RJ Scott, V.L. Locey, Hockey Romance, MM Romance, Weekly Serial


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Episode 13


I must have stood staring at the cooler filled with beer for a long time because the kid who worked behind the counter of the pizza shop finally called to me.

“Anything I can help you with?”

I started just a bit and slowly looked his way. “Do you have non-alcoholic beer for sale?”

“Dude, really? That’s like decaffeinated coffee. Why even bother?”

He was right, so I grabbed a six pack of Blue Moon Belgium White and paid for it, leaving the change on the counter for a tip. Did Americans tip pizza shop counter boys? American tipping habits still confounded me at times. I generally just tipped everyone. So far I’d had no complaints.

Placing the beer on the passenger seat, I rushed to the gallery. I pounded on the door in spite of the “CLOSED” sign staring at me. I knew Sam. He would be here. I knocked and knocked, and when I was this close to putting my fist through the glass to trigger the alarm – my panic levels at maximum – he opened the door.

“I told you I was fine,” he said but I knew better. I pushed inside, beer in my hand, a few tiny snowflakes riding in on the cold air with me and gave the door a firm shove. It glided shut. Sam wearily locked it and looked from the door to me. Something leaped from him to me right then. An invisible spark of need and emotion, a snapping fissure of want and passion, that made me inhale sharply as my cock thickened. I bent down to place the beer on the steps that led up to his living quarters and work space. Then I straightened.

“I’m here to give you whatever you need. Beer, a shoulder to cry on, a lover…”

Sam studied me intently, the confusion in his gaze giving way to a simmering low burn of lust.

“I need a lover right now.”

I reached for him, to kiss him, but he took my hand instead and led me up the stairs. My coat fell off me at the top of the steps, one arm at a time. When both hands were free I placed them on Sam’s scruffy face and brought his mouth to mine. Gently but with the forcefulness he thrived on. He opened his mouth with a soft whimper that made my cock throb. Tongue on his, I danced him back to the nearest wall and kissed him until he was begging and half nude. I tugged his sloppy fleece top the rest of the way over his head, leaning a knee into his thigh to pin him in place while I pinched his sweet pink nipples. I lapped at his mouth, swirling my tongue around his. He writhed and moaned, his hands pawing at my zipper.

“No, you don’t do that now,” I panted over his kiss-swollen lips then quickly and roughly pulled his pants and briefs down to his ankles. He stepped out of them, his gaze hot, his cock weeping. “Now we go to bed.”

He stood there against the wall, waiting.

“Say it in Finnish,” he begged on a raspy whisper. “Please.”

Tule luokseni.”

Come to me.

 He wrapped himself around me like a vine, his mouth on my neck, his cock pressed to my belly. I carried him to the bedroom, kicking aside a sneaker and a box of paintbrushes, my hands on his tight, bare ass. When my knees hit the mattress I dropped him. He hit the bed with a grunt then displayed himself in just the right manner to push me past any kind of restraint I was trying to maintain. Arms over his head, legs spread, cock jutting up proudly, ass bared to my hungry gaze.

He didn’t move a muscle as I stripped, only a soft mewling sound came from him when my cock was freed from my jeans.

“Hurry, Elo, hurry…”

I yanked open the drawer of the nightstand with a sort of madness of the mind. The lamp teetered over and fell to its side and the drawer hung open. He moaned, grabbing at his knees and tucking them into his chest, giving me more of his ass to salivate over as I fumbled to get a condom on.

“Elo…” he pleaded on a raspy breath. I flicked the lid of the lube open, my eyes on his hole then moving up over his heavy balls to his prick. The head glistened. I licked my lips wishing I could have him in my mouth while I plowed his ass. “Hurry.”

The line of lube I drew on my cock was thick. I worked it around then toyed with his ass just a bit. His soft sinful sounds of pleasure filled the room. Taking my cock in hand, I pressed into his heat, first the head disappearing inside him, then the shaft. Sam cried out, his body hot and slick, stretching, gripping, tight. So damn tight.

