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The heroic rescue of an elderly shopkeeper brings Nick Harding face to face with handsome detective Matt Langford. What begins as a simple statement to the police quickly escalates into an all-night ordeal when Nick is rushed to the hospital for a suspected concussion. Upon his release, Nick is surprised and grateful to discover that Detective Langford is waiting to take him back to his home. As time passes, the two meet again and again, until a date becomes inevitable. The date leads to drinks back at Nick's condo and the sexual heat that has been building between the two men erupts into a night of unstoppable passion.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2011 by Derek Adams
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Published by
MLR Press, LLC
3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.
Albion, NY 14411
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Cover Art by Winterheart Designs
Editing by Amanda Faris
ISBN# 978-1-60820-343-7
Issued 2011
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.
"I'm sorry, Detective, but I'm afraid I really can't give you a blow-by-blow description of what happened. I just reacted, that's all. Mr. Connors ran out of his store with blood streaming down his face, calling for help. I saw this guy come flying out the door behind him. He knocked Mr. Connors down and took off running. I just couldn't let the bastard get away with hurting a nice old guy like Mr. Connors, so I ran after him, and..." I stopped for a moment to catch my breath.
I'd been finishing up my nightly run, going all out, when I heard Mr. Connors shouting. The adrenaline had kicked in, I guess, because I had evidently cleared a six-foot fence at the edge of the park and dodged four lanes of traffic to get to the jerk running away from the scene. I'd managed to tackle him no more than twenty feet from the door of Mr. Connors' store. "To tell the truth, I don't remember tying the guy to the bike rack," I continued, "but if Mr. Connors says I did, then..." I shrugged my shoulders.
"Thanks, Mr. Harding." The man's voice was deep with a little gravel in it. Langford. That was his name. Detective Langford. Before he'd started taking my statement, he'd told me the man I'd caught was wanted for questioning in relation to a string of armed robberies in the neighborhood. The "armed" part made me a little weak in the knees. I hadn't even thought of that when I'd gone after the guy.
I watched Detective Langford as he scribbled away in his notebook. He was a big man. The fabric of his sports coat stretched taut across his shoulders. His hair was buzzed to within a quarter inch of his scalp. By contrast, the lashes that fringed his dark brown eyes were long and thick, sweeping almost to his cheeks when he blinked. The slightly flattened bridge of his nose and the pale scar that split his right eyebrow made him look like a tough guy. Hell, he probably was a tough guy. Whatever the case, he was a damned sexy guy.
"Sorry?" I was jolted out of my inventory of Detective Langford's assets by the sound of his voice.
"I was just saying that you should go to the hospital, Mr. Harding. Get yourself checked out."
"I've got a skinned knee, Detective. I don't think I need to bother the good folks in the emergency room for a Band-Aid and a dab of antibiotic cream."
"Mr. Connors told me the guy you took down put up a hell of a fight. He was afraid you might have been injured." Detective Langford flipped through the pages in his notebook. "How did he put it? 'That young fella's head hit the light post out in front of my store so hard it rang like a gong.'"
"Really?" I rubbed the back of my head gingerly. There was definitely a knot forming there. "Like a gong?" I smiled at the detective, but he didn't smile back. I glanced down at my fingers. No blood. "I'm fine, detective. Head like a rock." Another of my smiles went solo.
He eyed me critically for a moment. "You look cold, Mr. Harding."
"No argument there." My sweat-soaked jogging shorts were hardly adequate to fend off the evening chill. Mr. Connors had told the police that I'd used my tank top as a makeshift rope to restrain the robber, although honestly, I didn't remember doing that either. It seemed there were a number of things I didn't remember doing. I crossed my arms over my bare chest and shivered.
"I'd be happy to give you a ride back to your place if you want."
"I'd really appreciate that, Detective." I followed him towards an unmarked black sedan parked next to the curb. He opened the door for me and I got in. As he walked around the front to the driver's side, a gust of wind blew up the tails of his sports coat. His trousers were belted tightly around his narrow waist, the fabric hugging the swell of his solid, well-shaped ass. Another gust caught his tie and blew it up over his shoulder. He swatted at it distractedly, pausing to tuck the loose ends between two buttons on his shirt. He stood still for a moment, apparently deep in thought. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and a little frown briefly puckered the skin between his dark eyebrows. I was just thinking for the second time in as many minutes that Detective Langford was a very sexy guy, when he looked directly at me. The frown vanished and the evening light flashed briefly in his luminous, dark eyes. I looked away, suddenly flustered. I had the distinct feeling that the man could read my thoughts.
"It's supposed to get cold tonight," Detective Langford said as he slid behind the wheel and started the car. He reached over and flipped the heater on full blast.
"I had planned to be home long before the sun went down. Next time I'm out for a run, I'll either have to bring along some rope or wear an extra shirt."
