Wanted to grow old with him…
“Lucky?” Bo mumbled without completely breaking the kiss.
“Yeah.” Lucky drew back and attacked Bo’s neck, earning himself a moan.
“Never mind.”
Yup, Lucky still had the ability to derail Bo’s thoughts. He licked and sucked a path down Bo’s lightly furred chest, to the flat planes of his belly, down, down, where he wanted to be.
Bo’s cock stood proud and tall, a pearly bead clinging to the end. Lucky swiped the moisture away with his tongue.
Bo groaned, arching up toward Lucky’s mouth.
Lucky gripped the base of Bo’s straining erection. “You want some of this?” He licked from the base to the tip, in one long swath of this tongue, and grinned. His own flesh wanted attention, but he’d wait. He had a mission to complete.
With Bo’s fingers on the back of his head, urging him on, Lucky parted his lips and took Bo’s cock into his mouth.
“Oh, God!” came out on Bo’s breathy exhale. “That is so damned good it ought to be illegal.”
Lucky added suction, using Bo’s moans, whines, and snarled, “Stop teasing!” as his cues. Down to the base, up to the tip, holding back Bo’s foreskin, pressing his fingers behind Bo’s balls, a never-fail move to get him off quickly.
Not that Lucky necessarily wanted things to end soon, but…
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!” The volume rose with each “Oh, God!”
Bo shook in the throes of a lightning strike. “Now, Lucky, now!”
Lucky reached beside Bo and grabbed the cup.
***
Lucky trotted down the front steps, accelerating into a run when he reached the end of the driveway. He understood why the routine was part of their lives, but on an emotional level, he really didn’t want to think about what happened after Bo delivered the cup to Charlotte.
Earbuds in place, he matched his footfalls and breathing to the beat of something he’d downloaded at Ty’s urging with his birthday iTunes credits. Trance music and running went together well. A burn started in muscles not used nearly enough these days.
Thirty-nine. In his younger days, he’d thought thirty-nine ancient. Almost forty. He’d think himself over the hill now if not for the new beginning he found with Bo.
Suddenly, he’d learned how to live after years of fumbling in the dark. Wanted to live, needed to live.
One, two, three, four, he breathed out, rounding the corner and starting down the street toward the community clubhouse. Neatly kept lawns lined either side of the road, some with early spring flowers beginning to bud.
Other than the few empty houses in the neighborhood, most were impeccably kept. Not a paint peel in sight, except on Lucky’s own house, a fixer upper recovering from too many years of neglect and abuse.
Slow work. They’d get the house in order someday.
The scent of freshly mown grass floated on the light breeze, with a faint whiff of chicken manure from the fields two miles away, farmers readying the soil for hay season. He’d avoid the section of the neighborhood closest to the fields.
The sun shone down, knocking the chill from the air, and Lucky wiped sweat from his forehead with a swipe of his hand.
He’d have to bypass Oak Street and the Stevenson’s mean as hell Rottweiler.
The pat, pat, pat, of footfalls sounded behind him, even over his music. He moved to the side to let a faster runner past.
“Uncle Lucky, wait up!”
He turned, catching sight of red cheeks under a gray beanie. Ty? Running with him?
Ty caught up and fell into step beside Lucky, not saying a thing, simply matching steps. Could he actually want to spend time together outside a boxing ring or the occasional movie?
