Laura Baumbach

Brandon King wasn’t sure what woke him, but sleep had suddenly slipped away as quickly as the sweaty T-shirt and worn jeans he had tossed in the corner of the room hours ago. Now, he lay naked on his belly, senses hyperalert, his service revolver in his hand under his pillow. He almost had the gun drawn when the familiar scent of a certain aftershave tickled his nose. It was mixed with the smell of scotch, but it was still easy for him to recognize. He’d been enticed by the scent of it from the first day he met the man who wore it.

The jingle of a belt buckle and zipper sliding down made him rise up off the pillow and turn his head. Only a large, unsteady shadow could be seen by the open bedroom door, struggling out of clothing. A faint glow from the bathroom nightlight threw just enough light for Brandon to make out the buff lines of his lover, and senior partner, Phil Gates.

"Phil?"

A grunt and the thud of a shoe hitting the floor answered him.

"I thought you were ... busy tonight." Still on his stomach, he released his hold on the gun and slid it deeper under the pillow.

The movement stopped and the shadow straightened. "Well, fuck." The deep voice was harsh, rough like driftwood. It made Brandon’s cock jerk. "You want me to fucking leave?"

"No, no." Unreasonable panic squeezed his chest, like it did every time Phil said something about leaving. Brandon was always sure if the older man left, it would be for good. "I didn’t mean that. I just ... you said ... you and ..." He let it drop, reluctant to say Phil’s fiancée’s name out loud, let alone mention that Phil still had a fiancée three months into their relationship. "Forget it. I’m just ... still half asleep."

"I’ll see if can’t wake up your other half." The thud of the other shoe hit and then a heavy, hot body slid under the sheets from the foot of the bed to cover him. Sharp bites nipped his ass and moved along his spine as Phil’s weight pressed him into the mattress.

"I love your little ass, Brandy. So tight, firm, and all mine." Powerful hands kneaded his ass cheeks, almost bruising in their strength.

"Fuck you, Phil." Brandon grimaced into the pillow, but didn’t shove the hands away, his hips rising up involuntarily into the rough caress.

"Not likely, darling." Phil bit Brandon’s neck and then nuzzled his ear, teasing Brandon’s supersensitive skin along his jawline.

It sent a ripple of pleasure through his body. Brandon couldn’t help but moan. He blinked and shivered as the bedside light flicked on and Phil’s thickly muscled body stretched over his to reach the table. Phil liked to look at Brandon’s trim, nearly hairless body. It made Brandon self-conscious, but he was growing used to it.

"Fucker."

"I fully intend to be. And it’s all for you, Brandy boy."

"Stop calling me that." It was a weak, token protest.

It was met with a soft, tolerant chuckle of dismissal.

"Can’t. You’re as intoxicating as it is, babe."

Despite the hated nickname being huffed in his ear along with the pungent fumes of expensive scotch, Brandon’s cock had hardened at the other man’s first touch. His pulse rocketed and he felt his skin flush with excitement. Even that electric buzz of approaching orgasm had already started deep in his belly.

Phil was ten years older and far more experienced than Brandon. Newly promoted to detective in the LAPD Burglary Division, Brandon was still learning the ropes. Domineering and persuasive, Phil had become Brandon’s willing mentor at work.

A closeted bisexual, Phil was engaged to lawyer Susan Lista when he and Brandon became lovers, which was shortly after becoming work partners. Three months later, Phil’s engagement ring was still on Susan’s finger and his cock was still up Brandon’s ass.

Brandon knew he should break it off, but coming from a string of unsatisfying short-term affairs, he was eager for the comfort of a relationship. Phil had charmed, seduced, and overwhelmed Brandon, both at work and in the bedroom. And he still did.

He overlooked Phil’s controlling nature, preferring to think of his lover as merely a "take charge" kind of guy. After all, the man was a cop. Cops always had to have control, didn’t they? He ignored the fact that he was one, too, and took a submissive role. He also ignored the fact that he was number two in a relationship in which he desperately wanted to be the one and only.

Problem was, when Phil was with him, he made Brandon feel like he was the only one in the man’s life. Brandon sometimes had to struggle to remember the truth. Like now.

Brandon found he was constantly amazed at how much he was willing to forgive Phil. Brandon had pulled a few extra hours of duty, knowing Phil always spent Wednesday nights with Susan. His feelings bruised, like they always were any night Phil spent his free hours with Susan, he had worked late and long, leaving himself only a few hours between shifts. Now, Phil was here, wide-awake and amorous, only a few hours before they both needed to be up and at work.

An objection rolled up to Brandon’s lips, but Phil began massaging his shoulders and neck with one hand while his talented mouth and tongue explored Brandon’s ear and hairline.

"Ah, Christ. That feels great, Phil."

Phil moved the sensual assault down Brandon’s spine, leaving a trail of heated kisses and long, rough laps of his tongue. Brandon shifted to allow his cock more room, the shaft rising to full engorgement by the time Phil had slid down to taste Brandon’s ass.

A wet jab at his asshole made Brandon jerk and push back, encouraging more of the same. Phil ignored the silent request and lavished a series of licks and sucking kisses over the sensitive crease and the puckered skin around Brandon’s entrance.

Spreading his legs wider, Brandon clenched the sheets and held on. He knew once Phil started eating him out, it would be a slow, agonizingly delightful event that would leave him on the verge of coming. Phil wouldn’t stop until he had Brandon begging for more. And Brandon knew he would. Nobody rimmed like Phil did. No one made him feel the way this man did. It made all the negatives of the relationship worth overlooking most of the time. At least, at times like this.

