Duty and Devotion Page 5

  “Just you wait for my turn,” Matt said, low and intimate against Evan's ear as he turned the steaks over.

  Evan looked at the steak, then turned his head infinitesimally to see if anyone was on the beach. Watching them.

  “What? There's no one around,” Matt sighed, pulling his hands off Evan with obvious reluctance.

  “I'm just—I'd like us to have some privacy.” Evan relaxed his face and turned to his lover. “Don't need kids or people gawking…”

  “You know, I happen to think you're gorgeous and I'm no slouch, but I'm guessing no one is real interested in two middle-aged guys kissing in a backyard.” Matt shrugged, but he backed off. Evan knew he didn't agree with his “hands-off” policy in public, but he didn't push the issue. Much.

  “Dinner's ready,” Evan sighed. “Let's eat inside, okay?” A compromise because Evan would keep one hand on his fork and one hand on Matt—make him forget this minor bump.

  Evan suggested eating in the living room. He found the baseball game and turned it on, grabbing Matt a beer before he could even ask. The steaks were perfect, there were sides he brought from home—even a pretty sickeningly sweet cherry pie for dessert. No leftovers from the microwave for him, no “being in charge of dinner” for Matt.

  Vacation for both of them.

  Evan settled next to Matt on the couch; when he moved over to give him some room, Evan followed.

  “You're fine, stay right there,” Evan said, reaching for his fork and knife.

  Matt gave him a strange look. “What have you done with Evan?”

  “I left him in Queens,” he answered honestly, carving into his steak. “I can't promise new Evan is going twenty-four seven, but, uh—I wanted this to be a good weekend.”

  “So far, I highly approve,” Matt said, raising his beer in salute.

  “Sorry about outside.” Evan waved his fork. “I just—I don't know. I get weirded out by people seeing us together like—intimately.”

  “I really wasn't trying to fuck you against the grill.” Matt shrugged. He looked at the television. “I just don't get the big deal. Unless you're worried about gay bashing or something. But I'm pretty sure we could defend ourselves against that sort of shit.”

  Evan hadn't even thought about violence; well, there was something else to add to his pile of worries. His concerns were based on what people might think.

  He said it out loud without considering what the reason was.

  Matt looked genuinely shocked.

  “What people might think? There's something so tragic about ew, gay guys kissing being thought by a stranger? That's their drama, not ours.”

  “We're not…” Evan started to say, but Matt cut him off.

  “We're not gay? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean—we never were. I never was, you weren't—we're just…”

  “We're just two guys who sleep together every night and say I love you, and I'm helping raise your four kids? What are you calling that?” Matt's voice raised to a pitch that sounded like a fight was imminent. Silverware clattered against the plate.

  “Why does there have to be a label?” Evan dropped his own silverware and stood up, hands rubbing against his shorts. “Seriously—why do we have to say we're gay or straight or anything else? It's our lives. I thought you didn't care what strangers thought!”

  “I don't care what strangers think. Fuck 'em. I care about my friends and your kids and you. Specifically and most importantly—you. I care what you think.”

  “I love you, and I'm not going anywhere.” Evan gestured toward the bedroom. “Do you think I take that lightly? Do you think I am raising my kids with you without thinking it over about a thousand times? Labels don't change anything.”

  “No, they don't. You're right.” Matt's voice lowered. He clasped his hands and looked at the floor. “Labels don't matter. But being ashamed does.”

  “What? I'm not ashamed of anything. I'm just a private person.” Evan felt panic bubble up into his chest. “The people who matter know, in both our lives.”

  “Yeah. So why can't the rest of the world know?” Matt shook his head. “Fuck, this is stupid.” He laughed without humor. “I don't know why I'm hung up on this.”

  “I'm not ashamed. I'm not.” Evan sighed. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Matt seemed to shake off the bit of melancholy off and gestured back at his plate and Evan's. “Sorry—just… Let's finish eating.”

  “Okay.” Evan didn't know what else to say, and Matt seemed done with it—and God, he wanted not to have this conversation for another second. There was no easy answer with his emotions on this one.

