Friends and Lovers Page 3

  Tom’s eyes went vague, his words became incoherent, and hot, milky fluid shot from his dick, spilling over Jack’s fingers, onto his navel, up to his chest, drops even clinging to the nipple that had been waiting Jack’s attention.

  The expression on Tom’s face as he sagged bonelessly into the mattress pushed Jack higher. His balls tightened, drew up, and then he was over the edge, pulsing into the condom that was the only barrier between his friend and himself.

  “Tom! Buddy… that was… fantastic! I’ve never felt anything…” Although he was still a little short of breath, Jack couldn’t stop talking. “Jesus, babe… No wonder why you gay boys do this! It’s…”

  Tom opened his eyes, and the rest of Jack’s words caught in his throat, and his heart stuttered.

  His friend’s lashes were spiked with moisture. A single drop clung for a moment, and then spilled over to roll down his cheek.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack demanded, frantic. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “Kiss me, Jack? Please? I’ve… that’s just… Please kiss me?”

  “Sure, baby. Sure.” Jack brushed the tear away. His lips lightly grazed over Tom’s face before they settled on lips that were salty… from sweat? from tears? They parted beneath Jack’s, and a hesitant tongue stroked across the seam of his mouth.

  Jack groaned, opened his mouth, and accepted his best friend’s tongue in his mouth. Their arms tightened around each other, and they clung together as they shared their first carnal kiss.

  Gradually he felt Tom become calmer.

  “I’m too heavy for you like this,” Jack murmured as he nuzzled Tom’s fair hair.

  “Never too heavy. Ah, damn, I’m losing you.”

  Jack had been softening, and now he slipped out of Tom. He grabbed his dick before the condom could spill its contents, and sighed.

  “Guess I’d better take care of this.”

  Jack rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom, knowing without looking that Tom was watching him. He tossed the used condom into the john and flushed, then soaked a washcloth in warm water and cleaned himself up.

  Tom watched as Jack walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He could hear the toilet flushing, water running.

  He lay on his back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. His eyes felt gritty. It has to be from lack of sleep. He really hadn’t been sleeping well the past week.

  It had nothing to do with being fucked by his best friend, by the care Jack had taken with him, had shown him. It didn’t.

  Tom had fucked them all – gym bunnies, frat boys, squids and jarheads and G.I. Joes who liked to give up control. He saw to their physical well-being, but he never let them get close to him, and he’d been okay with that.

  He’d never been interested in finding out what life as a bottom might be like. He was a top, he’d always been a top, and he liked it that way.

  That had changed when he came across stories posted on the Net by Chase, a bottom who was remarkably well-adjusted. He began corresponding with him. If the man hadn’t lived 3,000 miles away, Tom would have found a way to meet him, jump his bones, and nail his ass into tomorrow.

  The stories had given Tom a hot, fascinating glimpse into how the bottom half lived, and he decided he wanted to give bottoming a try.

  None of his fellow tops would accommodate him though, and he’d wound up going to his best friend.

  To Tom’s surprise and delight, Jack, straight-as-an-arrow Jack, had agreed to his proposition, and they’d set up Friday after work as the evening the deed would be done.

  Tom thought that would settle matters for him. He’d been curious, that curiosity would be satisfied, and he could go back to what he did best: fucking the pretty boys who begged him for a taste of his cock.

  Only it didn’t turn out that way. It had hurt – well, it had been a lot of years – a lot of years – since he’d had a cock up his ass, but Jack hadn’t rushed it. And then it hadn’t hurt.

  Jack had taken good care of him, and Tom’s orgasm had been so powerful it had wrung tears from his eyes; he found himself begging Jack to kiss him.

  If one of his bottoms had done that, he’d have kicked the candy-assed punk out of his bed so fast he would have had skid marks on his ass from bouncing on the carpet.

  Tom was always in control; he’d learned the power of control and never gave it up.

  Only this night he had. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Before he could sort out his ricocheting emotions, Jack returned with a warm washcloth, and without saying a word, went to work wiping the streaks of semen from Tom’s body.

