“Mr. Grayson Holt, you can go through, sir. The doctor’s waiting for you.”
Grayson had to put force on the minuscule chair’s arms as he got up to prevent the thing from going with him. His size had always been an issue; airplanes, theater seats, even restaurant chairs practically sighed when he approached them. Door frames were no different. He swore they became smaller over the years. Either construction companies wanted to save costs, or the human race was becoming shorter. He was definitely not getting any taller. Older yes, as evidenced by the white-silver fur that seemed to spring up out of nowhere in the center of his chest the last number of full moon cycles.
As he walked the familiar hallway of Dr. Darcy’s office, he took in the gray walls and blue carpeting that had stayed the same since his first visit at the age of six. The only things that had changed were the receptionists. They seemed to get younger by the decade, and doctor Darcy himself?
Now there was a man that wore his age well. Attractive, even in his 70s, Dr. Darcy’s black hair had grayed and eventually turned silver over the years, but no sign of balding. Unlike Grayson, who had been forced to start shaving his scalp around the age of twenty-four. The age wrinkles did appear but not as prominent as most men the doctor’s age, and Doc’s skin, healthy; almost flawless. It was always a welcoming sight to see the doctor on Grayson’s yearly check up. Over the years, they had become more friends than doctor and patient.
“Hank, how’re you today?” Grayson said as he entered the room. He froze. It wasn’t Dr. Darcy sitting in the chair, but a midnight-black, mop of hair bearing charcoal-rimmed glasses and blue eyes, a Greek nose and low cheekbones.
“Where’s Dr. Darcy?” Grayson growled and narrowed his eyes at the handsome, slightly familiar looking imposter. There was no mistake that the stranger and Dr. Darcy looked nothing alike.
“Mr. Holt,” the suave voice spoke, he got out of the chair and extended thin pale fingers, “I am Dr. Darcy—”
“The fuck you are, boy!” Grayson sneered at the doctor.
“As I was saying, I am Dr. Darcy’s temporary stand in. Please, sir, take a seat.” The shit indicated with his hand. Grayson didn’t fail to notice the flash of ink creeping out from under the man’s cuff.
With effort, he walked over and sat. This was just utter bullshit. The last five years, the small town of Herbindy he had grown up in had seen so much change it was heartbreaking. Grayson never did well with change. Big corporations moved in and swept up small businesses that had been in the town’s community for generations. They bought them out and set up chain stores, paying minimum wages and shitty benefits to town folk that had put blood, sweat, and tears into building businesses, only for them to be torn down in a matter of days.
“Are you alright, Mr. Holt?”
“I’m fine!” Grayson snapped, causing the young doctor to flinch.
He pondered an apology but kept his mouth shut. Dr. Darcy had more experience than this snotty punk across from him.
“You really don’t remember me, Mr. Holt?” The Doc said, his voice on the thick side.
That drew Grayson’s attention, only to see the shit flash him a sad smile. “You still don’t smile.”
Grayson glared, his nostril flaring and lips drawing tight. If the doctor opposite him knew Grayson, he would also know not to poke at Grayson’s temper.
Grayson stood, “Can we get this done and over, I have shit to do,” and walked up to the examining bed and pulled off his shirt, causing his nipples to pull tight from the cold air in the room.
“Yes, of course.” The doctor stood and came towards him. “You still own the mechanic shop on Old Sparrow Road, Mr. Holt?” The doctor reached for the stethoscope around his neck. Grayson knew the man was making small talk, but he had a devious plan forming in his head.
“Yes. How naked do you need me, doctor?” Grayson grinned, drawing out the last word slowly.
Calmly, the doctor smiled, placing the ear tips in his ears, and the chest piece over Grayson’s heart.
“Let’s take your heart rate and blood pressure, then see if we need to take matters further. Inhale please.”
The doctor moved the chest piece as Grayson took a breath and exhaled, though, he was beginning to question his own motives. One, the shit wasn’t easily tussled, and two and three, his heart strummed a bit faster to the man’s touch, causing him to spring a semi in his jeans. He blamed it on the fact, that it had been too long since he’s been this close to a man he found attractive.
By the time the doctor took his blood pressure and sugar, Grayson had enough interval to fully take in the man. His breath smelled of sweet butterscotch-mint, the faint scent of citrus clung to the man’s skin, mixed with the doctor’s own aroma. The doctor wasn’t so much little as he was lean. Grayson placed him a foot shorter than himself. The lips very kissable, and the hair just the right length to grasp and skull-fuck, watching those beautiful blue eyes tear and listen to him gag… shit! It really had been a long time since Grayson had some nasty. The evidence strained hard in his pants, and the torture continued when the doctor reached out and explored the skin around his right nipple. Stupid electric sparks squealed down his spine, taking up residence in his over-full and painfully heavy balls at the man’s gentle touch.
Grayson tensed, words of protest ready to blow from his mouth when the doctor spoke.
“Just checking for lumps, Mr. Holt, relax. Breast cancer has been on the increase in men, I’m just covering all areas.”
The doctor removed his hand from Grayson’s right breast and assessed the left.
When done, he reached up feeling the lymph nodes in Grayson’s neck. “You’re very warm, Mr. Holt. Do you have any hot flashes of late? Headaches, trouble sleeping, depression and decrease in your sex drive?” The doctor didn’t even waiver asking, nor looked down at Grayson.
Grayson’s teeth were going to need a fucking dentist if the handsome shit didn’t stop touching his skin anytime soon.
“If you’re askin’ if my dick’s broken, no. I ain’t got no problem gettin’ it up!” Anger, humiliation, and something he couldn’t quite name, burned in Grayson’s cheeks. “Are we quite done, doctor?” he croaked. This shit stranger proclaiming to know him was making Grayson feel nervous. Dr. Darcy would never have fussed with all this nonsense. Grayson wanted out of the room. Now!
“Not quite, drop your pants for me, underwear too.”
Fuckin’ shit! How was he going to explain a full erection?
“Is there a problem, Mr. Holt?” The doctor looked up from the chart he was writing on and met Grayson’s steel gaze.
“No.” And with that Grayson stood, undid his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor. There was no need for underwear since he didn’t bother to wear any, but he wasn’t prepared for his cock getting caught on the hem of the denim, causing his dick to bob up and down. A single pearl of precum dripped from his slit.
Bastard! Fourteen years of using his hand and one intimate checkup with a handsome shit had his dick, not just hard, but slobbering too.
“Oh…” The doctor swallowed, his gazed fixed on Grayson’s cock as it stood hard, veiny and leaking. “I, um…” the doctor’s cheeks burned crimson.
“Problem, doctor?” Grayson gritted.
“No… I can give you a minute to uh—”
“Would you just get it over with?” Grayson snapped, flexing his fist.
The doctor bent before him, turning his head sideways either out of embarrassment or decency. Grayson didn’t want to know and neither did he care as he averted his eyes to the ceiling. His body gave an uncontrolled shudder when trembling fingers cupped his heavy sack. He was seriously going the have a major case of blue balls after this whole visit, all thanks to the sensation of the little shit’s hand on his nuts. Though he had to smirk. He wasn’t the only one being affected.
