Don't Read in the Closet volume one (31 page)

 
Owen looked down to where
his cock pressed at Rory’s entrance and held still. Anticipation built into
narrowed, biting focus. There was only Rory and Owen and the matching beat of
their racing hearts, and the harsh rapid breaths that echoed in a room that had
closed and wrapped around them with the weight of a heavy blanket. Nothing
beyond existed.

“I don’t know if I’ll fit, Ror.” Owen’s whole body trembled. “I
don’t want to hurt you.”

“You will and you won’t, O. I promise. Just…just go. God, I need
to feel you.”

Owen squeezed his eyes shut and a long growl rose from deep
within his chest as he pushed inside one slow inch by one slow inch. Rory felt
the stretch of tight muscles, the slight burn and discomfort of invasion, and
then a flooding wave of sweet, eye-watering pleasure as his body opened and
Owen filled him completely. And two became one.

“Oh. My. God. Ror.” Owen’s voice a jagged whisper. “You feel
incredible. So fucking tight and hot and…oh…God. I think I’m going to come
right now.”

“Don’t you
dare.
” Rory reached up for
Owen’s neck and tugged him down. The second their lips met, he rocked his hips
up and gasped into Owen’s mouth as the angle shifted and Owen rode over Rory’s
prostate
. Every single nerve ending in his body ignited.
“Oh… God…”

Owen slid almost all the way out, and slowly pushed back. Rory
matched Owen’s movements and they settled into a steady, pounding rhythm that
gained speed and force with each thrust until Rory’s whole body sang with the
exhilarating rush of Owen’s taking, claiming -- loving. He always knew making
love with Owen would be amazing, but the sheer perfection of it almost
overwhelmed him. A gasp escaped his throat that sounded dangerously close to a
sob.

Owen broke their kiss and stared down at Rory with fire in his
eyes. He took Rory in hand, and pulled and twisted Rory’s cock in time with
every hard, deep plunge into his body as they raced to crescendo together.

“I’m gonna… Ror... I…” Owen panted, his rhythm faltered and body
jerked. Rory had never seen his best friend look more beautiful than right
there in that moment, with his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted, buried so
deep inside Rory’s body he didn’t think they’d ever come apart. “Holy God,
Rory!” Owen shouted so loud Rory knew his ears would still be ringing the next
morning. Before the last echo of Owen’s roar faded in the team locker room,
Rory’s orgasm caught him by surprise and charged through his body with
lightning speed, exploding in hot, wet strikes across his stomach. Sparks
danced before his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

Owen carefully pulled out and collapsed on top of Rory in a
boneless sweaty heaving heap, and Rory cherished the weight of his best friend,
his lover, covering him. He threaded his fingers through Owen’s hair as their
breathing and pulses steadily throttled back.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Owen mumbled against Rory’s
cheek.

“I can’t believe it took us so long.”

“We’re both total idiots, you know.”

“Yeah.” Rory agreed. “And we totally deserve each other.”

Owen chuckled and then said, “Will you move back in now?”

“No.”

Owen fell silent and Rory felt the smile slip from his face. He
gave Owen a playful shove. “You’re moving in with me because you’re too damn
loud for us to share the dorm. We’d be kicked out in a week.”

This time the silence that swirled around them was laced with
pure contentment and a sense that all was right in the world.

“I did mean it,” Owen said. “I love you.”

Rory hugged him tighter to his chest and nuzzled his nose into
Owen’s hair. “I love you too,” he whispered into Owen’s ear. “I’ve always loved
you.”

~
 
Touchdown
 
~

THE END

Author bio:
Artist by
day, author by night, L.C. Chase is a hopeless romantic and adventure seeker.
Many of those adventures are fodder for her stories. The first time she left
home, she traveled 1200 miles to California -- to be a rock star -- with two
hundred dollars in her pocket. A four-year walkabout took her on a
coast-to-coast back roads tour of the USA, across both of New Zealand's islands
by bicycle, and a short road trip in Australia. Now that L.C. has two of the
coolest nephews on the planet, she calls the Canadian West Coast home. When not
writing, L.C. can be found reading, drawing, horseback riding, or running the
trails with her goofy Australian Shepherd, who, if he were human, would be a
stand-up comedian.

Website:
http://www.lcchase.com

Blog:
http://lcchase.blogspot.com

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/lc_chase

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/39906...

Selected by Kim Dare

Dear Author,

The poor fellow in this
picture is having a very bad day.

[PHOTO: The man is caught in mid-disaster.
In an old-fashioned bathtub shower, a lean, naked, dark-haired guy is taking a
spectacular fall, feet higher than his head, tangled with the clear shower
curtain, arm, head and shoulder headed for impact with unforgiving porcelain.
One hand has grabbed the flimsy curtain. It will not be enough to save him.]

I'm hoping a hot doctor
or nurse will fall for him during his sponge bath. No matter what he needs some
loving and a happily ever after, don't you think?

Thanks so much.

Lora

Genre:
BDSM, contemporary

Tags:
BDSM, masochism, friends to
lovers, kink, medical, nurse, reluctant dom, bratty sub

Words:
7,229

MASOCHISM 101

by
Kim Dare

A loud
hammering sound rudely inserted itself into Charlie Porter’s world. He frowned
as he made a vague attempt to take stock of his surroundings. He was lying on
something cold, hard and wet. Pity that didn’t rule too many places in or out
really.

A gutter? An
alleyway? The floor of a club that had a leaky roof?

Charlie tried
to stretch out his legs. Pain shot through his ankle as his foot hit against
something. He was…in some sort of container? A cage? No, whatever he’d kicked
hadn’t felt like bars. Maybe he was wedged into the corner of someone’s
playroom?

