Best Laid Trap (2 page)

“All from skiing?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“And rescuing,” he replied. “Hero shit.” He said it with a straight face and then laughed, his finely etched belly contracting as he did so. It was quite a sight to see.
He
was quite a sight to see. Naturally, I saw. “Your turn,” he added.

I nodded. Down went my slacks, my boxers pulled right along with them, that crowbar of mine at last freed from its confines, leaving me in nothing but my socks and a bright, wide smile.

“Whoa,” he coughed. “You come with your own kickstand.”

I grinned. “Emphasis on the come. And yes.” I pointed at the elephant in the room, namely, his stretched-to-the-limits underwear. “Your turn.”

Down they went in an all-fired hurry. He kicked them off. That elephant of his came charging. At me. Goody for me. And so there we soon stood, two naked men except for our socks, wrapped tightly together, swapping some heavy spit as our cocks dueled it out below.

Strangers? Sure, but did I really know Steve? I mean, fine, I had sniffed his underwear, but did I really
know
him? Weirdly, in the case of Josh, the instantaneous connection trumped the issue. It actually felt like I’d known him forever, not just the last few minutes of the last few hours of the year. Odd? Okay, but everything about this weekend was odd, so this was just par for the course. This, in fact, was a hole in one.

And speaking of holes….

We fell to our knees atop a threadbare area rug in front of the fireplace. It was hotter there. And if things got any more so, that cabin would’ve needed a serious sprinkler system. His mouth worked my mouth, our tongues wrestling it out, his hands roaming my back and mine his rock-hard ass, which was covered in the same soft fur as the rest of him.

I wanted to feel every bit of him, taste every inch, suck and suckle and lick and lap at each peak and valley that dotted his glorious landscape. Which is why, when at last we came up for air, I asked, “Um… mind if I check out the backside?”

He smiled and licked my lips before winking and dropping to all fours. “Check away.”

“My hero,” I quipped.

He nodded and spread his legs wide, balls dangling, cock hovering. “Told you so.”

I knee-crawled to his rear, then let my hands roam his lower back, my fingers running through the soft brown pelt. Down I moved my digits, tracing the crack and prying it apart to see his hair-rimmed, pink puckered hole winking out at me. Lower still I let my fingers travel, feeling the grooves of his ball sac, tickling the fine hairs that sprouted there, and grabbing his balls with my right hand for a pull and a tug. He moaned softly as I yanked, arching his back and tossing his head to the side.

Beautiful, so fucking beautiful. It hurt to look at him. It hurt worse to look away. Suddenly I knew what a moth felt like when it encountered a flame. Sure, it died a horrible death, but what a spectacular way to go!

I leaned further down, nose to hole, and breathed him in, the heady scent of musk and sweat and a trace of soap wafting up my nostrils. My cock bounced and throbbed. I darted my tongue out for a cursory lick, a lap around the track, before diving in to crash his pearly gates, tasting the sex of him. Again he moaned, again arching his back and thrashing his head.

“
Fuuuck
,” he groaned rapturously.

I backed my mouth away and admired my work, observing my saliva trickling down and around his balls. “You wanna? Fuck, I mean?”

His face turned in profile. “Cabin come with protection?”

I shook my head. “Nope, but I did.” I backtracked a bit, not wanting to seem as brazen as I actually was. “You know, just in case.”

“In case of what?” he asked.

“Horny yeti.”

“Ah,” he said with understanding.

“Yeah, ah,” I repeated in return. “So do you? I mean, wanna?”

His wink returned with a vengeance. “Nice way to ring in the New Year.”

Which was about as gross an understatement as ever I’d heard. Of course I didn’t argue. Especially since my mouth was once again busy, sucking and slurping on his hole with wild abandon, one free hand tugging his balls, the other stroking his mammoth prick as it hovered above the wooden floorboards.

“Can two play at this game?” he soon panted.

I broke from my ministrations. “I thought two were.”

I knew what he was getting at, though, so a moment later we were happily sixty-nining, his pulsing cock down my throat and mine down his, my hands massaging his muscle-dense thighs as a happy gagging tear streamed down my cheek. All the while his more-than-capable mouth worked wonders on my prick while his fingers were seemingly everywhere at once: on my balls, on my butt, on my belly and bush. The floor was creaking beneath us now, until I was certain the cabin would fall in on itself at any moment. It and me both.

