by Riley Cannon
Nick of Time
Author: Riley Cannon
Subject: B/K, Genevieve, AU; rated NC-17 for m/m loving Posted to: TS, TSXF
Feedback: Yes, on list or private at email@example.com Archive: Yes
Disclaimers/warnings: Tom Fontana and HBO own them, I'm only borrowing them for non-profit angst and smut. Warnings... Okay, this might have a teensy bit of an edgier note than usual, I'm a lousy judge of that, but most of the usual stuff is present as well. It also contains a few Hollywood clichs, the kind gleaned from watching Jackie Collins mini series. Not that I have, of course, ever done such a thing. ;) Summary: Suppose one day in the spring of 1997, Toby got behind the wheel of his expensive car and took a different route, one that did not lead to either a girl named Kathy Rockwell or a place called Oz. Suppose further that Chris, while no innocent angel, had also taken a different turn that didn't include any murders. And then suppose that fate once more goes and smacks into destiny... Dedicated to Danielle, on her natal day; supplier of endless wonderful ideas for Come in from the Rain, possessor of vast musical knowledge, unflagging supporter of the B/K boys, Red Sox fan extraordinaire, and all around really peachy person. g
Beta'd by Mav - thanks for the fabulous job.
Standing in the Nevada desert, Toby tracked a shooting star across the vast night sky, feeling that immensity but not overwhelmed by it. It was closer to a soft and quiet Zen moment, knowing he was a part of all that. That was new concept for him and he thought it was one he could come to enjoy. You never saw the sky like that back home, not all of those stars filling it up. Even back there in Vegas you didn't stop to notice. How could the Big Dipper up there hope to compete with all the bright and gaudy splendor back there in the city?
He felt the desert chill and shivered, zipping up his leather jacket. His borrowed leather jacket, black as that sky and comfortably broken in. If his teeth kept chattering, it was less to do with the crispness of the air than with the keyed up excitement of being pulled over at this road stop on the way to nowhere in particular.
Footsteps sounded behind him, boots crunching on the gravel, and heat seeped into him as a hard and solid body pressed against his back. Arms looped around his waist, lips brushed the nape of his neck and nuzzled his ear, low voice rumbling, "Didja make a wish, Toby?"
He shivered again, that voice saying his name in a way that sent a sharp thrill of pleasure straight to his groin. Those twitches of interest did not go unnoticed, long fingers stroking through his jeans. Had he made a wish? Oh, yes, he had. And as he sighed and leaned back into Chris Keller he could feel it already starting to come true.
~a week ago~
Poolside, stretched out in the sun and feeling it warming his pale skin, Toby made a face at the tall glass of ice tea at his elbow. His expression was about as sour as the slice of lemon wedged on the rim. He didn't want an ice tea, not unless it was of the Long Island variety. Promises had been made, though, and he would like to think he could keep them longer than twenty-four hours. Although he suspected that would not be one of the surer bets anyone could make in this city.
Toby sighed and got more comfortable on the lounge, smiling back and waving as Genevieve climbed out of the pool. She picked up a towel, drying her hair, hoping she had his attention. That's what the black bikini was for, daring for her if fairly modest for anyone else. It did look good on her, her figure back after three babies. He watched her dive back into the water and wondered if her bright optimism was real or for show. God knew his own was phonier than the tits on that bleached blonde over there.
Shifting around again, Toby wondered if he needed more sunscreen as he watched the woman's companion apply some more to her well-pampered flesh. She had the look of someone whose face vaguely rang a bell but he couldn't pin it down. Besides, gaze hidden by the lenses of his sunglasses, he found himself far more inclined to study her companion - her much younger and far more eye-catching companion. Toby found the tube of sunscreen and squeezed some lotion into his palm, slowly rubbing it over his throat and chest as he continued to watch the other man. Standing over there in a pair of navy blue swim trunks, tall and tan and with so much lean and muscular flesh on display, there was definitely a lot to admire.
As if sensing his stare, the handsome, aquiline profile swung his way and revealed a pair of crystal blue eyes that Toby could swear held a glint of amused interest. One might suppose being admired was only a matter of course for this man. What else to make of that slight tilt of the head, a hint of a smirk and wink sent his way? Unaccountably flustered, Toby grabbed up the magazine Gen had abandoned and tried to pretend he was fascinated by People's latest dirt on the British royals. All the while he was following the movements of the other man, absorbed with that easy grace, his attention caught by a tattoo on a beautifully toned upper arm, a Cubist crucifixion drawn in black ink.
Toby watched him stretch out beside the peroxide blonde, insanely wondering for a flash how the guy might prefer a real blond. The dark head, hair cropped short, moved closer to the woman as if whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and the jolt of jealousy Toby felt at that was even more bizarrely inexplicable. With an audible huff, he focused on the magazine, only looking up again as Genevieve joined him. He smiled at her, reminding himself the whole point of this vacation was to salvage their marriage. That was not going to happen with him wandering any further afield from the straight and narrow bridal path.
Put all the emphasis on straight, and underscore it twice.
Chris slanted a look over at the blond, sunlight glinting off the golden hair, and watched a bikini-clad brunette go over to join him. He would have pegged them for newlyweds but they looked too uncomfortable for this to be their honeymoon. She was good looking but just a shade too self-conscious about it, checking too often to make sure she had hubby's undivided attention. It made him think the hair and figure, the new bikini to show it off, toenails painted candy apple red, were all part of some Cosmo Girl makeover after ten years of marriage and two point however many kids. She was probably imagining those and a few other tricks - "How to Give Him a Blowjob He'll Never Forget" - would win back hubby's wandering eye. Chris wished her luck, but if the way hubby had been eyeballing him was anything to go by he had a hunch the deck was stacked against her.
Too bad, they'd probably made a cute couple on their wedding day, looking like they had stepped right down from the cake. Just like him and Kitty, back in the day; they hadn't even lasted long enough for one of the 2.whatever kids, though.
He sighed, stretching out in the sun, loving its heat. He turned his head, watching Ken and Barbie head back inside and scored the guy an A for effort at least, as he slung an arm around her waist. If his back and shoulders were any stiffer, though, they would have to be carved out of stone.
Really fine back and shoulders, however, and the ass shown off in pale blue trunks would also be worth writing home about.
Beside him, Amanda's voice grated, yanking him back to reality. "Christopher, why didn't you tell me what time it was?" she said, like it was him wearing the dainty gold wristwatch instead of her. "I'm missing my soap."