  “Thanks, buddy.” Tom yawned. He really hadn’t been sleeping well, and the emotional rollercoaster he had just been on was taking its toll. He rolled onto his stomach. “Just leave that on the nightstand and come back to bed.”

  He froze. He had just invited Jack to sleep with him?

  Jack didn’t appear to realize how earth-shattering that offer was. “In a second.” He patted Tom’s ass, and his fingers lingered for a moment. Then he disappeared into the bathroom with the washcloth.

  He always had been a tidy good ol’ boy. Well, he’d had to be. His ex-wives were too busy finding jesus or finding ways to spend his money to keep the house

  He listened as Jack returned and went around the room turning off the lamps.

  Jack got into bed beside him.

  Tom didn’t let his bottoms sleep with him. He had a very nice spare bedroom for his bottoms, and once he’d had sex with them, he would send them off to spend the night there, unless he sent them home.

  “So that’s what they’re callin’ it these days, babe?”

  “Huh?” Tom was even more confused than he had been. What was Jack talking about? And why was he calling him pet names? The pretty boys who he’d taken to his bed had never done that.

  “Listening to music? I mean once you started sucking on my toes, I didn’t hear much beyond my heart pounding. And when you started tonguing my nuts…”

  “Any complaints, buddy?”

  “You know I have none. What… er… what about you?”

  Was Jack that uncertain about his abilities as a lover? What was wrong with his ex-wives?

  “Not a one. You’ve got a dick that satisfied my every desire.”

  “So… uh…”

  “C’mon, dude, spill it out!”

  “Will you let me spend the weekend?”

  Don’t panic! Tom ordered himself. This is Jack, your best friend. He isn’t trying to take over your life. He knows what you are, and he won’t try to change you.

  “You’re not gonna let me go back to sleep unless I say yes, are you?” Tom winced. That had come out more aggressive than he’d intended. He offered a grin, hoping Jack would think he was just yanking his chain.

  “Nope.”

  Apparently Jack hadn’t picked up on how ambivalent Tom was about the idea of him staying. Well, that’s straight guys: totally clueless.

  “Then I guess you’re staying. Now, do me a favor and go to sleep.” Tom stuck his head under his pillow. If he pretended he was asleep, maybe that would cut short any further conversation. There were a lot of things he needed to consider.

  Jack wanted to stay over the weekend. Why? He’d gotten the blow job he’d wanted, Tom had had his curiosity satisfied; what more could Jack want?

  Before he could question Jack’s possible motives, and to his own everlasting surprise, Tom fell asleep.

  Jack’s internal clock woke him as it did every morning. Didn’t matter if it was the weekend, vacation, or holiday, along about 5 every morning it started nudging him awake.

  He opened an eye and focused on the large numbers of the bedside clock. Yep, time to get up and greet the day.

  He stretched and groaned as he worked the kinks out of his arms and legs. Damn, he felt good!

  His right arm bumped into something, and he went still and blinked and looked to his right. Beside him on the rumpled bed, sound asleep, was Tom
Hansom.

  Tom had been his best friend for years, and now… now he was his lover.

  Jack began to grin as he remembered what it felt like to have Tom’s lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him off. He remembered what it felt like to be buried balls-deep in Tom’s ass. He liked everything they’d done.

  He hadn’t fallen asleep right away after they’d made love. Instead, he’d done some very deep thinking, of the empty house he went home to every day after work, of the fact that he missed having someone to come home to.

  Tom was alone also. He wasn’t the handiest of men, and there were lots of little things around his house that needed repair. Jack could do that for him.

  Jack had fallen asleep and dreamed of the two of them living together.

  Tom’s lips parted and soft snores issued from them.

  Sweet Jack, behave yourself! he admonished his dick, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the vision before him.

  Tom was so relaxed in sleep, the aggression and edginess smoothed from his features, leaving him looking almost boyish.

  Let me tell you something, my friend! Jack addressed his inner straight guy. You have got it bad!