  They sat and ate in silence. Evan pressed up against Matt, eating with one hand as the other brushed his arm, his thigh. It wasn't teasing, though—it was reassurance for both of them.

  A few hours later, the game was over and the pie was done. Fireflies, crickets, and mosquitoes banged against the screens; moths danced against the sconces outside the front door.

  “Tomorrow we'll go down to the beach,” Matt said as he flipped channels to the local news. “Supposed to be hot.”

  “We can swim.” Evan lay against Matt's side, their heads sharing a fringed throw pillow against the lumpy back of the couch. No further intense conversations to be had and the amorous mood had cooled enough for Evan to feel bereft.

  He needed to stoke the fire.

  “I think you made me a promise before,” he murmured, watching the temperatures for the rest of the holiday weekend CGI'd across the screen as a cartoon sun wearing shades.

  “Hmmm? I'll wash the dishes tomorrow,” Matt replied, putting his bare feet up on the coffee table.

  “No—not what I meant.” Evan turned his body, exploring the strong muscles of Matt's neck. “It's your turn.”

  Matt's body responded before he could formulate an answer; he clicked off the television and threw the remote aside.

  “Right, that's true,” he said, sitting up to face Evan—leaving him resting against the back of the couch. “Not sure I can top your, uh—surprise attack earlier.”

  Evan tried not to preen. “Well, you know. Do your best,” he said casually. “No pressure or anything.”

  “I'll see what I can do.”

  Matt leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against Evan's face. Evan closed his eyes halfway, waiting for the kiss, but Matt didn't make contact. He just kept breathing deeply as he moved, teasing Evan with anticipation.

  “What?” Matt murmured.

  “What?” Evan shifted on the couch, hard and needy, moving restlessly under Matt's dark stare.

  “You can't sit still.”

  “You're being a…a cock-tease,” Evan snapped, and Matt laughed against Evan's ear.

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  Matt didn't do slow and gentle now, no “let's take our time” seduction. His hands were on the waistband of Evan's shorts; then his hands were in Evan's shorts, yanking down the zipper and pulling his dick out through the opening in his underwear.

  Evan's head fell back against the couch, his fingers curling into Matt's too-long, so soft hair.

  Keeping the “cock-tease” theme, Matt exhaled a warm stream of air onto Evan's skin, the curve of his cock. Evan shivered, tightening the grasp of his fingers.

  “Come on,” Evan panted as Matt flicked his tongue against the head of his cock.

  “Mmmm no.”

  Evan made a sound of frustration that melted into a moan when the tongue he longed for made contact—against his stomach muscles. He kicked at Matt a bit, trying to maneuver him down, but they were equally matched in strength if not size; he couldn't move Matt off his legs, and Matt couldn't get him to settle.

  “Maybe I should flip you over,” Matt murmured, his hands dancing over the skin of Evan's inner arm, tracing the dark ink whirls of his tattoo. “Maybe I should tie you to the bed.”

  The air sucked ri
ght out of the room for Evan. His dick pulsed against Matt's cheek, and Matt laughed, dark and knowing.

  “Oh yeah? That your secret kink, baby? I can do that.” Matt didn't finish the statement, didn't elaborate, but Evan could imagine several scenarios that involved Matt and his police-issue handcuffs and none of them while he was on duty.

  “No,” Evan huffed, struggling to get Matt off his legs. When Matt did move, Evan wasn't free—no, Matt had taken advantage of his lack of attention and pulled him down onto his back. Now he was flat under Matt's strong body, hands trapped over his head, Matt's hands like Vise-Grips on his wrists.

  Evan opened his mouth to say something, but Matt wasn't giving him the chance to protest. Because Evan knew, even as he tried to tell himself this wasn't what he wanted—even as Matt's mouth swooped down and pulled the last bit of air from his lungs—that they both knew exactly how badly he wanted this.

