Game of the Season Page 3

  Clay kept his lips zipped for a few long moments, breathing in the scent of the man he loved, the man he still couldn't believe he'd been so insanely, lavishly blessed as to receive. Hoping Seth would allow it, he slipped his hand behind Seth's back and started to rub tiny circles over the tensed-up muscles.

  Seth froze, which would have put anyone else off—it probably would have put Clay off pretty well in the early days of their relationship, wondering if he'd crossed some kind of line and sent his main squeeze screaming back toward heterosexuality. He knew Seth too well now, and kept on massaging, letting Seth know he was there.

  Finally, Seth relaxed. He exhaled a long, soft stream of breath, a goodly portion of his tension dissipating. He butted his head against Clay's. “Thanks."

  "I do what I can.” Clay, because he was Clay, tickled his way underneath Seth's sweater. Seth grunted and swatted at Clay. “Come on, you love this,” Clay teased.

  "Never should have let you know I was ticklish."

  "Aww. Killjoy."

  "Knock it off.” Seth elbowed Clay, but without malice.

  "I can be good.” The alcoholic fuzz in Clay's brain had eased into a gently tingling buzz, not enough to impair his judgment. Besides, just being near Seth was enough to get him high. He kissed Seth's throat under his ear and enjoyed the man's shudder. “I can be really, really good for you,” he added, dipping his back-tickling fingers down the rear of Seth's jeans.

  "I'm still not completely used to this."

  "I know, but you try, and that's what matters. To me, anyway.” Clay caught Seth's earlobe between his teeth and tugged lightly. He knew the guy's hot spots and he wasn't above manipulating them.

  Seth's cheeks were blooming with color, a sure and certain way of telling Clay his sneaky tactics were doing what he'd hoped they would. “Are you sure it's enough?"

  The plaintive note to the question struck home. Oh ... God. Clay kissed Seth's jaw line. “So that's what this is all about, huh?"

  His lover squirmed and tried to demur. “What, you mean the holiday season from Hell? I think we can blame that one on American commercialism."

  "Nuh-uh. You know what I meant.” Clay, happily not playing fair, cupped Seth's fine, quarter-popping tight glutes and kneaded. Ooh, but he loved the low moans that escaped Seth when he played with the man's ass. He'd taken to rear entry recreation like a duck to water; the simile had never made sense to Clay, but you went with what you knew, right?

  And something Clay knew very well was Seth's tendency to disingenuously evade uncomfortable topics. So he didn't let Seth get away with that crap.

  Seth mumbled something and looked away toward the beach, his eyes as dark and blue as the late night waters. He looked so unbelievably sexy, Clay's private copper, chiseled and beautiful all at once.

  "I love you,” he said, without meaning to just blurt it out like that. They didn't say those three little words any too often. Seth didn't know how to take them most of the time and Clay thought they should be saved for special occasions.

  If this wasn't pretty damn special, Clay didn't know what would be.

  Seth squeezed those gorgeous eyes shut. “Aw, man, now that's not cricket."

  Clay snickered. “Since when do you know anything about cricket?"

  "There's a new lady cop at the station whose fiancé is from England. He's been trying to convert us."

  "So do you think you might dress up in those stripy pants and start swinging a stick around?” Clay frowned. “That sounded a lot kinkier and a lot less stupid in my head."

  The example of classic Clay foot-in-mouth, had, he saw, touched Seth as nothing had before. “Yeah.” He tucked his hand in Clay's back pocket. “Okay. You want to know what's really bugging me?"

  Clay nodded as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind Seth's ear. “Shoot."

  Seth lifted one shoulder in a halfway shrug. “I swear I'm gonna grow ovaries just from saying this, but I kind of wanted our first Christmas together to be one to remember, okay? If you laugh at me I'll punch you in the nose, so don't."

  "Didn't plan on it.” Clay started to kiss a path from Seth's ear down to his collarbone. “There's nothing wrong with what you wanted. ‘Tis the season, right?"

  "For the first time."

  Huh? “Huh?” Clay asked, displaying his intelligence. “What do you mean?"

  "I mean...” Seth huffed and speared his fingers through his hair, undoing the loose lock that Clay had tidied away. It fell over his eye, instantly driving Clay nuts with the need to kiss underneath. “I don't know if I've ever told you this. I probably didn't. When I was growing up around Great-Aunt Eugenia, holidays were mostly fucked up."