“I’m going to send you for a testosterone count, just to make sure, Mr. Holt.” The voice coming from down under was taut.
Grayson gloated. He knew he was fucking well hung. Still got it, you old dog!
Before he could take a step back, the doctor stood not only bringing his face inches from Grayson’s, but causing something to brush against Grayson’s cock, drawing a deep silent gape from him. Grayson looked down expecting it to be a hand only to find the doctor’s own pants tenting, and a stain of what Grayson could only assume was his own precum seeping through the man’s khaki slacks.
“I… Eh, sorry,” the doctor said blushing. Grayson had never seen a person manage to flush that bright. The doctor turned around.
“Well, well, well,” Grayson huffed, pulling up his jeans and fastening his belt. “Dr. Darcy’s ‘little stand-in’ has a secret. Isn’t that just—”
“Mr. Holt,” the doctor turned, his eyes appearing darker. “My sexuality has never mattered to my family or Dr. Darcy, and they are quite aware that I take it up the ass. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you’re not going to blackmail me just because I sprang an erection. They happen, sometimes unexpectedly. As with your own.”
Grayson was taken aback by the doctor’s sudden change of demeanor.
“I don’t take kindly to threats or ones toward my family and friends—”
“I wasn’t, never mind, Doc, sorry. You have a good day.”
Grayson snatched his shirt off the bed and advanced to the door.
“Please wait, Mr. Holt.” The defensiveness in the doctor’s tone was gone. Grayson halted as he gripped the door handle, knuckles white from his clutch.
“Please take this with you for the blood test. I made sure with the reception desk not to charge you, I’ll make the same arrangements for the test.”
Great, now the little shit knew he was a poor ass son of a bitch too, what next?
He turned and snatched the document from the doctor, offering him a scowl.
“You have a pleasant day, Mr. Holt.” The little shit gave him a handsome smile.
Grayson would most likely not, nor plan on ever setting foot in that office again.
Eric Darcy couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut nor the rupture to his heart of having his ex not recognize him. Was it possible that after fourteen years he had physically changed so much?
Eric stared at his reflection, only seeing the acne faced kid that had ripped out Grayson Holt’s heart because he got scared when the man mentioned the word love. Who could blame Eric? He had been nineteen, barely out of high school, with his entire life ahead of him. He had planned to move to New York and become a doctor just like his granddad. He sure as hell hadn’t want to be stuck in Herbindy for the rest of his life. The only cost would have been be to break ties with Grayson. There had been no way they were going to make it work long distance, and asking Grayson to pick up his life and leave with Eric wasen’t ever going to happen. What did a dorky teenager know about love anyway? People got over it and moved on…
He had been so trebly wrong, love hurts something bad.
Sighing, Eric splashed some water over his face and dried off with the hand towel. Maybe he was expecting too much. Fourteen-years was a god-long time, and to be completely honest, he did look different; older, manlier. Eric burst out laughing referring to himself as manlier. But he was definitely not the skinny little punk he had been back then anymore. He sure had a more mature mind about him.
If he could go back to that day, there’s a lot he’d said and done that he’d take back and do differently. As with medicine, one doesn’t just ever give up, you look at all possibilities and try the best option.
Try? He didn’t even. He’d made the decision without talking it over with Grayson. Those eyes; hurt, angry and hear-torn, still haunted Eric.
He thought he could forget and move on, but evidence of Grayson was always in his life. The first time he had stepped into one of the gay clubs in NYC, he sought out the biggest hairiest bald man he could find. And it never changed, only the faces did. Each one night encounter reminded him of Grayson, causing him to feel guilty all over again. By the time he had fully realized the mistake he had made, he was too far invested in medical school, and Grayson had warned Eric, he never wanted to see him again.
But true love cuts deep.
Seeing Grayson again after all this time, Eric couldn’t deny what they had shared in the past was love. All those feeling he had pushed down, allowing to pile up inside, slammed him right in the gut when Grayson’s face popped around the office door.
He knew by gay standards Grayson was considered unattractive, but by Eric’s, the man was simply, primal and beautiful. Hence the reason he was enticed with Grayson in the first place. Slightly smaller and less muscled than he remembered, with a bit of a belly, the sleeves of his shirt spanned so tight around the bulging arms Eric thought for a second they button up shirt would tear. Then there was that scowl cutting deep folds over the man’s forehead, bringing his thick brows together and that vein that throbbed in the right side of his forehead. The telltale sign of Grayson being mad as fuck, ready to blow an artery. Because there was only one way to deal with Grayson’s angry mood, suck that wrath right out of Grayson’s fat cock. It had Eric struggling not to drop to his knees and beg the man to forgive him.
He just barely managed to keep himself professional during the entire ordeal.
Grayson’s eyes held pain, resentment, and a bitterness Eric couldn’t remember being there before. He had seen eyes like Grayson’s. Those were the eyes of a stone-cold heart, closed up because someone had gone and broken it.
He was too young and immature to comprehend what it meant for Grayson to open up and declare his heart to Eric. Now, he could understand that simple sentence, “I love you, and I want to be spendin’ my life with ya.”
He wanted to believe, and convinced himself Grayson had gotten over him. The man never did. His grandfather was his only link to Grayson. It had come to a point when his granddad came to visit, that Eric didn’t have to tiptoe around the conversation till the perfect gap popped up so he could casually ask how the man was doing. His granddad would just look at him, and say the same words each time; “He’s doin’ alright, but still hurtin’ and broken after what you did.”
He wanted to fix that and apologize, he just didn’t know how to mend a broken heart, or tell Grayson he wanted the bear back, really-really badly.
It was Saturday night, three days later, and Eric had finally gotten a break from seeing patients. Everyone wanted to meet the new, temporary doctor in town and the little free time he had to himself was spent thinking about Grayson. Sooner or later Grayson would hear from the town’s people that Dr. Darcy’s grandson had stepped in momentarily in his absence, and Eric was terrified of the ripple that news might cause. Grayson wasn’t the easiest man to live with. He did have a vicious temper, not that he ever physically struck Eric or anyone else. More like taking it out on inanimate objects, punching holes in the wall, or have real aggressive and dominating sex. Eric knew the sexual attraction was still there between them and he never could forget how it felt to have Grayson pound into him, grunting and gripping his throat or hair and smashing their lips together. The old memories still managed to pull a shiver from him.
He had just sat down on the coach with a new book and a glass of wine when his phone rang. With a heavy, hearted huff, he stood, picked up his wine glass and answered.
“Eric Darcy, how may I help?”
“You little shit!” Grayson blew out on the other end. “How dare you, Eric! Pretendin’ to be some stand in? What game you playin’, boy? You think I’m amused? You showin’ up to flash your new title, rubbin’ that high cotton shit in my face. I know I’m poor and I ain’t got shit, but really? You tryin’ to prove you were right? Don’t play with me, you fuckin’ kid. I warned you to stay the hella out my life.”