"Yeah, and that'd be some kinda cataclysm."
Her pale green eyes had a sharp glint as she looked at him, careful not to let it turn into a frown. Mustn't ruin the facelift, after all, the best her movie producer ex-husband's money could buy. Of course that money was also paying for him so a person might think he didn't have a lot of room for snarking. Odds were she was only trying to figure out what cataclysm meant, anyway.
As Chris gathered up her things and trailed after her back into the dimmed and air-conditioned luxury of the hotel, he found himself wishing he could roll the clock back about twenty years because even back then he must have had a few better options than this.
Caught up with all the drama going on at home - no, his mother assured him, the children were not being any trouble, well, not if you didn't count Gary holding Heidi the hamster hostage until Holly surrendered his Pokemon cards, or Harry using the walls to draw on - Toby handed the phone to Gen and finished dressing. Nothing fancy tonight, thank God, the black polo and khakis would do, and he ran a comb through his hair as he listened to Gen chattering away. He patted his stomach and sucked it in, wondering what it would take to get abs like Mr. Tall, Dark, and Yeah I'm Sexy down at the pool.
Best not to dwell on that really, he concluded and called over to Gen, "See you downstairs."
"At the slot machines?" She had her hand over the receiver, like she didn't want Victoria to know.
He nodded back at her, smiling, remembering why he had fallen in love with her for just a second there. Unable to hang onto it any longer, he forced out another smile, put on his glasses and headed out, tuning out the other people crowded into the elevator with him - although it was on the tip of his tongue to suggest the middle-aged woman, pocketbook digging into his ribs, might want to tone down the perfume a shade.
He managed to keep his mouth shut, though, and separate from the others in the casino, making his way to the slot machines, all he and Gen knew how to play. Well, he had played some poker in college but had never learned to be any good at it. For a second he stood there and toyed with the idea of venturing over into the more exotic realms of roulette or blackjack. His bank account wouldn't mind losing, but his ego might, so his brief flirtation with that walk on the wild side fizzled out and he picked out a row of safe and easy slots, an older couple just leaving with a bucketful of loot.
Picking out a machine by the scientific method of eeny, meeny, miney, moe, Toby stuck a coin in a slot, pulled the handle, and watched two cherries and a lemon come up. There was a hypnotic rhythm to the action, encouraging him to zone out, thoughts turning over and over like the tumblers in the machine, random images popping into his head, all of them connecting up in a neat and linear sequence in the depths of his psyche. Billy lingering in his office with that file on the Morganstern case, leaning over his shoulder to point out the information he'd dug up for Toby, breath hot against Toby's cheek. Arriving two hours late at the restaurant, the maitre d' telling him Genevieve had waited more than an hour before going home; the maitre d's censuring gaze letting him know that was no way to mark an anniversary; finally getting home hours later, drunk and apologetic, begging to be forgiven as Gary and Holly peeked down through the staircase railing. The police car pulling him over, the officer telling him to hold his arms out to his side, close his eyes, and touch his nose - how he hadn't even come close to managing that; being arrested and booked for DUI, unable to dispute the video taped evidence, but slapped on the wrist and only made to promise to not let it happen again. Billy handing him the aspirin, rubbing his shoulders, asking if he'd like to go grab a bite later. Everybody watching him after the second arrest, hovering, smothering, bleeding their anxiety all over him - everyone but Billy. Billy saying not to let it get him down, and how about grabbing another bite, and would Toby like to come up for a drink? Calling Angus from a bar, please come pick him up, Angus worried and disgusted at him getting sick in the car. Genevieve, tearful, betrayed, both of them shouting - Gen flinching away from him as his anger and frustration boiled over, the glass front of the china cabinet shattering under his fist, cutting him; the kids, faces frightened, huddled over on the stairs, and he never knew what else he might have done if he hadn't caught that glimpse of them. Billy ... Billy tugging him down to the sofa, Billy kneeling between his legs and opening his pants, Billy's face buried in his crotch, looking down and watching Billy suck his cock -
He shook his head to clear it and yanked himself back to the here and now, the slot machine spewing out a flood of coins, as if rewarding him for acknowledging he was a hopeless fuck up.
He sighed and scooped the coins into the plastic cup beside the machine, considering what machine to try next, reminding himself all the complimentary drinks were probably watered down anyway, wondering what was keeping Gen - and turning to see him standing there, watching ... assessing. Not Billy, oh no, so far beyond Billy's league as to be from another species altogether. Billy had been sweet and needy and eager to please, almost hero-worshipping him for reasons beyond any comprehension. And safe, safe, safe.
Him, though, standing there in tight black leather pants, and a short-sleeved white cotton shirt with hardly any of its front buttons fastened - safe was not remotely any word that sprang to mind. Exciting did, though. Hot did. Christ, I'd like to peel him out of those pants. -- yeah, that did, too.
Not to mention, why was that guy looking him over like Tobias Beecher might be his idea of a choice and tasty morsel?
"Ah," Toby nervously fiddled with the plastic cup, the coins clanking, "did you, umm, want something?"
Mouth curved in a generous smile, blue eyes glinting just the way Toby bet a tiger's would right before it snarfed its prey, the guy said, "I don't know." Those eyes ran over him, head to toe, conveying more of an erotic sizzle than Toby could ever remember feeling. He moved in closer, invading Toby's space like some force of nature that couldn't be contained, so that all Toby could see or hear or smell was him. "Whatcha got?" he purred, low, the words almost vibrating against his skin.
"Ah, I," Toby licked dry lips, torn between calling for help and going with the flow, "if you want the money--"
"I got money."
"Well--" Breath was warm against his cheek and he could barely catch his own. "What...then?"
Fingers, long, tapered, almost touched his face, that smile even more seductive, the eyes thoughtful. "You," he said, just that simply, touching him this time, index finger tapping his bottom lip, rubbing.
"Toby? Toby where are you?"
He latched onto Genevieve's voice like a lifeline. "That's my wife. I have to...to go to her."
Still smiling, still so goddamn close Toby could feel his body heat, almost feel his pulse, he said, "Somethin' stopping you ... Toby?"
He shivered despite the heat, just the way he said his name doing ... something to him, something that made the hair on his arms stand up and his belly flip over. He swallowed and pushed past him, that brief brush of their bodies electrifying him, almost running into Gen in the process.
"Toby, are you all right?" she said, giving him a worried look. "You're flushed," she said again, touching his forehead as if checking his temperature.
