Free Life After Joe by Harper Fox Page A

down across my lap, moving with a slow grace it dried my mouth out to watch. He let his weight down, and my shaft found its target straightaway, despite the difficult angle. “Yes,” he gasped. “Push up. Fuck me.”
    I obeyed, lost. Only his dry tightness and the sound he made when the head of my cock tried to broach him brought me back to recall of my manners and the basics. “Christ, wait! We need some lube. And…a rubber, for God’s sake, you idiot. I…I haven’t been good.”
    “Do you want to get up and get them?”
    I stared up at him. He was watching me with a kind of grave merriment, and I realised he was capable of all sorts of mischief, that I shouldn’t take his calm surface for the whole man. I said faintly, “Not in the slightest. Look, we…test one another in the hospital. The interns. I’m okay—somehow. But for you, gorgeous…Not taking any chances. Come on. Shift.”
    “Um. At the risk of losing your good opinion of me, maybe you don’t have to…” I frowned in confusion, and he clarified, one corner of his smile tucking up a little tighter, “In my jacket. I never did expect to have much luck in the Powerhouse, but…Well. Hope springs eternal.”
    “Oh…” It took me a long few seconds to catch up, but then he was reaching over my shoulder, and I remembered he’d slung his coat round the back of the chair before we’d sat down to eat. I drew an unsteady breath. There was something very erotic in the thought of him getting dressed for the night in his riverside flat, shrugging into the soft leather jacket, making a check in its inside pocket, thinking about what might lie ahead. “Prepared is best,” I whispered, watching half-hypnotised while those capable fingers popped a condom from the packet and drew it adeptly down over my cock. “Don’t worry—your reputation’s quite safe with…”
    I couldn’t finish. He had shifted back into position, and I could feel the fluttering gape of his entrance. “All right,” he got out. “Good. As for lube…” I saw him stretch one arm back, reaching blindly among the bottles and glasses on the table. “Oh yes. Luigi’s, extra virgin. Very nice.”
    My eyes widened. “You’re fucking kidding, Aaron.”
    “I’m really not, Matthew.” Uncapping the bottle, he poured a stream of green-gold oil into his palm.
    “Oh God. Call me Matt. Oh God.”
    He rode me gently but hard. I could have come within ten seconds of my cock sliding up into his body. The sounds he made as it entered, the spasms in his muscle ring brought my balls up tight, my load starting to strain for release. But I had to hang on for him. He was smiling down at me, pale skin flushed now, mouth a little swollen with arousal. I laid my hands on his thighs, shuddering at the feel of the hard, working muscle, the machinelike rhythm as he shifted up and down, bringing me deeper with every pulse until I’d reached so far inside him he barely needed to move for the impact, the pressure to jar us both closer to orgasm. I felt it start, gasped out a denial and clenched both hands so hard on him I knew he’d be bruised for days, then scrambled down off the peak. “Aaron, come on,” I whispered. “Let me…let me have you.”
    “Yes. I want to. I…”
    There it was again. That last restraint inside him, holding him back from the crest. Whose memory was he honouring? Whose image rose up just before he came? “Come back,” I pleaded, shifting my grip to his backside to try and draw him down an impossible last half inch. “If there’s somebody…making you feel bad, just…let it go…”
    The green eyes clouded. “I told you. There’s no one.”
    I closed my eyes in shame. Thought for one god-awful second I was going to lose him. But he had gone over the edge, and when I next could look, he had flung back his hands to brace on the table behind him, his spine arching, a cry leaving him that had bright wires of anger and pain running through it as well as completion.