Checking It Twice, page 10
There was a moment when my libido was totally on board with sex in the hot springs. And if not for the list of rules that we’d read when coming into the small lodge, I very well might have lifted him out of that water and taken his cock down my throat. But the rules were right by the registration book that we had signed.
“I think this is a massive PDA,” I panted, nibbling my way down his chin to his throat, my hands roaming his sides and back.
“I like massive PDAs,” he groaned, rocking forward. His dick was so hard, hot, and heavy resting beside mine. Fuck, but I needed to get my hands on him.
“Let’s have some strawberries,” I grunted, digging down deep to find the last tattered strands of my self-restraint.
He made a sound not unlike the one Zach makes when I tell him to go to bed. “Are you kidding me? You want food?” He sat back, his fingertips resting on my wet shoulders.
“It’s either fruit or I bend you over the rocks.”
“Over the rocks sounds good to me.”
God he was temptation personified. “Do not tempt me. I want you badly, but this isn’t where I want to make love to you for the first time.” Taking his chin in hand, the water from my fingers coursed down his whiskery neck. “I want that to be as special as it can be. With no cameras or inn employees watching.”
“Ugh, fine, your logical and moving argument has won me over. But the next time I sit on your lap, I expect a dynamic dicking.” He stole a fast, hot kiss and then, sadly, eased himself off my thighs. His cock tented the front of his trunks when he dashed to fetch the strawberries from the bench. They were more than halfway frozen but quickly thawed when held over the steamy surface of the springs. I adjusted my aching cock, then opened my mouth to let Wat place a fat berry between my teeth.
“Mm, holy shit, that is delicious,” I mumbled around a whole berry.
“So good.” He dropped the stem into the box and bit into one. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Damn, the berries are perfectly ripe. I wonder what happened to the guys who were getting married. Did someone jilt the other? Or did they both decide they didn’t know each other well enough or weren’t compatible?”
I shrugged and swallowed the berry. The tang of the fruit and the sweetness of the chocolate lingered on my tongue. I took a sip of champagne and decided that the treats were tasty, but the taste of Watley was far sweeter than any fruit, candy, or effervescent drink.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t want to ask. Colleen probably knows. She knows all.” I leaned back against the warm rocks. Watley bobbed his head and then situated himself against my side. “Better to find out before the vows than after.”
“Preach,” he replied and fed me another berry. “They say second time is the charm.” He winked at me before emptying his flute. I reached back to find the bottle and refilled our glasses as our gazes held.
“I think that’s the third time is the charm,” I gently corrected.
“For some people. For us, it would be second.” He took a sip of his champagne, his attention resting fully on me. My eyes flared. “Not that I’m asking you to marry me!” My heart was thudding so hard in my breast that I could barely hear him talking. “I mean, we just kissed a few times. What if we’re sexually incompatible?”
“Do you honestly think we would be?”
“No, but it had to be said. To say anything otherwise would be grossly immature.”
“Right. Yes. Grossly immature and irresponsible,” I weakly agreed.
“Yep. Grossly. People don’t get married on a whim.”
“Nope, that would be stupid and impulsive. We’re too old to act that irrationally.”
Damn it. What a damn pity we were too old to be reckless. If only we were twenty and knew what we knew at fifty…
Chapter Thirteen
The day after Christmas dawned brightly, the sun shining on a schedule of activities that would take us until February to complete. Colleen, bless her heart, had been one busy bee.
During breakfast, she laid out the day planner she had purchased at the inn’s little shop for seventy-five percent off. When her husband had asked why she needed a day planner for the year when there were only several days left in said year, he was told to hush.
She’d penciled in fun times for the boys all the way to New Year’s Day. As much fun as we were having here, and as wonderful as the discovery that Watley felt for me as I did for him, I was not looking forward to being here until next year. Obviously, I had a job that would require me back on campus by the middle of January, as sports waited for no man or avalanche. The saving grace of being on winter break did not escape Wat or me. This way, we didn’t have the dean up our ass or have to burn vacation days. Not that I recommended being snowed in as a way to spend your vacation, but so far it wasn’t half bad.
