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CONCORDANT

J. Rocci



The Courting Series #3




SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2017 by J. Rocci


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Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. Thank you for your support.


This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.


Contains Adult Reading Material


Discover other works by J. Rocci through the author’s official website:

http://www.jrocci.com/



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Author's Note


Josh and Garrison are two of my favorite characters to write: former Marines, one a cop, the other a lawyer, both reserved but so obviously in love. Concordant is the third short story in the Courting Series, but can be read as a stand-alone story. I originally wrote this for Torquere Press' Holiday Sips, released in December 2010. I hope you enjoy Concordant, and check out the other stories in the Courting Series:

Commitment

Cornerstone

Concur

Competition

Connections





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CONCORDANT


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"More tourists," Roby says through a yawn, nodding at a compact car going past.

Josh peers out the windshield at the retreating vehicle. "Nope, that's the Gilmans' new hybrid."

"What?" Roby frowns. "When the hell'd they get that?"

Josh shrugs. "She bought it as an early Christmas present for him, like, last week."

"Tree-hugging hippies."

"Says the man who pisses and moans when we don't recycle at the station."

Silence descends, broken only by the chatter on their police radio as they watch a few more vehicles crawl past their patrol SUV. Between the budget cuts and the shitty weather, everyone at their small Vermont station has been pulling ridiculously long shifts, trying to do more with less. At least the Chief was still sending them out in pairs rather than on lone patrols, even with the department stretched thin.

"I have no effin' clue what to get Garrison for Christmas this year," Josh finally grumbles into his coffee cup, platinum band glinting on his ring finger as a glaring reminder that he has less than two weeks left until Christmas. He needs to find something he can let Garrison open in front of the man's parents on Christmas morning.

"Don't even start with me, kid," Roby snorts, South Boston accent thick with exhaustion. "I volunteered for a double just so I ain't eatin' no frozen dinners."

"Yeah, McGucken's sister's doing that potluck thing at the firehouse, right?" Josh turns his head to glare half-heartedly at Roby. "And don't call me kid, geezer."

Roby rolls his eyes. "Sack up and buy your girl something pretty, like you do every year, and I won't. Just spare me the chick flick moment." His voice goes higher into a falsetto. "Will he love me less if I only spend half a year's salary on him?"

Josh is tired enough that he lets his amusement show on his face for once. "I'm telling Garrison you called him my 'girl' again--"

"Fuck you, bean sprout--"

"And I'm going to laugh and laugh when he puts your ass down--"

"One time! One fuckin' time, and I was shit-faced, too, so it don't count!"

"What part of 'we were Marines and he doesn't like that' didn't make it through your skull the first time?"

"Fuck, I hate you."

Josh laughs silently into his coffee cup, amusement dying off as he shifts in the passenger seat, winter uniform jacket crinkling on the leather. They're keeping the car cool in a sad attempt to stay alert even though it's freezing outside, but his fingers are going numb. He scrolls around on their dashboard computer just to restore the blood flow to his index finger.

Roby yawns like a grizzly bear then scrubs at his face, but it just leaves his mustache going in all directions and his already blotchy cheeks even redder on his pale skin.

"Your man fur's trying to escape again," Josh says, deadpan, when he looks up from the screen.

"Punk."

A pickup truck creeps past. Roby sighs and Josh glances over at him in question.

"Your old man will have my nuts," Roby says in a dire tone, "but hypothetically speakin', I might've promised to watch a certain beast for some time around a certain holiday."

Josh arches an eyebrow. "You told us you'd rather eat your revolver than dog-sit after that time Muttlee--"

Roby talks loudly over him. "You promised never to speak of that again! Never again!"

"A'ight." Josh holds up a placating hand. "How'd Garrison get dirt on you anyway?"

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Roby looks out the window. "Damn lawyers. They smell blood and it's like chum in the waters."

Josh just looks at him. Garrison is a damn good lawyer because he can read people, not just target their points of weakness.

"Fine, don't gimme that look. Ch. I might've mentioned feelin' bad that I didn't help youse guys out more last year, y'know, with your pop passing on at Christmas and all that. That bastard you married is ruthless and laid a guilt trip on me."

Unsure what to say, Josh remains silent as Roby glares at the on-coming traffic.