The fire crackled, the embers casting our shenanigans in a bright orange glow. I released his prick from my mouth and swung back around, our bodies again pressed together and our mouths as well. Here was a stranger who felt anything but. Perhaps the Baby New Year was simply having fun with us. Still, I wasn’t complaining. Dripping and leaking, sure. Pulsing and throbbing, yep. But complaining? No sir, no how.

“You feel good,” he hummed into my mouth.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” More or less. Mostly more.

I could’ve kissed him forever, but then again I didn’t know what fucking him would be like and was eager to find out. The way he was devouring my mouth and tugging on my prick, I think he felt the same way. And so I disentangled myself from his arms and legs and tongue, then hopped up, prick swaying to and fro as I retrieved the lube and rubber.

Upon my speedy return, I found that he was already on his back, his legs wide and the grin once again in full force. A guy could get lost in that grin, in the liquid hazel eyes that reflected the fire’s glow. I paused to stare at him, momentarily forgetting to breathe as he shifted and made his cock sway from left to right, its wide helmeted head glistening as he did so.

“What?” he asked, clearly wondering why I was all of a sudden frozen to the spot.

I shook off my torpor. “You always this beautiful?”

He laughed. “Only during the holidays. Otherwise, nah, not so much.”

I doubted it. Still, I wasn’t about to argue. Instead I again sank to my knees, praying at his altar, at the holy trinity of asshole and cock and balls. I tore open the packet and slid the rubber down and around my steely stiffy. Then I lubed up my prick and spread a generous amount around his tender chute. I craned my neck down and suckled on his mast of a cock as I gently slid a gooey finger in and up and back. He sucked in his breath, his ring tightening around my intruding digit, but then he exhaled and relaxed. I had a second finger join the fray as I worked my mouth down to the base of his prick. He moaned, his body quaking as my fingers worked their pumping magic.

“Happy New Year to me,” he said with a heavy sigh.

My back again went vertical. “If you play your cards right, I can fuck you right into the next year.”

“I always was good at cards,” he retorted, grabbing ahold of his thick prick, which he slowly jacked away on as I lined my cock up with his hole.

“Ranger, hero, card player,” I made note. “You’re a real Renaissance man.”

He nodded. “I’m pretty good at picking men, too.”

“Add sweet talker to the list.”

“Already on the résumé.”

I laughed, then pushed my cock inside. Again he sucked in his breath. To be fair, so did I. When again I pushed, another inch disappearing, a million tingles ran up and down my spine, exploding throughout my limbs, the fifth limb dead center included. He was tight. I was large. It was a match made in heaven.

“
Fuuuck
,” he groaned yet again, louder this time—loud enough to shake me to the core as I pushed further in, further still, until all seven thick inches were firmly entrenched up his hole and my balls were brushing his furry backside.

“
Fuuuck
,” I echoed, falling into him as he craned up into me, our mouths making 3-2-1 contact in a white-hot second. I felt my head spin upon impact, my cock going in reverse before pumping in again. Out, in, all the way out, hovering before jamming home again, then deep, deep, deep inside until it was impossible to tell where he ended and I began.

He picked up the jacking speed on his prick. He was close. I was close. The end of the year was close. Still, I didn’t want it to end—not just yet—so I grabbed his hands and held them firmly by his sides. His cock remained at rapt attention. I left mine buried in his farthest reaches. He looked up at me. I looked down at him. We were tied together now, literally and figuratively, cock to hole and soul to soul.

I fucked him slowly then. Slow and steady. Slower still. Our eyes remained locked. His breathing fell in sync with my own. And my cock gradually appeared and disappeared, over and over again, each thrust back in eliciting a soft moan from him and a groan from me, with the whipping wind outside seemingly cheering us on.

I glanced down at my watch. “Ten more minutes,” I informed him. “Think you can make it until then?”

“How about ten seconds?”