So the busy day started with arts and crafts blocks. We gathered in the big scout lodge and broke out all the glitter, glue, popsicle sticks, and other crafty items the scouts had stowed away. Reimbursement to both scouting groups was priority number one as soon as I got back home and could cut a check. We broke into small groups with our glue and sticks and then decided on what we would try to create.
My table had me, Zach, Adam, and a few players from other teams. We were creating Avengers Tower. That had been my suggestion. I realized as soon as we started that I might have bitten off more than I could chew, but in for a penny, as they say. An hour later, the kids all save Adam had meandered off to work on tiny cabins that didn’t require a degree in architecture to erect.
Adam was a precise worker, always keen to detail, sometimes to the point where it became a setback, as he would fixate on one tiny item forever. Watley was always telling the boy to simply do his best. But the perfectionist in the lad always won out. The room was filled with chatter and laughter.
“I’m not sure we need to worry about having a lounge, Adam,” I kindly pointed out for the fourth time as he struggled to create a popsicle sofa for the superheroes to chill on.
“But they had some in the movie,” he pointed out, his sight locked on his gluey fingers.
“Well, yes, but they also had lots of technology and fancy gizmos. We have sticks, glue, and magic markers.” I finished coloring in a large A with a red marker. My fingers would be rainbow colored and stuck together for days.
“They need a couch.”
Okay then. I got back to work after a good stretch and head roll. My neck popped like a bag of microwave popcorn.
“My dad’s neck makes that same sound,” Adam remarked, his gaze flitting to me, then back to the tiny bit of broken stick he was using as an arm for a rickety sofa. “You two are really alike.”
“That we are. Old and creaky.” I smiled, giving him a wink.
“Are you and my dad going to get married?” I blinked stupidly. Perhaps the glue was making me dopey, but I didn’t think school paste had any funny huffing stuff in it. “I was talking to Zach about you and my dad dating. He said if you two got married, we’d be brothers. I’m a good student and a hockey player. And my other dad is hardly around much. I think I could balance having three dads with little to no trouble.”
I had to fight back a chuckle. “Well, having three dads would be pretty awesome. Imagine all the great jokes.” That made him crack a smile. I picked up that this was a serious conversation for the boy. Glancing around the room, I saw Watley was elbow deep in glue and sticks at a far table. I wasn’t sure what they were building, but it had a terrible lean to it. Perhaps the Tower of Pisa? “But as for marriage, your dad and I are just starting out in this relationship, so we feel like we should take our time a little. Rushing into marriage isn’t a great idea.”
“Oh, I know that, but you and Dad know each other already. You’ve been friends since like the old days. Like way back in the eighties.” He laid down his sofa. Or I should say he tried. I had to help remove it from his gummy hand.
“Yep, way back in the eighties. When dinosaurs roamed the planet.”
“Well, not that old, but like back when they had those circle things on the phones.” He wiped his hands on his shirt. Watley would be thrilled when that hit the washing machine.
“Do you mean dials?” He nodded sagely. “True, we were pretty prehistoric back then. Did you know that when I was young, I’d lay in front of my stereo with a cassette player and tape the songs I liked best off an album to a cassette? We had these things called a Walkman—”
“Yeah. I know all about them from Guardians of the Galaxy.”
“Yep, that’s what we had back in the stone age. Sometimes our allowance didn’t cover the cost of an album, so we’d have to wait for the song to play on the radio.”
“That’s barbaric.”
“Totally Flintstone era.”
“So how long do you think it will be before Zach and I are brothers?” His eyes latched onto me and didn’t waver.
“Well, I’m not sure. Sometimes relationships don’t work out for a lot of reasons. But I promise that if your father and I decide to tie the knot, you and Zach will be the first to know.”
He thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, okay. That seems fair. Am I not supposed to call you Uncle Sutter anymore? If not, what should I call you?”
“How about you call me Sutter?”
“Dad won’t like that. He says using first names for adults is disrespectful. I’ll call you Mr. T.”