Josh finally settles on, "I really didn't expect you to do anything then."

"Well next time, you pick up the damn phone and call your partner before you head to another state," Roby says gruffly. "Don't make me hear it from the gossips at dispatch."

Josh shifts in his seat and sips his coffee. "Well, thanks. I guess. For whatever you've agreed to, even if you did get shanghaied into it."

Roby's smile is evil. "Oh, you won't thank me when you hear where you're going."

Josh frowns, worry creeping up his spine.

"At least this geezer ain't no man's pack mule," Roby continues, starting to cackle with unholy delight. "Where is your old man's most favorite place to shop in the world? All. Day. Long."

Oh god. That can only mean one place and, if previous experience is anything to go by, Josh is going to be miserable.

With a sigh, he slumps in his seat. Maybe he should worry more about getting himself a gift -- of the hundred-proof variety.


***


"So," Josh says as he tries to gauge Garrison's expression over the dining room table that night. He's finished demolishing his lasagna and Garrison looks pleased. "New York City."

"Someone's been talking I see," Garrison muses, setting his fork down and leaning back in his chair, toying with his wine glass. The light from the chandelier highlights the planes of his face, from his shaved head to his high cheekbones. His smoky eyes are warm as he contemplates Josh with the hint of a smile.

"To be fair, we were both sleep-deprived at the time," Josh offers with a lazy shrug.

"Mmmhmm." Garrison swirls the wine in his glass, taking a sip.

Josh sprawls in his chair, hooking his elbow on the back of the chair next to him, and fiddles with the stem of his own glass. He lets the silence drag out. They're both stubborn, patient men, and Josh isn't the one with a surprise vacation plan.

Instead, he just admires the cut of Garrison's bespoke Italian shirt, the way the shade of lavender stands in striking contrast to Garrison's dark brown skin. The top two buttons are undone, revealing the shadows of Garrison's collarbones and the sharp line of muscled shoulders, tie long discarded.

Garrison strokes the tabletop in a calculated move to draw Josh's attention to his long fingers and his wide hands. He's starting to play dirty. Josh is intrigued, but they both have above-average poker faces and if he asks outright, Garrison wins.

Muttlee, their beast of a German Shepherd, sighs heavily from his dog bed behind the couch. Moment broken, Josh glances over at Muttlee's sad face, the woeful gaze fixated on their serving tray.

Garrison follows his eyes and laughs his booming laugh that makes the dog sit up.

"You'd think we never fed him before in his life," Garrison says. Muttlee's tail thumps hard once in agreement. Josh snorts.

Sighing in contentment, Garrison stands and starts collecting the dishes. "We'll have to try that recipe with less beef next time. By the way, I was planning on making that pumpkin pie cheesecake you love for Rick and Emmanuel's party."

Josh makes a noise of agreement and follows him to the kitchen.

Before he'd met Garrison, food was just fuel to keep going, never this long, thought-out production from preparation to presentation. Eight years of being out of the Marines and happily attached to a foodie has led to the softening around his gut more than anything else. Now he jogs every morning just to keep off the pounds.

"So," Josh says again. "New York City."

Garrison chuckles ruefully as he stacks their dishes in the sink, shaking his head. "Cops and terriers. You both chase anything that runs."

"Are you planning on running somewhere?" Josh asks dryly. "Will I need to give chase?"

Garrison grins at him. "I was planning on you driving us, but if you want to give me a head start..."

"Will I need to take extra time off?" Josh finally gives in and asks. He's already pressing his luck by taking an entire week off for Christmas.

"Oh, hey, no. No frowning." Garrison tuts and pulls Josh in against his chest. "You're getting those lines on your forehead again."

Josh frowns harder but lets Garrison reel him in, the spicy scent of Garrison's aftershave soothing something deep inside him. Neither of them are small guys, but Garrison has a couple inches on him and uses it to his advantage. Josh doesn't yield completely this time, though.

"I thought a weekend getaway would be nice," Garrison murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle against Josh's neck with gentle lips. "I want you to have something better than last Christmas, and we've both been working so much lately, I feel like I've barely seen you all month."