I shook my head. “Ten minutes.” I leaned down again and let my lips brush his. It was like landing on a cloud. “Come with me at the stroke of midnight.”

He sighed. “I like the stroking part.”

I laughed, then slid my prick home again, kissing him long and hard. “Wait,” I whispered. “Just wait.”

He nodded. “Wait. Okay.”

I’d fucked men longer than this before, but something about this one was stupendously different. And so again I pulled out, staring down as my dick stood there, patiently waiting before sliding all the way in again. My eyes then landed on his cock, which throbbed and shook in place. Lastly they landed on his eyes, which were glazed over in apparent delight. All of this I repeated, over and over again, fucking the year to a close.

With my last shove inside, I released his wrists and grabbed his dick. He pushed himself up and again met my mouth in what can only be categorized as an oral explosion tantamount to the Big Bang—all in all, an apt description. I picked up the pace on the pummeling of his hole, matching it with the one on his swollen tool, which was leaking up a storm by then.

With my cock now buried so far up his ass that it was a wonder it didn’t come popping out of his mouth, I didn’t have the wherewithal to glance at my watch. Not that it mattered, though, seeing as we instantly heard the calendar pages flipping both loudly and clearly. That is to say, we heard the fireworks booming in the distance, my heart booming right along with them.

I pried my mouth off of his and panted, “Happy New Year.”

He nodded and gulped, sweat trickling down his face. “Same here.”

And then my ass bucked and rocked and yes, boomed as well, ounce after molten-hot ounce of come spewing into the rubber and his ass with a force that seemed to make him slide a few inches in reverse. I howled as I came. He groaned as he came, barely a split second after me, come erupting up before raining down, his cock so thick in my grip that I had a difficult time keeping ahold of it.

I jacked harder, draining him of every last drop as he writhed atop the area rug, his fingernails raking the wood off to the side. I remained deep inside of him, uneager to release the figurative ties that bound us together. Instead I stared into his eyes that were reflecting both the flames of the fire and the ones in my heart.

“Wow,” I panted.

He chuckled, and the sound reverberated around my rib cage. “Doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

And it didn’t. Three letters, three words, three dictionaries: none of them could adequately express what I was feeling right at that moment. It was as if the linking of the old and the new year had also linked him to me and me to him, even as my cock and his hole were linked and as our gazes, too, were linked.

I’d laid a trap for Steve, but fate seemed to have one-upped me—tricky fate that it is.

And yes, I freely admit that all of this linking and laying traps might have simply been a case of post-coital bliss, but it simply didn’t feel that way. Bliss, sure. Post-coital? Well, since we were still, um…
coitaling
, not really. In truth it felt like we’d been together for years now. And though, okay, by all accounts we’d been together over a span of two years, I realize that this was simply a technicality.

“Happy New Year,” I repeated.

He grinned. “You already said that.”

I shrugged as I ever so gently eased my prick out of his furry ass. “Thought it was worth mentioning again, what with me being so, you know, happy and this being the New Year and all.” It was not eloquent, no, but I was having a hard time breathing; formulating words was another matter entirely. Heck, it was a wonder that I even managed to extricate myself from his exquisite hole, all things considered.

We ended up sprawled out on the floor, the cot too small for two. I was on my back, him by my side, his head on my chest. We covered ourselves in every spare blanket and bit of clothing we had at our disposal. Judging by the frigid temperatures both inside and out, I gathered this was why the cabin wasn’t used in the winter.

“So,” he said with a heavy sigh. “When do you leave to go back home? And, uh, where exactly is home?”

My belly tightened into so many knots that it would have taken a team of Boy Scouts to untie it. “Flight is tomorrow night. Home is California.”

His head rose up as he turned to look at me. “Um, where in California?” There was an odd breathlessness to his voice all of a sudden.

“Los Angeles—why?”

He laughed, thereby releasing a few of those knots. “Did I mention that I’m moving soon?”

I thought back. Though clearly I didn’t have far to think. “You didn’t even mention your last name, let alone your travel plans.” I paused, my mind catching up to the conversation. “Um, where exactly are you moving to?”

He hugged me tighter. “Too cold up here. Los Angeles had some openings in their ranger program. I accepted the job last week.”