Outside the Office- Will romance survive? #mmromance #contemporary #redemptionisalongshot

Loving Jacob

An M/M Contemporary Romance

Chapter Three

Several weeks of hurried encounters later, Malcolm found himself once again rushing through breakfast with a bewildered Liam in order to reach the office early. He couldn't understand the niggling guilt that poked at his conscience any more than he did the urgent need to see Jacob. Adding to the unaccustomed emotional mix that caused his scrambled eggs and bacon to churn was a very troubling anger at having to cancel his plans with Jacob this evening in order to attend a school function with Penny and Liam.
I am not going to feel like this, he swore, rushing through the light foot traffic in front of the building. Calm down. A few deep breaths settled his protesting stomach somewhat, and deliberately, he paused before pushing open the tinted glass door. The frisson of excitement that prickled along his skin told him that Jacob was in the lobby somewhere. Malcolm refused to seek him out instantly. Instead, he paused to greet the perky young receptionist and grizzled old security guard where they stood at the marble information counter, poised to direct visitors to the building.
"Good morning, Molly, Ted." He fought the urge to let his gaze roam to the coffee bar. Jacob would be there. Would he be seated at one of the tiny tables for two, waiting for Malcolm, or engulfed in the crowd of laughing young men who hung on his every word?
"Sir. Lovely day," the receptionist responded timidly. The security guard merely smiled and nodded, and Malcolm couldn't stand it any longer. His hand tightened on the handle of his brown leather bag and the beat of his heart drowned out the click of the heels of his Italian loafers on the marble floor. He hoped like hell his emotions didn't show on his face as he turned toward the coffee bar. Slow, even pace, do not run, he cautioned himself as his gaze sought Jacob instinctively.
His gorgeous man stood at the counter, amethyst eyes twinkling and pink mouth stretched wide in a joyful smile. Malcolm felt the sudden smile that stretched his lips at the sight fade as he watched Jacob flirt outrageously with the Goth girl barista, covering her black nail-tipped hand with his own, before leaning across the gleaming mahogany bar. With a wicked laugh, the man-stealing little slut bent across the counter to meet Jacob as he moved forward. The girl's black lipstick-coated mouth closed in on Jacob's, and Malcolm's chest tightened as he watched in shock while they indulged in an obviously incredibly intimate kiss with a lot of tongue action.
His breakfast lurched in protest again as he remembered Jacob's words from their first encounter, "The man or woman with whom I share my life fully…" Fuck. Jacob was seeing other people? And why shouldn't he? Malcolm chided himself as he forced his feet to continue across the lobby. You knew he was looking for a Prince Fucking Charming, maybe he's decided on a princess instead. The thought that Jacob may have found someone else turned Malcolm's incipient nausea into an imminent threat.
Laughing, Jacob pulled back from the kiss and scrubbed black lipstick from his mouth with a napkin. He waved at the Goth girl and spoke a few words to the golden-haired muscled guy from accounting that stood in line behind him, and then picked up two insulated cups of coffee as he turned to find an empty table. When his searching gaze caught Malcolm's, his face lit up with excitement and the amethyst eyes sparkled with pleasure. His voice rang out across the lobby in greeting.
"Malcolm! There you are! I got your coffee. There's a table over here." He wound his way through the maze of tiny tables, gesturing for Malcolm to follow.
Surprised and appalled by the volume of that comment, which fell into one of those tiny moments of silence that sometimes occur even in busy places, Malcolm hurried over to the table Jacob had selected and seated himself.
He glanced cautiously around to see if anyone observed the intimacy of their meeting. No one paid them any attention. Relieved, Malcolm noted several tables where two men sat chatting together amongst the other mixed-sex couples and larger groups, and relaxed slightly.
He studied Jacob, who chattered away, oblivious to the roiling emotions making it impossible for Malcolm to concentrate, cheeks flushed, glossy pink lips smiling exuberantly. He'd seen that same look on that perfect face after he'd kissed Jacob, while they writhed together, cocks straining for release, bodies quivering in arousal and excitement. Only this time, he snarled inside, it wasn't your kiss that created the desire. He focused so intently on the movement of those lips, remembering them being devoured by the Goth girl barista, that he could barely distinguish the sounds that were coming out of them as words.
"Do you think I should get a tongue piercing? It felt amazing. I couldn't believe it. The soft wet heat, then the stroke of that metal ball rolling around in my mouth. I couldn't help imagining how it would feel on other parts of…"
Malcolm jerked his attention from Jacob's mouth to realize that the other man had grasped his hand and held it in his own in full view of everyone else in the lobby. He jerked his hand back in shock. What the fuck was he doing? Discretion. He had to be discreet. Holding fucking hands with another man in the lobby of his own office building was not discreet! It violated the parameters of his agreement with Penny, and shit…he'd be extremely lucky if he weren't the subject of gossip on everyone's tongue before lunch.
Too late he saw the hurt in Jacob's eyes as the other man's face paled and he dropped the offending hand into his lap. Whatever Jacob had been going on about before, Malcolm should have just stuck to what he needed to say this morning and left.
Before he could open his mouth to tell Jacob that he had to cancel their plans for the evening, the hurt vanished from his face to be replaced with a flush of anger. The amethyst eyes sparkled now with unshed tears, and the pink-lipped smile became a taut frown.
"What the fuck, Malcolm? What's going on?" Jacob kept his voice reasonably low pitched, for which Malcolm was grateful. He really didn't want a scene.
