Chapter 13

You ever miss living at home, Con?

Fuck no, a ghra. You know what it’s like living in a madhouse? I’m fine here with you.

Kinda be cool. You’re never alone, you know?

The shouting. Having to find a free bathroom. Worst part about it? I don’t think I could have sex in my parents’ house. Too odd.

Okay, here it is.

—Conversations in the Family Room

“YOU SURE?” Connor had to whisper, because if he spoke any louder, he’d shatter the crème brûlée sugar sweetness of their kiss. His cock was ready, heavy and ponderous between his legs. The department-issued uniform was made of thick, durable black fabric, but his dick seemed to have plans on breaking right through the weave.

If he’d had any question about being attracted to Forest Ackerman, it was certainly gone now.

Connor tried not to think of all the times he’d had a woman beneath him. Forest deserved better than that, but the comparison was still there—maybe it would always be there, but then, he thought, it didn’t really matter. Not so long as he found pleasure and gave it back tenfold.

And pleasuring Forest was the only thing on Connor’s mind at the moment.

The differences were startling. For some reason, he’d imagined Forest’s skin to be rougher or coarser to the touch. Instead, what he could feel under his shirt was soft, a silken landscape his hands glided across as he reached beneath the cotton fabric.

“Have you seen you?” Forest teased, and Connor groaned in mock anguish. “Shut up. And yeah, like since the first time you walked into the Amp. Maybe even before then.”

“Not here,” Connor muttered. “Not on a damned couch. I want to take you to bed. I want to stretch you out and take my time. If I’m going to do this, I want all of you. Not some fumbling around like we’re waiting for my parents to get home—”

“You were doing pretty good until the parents thing there,” Forest grumbled, but he let himself get pulled up off the sofa. “Good thing you’re sexy, or I’d walk right out. If I had someplace to walk out to.”

“Anyone tell you that you talk too much sometimes? Normally can’t get a damned peep out of you, and now—”

“Now I’m nervous,” Forest replied softly. “’Cause this is your first time with a guy, and what if I fuck it up?”

“What if I fuck it up?” Connor turned around, walking down the hall backward and pulling Forest behind him.

They both stumbled on the runner Con bought to keep the dust out of the one downstairs bedroom he’d refinished. He’d told himself he didn’t need to get the master suite done. There’d been no plan on getting someone in bed—not anyone he’d wanted to impress—and now he regretted spending all his damned time on restoring the dining room.

Who the fuck really needed the dining room? he thought. He should have spent those hours on turning one of the upstairs bedroom suites into someplace Forest could enjoy.

On second thought, the guy probably would have preferred if the small carriage house on the side lawn was soundproofed and had power so he could hook equipment up—and Connor stopped his mind from wandering into a very dangerous space.

For right now, Connor was intent on stripping Forest bare and finding out exactly what the man looked like under all his clothes.

They made it as far as the bedroom door before Con tore the shirt from Forest’s body. The other man gleamed ivory, with a faint brush of gold under his skin. His nipples were pink, a bright blush of color on his pale chest, but the surprise was the man’s sculpted, lean body and the seemingly endless curves of muscles and flat planes Connor’s mouth itched to taste.

“God, you are so beautiful,” Connor whispered as he gathered Forest up in his arms. “Shit, I just thought—we can’t—your head—”

“Swear to God, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to break. My head’s fine. You’re going to kill me here.” Forest slid a hand down Connor’s front and grabbed at his cock, squeezing lightly. “See this? I want this. My head is fine.”

Fisting his hands into Forest’s gold-streaked hair, Connor pulled the man’s head back, a gentle-rough tug to expose his throat. He bit, sinking his teeth into Forest’s long neck, pulling at the mouthful until the other man squirmed against him.

“Jesus—Con, thank God….” Forest groaned, a hoarse erotic clench in his voice. “Fucking hell—”

“Get on the bed,” Connor ordered, letting go of Forest’s hair, then lightly pushing Forest to the enormous bed dominating the small room. “Because damn, if you’re sure, then I can tell you I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a damned long time.”

There wasn’t much space to move about, and at the time he’d chosen the bedroom to sleep in, Con’d not given much thought to it. The downstairs bedroom was supposed to be temporary, but he could have used more floor to kneel on. There were things he wanted to do—hold onto Forest’s hips and suck him down, tasting the man’s cock for the first time.

Hell, just tasting any cock for the first time—but mostly because it was Forest’s.

