Texas and Tarantulas (12 page)

And Trent would rack his mind, wondering if he’d done something, said something, to give the old man a clue that he was gay. Or had it been something else entirely that had caused the chasm between them?

If nothing else, Trent tried to view it all as a painful life lesson. He’d learned to be loyal and hold onto what was important. Joe meant the world to him, and Diego did too. At first that was because of Joe, but now—not so much. Diego was a friend, and Trent didn’t have many of those. None that he saw regularly, since he’d kept others at a distance. Of course he knew why he’d done that. He had daddy issues, and abandonment issues from his mother leaving.

Or being murdered. He wished he knew if she’d left them all intentionally or if his dad, or one of the ranch hands, had lured her out and killed her. If that were the case, why had she taken some of her things with her? Trent didn’t like the suspicions growing in him, the ones in which he was sure his dad had killed his mom, then packed up some things to make it look like she’d abandoned them all. He could envision the old man out in the dark, moonlight the only reason he could be seen, shoveling away at the ground while a dark form in black plastic lay on the ground a few feet away.

Trent shivered and rubbed at his arms to chase the chill bumps away.

“Now you’re the one thinking too hard.”

He turned his head—he couldn’t really see Mahon but that was okay. He knew the man was there. “Bad night. Too much stewing upstairs to sleep properly.”

Mahon hummed and pulled him close. “This about what we were discussing outside before the tarantula came along?”

Trent had wanted to get back to that, yeah, but they’d ended up having Joe and Diego over, then having marathon sex after those two had left. After which, Mahon and Trent had both conked out.

Now that they were both awake, though… “Well—mmph.”

Mahon kissed him, a sloppy, wet, good, deep kiss. Mahon rolled on top of him too, and Trent’s heartbeat tripled.

He debated for all of a second before spreading his legs and letting Mahon settle into the V of them.

Mahon buried one hand in Trent’s hair and rested the other on the side of his neck.

The slow glide of their cocks together was good, so good. Trent bent his legs and planted his heels on the mattress so he could rock up with more force.

Mahon bowed his back then brought his mouth down on Trent’s. He sucked on Trent’s tongue, sucked on his lips, his chin.

Trent couldn’t keep track. His body was waking up sexually, little firebursts of pleasure going off inside him.

Mahon suckled a few spots on his neck then scraped his teeth over them down close to Trent’s shoulder.

Trent found himself holding Mahon’s head there, encouraging him to keep doing that. “More,” he even said. His stomach swirled and clenched. He wanted Mahon to fuck him.

It’s not me being the littler one, not me taking a role because of my size. It’s
me
wanting
him
, nothing more than that. Just me wanting him.

Trent locked his ankles around Mahon’s hips and tried to make his desires known without having to vocalize them. He always ended up taking over in bed, but tonight he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to let that chip on his shoulder about his height deny him what he needed.

And he needed to let go, just feel and revel in what was happening. He tried so hard to be level-headed and strong, overcompensating like the stereotypical short guy in jokes at times.

But not tonight. Tonight he needed to be strong enough to open himself to Mahon in more than the physical sense.

Mahon nibbled at his neck while rutting against him.

Trent turned his head aside, offering more of himself. He pressed harder on the back of Mahon’s head. Hadn’t he already asked for more?

Mahon scraped his teeth over that spot.

Trent’s stuttered moan felt like the first puncture in his self-control. He clutched at Mahon even tighter.

Mahon repeated the move then he bit almost delicately.

“Damn it, Mahon,” Trent rasped before shoving Mahon’s head down, likely smushing his nose against Trent’s neck.

But Mahon got the hint that time, biting Trent, pushing feeling and sensations into him through that contact.

Trent gasped, his eyes rolling. It shouldn’t have been possible to experience so much pleasure from being bitten.

Mahon trembled on top of him.

Trent needed more. He needed so much, in so many ways. “Mahon…please.” And he couldn’t articulate it beyond those two words.

The drag of sharp, pointy teeth over his skin should have been terrifying. It should not have caused Trent’s cock to leak, his balls to draw tight, his stomach to dip and twirl with excitement.

Yet those things happened, then pain and rapturous sensations washed over him as Mahon bit him, really bit him, sucking the wound even as his teeth penetrated Trent’s skin.