Eric sighed. “Grayson, please. I’m sorry. You were already fuming when you sat down and I didn’t want to upset you further.”
“Well, ain’t that just sweet comin’ from you? Fourteen-years, Eric. Fourteen fuckin’ agonizin’ years. I get you was just a kid, you got scared, and I was an old man givin’ your ass the happy, b—”
“I never said that!” Eric growled. “You weren’t just that, Grayson. You meant more to me than a cock up my ass.”
“Then why’d you do it, Eric. Why’d you have to break my heart?” Grayson paused, Eric heard the man taking a drink and swallowed. “It ain’t been the same after you, all torn up and still fuckin’ bleedin’. Now you show up to what, huh?”
“Grayson, are you drunk?” Eric asked, concern infecting his mind.
“‘Course I’m fuckin’ pissed!” Grayson gritted out. “Took to the bottle after you left, only thing keepin’ me from takin’ a gun to my head.”
“Grayson, where are you?” Jittery, Eric sat the wine glass down and scanned the living room for his car keys. Knowing Grayson, in the state he was in, and being drunk on top of that, he wasn’t thinking straight. He found them on the kitchen counter and walked to the front door.
“Like hell I be tellin’ you where I’m at. You’d just drive your ass up here to Pearls point and—aw shit!”
“Grayson, can I say something, please?”
“You’re coming up here, aren’t ya?” Grayson sighed and took another swallow.
“All ready in the car, Papa Bear.” Eric placed his phone on speaker and pulled out of the driveway.
Grayson growled through the phone.
Keeping the conversation going was all Eric could do to keep Grayson with him. He might have come back home to stand in for his grandfather, but he had also made a promise to the old man, and he was going to keep to it.
“You look well, Grayson.” Eric said as he ran a red light and switched on his emergency flicker.
“Don’t be pissin’ yourself, boy. You on the other hand,” Grayson let out a drunken whistle, “if I’d know it was you, I’d fucked ya there on that cot, boy.”
Eric silently laughed to himself, knowing it was the alcohol talking. Sober Grayson wouldn’t. Sober Graysen would have spanked his ass first.
“Got a hell of a lot more handsome than that scrawny kid you was, probably broke a hell of lot of hearts too.”
Eric held his tongue to the last remark. It might have been true, there were men after Grayson that might have felt more for Eric than just sexual arousal, but Eric didn’t feel anything for them. It always came back to Grayson Holt where matters of his heart were concerned.
He stopped when he saw the large figure in the car’s headlights, standing on the spot overlooking the town. Eric closed his eyes. The man stood in the exact spot Eric gave Grayson his virginity at eighteen.
“Your thinkin’ about that night ain’t ya?” Grayson’s voice droned through the car’s speakers. “It’s the reason you haven’t climbed out yet.”
Eric didn’t respond.
“Still the silent type I see. I come here every night, Eric. Rememberin’ that precious gift. Sweet fuckin’ eighteen you was. All big blue eyes and pink lips, still had them big, round, ugly glasses on your face, and I went and fell in love when you said you’re mine. Fuckin’ lie it was too.”
Eric opened his eyes, his heart starting a frantic rhythm in his chest. He gripped the car door handle and climbed out.
“It wasn’t. I meant it. I wanted it to be you, Grayson. I would never take those words back, or change a thing about that night if I had to do it all over again.” He marching up to the man.
“You stay right there, little boy,” Grayson barked, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, and he swayed from side to side. “You come near me right now, I’ll be fuckin’ you so hard you won’t know which way is up or down.”
Eric didn’t stop, till he stood right in front of the man, glaring up at him. Bloodshot eyes looked back and a strong trace of alcohol hit Eric in the face when Grayson blew out grunt. He reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels in Grayson’s left hand, and to Eric’s surprise Grayson didn’t fight him when he let go of the bottle’s neck.
“Almost a whole bottle, Grayson? You wouldn’t even get it up, much less get it inside me. So stop trying to fool us both.” Eric poured the last bit out on the grass.
“W-what ya d-doin’?” Grayson stuttered when Eric reached for the man’s shirt.
“I’m taking your drunk ass home, that’s what.” Eric grumbled as he pulled Grayson by the shirt towards the car.
“I ain’t got no home no more,” Grayson whispered. Eric stopped causing the titan slam right into him.
The force of the man colliding into Eric threw him off balance towards the ground. Thick forearms and big hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him back.
“Careful,” Grayson whispered, his lips brushing, and spilling their warm breath on Eric’s neck.
Grayson groaned, scraping his teeth against Eric’s skin.
Eric shuddered. “Grayson, we shouldn’t, at least not like this. Not when there’s so much stuff between us that needs to be worked out.”
Grayson tightened his grip on Eric’s waist, “I want ya now, Eric.” Grayson murmured and snapped his hips forward, driving and rubbing his bugle against Eric’s ass.
“Get in the car,” Eric said and tried to peel the steel grip from his waist.
“I ain’t got no place to go, sweetness.”
Eric rolled his eyes. Grayson was really drunk if he started smearing everything with honey.
Eric reached around pressing his hand in between their bodies, giving Grayson a tickle on the gut. Grayson quickly squirmed away and almost fell on his ass.
“No fair you little—”
“Get. In. The. Car. Papa Bear. I’m not repeating myself.”
Grayson turned in the crisp white sheet smelling of sandalwood and lavender, and pressed his face into the pillow. His head hurt something fierce, and his heart ain’t never ticked right again after Eric.
He remembered everything that happened last night. Unlike other normal folks who completely lost what they did binging, he remembered. Prince Charming showing up in his fancy expensive car, Eric saying what he had said, Eric pulling Grayson by his shirt, the sudden jolt he’d felt as Eric stopped in his tracks when Grayson mentioned he had no place to go, and the smell and taste of Eric’s skin. Even worse, he wanted to fuck Eric on the hood of his car as much as he still wanted to wring the little shit’s neck, and that was a hell of a lot.
Grayson was eighteen working in his daddy’s mechanics shop when the four-year old came running in, pointing and asking; “What’s that, where that go, what you doin’, I’m Eric by the way, what’s your name?” All in one breathe without even stopping. Then those little blue eyes looked up at him, cheeks smeared with dirt from God knew where, and Eric smiled. Most people stayed out of Grayson’s way, knowing the random angry outbursts associated with the Holt men, but not that four-year old kid with glasses way too big for his face.
From that day on, every morning the black haired little Darcy would come to the mechanic shop. He shared his sandwiches with Grayson before he went off to kindergarten, which was only three buildings down from the shop. So Grayson felt obliged to walk the kid there, and Eric would reach for Grayson’s grease covered hand every time as they went.