“I pity the fool!” He looked at me as if I’d gone around the bend. “It’s a famous line from a TV star. Mr. T? You know who he is? He was on The A-Team and in a few movies. He played Clubber Lang in Rocky 3? No? Nothing?”
“I’ve never heard of him or seen the show or the movie, but he sounds old.”
Yep. Poor Mr. T and me. Headed to the glue farm where we’d be the sticky that held together some other kid’s popsicle stick living room suite.
As I was pondering my future as a swayback glue stick, a roar went up from the kids as the lights all flashed on. The pings of a thousand incoming messages on everyone’s phones filled the room. Most of the crafting stalled for a while as we all touched base with the folks back home and caught up with the world. After I cleared my emails, I looked around the room. The players were, incredibly, not on their phones now. They were back at their projects without being forced to put down the technology by an adult. Well, imagine that. I turned off my phone and shoved it back into my pocket. I cleared my throat softly. Adam glanced up at me. He had paste dried on his cheek and wore the same look of concentration that Watley always had when he was focused.
“So, how about you finish the sofa and I work on a bar big enough for Hulk?”
His messy face broke into a big grin. “Cool. Thanks, Uncle Sutter. I mean, Mr. T.”
“Maybe we’ll just go with Sutter. I’ll talk to your dad. I don’t have enough jewelry or muscles to be called Mr. T.” His thin eyebrows beetled. “Google him. One big green bar coming up. Shall we have ale on tap for the Asgardian?”
“Yeah!”
And so that was how we ended up with a sofa, a bar, and several barstools that I doubted would hold a housefly, let alone Hulk. The tower never grew past the ground floor, but that lounge was all kinds of funky fresh, let me tell you.
Chapter Fourteen
“Are you sure? I mean, while we appreciate it, Colleen, all the boys sleeping over is going to mean little sleep.”
Colleen gave me a soft shove toward the door of the big cabin. Watley was already outside, coat up around his ears, with a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“It’s fine. Mark, Kurt, and I will sleep in shifts. It’s all good. Now go, take the night and do something outlandishly romantic.” She kissed my cheek, then hip-checked me out into the cold, the door closing in my face.
“Damn, we should get her on the defensive line,” I muttered while rubbing my hip.
Wat chortled and draped an arm over my shoulder. “She knows all the moves. So, here we are, alone with the whole night ahead of us. Whatever will we do with ourselves?”
“Well, I thought I saw a sign in the inn for some sort of sports card swap someone was trying to set up but, alas, I have no sports trading cards to swap so I guess we’ll have to go back to our cabin and make shadow critters on the wall.”
He tugged me over, headfirst, to plant a kiss on my cold cheek. We’d not moved a foot. Probably everyone in the big cabin had their mugs smooshed into the windows, watching us act like teenagers.
“Or, we could lock the door, build a roaring fire, and spend the night making wild, passionate love to each other,” Wat suggested, his fingers lingering under my ear as his lips tasted the corner of my mouth. Despite the probable audience, things were starting to stir in my boxers.
“My shadow bunny sucks anyway.” I gave him a loud smack on the nose and grabbed his hand. Feeling young and giddy, I raced off, pulling Watley behind me, feet slipping here and there, as we raced to the vacant Blue Spruce cabin. We stumbled through the front door, giggling madly over some stupid comment Wat had made about snowy walks and worn out sneakers.
The fire was low, the cabin silent yet homey. Kids clothes were chucked over every available surface. Hockey sticks, trophies, and comic books covered the beds and the sofas. Usually I would tidy up, but instead I turned to look at Watley.
“Here we are,” he said, his voice smoky and low. “Lights?”
“No, let’s just leave it as it is. Firelight becomes you.” A soft, little sound of appreciation escaped him. Guess I still had some moves. Pfft. I had never had moves, who was I kidding? “Are we sure about this?” I waved a hand between us. “If we fall into bed tonight, it will change everything. I know people say it won’t, but it always does, and if our friendship is ruined or tarnished—”
He moved in fast, capturing my face between his chilly palms, and pressed his lips to mine. They warmed up quickly. As did the room. I opened for the soft sweep of his curious tongue, sliding my hands up under the back of his coat and sweater. He sucked in a breath.
