Smoky Mountain Dreams (44 page)

Jesse laughed, kissing Christopher’s nose and pulling him
down to rest against his chest. “I’d do it if you really wanted.”

“Shh. It’s nothing I need from you,” Christopher whispered,
his fingers idly circling Jesse’s nipples and playing in his chest hair. “I’m
happy.”

Jesse groaned, his cock thudding with a sleepy lust. He was
tired but maybe just one more round. “Lay on your stomach,” he murmured. “I
need to be in you again.”

Christopher chuckled, yawned, and scooted off Jesse to
settle on his stomach, legs spread and a pillow shoved beneath his hips to make
it easier. “Not sure I can come,” Christopher said, as Jesse slid on another
condom and crawled over him.

“S’okay. I just need to be—oh, fuck, you’re so hot inside.”
Jesse groaned, collapsing on Christopher’s back and sliding his cock into
Christopher’s tight hole. He rocked into him slowly, settling down on top of
Christopher, feeling his shallow breaths and the way his body relaxed under
him, accepting Jesse deeper and deeper with each thrust.

“Mmm,” Christopher murmured, shifting so that their cheeks
were pressed together and Jesse could feel the hot push of Christopher’s breath
mingling with his own. “Fuck me to sleep.”

Jesse buried his nose in the soft hairs at the back of
Christopher’s neck, and pushed some of its shagginess aside, kissing the sweaty
skin. “You rest,” he whispered.

Christopher did just that, going soft and pliant beneath
him, and Jesse marveled at the intimate sexiness of fucking Christopher as he
drifted in a state between awake and asleep. He explored Christopher’s body
with his mouth, kissing his neck and shoulders, and sucking at his earlobes,
which earned a chuckle and a tension in Christopher’s muscles that translated
into his ass gripping Jesse’s cock just that much more.

Jesse moved on, kissing his cheek, his hair, and his pulse
in his vulnerable throat, all the while pumping his hips slowly, steadily, and
reveling in Christopher’s hot tightness.

“More,” Christopher murmured after nearly twenty minutes of
the slow, sleepy fuck. “Harder.” He wriggled his hand down between his body and
the mattress, and Jesse knew he was gripping his cock. “I want to come now.”

Jesse pushed himself up and shifted back onto his knees, his
dick popping free of Christopher’s ass. They both groaned. Jesse’s chest and
stomach felt chilled in the cool air of the bedroom after being pressed up
against Christopher’s sweaty back, and he noticed the goose bumps raising all
over Christopher’s skin.

“I said harder,” Christopher complained, rolling over and
shoving Jesse down onto the bed. His cock was hard and the tip glossy with pre-cum
as he climbed up on Jesse’s body and slammed his ass back down on Jesse’s cock,
riding him hard.

“Fuck,” Jesse grunted, gripping Christopher’s hips, trying
to slow him down.

But there was no stopping him as he threw his head back and
fucked himself on Jesse’s dick. Flushed, rosy and gorgeous, all the way from
his light pubic hair to over his chest and shoulders, and up his neck to his
bright cheeks. He flung himself back and gyrated his hips, squeezing Jesse’s
dick with each bounce up and down.

“Babe, you’re gonna make me come,” Jesse said, trying to
hold onto Christopher’s writhing, humping body, but unable to keep him still. “So
close. Gonna come for you if you keep on — gonna come—fuck, fuck,
fucking hell
!”

Jesse’s balls wrenched and he groaned as pleasure burst over
him, his nipples tingling and stomach clenched as he rammed up into Christopher’s
ass and shot his load. He cried out, head thrown back, and Christopher’s
relentless riding milked him as he trembled through a mind-numbing orgasm.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Christopher chanted, his hand stripping at
his cock quickly, his green eyes blown wide and his red mouth open and wet. “Ugh,
fuck, gotta just…need a little…oh, Jesse, fuck, yes—”

Jesse jerked in surprise as hot, thick stripes of jizz
landed on his chest and stomach while Christopher moaned and quivered over him,
gasping and flushed, eyes glazed over and his thighs and stomach trembling. It
was the hottest thing Jesse had ever seen. Though as soon as he thought it, his
brain reminded him of a dozen other hot moments with Christopher, each so good
it was hard to compare.