Con stood, staring down at the wide-eyed, sprawled-out blond—half-naked, fully aroused.

Forest wasn’t much of a make-the-bed-after-waking-up kind of guy. The bed’s faded blue-striped sheets were more for comfort than for looks, and they provided a crumpled frame for his sculpted torso. A thick quilt was somewhere, probably on the floor. From what Connor discovered during his nights of checking on Forest’s slumber, the man roamed as he slept, leaving Con to wonder how he’d managed to get any rest on his futon.

Not like Forest was going to get any rest that night either.

Connor debated seduction, or rather how to seduce the obviously aroused man. Forest’s cock jutted up against his sweats, tenting the cotton in a straining line. The man’s stomach jumped in and out, partially from nerves but mostly from his staggered breathing. A downy line of light brown hair trailed down from Forest’s belly button, a shallow dip tucked between the ridges of his hard, muscled stomach.

He would start there, Connor decided. Or maybe Forest’s throat, where a dark purple bruise was already blooming down the cords of his neck. No, he focused on the man’s pink-flushed mouth—that was where he’d begin his exploration and then work his way around until Forest begged him for release.

Connor liked the sound of that. He also enjoyed the growling mew Forest gave when Con hooked his thumbs into Forest’s waistband and tugged his sweats and underwear off in a single fluid pull.

“I don’t want to have to stop and do that later,” Connor rumbled. Then he eased onto the bed and covered Forest’s lanky body with his own heavy frame.

The room grew hot. Even stripped bare with nothing on the walls but flecks of old wallpaper glue and exposed woodwork, the house’s thick plaster walls normally kept the place relatively cool, holding in the city’s chill and keeping out the worst of its heated tantrums.

Connor shifted, moving to find the places he fit into Forest’s body while exploring the man’s unfamiliar planes with his hands. Their mouths were close, and Connor resisted savaging Forest’s lips. Their eyes held, and when Connor’s fingers dusted down Forest’s ribs, he gasped, puffing a breath over Con’s parted lips, and Connor knew he was lost.

He took what was his, sliding his knees between Forest’s legs to support his weight, and captured the man’s mouth, forcing Forest’s lips open so he could plunge his tongue past Forest’s sharp teeth and into the hot depths beyond. Connor suckled and pulled, drawing gasp after gasp out of the man underneath him. Unused to the sleek feel of another man’s skin, Con reveled in the newly discovered delight, his fingers roaming over his lover’s body, finding defined muscles. Then the nip of a nipple on Connor’s palm drew him in, and he played with the nub, rolling it between his thumb and finger until Forest gasped and thrust his hips up into a grinding dance along Connor’s belly.

Everything tasted different, tasted right, and felt even more glorious than Connor imagined. He didn’t know if it was the culmination of his surrender to desires he’d long held back or the sheer erotic pleasure of exploring Forest’s pale flesh. Either way, Connor knew in that moment he’d never let the man go. He’d never get enough of him—never feel or swallow enough of Forest to be satiated.

And he’d not even begun to sample the delectable flavors awaiting him beyond Forest’s mouth.

Connor moved onward—traveling down the man’s throat, then coaxing first one nipple, then the other into a hard peak he could have cut glass on if he so desired. Even there, the masculine hint of sweat and earthy skin was an explosion of sensations in Con’s mouth.

He dared his hands to go lower—to find the hard press of the man’s shaft and palm over Forest’s cock head and smear the leak he knew would be pearling at his lover’s slit. Connor wasn’t disappointed. Forest’s cock was wet and hard. Steel-firm and velvet soft at the tip, it bobbed before Con grasped it, sliding about on Connor’s palm until it too gave in—as Forest writhed and clutched at Con’s shoulders.

“Con—” Forest’s voice was tight, urgent, and begging. “I can’t—fuck, it’s been too long. I’m going to lose it on you.”

“Hold on, baby,” Con urged. “I want to taste you. My first—hell, my only. I want to take you in. Feel you there, okay? Can you hold on just for that? So I can feel you there? Pressed against the roof of my mouth?”

“Maybe,” came Forest’s husky whisper. “Yeah.”

His balls rolled in Connor’s palm, a curious, unique male thing only another man could understand. Connor knew the feelings Forest was having. Connor’s pants squeaked on the sheets, making him aware he’d wasted precious moments wearing clothes when he could have been lying naked on Forest’s hot body.