“Sorry, cold hands,” I whispered over his lips.
“Warm heart,” he replied, leading my mouth back to his. The kiss was fire and hunger, nothing at all like the tender, awkward kisses that we’d been sharing. This one had teeth. A groan rumbled up out of him as we licked and teased, sucking on each other’s tongues and lower lips, groping madly at coats and sweaters. We parted only long enough to free ourselves from anything that barred chest-on-chest contact. I ran my fingers through the dark hairs on his chest, pinching at his nipples as I lowered my mouth to his. He palmed my ass, lining up our hard cocks with a sharp jerk that stole my breath away.
“Christ, you light me on fire,” I panted as I splayed my hands across his lower stomach. “This is…I’ve fantasized about this. Touching you in this way. Feeling you respond to me, to my touches. Shit, I feel like I’m about to come in my pants.”
“I want to suck you,” he panted, rolling his hips wantonly. I gasped as his prick ground over mine and back, time and again, until I was incapable of speech. My teeth grazed his jaw, then moved around to his ear. When I took his earlobe between my teeth, his moan sent flames licking down my spine to settle in my balls. “I want to suck you, then fuck you, then have you fuck me.”
“You’re expecting a lot of fucking and sucking from two old geezers,” I teased. He chuckled roughly, his hand slipping down between us to cup my erection. The room spun madly. I humped his hand like a randy mutt.
“We’ll take breaks. There are fruit juice boxes and snack cakes in the kitchen. We’ll be good. Sugar will keep us running.”
“Yeah, juice boxes,” I said and then my brain went on holiday. My dick was totally in charge from here on out. We kissed hungrily, our feet tangling several times as we made our way into the bedroom. The air was much cooler in here. “Fire. We should put wood on the…oh hell!”
He jacked me up against the doorframe and went to his knees, yanking on my zipper like a starved man. No sooner was my dick free, he was on it and taking me down this throat with a glorious groan of satisfaction.
“Wat, my God, that is so good. I’m going to come. It’s been so long and you look so damn beautiful down there.” The words fell out of me, my sight locked with his. Fuck, he was every fantasy I had ever allowed myself to have come to life. Puffy pink lips wrapped around my cock, his hands kneading my thighs, dark brown eyes hooded with desire unwavering as he watched me watching him. I rocked forward, then back, my hands coming to rest on his head. He pulled off with a wet smack that nearly buckled my knees. My balls ached. A string of spittle linked his bottom lip to my prick. A thick droplet appeared at the slit. Watley growled low and long and then tongued it off. “Fuck. Fuck, I am so close.”
“Let it happen. We’ll need to pop off quick. It’s been months for me.”
I wasn’t sure that I dared to tell him how long it had been since I was with a lover. Years had passed since my last date. No one could compare to Watley. Not even my wife. So how could some random dude from a dating app ever measure up? Nope, there was no sense in trying. My right hand took care of my urges.
“Okay, yeah, a quick pop off, then we catch our breath and try for round two?” I caressed his cheekbone with my thumb. “You’re so damn beautiful. Forgive me if I say that a few dozen times tonight.”
“Mm, I never get tired of hearing that. Say it all you want.” He kissed the tip of my cock, smearing the now steady stream of precum over his lips before slowly swallowing me down once more. I heard the sound of his zipper. Knowing he was now working his own cock as he sucked mine with expert pressure had my balls tightening up instantly.
“Oh shit, Wat, baby…”
That was all I managed to get out before my orgasm hit me like an enraged bison. There were no soft little sounds or cute butterflies. This completion was a rampaging thing that drove all the breath out of me when it hit. Watley coughed and sputtered. I went to pull back, but he dug his fingers into my legs, keeping me in place as I filled his mouth and throat. The sounds he made were filthy. Each groan made me shudder and pulse.
