Good morning all! Haven't you heard that there's a new Monday? I''m terribly sorry. I'm trying to get my s**t together, but I seem to keep missing Mondays. Welcome back to part five of Like A Wolf, my version of Little Red Riding Hood. Are you hungry?
I know someone who is!
Like A Wolf
Feb 16: Damn it, he'd lost all track
of time.
Writing his phone number on the whiteboard
next to Hank’s fridge was pushy. Robert hadn’t done it easily, he’d stood with
that purple marker in his hand, reading a three item shopping list over and
over, trying to build his courage. Beef bones, cinnamon sticks, barley…
555-1789. Call Me. RR.
Robert wasn’t used to pursuing men. He’d
dated a few, but they usually asked him out. He’d already made a bold first
step, but that had been at Grandmere’s urging. Did he have the courage to
pursue Hank Wolf? His beating heart and sweaty palms said no.
Grandmere. What would she say? She’s say
go for it.
The memory of his octogenarian grandmother
announcing that Hank was hot made him smile and gave him the strength to add
his name and number to the board, directly under cinnamon sticks, barley and
beef bones.
Once he’d added his name, he had to turn
his back on the board. Those purple letters and numbers embarrassed him, chided
him for b oldness and teased him with the impropriety of the things he wanted
to do with Hank. He could no more stand in Hank’s pristine white and steel
kitchen and look at that… practically a proposition, undeniably a plea for Hank
to fuck him, than he could watch porn with his grandmother in the next room.
Fortunately the coffee maker signaled that
freedom was within sight before regret could overpower desire and the message
got erased.
After sleeping next to Hank- who’d been a
regrettably perfect gentleman, Robby couldn’t imagine driving off and not
seeing him again. He’d been attracted physically to Hank from the start, but
last night… They’d had fun. Hank danced, which surprised Robby in and of itself,
with a spare grace that drew the eyes of many other men. But His attention had
never wandered. His eyes stayed on Robert, his hands caressed through clothes,
this breath grew warm and moist when the dance brought them closer together.
Damn it, they’d lost all track of time. They laughed, drank… enough to give
Robby a few doubts about driving home, and all the while he never had the
feeling that Hank wanted to be anywhere else, doing anything, or anyone, else.
Being the object of that intensity… It had
been as intoxicating as the alcohol they consumed. Robert hadn’t wanted to say
good-bye.
He hadn’t had to. That morning, Hank had
driven him to the restaurant on his way to the farmer’s market, and come in for
coffee, which had turned into an omelet, cooked of course, by Robert himself.
After eating the meal with unrestrained, sensual pleasure, Hank had left and
headed to the farmer’s market.
For the rest of the day, Robert was on
cloud nine… his feet felt like they were floating above the ground. He went
about his duties with a smile on his face and Hank’s dark eyes glinting
wickedly in his memory. In the walk-in, he studied his supplies. He needed to
come up with what Grandmere termed a “blue plate special” for dinner. What
would Hank want for dinner? What in this giant cooler full of produce could be
combined with the contents of his meat cooler to produce a meal worthy of Hank?
Slowly, he reached for something green… a basket of zucchini… a bin of
beets...the menu formed in his mind, an image of a plate full of home cooked,
down home fare that Hank would never make for himself but Robby was sure he’d
love.
And if Hank would love it, then why
wouldn’t everyone else?
He set to work in the lull between
breakfast and lunch, pickling sliced beets, sautéing mushrooms and zucchini,
keeping mind his grandmere’s admonition that a meal should have something raw,
something cooked, a starch, and a protein as well as a variety of color.
Culinary school had taught him many things, but somehow, he’d forgotten the basics
he grew up with. By the time the lunch rush began he had perfected a plate of
seared pork loin, cornbread stuffing with golden raisins,
Hank’s phone call at lunch seemed natural.
“I want to cook dinner for you.”
Grinning widely at the unconventional greeting,
Robert laughed into his cell phone. “Okay. I love your food. Aren’t you working
tonight?”
“I am. But so are you. Come to my place at
closing time. I found amazing things at the market this morning.”
Jealous. That was the clenching in his
stomach and the fading of his smile for the first time that day. He was jealous of the food? Jealous of salad
greens and vegetables from a farmer’s market? Ugh. “Like what?”
“Everything.” There was a slight quiet.
“You inspire me. I don’t know why, but when I’m with you… The creativity is
amazing. I found mushrooms and baby carrots, a fabulous vintage of local red
wine… Because of you, my food tonight is going to be amazing, and I want you to
experience it.”
His glance dropped to the rag he was using
to wipe the counter down, surprised to find it still moving. It felt like
everything else in the world had come to a halt, especially his heart, as he
absorbed the power of those words. Because of you, my food is going to be
amazing. “Wow.” His voice shook. “I’m… how can I say no after that?”
“You weren’t thinking about it, were you?”
“Not really. I wanted to see you again,
remember?”
“Then come to the house after you close
up. There’s a key under the garden gnome in the azalea bed.”
***
“No.” Robert Arched, back bowing upward,
wiggling as he settled himself more comfortably. “That feels good.”