Once Eric started middle school, he still came by the shop some mornings, but he’d always swing by after school. Grayson could hear the cards clicking the spokes in the kid’s little, red bike speeding down the street. Eric would sit at Grayson’s workbench just watching him and his daddy work. Some days staying and doing homework till Eric’s mother had to literally come fetch him to take him home. It amazed Grayson how after all the time Eric spent around him, during the angry outbursts, his cussing and filthy swearing, the kid never picked up his habit.
High school changed things. The visits became less frequent and the times Eric would walk into the shop, it seemed he just grew more and more awkward. Not saying much just staring at Grayson. Then, at the age of sixteen, one afternoon Eric walked in on Grayson fucking Jean Harris. Grayson never saw Eric at his shop again, or spoke to the kid for that matter.
He wasn’t sure if what Eric had seen mortified the kid’s soul to Hell or just made him jealous, because Grayson sure as hell knew Eric had a crush on him since the day Eric could make sense of the word.
Eric was renowned throughout the town for his bright mind. He finished school at seventeen, and there was no mistake he would one day follow in his granddad’s footsteps. It was on Eric’s eighteen birthday, out drinking, when Grayson saw him again. Tall, skinny, still awkward and wearing those big-ass, ugly glasses. But hell, behind all that, there was a real jaw dropper maturing. After they both had had one too many, Eric stood from the barstool where he was sitting with his friends. He’d walked straight up to Grayson among the other rednecks and filthy mouthed bikers, gripped Grayson by the shirt and shoved his tongue in Grayson’s mouth.
Grayson didn’t know what the hell he should do. He was at a bar with a group of men straighter than a steel pole. Then the boys gave them the hoo-ha, and Grayson just gave in. He picked Eric up off the floor, placed him on the bar and went at it, showing the boy how a real man kissed. It was several minutes of face sucking later that Eric pulled away, looked deep into Grayson’s eyes and said, “I really-really like you, Mr. Holt.”
From there, for two months they dated. Well, as close to dating as you would call it sitting with a bunch of knuckleheads, drinking in a bar. None of them ever once shunned Grayson for being gay, nor did the town’s people. And that group of knuckleheads took to Eric like he was their own fucking kid. Even warning Grayson not to break the boy’s heart or they’d be coming for him.
Grayson also knew from that first kiss, Eric was a virgin.
It was Grayson’s thirty-second birthday and they had just finished drinking at the bar when Eric asked him to take him to Pearl Point.
There was something in the air that night. The sky was clear, and millions of stars stared down at the town as they sat on the hill and watched Herbindys’ lights glow.
Eric placed his hand on Grayson’s thigh, “Papa Bear,” Eric whispered.
“Yeah,” he’d said in a gruff tone.
Eric turned on the grass, his hand inching closer to Grayson’s crotch, and Grayson could feel his dick swelling.
Eric pressed his lips to Grayson’s ear, “I want you inside me,” and bit his earlobe.
“Happy fuckin’ birthday, Grayson Bobby Holt!” Grayson shouted. “You know how long I’ve been wantin’ up that ass of yours, bo—” Grayson fell dead silent, when he looked at Eric. The kid’s eyes all big and soft.
He knew in that moment—his heart banged like a drum in his ribcage, his chest swelled, and the warm feeling in his gut got so hot it touched his bones. He felt for the boy, had been for a long time now. Since fucking four-years old.
When Eric kissed Grayson, it was slow, soft and tender. Stealing his damn oxygen at the same time.
He knew Eric loved him back, because no teenager would do their first time this slow, this gentle and calm, unless they felt a hell of a lot in their heart.
For the first time in Grayson’s life, he’d made love to someone.
But last night he wasn’t at Pearl Point to drown his broken heart. Yeah, he was still angry at Eric, hurt too, but to see how far Eric had come in life, actually reached his dream and made a success of himself. Grayson was proud of him. Fuckin’ cried too, you old goat.
He was there drinking, remembering the good times. The things that could have been, and maybe even should have.
Grayson had never been smart enough to get a college education. What he’d knew about cars was self taught and things he’d learned from his old man. When the new auto mechanic shop opened up in town, business ran dry quicker than dew in the desert. There had been the handful of old townspeople that still came by with their ancient cars. The new shop owners considered it better to buy a new one than fix the old. Those could only be fixed so many times, or until the manufacturers stopped making the parts. Over the years as the older folks passed on, things really got bleak for Grayson. So he had become the town’s jack-of-all-trades. A small job here, a plumbing job there, never enough to really sustain him, though, and with new businesses and their college educated workers popping up, Grayson just couldn’t see the work supporting him any longer.
Yesterday morning was when the papaya-shit had hit the fan, as the landlord showed up with two goons wearing tailor-made suits.
“What the hell, Deric! You said I had another month!” he’d shouted, coming down the stairs into the shop.
“Sorry, Gray, times a changin’. They offerin’ me twice what this shithole’s worth.”
“Yeah? What about all my stuff, where am I supposed to go?”
“You got till the end of the day, man. I need the cash, and your stuff ain’t worth nothin’ but shit and bucket rust.”
Grayson couldn’t believe his ears. Deric, a man he’d known since high school, was cutting him.
His daddy had rented the shop from Deric’s old man’s old man, then him from Deric’s old man to Deric. He knew Deric was letting him stay the last couple of months for free.
The two classy goons had surfed the shop. Deric was right, most of the stuff here were rusted old crap that was either never used, outdated or unfixable.
“There’s got to be some way, Deric. Come on, man.” Grayson had pleaded, not something he would normally do lightly, but he had been beyond desperate. Even if he could scrape together enough cash for a storage’s deposit, that didn’t even take into account where he would live, or the time and money it would take to move all the stuff. One day wasn’t much time to do anything. He was truly and utterly screwed.
“Na, sorry, Gray. Can’t you bunk up with one of your cock boys?”
Grayson had flexed his fists and ground his teeth. He knew Deric meant nothing with his words, it was just the way the man spoke, but these weren’t normal circumstances.
“You heard, Doc Darcy’s grandson is here filling in for him. Didn’t you two have a thing goin’ on between yous ?”
Everything had clicked in place and Grayson winced like heaven had just sent the rapture down upon him.
He hadn’t even recognize Eric, not one single bit, not even his voice. It sure explained why he’d had a raging boner and reacted to Eric the way he had.
He’d rushed upstairs, packed whatever he thought was valuable and what could fit into three duffel bags, then rushed back downstairs and placed the bags in his truck.
He’d muttered to Deric to do whatever he wanted with the rest of the stuff and left.
Turning around cringing as his head protested, Grayson sat on the bed. Eric had brought him back to Dr. Darcy’s apartment and set him up in the bedroom while Eric slept on the couch.
The bedroom door was luckily closed, and he wasn’t sure which version of himself would come forth if he opened it. At least he knew whichever decided to manifest, Eric could handle him.
Grayson’s anger always ate away at him, causing guilt in his gut. When they had been together, Eric knew what to do; undress, go to his knees and let Grayson have his fill of his mouth, or hole… both if needed. Grayson had always felt remorseful afterwards, Eric didn’t deserve that. Not the sweet innocent kid Eric had been back then, and neither the one in the front of the apartment that had ripped out his heart.