Detective Langford shot me an amused glance and shook his head. He popped the car into reverse and backed up to the knot of officers conferring beside a squad car. When he stopped and leaned across me to roll down the window, the fabric of his jacket brushed my chest. His ear was only about two inches from my lips. It was pale, flushed with pink at the lobe. He smelled of lemons and clean sweat.
"Hey, Ridley!" The detective stuck his head out the window on my side of the car. His chest pressed against mine, his body heat warming more than my skin. A young officer in uniform spun around. "You got Mr. Harding's shirt?" The officer ducked into the squad car. A moment later my wadded tank top disappeared into Detective Langford's big hand. "I'm gonna drop Mr. Harding off, then head back to the precinct. Take that guy in and book him." Langford rolled up the window and withdrew to his side of the car.
During the drive back to my condo, Detective Langford discovered that I ran approximately ten miles a day, worked out three times a week, had played soccer in college and now made my living as an architect. If it hadn't been for his relaxed demeanor, we could've been in an interrogation room. I got the distinct impression that Detective Langford was good at his job.
He pulled to the curb in front of my building. "Thanks for the ride, Detective." I was oddly disappointed that it hadn't taken longer. Maybe it was just the fact that the car was warm now, and I had stopped shivering.
"No problem, Mr. Harding. You did good catching that guy. Just don't make a habit of it. You could get yourself hurt."
"Believe me, that has crossed my mind more than once since you told me he was armed. Truth be told, superhero isn't my normal default mode. I really don't know what came over me---other than being infuriated that some asshole thug was brutalizing Mr. Connors. Nobody should be treated like that." I opened the door and got out of the car.
"Oh, Detective Langford." He looked at me expectantly. "My shirt?" He retrieved it from the floor beneath his feet and handed it to me. My fingertips brushed against the back of his hand. The contact was brief, but extremely pleasant. "Thanks for everything."
"I'm just doing my job, Mr. Harding. Goodnight."
I had only taken about two steps forward when my knees buckled. I reached for the railing that separated the strip of grass in the front of my apartment building from the sidewalk, missed and sat down hard, the familiar buildings in my neighborhood spinning like a merry-go-round. I started to lean back, figuring that maybe I should just lie there until the ride stopped, but Detective Langford was out of his car, kneeling beside me before my head touched the pavement. I leaned against his shoulder instead. It was a nice shoulder---strong and warm. I didn't mind resting my head against it at all.
"We're going to the hospital," he said gruffly.
"I'm fine. I'm just a little dizzy." I started to stand, but Detective Langford scooped me up in his arms and deposited me back in the passenger seat of his car. "This really isn't necessary."
"Buckle up!" he snapped, closing the door firmly. By the time I had formulated a reasonable objection, Detective Langford was back in the car and we were pulling away from the curb. I buckled up and leaned back against the seat. Maybe my head wasn't so hard after all.
§ § §
Three hours later, after much prodding and poking by the emergency room team at Harborview Medical Center, I was pronounced concussion-free and had acquired a bottle of apple juice to raise my blood sugar level and a bright orange Band-Aid for my knee. I was wondering how I'd get home, since my wallet was safely stashed back at my apartment, but when I walked out into the waiting room, Detective Langford was there, pacing back and forth. A smile flickered across his face briefly when he saw me, soon replaced by what I was coming to think of as his "stern cop" look.
"You're the last person I expected to see." I was quite honestly shocked that he was still there.
"I brought you, I'll make sure you get home safely."
"Thanks." I was touched by his thoughtfulness. We made the drive back to my place in a surprisingly comfortable silence. I kept glancing over at him as he drove. Detective Langford had a great profile---high forehead, aquiline nose, strong chin. He'd insisted that I take his jacket as we walked out of the emergency room, and I could see that his white shirt hugged his torso in all the right places. All the tension on the fabric was concentrated in the chest and shoulders, none of it around his midsection. He'd shed his tie---it was draped over the back of the seat between us---and wisps of dark silk curled in the hollow of his throat. His shirtsleeves were rolled, exposing thick forearms, dense with more of the luxuriant dark growth. His thigh muscles swelled beneath the fabric of his trousers.
I pulled his jacket tighter around me, letting the lapel brush against my cheek. I breathed deeply, and the scent of the man filled my nostrils. A bolt of heat shot down to my groin, and I exhaled with a sigh. Detective Langford glanced over at me briefly, then turned his attention back to the road.
§ § §
"Really, Detective Langford, this isn't necessary. I'm not your grandmother." He had pulled up to the curb, parked, and insisted on escorting me to the door of my condo building.
"You're actually quite a bit taller than my grandmother," he quipped.
"At the risk of repeating myself, thanks for everything."
"My pleasure, Mr. Harding. I couldn't very well leave you sprawled on the sidewalk, now could I?"
"Yeah, well, maybe not, Detective. By the way, my name is Nick."
"I know. I took your statement at the scene. Remember?"
"I remember all right." I slipped out of his jacket and handed it back to him. "Thanks again, Detective L..."
"Matt," he interrupted. "My name is Matt."