His exhaustion fell away as his libido took over. Brandon swayed with the movement of the mattress as Phil got comfortable between his widespread legs. He grunted when thick arms slid under his thighs, drawing them up slightly. His cock was fondled and then angled down between his legs, then his groin was shoved down as Phil’s callused hands fingered his ass cheeks and pulled the tight globes open.

Cock pointing south, trapped against the sheets, Brandon felt his tightening sac resting against the base of his hard shaft, cool air reaching flesh usually untouched. Phil’s fingers walked their way closer to his wrinkled hole, exposing his entrance. Brandon could see in his mind how he must look, laid out, spread, his most private parts revealed and vulnerable. He shivered at the vision and the movement rubbed his cockhead against the sheets again, creating a spot of pre-cum wetness under it.

The first touch of Phil’s wet, stiff tongue at the top of his ass crease made Brandon gasp into the pillow. His hand brushed the butt of his gun; he moved the cold steel farther out of reach. He grunted once then pressed his lips together to shut in the cry, which wanted to escape. It wasn’t good to be this excited this quickly. Phil would only make him wait that much longer for a release if he thought he had him on the brink of orgasm this soon.

The tongue slithered up his spine a little and then disappeared between low, husky words that ghosted against his spine.

"That’s it, lover. Talk to me. Let me hear you." Phil’s tongue ran down the hot crease of Brandon’s ass and circled the dark pucker of his hole, flicking at the edges, but not pushing past them. Once the opening was wet and slick, Phil lavished more wetness on the sensitive strip of flesh between asshole and scrotum before moving to Brandon’s taut balls and trapped rod.

This time, at the touch of Phil’s tongue, Brandon swore out loud and jutted his hips up and down, seeking more.

"Fuck!"

"Not yet. But soon, baby. I need a taste of your sweet ass first."

Brandon’s balls were suddenly swallowed into what felt like a hot, wet cave, and then slowly allowed to ooze out between Phil’s lips. A puff of warm breath blew over the globes when they were released, making them crinkle and draw up tighter.

Cool wetness dripped down onto his pinned shaft. Brandon squirmed, moaning as it was licked away like icing and spread over his eager cock. Phil’s fingertips kneaded his ass, lightly touching the entrance ring of nerves and muscle. Lips caressed the smooth flesh and teased the underside of his cockhead, teeth grazing over the flared rim and tapered tip. Brandon felt Phil’s tongue explore the slit, lapping away the beads of pre-cum he knew pooled there.

"Christ, Phil." He groaned and shivered. "I need you."

"I know, baby, I know." There was a note of smugness to his tone, but the accompanying kisses and enticing caresses made it all acceptable for Brandon. "You’ll have me. Soon."

Smooth warmth enveloped his shaft’s head and any anger over Phil’s egotistic tone fled in the face of sexual bliss. Phil’s tongue, teeth, and lips lavished attention on Brandon’s tip and shaft until he was squirming on the sheets. Hungry for more than that one small spot of stimulation, he reached back and spread his own ass, hoping to entice Phil’s tongue upward. He clenched and unclenched his ass, feeling his puckered hole wink open and closed, a siren call to Phil’s obsessive desire to lick ass.

Slowly, a hot trail of sharp nips and soothing licks worked their way up his shaft and over his balls, then settled on the sensitive strip of flesh that led to his entrance. Once there, they lingered and teased, darting up to his hole then back.

"Christ, Phil. Please! You’re driving me nuts here."

"Mmmm. Nuts. Good idea." The hot breath and stiff, wet tongue moved back down to his balls. Brandon groaned in frustration and pleasure. They were sucked and kissed, jiggled and squeezed, then vacuumed into Phil’s mouth for a final bath and suckle. Phil didn’t release them until Brandon let go of his cheeks and knotted his hands in the sheets, his moans filling the bedroom.

Callused fingertips ran through the new sheen of sweat on his skin. "Anxious, Brandy? Want my tongue inside you? Up your ass? Hmmm?" Brandon felt the bed dip as Phil crawled closer. "I’m here for you, lover."

"Fuck! Come on, Phil." Brandon hated to beg, but he knew Phil liked it. It fueled the big man’s lust to inferno levels. Brandon hated pleading, but he liked Phil raging and hot, so he begged. He pushed his ass higher, into Phil’s face. "Fuck me. Please."

"Jesus, what a great ass." Brandon felt his ass cheeks kneaded, rough and bruising as Phil kissed the apple of each one. "But tongue first, lover. Cock second."

Brandon grunted and tensed as Phil’s rough, broad tongue lapped over his hole. The rhythm was slow, torturous, and so good, he couldn’t keep a moan from escaping. The lapping turned to wet, hard strokes as Phil’s tongue went from flat and lazy to stiff and penetrating. The wrinkled edges of his opening spasmed and flared as Phil stroked and thrust his way over and past them. Sudden slurping sounds filled the air as Phil sucked at the opening, wiggling his tongue in deep to stroke the hidden channel’s entrance.

Brandon buried his face in the pillow, letting his whimpers catch in his throat. He relaxed and slid his legs further apart, surrendering to the moment and Phil’s will. If he couldn’t get fucked, this was the next best thing. The laps and jabs were timed just right, pushing Brandon toward orgasm then retreating, prolonging the pleasure and heightening his need.