woken up to christen the plush mattress a few hours ago, officially kicking off the beginning of our honeymoon by kissing touching, giggling and making love until we were both sated enough to fall asleep again with Sam wrapped around my back like the sexiest octopus on the planet.
He’d having rolled onto his belly at some point after I gotten up. His right arm was tucked beneath his pillow. The left was carelessly splayed out across my pillow as if he was reaching for me, and his wedding ring caught the sun, creating a kaleidoscope of pattern on the wall.
I looked down at the ring on my own hand as I raised it up, turning my hand left and right slowly until the lit pattern overlapped with Sam’s, then slowly merged until you couldn’t tell where the reflections from his ring ended, and mine began. Just like our lives, they were intertwined.
One couldn’t exist without the other.
I smiled when Sam abruptly rolled over onto his back, somehow managing not to take my pillow with him when he carelessly flung his right arm over his head. His left was splayed across his bare chest, just beneath the blue titanium bars through both of his nipples. They weren’t as shiny as his wedding band, but they still caught my eye and I fully intended to explore them more closely later. Preferably with my mouth after breakfast when Sam was loose-limbed and relaxed, willing to let me do whatever I wanted to him.
Considering how often I’d thought about exactly what I’d be doing to him on our honeymoon, and him to me, I had an extensive list that we probably wouldn’t make a dent in during the ten days we’d be spending here.
My grin deepened as I wondered if slowly working Sam open with my mouth and fingers while he was still sleepy and pliant, until I could slide inside of him and fuck him gently into wakefulness, was the first thing we should cross off my kinky honeymoon bucket list. I doubted Sam would have any complaints about being woken up that way, but for now I let him sleep.
I’d put his cell phone inside the hotel room’s wall mounted safe after sending our people confirmation that we’d arrived safely, and that if anything were to happen at home that required our immediate attention, they should call me, not Sam. We’d be together the entire time we were here unless one of us was in the bathroom, and we’d bought an actual high-quality camera with us so we didn’t need two cell phones. I wanted Sam to be able to focus on nothing but us. That meant no distractions, even well-meaning ones. Making exceptions for emergencies was just the responsible thing to do, so I’d taken that on myself by adding a temporary international calling plan to my cell’s number.
That thought made me suddenly remember that I’d seen a message from Roman just before I’d put my phone on silent mode last night. I hadn’t actually read it because Sam and I’d been so exhausted, and just wanted to settle into bed. But since Sam was still asleep and I had some quiet time to enjoy the calm, beautiful morning, I set my tea down on the little wooden side table, and got up to get my cell phone from the nightstand.
After flipping through the messages from Tara and Sofia that’d wished us good luck, I opened Romans. My eyebrow arched immediately when I got to the end of the brief message. There wasn’t anything explicitly written in that message that should’ve made my Spidey senses tingle, but Roman Was my best friend and I knew he was attracted to Max. I also knew the mess that Max had been last night, and that Romans protective tendencies sometimes got the better of him, even though he hated to admit it. Granted, I’d been the one who asked him to keep an eye on Max in the first place, so this was partially my fault.
After shooting a brief glance at the bed where Sam was still out, I took my cell phone out to the actual balcony and sat in one of the chairs that faced the water. We’d opted for a beachside view, not a pool one, so I focused on the crystal-clear waters before I started typing. I knew there was a time difference between Bali and Miami, but between the odd hours Roman kept at the clubs, and the fact he never went far without his cellphone, he was bound to see the message sooner than later.
Ben: Hey! We arrived safely and the room is beautiful. The country is beautiful. This was a good suggestion, so I’ll send you pictures later. Thank you. 😊
When no quick response followed from Roman’s side, I texted him again.
Ben: Max is in a hotel room and it’s all good? I thought he already had a room with Tara? One he probably should’ve been asleep in way before your message came in after one o’clock in the morning your time?…
Roman’s response didn’t come in with movie-worthy immediacy, but it was still under five minutes according to my watch.
Roman: … Yeah, he had a room. He wouldn’t go into it because he was drunk and planned to roll the dice and hook up with a rando who, with any luck, wouldn’t have chopped his drunk ass into little pieces and tossed them into the ocean.
My brow arched. Text messages and emails never allowed for tonal change which was important for deciphering the actual meaning in a person’s words, but I knew Roman.
Ben: So… You got him another room?
Roman: Yeah.
Ben: And… he actually stayed in it?
