Head 01 Hot Head (45 page)

“What’s atasid?” Nicole asked Griff. “Monster?”

Griff whispered, “It’s medicine, bug.”

From the other end, Dante whispered too. “Because your mother
is
a headache.”

Loretta snapped at him with her napkin, and then her parents let the chuckles out.

Griff just smiled across the length of the table at Dante.

Dante smiled back and winked across the meal and their family.
I love you too.

Tommy leaned over to ask Loretta, “Why does she cal him Monster?”

Griff shook his head. “Long story.”

Loretta nodded. “Long, scary story. At least he’s part of the family now.”

“Loretta! He already was.” Her father looked indignant over a spoonful of broth.

Griff smiled back at her. “I know what she means.”

“So do I.” Dante nodded and mouthed a kind word at his sister:
Thanks.

Tommy stood and spooned cioppino into Nicole’s bowl with the patient humor of an experienced parent.

Loretta was not so silent. “On
one
condition.”

Mrs. Anastagio turned to argue and Griff raised his eyebrows to protest.

“I get to be there when you guys tel Flip you’re an actual, honest-to-Christ gay couple.” She squeezed the paramedic’s arm. “Tommy can do CPR.”

“Okay…?” Tommy blushed and nodded as he sat again.

She saluted her brother with a fork. “That wil just make my”—she glanced at her daughter—“eff-ing decade! Flip out!” She put the bite of pasta in her

mouth triumphantly. Her chewing face was such a smug caricature that they al laughed.

Mr. A. scooped up a pile of crisp, buttery green beans. They wobbled on his fork as he observed, “You children are terrible.”

“But”—eyes on Dante’s pirate smile, Griff spoke what they were both thinking—“very, very grateful.”

Over Brooklyn, over Manhattan, even over Ground Zero, the sky was darkening and the sun smoldered golden. Smoke and fire. Like ten years after the

world had ended, the whole crazy city was sitting down to dinner with thankful survivors. Like New York was grateful too.

LATER, when the dinner was done and the game was won, their little family had headed to their own homes to sleep off their food comas.

Their family had already cleaned the kitchen and stashed leftovers in the fridge. Dante and Griff sat together for a while on the couch, half-dozing, with Dante leaning back into the circle of Griff’s arms. They both drifted off, too happy to move.

When it was fuly dark outside the windows, Griff woke and shook his boyfriend—

Boyfriend!

—gently. “Babe?”

Dante’s face was pilowed against the swel of his chest, the blue-black stubble starting to show. He looked like a suave storybook bandit. The gentle, happy

bend of his mouth made it look like he was faking, but his breath was deep and regular. He nuzzled a milimeter closer but kept on dreaming.

“Baby.” Griff touched his jaw.

Dante roled his head into the caress, but he didn’t open his eyes. His smile deepened and he groaned. “Mmm. I had the best dream.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dante licked his lips, and his forehead creased a bit like he was trying to remember something behind his eyelids.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“M’kay. Good.” Dante put his face back down between Griff’s pecs and dozed off again.

Griff chuckled and slid a hand down Dante’s torso, folowing that crisp treasure trail into his pants. He squeezed the spongy shaft nestled there.

Dante arched and humped up into his hand. His cock started to wake up, but his eyes stayed closed. “That was part of the dream too.”

“It was?” Griff milked him to an erection and kissed the top of his tousled head.

“Ughhmm.” Dante puled his hips in to get away from the big hand. He roled over completely to lie between Griff’s thick legs and shifted up so they were

face to face. His lids were stil shut like he was trying to see something inside them.

“What else happened?” Griff tipped his head up and bit his lower lip gently until Dante shivered and kissed him. Griff smoothed the hair out of his lover’s

handsome face. “In the dream. You were saying….”

Dante shook his head lightly, like he was trying to jostle something loose. “Dunno… I can’t… remember exactly. ’S’funny.”

Griff kissed one eye.

Dante let him, his lashes soft against Griff’s lips. Then he raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah. I’d nearly wrecked my life. I was in love with my best friend.

Bonkers, horny, impossible.”

Griff kissed the other. Lashes, lips.

“Come to find out he was too. Right back. And he saved me, every inch of me. Like puling me out of a burning building.”