"I'm fine," he insisted, still breathless, still unbearably aware of the other man. "Let's get out of here, get outside for a while," he said, setting his plastic cup of coins down, taking her hand and almost dragging her towards the doors, not really feeling safe even then, out on the street with the crush of people and the lights of the Strip all around them.
*Jesus fucking Christ - what the *hell* had that been about.*
Stretched out on the bed and bored out of his mind as he surfed the tube, Chris looked over with a meager scrap of interest as Amanda flounced back into the bedroom and began pulling drawers open. "What's up?"
"Hah! Not my goddamned ex, I can tell you that," she informed him, hauling suitcases out of the closet now. "That was Arnie, he says Charlie's in the ICU, keeled over from a heart attack that he supposedly had when he was playing tennis but Arnie says it's more likely it was from fucking that little bitch whore of his!" She emphasized each point by slamming clothes and cosmetics in the suitcases.
Fortunately Chris had a scorecard by now to keep track of all the characters in Amanda's real life soap opera; Arnie was the Beverly Hills lawyer who had taken her ex, that would be Charlie, to the cleaners, when Amanda found out he was screwing his latest star - that would be the current Mrs. Sherowski. The pitiful thing was Chris had actually been really interested in that drama a little while ago, back when he was scouting it out for its Ponzi potential.
"You flyin' back to L.A.?" he said, scootching up against the piles of pillows heaped on the bed.
"Have to protect my interests," she said, stuffing another suitcase full. "My tits and ass made that man and nobody better forget it."
Chris thought he'd put money on her taking down the current Mrs. Sherowski if it came to that. "Should I pack?"
She reached over to run a hand along his leather-clad thigh, squeezing his crotch. "No, sugar, you stay right here while I go put on a show."
He pulled up a smile that he knew never betrayed one ounce of what he was really feeling as she fondled him. Sometimes he worried that he'd gotten so good at hiding what was really going on inside. Sometimes he worried that tight control was going to slip and get him into a shitload of trouble.
"And you'll stay out of trouble?" she said, squeezing again.
"Sure," he said, voice as mild as his smile. "I'll go sing in the choir."
"You do that," she said absently, going back to her packing. "Although where you're going to find a church in this town..."
He tuned her out, resting against the pillows as she finished up and swept out, already rehearsing her act. When he heard the suite's outer door slam shut, Chris slid down to lay flat on the mattress and stare up at the ceiling, frustrated at the pointlessness of his life and hating every minute of it.
So - this was it, this was what he had to look forward to for all the long years stretching out before him? Oh, yeah, there was a happy thought all right. One more Ponzi, keep ahead of the cops, trade his body for some cold, hard cash until the next con came along -- the future didn't come any brighter than that. He sighed, one arm laid over his eyes, wanting to zone out, wanting to get off the goddamn ride.
Had there been some moment in the past where he'd had other chances, when he could've walked down a whole different road? A time when he really had wanted to be something when he grew up? He couldn't remember now. And what did it matter anyway?
He sighed again and sat up, pulling on his boots. He needed to get out of here, do ... something, anything but stay here, trapped inside his head. Mostly he needed to not be here when Amanda got back because he couldn't take much more of that. First sign the bloom'd gone of the rose: when you looked at someone and wished to Christ they would just drop dead on the spot.
Well, hooking up with her had been a desperation move when the Ponzi had fallen through - fallen through because his partners in crime had left him high and dry. Not that Ronnie'd had a lot of choice, Chris admitted, an ironic smile quirking his mouth as he stepped into an elevator. He broadened the smile and put some menace in it, the older couple backing further away and the 20-something girls looking scared - but still eating him up with their eyes. Long as they all gave him some space, he didn't care. He folded his arms over his chest as the elevator headed down to the lobby, thinking about the last time he'd seen Ronnie, handcuffed and getting shoved into the backseat of a patrol car, picked up on an outstanding warrant for a robbery back east. Nothing Chris or Angie could have done to help him. And Angie - yeah, Chris was going to nurse a grudge over that for a while yet, mostly because he'd thought she had more brains than to get suckered like that. Freelance photography boy was going to make her a star? Sure, that was gonna happen. And Chris even hoped he was wrong, but the vibes he'd picked up from Marco told him the guy was just another kind of grifter and Angelique's only claim to fame was going to be getting plastered across the pages of some skin mag. What could you do when somebody'd got stardust in their eyes, though? And, fuck, maybe Angie was right and he was just a cynical bastard pissing on everyone else's parade.
Maybe if he'd had a few dreams, once upon a time, he'd be some other place, living a better life. It was pretty to think so, anyway.
The elevator stopped and he got out, aware of attracting more interested looks as he walked through the casino, amused by the looks - and a little pissed off, too. No, skintight leather pants were not what you wore if you were feeling shy and demure and didn't want to be noticed, but why couldn't anyone ever look at him and see there was more going on?
Oh, yeah, `cause there wasn't. He was always forgetting that.
And now he was here ... he still wanted to be somewhere else. None of the games interested him; gambling was for suckers, his old man had always told him, and Christ knew if there was one thing Jake Keller had been an authority on, it had been on how to part those suckers from their cash. He walked on, headed towards the doors, pulling up as he spotted Golden Boy again, over at one of the slots, stuffing in coins and pulling the handle. He lingered there, looking the guy over again, wondering what Golden Boy would look like out of the preppie uniform and into his own pair of leather pants. Or just flat out naked. Head tilted, Chris licked his lips, eyes raking him up and down, not at all sure which image he liked best.
Golden Boy turned then, spotting him and looking startled, looking ... yeah, pretty intrigued, too. "Ah, did you want something?" he said, a cute stammer in his voice that went with the scared rabbit look. What turned Chris on, though, was the glint of fire he'd seen for just a second in those light blue eyes.
Chris smiled, not masking how the blond was making him hungry, and moved in closer. "I don't know," he said. "Whatcha got?" He was close enough to sniff him, catching a whiff of aftershave, something light, just a trace of spice.
"Ah, I," Golden Boy licked his lips, swallowed, still not bolting, "if you want the money..." He offered the cup of coins he'd won from the machine.
"I got money." Some of it was even his own - more or less.
Chris leaned in closer, his breath puffing against Golden Boy's cheek. He reached out, fingers within a millimeter of touching skin. He smiled, watching those eyes get big, watching those wide, thin lips part, the pink tip of a tongue showing. "You," he said, touching him this time, index finger tapping his lower lip, rubbing it, wanting that tongue in his own mouth.
