Smoky Mountain Dreams (49 page)

“Did you like that? Being called a greedy bottom boy?
Because that’s what you are tonight, aren’t you, babe? A greedy boy.”

“Yes,” Christopher hissed.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s my good boy. Open your sweet hole for my
cock. Look at you writhing on it, taking me up your ass. Begging me for it.”

“Please fuck me harder, please.”

“Oh, I will, babe. I will. Because you need my dick in that
sloppy wet hole of yours, don’t you?”

“Holy fuck!” Christopher cursed, his thighs trembling and
his asshole squeezing Jesse tight.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Jesse,” Christopher whined, his voice unrecognizably rough
and deep.

“Yeah, you like my fat cock in your slutty hole?”

“Oh my God,” Christopher shuddered, flushing all over,
embarrassment and lust rushing so hard under his skin that he felt like his
entire body was going to burst into orgasm.

“Sing for it. Sing for my dick in your hungry hole.”

Christopher was speechless, his body vibrating. Imminent
orgasm was becoming unavoidable. Jesse slowed and then pulled out, his fingers
sliding in and hooking against Christopher’s prostate. He squirmed and bucked,
his mind racing, his heart pounding. God, what was wrong with him? Why was this
so fucking hot?

“Sing, Chris. The song about me.”

“I can’t,” Christopher grunted.

“I’m waiting.” Jesse massaged his prostate again, and
Christopher lifted up on his knees, pushing his ass up in the air. Jesse’s
fingers fucked in and out a few times.

“Please,” he begged. “Oh, God, I need it so bad.”

“Sing the chorus.”

Christopher moaned and whispered the chorus, his body hot
and going hotter with each twist of Jesse’s fingers.

“Nice. That was very pretty.”

Christopher’s cock dribbled helplessly on the window seat
cushion and he arched his back and clenched his hole around Jesse’s fingers. “Say
something dirty. Please.”

Jesse rubbed against his prostate, and when he spoke, his
voice was breathy and yet brutal enough that Christopher clenched the covers
and cried his need into the pillow.

“Sing for my dick with your filthy cocksucking mouth.”

Christopher had no idea if he was saying the right words or
if he was carrying the tune, because Jesse slammed into him with his cock as
soon as he started to croon, and his asshole spasmed wildly around the
invasion. He pictured it as greedily sucking at Jesse’s cock, gripping it, not
wanting to let it go with each withdrawal. His song trailed off into moans and
warbling sounds of pleasure.

“Can you still talk, babe?”

“Yes,” Christopher whimpered. “Please, say something dirty.
Please. Fucking God, it’s good.”

Jesse bent over him, gripped his hair tight, and jerked him
up from the window seat. He whispered menacingly in his ear, “Such a tight hot
hole taking my big fat cock.”

“Call me something.”

“Whore.”

“Slut,” Christopher mumbled.

“Mmm. Slutty, sloppy whore with a wet, cunty hole.”

“Fuck. Tell me…” Christopher went hot all over, his skin
prickling, and he almost couldn’t say it. “Tell me I’m gonna burn in hell. For
loving your big,
oh, God
, your big fat cock up my
ass.” He whimpered. “Please, call me…call me a faggot, a disgusting, filthy
sodomite. Satan’s pervert. Please. I need…I need it. Please, Jesse, tell me I’m
gonna burn.” He shivered and almost came saying the words himself, but he
needed to hear them from Jesse’s mouth.

Jesse’s hips stuttered and Christopher almost dropped from
ecstasy into mortification, but Jesse stroked a hand down his back.

“Oh, Chris. You’re so sweet. So dirty and sweet, a filthy
angel, and hell doesn’t have room for such a slutty cocksucking whore like you.”
Jesse moaned. “Come for me now. I want to feel you.”

There was no holding back. A sun burst through his body,
unbearable pleasure pumping out of his cock and throbbing in his pelvis until
he collapsed, shaking, shivering, and vaguely aware that Jesse seemed to have
come too based on the throbbing of his cock shoved deep in Christopher’s ass.

