Chapter 13 #2
Tracy bounced and took them. “We’re starting with Shook Me All Night Long. Get ready.”
Dillon noticed Coke’s eyes dragging over his body at the thought of shaking it.
Nice.
They might have to sneak out to the truck or something to get busy, but he could see it. Like, soon.
Nate tossed him the mic and they started, Tracy whispering explanations. Nate and Coke chose the hardest level, and when the song started, he damn near dropped his jaw. Look at Coke’s fingers go.
In fact, he lost them the round because he purely forgot to sing, and even as good as they played, they couldn’t save him.
“Sorry! Sorry. Can we start over?”
Nate hooted. “Absolutely!”
Apparently winning wasn’t the goal, here. Goofing off was.
This time Dillon sang his heart out and proved that he had perfect pitch once and for all.
Hell, two beers later he was singing Matchbox 20 and prowling around the front room like a kitty in heat.
He could feel Coke’s eyes on him, but, to his lover’s credit, not one beat was missed.
Hell, Tracy gave him a standing ovation while Nate tossed him a beer.
His cheeks heated up, but hey, he was a performer, right? He cooled off with the beer, and with taking Jerome out to potty.
He heard the boys singing when he came out, Coke doing a respectable Def Leppard while Nate howled. Jerome’s ears perked up and that long muzzle lifted, the hound puppy joining along.
Dillon laughed, grabbing a bacon treat on the way through the kitchen so Jerome would follow.
By the time he got to the front room, Jerome was trotting and howling and Pansy was yarping along, her yodel much higher pitched.
Tracy was rolling on the sofa, laughing so hard she held her stomach, and Nate was at the guitar, chicken walking across the floor like Chuck Berry.
Dillon howled in time with the pups, and Coke really poured himself into it, wailing like a crazy man.
When the song ended, he landed in Coke’s lap, the strong arms wrapping around him as the laughter filled the room.
Dillon thought about taking a kiss, but being a couple in front of people was still pretty new, so he settled for a hug. “You rock out good, babe.”
“Thanks for the game, cowboy. I sure do like it.” Coke seemed awake, and more relaxed than Dillon had seen him since Sammy’s accident.
“Me too!” Tracy was nodding all of a sudden, Pansy licking her hand where it dangled over the arm of the couch.
Nate grinned. “Been a long day, huh? All that traveling. Come on, baby. I bet Dillon’s guest bathroom is bigger than our kitchen.”
“Mmm. We could… I mean, I need a shower.” She turned bright pink.
“Uh-huh.” Standing, Nate held out a hand to his wife. “Night, y’all.”
“Night, Nattie. Pancakes in the morning, huh?” It said something—a lot—that Coke didn’t move him off to hug Tracy goodnight.
“You know it, Hoss.” Nate and Tracy waved and disappeared, heading off to go do what they were gonna do.
Dillon nuzzled Coke’s neck a little. “Happy, babe?”
“Mmm. I am. Love to hear you sing.” Coke was humming, rocking him.
“I like to sing.” He wiggled. “Like it better when you watch me dance.”
Coke gave him a great, strangled sound.
“Yeah. That was good huh?”
“Yes. It was. I love to watch you…” One hand slid over his thigh.
“Mmm. Wanna go lock ourselves in the bedroom?” He wanted privacy for what he was about to do.
“Hell yes.” Coke’s lips brushed the back of his neck. “Now is good for me.”
“Cool.” That was what he wanted to hear. They spent five minutes settling the bassets and turning stuff off. Then they headed for bed hand in hand.
Coke shut the door behind them, locked it, and leaned, smiling at him.
“Hey, babe.” He turned, going right into Coke’s arms.
“Cowboy.” Coke’s hands landed on his ass like they belonged there.
They did, really. Coke’s and no one else’s. “Missed you today.”
“Yeah. It’s good to have them here, but there’s something nice about just…being.”
“You know it.” He leaned a moment, listening to Coke’s heartbeat. “They had fun, though, huh?”
“They did.” Coke’s hand stroked through his hair, slow and easy, and his bullfighter hummed softly, sounding perfectly happy.
“Mmm. Love how you feel, babe.” Coke was solid, warm.
“Good.” Coke picked him up, carried him to the bed before he had a chance to point out that Coke wasn’t supposed to be lifting. It was hot, though, so once he was down, what could he really complain about? Dillon wiggled out of his sweats, spreading a little.
Coke groaned, licked his lips, eyes wandering over his body as the man undressed. “Finest man in bull riding.”
“Come and get me, babe.” He’d put Coke on the bottom, actually, but Coke didn’t need to know that yet.
The mattress dipped as Coke climbed on, and one hand slipped up his leg. “Gotcha.”
“Mmm. Now what?” He could think of, like, a gazillion things.
“That’s easy.” Coke stared at him, serious as a heart attack. “I keep you.”
“Yes.” Oh, God, when Coke said shit like that, he just melted. “Come here, babe.”
Coke got in push-up position, lowered himself down to cover Dillon. Hot.
“Don’t hurt your back…” He had to register the protest, even if he was about to get lost in the kiss.
“Mmmhmm.” Coke’s tongue slid over his lips, asking to be let in.
Dillon opened up, letting this kiss go deep, slow, and exploratory. Coke was in a good mood. He melted into the mattress, Coke heavy and solid on top of him. His hands moved, sliding along Coke’s shoulders, down the man’s ribs.
