Astounding! (12 page)

In the weeks that had passed since their initial encounter, Carter had almost forgotten how beautiful John was. He was self-conscious about his own body, even though he’d recently worked off a few of the excess pounds. Yet John hadn’t complained about his looks even when Carter was a little pudgy and out of shape, and now he looked very pleased with what he saw. “Do I sleep with you?” John asked.

“If you want to.” There were a couple of different ways they could configure the front of the RV into beds—either one larger bed or two smaller ones.

John’s smile grew. “I want to.”

Well, okay, then. John used the bathroom while Carter wrestled with hooks and hinges, eventually turning the dining area into a bed. John emerged in time to help him put on the bedding provided by the rental agency. It smelled like bleach, but Carter was suddenly far too tired to care. And when he climbed onto the mattress, he was happy to discover that it was more comfortable than his abandoned, unlamented futon.

John crawled in next to him and pulled the blankets over them both. He smelled of wood smoke and sage, and when he cuddled up against Carter, he felt like heaven. “This is such a gift,” he whispered, his lips almost touching Carter’s ear. “I never expected to be able to touch anyone again. Never expected to touch
you
again.”

“I’m glad you agreed to join us.”

“I’m glad you asked.”

That settled, John began to nibble gently at Carter’s neck, right where it met his shoulder. His skin was warm and smooth, and within moments John’s hard cock pressed firmly against Carter’s ass—separated from direct contact by two layers of thin cotton.

“Shit!” Carter groaned.

John froze. “Did I hurt you?”

“Jesus. No. That felt… really good. But I don’t have any rubbers. Again.”

“And you still won’t believe me that we don’t need them.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” John petted Carter’s upper thigh for a moment, then bounced abruptly out of bed. Carter would have been worried that John was offended, except the man was giggling like a mischievous schoolboy as he rummaged through his duffel bag. A few seconds later, John bounded back. He landed heavily on the bed and nearly slammed into Carter. “Here,” John said, pressing things into Carter’s hands.

Carter couldn’t see the objects, but he recognized them by feel: the round, flat foil of a packaged condom and a small plastic bottle that he assumed contained lube.

“Where’d you get these?” Carter asked.

“When we stopped for groceries. I was hoping you’d be wanting them. Keith helped me pick them out.”

Carter’s face grew hot, which was ridiculous. He was too old to be ashamed about having sex, and hell if he was going to be embarrassed that his ex-lover’s boyfriend knew he was having sex. But still, now he wondered if the TV in the bedroom was on to entertain Freddy and Keith or to camouflage the noises they expected Carter and John to make.

And soon enough they
were
making noises, as John licked and sucked his way across Carter’s body and Carter writhed and squeezed whatever parts of John he could reach. Last time, the sex had been like a bolt of lightning—white-hot and intense. But tonight was more like a slow burn. Somewhere along the line they both kicked off their underwear, leaving them gloriously skin against skin. The bed creaked a little under their movements, and the rain intensified and pattered loudly against the windshield.

Somehow Carter found himself pinned under John’s greater bulk, John holding Carter’s wrists together over his head and nuzzling at the tender spots of his neck and cheek. “You like this, don’t you?” John asked. He was panting.

Yes
, Carter wanted to say, but what came out instead was a long, low moan. And the thing was, he hadn’t known he’d like it—not until now. Most of the time his fucking was perfunctory. Even with Freddy—and the handful of other men he’d briefly dated—the sex had not been noteworthy. Tab A, slot B, a little huffing and puffing, and a happy ending for all. It had never before occurred to him that getting off didn’t have to be the main point. That the journey to climax could be at least as satisfying as the climax itself. And he’d certainly never realized that he enjoyed being held down, overpowered and overcome, overwhelmed by touch and smell and even a thrilling little hint of pain.

“Oh,
God
,” he groaned as John bit gently at his left nipple.

Generally, John seemed a little hesitant, slightly unsure of himself. He tended to defer to everyone else. But now he’d become very confident in his movements, as if someone had given him an instruction manual on how to drive Carter fucking wild. Carter would have liked to see that manual. Until tonight, he hadn’t realized he could feel so turned on. So electrified.