Josh sighs and tilts his head to the side, resting his hands on Garrison's chest. "You know I hate traveling around the holidays. Boston at Christmas is bad enough, and that's to see your parents and the entire..."

"I know, babe," Garrison says, low voice sending a shiver over Josh's skin. "But think of it--"

Broad hands rub up Josh's back to caress the nape of his neck and massage over his short brown hair. Josh can't help but arch into the touch.

"Just you and me," Garrison whispers, "in a nice hotel suite for two nights, time for just the two of us before we head to my parents' house for Christmas. Maybe we can take in some sights or shopping. There'll be room service if we want and no furry beast to walk or cooking to be done, or work to call the home line."

"Hrm." Josh relaxes into Garrison's hands. "What if I don't want to go to New York?"

"Then I'll just have to convince you." A playful nip to his shoulder emphasizes Garrison's point. A hand strokes down to cup his ass pointedly.

"Pushy," Josh breathes out.

"You love when I'm bossy."

"Don't cloud the issue with facts," Josh grumbles and Garrison's laughter rumbles in his ear. He's so hard it's a relief when Garrison grabs his ass with both hands and hauls Josh in closer, their legs entwining as their cocks rub together.

"Fuck," Josh hisses. He can feel Garrison's grin against his skin. He loves when Garrison's tender, but some days, like now, he just wants to be man-handled, and he's not ashamed of that.

Picking up on Josh's compliance, Garrison kisses him deep, dirty and wet and just this side of sharp before he pulls Josh back a step by the arms and moves smoothly away. He circles around to Josh's back, pushing Josh forward to brace against the counter edge. Nimble fingers undo the button on Josh's jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly.

Josh just tenses his arms and waits to spread his legs until Garrison's pushed his jeans all the way down to his bare feet so he can step out of them. He rolls his hips back, loving the feel of Garrison's expensive slacks against his bare skin.

Broad hands push his shirt up to his arm pits, Garrison's mouth following behind on his spine, stubble scratching. Josh groans and lowers his head down onto his arms, muscles quivering.

Josh can feel when Garrison opens those soft slacks and pulls out his dick, letting the head rub against the small of Josh's back. A hand reaches over Josh's shoulder to grab the bottle of olive oil.

"You've got to be--" Josh starts to growl but breaks off in a gasp when cold oil trickles down his crack.

"Quick and messy?" Garrison asks breathlessly as he smears the oil around with his fingers and pushes a thick thumb into Josh's hole. Josh's only response is to moan loudly and work himself on Garrison's hand while Garrison chuckles at his eagerness.

For all that Josh has been tense lately and they haven't had much time for fucking, Josh feels loose and open as Garrison slicks his cock with oil and guides himself into Josh's hole. The stretch as he's filled takes Josh's breath away and he groans wordlessly, arms straining as he pushes back.

His slippery hands gripping Josh's hips tight enough to bruise, Garrison works his way in with short jabs of his cock, each thrust going deeper, pulling at the sensitive skin of Josh's ass until he surges forward sharply and he's balls deep. It's just this side of rough and it's perfect. Josh clenches his ass tight, feeling the burn of pleasure radiating out, through his balls and his bobbing cock, up his back and down his legs.

Garrison doesn't bother reaching around, he just slams into Josh again and again, lifting Josh's hips with every thrust, working Josh's ass. When he hits Josh's prostate hard, it's enough to send Josh over the edge, dick untouched.

Josh hears the splatter of come on the floor, the harsh gasps of Garrison's breathing with each pump of his hips, and he feels fucked out after a long day. He leans forward to rest his weight on his elbows and lets Garrison use his ass, groaning again when Garrison shoves in deep and comes with several short thrusts, mouth open against the back of Josh's neck.

Bracing his legs, Josh takes all of Garrison's weight when the man slumps over his back, panting hard.

"Okay," Josh says, licking dry lips. "I'm convinced. New York sounds fun."

Josh feels sore and cold and wonderful as Garrison pulls out. Garrison presses a kiss to his shoulder before stepping away and saying, "Then I rest my case."

Josh has to laugh as he turns around to watch Garrison try not to make a bigger mess of his clothes. The laugh turns to a wince as he feels a cooling trickle run down the back of his thigh.

"You'd better not use that tactic in the court room."


