Forbidden Desire

...It had been a bad day at work. A multi-car collision on the nearest freeway had filled every available paramedic ambulance and brought them to Stan’s hospital. He and every surgeon on staff they could muster had been in surgery all day repairing damaged bodies. Now fatigue had soaked into his bones. Too tired even to remove his clothes and shower, he’d managed to fix only a sandwich for supper, and he was holding half of it in one hand when the doorbell chimed.

A glance out the peephole showed a police officer dressed in a thick black jacket and hat standing with his back to the door. Stan’s heart lurched. Something must have happened to Brian, and they’d sent an officer to tell him. Before the illogic of that—because no one so far knew they were an item—had soaked in, the man turned, and joy sent Stan’s blood racing through his body. He flung the door wide.

“Hi,” Brian said, his face solemn as he removed his hat.

“What a wonderful surprise, Officer Storm.” He addressed him formally, tongue-in-cheek. “I didn’t expect you tonight. I just got home, and I haven’t listened to my messages.”

“Didn’t leave one. Took a chance you’d be here.” Brian stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind him. He removed his jacket and let it and his uniform hat fall to the floor. After taking Stan’s sandwich out of his hand, he laid it on a nearby table before drawing him into his arms. He pressed Stan’s face into his shoulder and rocked with him as if he never wanted to let him go.

Tired enough to drop, Stan rested in the strong arms that held him, in the feel of their bodies tight together from head to toe and the rhythmic movement of the two of them set by Brian. Suddenly, the fatigue of the day slipped away and all was right with the world because Brian—a Brian who must’ve conquered the images that had ruined sex and desire for him—was here, holding him. Stan kissed his neck and pulled back. “Hmm. You’re skin’s chilled despite that heavy jacket.”

Brian’s face showed determination as his mouth closed on Stan’s. At first soft and searching as he kissed Stan’s mouth at the corners, his tongue traced the line of his lips, and upon reaching center, sought entrance. Stan opened so their tongues could intertwine to taste and seek out the warm moisture inside and draw them closer as lovers. The pressure of Brian’s mouth increased, growing hotter and subtly demanding in an almost frantic way, as his fingers threaded through Stan’s hair and loosened it out of the conservative way it was combed and into a mass of soft curls. Then Brian’s hands made a slow journey across Stan’s shoulders and down his back, following the long curve of Stan’s spine until they slipped beneath slacks and briefs to cup his butt cheeks. One finger slid in to caress and play with the pucker between them.

Desire, hot and forbidden, flared in Stan’s chest, then shot down through navel and belly to unleash in his groin, instantly causing him to fill until he was hard and ready, every nerve in his being primed for love. Breathless from the delicious sensations roaring through him, he held back and let his lover make love to him.

When the hands slid around from the back to the front to cup and stroke what waited there for Brian’s touch, pleasure caused a soft moan to escape Stan’s throat. When Brian unhooked Stan’s trousers and slid down his briefs and slacks, he fought to stay upright and not give in to knees weakened by longing. When Brian knelt and took the length of him into his hot, tonguing mouth, Stan fought not to explode that instant, but to let the feelings crescendo to a mind-blowing eruption. Brian’s turn to be loved came next.

He looked down on the kneeling figure and the dark head so dear to him, so intent on coaxing him to climax…and saw a flat trouser front with no tenting created by an aroused dick.

Through a throat so filled with desire and need, he almost couldn’t voice the most difficult words he’d ever had to utter, he begged, “Stop, Brian...”