“Good. I like it when you feel good.” He
touched again, harder, stroking the muscles beneath the skin, liking the way
Robert’s body was both soft and firm, yielding and resisting. “Did you enjoy
dinner?” What the fuck? “I--” Am not used to seeking approval. He judged the
success of his meals by the emptiness of the plates when they came back to the
kitchen, and Robert Redding had cleaned every last drop of every sauce, every
morsel of food from his plate with gluttonous joy. Just watching the man eat
had turned Hank on, made him shift in his chair and adjust himself for
comfort’s sake.
“It was wonderful.” Robert struggled,
turning over with difficulty. Hank eased
up, rising on his knees slightly to give Red more room to maneuver. “Every bite
of it seemed…” His creamy skin flushed and his gaze darted to the side. “To
seduce me. To lead to this moment.”
“That’s what I hoped for.” It felt like a
confession. It should have been a seductive nothing… the sort of thing you
whisper into someone’s ear in order to get into their pants. But Red had shed
his jeans easily enough, and given that they were poised on the brink of …
getting off, he didn’t really need to be spouting sexy lines did he?
“You got your wish then…” Red looked up at
him, big blue eyes intense and humid, moist lips parted. His chest heaved and
his breath came rapidly. “I want you.”
Dismissing the strange intensity, the
doubts, Hank smiled. “Good. Because I want this too.” He wriggled a hand in
between their lower bodies, took Red’s cock in his hand and gave it a squeeze.
It pulsed against his fingers. Red hissed, arching. “That’s good, huh?”
“Ve-ry.” Red responded shakily, clutching
at his shoulders with one hand and grabbing for the sheets with the other.
Pretty white teeth sank into the puffy bottom lip, Red’s eyelids slid to half-mast.
Hank tugged, sliding his palm up the
smooth length, ignoring the throb of his own cock, the rapid beat of blood in
his temples. “Is that how you like it? I want to please you.”
Red’s face showed clearly the struggle of
comprehension, his lashes fluttering as he forced them wide. “Huh? I… ohhh.”
His efforts to speak collapsed into a moan as Hank stroked him again.
The hand clawing at the blankets released,
grabbed at Hank’s hip. “More. Come…” Red twisted, Hank stroked him some more,
“God. Stop. Please. I… want…” He sagged down onto the sheets, gazing up at Hank
with dazed, pleading eyes.
“You want to come?” He teased, squeezing
the soft, spongy head of Red’s cock, soaking his fingers in the slick pre-cum.
“Want me to make you explode?”
“No.” The hand on his shoulder pushed, the
one on his hip squirmed between them. “I want you to come with me. I want us to
come together.”
His thighs slid apart, creating a cradle
that Hank slipped into easily. With a slight adjustment in his position, their
cocks were aligned. Hank pressed down, Red thrust up, in a parody of the
missionary position that created exquisite friction. Skin to skin, cock gliding
against cock, moisture grew, lubricating their movements.
Faster, harder, Hank ground himself
against Red. He let his eyes close, let the smell of sex and sweat overtake his
sense. This was what it was all about. Pure, sensual movement. Growing, earth
shaking pleasure. “Robert.” HIs voice caught… muscles tightened and released, a
burst of sticky wet cum soaked them both.
“Hay-ank!” Robert cried out. His voice
shook with effort, his body strained, fighting for more contact, more friction.
A flurry of movements followed, a sequence
of events that Hank couldn’t separate from the welter of emotions that surged
through him. Familiar physical pleasure… heat and tension and release that
ebbed and flowed and shook him to his core. But also, sweet, tender… ice cream
feelings that made him melt and shiver and blink in shock.
Soaking in the residue of sex, he blinked
down at the sated Robert Redding, who gazed up at him with soft, glowing eyes
and trembling lips. “That was amazing.” He whispered huskily.
Hank pried himself away before he got
stuck forever. “Yeah. Lemme get something for that.” He mumbled, waving vaguely
at their comingled semen on Red’s soft white belly. He walked… he made sure of
that, to the bathroom for a rag, but it felt more like running. His heart raced
like he’d just finished a marathon, and much as he wanted to blame it on the
physical activity he’d just engaged in… he knew it was more like panic.
He breathed deeply, trying to get it under
control, to gather some composure. For christ sake, they hadn’t even… Hank
turned the water taps to hot, full blast and plunged a terry cloth rag into the
stream. The pain of the hot water was the distraction he needed. He managed to
keep his attention grimly focused on cleaning himself up by sheer dint of will
power. Get cleaned up. Get Robert Redding out of the house… And grab a pad of
paper because the ideas…
He could almost taste a salty sweet ice
cream cake with dark raspberry brownies and a rich whiskey sauce… Glazed
carrots…
Damn. “What are you doing to me Robert
Redding?” He whispered to the man in the mirror, who looked as remarkably calm
for a man whose insides were in turmoil.
From the front of the house a door
slammed. Hank’s head jerked, the man in the mirror gave him a shocked glance.
“Honey, I’m home.” A deep voice called
out, in an atrociously faked foreign accent. “Where are you? You moved the key
from under Eghard.”
TO BE CONTINUED
If you enjoyed my post, click on over to the rest of the Orgiasts and read more!
OH MY HELLACIOUS NO YOU DIDN'T!!!! AHHHH!!!! Hank Wolf has a LOVER?!?! AHHHH!!!! *crumbles into a sobbing heap* But ... but ... Robby. But ... but ... they're falling in love. *sobs* LEE BRAZIL ... YOU FIX THIS RIGHT NOW!!!
ReplyDelete