A/N: Just or you, Sarah. See what happens when you ask? If I know that people are interested, I'm far more likely to update a story fast than i will if i think most people don't seem to care about it anymore.
Chapter 14
Ricky was feeling skittish as he walked up the front path to James' house. In fact, he wondered rather distantly if he wasn't going to start hyperventilating at any moment. His hands were shaking on the plastic Tupperware bowl he was holding, a bowl which held homemade potato salad that he'd made for them to share while they watched a football game tonight. Making the potato salad had helped to take his mind off of the fact that he was going to ask James about his not-so-little 'problem' tonight. He swallowed heavily as he walked up onto the porch, and the door swung open in front of him.
"Hey, Ricky," James said with a small smile. "Come on in."
He stepped into the house, and his voice was only a little squeaky as he said: "I made potato salad."
James looked at the Tupperware bowl. "Did you? That sounds good. I've got chips and beer, so we're set."
Ricky had to close his teeth on a slightly hysterical giggle. "Okay," he said, and went with James into the living room.
Later, as they sat on the couch watching the game, Ricky kept shooting his companion little sideways glances. He was trying to work up his courage enough to bring up the topic of sexual intimacy, but he just couldn't seem to do it. His tongue froze inside of his mouth every time he tried, and his breathing threatened to stop, too. He squirmed, cursing himself in his own head.
"Ricky," James' voice made him jump about a foot in the air.
"Y-Yes?"
"Are you all right? You seem kind of worked up. What's the matter?"
The concern in James' voice touched him. And it helped to give him at least some courage. "I...I wanted to talk to you about something," he began anxiously.
James' brows lifted slightly. He studied Ricky's pale face. "What is it?" he turned toward Ricky, and his voice was calm and even.
Ricky was starting to pant a little. Sweat had broken out on his brow. "I...I..." was it hot in here? His throat was threatening to close up.
James reached out and took Ricky's hands in his own. "Listen to me, Ricky," he began in that same calm, soothing voice. "Take deep breaths. One, two, three. Now...say it clearly. Come on."
"I want more," Ricky said in a small voice, staring into James' eyes.
"More? More of what?"
"When you kiss me every time that I leave...that's cool, but I want...more."
"Let me see if I've got this straight," James said, never looking away from Ricky's eyes. "You like our 'goodnight' kisses, but you want something more than that? Is that right?"
"Yes," he squeaked on a thread of sound.
James' lips lifted in a slow smile. "All you had to do was ask," he said, and before Ricky could say anything else he leaned slowly forward.
Their lips met in a long, slow kiss that left Ricky moaning helplessly into James' mouth. A tongue glided inside, stroking over his in a way that made him shudder in James' embrace. He felt his muscles all turning to mush, and he half-fell against the cop. Hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, and he seemed to feel that touch even through the fabric of his shirt. His chest heaved as James pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Was that more like what you wanted?"
He had to try to draw in enough breath to actually speak. "Yes," he said.
James smiled. "Do you want more?" he asked softly.
He could only nod helplessly. James took his lips again, and this kiss was even more devastating. Ricky was so lost in it that he missed the fact that a hand had drifted down the front of his shirt, until it slid between the buttons and fingers caressed lightly over the bare skin of his chest. He moaned into James' mouth, especially when those questing fingertips reached one of his nipples and lightly caressed over it.
The cop pulled back enough to feather a string of kisses along his jaw, even as his fingertips closed lightly over Ricky's nipple and pinched it a little. He shivered, gasping. "I'm going to unbutton this now," James remarked against his ear, his fingers skimming over the front of the shirt. "Don't freak out, okay?"
Ten minutes ago he might have done that, but right now he simply didn't care. James' hands closed over the buttons and began to slip them open with careless skill, while Ricky struggled to breathe and watched helplessly as each one parted. When James pushed open the front of his shirt, he wondered dimly if he might start hyperventilating. James' broad hands settled in the middle of his bare chest, unmoving. He could see his own chest heaving under the long fingers. The cop's eyes rose to meet his. "You have a nice body, Ricky," he said quietly.
His tongue seemed to be trying to cleave to the roof of his mouth. "Do you want me to move my hands?" James asked him, still looking into his eyes.
He nodded a little, unable to speak. James slid his hands in caressing circles over Ricky's bare skin, and this touch set his over sensitized skin on fire. He panted desperately, wildly, as James' fingers found his nipples and his thumbs slid over the rucked peaks. Ricky arched his back, stunned by how good it felt to have his nipples touched. He'd never imagined that a man had such sensitive nipples, and the girls that he'd been with had never played with his during sex.
