Chapter 8 #2
He crowded after me as we headed down the hall, his tall, muscular body a heated presence. Danger. Close behind you. My pulse kicked up, even as I told myself it was just Callum. I stopped and murmured over my shoulder, “I hate to ask, but please don’t come up behind me. It makes me twitchy.”
Callum raised his hands and stepped back. “Sorry. Not ever?”
“Not now.” I hoped those survival reflexes would settle down after a while.
I was already much better than when I first came off that undercover case, when every shadow and sudden movement made my gut clench.
Now that kind of reaction was rare, but his size in the dark narrow hallway had me jumpy.
Thinking fast, I held out a hand to Callum.
Grasping his long fingers in mine was so unlike anything I’d done on duty, it soothed me. “Come on.”
I tugged him forwards into the small bathroom, snapped on the light, and locked the door behind us. On a second thought, I cranked on the fan timer too for background noise.
Callum peered at the dial. “An hour? Are you an optimist or just slow?”
“Shut up and come here.” I did what I’d wanted to before— shoved my fingers into his thick red hair and pulled him down for a kiss.
His mouth was even better than the last time, hot and eager and faintly flavored with coffee.
He hauled me against him, his fingers digging into my shoulders, and I felt his dick growing hard against my stomach.
That bulge was promising. He kissed me like I was the last donut in a box and he was starving, all tongue and lips and teeth.
I tightened my grip on his hair and grabbed his ass with my other hand. Hockey ass, thick and meaty, hallelujah. He grunted and thrust against me, driving me into the vanity, catching my gasp in his open mouth.
He broke the kiss to ask, “Okay?”
“Countertop’s pressing into my back.” I pivoted to put my shoulders against the wall. “Try that over here.”
His deep chuckle was filthy, and then he bent and took my mouth again, crowding me against the wall with his size and strength.
A big toppy guy was my catnip, and I writhed under him.
My dick pressed along his thick thigh, and I took advantage, humping his leg as he plundered me with his kiss.
My body hummed, electric pleasure rising everywhere.
Digging my fingers into his ass, I arched under him, relishing the weight of his chest against mine and the way he had me pinned.
When we paused to breathe, I asked, “What do you want? Because five more minutes of that and I’m coming in my jeans.”
In response, he eased back enough to get at my button and zip, and opened my fly, shoving my jeans down over my hips. As I fumbled to do the same to him, he shoved his hand down inside my boxer-briefs and wrapped hot fingers around my shaft.
I arched and grunted as he jacked me, then got control of my hands back, and wrenched his jeans open.
His cock escaped from his briefs, long, cut, and pretty, the head deep red above the thick, veiny shaft.
My ass clenched at the thought of him bending me over the counter and stuffing me full.
But it was late, the kid was upstairs, and I got noisy when I was being fucked.
Plus I was moments from going off like a rocket, just from the feel of his hands on me.
I pushed his briefs low. Trying to match his rhythm with my fingers, I craned my neck and found his mouth again, inviting him into another kiss.
With one hand pumping my dick and the other behind my head holding me still, he plunged his tongue in and out of my mouth.
I bet he’s a wonderfully vigorous fuck. I was impressed with his multitasking as I focused on staying on my feet, keeping up some kind of rhythm on his cock, and letting him do whatever he wanted to me.
What he wanted to do sent heat flashing across my skin and boiling up inside me.
All I could feel were my dick and balls and my clenching asshole and the drive of his tongue.
The rest of my body floated in some dark space, unneeded, as my climax rose thick and hot.
Callum was grunting now in time with his hand, and I gasped against his mouth.
Then orgasm hit me, a tidal wave of pleasure tipping me over into shuddering, clenching, spurting fireworks.
I arched out of that kiss, thumping my head against the wall.
My jizz spilled from Callum’s fingers and slicked his hand in wet, sloppy pulls as he forced jet after jet from me.
I shook, groaned, and then slumped against him.
“Jesus. Wow. Enough.”
He gave a filthy chuckle against my ear and then let go. “Been saving it up? I’m gonna have to wash these jeans.”
“Things got busy.” I wouldn’t admit that I jerked off just two days ago, thinking of kissing him behind the bushes. “Sorry, not sorry.” I passed him a towel for his hand, then slid to my knees.
“Hey, you don’t have to.”
The tile was hard but his dick stood up so flushed and rigid I figured it wouldn’t take long.
Although the first taste of him as I swiped a lick over his slit made me hope to have enough time to enjoy this.
I pushed his briefs and jeans low under his ass and balls, then gripped his asscheeks and sucked that fat, red cockhead between my lips.
Callum groaned and leaned forwards, bracing a hand on the wall above me. I was caged by his thighs, and I liked that.
I sucked off him with a pop and said, “Fuck my mouth. I want you to.”
“I’m not small.”
“You’re awesome. I’m not a beginner.”
“Smack my thigh if you want to tap out.” Without further arguing, Callum set up a slow rhythm, thrust and withdraw, each push a little deeper into my mouth.
I relaxed my tongue and throat, held my jaw open, and accepted his fat length.
“Oh, fuck, you look good like that.”
When I rolled my eyes upwards, he was staring down at me as he fucked my face, his blue eyes shadowed with the light behind him, his lips parted. I moaned as he went deep, letting him feel the vibration.