Charlie’s frown
deepened as he groaned his annoyance. Whoever was creating all the racket
wasn’t quitting and the banging noise wasn’t helping Charlie’s headache at all.
Damn, he usually had more sense than to drink if he was going to play hard—but
the ache in his bones made him sure he’d taken part in one hell of a scene, and
the pounding in his head implied he’d drunk way too many humorously named
cocktails the night before.

A shiver ran
down Charlie’s spine. Nerve endings whirled into action all over his body and
dutifully reported back that he was probably feeling so bloody cold because it
was raining. The patter of cold droplets continued to fall against Charlie’s
skin as he tried to sit up and failed.

It was only
then that he realised there was nothing getting in the way of the rain. Charlie
slowly put two and two together. He was stark bollock naked. His frown turned
even more puzzled as he hazily tried to remember how he came to be that way. He
didn’t remember hooking up with anyone. Come to that, he didn’t actually
remember leaving the flat.

He did,
however, remember stomping away from his flat-mate and storming into the
bathroom. And he certainly recalled cursing his cock for responding so bloody
enthusiastically to his oh-so vanilla friend.

Charlie played
it all back inside his head as he mentally retraced his steps that day.

Yes, he’d
slammed the bathroom door behind
him, that
was right.
Clothes off and thrown on the bathroom
floor,
check.
Then he’d jumped in the shower and started to jack his cock as hard and as fast
as he could, unwilling to praise his body for getting turned on by Sam, but
unable to resist jerking off before he headed for a club either. Charlie
recalled all that clearly enough.

Someone had
left a bar of soap in the bottom of the bath. Charlie remembered kicking it
irritably out of his way. Then, Sam must have forgotten he was in the shower
and turned on the tap in the kitchen, because the water had suddenly turned
icy. Charlie had jumped back and—

The pounding
noise suddenly, blessedly, stopped.

A moment later,
Charlie heard the sharp crack of wood splintering to his right.

“Bloody hell,
are you okay?”

The words came
from right next to Charlie. He tried to blink open his eyes. Bright white light
stabbed him in both eye balls, but he didn’t need to see anything to put the
final pieces of the jigsaw together inside his head.

“Of course I’m
okay. I was taking a sodding shower not going sky diving!” Charlie muttered as
he squinted at the vague blond form looming over him.

Charlie lifted
a hand to try to shield his eyes from the maliciously bright bathroom light. He
stopped short, letting out a yelp of pain as some sadistic little sod shoved a
red hot poker through his wrist.

“Stay still!”

Charlie’s
supposed rain stopped falling as soon as Sam leaned over the bath and turned
off the shower. Letting out an irritable growl, Charlie tried to reach for the
edge of the bath with his other hand. Whoever the sadist was, he obviously liked
symmetry. An equally well heated poker was shoved through the fingers of his
left hand. Charlie quickly let go of the tub and slumped back.

“I said stay
still!”

“Good for you,”
Charlie snapped. “Now, bugger off, there’s a good boy.” He tried to sit up once
more but an over-sized hand came to rest in the centre of his chest and held
him down against the bottom of the bath without any apparent difficulty.

Charlie finally
managed to focus well enough to glare at his flat-mate. “I’m fine. Will you
just get out of here?” Charlie demanded as embarrassment rushed through him and
chased away any chill the sudden blast of water might have left in its wake.

“No.”

Charlie looked
up at his friend. Sam looked back at him, big blue eyes full of worry.

Charlie spat
out a curse.

“You’ve
probably got a concussion,” Sam countered.

“And you’d know
that, would you?”

“Of course not,
they just let me work in A&E because I’m a nice guy.” Sam crouched down
next to the bath.

Several more
curses presented themselves for Charlie’s consideration. Yeah, Sam was a nice
guy. Pity really. If he’d been a complete bastard, Charlie was pretty sure they
could have had a hell of a lot of fun together.

“Do you know
what day of the week it is?”

Charlie raised
one dark eyebrow. Soapy water promptly dripped from his hair, straight into his
eye.

“The day of the
week,” Sam prompted again.

Something moved
against Charlie’s leg, he looked down just in time to realise Sam was tugging
at the mangled shower curtain. The clear fabric had somehow wrapped itself
around Charlie as he fell. Now, it was the only thing between Charlie’s body
and Sam.

“Hey, give that
back!”

Sam‘s eyes
opened wide with shock as Charlie managed to catch hold of the edge of the
curtain and pull it back over his body in spite of the pain it sent shooting
through his wrist.

“What? You’re
shy?” Sam asked.

“Yes, got a
problem with that?” Charlie demanded.

“You have sex
in front of clubs full of guys on a regular basis,” Sam pointed out, as if it
was something a man might forget doing.

Charlie said
nothing. That was completely beside the point.

Sam sighed.
“I’m a nurse, Charlie. You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before on an
entirely professional level.”

Charlie glared
up at the other man. He looked so…so not like the kind of guy who would ever
have sex in front of a club full of men while wearing nothing more than a pair
of leather chaps and a very enthusiastic smile. Sometimes life was so bloody
unfair…

“I don’t need
your help.” If Charlie was going to get anything off Sam, he’d be damned if it
would be TLC. He’d far rather it
be
a good whipping.
Or at least a nice rough—

“Well tough,
because you’re going to get it.”

Charlie
blinked.

“I’m not
leaving this room until I’ve checked you out.” Sam folded his arms across his
chest. Just for a moment, there was just a touch of the dom that Charlie wished
the other man was, about him.