"Thanks, Matt." I unlocked the door and stepped into the lobby, then stood there watching as the car pulled slowly away from the curb.
§ § §
I shut the door of my unit behind me and looked around. The place still felt empty almost a year after the relationship I had considered to be rock solid came crashing down around me like a house of cards, all brought down by a blond ten years my junior. Jim Clermont was my first lover---hell, my first sexual experience. I was nineteen when we met, a freshman in college. Jim was ten years older, already an established businessman running his own company. Jim traveled with his work, so we saw each other only once or twice a month while I was finishing my college degree. After I had gotten a job with a local architectural firm, we bought a condo and moved in together. He still traveled extensively, but when we were together, we got along well. The sex was so amazing that it never occurred to me that our relationship was anything less than monogamous. Not, that is, until I came home unexpectedly one afternoon and found him pinning a muscular young blond to the mattress of our bed.
"You're welcome to join us, Nick," he had said to me, like I'd come across them having lunch in a restaurant. I was speechless. I felt the tears welling in my eyes as I turned and ran out of the room, down the stairs and out into the street. When we talked later that night after I'd returned home, Jim was very matter-of-fact about his infidelities over the years. As it turned out, he'd never been faithful to me. I'd never asked, he told me, so he'd never said anything. Christ, what kind of a fool was I? It had never entered my mind that we were approaching our relationship from such radically different perspectives. Just goes to show you, I guess.
We continued to live together for several more months, but I couldn't get my head around this earth-shattering change in our circumstances. I realized that I didn't want a part-time lover, a man who probably had a guy on tap in every city he visited while he was out of town on business. I wanted a man I could count on, a man I could trust. Yeah---and I also wanted a private plane and a house in the Bahamas. Good luck with that! The whole experience had left me lonely, disappointed in my fellow man and terminally skeptical when it came to romance.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While waiting for the water to heat up, I leaned against the sink and studied my face in the mirror. It wasn't a bad face, although I had no illusions that it would ever land me on the cover of a magazine. My chin was strong, my cheekbones fairly well-defined. My eyes were green---or gray, depending on the light---and my reddish-brown hair was thick and full, although it insisted on flopping down on my forehead, utterly resistant to any styling gel known to man. My ears stuck out just a fraction more than classical proportion dictated, and there was a distinct bump on the bridge of my nose. My smile, however, was killer---thanks to an adolescence full of braces and rubber bands.
I stripped and stepped into the stall. The hot water pounding my shoulders felt great. I grabbed the bar of soap and began rubbing it over my body. All the running and the regular visits to the gym had paid off over the years. I was in damned good shape, if I did say so myself. My chest and arms were well-developed, my shoulders broad, my belly flat, and my legs were still almost as muscular as they'd been when I played varsity soccer in college. It wasn't a body to sneeze at---unless you were looking for blonds barely old enough to vote.
I cut off that unproductive line of thought and slipped both hands down to my groin. My balls filled one hand, my cock the other. I was definitely horny enough to beat off, which was a pleasant surprise. My libido had been in hiding since the breakup with Jim. I had become concerned that my impotence had a physical cause, although my doctor had assured me I was perfectly healthy. I had countered that a healthy man could get it up, and I couldn't.
"Stop brooding, Nick," he told me. "Get out and meet someone. I assure you that when the right guy comes along, your little buddy there will sit up and take notice." My physician, the comedian.
When I closed my eyes to fantasize a bit, I didn't automatically conjure up pictures of Jim, who, until recently, had dominated my erotic thoughts, which made me mad, which led to brooding---all of which was ultimately counterproductive, at best. Tonight, when I squeezed my dick, it throbbed almost instantly to life. I ran my hands over my flat, hard gut up to my chest. I pinched my stiff nipples, groaning softly as a shock of pleasure coursed through me. I increased the pressure and watched my cock swell until it angled jauntily towards my belly.
As I closed my eyes and started jerking off, I realized with a little jolt that the naked male in my mind's eye looked more than a little like Detective Matt Langford. The body was more imagined than real, given the fact that he'd seen a lot more of me than vice-versa. Still, it wasn't too tough to guess that he was fit, or that the upper body that had strained against the confines of his shirt was mostly muscle.
I imagined him hairy because of his heavy beard shadow---that and the dark growth on his forearms and on the backs of his big hands. What the hell. I liked hairy men, and it was my fantasy, after all. His ass would be pale, fuzzy, solid to the touch. The very thought of that ass pressing against my palms, my fingers slipping into the warm cleft between those tautly muscled globes, drove me to pump my fist harder and faster. I hunched my shoulders and ducked my head, hawking a wad of spit onto my fist. It bubbled into a froth between my fingers as I continued to pump my vein-laced cock. My balls drew up tight between my legs, sank down a bit, then pulled up again as I closed in on my orgasm.
