him thoroughly, as hard as I could. When my thighs began to protest, I welcomed the burn in my muscles.
“Come on, boy. Let me feel you.”
His elbow jerked as he stroked himself fast.
I watched the base of my cock kiss his rim over and over until my vision blurred.
“C’mon!” I shouted, my thrusts ruthless, my cockhead deep in his guts, hurting him just like he begged me to.
He wailed, his body convulsing with another orgasm, and I could let go. Fucking bliss.
Michael lay on the bed next to me, sprawled on his front, his head on a pillow he’d put over my legs, ass in the air, his reddened ass cheeks and his cum-drenched hole right in my line of sight. He was putting on a show for me, and I loved it. Torso twisted so he could reach back, he dipped the tip of his pointer finger into his hole and played with himself, pushing the cum back in, smearing it around his rim… The smile on his face looked like sin.
“Fuck, I love this.” His eyelashes fluttered, mouth parted, when he pushed the finger in deeper. “Love your cum inside me.”
He looked so gorgeous, so ridiculously perfect, like the erotic fantasy porn had been trying to mimic for years, but kept falling short.
“Got enough for now, my little slut?” I chuckled at his shamelessness.
“Daddy, after the way you wrecked my hole tonight, I need at least five days to put myself back together.” He twisted the finger inside his ass and hummed. “You hurt me so good.”
“What if I want to fuck you again tomorrow, hm?” I waggled my eyebrows.
His tongue darted out, and he licked his lips playfully. “Then you have to wait.”
“Your mouth sounds like it needs a good reaming.”
He laughed. He flipped around and, straddling my hips, leaned over me.
“You can make me shut up anytime.”
I grabbed his hair and pulled his face to me.
“Like this?”
I kissed him for a while, just drifting on the cloud of pure happiness. Then I tugged on his hair to break the kiss and took in his features, his subtle smile, his forehead smooth with contentment…
“I love you, Vincent.” He stared into my eyes, honest and open.
He refused to clean up and dozed off, hugging my torso, naked, his hole full of my cum. I loved the way he clung to me, needy and trusting. While he slept, I traced the shapes tattooed on his forearm and thought of the future we could have together. I wasn’t afraid anymore. Even if one day he left me, I’d treasure these memories forever. The more time we spent together, though, the more convinced I became that we fit perfectly. However unlikely, our love was real, and it grew stronger with each passing hour.
For the past few days, Michael spent a lot of time hiding away somewhere on the first floor, painting. I asked him to show me, but he refused, saying it wasn’t ready. I swallowed my curiosity and waited. One day, he’d show me.
A couple of weeks back, I’d begun working as a personal security consultant. The job consisted of mostly research from home and online calls with a few meetings in the city. It was tame and sedentary, but I thought I’d learn to like it. I was quickly getting used to the peaceful way of living, spoiled already by Michael’s attention and constant closeness.
However, I was now completely self-sufficient again. We’d never explicitly talked about continuing living together after I recovered. My instinct told me that broaching the subject with Michael could be a potentially dangerous idea. He acted as if me living with him indefinitely was settled, a matter of course.
And I wanted it. I wanted a future with him, real and solid.
One evening after dinner, about a month after I’d arrived at his house from the hospital, we were having beers on the back patio. Michael sat on my lap on the lounge chair and toyed with the collar of my shirt.
“I think we should set up an office for you on the ground floor.” He tried hard to sound casual, but failed. “You know, the second guestroom, next to where Uncle Bart stayed last week. You shouldn’t have to work from the living room. I know you have an office in your apartment in town, but we can move the furniture here.”
The subtle insecurity in his voice prompted me to speak.
“Mikey, I’d ask you to live with me, but my apartment is tiny compared to what you’re used to. The question is, do you want me to stay here?”
He lifted his gaze, his eyes pleading. “I can come live with you. I don’t care where we are. Just… not apart.”
Oh, my sweetest boy.
“No, never apart.” He sighed with relief against my chest. “I love you, Mikey.”
“I love you,” he whispered.
I smiled. “That’s good. Because I need you to do something for me.”
He sat up and raised one eyebrow.
“What?”
“I need a ride to Bradford next week.”
“Okay. That’s random.”
“To pick up Julie.”
“Who’s Julie?”
“A border collie.”
“A border collie,” Michael repeated, face blank.
“A puppy. I chose her before I took the job with you and your uncle. I need to pick her up.”
“We’re getting a puppy?” His voice was breathy, ending with a slight squeak on the word puppy.
“I have to. It’s been arranged months ago.” I studied his face for clues of a freak-out.
Michael’s grin was wide and a little crazed. “We’re getting a puppy.”
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About the Author
Queer fiction author Roe Horvat was born in the post-communist wasteland of former Czechoslovakia. Equipped with a dark sense of sarcasm, Roe traveled Europe and finally settled in Sweden. He came out as transgender in 2017 and has been fabulous since. He loves Jane Austen, Douglas Adams, bad action movies, stand-up comedy, pale ale, and daiquiri. When not hiding in the studio doing graphics, he can be found trolling cafés in Gothenburg, writing, and people-watching.
Facebook group: Roemantics & Antics
Website: roehorvat.com
Also by Roe Horvat
Gay fiction and romance
The Layover
Dirty Mind
A Love Song for the Sad Man in the White Coat
Vanilla Clouds
Erotic romance/kink
Cabin Fever
Those Other Books (erotic romance)
The Other Book
Adam Only
One in Between
Third One
Beautiful Beast
Short stories
Swiss Experiment (The Layover)
Something More (Those Other Books)
Vacation (Those Other Books)