Roman: Yeah.
Ben: How did you manage that? Max is a stubborn man when he sets his mind to it.
Roman: So am I. I gave him two options for staying put. He chose one.
My lips curved into a smile. Sulky guilt didn’t need tone to come across in a message.
Ben: I see. You said he’s all good. Are YOU all good too?
There was a solid minute delay, long enough for me to retrieve my tea from the room, then return to my seat on the balcony.
Roman: You asked me to keep him from being stupid… I kept him from hooking up with a random person when he was so drunk he went full Catholic confession on me… He fell asleep relaxed.
Ben: How relaxed are we talking here?
I suspected, but I wanted to hear the truth from Roman himself. I’d known him for so many years that him taking advantage of Max when he was inebriated didn’t compute in my mind. But if he’d felt that Max was alert enough to consent, him sleeping with the attractive, occasionally irritating blonde, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
Roman: Why aren’t you wrapped around Sam right now?
Ben: I will be just as soon as you tell me whether you’re wrapped around Max right now.
I was on the other side of the world, yet could practically hear Romans huffed sigh.
Roman: I slept with him. We were both on the same page. Fully consenting. But no, I’m not with him right now. I left shortly after sending you that message. There was an issue at the club with one of my people. I had to go handle it.
I blinked. Oh Roman, tell me you didn’t.
Ben: Did you tell Max that before you left?
There was a long telling silence. If we hadn’t been continents apart, I’d have slapped him on the back of the head. Max admittedly wasn’t my favorite person on the planet, but he was Sam’s family. Roman was mine, so we were all connected by default, and you just didn’t do family that way.
Roman: We agreed on no strings, and he told me he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow anyway.
Ben: Was that before, or after he broke down and opened up to you?”
Roman: Before… But he was sober enough to consent, Ben. You know I wouldn’t do him dirty by taking advantage of him.
I sighed.
Ben: Of course I know that, Roman. I can only imagine what he said or did to convince you to even consider sleeping with him under last night’s conditions. I’m just saying that you could’ve woken him up first. I know how your run your house and your people, Roman. They’re all strong and capable. They could’ve handled themselves until you said goodbye to Max properly. You RAN because you LIKE him.
Roman: I LEFT because I needed to handle my priorities, Ben. Max isn’t one of them.
Ben: Pft. Have you forgotten who I married? I didn’t. Sam’s hot, smart, kind and funny. He was also a GIANT pain in my butt because he was so bad at opening up and admitting what he wanted.
Roman: Max isn’t Sam. I’m not you.
Ben: Nope, he’s his own special brand of pain in the butt and so are you. Look, I know you’re attracted to Max. I also know that alone isn’t enough for you to have slept with him, considering all the other variables factored in like his drinking. So, while I’m not asking you to tell me what really convinced you to sleep with Max last night, I know perfectly well that you could’ve just thrown him into the room, then barred it with a chair from the outside while you sat guard.
He’d done something similar before for one of his misfits under different circumstances, though saving them from themselves had still been the goal.
There was silence from Roman’s end.
Ben: Look, I trust you. And unless Max tells Sam, he’s never going to know what happened between the two of you. It’s not my story, so I won’t be the one telling him. All I’m saying is that for some people, sex is just sex. But even for Max who’s been around the block more times than a peppy ice cream truck, there’s usually a method to his kinky madness.
Most of the time, that madness had been influenced by his unspoken feelings for Sam.
Ben: You’re not a monk, but you’re also not someone who would confine a person to their room with sex, consensual or otherwise. You have people, but you don’t have a person, Roman. It’s alright if you might’ve found someone you’d like to give that title to.
Even though God might need to send every guardian angel currently on sabbatical down to help these two if they decided to give a real relationship a shot. They were two sides of the same stubborn coin.
Roman: I have to get going. Selene and I are meeting with the contractor about the patio expansion later today, and I haven’t gotten to the gym yet. Focus on you and Sam, Ben. Happy endings are a myth. You and Sam are just the lucky anomaly.
I didn’t bother responding again because I suspected that Roman had already ended the conversation in his mind.
“I’m surrounded by stubborn people,” I murmured to myself with affectionate amusement.
“That’s the story of my life, especially with all the women in my life.”