I squeezed my eyes shut and Matt reappeared. Now he was facing me, his muscles flexed, his eyes locked on mine. Finger-thick veins pulsed along his forearms and curved over the mass of his biceps. His eyes bored into me while I pumped my prick frantically. His own hard cock thrust out from the dense, dark curls that clustered between his strong legs. The muscles in my groin contracted and a wave of ecstatic heat coursed through my veins. I pumped my fist, and the heat intensified. I gasped with pleasure as I pushed myself to the brink and beyond. Hot jism splashed against my chest and arm; I imagined it splattering his furry belly. When I finally leaned back against the tiled wall of the shower, fist still pumping, pearly drops of come glazing my knuckles, I imagined him smiling at me.
§ § §
"There's a Detective Langford to see you, Mr. Harding." My secretary's efficient voice crackled on the intercom.
"Uh, send him right in, Marcie." The door opened and he entered the room. My memory of last night's encounter hadn't led me astray. The man was a fox. "Good to see you again, Detective Langford." He took my outstretched hand and shook it. He wasn't in any undue hurry to let it go afterwards.
"My name is Matt. Remember?" I remembered all right. I nodded in acknowledgement. "Sorry to bother you, Nick. I have just a few more questions to ask about last night's incident, if you don't mind."
"Not at all. I was just getting ready to go to lunch, Matt." I liked the sound of his name. It suited him---straightforward, direct, honest. "If it's all the same to you, we could talk over a plate of food."
"I'd like that. I'd like that very much."
We ended up at a little Italian place around the corner from where I worked. The food was good, and there were booths at the back that offered privacy. We sat and ate, talking like we'd known each other for years. When the bill came I reached for it, and so did he. His big hand covered mine, and one of his fingers slipped up under my shirt cuff. The effect was electric---every nerve fiber tingled, my breath caught in my throat, blood pounded in my temples. Neither of us moved our hands for a long moment. Then the waitress came back and the spell was broken. He insisted on paying the bill, resolutely ignoring all my pleas to chip in. I was back at my desk before I tumbled to the fact that if Matt had any questions about the robbery and its aftermath, he had neglected to ask them.
§ § §
Over the course of the next few weeks, my path and Matt's crossed quite frequently. He showed up at my office with coffee and Danish for further "questioning" one morning. I altered the route of my daily run to pass by the precinct station where Matt worked. My timing usually coincided with his emergence from the building to "stretch his legs and clear the cobwebs." We even met in the aisles of Mr. Connors' store a few times. We'd joke about these chance meetings, but we both knew there was nothing accidental about them.
This almost daily contact with Matt always lifted my spirits. I began to look forward to our time together as a highlight of my day. When I spotted him out in front of the precinct or at Mr. Connors', my heart beat a little faster than normal while my stomach played host to a flock of unruly butterflies. I liked the look of him, the smell of him, the feel of him when our hands clasped in greeting. He was rapidly becoming essential to me.
§ § §
About the time I had convinced myself that we needed to talk about where we were going with all this, Matt beat me to the punch. I'd just returned home from work when there was a buzz on the condo intercom.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Nick. It's me...uh, Matt. Can I come up?"
"Sure." I buzzed him in and stood at the door to my condo, giddy with anticipation. When he appeared at the top of the stairs, my heart started beating faster.
"Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering..." His voice trailed off, leaving a rare, strained silence between us.
"Uh...what were you wondering?" I felt my face growing hot.
"Hell, I guess I was wondering why I'm feeling like a teenager screwing up his courage to ask for a date."
"Yes!" I practically shouted. "I do. I will. Go on a date, I mean. Assuming that's what you were going to ask me. For a date. With you, of course." Man, I was babbling.
"I'm glad to hear that," Matt chuckled. "I wasn't trying to set you up with one of my buddies."
"Please come in." I finally remembered my manners and stepped aside, motioning him into my home.
"I can't. I'm on my way to the precinct. I've got a mountain of paperwork, but I knew I wouldn't be able to focus till I'd talked to you." He cleared his throat. "So...I've talked. I'm focused. I'll see you later." He turned to go.
"Matt?" He spun back around, looking at me expectantly. "This date? Where and when?"
"Jeez! I'm an idiot!" He smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. "I was thinking dinner. Maybe a movie. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Definitely tomorrow." He grinned happily, leaned forward and brushed my cheek with his lips, then turned and strode down the hallway.
"Seven o'clock?" he called from the head of the stairs.
"I'll be ready." I watched as he disappeared down the stairs, then went back into my condo and did a happy dance through the living room and into the kitchen. I had a date with a sweet, sexy guy tomorrow night at seven. Yes!
§ § §
Dinner the next night was perfect. The setting was intimate, and the mellow jazz combo in the cocktail lounge provided a perfect backdrop to our candlelit meal of rib-eyes and cabernet. All the schoolboy awkwardness of the previous evening had disappeared as our wide-ranging conversation revealed similar interests in travel, sports, food and books.
When the conversation got around to the subject of relationships, Matt told me about a brief fling with a fellow officer shortly after he joined the force, followed by years of discreet, unsatisfying one-night stands. I, in turn, told him about Jim.