Con stripped quickly, tearing off his shirt and unzipping his pants before tossing both aside to land in a pile on the bedroom floor. The air cooled his skin, a brief, wistful chilly kiss over his skin, prickling his flesh with goose bumps, but his dick throbbed with its own coursing heat.

“Jesus, you’re fucking huge,” Forest muttered. “Lube. Better have a shit ton of lube.”

“There’s some in the nightstand.” Connor fumbled at the squat piece of furniture, digging out a couple of condoms and lubricant. “I’m not exactly sure how much a shit ton is, but there’s probably more than enough here.”

His dick left a salty trail on Forest’s arm and leg, his shaft tightening with excitement when the man grazed his fingertips over Connor’s uncircumcised head. He twitched, hissing at the touch to his sensitive tip, and Forest grinned up at him.

“Not what I expected,” Forest said, sliding his thumb around the base of Connor’s head. “You’re not cut.”

“No. Born in Ireland. They tend to leave the boys as they find them.” Connor hissed again, drawing back. “And stop that, a ghra. You’re not the only one close to the edge.”

Con tossed the lubricant on the bed. It rolled, then rested near Forest’s hip, trapped in the folds of Con’s rumpled sheets. He shot a grin at Forest, then lowered his head, licking down the man’s stomach and tickling the down under Forest’s navel with the tip of his tongue. Shifting his knees, Connor guided Forest’s legs apart and skimmed his hands down the man’s lean thighs, marveling at the feel of wiry hair on his palms.

He was blown away by the exquisite sensations of Forest’s body on his hands and in his mouth. The scents of the man were so very unique, even as Con recognized the aroma of his own soaps on his lover’s skin. The familiar lemon chiffon scrub, an indulgence Connor allowed himself, perfumed Forest’s stomach and groin. While the sweet citrus hint was pleasant, it was the powdery musk undernote that drew Connor’s cock to a raging stiffness.

Everywhere he touched felt different—unique to the man he longed to delve into. Connor studied the other man’s cock, taking in its pink tip, shorn of its foreskin. The texture of it was so foreign to him, more like velvet than the sleek felt of his own cock, and Connor played with its tip, reveling in the gasping mewls he could draw from Forest’s panting mouth when he flicked his thumb over Forest’s slit.

“Con…,” Forest begged, husky and dark with promise. “Please.”

“Yeah, baby,” Connor replied. “Anything you want. Just—let me do this. Once.”

He then leaned in and took Forest’s cock into his mouth, pressing his tongue under its bulb, and sucked, drawing Forest’s hips off the bed as pleasure flooded through the blond’s body.

The hint of salt, lemon, and man flowed over Connor’s tongue in a rush, and Forest’s body bucked under Con’s hands. He spread his fingers out, digging into the man’s hip bones to hold him. He was going to take however long he had and explore Forest in depth, but the blond wasn’t having it. Forest’s hands scrambled at his shoulders, searching for purchase with frantic fingers.

It was a magical taste—that first savoring of a man—of Forest—in Connor’s mouth. It filled him, completed him, and Connor wondered how the hell he’d gone on for so long without that burst of Forest in his memory.

The lubricant nudged at Con’s fingers, rolling about with Forest’s gyrations. Connor let go of Forest’s side and popped open the bottle. He liked to slick up his own cock while getting himself off, and the condoms were probably only a year old, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. Sending a brief apology to his faceless and forgotten lover, Connor lubed his fingertips and slid his hand down between Forest’s legs, searching for the hot muscled swirl he needed to prime.

Connor knew he’d hit the right spot when Forest gasped and his knees parted. Cock leaking hot precome down Connor’s throat, his ass clenched and gave, guiding Connor’s oiled fingers in. His body tightened, molten and sweet over Con’s fingertips. He worked two in, coating the rim as thickly as he could. Forest was tight—so tight Con wondered if he would fit, but when he drew his hand back, Forest’s hands tightened painfully on Con’s shoulders.

“Swear to fucking God, I’m going to kill you if I don’t get you in me,” Forest muttered darkly.

“Almost done,” Connor replied, kissing Forest’s cheek. “And I’ll be right there.”

Strangely enough, his hands shook as Connor tore open the foil packet, and trembled even more when he worked the sheath down over his own cock. The tight ring at its base caught on his shaft, and he struggled for a second, then unfurled it the rest of the way. With his dick covered in more lube, Con gripped his base and guided the tip of his cock down between Forest’s trim asscheeks. The blond lifted his legs, hooking them up onto Connor’s hips, and Con grabbed a pillow to shove it beneath the small of Forest’s back.