“Are you sure you’re remembering this right?” Griff rubbed their stubble together, slow and scratchy. He licked Dante’s throat, bit it lightly.

“Oh! And he agreed to move in with me. And gave me a sexy picture, just for me. And we’d built this weird house that was ours.”

“And a family?” Griff’s voice was gravely as he breathed the scent of Dante in, filing his lungs and sighing contentedly. “I like this dream.”

Dante was grinning and fuly awake now. He pretended to remember, squinting. “Thaaat’s right. Then our family was here and we had dinner.” He opened

his black-green eyes, smiling across the two inches that separated their noses.

Griff cupped those round buttocks and ground their hips together; he nipped Dante’s earlobe and rumbled right into it. “Mm-hmm. I don’t think that was a

dream, mister.”

“Thank God! Then we don’t have to get up.” He plunked his face back onto Griff’s chest and squeezed his ribs hard, snuggling closer.

They were both laughing quietly together on the couch where they’d first….

Without warning, Griff growled and reared up, gray eyes flashing.

“Hey!” Dante slid off him, protesting. “Where’s the fire?”

“Right here.” Griff bent his knees and slid his arms under Dante.

Dante squirmed, ticklish. “Geez! Uh… Mr. Muir? Are you gonna haul me upstairs and attack me?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Anastagio.” He hefted Dante and dropped him over his shoulder in a dead lift, heading for the stairs.

“C’mon! Put me down. C’mon, G! I’m up. I’l walk!”

“Don’t want you waking up in the middle of your dream.” Griff laughed and smacked the hard buttocks next to his face, taking the steps quickly and carefuly.

“Real fucking romantic! Help!” He bit Griff’s buttocks and shouted with laughter. The stairs creaked under their combined weight.

Then they were up in their bronze room. The city outside was quiet; a sugar cookie moon hung over the Brooklyn streets.

“Sir, I am a trained rescue professional.” Griff bent to rol Dante off his shoulder onto their enormous bed.

Dante flopped back and blew hair out of his grinning face. He started to sit up against the pilows.

“You seemed unresponsive and were having difficulty standing.” Griff wrestled him back down.

“I want to test your vitals….” He shucked Dante’s pants off roughly and raised his shirt, licking his hip to his bely to his nipple to his throat to his mouth. He held Dante pinned under him, smile to smile. “Because I might need to provide CPR.”

Keeping their mouths close, Griff toed off his own shoes and peeled out of his holiday clothes in record time so that their skin was pressed close the way it

was supposed to be.

Oh!

The moment they slid together, they both moaned at the heat between them, the desire that licked up their bones, the perfect puzzle fit of each other as they

grappled playfuly. “Now, you mustn’t struggle, Mr. Anastagio.”

But Dante kept squirming and laughing and bucking under him, to no avail. It felt like heaven.

Griff kissed him once, licking his teeth, and tried to look serious. “You might be in a state of shock.”

And just like that, Dante went stil, his eyes wide and warm and scarab dark.

“I should be….” He raised a hand to trace Griff’s broad chest, his soft lips, his fiery hair, then took a handful to pul him down so that their mouths were an inch apart again. “I should be. Huh, G? But I’m not.”

Griff roled over slowly onto his back, taking Dante with him to lie on top. The black curls tumbled around their faces, almost shutting out the bronze wals so it was only them together, breathing the same air, lips just brushing… brushing… brushing.

“Wel,” Griff whispered. “Maybe I can shock you….”

About the Author

DAMON SUEDE grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America and escaped as soon as it was legal. Having lived al over (Houston, New York,

London, Prague), he’s earned his crust as a model, a messenger, a promoter, a programmer, a sculptor, a singer, a stripper, a bookkeeper, a bartender, a techie, a teacher, a director… but writing has ever been his bread and butter. He has been happily partnered for a decade with the most loving, handsome, shrewd, hilarious, noble man to walk this planet.

Though new to M/M, Damon has been a ful-time writer for print, stage, and screen for two decades. He has won some awards but counts his blessings more

often: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his sily, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year.

Damon would love to hear from you. You can get in touch with him at http://www.DamonSuede.com, http://www.goodreads.com/damonsuede, or

http://www.facebook.com/damon.suede.