"I'd never do a thing like that, Nick," he said softly when I had finished. "I'm not wired that way."
"Neither am I." I downed the last of my wine. "That was a great meal. If the movie is half as good, we'll be lucky guys."
"Oh, man!" Matt looked at his watch, then over at me. "The last showing started half an hour ago. I can't believe we've been sitting here for over two hours."
"It must be the company. We could go back to my place. I've got a whole shelf of DVDs, and I've only watched about half of them. I should warn you that my taste is heavily weighted to forties film noir."
"Warning duly noted." Matt signaled the waiter for our check. On the ride back to my condo, I struggled to remain in control of my feelings. Over the last few weeks, I had grown increasingly fond of this guy, and, unless my radar was completely out of whack, he felt the same about me. I wanted to be intimate with him, but I didn't want to blow it by seeming overly anxious. Of course, I was overly anxious---read "terminally horny for him"---so I wasn't too confident about maintaining my cool.
As it turned out, I didn't. I fumbled with the key till he gently nudged me aside and did the honors himself. Once we got inside, I shut the door and leaned against it. Matt looked at me expectantly.
"Could I get you a drink?" I asked, pulling myself together enough to speak. He winked at me and nodded. I steered him into the living room and made my way to the liquor cabinet in the dining room. I poured two generous shots of very good cognac and walked over to where Matt was standing, at the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city and Puget Sound. I stopped behind him, reached around and handed him a glass. He took it in his right hand, then, as I was stepping away, gripped my wrist and pressed my hand against his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my palm.
I leaned against him, my head resting on his shoulder. Our reflection overlaid the glitter of lights along the shore and the shimmer of moonlight on the water.
"Killer view," Matt said, settling more comfortably against me.
"Sure is," I replied, more interested in my up-close view of his profile than in the state of the waterfront. I turned my head slightly, and my lips brushed against his neck. I slipped my fingers between his shirt buttons and touched bare flesh. His grip on my wrist tightened.
"Could I take that for you?"
"Huh?"
"The glass. I'd hate for you to spill what smells like very good liquor."
"Oh, sure." In all honesty, the fact that I held a glass in my free hand was no longer registering in my consciousness. Actually, not much was registering with me right now beyond Matt's body heat, his scent, and the silky texture of the chest hairs currently curling around my fingers. He set my glass beside his own.
He turned to face me, his hands on my hips. My left hand pressed against his chest, my right cupped the back of his head. Matt's face came closer, went out of focus. Our lips touched. The contact was tentative for just an instant, then increasingly intense as our long-suppressed passion spiraled out of bounds.
My lips parted and his tongue slipped into my mouth. His big hands slid up along my sides. My tongue parried thrusts with Matt's as our lips ground together, the intensity of my pleasure making it difficult to breathe.
I fumbled with the buttons on Matt's shirt, unfastening them one by one, until stopped by the barrier of his belt. I pulled the fabric aside, pushed it down off his wide shoulders and bared his torso to my hungry gaze.
"You are one sexy guy," I murmured, leaning back slightly so I could take in the view. He was hairy, just like in my fantasies, only my fantasy had done little to prepare me for the reality of his masculine perfection. Dark hairs feathered over his collarbones, swirled around his prominent nipples and clustered in the valley between his pecs. He was leaner than I had imagined, his bulk all muscle; chiseled, well-defined. His abs were etched like a series of armor plated ridges, softened only by the line of silky hair that split them down the middle.
"And you, my friend, are wearing entirely too many clothes." Matt remedied the situation by pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. "Very nice." His gaze swept up from my belt buckle to my eyes and back again.
"Not so nice as this." I ran my fingers up his belly, ruffling the hairs. I continued up to his chest, my thumbs grazing the nubs of his nipples.
"You like that?"
I nodded.
He pulled me closer, his body hair tickling my bare skin. We shifted side to side, torsos barely touching, raising the heat between us to dangerous levels.
"Okay?" Matt's hands were at my belt now, unbuckling it. I nodded, and my belt was undone, then my zipper, then the button at my waist. My pants slid down to my ankles, followed shortly by my boxers. Matt's hands slid south as well. "I hope I'm the cause of this." He wrapped his fingers around my cock and squeezed.
"Ditto," I retorted, quickly making him as naked as I was. Our hips ground together, trapping our stiff cocks between us. We embraced again, kissing and muttering endearments as our hands moved freely across the unfamiliar terrain of our bodies.
"I think we might be more comfortable if we moved to the bedroom." I started to take a step back from Matt's embrace. "Hey!" I would have fallen if he hadn't gripped my waist and steadied me.
"I think we might just have forgotten something." My gaze followed his down to the tangle of fabric around our ankles. "Allow me." He knelt and began to untie my shoes. I braced my hands against his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift beneath the skin as he unknotted the laces.
