Chapter 6
SIX
Chris
Ivan’s lips moved tentatively against his at first. The scruff of his beard was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. When Chris didn’t immediately pull away, Ivan pressed harder, his large hands lifting to frame Chris’s face, holding him in place.
As if he was going anywhere .
Chris was shocked, but not the way he knew he should’ve been. He should’ve been stopping Ivan. Saying no. But he didn’t want to and he wasn’t going to. In fact, he wanted Ivan closer. Reaching around the bigger man’s body, he tugged at Ivan’s t-shirt until the man got the damn hint and swung one leg over Chris’s lap so he was straddling him.
“We’re gonna break this damn couch,” Ivan murmured between gentle caresses.
“We’ll buy what’s-his-name a new one,” Chris said, his voice rough.
“Frank,” Ivan reminded him.
He’d never allowed himself to imagine Ivan as a lover; it was a line he’d not permitted himself cross. Or a line he’d even admitted existed between himself and Ivan. But somewhere buried inside, he’d known the attraction was there.
Even so, gentle Ivan was a surprise. Deep in his brain, Chris noted that it shouldn’t have been so. He tucked that thought away to examine later. Maybe Ivan was worried Chris would shrink from his touch. Push him away. Order him out of the house. Chris thought he might shatter, but it wasn’t going to be because Ivan’s gentle hands were on him. It was going to be because he hadn’t known how much he’d really wanted this.
Ivan Morrison, chaos factor. Gentle like lightning.
Ivan must have sensed his distraction. “Is this okay?” he asked, his tone laced with concern and possibly a dash of insecurity.
“Yes,” Chris said firmly, trying to pull him closer so he could wrap his arms around him.
“You’re sure sure?” Now it was Ivan who hesitated, pulling away to look Chris directly in the eye. “This isn’t vodka induced, right?”
“No. And, yes, I’m sure. I know when my mom’s drinks are influencing me—and this isn’t one of those times.”
Maybe the vodka had helped to lower the walls he’d built around himself, but he’d wanted Ivan for a while now. He just couldn’t hide from that truth anymore.
“I’ve wanted this forever,” Ivan whispered as he returned his attention to Chris’s mouth.
He had? That was a discussion for later.
For now, Chris let himself be swept away by the tsunami of want and need barreling through him. The weight of Ivan kept Chris in place, pinned against the hideous fucking couch. Or maybe it was gravity doing its job, making sure Chris didn’t float off into the ether.
Ivan’s tongue darted against Chris’s lips, asking permission for more. With quiet desperation, Chris opened his mouth and let him in.
He lost track of their surroundings, of time. He couldn’t remember when he’d last just made out with a guy. Had he ever just let himself enjoy his partners? Sadly, Chris suspected the answer might be no. Wham-bam, don’t let the door hit you on the ass, that had always been his preference. No strings meant no getting hurt.
Ivan wouldn’t hurt him, Chris was confident of that. Would he hurt Ivan? Not on purpose. But he worried what they were doing would not have a happy ending, and Chris would end up making his parents sad. Again.
“Quit thinking so fucking hard, it’s distracting me,” Ivan complained, rocking against him.
They were both going to have beard burn in the morning but hey, in for a penny and all that.
“Should we take this into the bedroom?” Chris asked. He ran his hands down and across Ivan’s strong back; the slight shiver he felt under his fingertips was the perfect reward.
Ivan pulled away and, as stifling as it was inside the house, Chris felt cold.
“Are you sure about that?” Ivan asked, worry in his eyes.
“I’m sure.” Chris waggled his eyebrows, thrusting his hips upward. “Are you sure?”
“Damn right I’m sure.” Ivan hopped up and off Chris’s lap. “Where’s the damn bedroom?”
With a laugh, Chris pointed down the hall, chuckling as he followed Ivan to the bedroom. Hopefully, Frank would never know Chris and Morrison had enjoyed sexy fun times in his bed.
Maybe this vacation was going to turn out all right after all.