"Look, Jacob." He checked around again to see if anyone was watching them. "No PDAs, okay? I have to be in court at ten, and I…"
Jacob's face paled again, and his voice dropped even further, icy venom dripping from every word, this time there was no question of Malcolm not understanding everything Jacob said. "I'm not sneaking around to be some rich asshole's dirty little secret, Malcolm. Either you want to be with me, or you don't, but you don't get to drag me into the closet with you. I came out a long time ago, and guess what? I like living in the sunlight."
Fuck. "I'm not trying to drag you into the closet, okay? I just want you to be discreet here at work. I don't want people gossiping about us. Do you really want to be the subject of conversation at every desk and water cooler in the building?"
"I told you I wanted more than sex, Malcolm, and I haven't changed my mind. I'm looking for the whole shebang, two point five kids, a badly trained dog, a fluffy if somewhat disdainful cat, house in the suburbs, and a lover to help shoulder the load."
"And I told you I am not that man. Is that what was up with you and the barista? You ready to quit practicing and go for the real thing?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew it had been a mistake to let them escape.
Jacob stood, picking up his coffee cup. "Practice is canceled, Malcolm."
Guess that took care of the problem of Liam's school function tonight. Malcolm rose from the tiny table and scowled at the Goth barista, who responded to his unsolicited belligerence by sticking out her tongue at him. Her pierced tongue. He shuddered, comprehending Jacob's earlier blathering gratefully a little too late as the thought of Jacob's tongue adorned by one of those slick shiny metal balls tracing over his cock caused a predictable reaction.
He raced for the stairs, certain that the elevator would be just the thing to send his unsteady stomach over the edge. The trip up to the third floor in the silent enclosed stairwells should have given him time to calm down, but he couldn't stop the echo of Jacob's icy voice in his head, "Practice is canceled, Malcolm. Practice is canceled, Malcolm." It resounded with every footstep on the metal stairs, and by the time he slammed the door open on the third floor, Malcolm barely made it to his private bathroom before losing his breakfast.
Back at his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch, tipped it back and gulped a quick belt to settle his stomach. Breaking up with a lover had never caused such a reaction. Fix it, an insidious voice inside whispered. He had a horrible premonition that voice came from his heart, not his cock. Replacing the bottle and closing the drawer with a thud, he reminded himself he had to be in court at ten and didn't have time to fix anything.
The memory of purple eyes drenched with unshed tears interfered with what little work he attempted to complete before leaving for court, until with an exasperated sigh, he paused by Marge's desk on the way out.
"How many people does Martin have working for him in the tech department?" he mumbled.
"Three. There's that gal from USC, the little nerdy guy who fixes stuff, and that programmer you had me call up here before. The cute one, you remember?" Marge's smirk grated on his nerves, but Malcolm persevered.
"That's the one I need. I'm going to be in court all afternoon, but can you email me his contact information? I have a project I'm going to need help with."
The elevator's shiny doors slid shut on Marge's disbelieving gaze, and Malcolm was tormented on the short ride to the lobby by visions of himself on his knees in the elevator, taking Jacob's throbbing cock deep in his throat and begging the man without words to come for him, and only him.
His phone vibrated against his hip as he stepped reluctantly into the lobby. His hand went to it automatically as he forced his gaze away from the coffee bar, where the barista flirted with another customer. He'd overreacted. He knew it. Jealousy was just so fucking new to him. The humiliation of this morning's incident couldn't keep him from hoping that the vibrating phone meant Jacob wanted to talk to him. Flipping it open, he saw an email from Marge with the information he'd asked for.
Should he call now? His fingers tingled with the need to dial the phone. He wanted to explain his feelings to Jake. Make plans for a meeting in the morning. They could have their coffee in his office before anyone arrived and reestablish the rules they'd agreed upon weeks ago. Fuck buddies without penetration. Discreet fuck buddies. Remembering Jacob's anger, he decided to wait until the evening to call and give the other man time to cool off.
Teary purple eyes tempted him to call throughout the tedious jury selection process, and more than once, he jerked his hand from his cell phone with a silent curse. Patience and discretion, he cautioned himself. Give Jake the opportunity to realize he'd been protecting both of them from gossip. Discretion and sneaking around were not the same thing.
Six hours of jury selection tried Malcolm's patience to the edge of its existence and he'd barely seated himself behind the wheel of his luxury car before he had his phone out and input Jacob's number from Marge's email. The phone rang only twice before it was answered.
"Jacob?" he asked, caught by surprise. Why hadn't he planned what he wanted to say more precisely? Fucking eight years of school and fifteen years of speaking to judges and juries, and he couldn't put together a logical sentence when talking to this man.
"Malcolm?" Jacob's voice sounded slightly hoarse. Remembering the tears he'd seen earlier, Malcolm immediately wondered if Jacob had been crying over him.
Hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer, he asked, "Are you all right?"
A deep sigh over the airwaves was his only answer.
Concerned, Malcolm forced himself to speak. "I…" Shit. "Meet me in my office tomorrow morning?" Remembering being stood up after his first order to Jacob to meet him in his office, Malcolm was glad it had come out as a question and added, softening his voice to a husky whisper, "Please."
"Okay, I'll be there. I'm sorry about this morning." Jacob's voice had gained strength. "It was just a casual kiss, with Kelly, I mean."
Malcolm smiled at his phone. "I overreacted. I'm sorry. I'll see you in the morning."

