Page 47 of Good Friends
“At lunch. I want to get married at lunch. Today.”
Porter gently grabbed his chin and made him look him in the eyes. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I mean, I don’t know if we can actually get married at lunch, but let’s at least go get the damn license so we can get married as soon as we can.”
The lines around the outsides of Porter’s brown eyes softened and slowly crinkled into a smile. “Gavin Hutchinson,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I, Sir.”
Porter tucked him against him again, his chin rubbing along the top of Gavin’s head. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way over at lunchtime.”
* * * *
It turned out they couldn’t get married because of both the three-day waiting period, and Gavin either needed his passport and birth certificate, in addition to his driver’s license, or he needed to renew his license early and present those papers, too, so they could certify his ID thanks to new laws.
But they had the form and a plan.
They spent Wednesday and Thursday nights fucking each other to exhaustion and sleeping at Gavin’s.
Friday, on his lunch break, Gavin was able to get to the county tax collector’s office, where they also issued driver’s licenses, and got that handled.
Friday night they locked themselves in Gavin’s apartment.
Porter’s lunchtime assignment had been going to his storage unit and digging his implement bag out. When he opened it that evening at Gavin’s, Gavin’s cock hardened and he dropped to his knees in front of it.
“Dammit, I missed this evil thing,” Gavin teased.
“My bag, or my cock?”
Gavin laughed. “Yes, Sir.”
Porter, also standing there naked, smiled down at him. His cock had hardened and the only reason Gavin didn’t have it down his throat right now was because Porter had told him no earlier. To wait.
“We can’t scare your neighbors,” Porter warned, his tone light. “Pick three less noisy things out of there that I can use on you before I fuck your brains out.”
Oh, it was no contest. Gavin immediately burrowed into the bag and dug through its contents. He selected his favorite riding crop, a narrow oak paddle, and a very stingy flogger.
He loved the playful smile Porter wore. “Reeeeallly? Not exactly soft and fuzzy.”
“You didn’t say soft and fuzzy, Sir. You said less noisy. I know the paddle’s a little noisy, but I love it.”
Porter took the implements from him. “Ass over. Now.”
Gavin jumped up, raced to the bed, and bent over the edge with his ass stuck out.
“Mmm. Yes, exactly.” He stroked his hands down Gavin’s back, shoulders to ass and back again. “I have missed this sooo much.” He leaned in and Gavin felt Porter’s warm breath against the nape of his neck.
Porter started with gentle nips that soon became hard bites, all the way down his spine.
It was amazing how fast he could drop Gavin into subspace, as if they hadn’t spent any time apart. All the old things still worked just as well.
The stingy flogger made Gavin arch his back and put him on his toes, but he loved every second of it, relished it.
Needed it. The pain and the warm, gorgeous rush that flowed in after every impact. By the time Porter started using the paddle on him, Gavin was down deep and sticking his ass out for every strike.
When Porter reached around him and started stroking his cock for him as he spanked him with the paddle, it nearly sent him over the edge.
Then the riding crop. That devilishly mean beast. Every stripe Porter laid in his flesh over the marks he knew he sported now singed long-dormant passion into fiery life. Upon setting that aside, Porter rolled him onto his back and draped Gavin’s legs over his shoulders as he went down on Gavin.