  Matt's shorts were rough and grating against Evan's sensitive dick. Every few grinds of their bodies, the zipper metal would graze him. Evan's back arched every time, and Matt took notice. Too much notice, because suddenly Evan's wrists were free—and Matt's hands were on his hips. Moving him, jerking his legs apart as far as the material would allow and then more of the grinding and pressing, and God, Evan's dick was against his stomach and the cloth-covered bulge of Matt's was against his balls…

  His hands free, Evan shoved against Matt's shoulders, his head falling back as their mouths tore apart. His head slammed against the couch cushion, Matt over him and still moving.

  “Fuck,” Matt was whispering, over and over. Evan could only reach up and hold onto the arm of the sofa, words gone and need taken over.

  “Need…” Matt pulled away, and Evan cursed in frustration. He looked up at Matt, who was shaking his head. “Hold on, baby,” he muttered.

  His shirt went first, then he pulled his shorts off roughly, kicking them aside. He hovered over Evan, yanking his shorts off before coming back to rest against Evan again.

  But the connection of flesh Evan was waiting for didn't happen. Because it was a new angle, a different way for their bodies to fit. The head of Matt's cock brushed against the over sensitized flesh of his ball, then—lower.

  Evan groaned, shaking his head. “Can't… Don't have… Wait…” he sputtered, but Matt wasn't listening. And he wasn't pushing any further. Just gentle brushes of soft damp skin against the hidden recesses of Evan's body.

  His cock pulsed again, and this time Matt didn't leave him hanging. He felt that large warm hand tighten around his flesh as the pressure against his ass became rhythmic.

  It was too much. Too much like the visual fantasy of the past few months, too much like the porn he'd been secretly watching. He could imagine Matt pushing into him, and it was utterly terrifying, even as every stroke of his lover's hand brought him closer to completion.

  When he looked up, all Evan could see was Matt's face in utter ecstasy. His eyes weren't focused on Evan, he was staring down between them where their bodies were so intimately touching, and then it wasn't the touch or pull of his palm that made Evan's entire body jerk and spasm. It was the expression of hunger on Matt's face that sent Evan over the edge.

  Chapter Seven

  Matt watched Evan come and groaned deep in his chest. He had one hand on Evan's wet cock and one hand pressing his thigh up, and God, the head of his dick was just right there against Evan and if he just pushed a little…

  Evan whined, and Matt controlled his impulse even as he felt his orgasm tipping point roaring up.

  “Okay, baby, okay,” he rasped, letting go of Evan as he lowered himself onto his boyfriend's body. His dick fell into the crease of where Evan's leg met his torso, and it was enough to rut against until he came.

  “Uh, move,” Evan wheezed from under him as Matt rejoined the land of the living. He felt the sweat and come sticking them together in the humidity of the rental house and imagined Evan might be feeling like a squashed bug beneath him.

  “Hang on.” Matt leveraged himself up on spaghetti arms, dropping himself onto the sisal carpeting with a hiss.

  Evan sat up, his expression confused and satisfied at once. He looked down at Matt on the floor and offered his hand.

  “That rug is gonna leave marks.”

  “Mmmm…rug burns. Sexy,” Matt said as he grabbed Evan's hand and sat up. “You gonna kiss it and make it better?”

  Evan's eyebrows went up. “Right now?”

  “Are you under the impression we're done?”

  “We're not?”

  “Oh hell no. Get into the bedroom.”

  Matt expected an argument, but Evan didn't protest. He got up, wobbling just a little, and stepped over Matt—who enjoyed the view and made appreciative sounds.

  “You haven't been taking Viagra or anything, have you?” Evan asked as he headed for the bathroom.

  “No, but you seem to have the same effect as a little blue pill.” Matt heaved himself off the floor and followed, licking his lips in anticipation.

  “I'm…flattered.” Evan was standing at the door, still naked and striped with come, and Matt growled as he closed the space between them to cup Evan's face in his hands.

  “You're gorgeous. I want you so fucking bad,” Matt murmured, bringing their mouths together.

  “You've had me. Several times,” Evan said when they broke apart for air. “Not tired?”