Sales Links


Blog Tour Update! #mmromance #giveaway #pridepromotions

Hey everyone,

Quick update. Today the Loving Jacob Blog Tour is at

BFD Book Blog where we discuss the inspiration behind the story, my writing space, and more.

and also….

It's Raining Men – where I share ten things about myself you might not already know.

There's a giveaway for a $10 All Romance gift card – so remember to stop by and visit! 

Cover Reveal: The Pinch of the Game Charlie Descoteaux #pridepromotions #mmromance

Author Name: Charley Descoteaux

Book Name: The Pinch of the Game

Release Date: June 24, 2015

Being a witch doesn’t mean one can beat the devil forever.

Jeffrey Overton, unemployed IT professional turned poker player, pushes his luck once too often and runs afoul of the host of an illegal card club. The man sent to escort Jeffrey to a “meeting” about his supernatural winning streak arrives at Jeffrey’s crappy North Portland apartment, lock-picking tools in hand and a charm to block Jeffrey’s magick.

Head muscle for said host, Mike Wells, is a Daisy from Daisyville. He isn’t a witch. What he lacks in magickal talent he makes up for in brawn, so he doesn’t expect the guy he’s after to overpower him. But once Mike renders Jeffrey helpless, he’d rather seduce him than bring him in.

Jeffrey and Michael ditch the “meeting” and end up hunting some of the same people they ran from, trying to get Jeffrey back into his own body. And that’s only part of the adventure. The pair travel halfway across the country on the quietest road trip in history and find missing people, empire-building witches, and maybe even the families they’d both thought lost to them.

Categories: Contemporary, Gay fictions, M/M Romance, Mystery, Paranormal, Romance

If Sal had sent someone after me, a short trip up to Seattle might be a good idea, maybe even BC. That called for some new clothes, so I grabbed my battered gym bag—my quick escape kit—and was almost home free when the kitchen door burst open. It would’ve been dumb to turn off the light when the goomba first went to work on the lock—I can’t see any better in the dark than your average Daisy, not when I’m blocked. Once that massive body filled the doorway, I wished I had. Wished I’d done something.
He hesitated, barely a moment, and I bolted for the front door. He grabbed me before I made it out of the kitchen and pinned both of my arms to my sides. It wouldn’t work, I knew that, but I still tried to burn his hands. All I needed was enough time to—fuck, is he laughing?
“Give it up, pretty boy. You’re blocked.”
The big man pushed me against the wall face-first and pulled both hands behind my back.
“Hey, wait a sec, big guy. Let’s talk about this. I can—”
He pushed me flat against the wall, and the rest of that sentence disappeared in the rush of air he squeezed from my lungs. I couldn’t help being turned on, even though pain and domination usually aren’t my thing. Neither are bears, but underneath the padding he felt nice and solid, leaning full against me. He tightened a plastic zip tie around my wrists with shaking hands. And then he held me there.