"Toby! Toby, where are you?" some woman called out and Golden Boy - Toby? - gave a start, saying, "That's my wife. I have to... to go to her."
Yeah, and Chris could see he was all fired up to do that. "Somethin' stopping you ... Toby?"
Looking scared, looking excited, Toby pushed past him, letting their bodies brush for an instant even though there was plenty of room, practically running down the pretty brunette. Chris hung back, watching wifey fuss and coo, watching Toby throw an anxious look back at him and grab her by the hand, hauling her out of there.
Chris smiled, watching them go, way too tempted to chase him down. That tiny glimpse of fire - Chris wanted to see that again, wanted to feel that fire, wanted to risk going up in flames.
He shook his head, looking around quickly, suddenly feeling too exposed, like anyone could look at him and know what he was feeling. He did push on to the doors then, filling his lungs with the hot, dry air as he got outside, the gaudy bright lights of the Strip shining all around him. He waved down a taxi, climbing into the backseat and asking the driver if EZ Riders was still in business and to take him there if it was. Slumping down in the seat as the taxi wove its way through traffic, Chris looked out the window, watching the lights, watching the people, wondering how you could feel so alone in a crowd like that.
"Toby," Genevieve squirmed uncomfortably as Toby pressed her against the wall, "someone could see."
"No one will see," he reassured her, his body still thrumming with the excitement of the encounter back there in the hotel. He rubbed against her, kissing her neck, burying a hand in her hair and trying to turn her face to him so he could kiss her mouth.
Stiff and unyielding, though, Genevieve kept her head turned away, the tension in her body increasing with every caress. When Toby ran a hand up her leg, hiking up her skirt, she whimpered - but not with pleasure. "Toby, please -- don't."
He braced both hands against the warm concrete wall, still pressed against her but hopeless defeat killing any arousal. "Gen, I'm just trying to make this work."
"By treating me like a whore?" she demanded, voice clogged with bitter tears. "Is that what you do with your whore?" she went on, betrayal and hurt in every word. "Does she make you feel good when she's on her knees in some filthy alley?"
He let out a deep breath and stepped back, fighting to keep a lid on his guilt-fueled frustration. "I thought the idea was to add some spice to our marriage."
"Maybe you'd like a lap dance, too," Gen snapped back, straightening her skirt.
"Yeah," Toby said, the agitation boiling over now, "I won't hold my breath." He ran his hands back through his hair, not sure how much longer he could keep going on with this sham, keep up this bland and polite faade. All he wanted was some passion, some fire and excitement - to feel the kind of thrill he'd gotten, cornered back there in the casino, dark blues eyes caressing him and making him feel desirable. Genevieve's eyes, hurt and resentful, only made him feel like a selfish jerk.
This wasn't going to work, he could see that with startling clarity. The only real question was which of them would be the first to admit it out loud, pronounce their marriage dead past any hope of resuscitation. Hell, his parents still hadn't done that after more than thirty years.
He walked back out to the bright lights, hearing Gen's footsteps behind him a few seconds later. "Go back to the hotel," he said, waving down a cab and holding the door for her.
"And where are you going?"
"Do you care, as long as it doesn't get in the papers?"
That got a reaction, anger heating her eyes and making her beautiful, making him want her. Making him hurt because those flashes of anger, when she was close to hating him, were the only times she was filled with life and passion now. "Do what you want to," she said, getting into the cab. "It's what you're best at. She jerked the door out of his hand, slamming it shut.
Good - Toby watched the cab's taillights disappear into the traffic, glad of her anger, her humiliation. That could be enough to force her hand, make her ready to call it quits. You know, unless he found the balls to do it himself.
He sighed, strolling along, feeling the heat, none of the neon glitter appealing to him right now. He stopped another cab and climbed in, remembering what he'd read in a guide to visiting Las Vegas, how it had appeared that certain establishments were clustered together in one area. "You know Paradise Road?"
The driver looked back at him. "Sure. Anywhere in particular?"
"Well," the driver pulled back out into the stream of traffic, "depends if you want booze and girls, or booze and guys."
Toby thought about it, thought about a hard, sculpted body and tight leather pants. "Booze and guys," he said. "Make it somewhere dark and quiet, though."
"Got just the place," the driver assured him, driving on, turning off the strip.
He walked into the club, not much too look at on the outside, but everything he wanted right now - lights turned low, ceiling fans circulating cigarette smoke, an in-house blues band playing something up tempo. Tables and booths, and a long bar, plenty of people but not crowded to the point of suffocation. Toby went up to the bar and leaned against it, ordering a beer, nodding as a bottle was set down on a napkin before him. He curled his hand around the cold glass, sliding up and down along the neck for a moment before he turned to look around some more, fighting to ignore the call of the beer, the tempting sound of bottles and glasses, liquid pouring.
His gaze traveled along the booths, back to where a pool table was set up - and he sucked in his breath as he saw him again. His back was turned, but that was hardly any deterrent to identification, not with that ass encased in smooth black leather. Toby watched him, hunger stirring in his belly as strong as the desire to drink; watched him lean over the table and make a shot, annoyed at the way others were ogling, wanting that to be his exclusive privilege.
Angry at himself, he turned back to face the bar, curling his fingers around the bottle again but still not raising it to drink. It's so easy, Tobias, just pick it up and swallow, you'll feel alllll better then. He closed his eyes, fingers gliding up and down the long neck, thumb circling the rim, something sensuous in the feel of the cold, smooth glass.
"Looks like the bottle's havin' a good time anyway," that voice purred in his ear.
Toby didn't jump. He just turned his head to look at him, to watch him take the bottle from him and raise it, put it to his lips and tip it back, the muscles in his throat moving as he swallowed. The bottle was put back down, that same tempting, teasing smile back as the band started on another song, the beat slow and sexy this time.
"C'mere," he was told, long fingers grasping his hand and tugging him out onto the small dance floor, pulling him close as they moved in time to that beat.
Oh man. Toby wrapped his arms around the other man, rubbing up and down the powerful back, unable to resist temptation as he ran a hand over that ass, feeling nothing but the smooth, warm leather. No underwear. He smiled, burrowing closer. "Aren't these hot?"
"I don't know, Toby - you tell me."
Bastard. Gorgeous, sexy bastard. Toby slid the other hand up to cup the nape of his neck, pulling at the short, dark hair. "What's your name?" He needed a name, he didn't want this to be an anonymous encounter.
