November Rain (12 page)

“Yes, yes…” Elias's whimpers rose, each one higher pitched than the last.

“You ready?” Joe whispered, because silly and romantic as it was, he wanted to finish together.

“Fuck, yes.” Elias reached back, cupping Joe's head. Elias's hips whipped at the mattress.

Joe loved the sweat forming between their bodies and Elias's gasp every time Joe went deep. He loved the build and the tear and even the way Elias's moans got breathy.

“Fuck, honey…” Joe clamped his eyes closed. He pressed his forehead to Elias's back and held him so hard Elias might have bruises. Joe felt like his heart was pumping into his groin, pouring out his dick. And on the next stroke, Elias whined and cried as he came too.

“Love you so much.” Joe couldn't seem to stop saying it as they collapsed together onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heat and cocks still pumping. Elias cuddled into him, spent and perfect.

Elias murmured, “Me too,” and wove their legs together under the covers.

Joe drifted, not sure if he was awake or asleep, only that he was in heaven.

“Joe?” Elias twisted slightly, lifting his head with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Yeah?” Joe would give him anything.

“Tomorrow will you wear those underwear for me? The ones you got the day of the shooting?”

“Really?” Joe never actually wore stuff like that and had only bought them to get a rise out of Elias. Still, he loved the idea of Elias mouthing him over the fabric. “Sure thing. But we need to get a pair for you too.”

Joe imagined nights around the apartment, modeling overpriced underpants for one another, before stripping them off with tongues and teeth. Good thing Elias got a store discount.

“If you like,” Elias said coyly. His expression was all smiles, and Joe was so damn proud to have put it there. “We can shop in the morning.”

Epilogue

The apartment was filled with dust, but Elias thought he was making progress. He wore gloves up to his elbows. Joe had teased him that they were perverted, though Elias couldn't imagine what a man would do with them.

“Can we bring things up?” Joe called from downstairs.

“Um…” Elias peered around the space. The living room was still a mess, but he'd cleaned out the bedroom. Hurrying back in there, he swept one more time. “Okay. But only the one room. I haven't touched the kitchen yet.”

The duplex apartment next door to Sara and Solomon had come up for rent by April, but it had taken until May for Joe and Elias to finish all the paperwork to move in. Too bad they hadn't had time to paint, but Elias hoped to keep all their furniture away from the walls until they had a chance to change the color from the weird pinkish-mauve the old lady had painted to something more neutral.

“Wow. It looks better up here already.” Joe kissed Elias on the cheek as he passed, carrying a pile of boxes.

“It does.” Solomon was behind him, carrying somewhat less.

In the months since Joe's recovery, he had become a bit manic about his physical health. Not that Elias could complain. Joe looked amazing naked.

“This color, though…” Sara brought up the rear of their parade, carrying some pots and pans from her house next door. The box, she held on her hip rather than in front of her. Since she'd found out she was pregnant, she made sure everyone could see her belly so they'd notice the instant she started showing.

Elias had told her they were fine with the kitchen supplies Joe would move from his apartment, but as usual she hadn't listened.

“I know. This color is horrible.” Elias cocked his head, wondering what else to paint to make the new place feel like home. “What do you think? Maybe gray?”

“Too sad.” Sara shook her head. “White or yellow.”

Elias smirked. He was looking forward to getting out of Solomon and Sara's place in part because it was so bright. He felt like he never left the sales floor.

“Whatever you want.” Joe gave him a wink from the bedroom door. Elias's brother turned away out of embarrassment, but Elias didn't care. He and Joe would be living together. They could live in a basement and he'd be happy.

“I think gray, then. Bluish gray.” Elias could picture how sleepy and calm it would look in the morning, and how it would bring out the green in Joe's eyes.

“You Seattle people are crazy.” Sara shook a finger at him, and then headed downstairs for another load.

Solomon chuckled at his wife and followed her.

“You think we're crazy?” Joe asked, crossing the room to pull Elias into a hug.

“Maybe. They say it happens because of the rain.”

Joe kissed his cheek, rubbing his nose to the spot right under Elias's jaw. “Then I'll take crazy.”

About the Author

Retired party girl and '80s film enthusiast, Daisy Harris spends most of her time writing sexy romance and plotting the fall of Western civilization. Ms. Harris lives in Seattle, where she tortures her husband by making it rain. She enjoys watching bridges cause traffic, watching football games cause traffic and blithely wearing wool socks with sandals.