About the author:

Charley Descoteaux has always heard voices. She was relieved to learn they were fictional characters, and started writing when they insisted daydreaming just wasn’t good enough. In exchange, they’ve agreed to let her sleep once in a while. Charley grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area during a drought, and found her true home in the soggy Pacific Northwest. She has survived earthquakes, tornadoes, and floods, but couldn’t make it through one day without stories.

Where to find the author:

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/CharleyDescoteauxAuthor

Goodreads Link:
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: AngstyG

Tour Dates & Stops: May 22, 2015

Rafflecopter Prize: $10 gift card and backlist book of choice

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Adoration of strangers means more to you than... #500words #mmromance #flashfiction

Flash Fiction May #3

Happy Friday! TGIF huh? *sips coffee* You ready to get flashed? This pic was chosen by Havan...and I have to say... oohh whee I wouldn't mind seeing that in my kitchen!

naked kitchen Dollarphotoclub_74859172.jpg

Flash Fiction May #3
The neat kitchen startled Brant. Vince had never been neat. “How do you live like this?” He rubbed the back of his neck and contemplated the man sleeping in the outer room. Vince Mayburn, soap star, best friend… and as of last night, lover. The changes in Vince - a man he’d known since kindergarten where they bonded over reading while their classmates sounded out their ABC’s- shocked him.
Throughout childhood, intelligence isolated them. It intimidated classmates and teachers, which was okay with Brant. He didn’t need people when he had numbers.
Vince was different. A deep need to be loved made him turn his back on numbers, languages and logic.
“This is the result of trying to be someone you’re not.” Brant scowled at empty shelves. His stomach grumbled. “Lose thirty pounds and America loves you but fuck it all!”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s no food.” Brant twisted to face Vince. The thoughts milling around in his head for once had nothing to do with numbers. Vince was beautiful, his bushy brows plucked to defined lines, stubbled jaw, hair… Brant mourned the loss of the shoulder length locks even as he appreciated how the short cut emphasized a jawline no longer hidden in baby fat. The Vince he’d loved was still there, in the green eyes and plump lips.
“There’s food.” Vince pecked him on the lips. “Just not premade and loaded with sugar and preservatives.” He pulled on an apron. “Take a shower. I’ll make pancakes and bacon. How’s that sound?”
Chewing his lip, Brant wavered. He wasn’t really mad about food. it was so much more than that.
“Okay.” He muttered resentfully, as Vince went about the business of cooking. “But--”
“While you eat, we can talk about what’s bothering you.”
“How can you do this?”
“This?” Vince’s smile faded. “You mean, act? Lose weight? Dress nicely and live in a place that doesn’t resemble my parents’ basement?” He slammed a skillet down. “I love this life, Brant. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“You’re wasting your gifts... your brain.” The words tumbled out in a damning cascade. Brant cringed. “You could put men on Mars or discover the cure for cancer. Instead…” He sputtered to a halt.
“’I play a businessman with a dark streak on a daytime soap. It’s a challenge. I’m up for renewal, a raise and probably twice the airtime next season.”
“So the adoration of strangers means more to you than--”
He broke off, shocked.
“You?” Vince shook his head, lips twisting in an emotionless smile. “No.”
“I loved who you used to be.”
“Who? The man who couldn’t be himself because his own body… his own timidity kept him from living life?”
“My friend…” Brant choked. “I loved the boy I grew up with, the one who understood me.”
“That’s still me, just not all of me. I’m not just a brain… ” Vince wiped at his cheeks. “I want you to love me, the real me, just like I love the real you.”


Crawl in Bed With the Men of Laura Harner's Cliff's Edge #mmromance #pridepromotions

Crawling Into Bed With Laura Harner (Cliff and Ryan)
And a Good Book

Hey there Laura. I see you brought company.
Hi Lee. Wow…it’s sort of unusual to see you in such a big room. I’m used to our little chats. It makes me feel all grown up and everything. *peers over Lee’s shoulder* uhm…where’s Havan?

Havan? She's probably lurking around somewhere. There were cookies, so she might just have…. 
Havan: um…yeah, the key word there was “were” *blushes*
Help yourselves to coffee.

Oooh, thanks for the coffee! *sips and sighs* I hope you don’t mind if Cliff and Ryan answer your questions? They promised to behave themselves.
Havan: Ryan and Cliff?!?!? Heck-to-the-no we don’t mind…um *looks at Lee* I mean of course we don’t mind extra hands…and mouths…and legs…and other things…
Well, they do have a certain appeal. Let's give it a shot, huh? Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?