  His grin became rueful. It was a damned good thing that Tom wasn’t a morning person. He knew Tom could put up with a lot of things, but being mooned over like he was a member of a boy band and Jack some teenaged girl would see Tom react at his snarky worst.

  Jack slipped out of bed, grabbed up his clothes, and walked into the bathroom. After he relieved himself, he debated taking a shower.

  Nah, I think I’ll wait until I can take one with Tom. He recalled their high school days, and the peeks he’d sneak at Tom when the team had hit the showers, and when no one was looking. Oh, man, this is gonna be one awesome experience!

  In the meanwhile, he was going to make his friend the best breakfast he’d ever had! Like himself, Jack knew that Tom had learned how to do his own cooking. Unless he wanted to eat out every night, it only made sense.

  Jack remembered what it had been like when Reba, his first wife, had left him. He’d lived on TV dinners and take out, and on those weekends when he’d had the kids, he’d take them to Loueller’s.

  It got old fast, though, and he’d decided to try his own hand at cooking. Sadly, it had been Tom’s mom and not his own who had coached him through the first simple meal of roast beef and potatoes that he had planned for Teddy and Cath, his kids.

  He wasn’t a gourmet cook, but no one had died yet from the meals he’d prepared.

  Jack went to put on a pot of coffee, and while it was brewing, he switched on the radio that sat in a corner of the counter, then went in search of the ingredients he would need to put together breakfast. As he expected, he found everything he’d need.

  “Tommy boy, I’m gonna dazzle you with my culinary expertise!” And it would be one more step in his master plan of persuading Tom that they should live together.

  He rummaged around in the spotless kitchen, looking for the skillet.

  “Ah, Tom, you are going to be so spoiled this morning!”

  Jack put the skillet on the range, put strips of bacon into it, and turned on the flame. He washed and hulled the strawberries he found in the crisper in the fridge. There was some whipped cream left over from the night before, and that would go perfectly with the strawberries.

  He turned over the bacon that was sizzling in the skillet. then broke eggs into a bowl. Fried or scrambled? Decisions, decisions.

  The Four Seasons came on the radio, and as he cooked, he sang along with them. “Oh what a night… But I was never gonna be the same, as I remember what a night.”

  Finally, everything was ready. Jack poured two cups of coffee and placed them beside the plates on a tray.

  “Wake up, merry sunshine,” he called out as he entered Tom’s bedroom. There was no response from the lump that lay face down in the middle of the bed. He set the tray on the nightstand and shook his shoulder. “C’mon, Tom! Everything’s getting cold!”

  “Go ‘way.” The words were garbled, but Jack had no problem understanding them.

  “Wake up! Time’s a-wastin’!” He yanked down the bedspread, and Tom groaned.

  “Fuck ti…” The word was kissed from his mouth. “Hey!”

  “Morning breath alert!”

  “Jack, you…”

  Jack laughed. He had no intention of letting Tom sulk. He eyed his friend’s morning wood, and before Tom could continue growling, swooped down on it, licking it like a lollipop.

  “Jack…” Tom sighed voluptuously. “Hey!” he protested as Jack let his dick slip from his mouth.

  “Morning, buddy. Go take a leak and slap some water on your face. Breakfast is ready!” He held the coffee under his friend’s nose and grinned as it twitched. He did make good coffee, if he said so himself.

  “What time is it?” Tom yawned hugely and peeled open an eyelid. Both eyes opened wide as he saw the time. “Jack…”

  “Come on!” Jack pulled Tom out of bed and gave his butt a friendly smack. “Get a move on! We’ve got a lot to do today!”

  “What’d’ya mean we have a lot to do? It’s Saturday. We don’t have to do a damned thing!”

  Actually, they did. The faucet in the kitchen sink was leaking, the window in the back door needed to be re-caulked, and he’d notice that one of the slats in the backyard fence needed to be replaced. But he’d just wait until after breakfast to tell Tom.

  Jack admired the view as his friend stalked across the room, grumbling the entire way, un-self-consciously naked.