***


The hotel Garrison chose is modern chic, with a hipster-hunting-lodge motif that Josh blinks at while Garrison checks them in. There's leather and mahogany everywhere, and what looks like an English tavern instead of a hotel bar off to the side. A statue of a horse jockey is wearing a red Santa hat.

He's tense from driving in traffic and fighting his way to lower Manhattan, reminding himself that even a squad car with flashing lights wouldn't make driving in New York City any easier. The holiday traffic meant they didn't arrive until early evening, so Josh's stomach is rumbling, but he doesn't want to brave the streets again for food. The city is crowded with people, snow flurries are falling outside, the parking fees are ridiculous, and he's staring at silver deer antlers and a decorative arrangement of dried twigs and bark.

"We're all set," Garrison says behind him, so Josh slings their two bags over his shoulders and follows his guy to the elevator bank, frowning when a fashionable twenty-something woman gives Garrison an obvious once-over as she exits the elevator.

A couple times a year Garrison gets the urge to visit the city and Josh doesn't mind horribly, even with the holiday craziness in full swing. It makes Garrison happy, so he tries not to complain too much. That doesn't mean he likes being herded from point to point like cattle in a slaughter house all weekend, though, and putting up with all the people.

"We should go to a museum," Garrison muses, squeezing his tall frame past a young couple to get off the elevator. Everyone's wearing puffy winter coats like they're expecting a blizzard and everything in New York is tiny, cramped spaces to begin with.

"Is there a museum we haven’t gone to yet?" Josh asks, trying to keep the resignation out of his tone.

Garrison obviously hears it anyway, and gives Josh a sympathetic look over his shoulder.

"You liked the Guggenheim..." he says as he opens the door to their room.

Only because Josh had spent the time imagining himself rollerblading down all seven floors of the building's open spiral floor design. Or throwing himself over the edge of the seventh floor railing to escape.

"What about the Museum of Sex?" Garrison continues with a smirk, knowing full well neither of them would ever go there.

"Or we could just stay here," Josh suggests as he gets a glimpse of their room.

It has a half bath in the foyer, then a bar and lounge area separate from the bedroom, all decorated in dark mahogany and leather, with hardwood floors and spun glass light fixtures. He tosses their bags at the couch and closes the blinds on the skyscrapers of the Financial District out of habit.

"You think the sitting area's nice, come see the bathroom," Garrison calls out. Josh glances over the king-size bed and leather headboard on his way into the bathroom.

The doors are glass, the floor is marble, and there's a separate closet for the toilet. Best of all, around a partitioned wall is a claw foot tub and glass shower stall that can hold at least five guys their size.

"Sweet."

Garrison doesn't even try to hide his smugness as Josh fiddles with the tub and generally pokes about at all the room's décor. He gives Garrison a hopeful look.

"All right," Garrison laughs. "I'll go call room service. Why don't you try that tub out and we'll stay in tonight?"

Josh is already twisting knobs and moving towels. He wanders back out to the bedroom once to grab his toiletry bag, deciding to shave while he waits for the enormous tub to fill. Garrison is on the phone with room service and Josh hopes they have steak or at least a decent burger on the menu.

The tub is worth the wait. It's long, almost six feet, and he can sink in to his neck like he's never been able to with a bathtub before. The water is hot enough to steam and he can barely hear the sounds of the city outside. He melts, just drifting until the water goes cold.

When he finally emerges feeling more human, there's a covered tray waiting for him on the bar counter. Garrison is picking at a salad, watching the local news on the sitting area's flat screen TV.

Garrison makes a low appreciative noise when he sees Josh in just a towel, settling further into the couch and letting his legs sprawl open in a blatant invitation.

Josh hides a smirk and struts a little as he pokes at his plate. There's a thick rib eye steak, some breaded onion rings, and some green stuff to the side that he ignores. He takes his plate over to the couch.

"What'd you get?" He asks Garrison, knowing full well he's showing a distracting strip of thigh.

"Pork chops with a black cherry sauce and sweet potatoes," Garrison replies absently as his eyes stay below Josh's waist. "Damn, boy, next vacation should be the beach. You're as white as that towel."

"Because you're just checking my tan lines," Josh says dryly, digging into his steak with gusto.