Ryan: *snort* Who the hell uses silk sheets? These are even better.  I got these at the fancy French store down the street.
Cliff: *frowns* You did? I thought they were cotton…
Ryan: *laughs* Idiot. They are cotton. I got them at Tar-g├ęt.
Cliff: *swipes Ryan on the back of the head*

*mouths tar-jay** Eyes Laura* What are you wearing?
Cliff: *raises sheet to take a long look*
Ryan: *hand slides under the sheet, begins a slow pumping motion*
Cliff: *growls and reaches for lube*
Laura: *clears throat*
Lee:*wipes brow*

What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Ryan and Cliff: Mmmmm…
Laura: All right you two, knock it off. I told Lee you’d answer a few questions.
Ryan: It’s not our fault he sent us under the sheets.
Cliff: Rhino has a point. *turns to look at Lee* If you wanted us to remain focused, you should have started somewhere else.

If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Rhino: Well, it would have been the lube if Cliff hadn’t already taken it out on the last question!
Cliff: *clears throat* Uhm…there might be handcuffs in there, still.

Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Ryan: Covers?
Cliff: Yeah, I can’t say we use covers. We only have a sheet on because Laura made us for the interview.

Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Ryan: Can I put my handcuffs on your wrists and spank you?
Cliff: huh…mind if I watch?
Ryan: Oh baby, I’m counting on it.

*blinks* Why does he have handcuffs? 
Havan: Why wouldn’t he have handcuffs?
Don't answer that!  What are we reading?

Navy SEALs Cliff “Snides” Snyder and Ryan “Rhino” Matthews have been moving comfortably in each other’s worlds for two decades. Best friends since attending BUDs twenty years earlier, and despite playing for different teams, they’re often accused of acting like an old married couple—much to their amusement.
Assigned to shore duty for his final tour before retirement and without Ryan to anchor him, Cliff’s restlessness leads him to a local club and hands-on research that leaves him in a compromising position and a witness to murder—signaling the abrupt end of his Navy career. Needing a place to lay low and lick his wounds, Cliff visits his old friends at the Willow Springs Ranch while he considers making cowboy his new job title.
After six long months on deployment, Rhino returns to San Diego—only to discover Cliff’s gone dark and the unlikely words ‘poor judgment’ are hanging in the air. Despite the offer of a prestigious assignment, Ryan opts to track down his best friend first and finds him at the WSR…along with more questions than he ever expected. With the most coveted orders for a SEAL dangling, twenty years of service under his belt, and Cliff determined to move on without him, decisions must be made.
Ryan is certain he has the perfect solution going forward, but Cliff knows he must face the fallout of his actions alone—and the one thing he’s determined to do is protect Ryan from making the biggest mistake of his career—even if it costs Cliff everything. You know what they say—the only easy day was yesterday.