"Chris," lips grazed along Toby's jaw, "Chris Keller."
Chris... He nodded, cradling the back of his head and drawing him in, kissing his mouth and tasting a trace of the beer, tasting desire as hot as his own.
"What's your name?" Golden Boy murmured, like it really mattered, and Chris soaked up the way Toby was touching him, pressed really close and with a hand cupped around the back of his neck, rubbing his hair.
"Chris," he whispered back, lips ghosting along Toby's smooth jaw. "Chris Keller," he repeated as Toby pulled him in for a kiss, slow and deep, tasting him. He opened his mouth wider, flicking his tongue against Toby's and breathing hard with the excitement of the kiss, hands buried in silky blond hair to make the it even deeper. When the need to breathe forced him to come up, he wrapped his arms tight around Toby and nuzzled into his neck as they moved to their own rhythm.
The music was hot and slow and sexy and it didn't feel like anything was letting up as the band finished their set and took a break. Chris snagged the beer bottle with one hand and Toby with the other, and tugged him along toward the back of the establishment. "Let's get some air," he said, leading him out into the courtyard.
There was a picnic table out there over by the wall, benches on either side, a patch of grass vying with the concrete, and insects buzzing around the light over the door in the hot, dry air. Toby looked around at it all, made a face at an empty condom packet dropped by the table and flicked it over into the trashcan before settling down on the bench. "Not a lot cooler out here," he said.
Chris parked his butt on the table facing him, legs braced to either side of him on the bench. "Yeah, well, you'd melt the ice in Alaska," he told him, just to see his reaction.
"Uh-huh," Toby shot him a skeptical look that said Chris was going to have to do better than that, "and does that line actually work?"
"Been known to." Chris smiled, hungry for him, wanting another kiss, and not so sure it had only been a cheesy line this time. He took another swig from the bottle, handed it over and watched Toby give it a long and serious look before tilting it back and filling his mouth. Chris barely waited for him to swallow before he swooped in for another kiss, tasting the beer still cool in his mouth, hands cradling Toby's head as the kiss got hotter, making his cock ache.
Lack of oxygen forced them apart once more and Chris sat back, retrieving the bottle for another mouthful as Toby's hands stroked along his thighs, liking the feel of the leather, liking a whole lot more than that judging by the way he scooted closer. Even so, Chris was taken by surprise as Toby bent his head and rubbed his cheek along one thigh - and a jolt of sweet, scorching pleasure went right through him as he watched Toby's tongue flick out along the leather. Who the fuck was seducing who?
"You got a thing for leather?"
Toby sat back, thinking that over. "I don't know." The way he said it, you got the feeling he was inclined to test it out and see. "I'm Tobias Beecher, by the way," he added, looking like he thought he should have mentioned that before they'd had their tongues down each other's throats, and holding out his hand.
Chris smiled and shook the hand, holding onto it afterwards. "Pleased to meet ya, Toby."
"So," Toby didn't try to extract his hand, "do you come here often?"
"Well I don't know," Chris drawled suggestively, winking, "kinda depends on how you mean that."
Toby looked puzzled for a moment and then the double entendre dawned on him and he gave Chris a huffy look. "I mean," he said with a sniff that went with the look, "do you frequent this establishment?"
"Yeah, much as I frequent any place I wind up." Chris relinquished the bottle to Toby for another drink, watching the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed the liquid on down. "My old man brought me here the first time when I was about ten."
Toby handed the bottle back and gave him a worried look. "Your dad was bringing you to a gay bar when you were ten?"
Chris laughed. "No, I think Jake mighta drawn the line at that much. It was just a biker hang out back then."
Going by his expression Toby wasn't entirely sure that was much of an improvement. "What did your mother think of you being at any kind of bar at that age?"
Chris shrugged. "Being she was dead by then, not a hell of a lot."
"Oh. I'm...sorry." Toby clearly thought he had committed a grievous faux pas, but even that wouldn't make him let go of it. "There are things called babysitters, though."
"There are," Chris agreed, amused at Toby's concerns over his younger self's welfare so long after the fact, "but Jake figured the sooner I learned the ropes, the better."
"Do I want to know what kind of ropes you're talking about?"
"Hmm," Chris leaned in, rubbed the lip of the bottle along Toby's mouth, "probably not."
"I might surprise you," Toby said, and flicked his tongue against the glass.
Chris shuddered just from watching that and imagining how that tongue would feel on his cock. "You know what?" He put the bottle down and curved both hands around Toby's head. "You just might," he finished, and went in for another kiss.
Toby pushed up into it and Chris moaned into his mouth. Square, practical hands hiked up his shirt and teased over his belly - and unsnapped his pants. His eyes opened in time to catch a delicious look of satisfaction on Toby's face, that look and the bold fingers pulling down his zipper turning him on so fucking much. He'd been right about that fire, he'd known it would be like this; this was no scared and timid rabbit, this was another hungry wolf.
And then Chris couldn't think about anything except the sharp, sweet sensation of Toby's tongue in his mouth as it flicked against the roof of his mouth, and Toby's hand in his pants, audacious fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking. Chris humped up into that touch, groaning as the blond kept up that caress, a thumb circling the head of his cock before gliding back and forth over the slit. Panting, Chris dragged his open mouth along Toby's cheek and pulled some air into his lungs. He pressed their foreheads together and gripped Toby's shoulders, tuned into nothing but the other man and those brilliant fingers, aware of only the hot, damp smoothness of Toby's back as he tugged the polo up and ran his fingers along the ridge of spine. Toby's other hand crept along the inside of his thigh and Chris moaned again, kneading Toby's back. He spread his legs wider, running his hands up into thick, silky gold hair, aching to have that blond head buried in his crotch right then and there, practically on the brink of coming from imagining that, from absorbing every teasing caress. "Oh Christ," he murmured, ready to lay back on the table and bring Toby with him. Toby flashed him a wicked smile, like he knew exactly what Chris wanted - like he wanted it just as bad. Going in for another kiss, craving that as much, Chris pushed his tongue into Toby's mouth, the friction on his cock driving him crazy. No one had made him this hot in ... in forever.
He rubbed his cheek against Toby's and nuzzled his throat - and looked over his shoulder to discover they were drawing an audience. Some other guys were over by the door, rubbing their own crotches and licking their lips, avid gazes riveted on him and Toby. "Fuck." He muttered it under his breath and put his mouth to Toby's ear. "Stop. Toby, stop," he whispered, voice urgent with the need to continue.