He sped up, his thrusts rougher and less controlled. “Yeah, yeah, fuck. God.”
I choked and my eyes watered, but I didn’t pull back. I loved this, having a partner use my face, fill my mouth, while he lost control. His deep groans were music to my ears. The taste of him went bitter, stronger, and I was prepared when he gasped, “Coming.”
Closing my lips on him, I sucked hard and swallowed.
Callum emptied himself in my mouth in a thick, bittersweet, satisfying rush.
The way his ass bunched and shuddered under my hands was perfect applause.
He gave me more than I could handle, but I kept swallowing while cum leaked out the corners of my mouth and dripped down my chin.
“Jesus!” Callum pulled free, then bent, grabbed my elbows, and hauled me up into a sticky, spunky kiss. “You’re good at that.”
“Thank you.” I pushed past him to fill a tumbler with water and rinse my mouth. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
He took the glass from my hand, drank a sip, and passed it back. “I hope I didn’t wake the kid. I forgot we were supposed to be quiet.”
“You weren’t that loud, the fan’s running, and his bedroom is on the other side of the house. I think we’re fine. Not to mention he’s twelve, so odds are he wouldn’t know what he was hearing.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that, but maybe.” Callum ran the water in the sink and washed his hands, then dampened the corner of the towel and mopped at his jeans, pulling them up around his hips. “Speaking of people not knowing…” He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Hey, I promised I wouldn’t out you. That’s still true.”
“I’m not ashamed or anything. But two years back, the Dragons found out Rhys Farrell’s boyfriend was cheating on him with another player. They traded Farrell away, despite all his skills, and then at the end of the season, they dumped the other guy too.”
“Which means what?”
“Which means gay-player drama damaged their lineup.”
“Couldn’t the same thing have happened with a girlfriend?”
“Sure. But that’s ‘normal.’” He put the word in air quotes.
“This is new since the league went woke, according to the bottom-feeder fans. I’d bet it’s made the team management allergic to gay drama.
I want to play for the Dragons in the NAPH, if I can, with Grandpa living here.
I can’t afford to do anything to make me a less attractive prospect. ”
“Like getting penalties?” I teased, to cover how surprisingly disappointed I was to hear Callum in full retreat.
He rubbed his hair into a mess, then glanced in the mirror and tried to smooth it down. “Yeah, those too. I know I need to do better. My mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes.” He dropped his gaze.
“Don’t we all?” I didn’t like how he’d gone from wonderfully smug and satisfied to uncertain.
He’d joked about his penalty minutes, so I hadn’t realized they were actually a sore spot.
I kissed his cheek, feeling a tiny prickle of nearly invisible stubble under my lips.
Very different from my own thick five-o’clock shadow.
I liked seeing the clean line of his cheekbones and the faint cleft in his chin.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I reassured him. “But I wouldn’t mind doing this again, if we can be safe about it. You are so fucking hot, and I haven’t even seen you naked yet.”
He eyed me while zipping up, then smiled, although it was half the wattage of his full-on grin. “I’d like that. Yeah. My next two evenings, I have home games against Bakersfield. But Thursday I’m off.”
“I work this shift through Thursday. I have Friday through Monday off.”
“Edmonton Friday and Saturday. But they’re home games, no travel. So I’ll be around Sunday.”
I slid my hand up behind his head, moving slowly in case he wanted to dodge, but he leaned into my touch. Fisting his silky hair, I pulled him into one more kiss. “Sunday. We’ll figure something out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He reached for the lock on the door, then paused. “You might want to put your clothes back on.”
“Yeah, right.” I tugged my jeans straight and zipped them.
“If Jos wants to, tomorrow, he can come over to our place once Grandpa’s home. Watch a movie with him, maybe. Grandpa never minds having company. You can tell him I think it’d be good for the old man.”
“Thanks. I will.”
“I’ll go out first. Maybe wait a minute, in case. I’ll see you around.” Callum edged out of the door, closing it behind him.
I doubted Jos was waiting on the stairs spying, but Callum hadn’t been quiet, and you never knew. So I counted to sixty, washing my chin and eyeing my reddened mouth in the mirror. Nothing a twelve-year-old should pick up on. I drank a bit more water, then stepped out into the hall.
Callum called softly to me from the front door, “Heading out. Thanks for the use of the big screen.”
“Anytime.” I headed his way, but he was gone with the door closed before I reached the foyer. After setting the alarm, I peered out the front window, watching him cross the grass between our houses, vault up to his porch, and vanish safely inside.
I needed to be up again in less than seven hours, ready to talk to my kid brother, so I should’ve headed to bed.
Instead, I putzed around the living room, straightening cushions, clearing a couple of bowls and glasses, wiping the coffee table of crumbs and damp rings.
For the first time in a long time, I felt good, at home in my skin and relaxed.
The sight of that tree tattoo on my arm where the badge of shame had been pleased me, even in its scabby and healing state.
The faint lingering taste of Callum in my mouth and the echo of his voice reminded me I wasn’t just a cop or a big brother or an executor trying to puzzle out an estate.
I was a gay man who’d met another awesome gay man, and even though all we were doing was convenient sex, it’d included the best kisses I’d had in years.
I couldn’t wait to see where we went from here.