  “Just getting started.” Matt grinned. “Still my turn, right?”

  Evan blinked. “If this is the part where the actual whips and chains come out, we're gonna have to have a talk.”

  “Eh, not really a prop guy.” Matt reached down for Evan's hand and yanked him into the bedroom. “But I did bring a few supplies.”

  Evan snapped on the weak bedroom lights, leaving them shadowy and shaded in the center of the room.

  “Like?”

  “Like what we'll need for—you know.” Matt tried not to lick his lips, but it was impossible. He'd been wanting this for so damn long it was starting to verge on an obsession. And now he had very clear evidence that Evan was seriously into the idea. Which made this the absolutely perfect time.

  “Uh, yeah.” Evan took a deep breath and stepped back, glancing around the room as if the lube and condoms were going to leap out and yell surprise. “So—do you want to…to go first?”

  Matt paused, trying to reconcile conversation brain with lizard let's fuck brain. “First—as in being on top?”

  Evan made a face, then looked down as if suddenly realizing he was naked and wearing the evidence of their little escapade on the couch. “Yeah, well—I thought you'd rather be—the other thing.”

  “The bottom.” Matt felt the stirrings in his groin start to wilt a bit. “You thought I'd rather be…”

  “Well, I've never done it.”

  “Uh, yeah, me neither.” Matt watched as Evan walked past him and into the bathroom.

  “Oh.” Evan's voice came from across the small hall.

  “When did you think I did, if I wasn't with you?” Matt asked, Twilight Zoned right out of the mood.

  Evan came out of the bathroom and reached back to turn out the light. “You know—when you and… When we broke up.”

  Matt's brain click-click-clicked into place, and he watched Evan walk back into the bedroom, now clean and pulled together, hardly the debauched sexy guy who was there three minutes ago.

  “Do you really want to go there now?” Matt asked as Evan sat on the edge of the bed.

  Those clear blue eyes looked up at him, cool and shuttered. “I just thought you and he…”

  “What? Fucked? I'd just met the guy. I've been sleeping with you for over a year, and we haven't done it. How does that make sense?” Matt was incredulous.

  “Well, Jim is gay, isn't he?”

  “Yeaaaaah.” Matt was starting to feel like he needed to be wearing clothing for this conversation.

  “So that's why I assumed—”

  Matt raised his hand. “First o
ff, I don't think it's like the law—you're gay, so you take it up the ass.”

  Evan flinched.

  “Or that you even have to fuck someone to make it…” Matt dug his hands into his hair and resisted the urge to pull. “If you wanted to know what Jim and I did, you could have asked at a time other than right now.”

  “It's relevant.”

  “Relevant? You can't use that word when we're about to fuck. You just can't. You also can't bring up other people we've slept with while I'm naked. It's just weird.”

  Evan was so calm and collected on the bed that Matt felt like a hairy beast. He stalked over to the duffels and dug around until he found a pair of boxers, then stepped into them angrily.

  “I'm sorry. I just—I don't know why you made the assumption I'd want to be on the—bottom.” Evan seemed to struggled with the word.

  “Because when we were messing around you seemed into it.” Matt gestured toward the living room.

  “And earlier today you were pretty into what I was doing, so, you know, not a slam dunk.” Evan sighed and reached over for the blanket, wrapping it over his legs.

  Matt simmered. “True. Okay, that's true. I shouldn't have assumed.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Matt kicked a tuft of worn carpet with his bare foot.

  “So do you want to—I mean, you want to, right? I'm not imagining you're into it?”

  Evan cleared his throat. “No, you're not wrong about that.” His eyes never raised from the rug. “But I don't know that I'm ready to be—the one it happens to, okay?”

  “Okay.” Matt looked over at his shaving kit where the lube and condoms were waiting. “So you want me to go first?”

  Evan finally looked up. There was something in his eyes, hesitant but yearning, that sold Matt a bit more on the idea. If Evan wanted this, if they both wanted it—why not? “Yeah. I do.”