A knock on the door had him bolted upright and cursing from the pain it caused in his skull.
“Grayson, you awake? I got you some painkillers and breakfast,” Eric said then kept quiet.
Grayson sighed, he couldn’t hide forever. Standing naked, he walked to the door and flung it wide open, folding his arms across his chest.
He shouldn’t have done that, clear as day, the bare chested beauty stood with a glass of orange juice and a bottle of Ibuprofen in hand. He couldn’t be bothered with that, ’cause the lean upper body, heavily sculpted and taut muscles flexing with every movement in front of him, had his cock stirring.
Eric’s chest hair curled from his groin in the same midnight black as on his head. Unlike Grayson’s, that wildly grew every-fucking-where, Eric’s sprouted thick from the middle of his torso, creating a dark silken river to his navel, curling around his small belly button. The rest of the little shit’s skin, lightly padded with soft hair, beautifully black against pale muscled flesh. The striking sleeve on Eric’s left arm went from his shoulder down to his wrist, decorated in black and red roses. In between, a ribbon stretched and curled, holding the names of people Grayson didn’t know. Dark-blue lounge pants spanning tightly around Erick’s long, muscular legs, accentuating each fold and curve as a second skin that hung on Eric’s hips, exposing the V shape of his lower abdomen, and part of his bush. Grayson went full hard.
Reaching for the orange juice and the pain tablets, he growled, “Don’t you fuckin’ grin, you little shit! Any gay man would be fuckin’ hard; wakin’ up with you standin’ there half naked in the mornin’.” He popped the cap of the bottle and shook two tablets into his palm, and downed it with a gulp of orange juice, not once letting his eyes off Eric’s frame. Well aware of the shit’s cheeks flaring red.
“Breakfast, then me and you are gone have a serious talk, and if I’m up for it,” Grayson breathed hard and narrowed his eyes, “I’m gone fuck you, Eric. Am I makin’ myself clear?”
Eric nodded, gooseflesh running over his skin, causing his small nipples to swell into beautiful, little pink nubs. Grayson had to force himself from taking Eric right there. Even more so as the cotton material showed a firm ass when Eric turned and walked to the kitchen.
Grayson ate, watching Eric where he sat across from him. Eric was avoiding Grayson’s gaze and playing with the drawstrings on his PJ’s.
Soaking up the last bit of yolk with a piece of toast, Grayson placed it in his mouth and pushed his empty plate forward.
Eric looked up, guilt hefty in his eyes.
“You’re gonna talk and tell me why you did what you did, boy and—”
Eric pushed in, “Grayson, I’m sorry. Back then I —”
“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!” Grayson droned.
Eric looked down at the table.
“You’re gonna do it while seated on my lap, lookin’ me straight in the eyes, Eric. Because I wanna see them eyes of yours, and you will not hide your gaze from me. Do you understand?”
Slowly Eric bobbed his head and stood.
Walking, he came to stand right next to Grayson. The shit looked nervous, all twitchy with his wrist and rapid movement of his throat as he swallowed.
Grayson pushed the chair out, and spread his thighs, slapping his right thigh, “Up you come, boy.”
Eric stepped in between Grayson’s legs and placed one over Grayson’s left thigh and the other over his right. Before Eric could sit his ass down, Grayson gripped him by the waist, pulled him into his lap and planted his dick right underneath Eric’s ass.
Eric looked up at the ceiling, biting his bottom lip as his jaw quivered.
“You fightin’ back tears, boy?” Grayson reached out, wrapping his fingers around Eric’s neck, and gently squeezed, “You ain’t never be hidin’ shit from me before, why start now?”
A sob raked through Eric and it stung in Grayson’s heart.
“Look at me, baby,” Grayson said softly, running his finger up and down the back of Eric’s neck, “I am mad, yeah. Hell of a lot pissed, but we needs to do this. For both of us.”
Swiping the tears from his face, Eric took a deep breath and looked at Grayson.
“I was young and I was stupid. I didn’t know what was happening between us, what I was feeling, and I got scared, Grayson. I had my whole life in front of me, and I didn’t understand what I was feeling for you.”
“Yeah, you was young, but you was no stupid, Eric.”
Eric blinked down at Grayson.
“Stupid be if you chose a man over your dreams.”
“Grayson, I didn’t—” Grayson placed his finger to Eric’s lips.
“I am mad at you for not talkin’ to me, Eric. For just tellin’ me off and leavin’, that’s why I’m mad. It was no easy watchin’ you go, fuck, lettin’ you go. I was hurtin’ like hell over you all these years. Angry at myself too. Should have never said what I said. But that’s just me being stubborn and angry. I ain’t never forgot what we had, but you should have talked, boy.”
“You would have never given up your life for me, it wouldn’t have worked between us.”
“Wouldn’t? Why not, eh, Eric? You think because you’re smarter than me you could make a decision without me?” Grayson thundered, and stood, pushing Eric off his lap and against the table.
He was angry, now he was just plain furious at the shit.
“How dare you!” Grayson shouted, his blood pulsing in his head, feeling his face redden.
“You think so little of me? Is it because I’m a mechanic? Because I don’t have the brain matter of a genius? Because I’m dirty, oily man fixin’ cars?” Grayson started pacing back and forth. Eric went pale in the face.
“Grayson, that’s not what I meant,” Eric stepped up to him, reaching to grab his forearm.
Grayson pushed him off. “You thought I couldn’t provide for you, find a job? Or you thought going to the big city with your smart brain, having a boyfriend as dumb as a pig would shame you?”
“No! Goddamnit, no!” Eric’s body went tence.
“Then why?” Grayson marched up to Eric and glared him in the face, his knuckles popping at his sides.
“Because—” Eric’s phone went off, vibrating on the counter top.
“Answer me, Eric!” Grayson roared.
Eric ignored him, and snatched his phone and answered.
Grayson stood still, too fuming to move. Eric thought he was dumb, thought he couldn’t make an intelligent decision, just like all the other motherfuckers in town. Thought he was a good for nothing piece of shit, that the only good thing about him was his dick. Everything else was more important than him, even the man he loved… hell the only man he loved thought a phone call was more vital than him! He turned his back to Eric, marching to the bedroom to get dressed and get the hell out of there. He didn’t care where he would go, or end up, as long as he never saw Eric fucking Darcy again.
He froze when he heard Eric sob, not just some sob, a heart wrenching, painful sob.
He stepped out into the living room as Eric slipped on a T-shirt and some pull-on shoes. Tears glistened against Eric’s cheeks, his hands were shaking, fingers just plain dumb and not working with his brain.
“Eric, what’s wrong?”
Eric looked up. Fucking hurt in that boy’s handsome face. Grayson’s gut turned in on itself.
“Nothing,” Eric sniffed and swiped at his cheek with his hand.
“I just… I need to be alone.” Eric snatched the keys off the coffee table and rushed out the door.
Grayson stepped back into the kitchen and reached for Eric’s phone, dialing back the last number.