Long minutes passed, and as Christopher started to come down
from his high, a thrum of embarrassment and shame started in the back of his
brain. Jesse was still on top of him, and Christopher wondered if he could just
pretend they’d never done this. Then he’d never have to admit that Jesse had
seen him—the dirtiest, filthiest, fucked-up part of him.

“That was a surprise,” Jesse said, rolling off him onto his
side. “Did you know you’d like that?”

So, they were going to talk about it.

Christopher shook his head, anxiety churning in his gut, and
when Jesse pulled off his condom and disposed of it without saying anything
else, he wondered just what he was supposed to say to make what he’d asked for
at the end disappear.

Jesse sat by him and ran his hand down his back. “You okay?”

Christopher nodded and sat up, not meeting Jesse’s gaze. “I
made a mess of this cushion.”

“Fuck the cushion.” Jesse touched Christopher between the
eyes with his index finger, rubbing the crease in his brow. It felt good and
reminded Christopher of when Jackie used to rub his forehead in bed at night.
He turned away.

“You come from a fucked-up fundamentalist family. Of course
you get off on that. I got off on you getting off on it. Everyone wants to feel
slutty and dirty sometimes. You don’t need to be ashamed.”

Christopher’s stomach hurt. He didn’t think it was from the
rough fuck, so much as from the assessment. “So, I’m fucked in the head because
my family’s all religious freaks.”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jesse touched Christopher’s
shoulder. “I mean, we’re all fucked in the head. I just…you liked it, and there’s
nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not a slut, or a whore, and you’re definitely
not going to hell—”

“You didn’t even say that.”

“I couldn’t look at you, so fucking beautiful and about to
come for me, and say something like that. Now calling you a greedy slut or a
whore? Sure. Because right that second you were
my
greedy slut and whore. But only right that second.”

“I don’t know if we should play that game anymore.”
Christopher rubbed his arms and then reached for his shirt. “I feel…gross about
it.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide and he took Christopher into his arms
and kissed his cheeks, eyelids, mouth, and chin. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Jesse rubbed his back. “What can I do to make this better?”

Tell me you love me.

“Just hold me for a few minutes.”

“For as long as you need,” Jesse murmured.

“Or until the phone rings,” Christopher said, and managed to
quirk a smile.

Jesse squeezed him tighter.

“You really don’t…think I’m…I mean, you don’t think less of
me now?”

“No. I think less of myself for just doing it and not making
sure it was okay first. For going too far with it.”

“I came so fucking hard, though.”

Jesse shrugged. “Me too. We were into it. Now we’re not and
things look different.”

Christopher nuzzled Jesse’s neck, smelling his skin. “I
might want to do it again sometime. Have you call me dirty things. When we’ve
planned it in advance.”

“It’s up to you. I enjoyed it, but I don’t want you to—”

“I enjoyed it too. Someday. Not anytime really soon.”
Christopher realized the implication of that comment—that he’d be around for
long enough to make long-term plans about their sex life.

“Sure. In a few months. Or next year. Or never. Whenever you
want.”

And Jesse had assumed it with him. Christopher snuggled into
his arms, warm, safe, and protected.

J
ESSE’S
PALMS WERE SWEATING WHEN
Nova opened the door for him and Christopher.
She wore one of her long, outdated blue jean skirts and a long-sleeve t-shirt
proclaiming love as her guiding force. Christopher wore jeans and the green
sweater that brought out his eyes. Jesse nervously hugged her and said, “Hey,
thanks for getting the kids.”

Nova had picked them up from school that day, so that he
could collect Christopher to bring him for dinner. They were a little later
than expected because Christopher had changed shirts three times, unable to
find one he was happy with, until Jesse told him to wear the sweater because no
one could resist him in that sweater.

Even though Nova had been the one to suggest inviting
Christopher, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d really be able to accept
Jesse with someone else. Sure, she’d practically begged him over the years to
give up the burden of Marcy to them and move on, but maybe it was one of those
things that were better in theory.