She has two little girls who've challenged Ms. Harris's feminist tendencies by insisting that makeup and high heels are appropriate for every occasion, including rock climbing and camping trips.

Daisy writes M/M romance about gods, zombies, firefighters and college boys. She's never missed an episode of
The Walking Dead
.

Find Daisy on Twitter as
@thedaisyharris
, on the web at
www.thedaisyharris.com
and on Tumblr at
http://holsumcollege.tumblr.com/
.

Look for these titles by Daisy Harris

Now Available:

Fire and Rain

From the Ashes

After the Rain

Nothing but Smoke

Coming Soon:

David's Selfie

They're going to need a bigger tent.

After the Rain

© 2014 Daisy Harris

Fire and Rain, Book 2

Henri's list of bad exes is as long as his arm, but nothing prepared him for his latest, heart-stomping breakup. He thought he couldn't feel more abandoned, until his ride for a group camping trip bails, leaving him stuck driving for hours with a guy who is absolutely not his type.

After breaking up with his girlfriend of five years, firefighter Logan is working up the nerve to explore his interest in men. He knows he's gay. He just hasn't had the guts to do anything about it…until now.

Henri's big-city attitude and tight jeans push every last one of Logan's buttons, and when he and Henri have to share a tent, Logan is thrilled. He should have realized Pacific Northwest weather would get wet—forcing them to strip naked.

Though the steam between them is thicker than coastal fog, Henri's not sure he can let himself fall for another man. Not even the guy who finally treats him right.

Warning: Contains bad ex-boyfriends, even worse weather, and more than your average amount of sex in a tent. May not be suitable for those with germ phobias, outdoor aversions or fear of damp shoes.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
After the Rain:

“Here.” Henri came over with a couple marshmallows pinched between graham crackers. He handed one to Logan, smirking. Moonlight teased at Henri's cheekbones, darkening Henri's eyes.

It was all Logan could do not to kiss him, but instead Logan shoved the s'more in his mouth.

“You going to eat that whole thing?” Henri said it with a hitch to his eyebrow that was pure suggestion.

Logan laughed around his bite, spraying a fine mist of graham cracker crumbs. Oh God, Henri must have thought he was the world's biggest dope. But Henri's smile was kind as he reached up and wiped a bit of chocolate off the edge of Logan's lips.

Damn, Logan wanted to take that finger and suck it into his mouth. No. No way. Henri had said
maybe
. He'd held Logan's hand. Finger sucking was definitely off the menu.

With a coy grin, Henri bit his s'more in half. His shapely lips were all coated in melted marshmallow and chocolate, and Logan wanted to lick it off so badly he could wait a month if he had to.

Somewhere nearby, guys began drumming. Logan couldn't see them, but from the general shift in the air, he could tell that the crowd had gotten excited.

“Oh God.” Henri leaned into him, resting his forehead on Logan's shoulder. “I really hate drum circles.”

Logan froze, suspended in a place between not believing his luck and being terrified to fuck things up. Henri's hair smelled so good, and his body was lithe and small but also strong and sinewy. Logan wanted to clutch Henri, grab him, haul him closer. With Soleil, it had never been like this. He'd never felt so turned on it was almost scary.

“The drummin' part or the circle part?” Logan forced his voice not to crack. Slowly, he lifted his hand to hover over Henri's back. He waited long seconds, wondering if Henri would pull away. When Henri let out a sigh and relaxed against Logan's chest, he brought his palm to rest between Henri's shoulders.

“Both.”

Giving in, Logan dropped his head to rub his cheek against Henri's hair. Oh hell, he could do this—only this—all night. Standing there under the stars just holding Henri…Logan didn't know why he'd worried about blowjobs and fucking and the rest of it.

“Attention!” On the other side of the campfire, Buck stood on a picnic table. He held his hands up, palms out, in the universal sign for quiet down.

The drumming slowed to a low-pitched beat, and the guys lowered their voices.

“It's time for a polar bear dip!” Buck ripped his shirt over his head and beat his fists against his chest.

Okay, this Logan had not been expecting. He looked to Henri for direction, but Henri's mouth hung open in horror.