“Hello… Eric?” The woman said on the other end.
“Mrs. Darcy?” Grayson immediately recognized Eric’s mother’s voice.
“Grayson? Is that you?” She asked her own voice brittle and strained.
“Yes, ma’am, it is Grayson,” he stuttered, fearing what the woman would say.
“Oh, Gray, are you with Eric? He shouldn’t be alone right now. Dad passed away a few seconds ago, and you know how much that man meant to Eric.” She sobbed, and started pleading with Grayson. “Please, just look after him, till I get there. Please, Grayson.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that.” Grayson placed the phone down with a trembling hand, and butt naked slammed down on the kitchen floor.
Dr. Darcy died.
He didn’t know what to make of it. Yeah, Doc was old, but he was healthy, wasn’t he? He’d seen him a couple of weeks ago, as fit a fiddle; still joking and being all Casanova around the ladies, and now… he was just gone.
Grayson sat for a several minutes, knowing he should be going after Eric, but he couldn’t. Hank was Eric’s entire world, his mentor after Eric’s father passed away, and also one of the only people in Herbindy that never avoided Grayson for being a mean pissed off troll. Hank actually took the time to stop and ask him how he was doing whenever they bumped into one another around town, other townsfolk would only nod and go the opposite direction.
And now, his boy was hurting, Hank had said to Grayson once upon a time; “Gray, when I’m gone, I’m passin’ the cradle to you, and you better damn well look after my grandson, or I’m hauntin’ your ass. Regardless if he broke your heart, you will, because you two never stopped lovin’ each other, just placed yourself through your own hell. Love does that sometimes, to appreciate what we once held dear. But you’ll get together, or die tryin’.”
Grayson stood. Hank was right, if Grayson was stupid it was because he allowed his anger to get the better of him once again. He walked to the bedroom, but stopped once he saw his three duffel bags resting against the living room wall, and his truck’s keys on the coffee table. Smiling, he felt downright giddy that Eric went and fetched his truck. Knowing Eric, the way he was, Grayson wouldn’t be surprised if he’d called Deric and arranged for all Grayson’s stuff at the shop to be taken to storage.
Eric sniffed in his grandfather’s chair, trying to fight back another onslaught of tears.
He’d feared that phone call, knowing it wasn’t far away. Eric was vaguely aware Grayson was saying something when he reached for the phone upon seeing his mother’s name flash. She didn’t need to say anything, he knew by her crying on the other end.
Why he was at the office escaped him. It hurt too much to think, it hurt too much to look at the room were grandpa’s diplomas hung, and the pictures of the family on his desk. The old piece of clay art Eric had made when he was five still parked on the west shelf. And the damn chair with granddad’s white coat, hanging over the back, that still smelled like him.
His Granddad was his everything; mentor, father. His best friend.
Thanks to Granddad, along with his fascination with biology, Eric already had a vast understanding of the medical world when he went to college at the age of nineteen. Completed his undergrad at age twenty-one, finished medical school at the age of twenty-five, and received his medical degree as a General Practitioner at twenty-eight. He had been working in a private practice in NY ever since, and all that thanks to his grandfather and his acquaintances.
They’d kept Granddad’s heart attack quiet, because he wanted it that way. Granddad had come to visit not a week ago in NY when it happened, and the old man still joked that he’d been lucky it wasn’t in front of one of his patients.
Eric’d reacted quickly when the old man gripped his chest, the glass of bourbon falling from his hand, splattering on the floor. Screaming for his mother to call an ambulance, he rushed to granddad’s side, ready to place him in the recovery position, yet by the time he reached him, Granddad wasn’t breathing, and Eric was forced to perform CPR. Eric had never felt more fear in his life, his hands had been shaking, and his limbs didn’t want to do what his brain had been telling them to. He’d managed though, getting his Granddad’s heart beating again. He could hear the siren coming down the street, and even then, while the old man had laid in pain, he whispered to Eric, “Proud of you, boy. Take care of them, and go fix things with the man you love.” He’d kept quiet after that and Eric stepped away as the paramedics came in, tears tracking down his cheeks. He watched as they’d placed a resuscitator over Granddad’s face, hoisted him on a stretcher and took him to the hospital.
The following day he had been on a plane to Georgia, as per request from his grandfather. The doctor to take his place would be arriving next week. Though Eric grew up in Herbindy, his whole life was now in New York City, his friends and family. But it raised a question in Eric’s heart after he had seen Grayson on his check up. If he could fix things with Grayson, would he give it all up for the man? He wasn’t certain if he could go back and continue living with this hole in his heart, and he had silently made a promise to himself and his Granddad; that he would at least try to apologize. That not only backfired on him, and caught him off guard, but blew up in his face by saying the wrong things.
He couldn’t walk away from Grayson even if he tried this time, because he knew now what those feelings were and still are.
From the age of four, what he could remember, the gruff-grumpy mechanic had always intrigued him.
Eric couldn’t understand why people stayed out of Mr. Holt’s way, unless they needed their car fixed, and Granddad had always said there’s two ends to a sausage.
So when Granddad, took his car in for a fix, Eric had went with, determined to see if the Boogieman really did existed. People in Herbindy had always scared their kids, telling them they’d take them to Mr. Holt, The Boogie Man— “He’ll lock you away, and you will never see the light of day again.”
It wasn’t a monster standing in the mechanic shop, but a ginormous giant. Eric had never seen a man so big in his entire life; big head, thick and massive arms, and as tall and wide as a building. Nervous he’d started asking what Mr. Holt was doing, pointing at random things and asking what they were for, then asked the man’s name.
“I’m the Boogieman,” Mr. Holt had grunted, and Eric had smiled at the big brown eyes under hooded eyebrows. There had been something different about Grayson Holt. He hadn’t felt vulnerable in his presence. Eric felt safe.
It was the day Grayson walked him to kindergarten that Eric decided he wanted to be Mr. Holt’s friend. The Boogieman wasn’t scary, he just looked scary, cursed and drank a lot. Other than that, he was practically harmless.
At the age of thirteen Eric had become aware his feelings of admiration had changed into something he couldn’t understand, and something was happening to his body as he’d watched Mr. Holt work. Big muscles flexing, sweat trickling down his scalp and soaking into the denim of his overalls. The smell of beer, oil and sweat—the smell of Grayson, always stayed with him.
At fourteen he knew he had a crush on the man. Till the age of sixteen, when he caught Grayson doing another man, saw his sweat drenched ass flex, bum-fluff sticking to his skin, slamming into Mr. Jean Harris.
Grayson had threw his head back and growled an animalistic sound Eric could feel down to his toes, and definitely feel in his throbbing dick. As Grayson had pulled out of the man’s ass and turned, Eric froze, going red in the face at seeing the size difference to his own dick. Mr. Holt wasn’t just long, but fat thick beef, sporting a silver something, as his cock was wrapped up in a condom full with cum. Eric had turned on his heels and ran, embarrassed and jealous. He had wanted to be the one causing Mr. Holt to make those noises and feel the man’s dick thrust in and out of his ass.