Frank’s dimly lit bedroom wasn’t much, and the mattress certainly didn’t compare to the one Chris had in Portland, but it would do. Ivan paused at the door, gesturing him inside with a goofy, “After you.”
Resisting the temptation to push him up against the door frame just so he could experience Ivan’s big body more thoroughly, Chris brushed past him into the room. Quickly, he divested himself of most of his clothing—all except his boxers—and climbed onto the bed.
“I’m not shy or unsure about this, but I didn’t bring any supplies and it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been tested,” he told Ivan.
Ivan swaggered toward the bed. “I’ve passed my recent exams with flying colors, so, next time. After your physical.” He waggled his eyebrows making Chris smile—again.
“Oh, there’s going to be a next time?” Chris teased back.
Ivan halted with one knee up on the bed, pushing it down. “Hell, yes, there’s going to be a next time.” He sounded almost outraged. “It’s taken me this long to get here, I’m not running the bases just once.”
Chris patted the sheet. “Quit stalling.”
“Stalling? I am wooing. I’m afraid if I move too fast, you might startle, come to your senses and disappear.”
“Ivan,” Chris said, earning a glance full of heat and promise. “I’m not going anywhere. Maybe I should take these off, after all.” Deftly, he tugged the boxers off so he was completely naked and rolled onto his back so Ivan could see for himself that Chris didn’t want him anywhere but in bed.
With him.
Ivan stared, seemingly speechless, watching as Chris pumped his own cock. He’d been half erect already so it didn’t take any time at all for his cock to fill his fist. A little precome pulsed out his tip.
“Are you just going to stare, or are you going to do something about this?” A wordless Ivan was something of a novelty. Chris thrust his hips upwards a couple times, his grip on his cock tight and sending sparks of need up his spine.
Shaking his head, possibly because his brain was coming back online, Ivan tugged the last of his clothing off and got on the bed beside Chris. Scooting as close as was comfortable, he tugged at Chris’s forearm.
“Lemme do that,” he rumbled.
Relaxing his fist, Chris felt Ivan’s fingers wrap around him and tentatively pump. Ivan was hard too. His bare cock brushed against Chris’s thigh, making him wish he was the kind of guy who was always prepared.
“I like it hard and fast,” he informed Ivan.
“That’s good information. But I bet that’s because you don’t like to waste time, Mister Efficient. We’re not doing this fast, Chris. Shift onto your side.”
He moved as he’d been commanded and was tempted to say something about Ivan being bossy, but then Ivan dragged his thumb underneath his glans and Chris couldn’t remember his name anyway. Almost by instinct, he wrapped the arm not trapped under his body around Ivan’s neck and drew his head closer to him, claiming his mouth for himself.
Ivan released a deep groan. His lips parted and his moving hand faltered for a second before starting up again, sending fireworks of pleasure that cascaded through Chris’s body. He was a river, a waterfall, a stream defrosting after a long, cold winter. Ivan was hot as the sun, relentlessly hot like a desert, brazenly hot like nuclear fusion. His entire purpose in this moment was to thaw Chris, to turn him into a pliable and needy being. And it was working.
Wresting back some of his fabled control, Chris plunged his tongue into Ivan’s mouth. His partner tasted of spicy barbecue and lemonade at first, but that was quickly forgotten. Kissing was an art as far as Chris was concerned. If you couldn’t take your time with it, why bother? And Ivan Morrison knew how to kiss. He didn’t stiffen his lips, he melded them against Chris’s. His tongue danced with Chris’s, flicking and teasing.
It was fucking sexy.
Ivan’s big hands and long fingers were wrapped almost entirely around both of their cocks—and through this kissing , he kept pumping. Chris didn’t know which sensation to focus on, the silken glide of their erections catching against each other or the way Ivan’s tongue dragged across Chris’s lips before he gently bit down on them.
“Oh, fuck, Ivan .”