"James," he husked, not sure what he was trying to say but needing to articulate the cop's name.
"Ricky," James replied. "Does this feel good?"
His hands slid down Ricky's bare chest, skimming over his shivering stomach. His fingers were skimming near the waistband of Ricky's pants, and he moaned as he imagined them venturing even lower. But then they stopped, and he whimpered in disappointment. "I won't go any further than this unless you tell me to, Ricky," James told him seriously. "I don't want to do anything that you don't want me to do. You have to tell me what you want."
His mouth opened and closed. How was he supposed to speak articulately at this point? But if he didn't, then James would leave him like this. He couldn't stand that! His cock felt like it was trying to bore a hole through his pants. If it wasn't freed, he was seriously afraid that it would explode. "P-Please," he stuttered, desperation spurring him on. "Please touch me, James. Please!"
"No begging necessary, Ricky," the cop said throatily. Then his fingers closed on the snap and the zipper, making short work of them.
Oh, God! Ricky shuddered and lifted his hips, as James' fingers eased the zipper down to reveal the bulge under white cotton. Fingertips skimmed over this bulge, making him cry out a little. Then James lifted the elastic waistband of his underwear and began to draw it down over the erection straining against it. He whimpered again, this time in relief, as his cock sprang free and lay there twitching and leaking in excitement.
"Looks like you have a problem here," James said. "Want me to take care of it for you?"
He nodded, hoping that James wouldn't make him beg again. The cop curled his fingers around Ricky's erection, using his thumb to caress the shaft. Ricky moaned, his head going back a little. James leaned forward and kissed his neck, now vulnerably exposed. Even as he nibbled at the cords standing out in Ricky's neck, his hand slid up to the tip of his cock and gathered the precum leaking from it to lubricate his fingers. Then he began to stroke Ricky's cock rhythmically, from base to tip, even as he began to suckle at the side of his neck.
Ricky was lost. James' hand felt so damn good! He felt overwhelmed by James, by his size and the smell of him and the feel of his lips gliding down his neck. Not to mention the pleasure he was experiencing from the hand sliding slickly up and down the length of him. He grabbed at James' shoulders and hung on for dear life, trembling at the conglomeration of sensations swamping him.
His hips had started to buck upward, driving himself into James' caressing hand. "Please," he whimpered into the cop's ear, desperate for the ultimate pleasure.
A low laugh, then James' lips reclaimed his in an eating kiss, even as the hand touching him tightened its grip and stroked him firmly from root to tip. He wailed into the lips covering his, jerking and thrashing as his cock began to spew its load all over James' hand. His mind went blank for a moment, lost in a sea of ecstasy. Then he slumped backward, spent, his body humming in satiated happiness.
James released his lips, lightly licking at his bottom one as he eased back and away. He smiled down at the panting, sweaty, dazed-eyed Ricky, before he reached out and grabbed some tissue from the box on the coffee table to clean him up with. "I take it that was good enough?" he asked, still smiling as he wiped Ricky's skin clean.
"Yeah," he husked. "That was really good."
"I'm glad that you liked it," James said, finishing his cleaning job. He got Ricky tucked back into his underwear, then zipped his pants back up for him. He leaned over to lightly kiss Ricky's lips once more, before he drew away and settled back in his seat on the couch. His hand reached out to stroke Ricky's thigh as he looked at the TV, where the football team was making a play.
Ricky blinked. His mind was returning to him, and while his nervousness had pretty much dissipated, he was a little worried. He squirmed, sitting up slowly. "James?"
The hand on his thigh halted. "What is it?" the cop asked, not looking away from the TV screen.
"I...What about...you?" Ricky asked uncertainly.
Now James glanced at him. "What about me?" he asked.
"Well..." Ricky's eyes dropped briefly to his lap, then skittered away. "Aren't you...don't you...?"
"Oh," James said, enlightened. "Yes, I am and I do. But I don't expect you to 'help me out' this time, Ricky. You're not ready for it. It's nice that you've come far enough to let ME touch YOU, but I don't think that you could return the favor yet. Or am I wrong?"
Ricky tried to imagine touching James' cock, and felt a spurt of anxiety go through him. "I-I'd like to, but..." he began miserably.
The hand on his thigh moved in a petting motion. "Don't sweat it. We'll work you up to it, Ricky. You're really coming along; it shouldn't be too difficult to get you used to the idea soon. I can wait until then; it's all right."
Ricky felt a spurt of gratitude go through him. "Thank you, James," he breathed.