  Clay didn't ask, merely loaning the warmth of his body and a slow stroking of his thumb right above Seth's waist.

  "We didn't have huge, insane, drunken fights. No one threw the turkey or got three bottles deep in brandy and started cursing out everyone in the room. No one showed any kind of emotion at all, y'know? Cold, that's what I remember. Silver knives and forks, a cook who really didn't want to be there, a serving maid who had to work Christmas Day to help support her kids, and presents wrapped with so many bells and whistles that the one time I tried to rip the paper off, I got my hand slapped and I was sent to my room."

  Clay winced. “That'll screw you up but good.” He pulled Seth closer. “No wonder you got out of Dodge as soon as the police academy accepted your application."

  "I just wanted to get down and dirty with real people.” Seth seemed uneasy. “Call me femme and get it over with, would you?"

  "Not on your life.” Clay let his fingers do the walking, first giving Seth's ass cheek a good hard squeeze, then pushing him with his back to the wall and thrusting his hand down the front of Seth's pants to cup his cock.

  Seth hissed, an erection sparking to slow-growing life under Clay's touch. “What are you..."

  "I'm reasonably sure you're all man,” Clay said as lightly as if he didn't have Seth's proof of gender filling his palm. He fingered the head, briefly daydreaming about how good it would taste.

  Better than fruitcake, for damn sure.

  "And,” Clay continued, leaning in to suck at the intoxicating divot at the base of Seth's throat, “do you have any idea how much I admire you?"

  "Me, the poor little rich kid?” Seth scoffed.

  "You don't live like you're rich. Technically, you're not. I seem to remember someone turning his trust fund over to the local Habitat for Humanity. Drained so much of his personal net worth that he had to find a roommate. Wonder who that could be?” Clay sucked up what would become a dark bruise on Seth's shoulder. “Oh, wait, it's you."

  "So you love me for my lack of money?” Seth laughed breathlessly. “And my cock?"

  "They're big draws, I've got to admit. But you want to know the real reason I love you?"

  Seth tilted his head in curiosity. “Actually, yeah.” He blinked. “I never did ask before, did I?"

  "I like to think I got you so horny you forgot."

  "You're getting there fast, now.” Seth thrust into Clay's hand.

  Clay counted to ten to keep himself from tackle-pouncing Seth and jumping his bones in the bitterly chilly December evening. “Good. Hold that thought. Here's why I fell in love with you: because I knew you were the kind of guy I could grow old with."

  "Ahh, Clay..."

  Clay kissed Seth's lips, a nearly chaste press of mouth to mouth save for the nip to Seth's lower lip. “C'mon inside, okay? Make me some coffee to sober me up one hundred percent and we'll just freakin’ chill for the rest of the Eve."

  Seth's lips, reddening from the bite, quirked reluctantly up. “Sounds like a plan.” He seized Clay by the front of Clay's sweater and hauled him in for a kiss.

  Clay surrendered happily, grunting in pleasure when Seth's knee insinuated itself between his and knocked them open. Sex in the wintery outdoors was suddenly starting to look like not such a bad idea. House lights weren't strong enough for anyone to catch an
eyeful in the deepening dusk.

  Lost in their kiss, he didn't notice their nearest neighbor cursing in his front yard while trying to plug two huge extension cords together.

  He did notice the giant electric kapow! and the brief, brilliant blaze of dozens of holiday lights that lit up the night before they died completely. On their way out, they took the rest of the electricity with them, swallowing the neighborhood in darkness.

  Clay pulled his mouth away from Seth's, waiting for the shouting to commence.

  Instead, Seth chortled. He wrapped Clay in a hug. “Kinda figures, huh?"

  "It does seem to be the way our luck is running tonight,” Clay admitted.

  Seth stroked Clay's back, soothing and sure. “Yeah, well, you know what? I'm bigger than this."

  "I'd say so, yeah.” Clay rolled his hips, loving the hard bump of Seth's happily unflagging hard-on.

  "Let's get inside.” Seth ground against Clay's erect cock in many happy returns. “I think it can still be a decent holiday."

  "No.” Clay patted Seth's ass. “It can be a great one. I'm in."