Cliff stumbled a little in the dark of his bedroom, reluctant to turn on the lights and ruin his night vision. It had been a long while since he’d had so much to drink—or felt so relaxed. There was definitely something to be said about being on the WSR, away from anyone who might know him or what he did for a living.
In their careers, it was conceivable they could be targeted for one of their field actions or just by virtue of being Navy SEALs. Just like the cops who’d enjoyed harassing him once they’d discovered his profession. Some people needed to try to knock down others to feel good about themselves. But here? He and Ryan were just a couple more guys.
He stripped to his boxers and tossed his jeans onto the chair before pulling back the covers on the king-sized bed. A shudder raced up his spine, and for just a moment, he remembered the frustration and helplessness of the situation when he’d been trapped on the other bed…listening to those fucking punks. His stomach clenched at the thought of Gentry and Draco. Their bodies had been removed by the time the cops saw fit to release him from the alcove, but he’d never forget listening to their last moments or the blood that soaked the floor when he’d been led through the office to the stairs. Ryan would eventually ask for details about how they died—especially Draco, since they’d been friends—but they’d both learned to compartmentalize death a long time ago.
That didn’t mean they weren’t affected by loss, but there was a time and a place to mourn, to say good-bye, and it wasn’t while the battle raged. Despite several warnings from the DA and lead investigator, Cliff would like nothing more than to hunt down those gangbangers and make them pay…and Ryan would be more than happy to help. He recognized the danger in those thoughts, as well.
Blowing out a breath at the loss of his mellow mood of a few minutes ago, Cliff moved silently on bare feet to open the bedroom door and listened. The quiet murmur of television voices from behind Ryan’s door would mask any noise he might make. Hell, Rhino was probably passed out on his bed already. 
Cliff padded to the refrigerator, considered then dismissed the idea of another beer. He had a long drive ahead of him in the morning. Grabbing a bottle of water instead, he drank half down in one long pull.
Turning, he found Ryan standing near the counter, watching him. With the moonlight streaming in through the window providing the only illumination, his friend’s face was difficult to read, but his naked body was a little hard to miss.
“Want some?” Cliff held the bottle of water in Ryan’s direction.
With a nod, Ryan took the bottle and finished it off. With a perfect aim, even in the near total darkness, he tossed the empty into the wastebasket. “And the crowd goes wild.”
“Idiot,” Cliff said, opening the fridge for two more bottles of water. Once again passing a bottle to Ryan, he started to head back to the bedroom. Ryan’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“I…uh…had a good time tonight.” Ryan’s words weren’t slurred, but there was a lazy cadence beneath the stilted delivery that spoke of too much tequila.
“Yeah, me too. Ty and Cass are good folk. They’ve made this place a good home for a lot of guys who needed a fresh start.”
“Is that what you’re thinking of doing? A fresh start out here as some kind of cowboy? ’Cause, man…I could see the attraction. You out here surrounded by all those hot guys—I mean obviously not the couples, but there were at least half of them in there single, right?”
Cliff laughed softly at Ryan’s concern for his love life. “Yeah…sorry about that. I didn’t even think about how you might have felt…surrounded by all those guys.” He studied Ryan’s face. “You weren’t offended, right? I mean you’ve been to gay clubs with me and it’s never bothered you…”
“Offended? Nah…why would I be? You never were offended at the straight clubs, right?” His hand tightened on Cliff’s forearm, and he seemed to weave a little on his feet.
“Hey, Rhino, come on. You need to get some sleep—”
“Are we having a bromance?” Ryan blurted.
“A bromance?” Cliff laughed, and Ryan’s eyes narrowed. Oh boy, never laugh at a drunk who thinks he’s making an important point.
“Yeah, a bromance. Where two guys hang out all the time, like the same shit, would probably fuck each other if they were both gay—or if one of them was female.”
Fighting off more laughter, Cliff nodded. “Sure, you can call it that. Come on, princess, let’s get you to bed.”
Ryan didn’t yield when Cliff tried to pull his arm free in order to lead him toward the bedrooms. “What do you think? Should I take the orders?”
“What, are you nuts? You’ve been waiting for those orders your whole career.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem…my whole career.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re not the only one eligible to retire. Just because you had two years prior service in the Marines before you joined the Navy, you’ve got more time in service than me, but yeah…it’s been twenty years this month. I don’t know if I want one more tour. That’s another four or five years, in order to retire at the new pay grade I’d no doubt pick up in the next year or two.
“True, but it’s also more money when you do retire. And, Rhino…it’s Six.” He referred to the DEVGRU unit by their unofficial name, hoping to jar a little sense into his friend.
Squeezing his arm a little, Ryan leaned in, as if imparting a great secret. “You should be there.”
Cliff shook his head. “That’s done. We don’t even need to think about it. I just gotta figure what I want to do next.”
“See, Snides…that’s the thing. If I have to wait another four or five years before I retire and you move on, you’re going to get too fucking far ahead. I don’t like that. ’Sides, that’d mean no more football or watching NCIS. You’d get to see all the episodes of So You Think You Can Dance without me telling you how gay that is.”