“Open your eyes. Look at me while I fuck you,” I told him. He did exactly as I asked, he always did, always would. “God above you are my life,” I murmured then rocked into him so deeply his eyes fluttered upward in his skull.

He came a moment later, his hand on his cock, my hips moving like a steam piston. When he came his muscles clamped down around me and I was done as well. Sam wiggled around under me, arching up then desperately grabbing at my shoulders. I dropped down over him, smearing warm cum into our chests, and covered his mouth with mine. I knew what he wanted and how he wanted it. He licked into my mouth, his arms going around me as his legs did the same. I rolled to the left, taking him with me, mouths still sealed, my cock sliding out of him as we kissed and stroked each other.

“I’ve missed you… this…us,” he purred against my lips.

“Mm, me too. Go paint something for me. Show me in your colors how much you love me, Sam.”

He kissed me hard and deep then sprang from the bed, his skin hot pink from the flush of sex. I lay there in his bed, cock softening, arms folded behind my head, and watched him slap vibrant colors to a canvas, his ass and the curve of his back an artwork to rival the madcap modernistic thing he was creating. I loved this time, the manic rush of creativity that our passion always seemed to fuel inside him.

He threw paint here and there, his face a mask of concentration until he was done. Then he tossed the brush and palette aside and spun to face me. A dollop of orange paint rested beside his nose and a drop of red was smeared into the cooling cum on his chest. I patted the bed and he came to me, crawling over me, rubbing the paint skin to skin, tasting my lips as his soft cock brushed my hip.

“I love you,” I told him, my fingers resting on the back of his neck, both hands locked there so his mouth stayed close to mine.

“I love you too.” He let me bring his mouth to mine, his body going pliant when I flipped him to his back, my leg moving over his to secure him in place beside me, where he belonged. “I’m even more confused now,” he confessed, his fingers moving in small circles over my shoulders as I shimmied between his legs, suddenly eager to make love to him again. I nudged at his chin with my nose and pressed kisses to his throat as he explained all that happened with Beth and Lisa. I tried to be involved, but the crushing need to love him overtook me, and so we had sex again. It was softer the second time but just as powerful.

Later, much later, when the darkness of night had settled over the city, and he was sleeping in my arms, sated and perfectly formed to my side, Sam grumbled at me, waking me just slightly. It took me several minutes to wake up when Sam began to rouse. I pulled him back into my chest.

“A phone… yours maybe,” he mumbled groggily. I let him go but only because calls in the dead of night were generally bad news. “Where are your pants?”

“Somewhere,” I yawned, rolling to my stomach then burying my face into the sheets. They smelled of Sam, sex, and me. “Look by the easel maybe?”

I heard him kick over an empty beer bottle. We’d at least taken time between rounds of sex to replenish our fluids in some manner.

“Got them,” he called, the electronic chirrup growing louder as he hustled back to the bed with my pants. “Here answer it. It might be your mother calling or something.”

I moved to my side, arm bent under my head, the stark white moonlight flowing in the window making Sam look angelic. He was so beautiful… and he was mine. Nothing would part us again. I vowed that on all that was dear to me.

Eyes roaming his sweet, lithe body I gave my phone a quick glance. Then I sat upright. Sam’s eyes flared.

I smiled and hit the ‘talk’ button. “Hello Stan, tell me your Olaf has something for us.”

Sam, sitting beside me with my pants on his lap, gazed at me with tangled eyebrows.

“Olaf has something for you. You can meet us at Ivan’s tonight?”

“We’ll be there in an hour.”

“Is good! I will find sweets and pot for making tea in,” Stan announced then ended the call.

I hugged Sam to me.

 “What’s going on, Elo?”

“I’ll explain on the way to Harrisburg.”

“Harrisburg? But it’s ten after two in the morning,” he whined as only a man who was intent on staying in his warm bed with a hot lover could whine.

“It will be worth it, trust me.”

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