  Pa-Rum-Pa-Pum-Pum:

  Once inside, Seth regarded their house phone with pleasure. The LED light had blinked out along with the rest of the power. “Good,” he said, bending to unplug it to make doubly sure it wouldn't work again that night. “No interruptions."

  "I like the sound of that."

  Seth eyed his lover. “You weren't totally blitzed to begin with, were you?"

  "Nah. Most of the smell probably came from the two fingers of brandy I spilled down my shirt when I tried to avoid bumping into this huge bruiser of a guy."

  "Not Jefferson?” Seth asked, naming the massive bear who'd tried to hook up with Clay during the whole speed-dating business that eventually brought Clay and him together. Clay still went hazy-eyed over the size of the man from time to time, usually while watching leather man porn.

  "Whoa, I haven't thought about him in a while."

  "Liar."

  "A while meaning the past few days?” Clay tried. He grew serious as he cupped Seth's cheek. “I've got no reason to think about Jefferson except to wish he's having a decent holiday and that's as far as it goes. I don't need him when I have you."

  Seth's heart thumped. “Sap."

  "You wouldn't have me any other way.” Clay popped him lightly on the ass. “Think there's any hot water left? I'd like to get the bar smell off."

  "If you hurry,” Seth allowed. He smacked Clay's butt right back in turn, surprised but not at all unhappy with the thrill of lust that zinged to his groin. “I'll make coffee."

  "With what?"

  "Ingenuity. Go shower."

  Clay's grin turned coy. “Want to come with me?"

  Seth gave the notion serious consideration. Slick, wet, soapy Clay versus digging around for candles and trying to heat water over a Sterno can for the French press.

  "You know you want to,” Clay wheedled, no doubt having spotted Seth's hesitation right away. Clay could read him all too well sometimes these days. “Who knows when the power will come back on? Might be a while before we can clean up, incidentally getting dirty, and cleaning up again, and incidentally—"

  "God, you're a whore,” Seth laughed, jostling Clay.

  "Your whore.” Clay hooked his ankle around the back of Seth's. “Call it an early Christmas gift. Let's get naked and wet."

  "The last of the true romantics.” Seth gave in. Unable to resist a taste, he nipped at Clay's chin. “All right. You win."

  "Woohoo!” Clay wrapped his arms around Seth for a quick, hard hug. “Race you there? Last one naked is a bottle of peach-mango flavored off-brand lubricant?"

  Seth wrinkled his nose.

  "What? I didn't say last one naked was a rotten egg."

  "So far as taste goes, they're not that far apart.” Seth had been dismayed when he'd discovered that the scented stuff, although it smelled pretty good, had the flavor of saccharine Jell-O mixed with burned rubber, and about the same texture.

  The taste of ass au naturel was far superior.

  Ye gods, the things he'd learned since letting himself love Clay the way they both wanted. It had taken him way, way too long to figure out what he wanted.

  So he'd make up for lost time now. “How about last one naked in the shower gets to choose between blow job, hand job, fucking or getting fucked?"

  "You don't think ‘all of the above’ is an option? The way you get me ... mmm, I could go all night long.” Clay waggled his eyebrows.

  Seth snorted. “Dork. Get moving."

  "I'm serious, Seth.” Clay captured Seth's hand and molded it over his cock. Seth hissed at the touch sensation of the man's pulsing erection and fought back a spasm of pure need to yank Clay's jeans down, bend him over the couch, and fuck him blind right away.

  It didn't sound like a bad idea, actually, but thinking on his feet Seth decided he'd stick with Plan A. He wanted to see Clay beaded with water, drops running from his wet hair over his face, clinging to his lips while he sucked in Seth's cock.

  "Whoa.” The intensity of the mental image made Seth stagger.

  "I know exactly what you're thinking, you horndog.” Clay winked and turned to walk away, sashaying in a way Seth found hysterically camp and fucking hot. “You're on. Follow the Astroglide road, Toto."

  "As long as we're not on our way to Emerald City."

  "Nah. That'd just be gross."

  Seth followed close on Clay's heels. “And we can't play Dark Side of the Moon with the power out. You can't watch Wizard of Oz without Pink Floyd going at the same time."

  "I could hum it for you."

  "Thanks, but no thanks.” Clay had a great voice for radio, sure, deep and mellifluous and smooth, but when it came to singing ... nyet. Seth liked his eardrums intact.