"What?" Toby turned his head and tried to kiss him, not moving his hand.
"We're putting on a show," Chris whispered again, watching them over there, intruding on this and coveting it for themselves.
Toby stilled then, twisting around to look for himself. "Fuckers," he growled.
"Easy, tiger." Chris held him still, feeling his muscles tense, excited by that passion. He could think of some far better ways to put it to use, however. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Still pissed off, Toby nodded after a moment and sent him a look of regret. He carefully tucked Chris back into his pants and zipped them up, giving him a pat. "Sorry."
"Just hold the thought, huh?" Chris said, flashing him a smile before he hopped down from the table and backed the gawkers off with a look. They parted like the Red Sea as he and Toby strode by, on through the bar and out to the curb. "Holding that thought?" he said as he scanned the street for a taxi and waved one over.
"Oh, yeah," Toby assured him, backing it up with a caress along his hip.
Chris laughed and turned to embrace him as the cab pulled up. "Where're we going?" he said, nuzzling the soft hair at Toby's temple. Any destination would be fine by him, as long as Toby was there.
He wrapped his arms around Toby, only wanting to hold him as tight and as long as he could.
"That's...a good question," Toby said, pressing into the fervent embrace, moved to return it. "We can't go back to the hotel."
"Sure we can," Chris murmured against his ear. "We'll just go to my room."
"Won't your friend mind?"
"Nah. She's back in L.A., left me to my own devices."
And wonderful devices they were, too, Toby thought as he nestled in just a fraction closer, his hands curving over the leather-encased ass.
A car horn sounded and the cab driver demanded, "Hey! You boys want a ride, or are you just going to stand here dancing cheek to cheek?"
Toby frowned and stepped back to give her a hard look. "Yes, we want a ride."
"Then get in `cause I'm burning gas sitting here."
"Bet she gets a lot of tips?" Chris whispered in his ear, holding the door for him.
Toby laughed and climbed in, settling back against the seat with a contented sigh as Chris sidled up beside him. He gave the driver their hotel and turned his head to look out the window, watching the street, the lights and the people, pretending he had no idea Chris was moving in on him. Moving in so close he could feel Chris' breath warm against his neck. Then lips brushed his nape, the tip of a tongue darting along his skin, and he couldn't quite smother a whimper.
"Where're you boys from?" the taxi driver - Maxine, by her ID - asked, stopped for a light.
"Back east," Chris said, undoing the buttons on Toby's polo shirt.
"Uh-huh," Toby confirmed, "back east," and he bit his lip as Chris slipped a hand inside the shirt, rubbing over his pecs, long fingers catching hold of a nipple and playing with it.
"Out here on vacation?" Maxine asked again, and Toby could have sworn she was angling the rearview mirror to get a better line on the backseat as the light changed and she drove on.
"Yeah, uh-huh," Toby managed to get out. Chris had one arm slung around him so he could caress his chest, while the other hand was getting busy in his crotch. "Chris," he hissed under his breath, turning to give him a desperate look.
"Shh," Chris breathed back, clearly enjoying himself. "That's right," he said, cupping Toby's crotch, "mixin' business and pleasure."
"What kind of business?"
"Well I'm in investments," Chris said, perfectly conversational, not at all like he was busy working Toby's zipper down.
"I'm..." Toby swallowed, exquisitely tormented by fingers stroking his nipples while the other hand was simultaneously wrapping around his cock, knowing he could not possibly achieve any sort of nonchalance. "I'm a lawyer," he managed to say, hearing the gasp in his voice and half-tempted to smack Chris.
The other man buried his face against Toby's shoulder, obviously muffling laughter.
Maxine craned her neck for a better look in the mirror. "Bet you make some good money."
"Can't complain," Chris said, studiously working his fingers to the tip of Toby's cock.
Toby sucked in a deep breath and bent his head close, his lips right against Chris' ear as he whispered, "I'm gonna get you for this."
Unchastened, Chris winked and said, "Lookin' forward to it."
Funny, so was Toby. But he thought Maxine had gotten enough of an eyeful and carefully withdrew Chris' hand from his pants. He pressed a kiss to the palm and whispered again, "That feels really good, Chris, but the rest of the world doesn't need a show. Let's keep this just for us."
Chris gave him a surprised look but didn't seem upset. Exactly the opposite, in fact. He looked like he'd just heard something he had been waiting for all his life. He shifted around so they were only sitting very close together on the seat and nudged his shoulder against Toby's, head tilted as he whispered back, "How `bout kissing? That okay?"
Toby checked to make sure Maxine was paying more attention to traffic than to he and Chris, and murmured back, "Kissing is fine." He reached for Chris' hand, giving it a squeeze. "This is good, too."
Long fingers squeezed back and Chris nodded, evidently in definite with agreement with that. He shot a look up front as if also making sure they weren't providing any vicarious entertainment, and then dipped his head to kiss the corner of Toby's mouth and then his lips, soft and lingering this time. "It's way better than good, Toby," he breathed, pressing their foreheads together.
Yeah, it was, and Toby reached over with his other hand, running his thumb along Chris' cheek and cupping the nape of his neck, content with just that. And Chris wasn't acting like this was the worst moment of his life, either. It was exhilarating, being with someone who really wanted to be there, who was just as into you, and to not have a trace of doubt in your mind about that. Being desired had to be the most powerful aphrodisiac of them all.
He was also realizing that old clich was true, about not judging a book by its cover, because something else coming in loud and clear was that there was a lot more to Chris Keller than a spectacular body and bowl-you-over sex appeal. Not, however, that those qualities were not worthy of some lingering and intensely personal admiration.
And as the taxi pulled up at the hotel entrance, Toby knew he'd be a liar if he claimed not to be excited at how close that scenario was to being played out now. You know, assuming he had the balls to make it all the way through the lobby and up to the room.
Chris gave him a worried look as they got out of the cab. "You okay there?" he said, somehow extracting a wallet from those pants and opening it up.
"Yeah, fine," Toby said, not so much lying as trying to psych himself up. What was the worst that could happen, after all? Even if Genevieve did spot them, she would only assume Chris was a drinking buddy, and any screaming hissyfit would be reserved for the privacy of their suite.
No, the worst thing that could happen was if he gave into those fears, gave into worrying what other people would think. Staying on that path was only going to destroy him, one way or another. Someday Genevieve might even be grateful for what he was about to do, since chances were good she would be a casualty of that self-destruction.