“Oh, Jesse,” Christopher moaned as he collapsed down on
Jesse’s chest, his ass still clenching around Jesse’s over-sensitive cock. “I…it’s
just…so good.”

“Yeah.” Jesse wrapped his arms around Christopher’s
shoulders and kissed his stubble-scratchy cheek. “So good.”

“Can you put your fingers…?”

Jesse rolled Christopher onto his back and slid his hand
down to insert a few fingers into Christopher’s ass.

Christopher sighed in pleasure and whispered, “That’s really
good. Helps me come down.”

“Yeah,” Jesse knew that and had always done it for the guys
he fucked years ago. He’d done it before for Christopher, but having
Christopher ask him for it touched something inside him deeply. He felt
affection tightening his chest until he had to bury his face in Christopher’s
neck, breathing in his sweet scent while his fingers gently moved in
Christopher’s body.

C
HRISTOPHER
WAS SUNK DEEP INTO
the soft mattress as he studied Jesse’s bedroom while
Jesse, exhausted, snored. Burgundy walls, the color of watered-down wine, and
cream trim, along with wild paintings of jungle animals and jungle landscapes.
It seemed nothing like Jesse’s taste at all. Christopher wondered if Marcy had
chosen the décor. Perhaps that had been the agreement—the bedroom fit her
personality and his home office fit his.

It felt a little creepy being in her space. He wondered if
it had crossed Jesse’s mind at all during the sex or after, because this was
the room he’d slept in with Marcy—on this very mattress probably. They’d
probably brought their babies home to this bedroom and kept them in a bassinet
by their bed. They’d snuggled here, and laughed here, and now Christopher was
in that bed naked, and still feeling the ghost-sensation of Marcy’s husband’s
cock up his ass.

Christopher swallowed hard against the sensation that
somehow she could see him—that she was watching and judging him. Closing his
eyes and seeking the intimacy they’d shared not long ago, Christopher shifted
in the sheets and reached out to run his fingers through Jesse’s chest hair. He
smiled when Jesse sighed in his sleep and covered Christopher’s hand with his,
pressing it down against his heart. The steady beat felt present and reassuring
under his palm.

Closing his eyes, Christopher let it insinuate its rhythm
into his consciousness, stamping out the dread and overlaying it with love. A
song started in his head, something tender and intimate, something about loving
two people at once, but the lyrics buzzed right outside his grasp, though the
melody descended on him like a lapping, gentle wave.

He gently disengaged his hand from Jesse’s grip and slowly
slid from the bed. He pulled on Jesse’s track pants, discarded by the bed in
the heat of the moment earlier, and found they fit perfectly despite the fact
that Jesse’s stomach was hard and tight while his own was softer in appearance.
He looked back at Jesse in bed when he reached the door, his face soft and
sweet in sleep, and the darkness of stubble on his cheek seeming even darker in
the shadows.

Carefully, Christopher padded down the stairs and once again
made a wrong turn, ending up in the living room. He retraced his steps, finding
his way to the piano room, as he called it in his head. He sat down on the
bench and uncovered the keys, the sensation of Jesse’s heartbeat still echoing
in the nerves of his palm as he closed his eyes and let the melody come to him.

And then,
pianissimo
, he began to
play, his fingers gentle on the keys. He needed to feel the music come from his
hands, to rely on muscle memory as well. His mind was too untrustworthy. There
had been far too many melodies that had come to him at the edge of sleep, and,
certain that it was such a strong one there was no way he’d forget, he’d woken
the next morning only to find it completely lost.

The melody gained its footing, and Christopher closed his
eyes, letting it take him through several improvisations of chorus and bridge,
seeking the perfect notes to take him to the place where the words would sift
down to him like blessings. Eventually, the first lyrics came to him, and he
whisper-sang them again and again: a line about a ghost and a living heart,
tied together, never free.