  He licked his lips. Oh, yeah. That could all wait.

  Come to think of it, even breakfast could wait.

  “‘Oh, what a…’ hmmm. Not night any more. ‘…morning…’” He followed his friend into the bathroom.

  Chapter 3

  Except This Monday

  Rainy days and Mondays always bring me down… Karen Carpenter

  People hate Mondays, if only on general principle. The weekend, two days of play, has ended, and it’s the start of the work week, five days of the old grind. Monday means it’s time to haul ass out of bed and join the rat race once more.

  Not Tom Hansom, however. He enjoyed the weekends, when he could have as many as three different lovers – he enjoyed men in all their varieties – but he loved his job and looked forward to returning to the halls of academia on Monday morning.

  Except this Monday…

  This Monday, there was someone in his bed with him, which was highly unusual, since he preferred to sleep alone – his partners were either dismissed to the spare bedroom he kept for them, or else they left to go home, having gotten what they’d wanted, a taste of the leather daddy.

  This Monday, the bed dipped, and a voice murmured in his ear. “It’s almost 6:30, buddy.”

  He relaxed when he realized it was his best friend, Jack.

  “In the morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remind me to kill you later.”

  “Sure thing, buddy.”

  “What are you doing here anyway?” he mumbled, but he was drifting back toward slumber.

  “I spent the night, remember?” He had actually spent the whole weekend, and suddenly Tom was wide awake. “I wanted us to have breakfast together, but I’m running late.” Jack’s calloused palm fondled Tom’s ass. “I love your ass, Tommy. It’s as firm as a green watermelon.”

  Tom felt warm lips pressing a quick kiss to it and sternly squelched the desire to arch up into the caress.

  “I’ve got to head out for work, babe, but I brought you a cup of coffee.”

  Tom sat up, lured by the warm, fragrant steam that was wafting from his favorite mug, and accepted it.

  “You make a good cup of coffee, and that’s the only reason I’m letting you get away with waking me up at this ungodly hour,” he groused, hoping it hid his unease.

  “Sure. It has nothing to do with my winning ways in bed.” Jack tipped Tom’s chin up and kissed him, morning brea
th and all. “I’ll see you later, babe.”

  Once he heard the door close behind Jack, Tom made no effort to conceal his dismay. “Does he mean he’ll see me later, as in he’s coming back here after work?”

  “No,” he assured himself. “Jack has his own life, he’s a straight boy, it’s just a figure of speech.”

  “Isn’t it?” The plaintiveness in that question pissed him off. “I don’t need this bullshit on a Monday morning.” He put the unfinished cup of coffee on the night stand and determined to go back to sleep.

  His bladder had other thoughts, however, and finally he growled, flung back the covers, and got out of bed. Inner muscles protested the sudden movement. Jack had ridden him pretty good that last time, and he… he’d egged him on, relishing the deep possession.

  He limped into the bathroom. Once he’d taken care of business, he realized he was now too awake to find any comfort in sleep.

  “And that’s your fault too, Sweet!”

  He washed his hands and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were shadowed, and his cheek and jaw were covered in stubble.

  “You begged that last time, didn’t you? Pleaded with him to kiss you, like some... You’re fucked. You are so beyond fucked, a term for it has yet to be devised!”

  He dropped the cover on the commode and sat there, his head in his hands.

  Tom was a top, had never wanted to be anything other than a top, until recently, when reading the stories of an online acquaintance intrigued him enough to want to learn how the other half lived.

  He’d gone to his fellow tops with the request for a favor, and they’d laughed at him.

  “You’re kidding, right, Hansom? You’d never relinquish control long enough, and you’d wind up trying to top me!” Each one had brought up the same objection.

  Oddly enough, the more this one thing was denied him, the more he wanted it. As a last resort, he’d gone to his best friend. He hated doing it, because Jack – 6’4”, blond, blue-eyed Jack – was straight, twice married – and twice divorced – and with two kids he adored, and Tom had always looked on gay boys who propositioned straight boys with nothing but contempt, but he’d been desperate.