Trent went limp, the pleasure too great. He was aware of coming, could see himself as if from a distance, body lax, legs falling open, arms dropping to his sides while his mouth gaped open. Mahon’s big body would be moving, undulating through his own release. It was a beautiful imagining, and when Trent settled back into his body, he knew he’d remember it always.

There was a sharp ache where he’d been bitten, but Mahon was licking over that spot tenderly.

Trent’s cock wasn’t yet soft, and if Mahon kept moving like he was doing, it wouldn’t get soft, either.

For several long, lazy moments, they lay resting.

Gathering their strength for round two.

Mahon kept most of his weight off Trent, bracing himself on his elbows.

Trent was very, very aware of the rigidness returning between them—Mahon’s and his own.

Mahon began kissing him again, first his neck then back up, retracing the earlier path he’d taken.

When he reached Trent’s lips, Trent was ready for him, lips parted eagerly.

Mahon plunged his tongue in.

There was no sweet and slow this time, only a fiercer need that surged in a circuit from Trent to Mahon and back. Trent clutched at Mahon, at his shoulders, his back, his arms—anywhere he could reach. He was unable to keep still, wanting to touch Mahon everywhere.

They’d ceased using condoms after a discussion about shifters and humans, and their own health. Trent had never done that before, fucked without one, and he’d never thought he’d let someone else do him bare.

But he was going to scream if Mahon didn’t fuck him soon.

Mahon kept kissing him, mastering Trent’s mouth—all of him, really.

Trent was a jabbering, rutting mess by the time Mahon began licking a path down his neck. All Trent could do was rest his hands on Mahon’s head and pant.

Mahon nipped at Trent’s collarbone, then again at each of his nipples.

Trent found his voice then, at least enough to curse. “Fuck!”

There was a rumble of amusement from Mahon, then he suckled Trent’s left nipple while rolling the right between his fingers.

Trent had never cared much for tit play—he tended to skip over them on other guys, too—but now he was wondering why. Addictive heat swirled out from his nipples with each suck, each pinch. His dick grew harder, and he couldn’t keep still, turning his head from side to side, his breaths uneven, sweat rolling off him.

Mahon worked his tits over until they were so tender even the slight wisp of Mahon’s breath made Trent shudder.

Only then did Mahon move down, tonguing his way to Trent’s belly button.

Trent wasn’t sure what to think of having that little dip tongue-fucked. It wasn’t bad, but it kind of tickled.

Mahon moved further down. He lapped at Trent’s cockhead then nudged his hip. “Turn over.”

Trent’s stomach did its dip and swirl thing, the one that happened when he was so aroused he was in danger of embarrassing himself. He rolled over and got his knees under him, at the same time gripping his dick with enough force to be uncomfortable. It was all that kept him from coming when Mahon took one of his balls into his mouth.

Trent pressed his cheek against the pillow and spread his legs more.

Mahon palmed his ass, pushing one cheek aside.

The cool air from the AC seemed to be aimed right at his pucker. Trent arched his lower back, offering himself to his lover.

Mahon gave his ball one last lick then he spread Trent’s cheeks apart with both hands.

There was no waiting, no teasing. Mahon went after Trent’s hole eagerly, roughly, dragging his tongue over it again and again, pressing his face into Trent’s crease.

Mahon rubbed his chin over Trent’s asshole. The brush of stubble was almost too much.

Before Trent could jerk away, Mahon’s mouth was on his pucker, soothing the sting away.

Trent clawed at the bedding with one hand. He couldn’t take much more of that when he was already close to the edge. “Mahon…for fuck’s sake, put it in!”

Mahon pushed that slick tongue right into him and proceeded to drive moans and whimpers out of Trent.

He hadn’t been rimmed in years, hadn’t let anyone do such an intimate thing with him since his freshman year in college when he’d been learning what he liked. He hadn’t cared for the vulnerability he’d experienced those times, but he felt safe with Mahon.

And he could let go.

Trent did just that, forgetting about pride and appearances. He rocked back, fucking himself on Mahon’s tongue, then on Mahon’s fingers.