I glanced up to see Sam standing behind me, wearing the lightweight, sapphire blue lounge pants that I’d bought for him as a wedding present. He hadn’t bothered with a t-shirt, so the nipple rings were a brilliant blue against his skin, nearly matching the pants. He still looked drowsy, but content when he smiled at me as he ran a hand through his hair, unintentionally making his bedhead endearingly worse.
“That’s certainly true, especially with Emma. Who, btw, snuck in a special stowaway into my bag.”
“A stowaway?”
I grinned, then got up. Sam took my vacated seat, then settled one of those big hands on my hip to hold me in place on his lap. He tasted like mint when he kissed me, obviously having brushed his teeth before coming out to find me.
My thumb brushed gently across his jaw. “Uh huh. A certain pastel axolotl.”
“A pastel what-now?”
I grinned. “It’s this cute little animal that looks like a tadpole with furry hair ears.” My grin deepened when Sam blinked. “There was a note attached instructing us to bring ‘Alex’ with us on our vacation, and to take pictures with him in, and I quote, ‘really cool places.’”
“Well, I guess Alex will have to make the rounds like the ‘everywhere gnome’ from the commercials. He’s not joining us in the hot tub though, or the couples massage on the beach that I booked a few weeks ago.”
I chuckled as I leaned into Sam’s shoulder, humming in content when he wrapped his arms around me.
“That’s fair. I was thinking maybe Alex can join us for meals. People taking photos of their food is always borderline ‘cringe’ according to the kids at Maplewood, so adding a Beanie Baby participant won’t make it much worse.”
“Works for me.” Sam smirked, then pressed a kiss against my temple, murmuring into my ear as my eyes closed. “Good morning by the way, Mr. Santiago.”
“Good morning yourself, Mr. Santiago.”
Sam’s breath warmed my skin when he chuckled, though I doubted he was more delighted than I was that he’d chosen to take my last name.
“I love you, Ben.”
“I love you too, Sam. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah I am. I was thinking that we could grab something downstairs at one of the breakfast buffets, then head out to the big public beach for a lazy first day.”
“As opposed to the smaller, private, nude part of the beach?”
“Let me just point out right here, right now, that you’re the only person in this room who knew that there’s a nude beach on this resort.”
I smothered his grin with kisses, then got up. “It could be fun.”
“Maybe on day ten, right before we leave.”
I chuckled, then picked up my cell. Sam’s attention immediately went to it, as if suddenly registering its appearance.
“Everything ok?”
“Yeah. Just checked the messages from last night and let our people know that we arrived and are going to have an amazing time. They’re all okay.”
“All of them?”
I heard the real question in Sam’s words, and leaned in to steal a gentle kiss before rubbing my nose against his. “All of them are okay. So are we. And we’ll be even better once we get food into us, then lay out in the sun like lazy lizards.” I smiled. “I saw on the room service menu that they make mango pancakes here.”
“You and sugar.”
He looked amused when I protested. “Hey, I drank hibiscus tea this morning!”
“Uh huh. Bet it was sweetened, right?”
His grin deepened as I felt a flush crawl up along my cheeks. Ahem. “When in Rome, Samuel…”
Sam’s laugh was a deep, joyful sound that licked across my skin as he wrapped his arms around me again, and pressed a kiss against my temple. “When in Rome, or anywhere else, I’ll follow your lead, Benjamin. So will Alex.”
We laughed together and I allowed Sam to pluck the cell out of my hand when we reentered our hotel room. He tossed it unceremoniously onto a random chair before he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to the bed. The plush mattress and bedsheets sank beneath our combined weight when he followed me down, his broad, strong frame covering me in comfort as he nipped at my ear.
“After we pay homage to the fallen rose swan with some honeymoon quality red rosing….”
FIN
The short epilogue is the "end" to Sam and Ben's story, but since Finding Home is a series, the characters will consistently overlap into one another's novels, continuing the story of the other's lives and relationships (like Sam and Ben becoming parents! and Tara finally getting her happily every after though that will happen in her story, Sweet Cherry Chapstick, book 2.5)
As always, thanks to everyone who follows me, reads, and leaves comments, critiques and feedback. It all makes me a stronger writer. Due to constraints, I have mentioned before, my work is not beta read so all typos and grammar mistakes I make, and miss are my own. I try my best, but sometimes the eyes just skip, especially with long chapters. I'm mentally exhausted after finishing Halos and JFH so I need a break. I forsee short sex-free fluff in the future for a bit.
Apologies for all and any mistakes!
Thanks all!
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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