When Christopher was sure he’d memorized the melody, his
fingers played the notes automatically, and he was certain no more words would
be forthcoming, he sat back, pressed his palm to his mouth and pushed out his
tongue to see if he could taste Jesse’s heartbeat still echoing on his skin.

At the sound of a throat clearing behind him, Christopher
yelled and banged his knee against the piano, causing it to explode with sound.
He whirled around to see Jesse leaning naked against the door jamb, his eyes
dark with sleepiness, and a soft smile on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Christopher rubbed his knee and shook his head, laughing
shakily, his heart pounding madly from the fright. “Holy shit! I thought you
were asleep!”

“I was. But I’m a father. My ears are attuned to hear every
small shuffle or bang or creak or cough. You never know when you’ll be called
for in the middle of the night when you’ve got kids.”

“I didn’t realize. I just…this song showed up. I didn’t want
to lose it.”

“I’m glad. It was beautiful. Do you need a piece of paper to
write anything down?”

“No, I have it now.” Feeling a little embarrassed to have
been observed during his creative process, Christopher covered the keys again
and stood, yawning. “I can probably sleep now.”

“Oh, sure,” Jesse said, teasing. “Wake a guy, get him all
worked up watching you play piano shirtless, and then just go to sleep. Such a
tease.”

Christopher approached him with a smile and whispered, “You’re
one to talk, lounging in doorways completely naked. Besides, I’m totally easy
and never a tease. I thought you knew that by now.”

Jesse grinned and took Christopher’s hand. “What do you say
we go back to my bed?”

Christopher remembered the wine-red walls, the vibrant
paintings, and the sense that it was Marcy’s room more than Jesse’s. He
hesitated, and a click sounded in the back of his throat as he swallowed.

“What’s wrong?” Jesse asked. “I wasn’t too rough earlier,
was I?”

Christopher didn’t know how to explain that before, when
they’d actually been having sex, he hadn’t really noticed that Jesse’s room
didn’t seem…well, like
his
. And he didn’t know how
to explain that now he’d had a look at it, he didn’t want to have sex there
again. It felt too much like having sex inside Marcy’s womb—all red and
feminine.

“No, of course not. I’m fine. I just…” Christopher forced a
smile, determined not to say anything at all. “I just keep thinking about my
mom and Bob. But you had a rough day too, and I feel bad I never asked about
that.”

Jesse blinked at him, and then drew him close. “Hmm. Is that
really it?”

“Sure.”

Jesse searched his face, and then looked down the hall
toward the staircase. He let out a slow breath. “It’s not that maybe you feel
uncomfortable in that room?”

Christopher slumped against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I
didn’t want you to know. It just hit me while we were lying there afterward
that it was her space and suddenly I felt really weird being in it.”

Jesse’s throat convulsed against Christopher’s bare
shoulder, swallowing something down. Christopher added, “It’s okay. It’s a
comfortable bed. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, actually,” Jesse said, pulling back, but
holding onto Christopher’s hand. “Let’s go into the kitchen and have a snack. I
feel like I need to see your eyes for this.”

Christopher wasn’t accustomed to eating so late at night,
but he watched as Jesse, still stark naked, pulled open a cabinet above the
fridge.

“My secret stash. Tell Brigid or Will about this and you’ll
be sorry. Not because I’ll be angry, but because they’ll eat it all at once and
turn into the sugar-crash monsters from hell.”

The Little Debbie boxes pulled from the cabinet were of a
wide variety, but Christopher and Jesse both chose Zebra Cakes for their snack.

Jesse motioned for Christopher to sit on a stool at the
counter. “I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing into a room off the side
of the kitchen that Christopher realized must be the laundry when he re-emerged
in track pants. “Would you like wine with the Zebra Cakes?” Jesse asked,
yawning and turning to the wine fridge underneath the front kitchen window. “They’re
surprisingly good with a halfway decent moscato.”