The stubble on Matt's cheek prickled against the shaft of my cock, soon replaced by his soft lips, then his tongue. "Oh, my God!" I exclaimed. "Man, that's not fair!"
"Don't care." He freed me from the tangle of shoes, trousers and boxers, then grabbed my ass and went down on me until the head of my dick plugged his throat. My efforts to escape were feeble, at best.
"Don't I get a turn?" I put my hands firmly on either side of his head and pulled him off of me.
"If you insist." He stood to attention---in more ways than one---hands behind his back, eyes straight ahead. I sank slowly to my knees, striving with hands and lips to touch every part of him. I managed to disentangle him from his shoes and trousers, then knelt before him, looking up. The man was all sculpted planes and angles: his hips narrow, his thighs strong, his calves thick with muscle. His cock jutted out of the tangled thatch of his pubes. It was thick and long, the head scarlet, the shaft pale ivory. Veins, prominent like those on his forearms, snaked along the sides. His balls drooped below the upward curve of the shaft. I touched my tongue to the rosy tip, and it rose higher, bouncing slightly in time with his pulse.
"Weren't we heading to the bedroom?" I braced my hands behind me and leaned back, staring up at him, my eyes glazed with desire. He straddled me like a colossus, his erection jutting out, glistening with my spittle. He reached out to me, his hand gripped mine and he pulled me up into his embrace.
All of a sudden we were kissing again, pawing at each other, not making a move to go anywhere. I no longer cared where we were---living room, bedroom, the middle of the kitchen---it didn't matter. All that mattered was being in each other's arms, so close it was hard to tell where my flesh ended and his began.
He wrapped his strong arms around me and held me so tight I could hardly breathe. His body was hot and hard, slippery now with a sheen of sweat. I gripped his muscular shoulders. One of his big hands pressed against the back of my neck. The other found its way around my waist, slipped slowly down and began kneading my ass.
Matt bent his head and bit at the swollen point of my nipple. His beard stubble prickled against my skin. When I gripped his arms, his triceps twitched against my palms. I squeezed hard; he flexed, and my fingers spread wide apart. I wedged my hands between our bodies and pawed him from belly button to Adam's apple. It was a delightfully furry journey over tautly muscled terrain.
I wriggled free of his grasp, took a step back and looked at him. "Don't move," I whispered in answer to his questioning glance. I dropped to my knees and breathed deep, soaking up his scent.
I ran a hand up the inside of his left thigh, and his feet shifted slightly apart. I kissed his balls, licked them, teased them until they drew up tight between his legs, then began licking my way along the shaft of his cock. I kissed the blunt tip, savoring the taste of him---the salt of his sweat and the pungent ooze of sex. He shivered and clamped his hands on my skull. I took him into my mouth, inching forward until my forehead pressed against his belly. He groaned, hands on my shoulders, gripping hard. I held him in until forced to breathe, then backed off, gasped in air and thrust forward again. His leg was between mine, my cock hard against his furry calf. I bucked my hips, and the pleasure of the contact almost overwhelmed me.
His thighs flexed against my palms. I kept swallowing him, my lips stretching wide as I wedged the last thick inch into my mouth. I shook my head from side to side, growling softly, like a dog content with a fresh bone. His hands were still on my head, holding me. I looked up along his torso and saw that he was looking down at me. I winked, and he grinned at me goofily.
He pulled his cock out of my throat. I gasped for air, then opened wide as he thrust back in, smacking his belly against my forehead. I tensed my jaws as he withdrew and bit down on the weeping knob, stopping him mid-stroke. When I released the pressure, he started humping my face frantically, his spit-slick balls bouncing off my chin.
He began to moan, his thigh muscles quivering. I sucked hard. He gasped air into his lungs, then cried out. I moved my head to the side and began licking him. The veins lacing his prick swelled. The shaft arced, and he started to shoot.
His come spurted against my neck, thick and hot. He whimpered and shook. More of the thick white fluid gushed across my shoulder and down my back. I hunkered directly in front of him, pumping his cock in my fist, milking the last of his load, smearing it across my chest.
He dropped to his knees, gasping, a dazed look on his face. I straddled him and began humping his belly. I was so primed that a few moments of rubbing my cock and balls against the hard, hairy surface sufficed to get me off. I blew a line of come from his navel to his neck, then shot one up along his left forearm. Matt wrapped his arms around me and held me until my breathing returned to normal.
"That was pretty amazing," he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. "The intensity, the sheer excitement..." His voice trailed off and he began nuzzling my neck.
"Speaking of excitement...you still seem to be fairly excited." I reached behind me and fingered his cock. It was still rock hard, curved up tight against the crack of my ass.
"I'm sensing a little residual enthusiasm on your part as well." His hand closed tight around what could only be termed my still-raging hard-on. I groaned softly and brushed my sticky lips against his.
"Since we're both obviously a couple of randy teenagers at heart, what do you say to having another go at it?" I nodded, and his strong arms enfolded me once again.
"Want to try for the bedroom this time?"