"Mmmhmm." Garrison lightly runs a finger up the exposed skin, making Josh break out in goose bumps. Giving a noise of protest, Josh pointedly chews the chunk of steak in his mouth. With a rumbling chuckle, Garrison settles back and starts flipping through the TV stations, finally settling on It's A Wonderful Life.

The combination of old movie and filling dinner makes Josh sleepy, until he's slumped into Garrison's side, curling up as his towel slips away. Garrison's dressed down in a knit polo and the fabric is soft under Josh's cheek, so he nuzzles at Garrison's chest, feeling Garrison's nipple perk up as his mouth rubs against it.

"Are you trying to distract me?" Garrison asks softly, hands stroking along Josh's bare arms.

Josh knows that Garrison is so much more tactile than he is, but he tries to show that he gets it, that he wants Garrison too; that his body comes alive under Garrison's touch like a flock of birds taking flight. His heart rate picks up and suddenly he's not tired anymore.

His own hands start to stroke Garrison's chest and thigh, skimming lightly, touching everywhere except where Garrison really wants him to. Josh can see where Garrison's half-hard, and he wants to sink to his knees between Garrison's legs and suck until Garrison's coming down his throat. He licks his lips.

"C'mon," Garrison rumbles, nudging Josh until he sits up. "I want to try something new tonight."

Josh rolls to his feet, stretching his arms above his head and walking toward the bed. Garrison catches up to him, guiding him back into the bathroom with two hands on his hips. Garrison snags Josh's razor as they go past the sinks.

Intrigued, Josh arches an eyebrow and turns, walking backward as he helps Garrison strip off his shirt. The pants hit the floor with Garrison's boxer briefs.

"And what would this 'something new' be?" Josh asks as they enter the enormous shower stall.

"Just wait," Garrison says happily. He starts to mouth along the line of Josh's shoulder, the hint of stubble enough to scrape.

Josh gasps as he's pressed against the cold tile wall of the shower, the chill making his skin all the more sensitive to the nip of teeth as Garrison traces his collar bone.

"I want you to think of only me right now," Garrison murmurs, cranking on the water and setting the razor on the glass corner shelf. They're on the far side of the stall, so the stream doesn't even hit them. Josh holds Garrison close and tries to absorb his body heat.

"I'm thinking I'm pretty cold right now," Josh says.

"Are you?" Garrison laughs, all deep and throaty. He trails a hand up Josh's thigh, traces the crease of his hip and whispers in Josh's ear, "I can warm you up. All I want is for you to think only about my hands on you. Me touching you."

Josh closes his eyes, his answer more a hum.

"Only my mouth." Garrison keeps talking, voice hypnotic and hand slipping down to Josh's cock. "Only me, and my fingers, giving you what you want."

Hissing at Garrison's frustratingly light grip, Josh wants more. He wants this to be quick and dirty. He wants Garrison's mouth on his cock, warm sucking heat. He wants to be held down and fucked open and the taste of Garrison's fat cock in his mouth.

But Garrison pulls away with a chuff of amusement, keeping Josh from getting too much contact.

Frustrated, Josh opens his eyes to narrow slits and stares, hoping Garrison will get the message. Garrison just stares back, dark gaze contemplative, and reaches up, running his hand over Josh's head.

When Garrison's hand trails down to Josh's cheek, Josh turns his head slowly and kisses Garrison's palm. Garrison sucks in a sharp breath and leans forward, his mouth hovering over Josh's, waiting.

"Only you," Josh whispers against his lips.

Garrison rewards Josh with a searing kiss, lips claimed and plundered, tongue fucked until his jaw's sore. He loves every damn movement of Garrison's lips and still wants more.

Garrison pulls away and reaches for the razor. Josh quirks his eyebrow again, but relaxes against the tiles and lets Garrison position him under the shower stream. Garrison likes to shave him sometimes and Josh can admit that he likes it, the way it makes him feel -- protected. Cherished.

Lathering the expensive hotel body wash, Garrison cups Josh's balls, sliding his palm over Josh's cock, giving a good squeeze. Josh closes his eyes again with a moan.

"I bleed, you bleed," is the closest he comes to protesting, widening his stance so Garrison can have easier access.