Connor savored the moment, taking in the sight of Forest’s wanton splay. Forest’s mouth was roughened to plum from Connor’s kisses, and small bruises marked his throat and chest where Con’s teeth had nipped. Forest was ivory and golden, hot with lust and run wild with need. His eyes were nearly black with desire, their mocha depths swallowed in a stygian pool. With his hips canted up and legs spread, Forest was open to him, surrendering every inch of his body to Connor’s cock—to Connor’s desire—and Connor could not wait to enjoy what the man was offering.

“All of it,” Forest whispered. “No teasing me. Just… all of you, Con.”

Leaning forward, balancing his weight on one hand and his knees, Connor gently kissed Forest’s lips, inhaling the puffs of strained breath and little kitten cries coming from Forest’s mouth. Whispering softly, Connor said, “Thank you for this, a ghra. Thank you for giving me this—for giving me you. You are a treasure to me, and one I will cherish my entire life.”

With that, Connor pushed, and his mouth clamped down, swallowing Forest’s scream as he slid the length of his heavy cock into the tight of Forest’s body.

THE MAN was enormous. From his broad shoulders to his trim hips, Connor Morgan was a rippling mass of muscle and sinew, and Forest tried to touch every single inch of him that he could reach. There was so much to reach for.

So much so Forest wondered if he could even take the man in.

When he’d first felt the prickling of want, Forest had been horrified to discover he liked men. Unable to comprehend why his mind drifted into sexually charged thoughts at the idea of a man’s hands on him—a man’s cock inside of him—he’d driven himself down into his drumming, needing to pound out his fears and aggressions. Men were—they hurt. Even as his mother dragged him through her partying—even as she handed him over to rough-mouthed, drunken men who seemed to crawl out of the woodwork whenever she needed money—he’d done it because his mother needed him to—wanted him to.

There’d been too many times when he’d woken up sore, his voice hoarse from taking a man’s cock down his throat and his lips cracked from being stretched too wide—stretched too hard—and all the while, as Franklin waited for Forest to come to his senses and not trail after his mother like an oblivious duckling—Forest’d wished Frank would have just told him to stop.

Because his mother was the only person who’d ever told him he was needed, wanted, and the brutal fucking he got every time her friends passed him around was merely the price to pay to hear her say You did good, Forest. Real good.

By the time he’d thrown off her influence, Forest told himself he wanted something normal; a sweet-faced girl who’d giggle when he told a bad joke or even sit to listen in on a session. Quite a few of the musicians he played for had those kinds of girlfriends, smiling bits of sugar and candy who’d clap when they were finished playing and give fierce hugs of appreciation when the set was done.

Then he’d found himself looking more at the musicians than their girlfriends and wondered how truly fucked up he was, longing for something that’d only brought him pain.

Frank—God love Frank—for noticing and talking to him. They’d worked it out, small tidbits of conversations and reassurances of Forest’s sexuality, until Forest understood—realized—the men he’d gone with before weren’t partners, weren’t lovers; they were men interested in satiating their need for power or maybe even trying to exorcise their own demons. None of the pain, none of the trauma, had to do with love or want. If Forest wanted a man in his bed, it wasn’t because of something his mother or any of the countless, faceless nobodies who’d used him before had done. It was because that’s what his heart wanted.

And God, did his heart want Connor Morgan.

Especially now, because even as the man tenderly stroked and played with Forest’s body, he ached to have Connor in him.

He wanted Connor to erase every touch that’d come before him. He needed to believe the man when he whispered how much he wanted Forest. Most of all, he wanted to be held, to know Connor wasn’t going to let him go, wasn’t going to toss him out like he’d been tossed away so many damned times before. Forest needed that most of all, and in the murmuring Irish he heard those things.

His heart beat rapidly—urging his mind to fall into the man’s promises, but the slithering doubts—the evil, dark shadows lurking in the recesses of his mind, whispered of Connor’s disinterest once he’d gotten his fill of Forest’s body.

No, he told himself. He’d seen the look on Con’s face—that precious moment when he’d spied Forest through the glass and turned Forest’s world on its side. There’d been something tangibly magical in that glance—that smile—and it’d burned away every cobweb and flick of ice on Forest’s soul, baring him to the sun and stars. He’d die happy knowing he’d gotten that look just once.

He’d do anything Connor wanted of him just to have the man look at him like that for the rest of his life.

“God, I love you,” Forest muttered softly, too low for Connor to hear, and hot tears stung Forest’s eyes. “When the fuck did that happen?”