I shook my head. "I'm perfectly happy here." To tell the truth, I couldn't bear the thought of losing contact with him even long enough to walk down the hall. He sighed contentedly and nodded his agreement.
"Make love to me, Matt."
He nodded again, more vigorously this time. I ran my hand over our bodies, gathering our mingled sweat and semen in my palm. I rose up on my knees, gripped his hard cock, lubricated it, then positioned it against the tight ring of my sphincter muscle. I breathed in deeply and slowly settled down against him. I groaned when he breeched me and began to sink into my body. He gripped my hips, held me still for a moment, then slid in deeper. The slight pain of entry was almost instantly overwhelmed by the intensity of my passion.
We remained motionless for a long time, our bodies seeming to meld into one. His warmth was my warmth, his sweat my sweat, his steadily beating heart in sync with my own. It was difficult to tell where I ended and Matt began. The lines were blurred, the space between us so negligible as to seem nonexistent.
"I don't ever want to move," I sighed, my thought barely vocalized.
"Actually, I was thinking a little movement might be fun." Matt stirred slightly, and I was suddenly right there with him. I ground my ass against him and he bucked up under me. We both grunted with pleasure. Matt leaned forward, I leaned back. My shoulders touched the cool floor. He continued the motion, bracing his hands on either side of my head. I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist, and it began.
Matt thrust his cock into me, shooting sparks of pleasure along every nerve, taking my breath away. My hands were on him; on his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, the thick, hard muscles of his chest. The light in the room fell across his torso. His skin glistened, the hairs on belly and chest plastered flat. As he continued to thrust, sweat streamed off of him, running in rivulets down his sides, dripping off his forehead onto my tingling skin. I raised my head and licked the salty drops from his side, then from the tender skin on the inside of his arm, and finally from the thick point of his left tit. I laved the sensitive flesh with my tongue, then bit down. His lips curled back from his teeth and a deep, rumbling growl escaped him. I increased the pressure, and his thrusting grew faster, more frantic.
Matt braced himself on his elbows, then his body was pressing down against me, pinning me to the floor. His thrusts had lost all rhythm, becoming frantic as he continued to plow into me. I called out, my legs locked around him, my own cock trapped between our bellies.
"Oh, Nick! Oh my God, Nick!" A few more gut-wrenching thrusts, and he was still, the only movement that of his cock, flexing inside my body. I felt my own orgasm, starting from the point of contact between us, the heat coursing through my veins, the jism pumping out of me, hotter than skin on skin, muscle against muscle. I blindly sought Matt's mouth, made contact, our tongues and lips completing the circle of our bodies' union.
"Nick?" He raised up enough to look down at my face.
"Huh?" I came drifting back from some realm of stars and fireworks.
"I was just wondering about this bedroom you mentioned earlier in the evening." He was grinning now, his eyes sparkling with humor, sated for the time being. "You do have a bedroom. Right?"
"Oh, yeah, I have a bedroom." He rose to his feet, pulling me along with him. "I've also got a shower, which might not be such a bad idea." I traced my finger from his neck to his groin, then licked it. His cock nudged my thigh. "You're a dangerous man, Matt," I chuckled.
"This is entirely your fault, buddy." His arms were snaking around me again. "You've done this to me." His cock nudged my thigh again, more insistent this time. "Just one look at you, one touch..." He nuzzled my neck tenderly. "We get together just this one time, and already I'm addicted." The little frown line I found so sexy appeared between his eyebrows. "That's not a problem for you, is it?"
"That is definitely not a problem. Actually, Matt, as long as you're here with me, I can't foresee any problems at all." I moved towards him, and our cocks, hard once more, crossed like blunt swords.
"Except for the very real danger that we may never actually make it to your bedroom in this lifetime."
"There is that, of course." I kissed him again, then took his hand and led him out of the living room and down the hall.
The End
About the Author
Derek Adams is the award-winning author of a popular series of novels featuring the spectacularly inept detective, Miles Diamond. In addition, he has written over a hundred short stories which he insists are ongoing chapters in his autobiography. When not chronicling his amorous adventures, Adams writes about gay history and travel. He currently lives in Seattle.
MLR Press Authors
Featuring a roll call of some of the best writers of gay erotica and mysteries today!
Derek Adams M. Jules Aedin Maura Anderson
Victor J. Banis Jeanne Barrack Laura Baumbach
Alex Beecroft Sarah Black Ally Blue
J.P. Bowie Barry Brennessel Michael Breyette
P.A. Brown Brenda Bryce Jade Buchanan
James Buchanan Charlie Cochrane Karenna Colcroft
Jamie Craig Kirby Crow Dick D.