He never returned, too scared he might overstep the boundary of friendship.
On his eighteenth birthday, his friends had took him out drinking at the local bar. He saw Mr. Holt again, with the town’s biker club. It might have been the alcohol they had quietly stolen, or Grayson’s dark eyes that had been glaring at him all hungry and lustful, or he’d just wanted to sign his own death warrant, but he’d marched up to him and had pressed his mouth over Grayson’s. For a second nothing had happened, then the uproar had came from the on looking bikers. The next thing he knew, he was off his feet and on top of the bar, mouth being eaten by a hot, alcohol drenched breath and tongue. Eric had took what he got and felt Grayson push his hard bulge against his thigh. It had continued for two months till Eric knew he wanted Grayson to be the one. That night at Pearls Point, with Grayson deep inside him, touching a spot that caused the world to shake beyond Eric’s imagination, he’d found a different side to the man.
The first time Eric had came face-to-face with Grayson’s angry outbursts was seeing the man hit a hole in a plywood wall, he had gotten shit scared. Instead of running, he’d reached for Grayson’s bleeding knuckles, gazed up into the man’s dark eyes and gently asked him what he needed.
“You naked, on your knees takin’ my fuckin’ cock!” And Eric had. He’d realized at that moment he would, if he could, do nearly anything for Grayson.
Grayson not only made good use of Eric’s mouth, but his ass too. After, when Grayson had finally calmed, he made love to Eric’s lips with his mouth and had slowly stretched Eric’s hole with his cock a second time.
Two weeks after his nineteenth birthday, and several angry episodes later, Grayson had whispered into Eric’s ear. “I love you, and I want to be spendin’ my life with ya.” Eric froze, his mind running a mile a second in a million directions. He knew he loved Grayson, but never could bring himself to say it to the man. Instead, he’d ran, leaving things unsettled between them and the mess they were in now.
Eric lifted his head from his forearms and gazed out the window. Shadows crawled up on Herbindy ready to drown the town in night.
He sighed and stood to switch on the lights when his ears picking up a loud rumbling coming down the street. It grew louder and louder, then died right in front of the office. It was seconds later when he heard Grayson yell his name outside the front door and try to open it. Of course it was locked, and he heard the much expected curse from the man. Then the door rattled with so much force it sounded like hell had opened up beyond it.
“You little shit! You open this damn door, or I break it open!”
Eric was halfway down the hallway when the door burst open wide, splinters ripped and exploded from the lock assembly and latch.
“Get your ass over here, right now!” the bear grunted, his chest heaving, veins pulsing at the side of his head and his fists just plain shaking mad by his hips.
They met in the middle of the waiting room, Grayson gripped him on the shirt, pushing him up against the wall and kicked his legs apart. Pressing his groin into Eric’s.
“Grayson, what are you doing?” Eric’s voice was barely a whisper, his blood rushing loud and fast in his ears.
“Ain’t trying nothin’. We hurtin’ somethin’ bad, boy. Just wanna fix it, ’cause I ain’t losin’ the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Eric’s breath hitched in his throat. His pulse and heart going off like a nuke.
“Your granddaddy went up and died on you, he was your world, and he never stopped shuttin’ up about that shit, sayin’ you this and that. Sayin’ how proud he is.”
Grayson stared into Eric’s eyes, and Eric stared back, aware of a fresh set of tears running down his cheeks.
Those eyes deepened with hunger, when Grayson spoke, his voice hoarse and strained.
“I ain’t no good with words, Eric, never was. Got no rich ass bank account or shit I can offer you, things you deserve. I ain’t neither the smartest man, but, boy, fuck me if I’m gone let you slip by.” The bear paused, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and looked at Eric again.
“So I’m gone say it how it is; I want you back. Want you in my bed and make it our bed, wanna hold you tight and climb up in all over that warm firm ass you been sportin’. Wanna fuck you open. Wanna fuck you apart, then right back again.”
Eric. Swallowed. Hard.
“And stop with the fuckin’ cryin’. That shit just makin’ me wan—” Eric kissed him and Grayson kissed back.
“Yeah.” Grayson said, holding a smile like the crow that stole the cheese.
“Gramp’s funeral is on Saturday, you are going to be there by my side?”
“Yeah, boy. Be holdin’ your fuckin’ hand too.”
“And I’m sorr—”
“Boy!” Grayson growled in a raw voice. “I know you sorry, we been trying to move past this and it just makin’ us both say the wrong things, let’s just move on, be in the now, past forgiven and forgotten. You’ve been lovin’ on me since you’ve been four, and God ain’t stupid. If he wants two people to be together, him gone make it happen, come hell or high water. It’s them people being stupid, contemplatin’ on them feelings and bad shit they left between them, you gotta let it go, I got to let it go.”
Eric’s head rolled back as he laughed softly. Leave it up to Grayson to bring God into a conversation about two homo’s being together. He swiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand.
“Gray,” Eric whispered, “you’re not dumb. You’re the smartest man I know, a university degree can’t hold shit against you when it comes to life.” Grayson face went granite, but his eyes soften.
“I’m staying, Grayson, for you, for us. I’ll take over granddad’s practice. Would that make you happy?”
Grayson went quiet, his eyes taking in Eric’s gaze for a moment.
“Fuck Yeah! But you ain’t dressin’ me up in those whoo-dick rich boy clothes, you feel?”
“I love you, Grayson Bobby Holt. Always have and always will, even with your bad temper.”
“I’ll get it fixed some how’s, go to them anger management classes. Can’t live with that shit, knowing how I misuse you as a fuck bag for my anger.”
“Well, maybe we could get you a punching bag? Besides, I like angry-aggressive Grayson pounding my ass as much as I like Papa Bear making love to me, but what I don’t like is you hurting yourself over it, that really tears me up, Gray.”
“Eric,” Grayson whispered, leaning in for a kiss. Eric knew damn well what to say to make Grayson’s heart thunder like a herd of buffalo speeding down a hill.
“You smell…” The little shit said.
Grayson looked down at his dirty shirt, gave a sniff and grinned.
“Not smellin’ anythin’, boy. I’m a dirty old man.”
“Good,” Eric growled and slammed his lips to Grayson.
While Eric cupped the sides of Grayson’s face, tongues and lips clashing, sucking and eating away at each others mouth’s, Grayson reached down undoing Eric’s lounge pants. He needed inside the little shit and to claim him right now, or he was going to blow like a shitstorm. When Eric caught on to his pants being pressed down past his hips, he pulled away from the kiss.
“Grayson, people will see,” he moaned into Grayson’s neck, kicking his PJs and shoes off.
“Ain’t givin’ no two shits who sees. If I’m gone be the one with you, I’m gone wanna show off the man on my arm, parade him around like I fuckin’ own that shit, and I do own that shit. You got me, boy? I’m gonna fuck you, spank you too for all those men bein’ up in my territory.”