“Oh, hell no.” Henri wound his arms around his torso as if someone might run over and try to tear his clothes off.

All around them, men stripped. Buck waved, pointing at the ridge and the river beyond. Logan hoped all the guys stuck to the section where the water pooled in a lagoon and didn't venture into the river itself. In the dark, it could be dangerous.

“Come on, gentlemen!” After a few shouts from the lesbians in attendance, Buck added, “And ladies.”

“You sure you don't want to go?” Logan imagined he knew the answer, but he still had to ask. Maybe it was like river rafting and Henri needed to be cajoled into joining the fun.

“Not if the river were peppermint mocha.” Henri cuddled into Logan's side, but whether it was for warmth or because he was as reluctant to let go as Logan was, Logan couldn't tell. “I'm pretty beat.” When Henri tilted his head, their eyes met. “And I bet Michael has all kinds of activities to torture us with tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Logan's belly lurched at the idea of lying together in a tent in the dark, but at the same time, his heart kicked up to pounding. “I'm tired too.”

One by one, they got their sleep clothes out of their bags, and together they headed to the bathrooms. Logan caught Henri's eye in the bathroom mirror as they stood brushing their teeth. Maybe it was because there was a toothbrush in Henri's mouth and his lips were dripping with toothpaste, but it looked like he was smiling for real, not even a smirk this time. His dark eyes crinkled around the edges and sparkled in the yellow halogen lights.

Every muscle on Logan's body tensed and quivered, like he could run five miles at a sprint. Much as Logan wanted to keep things PG in the tent, he hoped they rubbed off together at the end. Didn't matter if it was an unspoken thing like the night before or a more
together
experience with them whispering encouragement to each other, because otherwise there would be no way in hell Logan would be able to sleep.

He tried not to look when Henri hurried out of his clothes and into his flannel pajamas, but he couldn't miss Henri's long back and the thick hair on his thighs. Logan turned around to change before Henri could catch him watching.

“You want to try to stream something tonight?” Henri came over, both his body language and his gaze more guarded than they'd been before. Maybe Logan had read this whole thing wrong. “If everyone else heads back to the campfire after they swim, we might get the chance.” He dragged on a sweater, rubbing his arms. “Or maybe they'll all have hypothermia and fall asleep.”

“Sure.” Logan hid his disappointment. “Sounds fun.”

A few minutes later they climbed into the tent. Maybe it was Logan's imagination, but now that they were in the dark again, Henri seemed to brush against him an awful lot as he adjusted his sleeping bag in the tent.

The drums and men's chatter in the distance sounded tribal, primitive. They spurred Logan on. He should be doing something, he knew this. His palms itched to grab, and his blood pumped like lightning through his veins. If only he could figure out what in the fuck he was supposed to do.

“You really want me to keep this here?” Henri dug in the suitcase that separated their sleep pads. Shadows hid his expression.

“No.” Logan cleared his throat, his voice hoarse with an equal mixture of fear and lust.

Henri must have felt it too, that energy buzzing between them. Logan couldn't be imagining the way Henri's pale billows of breath were slow and rhythmic, or the way Henri kept leaning toward him before pulling away.

“Okay. Then I'll put it down by my feet.” He picked up the bag and twisted, getting on his hands and knees directly in front of Logan. It was all too easy for Logan to imagine lying across his back to kiss his neck.

As if he heard Logan's thoughts, Henri stilled. There was a long, limitless minute while Logan wondered if Henri was waiting for him to do something, maybe crawl over him and do exactly what he was thinking about. Or maybe Henri was gearing up to tell Logan he needed to find somewhere else to sleep.

Henri backed up a few inches, so his heels almost touched Logan's knees. Logan didn't move. Mind gone blank, he held his ground while Henri slowly lifted up to kneeling. Henri's back was to Logan's front, only a foot away.

“Logan?” Henri's voice was more tentative than anything Logan had heard him say so far.

“Yeah?” He would have done anything Henri said right then—slept on the ground, sucked him off, made love to him. Logan would have spread and let Henri fuck him, if that's what Henri wanted.

“If you want…” Henri's words were little more than a breath but still loud in the silence of their tent.

“Yeah?” Logan rasped, unable to think about anything but the tension in Henri's shoulders and the way Henri smelled.

“Just don't kiss me, okay? Not on the lips.”