Maxine and her cab were gone and Chris was looking at him, head lowered and trying to catch his eye. "Hey, you with me, Toby?" he said, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
Toby looked at him and nodded, squaring his shoulders. "Yeah, I'm with you, Chris. Let's do this."
Chris gave him a puzzled look at that, not quite sure what to make of that comment. "O-kay."
With a soft laugh, Toby patted his arm and said, "Believe it or not, I...don't do this a lot."
"I believe you," Chris said, looking at him thoughtfully, touching his face. "You know what? I'm not sure I've ever done this," he said, and Toby had a feeling he was talking about something more than sex.
"Well, even if it is the blind leading the blind," Toby amazed himself by moving closer and resting his hands on Chris' waist, right where anyone passing by could see them, "I have a hunch we'll figure it out pretty quickly."
"I've got that same hunch," Chris said and pulled him close for a second. "Come on," he stepped back and caught one of Toby's hands, tugging him towards the doors, "let's do it," he finished with one of those 1000-watt smiles.
"Now," Toby said as they reached Chris' suite, frustrated at having had to keep his hands entirely to himself on the long, long elevator ride in that car packed with other people, "about that payback..."
Chris leaned back against the closed door, arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed over the other, a come and get me look in his eyes. "Yeah? What about it?"
Toby stepped close, his breath caressing the other man's throat while his hand rubbed over a leather-clad hip. "It starts...now," he said and ran his tongue along a tendon in the strong throat, over the Adam's apple and up under his chin. Chris pressed his head back against the door to give him even better access, and put up no resistance whatever as Toby unfolded his arms and spread them out to either side in imitation of that tattoo on his arm. Pretty sure he should be ashamed of himself for any such kinky thought, Toby indulged more sinful impulses, working Chris' shirt open hands exploring that beautiful chest, fingers catching at a nipple and stroking it until Chris moaned. Toby wanted to hear that again, louder, and bent his head to lave the little knot of sensitive flesh with tongue, again and again until Chris worked one hand free and buried it in Toby's hair, dragging his head up for a ferocious kiss. Toby opened his mouth wide, his own hands curved around Chris' head now, fingers pressed into his scalp as Chris' tongue fucked his mouth.
"Oh Jesus Christ..." Chris gasped out, dragging his open mouth along Toby's cheek and just holding onto him for support.
Toby chuckled, just as breathless, and ran his hand up along that tattoo. He didn't know if what was happening between them was sacred or profane but -- damn -- it felt good to just let go.
He nuzzled Chris' temple, kissed him there. "There a bed around here?"
That was good because every brush of his lips along Chris' skin, every slow caress of the other man's fingers along his face, was making him really weak in the knees.
Not even about to try and guess what was coming next, Chris led the way into the bedroom, only certain this was the best ride of his life.
"Nice bed," Toby said, looking around. "Get on it."
Chris raised an eyebrow and smirked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"All the way," Toby insisted, straddling his hips when Chris complied.
"So - you haven't done this a lot?"
"Mmmmm," Toby leaned down and kissed his mouth, "no - but I have a really vivid imagination."
"I'll bet you do," Chris said and ran his hands along the strong, lean thighs enclosing him.
Toby nuzzled his chin and licked the hollow of his throat, one square hand splayed over a swell of pectoral muscle, rubbing a nipple. "What's your favorite fantasy, Chris?" he whispered, raising up to look at him.
Erotic images flashed through his head and vanished, leaving only one, and Chris rolled his head to look over at the dresser, afraid to let Toby see it.
"Chris," Toby cupped the side of his face and turned him back, watching him, searching his eyes, "tell me."
"It's stupid," he said, trying to locate one of those other fantasies, one Toby could actually fulfill.
"I bet it's not," Toby said, voice as soft as the look in his eyes, the back of his fingers running along Chris' face. "Tell me."
And Chris looked up at him, knowing he was a fucking idiot, but... "It's one where I...where I meet someone and fall in love," he said, voice dropped to its lowest volume, even quieter than when he went to confession. He wasn't surprised at the silence from Toby. What the hell could anyone say to that, after all? Even so, he couldn't help risking a glance at him, to see how he'd taken it, and then Chris wasn't sure what to make of what he saw.
Toby was giving a thoughtful look, eyes a little sad but with a spark of a smile in them at the same time. "That...sounds like a good fantasy," he said at last.
Chris shrugged, looking over at the dresser again.
"Maybe," Toby went on, and Chris felt those sweet lips touch the corner of his mouth and then graze over his lips, "it'll come true."
As much as Chris knew he was an idiot to hear any kind of promise in those words, that awareness wasn't enough to keep them from setting off a tiny flutter of anticipation in his stomach. Of course ... that could have had something to do with the way Toby was kissing him, too, long and slow and deep, the kind of kisses that could turn your bones to jello.
"Ohhh... Jesus, Toby..." Chris groaned as Toby rubbed against him, pressing their groins together. "You're gonna kill me, baby," he murmured, loving the delicious agony as Toby humped him again.
And there was that chuckle again, not quite manic, but way too sexy to ever be entirely innocent. "Well, we don't want that," Toby said and moved back off the bed. He ran his hand along Chris' left leg and raised it off the mattress, pulling off his boot and sock and tossing them over his shoulder, repeating the ritual with the right leg, and then taking a moment to strip his own feet bare.
Sprawled back on the bed, both of them still otherwise clothed, Chris raised up on his elbows and whimpered in sheer anticipation as Toby's arms hooked under his thighs and dragged him nearer the edge of the bed before he went to his knees and reached for the snap, and then the zipper, tugging it down slowly, slowly, and then parting the leather and freeing his cock. Chris watched those blunt fingers wrap around it, getting a good grip, and licked his lips at the look Toby shot him - hungry and devilish and so hot his cock was already rock hard. He caught his breath, chest heaving, as he watched that blond head bend toward his cock, that amazing tongue flicking out and along the shaft, slow and soft licks around the head, right before Toby opened wide and took him all the way down, until Toby's head was buried in his crotch.