Trent hadn’t been aware of the lube being opened, or of Mahon even reaching for it. Regardless, he knew what that cool, wet sensation at his opening was. He shoved himself onto those thick digits the second after he felt them at his rim.

“Ah, gawd,” he drawled, consumed with the feelings of bliss swirling up from his ass.

“Careful,” Mahon grumbled, planting a hand on his lower back.

Trent began to move, riding those fingers, whimpering when they caressed his gland.

Mahon worked a third one in, and the burn was delicious, a perfect accompaniment to the rapturous sensations.

Trent grunted and held his dick tighter, not wanting to come yet. He could have done so a dozen times. “Fuck me,” he finally had to ask, although it came out bossier than he’d intended.

Mahon had his fingers free and his dick lined up in two seconds flat.

Trent felt the press of the blunt tip at his hole—then he was flipped over.

“This way,” Mahon said. “Wanna see you.”

Trent could make out the barest bits of Mahon’s features, mainly those shifter eyes that held bits of flames in them. “Come on then, get that big ol’ thing in me.”

“Romantic,” Mahon teased, just before thrusting.

Trent bowed his back, mouth dropping open, throat clicking as he attempted to swallow and his body tried to adjust to the thick invasion in his ass. Mahon’s fingers weren’t small, but even three of them didn’t match the girth of his cock.

Trent gasped a few times then he forced himself to relax his muscles before Mahon could think he wasn’t capable of handling this. “Move,” he got out once he had some spit in his mouth and could speak.

Mahon braced himself on his elbows, placing them beside Trent’s shoulders.

This gave Trent some room to play with Mahon’s nipples. He gave them each a twist.

“Oh—” Mahon jutted his hips, pushing that fat cock in to the hilt.

Trent couldn’t decide what was stronger, the pain of that sudden complete entry or the ecstasy of it.

Then it didn’t matter, because Mahon started moving, drawing back slowly, pushing in the same way.

Trent had to stop using both hands on Mahon’s tits. He needed one to jack himself with.

Mahon bent and kissed Trent on his lips then on his forehead. He began to fuck Trent harder.

Trent curled his ass up and locked his legs around Mahon’s hips. “Give it to me,” he urged.

Mahon growled, shoving his cock in so deep Trent felt the thrust up to his belly. Mahon rode him without reservation.

Trent gave himself with abandon.

Together they hit the edge, both shouting, Trent’s eyes rolling, his ears clogging with their voices mingling. He was simultaneously aware of the wet heat splattering into him and his own spurting out between them.

It was a perfect moment, a perfect fucking, and he knew it’d changed him somehow.

It wasn’t until he started to drift to sleep that he realized he’d already tumbled from like right into love for the man at his side.

Chapter Ten

“Thank God Bill finally gave up and went home, wherever that is,” Joe was saying. “I’d about had it with the pretentious asshole.”

Trent looked at Joe across the breakfast table. Sitting was a tad uncomfortable after the pounding Trent had taken a few hours before, but he had this peaceful feeling inside him that he’d never had before.

“Spit it out,” Joe said after a moment. “You’re making me nervous.”

Trent reached for Mahon’s hand under the table. He’d never done that, held a man’s hand, not even Mahon’s.

It startled them both, with Mahon perking up and giving him a strange look.

Joe frowned at them. “Y’all aren’t playing peckers under the table, are you?”

Trent snorted in an attempt not to laugh. “No, dumbass. I’m just holding his hand. See?” He brought their raised hands up and settled them on the table.

Joe seemed pleased—or maybe smug was more like it.

Trent decided to ignore that. “You think y’all can do without us for a few days?”

That had everyone looking at him.

Trent eyed his biscuit then used his other hand to pick it up. Butter and honey dripped from it. He took a big bite and had a foodgasm from it. He should have known better than to moan.

Joe smirked, Diego blushed, and Mahon looked like he was ready to grab Trent and carry him back to bed. Or just bend him over the table right then and there.

Trent licked his lips.

“All right, enough with the eye-fucking,” Joe complained.

Trent swallowed his food then said to Joe, “That’s disgusting, bub. You should come up with a better term instead of that one.”

Joe threw a biscuit at him. “Shut up. Only you would turn that into someone fucking an eye socket.”