He sighed in relief as Nova put her arms around Christopher
there on the doorstep.

“So happy to see you again, Christopher. Come on in and make
yourself at home.” She slid her arm through Christopher’s and guided him down
the hall toward the living room and kitchen, saying, “Tim has taken the kids up
the trail behind the house for a little afternoon mountain walk, but he’ll be
back soon enough. Would you like some water or a glass of kombucha? I’ve just
gotten it out of the back of the closet and it’s positively fizzy and
delightful. And so good for you!”

Christopher glanced over his shoulder at Jesse with his brow
creased. “Kombucha?”

“Have you never had it?” Nova led him to a kitchen chair and
sat him down.

Jesse took the chair opposite and leaned his elbow on the
table, winking and smiling when Christopher looked toward him for guidance.

“No, ma’am, I haven’t.”

“Oh, dear! Don’t call me ma’am, sweetie. Nova will do just
fine, and please just call Tim by his given name too. It will confound us both
if you call us something else.” She reached into the cupboard and pulled out
three glasses. “You’re having some too, Jesse,” she said a little sternly,
brooking no disagreement.

“If I must.”

Christopher looked a little nervous as Nova sat down the glasses.

“It’s tea,” she said. “A very wonderful, healthy tea that
will strengthen your immune system and clean out your liver.”

“She grows it in her closet,” Jesse added.

“She grows tea in her closet?” Christopher’s eyes widened.

“No, she grows the SCOBY in the tea in her closet. It’s
incredibly sanitary.”

“Shh, Jesse Birch, you’ll scare him. It’s perfectly safe.”
Nova grabbed a pitcher of the golden liquid from the fridge. “Besides I don’t
serve it with the SCOBY still in it. I use the SCOBY to start a new batch!”

“SCOBY?” Christopher murmured as she approached.

Jesse rested his chin against his fist and watched Nova make
her way across the kitchen with the pitcher in hand. “Yeah, gross slimy stuff
from where she’s fermented it for a few months.”

“Slimy stuff?” Christopher said, his voice slightly fainter,
but he continued to smile at Nova like he desperately wanted her to like him
despite his lack of knowledge of kombucha.

“It looks like afterbirth.”

Nova sat the pitcher on the table and slapped Jesse’s
shoulder scoldingly.

“Now, now, I thought Buddhists were against violence of any
kind?” Jesse laughed.

Nova chuckled too, and poured the tea. “I should warn you it’s
not fruity at all. More vinegary and, since I added ginger to this batch, a bit
gingery.”

Christopher nodded and looked at the glass a little
suspiciously, but then he lifted it and took a game sip. His eyes brightened
and he smiled. “Oh, wow, that’s pretty…strange. But good. I like it.”

Nova was clearly charmed and promptly topped off his glass. “Drink
it all for a healthy liver.”

Christopher took another mouthful and nodded happily at her
as she returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. He caught Jesse’s eye and
smiled shyly. Jesse gave him another reassuring wink.

“Christopher, how is work?” Nova asked.

“Good! I’ve got the back-up lead role for the Christmas
show. Did two earlier today, and the crowds are great. Really enthusiastic!
Always makes me feel amazing when they sing and clap along.”

“Well, you’re quite a performer.” She beamed. “I always
enjoy you.”

“Thank you, m—Nova.”

Jesse lifted his glass in a toast to Christopher’s improved
accepting of compliments, and took a swallow. He coughed slightly. “Holy crap,
Nova, what the hell? This is like fizzy hot vinegar!”

“I let it ferment a little longer than usual. It’s healthier
that way.”

“It’s terrible. Christopher, you don’t need to drink it.”

Christopher shrugged and took another sip. “I guess I like vinegar.”

Jesse chuckled. “Suck up.”

Nova rolled her eyes. “He’s not sucking up. It’s delicious.”
She turned to Christopher and said jokingly, “If only poor Jesse’s taste buds
weren’t spoiled by too much expensive wine.”