His breath left him on a loud groan and he sank down on the soft mattress, chest rising and falling as he tried in vain to catch it again. Toby's bobbing head kept time with him, tongue and lips working magic, as if Chris' enthusiasm was spurring him on. Not at all inclined to dampen that ardor, Chris reached down to stroke Toby's hair, hips thrusting to meet Toby's mouth as the blond head moved up and down the hard length of him. "Ohh, fuck, Toby...," he bit his lips and licked them, "that's good, that's good..." He closed his eyes and moaned how good it was, Toby sucking him off like Chris' cock in his mouth was a dream come true. Only ... he moaned again, one hand pressing Toby's head into his crotch, the other rubbing over his chest, totally addicted to Toby's mouth ... only he didn't want this first time to be over too soon, and he wanted his own taste of that dream.
Fingers threaded through Toby's hair, he tugged, gentle at first but then with a firmer insistence as the other man stubbornly stuck to his pleasurable task. "Toby," Chris got more air in his lungs, raising his head to watch him, "Toby, come here." He tugged again, and then almost wished he hadn't because this was even worse, Toby's eyes flashing him that wicked look, eyes bright with how much he was enjoying this -- especially this part, as he oh so slowly dragged his mouth up Chris' cock, tongue stroking all the way. Chris had to throw an arm over his eyes, not able to bear the combination of watching Toby licking so hungrily around the crown of his cock and those light blue eyes watching his devastation with such impish joy in the act.
Really glad to know he wasn't the only one having the time of his life here, Chris sank back as the mattress shifted and Toby crawled over him, welcoming the heavy warmth of him. He curved both hands around Toby's head and drew his face down, kissing the daylights out of that decadent, glorious mouth.
"Having a good time?" he whispered when he had gotten enough of that - enough when he knew he could kiss that mouth anytime he wanted.
Toby looked down at him, the answer lighting up his eyes and in his smile. "Fuck yes I am," he murmured back. Evidently he needed more kissing right then because he worked a hand under Chris' head, fingers digging into the short hair as he held him there for a long, long kiss that started with Toby nibbling along his lower lip and ended with Toby's tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth, both of them breathing raggedly.
"Know what'd be good now?" Chris said, still breathless.
"Oxygen?" Toby said, in no better shape.
Chris grinned, not quite able to laugh. "Besides that."
Toby sat up, straddling him again. "What?"
"Getting bare assed naked," Chris told him, wanting to see him, needing to see him. And he added, "You first," to see how he'd take it, and because he really meant it.
Toby gave him a look of endearing shyness that didn't seem so incongruous under the circumstances, not when Chris had a feeling Toby'd meant it about this mostly happening in his imagination up to now. "That...sounds good," he said, and Chris didn't doubt that was sincere as well, what with how those light blue eyes were eating him up, already stripping him, "but maybe you should go first."
"Nuh-uh," Chris smiled at him, letting the hunger show. "Show me what ya got, Toby," he added, gaze dropping to his lips, his chest, and his crotch, fingertips dancing over the tell-tale bulge there.
Sucking in a deep breath at that touch, at the challenge, Toby climbed off the bed, looking so unsure of himself now that Chris wanted to pull him close and tell him it was okay, they could turn out the lights and finish in the dark. Some other instinct told him to hold his horses, though, just let Toby have a chance to get used to it. That's how wifey did it, he'd bet; lights out, hurry up and get it over with. And then the frigid bitch probably complained to her girlfriends how she never had an orgasm.
Well Toby was getting one tonight - and maybe it wouldn't be only one night.
Chris tried to push that thought aside, wanting to concentrate on the moment he had. The rest would happen ... or it wouldn't.
"That's it," he said, and whistled as Toby finally tugged his shirt up just a ways, baring some midriff, "show me some skin." He laughed at the huffy look from the other man - but the shirt went higher, Toby starting to get in the spirit of things, flashing his nipples before pulling the polo down again and looking self-conscious.
"I really wish you'd go first," he said, the bottom of the shirt bunched up in his hands.
With a sigh, Chris tucked himself back into the leather pants before he slid off the bed, bare feet sinking into the luxurious carpet. "How about this?" he said, coming close. "We do it together."
Toby looked at him, nodded. "That might work."
"Ya think?" Chris flashed him a grin and then some skin, undoing the snap and zipper once more, just enough for Toby to glimpse his pubic hair. "Your turn," he said, helping out by reaching over to unbuckle his belt for him.
"God, I'm a dork," Toby muttered under his breath, fingers fumbling awkwardly at his zipper.
Chris tipped his chin up and kissed him. "No, you're not. Here," he caught Toby's hand, guiding him through it. "Like that, slow and easy, make my mouth water for more," he murmured, his fingers touching underwear and insinuating themselves under the waistband until coarse, curly pubic hair tickled the pads. Mouth against Toby's ear, voice pitched to its most seductive timbre, he told him, "Come on, baby, I want to see everything, every sexy square inch of you, and I wanna know you in the dark `cause I've mapped every inch with my fingers and tongue."
Toby sighed, groaning as Chris' tongue lashed against his ear. "I bet you say that to all the boys," he said, voice soft, something underneath the humor that made Chris hurt.
Chris' hands framed his face, looking into his eyes, feeling like he was falling into them. "Maybe," he admitted, "but I never meant it before." And he could feel the truth of that with a certainty that almost scared him. He was investing too much, too soon - and wild horses couldn't make him stop.
Toby looked back at him, searching his eyes, and coming in for another kiss. "Like this?" he said, breaking the kiss and stepping back, whipping the shirt off over his head and flinging it away.
"Well," Chris took in the broad shoulders and prominent collarbones, "you might want to refine your technique if you ever take it up professionally, but," he smiled and ran his fingers over those beautiful bones, "it's definitely thumb's up from me."
Toby's gaze boldly dropped to his crotch. "Just your thumb?" he said.
"Mmmm - no, not just my thumb," Chris assured him, dipping his head to flick his tongue along those bones and give the hollow of his throat a long, lazy lick.
"Couldn't we get naked faster?"
Chris chuckled against his throat. "Yeah, I think that's doable," he agreed, taking a moment to kiss his mouth again before dropping to his knees in the soft, lush carpet, yanking Toby's pants and boxers down to his ankles, mouth truly watering at the sight of the big, beautiful cock bouncing in front of him. One hand gripping Toby's hips, fingers digging into the firm muscle, the other grasped that cock, gliding along it, thumb circling the wet tip as he appreciated the beauty of it, loving the way it felt in his hand - loving even more the feel of it in his mouth as he took it deep, until his nose was buried in that rust-colored thatch of hair. Oh, yeah, -- the musky smell of Toby, the salty taste as his tongue worked over the slit, how alive Toby's cock felt -- this was very doable.
....to be continued...