“Ha, now I know you’re drunk. We only watch that because you like the women’s skimpy outfits. You probably need to quit hanging out with me and spend the next six months of your training cycle finding the right little woman and getting laid on a regular basis. Hell, get a wife! Then you’ll be all set for retirement when you’re done with the next tour. She can cook your sorry ass dinner, wash your clothes… Yep…you need a wife.”
“Fuck that shit. I’d sooner fuck you than ever get married again. In fact—”
Time seemed to stop, as if they both needed a moment to absorb the truth of those words.
“Careful what you wish for, Ryan,” Cliff said, his voice a ragged whisper. His cock went rock hard, ignoring every warning he could throw out that this wasn’t going to happen. Ryan was drunk, and they both were horny, but this was a line neither of them needed to cross. Too much was at stake for a little temporary relief. Guilt and regret could kill a friendship.
Even as all the reasons they needed to walk away raced through his mind, the moment stretched. For once Cliff had no idea what Ryan was thinking. Cliff started to pull his arm away again. Rhino shifted his grip and guided their joined hands to brush over Ryan’s hard cock.
“Not going here with you, Ry. Not worth a friendship.”
“Won’t cost anything. You weren’t wrong to try it, you know.”
“Try? What are you—”
Ryan’s hand closed around Cliff’s erection. “To try a little bondage. To let someone else take control.”
Cliff jerked his hips to free his cock. “Is that what you think? That I enjoyed lying there while—”
“Don’t be stupid, Cliff. Of course not—not that night—not there. But here? Oh yeah…suck my cock, baby. Come on, we both want this tonight.”
Ryan didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. Sure Cliff had been at Draco’s to find out more about the lifestyle. Ryan above everyone should know that even though they played on different teams, they were both dominant men, both used to being in absolute control. He had to make Ryan shut up, to stop this foolishness before he said things they’d both regret come morning.
Twisting roughly away, he body slammed Ryan against the wall. A small smile lingered over the other man’s mouth, and Cliff bent in, not to taste it, and definitely not to feel those familiar lips pressed against his…but to wipe away the knowing, mocking smile.
Their mouths crashed together, a fusion of teeth and tongues, of malty beer and tart tequila, and an underlying touch of cinnamon. With his hands pressed to the wall on either side of Ryan’s head, Cliff leaned down, taking advantage of their height difference. Ryan’s face tilted up, his hands sliding over Cliff’s bare chest to pinch his nipples.
Ahhh…he wanted to shout. Fire raced through his nerves as the little buds burned and the heat streaked straight to his cock and tightened his balls. Ryan took advantage of Cliff’s momentary distraction and snaked an arm up, his fingers twisting in Cliff’s hair and holding him tight while he plundered Cliff’s mouth. With his pulse thundering erratically, he lost himself in Ryan's kiss. Closing his eyes, he leaned into Ryan, their hips brushed together and a hard cock pressed against his. Ryan’s tongue slid over Cliff’s, teased the roof of his mouth, teeth scraping over lips. Cliff moaned as desire built.
Ryan gave another hard tweak to his nip then scraped his nails through Cliff’s chest hair and up to his shoulder to apply a not-so-subtle downward pressure. Using his hair like a handle, he pulled Cliff’s head back from the kiss.
“Now, Cliff, baby. I want you on your knees.” He released Cliff’s hair and started pressing down. “You’ve always said no one can give a better blow job than another man…show me.”
They were almost the same height, just a couple of inches separating them, but right now, the way Rhino looked at him, pushed at him to drop to his knees and bend to his will, was fucking sexy. The two of them had been friends for twenty years, yet this was a road they’d never even remotely discussed traveling together.
A distant part of his mind sensed the danger, worried their friendship wouldn’t survive the morning light if he capitulated, but damn… Cliff had never seen Ryan like this. Commanding bordering on arrogant? Sure—but never aimed in his direction. It had always been the two of them together…going through training, facing battle, taking out bad guys. Either of them could quell the arguments of others with a look. When they walked into a room of civilians, people stared. They’d both been told their confidence was sexy…
Why was Cliff only seeing this side of Ryan now? Was it all drink? That made no sense—they’d been drunk together plenty of times. Seen each other naked a thousand times. Hell—they’d seen each other hard, too. He could recall quite clearly the apartment they’d shared fresh out of BUDs and—and the night Rhino had overlooked the lanyard hanging on Cliff’s door and stumbled in to catch sight of Cliff’s dick shoved down some guy’s throat. Ryan had teased him for weeks before Cliff finally told him guys really knew what another man wanted. The sonofabitch was using his own words against him.
The horny ass had just come off mission and probably needed to get off and didn’t care who sucked him. Or was there something more?
For fuck’s sake. I can’t just stand here all night thinking about it.
Ryan’s eyelids were heavy, almost lazy as he blinked up at him, and his mouth curved up on one side, as if he’d been following Cliff’s jumbled thoughts. He pressed down once again, and this time, Cliff followed the silent direction and dropped to his knees, ignoring the sexy as sin moan of satisfaction from Ryan when he thought he’d won.