"Hey," the cop shot him a wry, affectionate smile, "What are boyfriends for?"
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Chapter 14
Ricky was feeling skittish as he walked up the front path to James' house. In fact, he wondered rather distantly if he wasn't going to start hyperventilating at any moment. His hands were shaking on the plastic Tupperware bowl he was holding, a bowl which held homemade potato salad that he'd made for them to share while they watched a football game tonight. Making the potato salad had helped to take his mind off of the fact that he was going to ask James about his not-so-little 'problem' tonight. He swallowed heavily as he walked up onto the porch, and the door swung open in front of him.
"Hey, Ricky," James said with a small smile. "Come on in."
He stepped into the house, and his voice was only a little squeaky as he said: "I made potato salad."
James looked at the Tupperware bowl. "Did you? That sounds good. I've got chips and beer, so we're set."
Ricky had to close his teeth on a slightly hysterical giggle. "Okay," he said, and went with James into the living room.
Later, as they sat on the couch watching the game, Ricky kept shooting his companion little sideways glances. He was trying to work up his courage enough to bring up the topic of sexual intimacy, but he just couldn't seem to do it. His tongue froze inside of his mouth every time he tried, and his breathing threatened to stop, too. He squirmed, cursing himself in his own head.
"Ricky," James' voice made him jump about a foot in the air.
"Y-Yes?"
"Are you all right? You seem kind of worked up. What's the matter?"
The concern in James' voice touched him. And it helped to give him at least some courage. "I...I wanted to talk to you about something," he began anxiously.
James' brows lifted slightly. He studied Ricky's pale face. "What is it?" he turned toward Ricky, and his voice was calm and even.
Ricky was starting to pant a little. Sweat had broken out on his brow. "I...I..." was it hot in here? His throat was threatening to close up.
James reached out and took Ricky's hands in his own. "Listen to me, Ricky," he began in that same calm, soothing voice. "Take deep breaths. One, two, three. Now...say it clearly. Come on."
"I want more," Ricky said in a small voice, staring into James' eyes.
"More? More of what?"
"When you kiss me every time that I leave...that's cool, but I want...more."
"Let me see if I've got this straight," James said, never looking away from Ricky's eyes. "You like our 'goodnight' kisses, but you want something more than that? Is that right?"
"Yes," he squeaked on a thread of sound.
James' lips lifted in a slow smile. "All you had to do was ask," he said, and before Ricky could say anything else he leaned slowly forward.
Their lips met in a long, slow kiss that left Ricky moaning helplessly into James' mouth. A tongue glided inside, stroking over his in a way that made him shudder in James' embrace. He felt his muscles all turning to mush, and he half-fell against the cop. Hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, and he seemed to feel that touch even through the fabric of his shirt. His chest heaved as James pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Was that more like what you wanted?"
He had to try to draw in enough breath to actually speak. "Yes," he said.
James smiled. "Do you want more?" he asked softly.
He could only nod helplessly. James took his lips again, and this kiss was even more devastating. Ricky was so lost in it that he missed the fact that a hand had drifted down the front of his shirt, until it slid between the buttons and fingers caressed lightly over the bare skin of his chest. He moaned into James' mouth, especially when those questing fingertips reached one of his nipples and lightly caressed over it.
The cop pulled back enough to feather a string of kisses along his jaw, even as his fingertips closed lightly over Ricky's nipple and pinched it a little. He shivered, gasping. "I'm going to unbutton this now," James remarked against his ear, his fingers skimming over the front of the shirt. "Don't freak out, okay?"
Ten minutes ago he might have done that, but right now he simply didn't care. James' hands closed over the buttons and began to slip them open with careless skill, while Ricky struggled to breathe and watched helplessly as each one parted. When James pushed open the front of his shirt, he wondered dimly if he might start hyperventilating. James' broad hands settled in the middle of his bare chest, unmoving. He could see his own chest heaving under the long fingers. The cop's eyes rose to meet his. "You have a nice body, Ricky," he said quietly.
His tongue seemed to be trying to cleave to the roof of his mouth. "Do you want me to move my hands?" James asked him, still looking into his eyes.
He nodded a little, unable to speak. James slid his hands in caressing circles over Ricky's bare skin, and this touch set his over sensitized skin on fire. He panted desperately, wildly, as James' fingers found his nipples and his thumbs slid over the rucked peaks. Ricky arched his back, stunned by how good it felt to have his nipples touched. He'd never imagined that a man had such sensitive nipples, and the girls that he'd been with had never played with his during sex.