He could feel it, when Coke’s muscles started to argue, tremble. The kiss never changed, though. Not a bit. Dillon hummed, easing Coke over on his side so they faced each other, and he pressed one leg up to meet Coke’s cock.
“Dillon.” Coke pushed down against him, bit at his bottom lip as they moved.
“Mine, babe. You’re so mine.” He couldn’t ask for more than this, really. His Coke, laid out to love on.
“Yes.” Coke’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulled him in for another kiss.
His breath hitched, and Dillon had to have more.
He rose up on his elbow to push Coke down on his back.
Then Dillon crawled on top. He could feel Coke, hot and heavy against his thigh, pushing against him.
He reached down between them without even thinking about it, his fingers closing around Coke, his thumb rubbing. Hot. So hot.
“Dillon.” Coke spread, lips parting. “Fuck, good. More.”
“Uh-huh.” He could smell Coke’s need, the heat, and Dillon kissed Coke’s chin before heading south. He wanted a taste.
He spent a minute on those hard, dark nipples, lips teasing one to a hard peak. He let his tongue dance with it a moment, too, really getting Coke good and sensitive. Sweet.
“Dillon. Dillon, fuck. I…” A tiny bite had Coke jerking, cock leaking against him.
“Taste so good, babe.” He licked a little to ease the sting before moving on, following his favorite glory trail of all time.
“Love your mouth.” Coke’s cock was waiting for him, curved over that ripped belly.
“Love tasting you.” It was a great partnership. Like chocolate and peanut butter.
He lapped up the clear drops at the tip, fingers going to stroke Coke’s balls.
Coke moaned for him, muscles shifting under skin, the heat going up at least five notches in the room.
Yeah. That was how he liked it. Coke’s legs parted, hips moving slow and easy.
Dillon played with the heavy balls, tickling the thin skin covering them even as he sank down and took Coke’s dick all the way in. Deep.
He heard Coke’s strangled cry, felt the fat cock throb on his tongue.
He loved how Coke responded to him, loved every breath and shiver and drop of pre-cum. He went hunting for more, tongue working up and down. His fingers slid back, circled Coke’s hole, and Coke groaned, legs parting farther.
“Babe.” His finger slid right inside Coke’s body, which was tight and hot and amazing. So was the way Coke moaned.
“Yes. Want you.” Coke’s body squeezed his fingers.
“Me, too. I mean, I want you.” He wanted whatever he could get.
“Good. Another finger, cowboy. I need.”
“I got you, babe.” He did. He had Coke so good. He put two fingers in.
One of Coke’s legs drew up, and his lover moaned, riding him nice and easy.
“That’s it.” His lips moved against the head of Coke’s dick, and his fingers pushed in and out rhythmically.
He glanced up. Coke’s face was a study in need, in abandon. That look was his. Only his.
Dillon gave Coke another finger, knowing that would verge on pain. Not cause it, though. Just push Coke to the edge.
Coke grunted, cheeks flushing dark. “Oh, fuck.”
“That’s it.” Dillon murmured a few other inane things before sucking Coke back in, needing to feel Coke’s response.
One of Coke’s hands landed on his head—not pushing, but solid, touching as that sweet dick swelled, jerked between his lips. Right there. Coke was right there. One deep push of his fingers, one more swallow, and Coke was calling out his name, spunk pouring into his mouth.
Dillon took it all, his hips rocking a little at the amazing flavor that filled his lips. Fuck, he loved that.
Coke sank to the mattress, murmuring broken words, petting his hair.
“Better, babe?” Dillon kissed Coke’s belly.
“Uhn.” Ooh. Incoherence. He approved.
“Oh, good.” He climbed up and started humping Coke’s leg. Coke’s fingers wrapped around him, strong and sure, helping him out. “Oh. Oh, yeah, babe. Harder.”
“Anything.” Coke had calluses on his calluses.
“I need more, babe.” He needed pressure and friction.
Coke hauled him up to where he straddled the broad chest, both hands wrapping around his cock and pulling hard enough his eyes crossed.
“Oh, fuck. Coke. Babe.” Dillon rocked hard, his breath short, his balls pulling up.
“Mmmhmm. Gonna smell like you.”
“Uh-huh. I taste like you.” Dillon grinned, humping hard.
“Good.” Coke’s thumb rubbed hard over the tip of his cock, making him jerk. That was it. God, if Coke would just do that one more time… Coke teased him for two more strokes, then bingo. Paydirt.
“Coke!” Dillon spilled all over Coke’s skin, his own hand and belly and leg. Hell, yes.
Coke groaned, rocked under him, then rubbed him right in. Fuck, that was… Yeah. It made his cock jerk, the final hurrah almost painful, it was so good.
When he stopped shaking and slumped down, Coke was smiling for him. Dillon got it. He felt like grinning, too.
“Thank you.” Coke’s eyes were closing.
“Mmmhmm.” He’d classified Coke as ‘passes out after sex’ once. Some things didn’t change.
Coke chuckled. “Wasn’t talking to you, cowboy. Was talking to the good Lord about you.”
“Oh.” Oops. Dillon chuckled. “Ditto.”
Coke patted his butt and boom.
El Zonko.
Laughing, he wiggled into a better sleeping position, one that wouldn’t send Coke into paroxysms later in the night.
One arm curled around him, holding him close. Protecting him. That was his Coke, the cowboy protector. Even when he was unconscious.
Dillon wouldn’t have him any other way.