Response came with groans, and teeth nipping at Grayson’s neck, lips caressing and pulling skin. A shudder of pure primal need rocked through Grayson’s body, he never wanted Eric so badly.
“Condoms!” Grayson rasped in a sharp breath when Eric nuzzled his Adam’s apple, grabbing the skin between his teeth.
“Don’t need them,” Eric sneaked his finger up under Grayson’s shirt and explored the forest of hair on his belly, “took care of that when I sent your blood off for testing.” The little shit’s lips were back against his neck, all teasing and causing Grayson’s cock to throb with animalistic want.
“Lube?” Grayson growled, dry humping against Eric’s thigh.
“Fuck it. Want you inside me.” Eric’s finger venturing closer to his nipples.
“Boy!” Grayson snatched those roaming hands from under his shirt, and pinned them against the wall, next to Eric’s head and glowered into Eric’s eyes. “We’re gonna fuckin’ need it.”
“Butter. Kitchen, because you can’t have too much butter.”
“You little—” Eric squirmed as Grayson pulled him against his body, wrapping his arms around the man and awkwardly, with his denims spanning at his thighs, walked into the petite kitchen of the office.
“This is fuckin’ dirty.” Grayson growled and smirked. Butter on his dick, butter on his finger now up in that warm ass. Fucking butter dripping from his balls.
“I thought you liked dirty, Papa Beaaarrr!” Eric voice went a high pitch when Grayson found his prostate and gave it a harsh stroke.
Eric breathed again when Grayson pulled his fingers back.
“I call it improvising.” Eric gritted through his teeth.
Grayson shoved three fat fingers back up inside Eric, watching his pretty blue eyes roll back in their sockets, head pressed against the cabinet. Eric’s sweet, soft lips parted and trembled, trying to gulp down air and moan at the same time.
“Fuckin’ adorable!” Grayson slammed his mouth down on Eric’s offered throat.
“Wait till I’m fuckin’ you, boy!” Grayson pulled his fingers out, needing too much to feel Eric’s hole clamp down on his cock. He positioned his dick at Eric waiting entrance, and rubbed his cockhead and PA against the quivering nub.
“Grayson, please!” Eric cried out, trying to breach the connection, pushing back on Grayson’s cock.
Grayson gave it to Eric, slowly sliding in, feeling warm, silky heat clamp down around his girth, and began plowing into Eric.
Eric gripped the edge of the counter top, his throat burning to scream at the fat pleasure pole sliding in and out of him, only silent gasps escaped his mouth. Grayson was folding him in half, plunging inside Eric, his legs draped over the bear’s shoulders. Thick fingers caressed Eric’s hairy thighs, causing sparks to go off over his skin. He didn’t care if his ass burned, rubbed red on the melamine surface of the counter top, nor if he was going to walk funny for the next couple of days, or that he would have a back strain from the position he was in. Nothing mattered when the bear’s mouth clamped over his and kissed him, attempting to steal his very soul and Eric would let the man.
He reached for his own hard dick, stroking himself to the rhythm of Grayson’s fucking.
“Baby! Oh fuck, the bear’s gone blow!” Grayson threw his head back roaring as he spilled melted-heat inside Eric’s canal, not once stopping his penetration, even though Grayson shuddered with each burst and thrust. Eric’s own eruption took him by surprise meeting him in the mouth, face and the cabinet above his head.
Grayson growled, drawing Eric’s gaze back to him, and leaned forward, taking Eric’s mouth with his, sharing the cum on his lips.
“You gonna be the end of me, boy.” Grayson puffed, a dreamy smile on his face.
“What the hell, Eric Hank Darcy!” Eric’s mother shouted from the kitchen archway.
Yeah, what the hell! Eric thought and buried his flaming face against Grayson’s hairy chest as his whole body seared in a blush.
Three months later
Sweat, dribbled from Grayson’s face, sopping from his nose, chin and cheeks.
He looked at Eric beneath him, Eric’s left bicep wrapped in Clingfilm where it rested above his head on the mattress, wrists cuffed to the headboard. In between the black and red rose sleeve where the ribbon stretched and curled, holding the names of Eric’s mother, father and grandfather and the words, Be brave. Love unconditionally and love who you love. The empty spot on the ribbon, still needed to be filled, that now was covered. Each time Grayson looked at the boy, his heart soared that such a beautiful man still wanted him, and only him.
“Yeah, baby, I’m yours, only yours.” Eric said, grinning, “Take off the plastic, Papa Bear.”
Gingerly Grayson started to peal the wrap from Eric’s arm.
“Eric.” Grayson gasped in shock, his chest drew tight and his eyes strained in their sockets at what was revealed as a new tattoo. A tear ran down Grayson’s cheek.
In bold letters stood, Mr. G. HOLT. Grayson bit his lip, his vision blurred as his heart chipped away at his ribcage.
He just started, whimpering and shaking, and cried like a fucking kid.
“Little shit!” Grayson sobbed, then hissed when Eric’s cock slid out of him and planted his ass on Eric’s chest.
Grinning from above Eric, and flashing his teeth, Grayson gripping his cock at the base in his right hand, he pulled Eric’s bottom lip down with his left thumb. He brought his fat dick to Eric’s mouth, slapping him on the lips with it.
Eric knew, he was going to gag being skull hammered by the bear, and he loved every second of his lover’s assault
Eric opened wide for the offered dick closing his lips around the warm angry pole and sucked. Not that he needed to, but the extra friction and the sound Grayson would be making was worth it.
Grayson grasped a hand full of Eric’s hair, and leaned forward. The bear began his assault, growling and driving his dick down Eric’s throat. Saliva pooled out over Eric’s mouth where it got free, sticking to that big sac slapping Eric on the chin. Grayson was an animal, power driving away at Eric’s mouth. This time it wasn’t done in anger, but in the simple need to state claim over Eric as his property.
“Love you, Baby!” Grayson grunted snapping his hips faster. Tears dribbled from Eric’s eyes, yet he forced to keep them open, staring at the bear’s handsome face.
Grayson pulled out, threw back his head and white jets burst forth as the bear roared above Eric, cum hitting him in the face, hair, and mouth—practically covering him in sticky white warm goo.
Breathing heavily, Grayson gave a shake of his body, leaned over Eric on his hands and started licking cum from Eric’s face, feeding it back to him.
“Baby?” Grayson said, in between sharing.
“I gotta ask you somethin’.”Another tongue full of cum was offered to Eric and he took it.
“Yes, Papa Bear.” Eric licked his lips.
“I gotta do it. Gotta do right by you.”
Eric froze, his forehead wrinkled taking in Grayson’s face, a wetness in the tender, loving brown eyes.
“Would you be mine, Eric? Would…” The bear swallowed, and Eric swallowed harder.
“Would you be come Mr. Eric, Hank Holt?”
Eric just stared. Blown out of his mind. Slowly his lips broke into a smile and as the Boogieman would say.
“Fuckin’ yeah!” Eric slammed their sticky lips together.