Kneeling with a gentle snort, Garrison rolls Josh's balls absently in his hand, warming them up so the skin will be more pliant. Josh moans.

They don't say anything as Garrison slowly, carefully, drags the razor over Josh's sac. Pulling the skin taut in places, Garrison is as meticulous with this as he is with every other aspect of their life.

Josh can't help the way his breath hitches with each stroke. The sound reaches him even over the water, the little scritch that tugs so freaking lightly on his skin, just enough to make his cock twitch. He tries to hold still, to not squirm, but Garrison's fingertips are running over his balls, the base of his cock, the crease of his thigh. After the razor moves on, Josh's skin is sensitive, a little hot. The soap is just enough to keep the shaving smooth, but it still stings just enough.

He's focusing so hard on Garrison's movements that he doesn't realize Garrison's finished until another handful of cool shower gel is lathered on his balls and cock, then rinsed away. He opens his eyes in time to see Garrison suck both his balls in, the startling heat of Garrison's mouth punching Josh's breath out of his lungs.

He moans, loud and unashamed. Garrison pulls off him with a smack of his lips.

"And now you get your Christmas present early..."

Josh pants, letting the wall hold him up, and wants to protest when Garrison cranks the water off. He is perfectly fine with what they were doing right there.

Wordlessly, Garrison dries them both off and takes Josh by the hand, gently leading him to the bed. Stepping in close, Garrison murmurs in his ear, "Spread out on your back."

Josh's cock jumps at the softly spoken command. He doesn't get off on just anyone giving him orders -- that would have made the Marines and being on the force problematic -- but Garrison, with his deep sexy voice? He could ask anything of Josh and Josh would hurry to please him.

The duvet cover is slippery under Josh's hands and knees, so he moves to the middle of the bed and sprawls on his back. The position gives him the perfect view of Garrison's rounded ass bending over one of their bags.

"You," Garrison says decisively, glancing over his shoulder with smoldering eyes, "are a very difficult man to shop for. So I did some research."

Garrison stands and tosses a small bottle of lube on the bed, distracting Josh for a moment before Garrison dangles the little bit of leather and metal in front of him.

"You--" Josh swallows hard, entire body tensing with need. Oh fuck yes.

"Internet's a wonderful place," Garrison says, letting the leather drag across Josh's chest, grazing a tight nipple.

They've never really used toys with each other, and Josh never knew how to ask, but Garrison must have noticed how turned on Josh gets when he watches certain porn.

Josh doesn't say anything, just lets his legs fall open. He lets Garrison push them further apart and slip the cockring over Josh's aching dick and snap it shut. There's a leather strap that wraps around his balls and it's tight, a solid pressure without pinching. Josh lifts his hips wantonly, puts himself on display. He wants Garrison so fucking badly and this -- this is going to be perfect.

But when Garrison pops open the lube, he just pours some into his hand and looks at it thoughtfully. Josh gazes up at him, wondering where this is going to go.

After a moment, Garrison reaches down for Josh's hand, slathering Josh's fingers with the lube. When Josh's hand is good and slick, Garrison crawls up the bed, hovering over him.

"Get me ready," Garrison says in that commanding tone again. Josh can't prevent his full body shudder. The man is trying to kill him.

With his lubed hand, Josh reaches behind Garrison's balls and rubs his fingertips over Garrison's hole, sliding his middle finger into the tight entrance. With his clean hand, he pulls Garrison down into a heated kiss, reveling in the way Garrison moans into his mouth.

"More," Garrison demands.

Josh adds a second finger, scissoring them back and forth, rubbing and stretching and trying to make it good for Garrison. The man doesn't bottom often, it's just not his thing, but he's giving Josh this, offering himself and taking what he wants.

"That's good enough," Garrison finally says and Josh lets his fingers slip out reluctantly, but then Garrison lines his ass up and slides down onto Josh’s cock, so fucking tight, and Josh can't help curling up, pushing up into that burning heat that feels -- so --

Strong hands clamp on his wrists, pinning him back down to the mattress. Josh arches his back and moans and pants, pushing back against the weight on him. He squeezes his eyes shut at some point, because he has to pry them open to look up, to meet Garrison's intense dark gaze. Josh wants to come so badly it's the rage of a brushfire under his skin.