John released him and slid to the side. Carter would have protested, but John quickly urged him onto his belly, then onto his knees. Carter’s face was nearly buried in a pillow, while blankets covered the rest of him and all of John. And while Carter was having trouble breathing, oxygen felt almost superfluous at the moment.
A chemical reaction
, he thought crazily.
Takes just a little air to keep the fire burning
.

And oh fuck, but he was burning.

But John was kissing along the knobs of his spine, making Carter shiver, and then he licked wet stripes across his lower back, up and down his upper thighs, along his quivering flanks.

“Jo-ohn,” Carter whimpered. He was a hairsbreadth away from begging—and he never, ever begged.

Fortunately, the power of speech left him entirely when John began to rim him with a tongue as clever and agile as a Pulitzer Prize-winner’s pen. Carter’s hands fisted desperately in the bedding, and even though his eyes were squeezed tightly closed, colored sparks danced before his vision.

“Carter?” John asked from the depths of the bed. “Will you—” He stopped abruptly.

“Wh-what?” When silence met him, Carter growled. “Fuck me, John.”

After a very brief hesitation, John complied. He lubed Carter’s already stretched and greedy hole, muttered to himself as he donned the condom, and then—quite suddenly—sheathed himself inside Carter with one rough thrust.

“Oh,
God
,” moaned Carter, who could now utter nothing but blasphemies. He muffled his cries with the pillow, but that didn’t keep him from calling out when John pounded into him, the angle just right, and latched his teeth onto the meat of Carter’s shoulder.

Carter fisted his own cock quickly, without finesse. Electrical currents made every inch of his skin buzz, as if he’d turned into a human vibrator. Then John sped his movements, and his bite turned into a soft, tender kiss, and Carter lost it completely. He spiraled into an orgasm so intense he felt as if the entire RV had been picked up by a cyclone and wouldn’t touch down until they reached Oz.

With a long, drawn-out sigh that was almost a sob, John withdrew from Carter’s body and collapsed beside him.

“John?” Concerned, Carter reached for him. His worry only increased when his fingertips brushed John’s cheek and came away wet. “John? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” John replied shakily.

When Carter pulled him close, John nestled against him. “What’s wrong?” Carter asked again.

John’s answer was muffled slightly by Carter’s chest. “Nothing. Really. I just never… I didn’t know it could feel so good.”

“Neither did I,” Carter admitted, which caused John to snuggle in even closer.

Slowly, their heartbeats settled and their breathing evened out, but neither of them fell asleep. Finally John stirred a little. “I’m not an expert on families,” he said. “I’ve never had one. But do you know what I think? Just because your blood relatives are jerks doesn’t mean you have to be alone. You can make your own family.” Then he kissed Carter’s cheek and padded off to the bathroom bare-assed, the used rubber pinched in one hand.

C
ARTER
WOKE
up early. They’d drawn the curtains on the side of the RV, but the morning sun shone through the big windshield, turning John’s bare shoulders golden. Carter’s body was a little sore but in an entirely pleasant way. He stretched a little just to feel the twinge.

“Good mor—” A warm and leisurely kiss interrupted Carter. John didn’t even have morning breath; he tasted like mint. Surely he hadn’t snuck out of bed to brush his teeth?

“Good morning,” John finished for him when their lips parted. He ruffled Carter’s hair. “You look good.”

“Scruffy and bleary-eyed?”

“Sweet and innocent.”

“Innocent?” Carter repeated, laughing. Hardly the right adjective to use for the man whose ass John had fucked so thoroughly the night before. And Carter had
never
been sweet.

But John nodded and cupped Carter’s stubbly jaw. “Beautiful. You are a beautiful being.”

Well, nobody had ever called him that, and Carter had glanced in mirrors before. He knew what he looked like. Still, he could almost believe the word—at least for a second or two—when John uttered it so earnestly. John’s hair was a gorgeous mess but his cheeks were as unwhiskered as a young boy’s.

“I’d like to go for a run,” Carter said, clambering off the bed. “Get in a little exercise before we’re stuck sitting all day.”

“Can I come with?”

Delighted, Carter grinned. He rarely had anyone to run with. “Of course!”