Ethan Day Diana DeRicci Jason Edding
Angela Fiddler Dakota Flint S.J. Frost
Kimberly Gardner Roland Graeme Storm Grant
Amber Green LB Gregg Drewey Wayne Gunn
Kaje Harper David Juhren Samantha Kane
Kiernan Kelly M. King Matthew Lang
J.L. Langley Josh Lanyon Clare London
William Maltese Gary Martine Z.A. Maxfield
Timothy McGivney Lloyd A. Meeker Patric Michael
AKM Miles Reiko Morgan Jet Mykles
William Neale Willa Okati L. Picaro
Neil S. Plakcy Jordan Castillo Price Luisa Prieto
Rick R. Reed A.M. Riley George Seaton
Jardonn Smith Caro Soles JoAnne Soper-Cook
Richard Stevenson Liz Strange Marshall Thornton
Lex Valentine Haley Walsh Missy Welsh
Stevie Woods Lance Zarimba
Check out titles, both available and forthcoming, at www.mlrpress.com
The Trevor Project operates the only nationwide, around-the-clock crisis and suicide prevention helpline for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning youth. Every day, The Trevor Project saves lives though its free and confidential helpline, its website and its educational services. If you or a friend are feeling lost or alone call The Trevor Helpline. If you or a friend are feeling lost, alone, confused or in crisis, please call The Trevor Helpline. You'll be able to speak confidentially with a trained counselor 24/7.
The Trevor Helpline: 866-488-7386
On the Web: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/
THE GAY MEN'S DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PROJECT
Founded in 1994, The Gay Men's Domestic Violence Project is a grassroots, nonprofit organization founded by a gay male survivor of domestic violence and developed through the strength, contributions and participation of the community. The Gay Men's Domestic Violence Project supports victims and survivors through education, advocacy and direct services. Understanding that the serious public health issue of domestic violence is not gender specific, we serve men in relationships with men, regardless of how they identify, and stand ready to assist them in navigating through abusive relationships.
GMDVP Helpline: 800.832.1901
On the Web: http://gmdvp.org/
THE GAY & LESBIAN ALLIANCE AGAINST DEFAMATION/GLAAD EN ESPAÑOL
The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (glaad) is dedicated to promoting and ensuring fair, accurate and inclusive representation of people and events in the media as a means of eliminating homophobia and discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation.
On the Web: http://www.glaad.org/
glaad en español: http://www.glaad.org/espanol/bienvenido.php
SERVICEMEMBERS LEGAL DEFENSE NETWORK
Servicemembers Legal Defense Network is a nonpartisan, nonprofit, legal services, watchdog and policy organization dedicated to ending discrimination against and harassment of military personnel affected by "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" (dadt).The sldn provides free, confidential legal services to all those impacted by dadt and related discrimination. Since 1993, its inhouse legal team has responded to more than 9,000 requests for assistance. In Congress, it leads the fight to repeal dadt and replace it with a law that ensures equal treatment for every servicemember, regardless of sexual orientation. In the courts, it works to challenge the constitutionality of dadt.
sldn Call: (202) 328-3244
PO Box 65301 or (202) 328-FAIR
Washington DC 20035-5301 e-mail: sldn@sldn.org
On the Web: http://sldn.org/
THE GLBT NATIONAL HELP CENTER
The glbt National Help Center is a nonprofit, tax-exempt organization that is dedicated to meeting the needs of the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community and those questioning their sexual orientation and gender identity. It is an outgrowth of the Gay & Lesbian National Hotline, which began in 1996 and now is a primary program of The glbt National Help Center. It offers several different programs including two national hotlines that help members of the glbt community talk about the important issues that they are facing in their lives. It helps end the isolation that many people feel, by providing a safe environment on the phone or via the internet to discuss issues that people can't talk about anywhere else. The glbt National Help Center also helps other organizations build the infrastructure they need to provide strong support to our community at the local level.
National Hotline: 1-888-THE-GLNH (1-888-843-4564)
National Youth Talkline 1-800-246-PRIDE (1-800-246-7743)
On the Web: http://www.glnh.org/
e-mail: info@glbtnationalhelpcenter.org
If you're a GLBT and questioning student heading off to university, should know that there are resources on campus for you. Here's just a sample:
US LOCAL GLBT COLLEGE CAMPUS ORGANIZATIONS
http://dv-8.com/resources/us/local/campus.html
GLBT Scholarship Resources http://tinyurl.com/6fx9v6
Syracuse University http://lgbt.syr.edu/
Texas A&M http://glbt.tamu.edu/
Tulane University http://www.oma.tulane.edu/LGBT/Default.htm
University of Alaska http://www.uaf.edu/agla/
University of California, Davis http://lgbtrc.ucdavis.edu/
University of California, San Francisco http://lgbt.ucsf.edu/
University of Colorado http://www.colorado.edu/glbtrc/
University of Florida http://www.dso.ufl.edu/multicultural/lgbt/
University of Hawaiÿi, Mnoa http://manoa.hawaii.edu/lgbt/
University of Utah http://www.sa.utah.edu/lgbt/
University of Virginia http://www.virginia.edu/deanofstudents/lgbt/
Vanderbilt University http://www.vanderbilt.edu/lgbtqi/