When Garrison's fully seated, his fingers still like metal bands around Josh's forearms, only then does he start to move, working himself up and down on Josh's cock, holding Josh down, using Josh to get himself off.

Josh pushes back against Garrison's grip and moans, but he's covered too completely to move much, can only strain up against Garrison, wanting to swallow the shallow grunts coming out of Garrison's mouth. All Josh can do is let Garrison ride him and realize that he would have come by now if he didn't have the cockring on.

Garrison's dark skin is glinting with sweat in the suite's dim mood lighting, his thigh muscles straining as he works himself on Josh's dick. His thick cock is right there in front of Josh and Josh wants to touch so badly --

A sudden movement from Garrison and both of Josh's hands are above his head, pinned to the mattress around the wrists with one of Garrison's hands. Josh could break the grip easily, but he doesn't want to. He bends his elbows, bring his wrists closer in so that Garrison isn't stretched as far and can push back deeper on Josh's cock.

Garrison starts stripping his own cock roughly with his free hand, pace quick and brutal. The tendons in his neck stand out in stark relief as he grunts, and Josh can't help moaning, "Fuck, that is so hot."

Garrison's come spatters across Josh's belly, up to the dip of his sternum. Josh groans again as Garrison's ass clenches around his dick so tightly it's painful.

When Garrison releases his wrists, Josh gasps like he's been waiting for Garrison's release to breathe. But Garrison slides down the bed, dick still half hard and swinging, dragging a trail of come along Josh's thigh, his knee. Garrison swipes two fingers through the white mess on Josh's stomach, rubbing it with his thumb, and then he reaches down and just--

Just shoves two fingers into Josh, burning and stretching and beautiful, as he unsnaps the cockring. Josh comes with a shout and a sob, all the air forced out of his body, hearing whited out, vision gone. It's like Garrison has reached into his guts and pulled his orgasm out of him.

Josh collapses back into the mattress, completely spent, muscles quivering. Garrison doesn't pull away; he just lies there propped up between Josh's knees, watching his fingers move in Josh's body. He crooks his fingers in Josh, still slick with his own come, and Josh gives a feverish shudder, sobbing on another breath when his dick twitches out another bead of liquid.

Josh has to cover his eyes with his arm, has to look away from the intense emotions on Garrison's face as those long fingers pump into Josh a few more times, slowly, dragging in and out with slick noises. Josh's muscles are twitching, and he feels like he's just run a ten miler in five minutes. But still Garrison's fingers are there, making him feel the burn, the fullness of them in his ass and his sore cock.

When Garrison finally pulls them out, Josh doesn't know if he's feeling relief or empty aching disappointment. But Garrison crawls back up over him, covering him with the heat and weight of his body, pushing Josh down into the mattress with his entire self as he pulls Josh's arm away from his face.

Josh knows his expression is wrecked. He feels raw and exposed and it was just-- He curls a hand around Garrison's neck, drags him down for a slow and dirty kiss, sluggish and drugged with it.

When he leans back, Garrison strokes a finger across Josh's face, his cheeks, down the sweat and the moisture from his eyes.

"Thank you," Garrison whispers in the space between them, nipping lightly at Josh's mouth.

Josh burrows his face into Garrison's neck, surrounded by the scent of them and sweat and sex, and can't speak or swallow.

"I think I should be thanking you," he finally says in a hoarse voice.

Garrison nuzzles his cheek, his neck, and ear, feather-light kisses filled with love and adoration. Josh tries to return them, but he can barely lift his head.

"Best gift ever," Josh finally says with a sleepy chuckle, giving up on moving.

Garrison laughs and kisses him again, lingering. "I think I got the best gift."

Josh frowns inquisitively, eyes drifting shut.

"I got you."


End



Since 2006, J. Rocci has published LGBT romance stories, ranging from contemporary to steampunk to fantasy. Rocci currently lives near Washington D.C. with the love of her life and their furry children, and loves giving her characters happy endings. You can find Rocci on the web at:

http://www.jrocci.com/

http://j-rocci.dreamwidth.org/

http://jrocci.blogspot.com/

http://twitter.com/JayRocci/

http://jrocci.tumblr.com/




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