It took them a few minutes to get ready. Carter dressed first, in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. While John was getting ready, Carter shoved a bit of leftover steak between two rolls and slathered on some mayo. Coffee could wait, but ever since he’d begun his new exercise regimen, he liked to fuel up a bit before hitting the pavement. John came out of the bathroom in a perfectly white T-shirt and a pair of very tight blue shorts with white stripes on the side.

“Do you think these will be all right?” John asked, frowning down at himself. “They’re swim trunks. I don’t have anything else suitable for exercise.”

That raised several questions that Carter decided to ignore. “You’ll be cold. It’s chilly out.”

“I’m never cold.”

Not worth arguing about, Carter decided. He handed one of the little sandwiches to John, who took it with a smile. They laced on their shoes—Carter had proper running shoes, but John’s were plain white Converses—and after a glance at the closed bedroom door, they exited the RV.

It was a glorious morning. The leaves and ground were still wet from the previous night’s downpour, but the sky was a deep blue flocked with a few storybook clouds. Birds sang. Someone at a nearby campsite was cooking bacon—Carter could smell it. The air was just crisp enough to keep a runner from overheating.

John watched carefully as Carter went through a few stretches and warm-up exercises, and he copied each one faithfully. And as soon as Carter began to run, John was right at his side. Their feet pounded the same tempo into the ground.

Feeling strangely energized, Carter ran faster than usual. He was surprised when John had no problem keeping up, not even when the path rose up a fairly steep hill. Carter moved even faster, and soon he found himself in a friendly race, both of them gasping for air even as they laughed and lightly jostled. They reached the crest together and jogged in place side by side, looking down over a valley vibrant with a thousand shades of spring green. And then, on impulse, Carter grabbed John, dipped him down like a movie starlet, and kissed the last of the oxygen away.

“We could make love here,” John said when he was back on his feet.

Carter was badly tempted. But Freddy and Keith were probably waiting, and public indecency had never been Carter’s thing. He had no idea how well frequented this path was, and there were no good hiding places nearby. Plus, poison oak.

“Rain check?”

Clearly a little disappointed, John nodded. “I’d like to make love with you outdoors, though. Under the stars. Do you think that’s possible?”

It was endearing—if slightly discomfiting—that he said “make love” instead of just “fuck.” Carter smiled at him. “Maybe.”

He took off running down the hill, but even though Carter had a head start, John caught up quickly. The scenery rushed past with almost terrifying speed, as if Carter were falling, yet he kept his feet under him and arrived back at the RV with a triumphant cry.

Keith stood near the fire pit, snapping photos of treetops with his phone. But when he heard Carter and John, he whirled around to face them. He wore a red T-shirt with a cartoon of Spock and Captain Kirk making out. “Oh my God. You two are adorable. Hang on.” He lifted his phone in preparation for a picture of them.

“Hey, don’t—” John exclaimed.

Keith happily ignored him, poking busily at his screen. But when they came nearer, he frowned at his phone. “That’s weird.”

John looked acutely uncomfortable, so Carter asked, “What?”

“Look.” Keith held up the phone so Carter could see, and then he scrolled through a series of shots. Each perfectly showed the trees, the robin’s-egg sky. But in every one, Carter was a smudgy blur, and where John should have been there was nothing but a sort of fuzzy blankness.

Keith swore. “Stupid thing. I knew I shouldn’t have upgraded to the new OS.” As Carter watched and John fidgeted, Keith took photos of the RV, of the ground and the fire pit, of the driveway leading to their campsite. He even shot a few selfies. All turned out well. But when he tried to capture John and Carter again, the results were the same as before: a blur and fuzz.

“What the hell? Okay, let me try to get all three of us at once.”

John didn’t seem at all eager, but he let Carter tug him close and then stood obediently while Keith positioned himself beside them and fussed with the focus. “Okay. Say cheese, guys.”

The results were still puzzling. Keith’s face was perfectly clear while Carter’s was heavily pixelated and distorted. And John’s looked like static on an old-fashioned TV.

Muttering to himself and prodding at the screen, Keith headed back into the RV. Carter looked at John, who was gnawing his lip. “I don’t photograph,” John explained. “Electricity.”