"James," he husked, not sure what he was trying to say but needing to articulate the cop's name.
"Ricky," James replied. "Does this feel good?"
His hands slid down Ricky's bare chest, skimming over his shivering stomach. His fingers were skimming near the waistband of Ricky's pants, and he moaned as he imagined them venturing even lower. But then they stopped, and he whimpered in disappointment. "I won't go any further than this unless you tell me to, Ricky," James told him seriously. "I don't want to do anything that you don't want me to do. You have to tell me what you want."
His mouth opened and closed. How was he supposed to speak articulately at this point? But if he didn't, then James would leave him like this. He couldn't stand that! His cock felt like it was trying to bore a hole through his pants. If it wasn't freed, he was seriously afraid that it would explode. "P-Please," he stuttered, desperation spurring him on. "Please touch me, James. Please!"
"No begging necessary, Ricky," the cop said throatily. Then his fingers closed on the snap and the zipper, making short work of them.
Oh, God! Ricky shuddered and lifted his hips, as James' fingers eased the zipper down to reveal the bulge under white cotton. Fingertips skimmed over this bulge, making him cry out a little. Then James lifted the elastic waistband of his underwear and began to draw it down over the erection straining against it. He whimpered again, this time in relief, as his cock sprang free and lay there twitching and leaking in excitement.
"Looks like you have a problem here," James said. "Want me to take care of it for you?"
He nodded, hoping that James wouldn't make him beg again. The cop curled his fingers around Ricky's erection, using his thumb to caress the shaft. Ricky moaned, his head going back a little. James leaned forward and kissed his neck, now vulnerably exposed. Even as he nibbled at the cords standing out in Ricky's neck, his hand slid up to the tip of his cock and gathered the precum leaking from it to lubricate his fingers. Then he began to stroke Ricky's cock rhythmically, from base to tip, even as he began to suckle at the side of his neck.
Ricky was lost. James' hand felt so damn good! He felt overwhelmed by James, by his size and the smell of him and the feel of his lips gliding down his neck. Not to mention the pleasure he was experiencing from the hand sliding slickly up and down the length of him. He grabbed at James' shoulders and hung on for dear life, trembling at the conglomeration of sensations swamping him.
His hips had started to buck upward, driving himself into James' caressing hand. "Please," he whimpered into the cop's ear, desperate for the ultimate pleasure.
A low laugh, then James' lips reclaimed his in an eating kiss, even as the hand touching him tightened its grip and stroked him firmly from root to tip. He wailed into the lips covering his, jerking and thrashing as his cock began to spew its load all over James' hand. His mind went blank for a moment, lost in a sea of ecstasy. Then he slumped backward, spent, his body humming in satiated happiness.
James released his lips, lightly licking at his bottom one as he eased back and away. He smiled down at the panting, sweaty, dazed-eyed Ricky, before he reached out and grabbed some tissue from the box on the coffee table to clean him up with. "I take it that was good enough?" he asked, still smiling as he wiped Ricky's skin clean.
"Yeah," he husked. "That was really good."
"I'm glad that you liked it," James said, finishing his cleaning job. He got Ricky tucked back into his underwear, then zipped his pants back up for him. He leaned over to lightly kiss Ricky's lips once more, before he drew away and settled back in his seat on the couch. His hand reached out to stroke Ricky's thigh as he looked at the TV, where the football team was making a play.
Ricky blinked. His mind was returning to him, and while his nervousness had pretty much dissipated, he was a little worried. He squirmed, sitting up slowly. "James?"
The hand on his thigh halted. "What is it?" the cop asked, not looking away from the TV screen.
"I...What about...you?" Ricky asked uncertainly.
Now James glanced at him. "What about me?" he asked.
"Well..." Ricky's eyes dropped briefly to his lap, then skittered away. "Aren't you...don't you...?"
"Oh," James said, enlightened. "Yes, I am and I do. But I don't expect you to 'help me out' this time, Ricky. You're not ready for it. It's nice that you've come far enough to let ME touch YOU, but I don't think that you could return the favor yet. Or am I wrong?"
Ricky tried to imagine touching James' cock, and felt a spurt of anxiety go through him. "I-I'd like to, but..." he began miserably.
The hand on his thigh moved in a petting motion. "Don't sweat it. We'll work you up to it, Ricky. You're really coming along; it shouldn't be too difficult to get you used to the idea soon. I can wait until then; it's all right."
Ricky felt a spurt of gratitude go through him. "Thank you, James," he breathed.
"Hey," the cop shot him a wry, affectionate smile, "What are boyfriends for?"
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