His hips thrust convulsively. Chris was so close to coming, and from the heave of Ivan’s chest, he was too. Shifting again, Ivan pulled away, to make just enough space between their bodies so he could take them both to the stars.
There was nothing except low ambient light illuminating the bedroom. Still, Chris peered down between their bodies, watching Ivan’s hand piston slowly. Up, a squeeze, and down again. His balls tightened, the fireworks became conflagration. The show was about to reach its glorious end.
Ivan did one last sly twisty movement that sent Chris over the edge. His come pulsed out, spilling over Ivan’s fingers and the sheet, his cock twitching with the effort to still empty when nothing was left. Seconds later, Ivan was coming too, throwing his head back, his body stiffened for a moment as he groaned long and loud.
They lay there for a while, the sound of their breathing filling the empty spaces in his heart. Chris shut his eyes and started to drift off, only waking when Ivan got up and quickly returned with a warm cloth to clean them up.
“Thanks. Next time it’s my turn,” Chris murmured as he began to drift off. Just before he fell completely under sleep’s spell, he felt Ivan spoon up behind him and wrap his big arm around Chris’s middle, pulling him close.
Chris smiled.
Chris was the warmest and most contented he’d been in way too long.
He didn’t want to move, and the pillow over his face didn’t even bother him. The first pop that had trespassed into his subconscious, he simply incorporated into his dream. He knew he wanted to ignore the sound.
But then there was a second distinct pop, followed by silence, and now Chris was fully awake.
“What the hell,” he muttered.
“What the fucking hell?” Ivan responded dryly. “Not a car backfiring, that’s for sure. Isn’t this a retirement community?”
Sighing, Chris released his grip on the pillow and sat up.
“Retirement community doesn’t mean no weapons allowed. I bet some of these folks have full arsenals. I was hoping it was just a dream.”
“Sadly, no. Unless we’re doing some weird magic and sharing the same dreams.” Ivan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Although I suppose that could be possible,” he said with a leer. “Sex magic is a thing, after all.”
“Highly doubtful. Dammit. Last time I was down here the most exciting thing to happen was a near trampling when there wasn’t enough food at the Sunday barbecue.”
“It’s not Sunday,” Ivan pointed out.
“Nope.”
“Well, fuckity fuck.”
With a deeply felt grunt, Ivan sat up and rolled off the bed to his feet. For a second or so, he just stood there with his hands on his hips and a pout on his face. Then he spun around, waggled his ass at Chris, and grabbed yesterday’s shorts and t-shirt up from the carpet.
Yawning, Chris swung his legs out from under the sheet and fumbled around in the gloom for his shorts and boxers. They were both dressed in seconds. For a big guy, Chris had always been surprised by how quickly Ivan moved. He was deceptively fast, intelligent, and damn sexy.
Why the hell had Chris ignored him for as long as he had? Probably because Chris had refused to recognize Ivan as more than an employee.
Well, shit .
That was going to be an issue. Maybe.
The growl of motorcycle engines roaring to life urged Chris to hurry the fuck up. Ivan had his shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt on first and bolted from the bedroom with Chris close behind. By the time they reached the front door and threw it open, the bikes were gone, the roar of their engines fading quickly as the vehicles raced away.
The neighborhood was eerily quiet. A few interior lights were on, but that was it. Chris had expected open doors and curious citizens, but everyone had remained inside.
“Did we have an aural hallucination?” Ivan asked. “Were we the only ones to hear anything?” He was shoving his feet into a pair of sandals.
Chris shrugged. “Maybe everyone takes their hearing aids out at night?”
“Come on.”
Ivan was already jogging across the front yard toward the Taurus while Chris scrounged up both of his flip-flops, fervently wishing there was less jogging and more coffee.
As he pulled Frank’s front door shut behind himself, Chris asked, “Where are we going anyway?” It was o’dark thirty in the middle of the night, not a time he was intimately familiar with these days.
“Trying to find out what happened,” Ivan said. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” repeated Chris.