  "We don't have mescal or peyote or even pot to make the experience truly memorable."

  "You are talking to a cop, you know."

  "Am I?” Clay cocked a hip and smirked over his shoulder at Seth. “Here I thought I was chatting up the man who I want to fuck. I'd love to have your cock balls-deep in me right now."

  "Nngh.” The shock of lust dizzied Seth. “Jesus, don't say things like that out of the blue."

  "Doesn't embarrass you, does it?"

  "No, but I think you want me to be physically able to walk to the shower.” Seth gestured at his jutting erection doing its best to drill its way out of his jeans. “And I've got my heart set on this, so shut up and keep walking.” He waved vaguely. “Walking in front of me so I can enjoy the view."

  "Anything for you, sweetheart,” Clay drawled as he obeyed.

  Seth followed, feeling for the first time in the right kind of holiday spirit.

  "Hey, can I sing if I sing ‘Jingle Balls'?"

  "Don't push your luck."

  "What are you going to do, discipline me?"

  Seth groaned. “Get in there so I can ravish you."

  "Aye, aye."

  Pa-Rum-Pa-Pum-Pum:

  Clay was starting to feel, once more, like he'd tied on one too many. This time he had nothing flooding his system but impure lust and vivid fantasies about Seth sucking him off before Seth fucked him.

  In his opinion, the dream about to become a reality trumped alcoholic self-pity every single time.

  He loved teasing Seth. It was way too much fun to waken the dominant monster inside his often bashful lover. The guy had taken to butt-sex right away, but it had taken some long and patient teaching to get him to ask for what he wanted. He had to be so worked up there'd be no turning back before he'd get all growly and start making demands.

  Clay began making devious plans. He thought he had a good grip on all of Seth's hot buttons, and he planned to push them all.

  Kink number one, the striptease. Clay swiveled as he entered their bathroom, and tucked his thumbs in his belt loops. He thrust his pelvis forward and stroked down the firmly outlined swell of his cock behind the placket. “Want to see me?” he asked softly
.

  The poleaxed look in Seth's eyes answered the question.

  "Want to see all of me?” Clay nudged. Seth had to say the words; voicing his needs still wasn't totally easy but once Seth did, all bets were off. Clay wanted to unleash that particular animal in the worst way.

  Seth nodded, licking his lips. He hadn't moved, still hovering in the door of the bathroom.

  Clay waited, knowing Seth would get the idea.

  Seth knew what he wanted. He shook his head, though Clay could tell he was amused, not annoyed. Seth had all these little tells; the man could never play poker for beans. “Strip for me,” he ordered, low and throaty. “Put on a show."

  Ooh. Better still than Clay had hoped. “So sing for me.” Teasing aside, he knew he could make small children cry when he attempted to warble a tune. Seth wasn't any Pavarotti, but he did a decent Barry White that melted Clay from socks to cock.

  Seth leaned against the doorframe and grinned in the manner of a tiger that'd spotted some tasty prey. He waved at Clay and started to croon. Weirdly, he'd chosen a song with lyrics that sounded sort of Italian.

  "Ze language of love?"

  Seth blew him a kiss and kept singing. He gestured pointedly at Clay, the message coming through loud and clear. Get on with it. But nice and slow.

  Clay shivered in anticipation. He took a moment to get familiar with the tempo, which along with the Italian lyrics made for fantastic music to fuck by, a song that said “screw seduction, we're gonna hump like rabbits". He approved of Seth's choice.

  Taking a deep breath to steady himself so he didn't go off before they'd started, he was almost that excited, Clay began. The first thing to go was his sweater, not so incidentally one of Seth's favorites, azure blue and just tight enough to show off his bod. He tugged at the hem, rolling it up over his stomach one-sixth of the six-pack at a time, stopping to finger his muscles.

  Seth gritted his teeth and devoured Clay with his eyes. Unconsciously, Clay thought, Seth palmed his own cock through his jeans, rubbing down with the heel of his hand.

  Clay approved.

  Clay raised his arms and shrugged the sweater off. He gave it a couple of spins and dropped the heavy wool to the bathroom floor where it puddled in a soft blue pile at his feet. He improvised a little Fergielicious shimmy, rocking his hips.