Andy said.
“You’re loco all right. You’re not old enough to be her father.”
“Well, actually I am.” Loretta was thirty-four. “But seriously. I hope she closes her door. I’m thinking, how loud can we be before she hears us?”
Victor giggled. “Am I going to start to say something really vile and then choke?”
“Maybe you’ll like keeping it quiet. Didn’t you ever do that thing where you’re messing around and someone’s in the next room and if they catch you you’re in a heap of trouble?”
“Well, sure.” Victor laughed again at Andy’s isn’t-that-obvious tone.
Then he stopped laughing because Andy’s hand was in his hair and they were kissing as if they’d been separated for months, instead of embarking on this wonderful, glorious almost-a-year together. Victor broke for a breath after a
few minutes, staying close with his face against Andy’s. “You still like the beard, huh.”
“Oh my fucking God.”
Andy laughed under his breath. “I need to get a haircut.”
“Don’t do that either.” Victor kissed him again, hard enough and long enough that he almost forgot what he meant to say. “Go full Renaissance for me.”
“Oh, for Antonio? I’m not sure they actually wore their hair this long –”
Andy stopped talking because they were on the bed. Victor was stretched out on top of him, elbows planted beside his head, both hands in that hadn’t-been-cut-since-May hair, making sounds into Andy’s mouth and moving in a way that said they might have waited too long to get their clothes off. Oh no you don’t. Andy exerted himself a little and rolled them over. Once he was on top he tore off his shirt, unbuttoned Victor’s, then put his mouth on that tanned chest. Spared a glance at the silver chain, thought later for you, and headed south. Unbuttoned, unzipped, pulled the jeans off and then the briefs.
Heard the hungry, desperate sound. “Jesus, Victor.” Replaced Victor’s hand with his own, and then with his mouth.
“Fucking Christ!” Victor surged up uncontrollably, felt teeth scrape, heard Andy’s apologetic sound, didn’t care. The heat, the pressure, the tongue. “God damn oh my fuck Andy –” The next sound wasn’t a word. It wasn’t quiet, either. Andy held him in his mouth till the end. Victor felt his throat work and surged again. Then he lay there gasping, breath gradually slowing and evening out. “Was that as loud as it sounded in my head?” Andy laughed, mouth still on Victor, and finally let him go. He brushed his bearded face against Victor’s groin, heard a muffled whimper, and smiled to himself.
“Yes it was. You have officially blown our cover. Or I have.” He watched Victor laugh silently. “What do you have to say for yourself, Mr.
Garcia.”
“I’ll say anything you want.”
“Tell me what you think I should do with you now. I have a few ideas of my own.”
“I’ll bet you do.” Victor had his eyes closed, but he felt Andy get off the bed. Heard another pair of jeans hit the floor. Heard the nightstand drawer open. “Are you going to get in me?”
“Yes, I think so. This way?”
“This way. I want to see your face.”
“I want to see yours, too. I want to watch you watching me fuck you.” A cushion hit the bed. Victor still had his eyes closed. “Push up, catnip.” Victor arched his back, lifted his hips. Andy got the cushion under him. “You look like someone who spent three and a half months making an action movie.
Pretty ripped, there.”
“Speak for yourself.” Victor had his eyes open now, because Andy’s hands were on him, and he wanted to see everything. But Andy was sitting back on his heels between Victor’s legs. “I can’t see you.”
“See what? This?” Andy raised up, watching Victor’s eyelids come down, his lips part, his breath catch. “You want me to fuck you with this?”
“Jesus, yes.” Andy stayed where he was, one hand working Victor with the lube until he was half-hard again and Andy was about to explode. He bent to put his mouth on Victor’s thigh, felt both legs jerk, listened to the sounds of renewed arousal as his mouth traveled from one leg across the groin to the other. “Andy. You’re killing me.”
“Well, how do you think I feel, looking at all that.” A hand on himself now, plenty of lube, and a push. Victor moaned. Andy felt a little lightheaded. I might not even get in before, hell. Victor arched, pushing back, taking him. “My fucking movie star.” Deeper, faster, panting.
“Yours.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Victor half-laughed. “We are a blasphemous pair of filthy fuckers.” Victor laughed out loud. “Oh damn don’t do that, don’t laugh.”
“Don’t make me laugh. God damn Andy.”
“Yes. God damn me. Holy fucking hell, no, Jesus God I love you, I want to fuck you all night, I can’t.” Andy bit his lip, pulling Victor’s thighs tight against him, watching his husband’s ecstatic face and rigid cock. “I want to fuck you till you come again. Come again. Victor.”
“Andy. I love you. Touch me.”
Andy changed his hand and arm configuration because he really wanted to see that. Right hand on Victor, wrapped around Victor. Holding still inside Victor because those hips were moving again and there he went, Jesus, “God, you beautiful thing.” Andy’s voice on top of Victor’s cry. He hoisted Victor
up, reaching under for that cushion and shoving it aside. Then they were down and flat, Andy tight against Victor and thrusting hard, coming hard, saying something loud and unbelievably vile that Loretta would surely hear.
Finally spent, Victor’s legs crossed behind his back, gasping into each other’s mouths. They were both quiet for a few seconds. Then Andy performed a slow backward collapse, disengaging, ending up on his back, stretching out his legs. “I should clean us up.”
“Eh. We can get in the shower.”
“You first.” Victor was apparently close enough to bite an ankle. “Ow.”
Some more activity, Victor finding the cushion and tossing it somewhere. An offended snort from the floor. “That was