There was nothing subtle about the way he drew the tip of Ryan’s cock into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the fat, leaking tip and got his first salty taste as he sucked hard…almost too hard.
Ryan dragged in a breath, then grabbed Cliff’s hair, holding him in place for a long minute. Finally, he placed his palms on Cliff’s cheeks and tilted his face, a silent command to look up. When he did, Cliff inhaled sharply at the hungry, almost possessive look.
Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he traced his thumbs over Cliff’s mouth, his lips stretched around the heavy swollen cock. “That’s not the way this is going to go, Cliff. This isn’t a race, and nobody’s being punished. Show me you want this, baby…”
Fuck. If Ryan called him baby one more time with that little growl in his voice, Cliff might just fucking shoot right here and now.
Closing his eyes in order to break whatever spell Ryan wove over the two of them, Cliff slowly started to move, savoring the taste and feel of Ryan’s shaft before pulling off with a wet pop. He buried his face between Ryan’s legs, forcing him to widen his stance. He pressed against the coarse hair at Ryan’s groin with his fingers, thumbs behind his balls, creating a perfect frame with his hands. Nuzzling in for a moment, he captured the unique smell of Ryan, breathing deeply, memorizing. Drawing his sac forward, Cliff dragged his tongue over the sensitive skin, following the wrinkles and ridges, using the pattern of Ryan’s ragged breathing to guide his movements. He pulled one of the orbs gently into his mouth and sucked, enjoying the way Ryan moaned for him. Cliff repeated the process then took the whole sac into his mouth, his cheeks stretched to their limits, tongue separating the fragile balls, massaging, teasing.
Ryan’s knees wobbled a little when Cliff released his sac to move back up his cock, laving, stroking.
“That’s it…good. So good,” Ryan murmured, his voice like black velvet.
A thrill of excitement swirled low in Cliff’s belly at Ryan’s tone. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this—the forbidden thrill of taking his best friend in his mouth, making him weak with need. He moved his mouth faster, licking up drops of pre-cum with his own moan of pleasure.
Ryan’s big hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him forward, encouraging him to take more, pushing his hips forward in time to Cliff’s sucking. His heart thundered uncontrollably as Ryan continued to encourage him with “Yeah, baby” and “So good.”
The dialogue would have sounded cheesy in a porn video, but the endearments seemed to go right to Cliff’s dick. He worked a hand inside his boxers, stroking himself as he continued to suck and lick Ryan. His gaze traveled up Ryan’s hard body, caressing each curve and swell of the chiseled pecs and tight abs. He knew the brutal workouts that put each of those muscles in place. For years they’d worked side by side as they sweated and pushed each other, dragged each other through sand and water. They’d held each other and cried when they’d lost their first teammate. And the second…
They’d stared into each other’s eyes, and with no need to speak their thoughts aloud, had shared both agony and exhilaration. Now, he was here, on his knees, and taking his best friend somewhere he’d never been before—and dear lord, don’t let it be something that would cost them both.
“Stay right here, Cliff—focus on me,” Ryan said. The hand in his hair tightened, then he was held in place as Ryan pushed deeper, cutting off Cliff’s breath for half a second—just long enough to let him know who was in control of this blow job.
“Just like that, Cliff. Going to do it again—”
Cliff’s throat spasmed around the thick cock as Ryan repeated the move, holding him in place longer, his prick deeper than the last time.
“So good, baby. Don’t stop,” Ryan ordered.
Wrapping one hand around Ryan’s ass, Cliff took him again, pulling Ryan forward, groaning as the fist in his hair tightened, holding him captive until his eyes stung with the need to breathe.
“One more time,” Ryan said, only giving Cliff a moment to suck in another breath. He shoved his cock deep, his legs trembling with the effort it took to remain upright, even propped against the wall.
When he released Cliff this time, he could have sworn Ryan whispered, “Good boy,” which given he was both older and bigger, made no sense. Bobbing his mouth more quickly now, a raw noise ripped from his throat as Ryan pistoned into his mouth. Cliff’s fist flew over his own cock as he dug his fingers into the fleshy globe of Ryan’s ass, encouraging him to go faster, pound harder.
The muscles beneath his fingers grew impossibly tight as Ryan lost his rhythm and his breath rushed out in a harsh grunt. Hot cum coated his tongue and spurted down his throat, the first shot all it took to trigger his own release. They finished on gasping moans of mutual pleasure.
“Fuck, yeah,” Ryan sighed. He looped his hands under Cliff’s pits and dragged him up into a quick, hard kiss. He stroked Cliff’s dick through his wet boxers, as if he’d actually intended to do anything about it. When he found evidence of Cliff’s release, he gave a light squeeze.
“Hmm…we might need to work on your control next time.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and Cliff was painfully reminded of just how much Ryan had to drink earlier.
There wasn’t a chance in hell his best friend would forget what they’d just done, but there was very little room for doubt how this would play out. This was the beginning of the end of a friendship that meant more than any quick blow job. No fuck was worth the price he’d just paid. Cliff twisted away, mumbled a quick good night, then retreated to his room. The lock made a satisfying click as it turned.

Please include purchase links and web links where readers can find you.

Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955