His mind burned and roiled with the knowledge, tearing at his thoughts and flinging back sharp darts of denial. They didn’t get very far. His heart caught every whisper of doubt and crushed them into a silvery ashen nothing, leaving only a smear of awareness behind.

Enraptured by the large man on his knees in front of him, Forest lifted his legs up, hooking his ankles at the small of Connor’s back. Slick fingers played with him, coating his hole with lubricant. It smelled familiar, then turned erotic when a simmering warmth kicked in, making Forest gasp in surprise. The sounds of a condom wrapper tearing sent tingles of fear and need through him—would he be able to take all of Connor’s girth—would he be able to be what Connor needed—and would Connor find pleasure in his already ill-used body?

He said something. For all he knew, he was complimenting Connor on the ink covering one of his upper arms. Forest couldn’t even remember the words as soon as they left his mouth, but whatever he’d mumbled made Connor smile. God, he lived for that man’s crooked, chipped-tooth smile. A thrust of Connor’s hips, and suddenly Forest’s skin was singing, tightening over his flesh and bones as Connor filled him, a rush of hot silken steel driving deep into the depths of Forest’s body.

And if there were a God, Forest thought, he’d die right then and there because he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than Connor Morgan splitting him open and whispering hot whiskey Irish into his ear.

Then Connor began to move, and Forest simply gave up thinking.

Forest rode the waves of Connor’s thrusts. He could only hold on, tightly gripping the man’s powerful arms as they supported Con’s weight. His lover—because Connor was his lover—worked his hips in and out, angling up in a rolling snap slow enough to drive every single inch of Connor’s cock along the ridge of Forest’s hole and push the man’s shaft in deep. Forest’s hips rose with every thrust, his ass driven up on every motion.

Sweat glistened on their bodies, and Forest caught a drop of Connor’s when it fell from his throat. The salt of the man would echo the rush of come from Connor’s release, and as pale of a comparison as it would be, Forest was glad for the taste. He’d have the man’s taste in his mouth as he filled Forest’s depths, but that too became nothing but a rush of burned thought as Con found Forest’s sweet spot and the universe went black around them.

They slapped together, skin hitting wetly and teasingly. Forest ached for more, and Connor gave him his all, resting on his knees so he could slide his hands under Forest’s hips to get a better grip on the meat of Forest’s ass. Connor’s fingers dug in, a punishing grip, but Forest gloried in the man’s grasp. Connor wasn’t going to let him fall over the edge of his release alone. With every massive stroke, Con drove Forest further along until the tingle of his climax began to boil in his balls.

“Touch yerself, a ghra,” Connor growled, his accent thickening to emerald and gravel. “I want to see ye pull at yer dick and come for me. Can ye do that?”

Forest couldn’t find his hands; then his dick seemed to be as reluctant to be located. His nerves were shot, his mind blown beyond where it was supposed to be. Fumbling, Forest covered his cock with his hand, his fingers numb from the cascading pleasure rising up from his ass and balls. He couldn’t think straight enough to pull on himself, not in any sense of rhythm.

For once in his life, he couldn’t find the pattern of his own body. His heart’d fallen into time with Connor’s pulse, and the beat of it drove their sex, a shattering plunge on every downstroke.

It was too much for him when Connor’s hand rose up to cover his fingers and the man began to work Forest’s cock, sliding up and down in a single shuck before rubbing the rough of his palm over Forest’s head. Something caught on his slit—either the edge of a fingernail or a callus—either way, the rough scrape was the limit of Forest’s body, because the storm building up in his balls broke, and he screamed his release, arching his body up and clenching down hard on Connor’s wickedly hard cock.

Something hot came up into his ass, but it was held back, simmered by the sheath around it. In some part of his mind, Forest knew it was Connor’s spill, and he sighed, riding the tiny shivers of his climax while Connor continued to stroke at him, both inside and out.

Connor’s dick was still buried in him, Forest realized. Even softening from release, the man was firm enough to remain inside, and every shift of Connor’s weight reminded Forest of the ride they’d just taken together. The faint light coming from the bedroom’s overhead lamp dimmed when Connor bent over Forest, his dark hair catching up most of the bulb’s glow. Forest could still make out Con’s features and certainly the man’s sinfully delicious mouth before he tenderly kissed Forest’s lips.

“I love you too, a ghra,” Connor whispered against Forest’s kiss-swollen mouth. “And yeah, I’m never letting you go.”