grassisgreener

happy  people  wandering  around  would  be  the  perfect
thing  to  intercut  with  close-ups  of  blooming  flowers.
Brett Thomas gazed out from his bedroom window and
wished that today of all days was going to be anything
but  nice,  and  that  some  drastic  event  would  occur  to
change the climate.

Of course, freak storms didn't have a habit of popping

up  in  the  middle  of  summer  in  California.  Short  of
sacrificing a chicken by the light of the full moon, there
was nothing to prevent the weather from being pleasant
today.  Not  that  he'd  want  to  hurt  a  chicken  that  way.
Now  a  turkey,  on  the  other  hand,  he  wouldn't  feel  as
guilty about…

Kirby, Brett's housemate and best friend, interrupted

further  thoughts  about  the  ethics  of  proper  sacrificial
poultry  by  poking  his  head  through  the  open  door.  He
glared  with  disdain  at  the  holey  shorts  and  ragged  T-
shirt  that  Brett  was  wearing.  "If  this  is  your  idea  of
getting ready, you really need your head examined."

"Jesus, you've been working at snotty department

stores for too long. That face looks like something your
customers would pull."

"Whatever. Get your ass out of that chair. Now."

Kirby was only slightly shorter than average, but he was
still able to loom over Brett.

"I changed my mind. I'm not up for coffee," Brett

replied.

Skeptical didn't even begin to describe Kirby's

dubious expression. "Bullshit. You're moping about
Hank again."

"It's not wrong to angst about him! We were in love,

he had an awesome job, and he loved to bottom to me.
We broke up because I suck!"

"Correction. You were in love; he was in love with

being in love. His job was awesome next to yours

because he worked in an office and you waited tables.
And he bottomed because he was a selfish bastard. How
many times did he ignore the fact that you just weren't
up to it?"

Brett flinched at that. That had been a sore point

between them -- Hank had a sex drive that just wouldn't
quit and he never had bad days at the office. Hank also
had  always  been  an  epic  failure  in  understanding  why
Brett  hadn't  had  the  energy  to  top  on  the  days  he  had
arrived  home  exhausted.  Even  after  he'd  explained  that
he'd  been  covering  twice  the  number  of  tables  because
one  of  his  co-workers  had  been  ill,  Hank  had  sulked
until Brett had hauled out his gear.

The breakup had been ugly; it had devolved into a

huge screaming match where both of them had tried to
verbally rip each other to pieces. Hank had yelled insults
that had cut Brett so deep that he'd attempted to drown
his sorrows at the first bar he could find.

Brett sighed at the painful memories resurfacing. "He

didn't listen to me a lot. But I still don't feel like going."

"Don't feel like going, or are you trying to avoid

Damien?" Kirby replied.

Ouch. There was no way he was going to

acknowledge that Kirby hit the nail on the head. "I am
not…"

"You are so avoiding Damien. Are you crazy? He's

the nicest guy on the planet. Look, I talk about him all
the time with you, just like I always talk about you all
the time with him. And I have no fucking clue why you
guys' schedules kept horking on each other."

That wasn't one hundred percent true. Brett and

Damien finally had the same time off today. And their
schedules had synced up the night Brett and Hank had
broken up.

Kirby had been trying to get Damien Young and

Brett  to  meet  each  other  for  ages.  Damien  had  started
out  working  the  afternoon  shift  with  Kirby  in  the
Evening  Wear  department,  but  after  a  month,  he'd
switched  to  a  schedule  that  only  had  a  few  hours  of
overlap  with  Kirby's.  Brett  had  heard  many  stories  of
how  patient  and  cool  Damien  was  with  the  customers;
Kirby  often  handed  the  difficult  ones  over  to  Damien
because he was better at getting them to cool down.

Brett picked at a thread on his shorts. "Still want to

stay in."

"Fuck that. You need to get out. All you've done

since you moved from yours and Hank's place to mine is
eat, go to work, and sit in your bedroom. Oh wait, you're
not always so good about the eating part."

It was obvious that Kirby wasn't going to let this go

until Brett explained the real reason for his balking. He
took a deep breath and said, "I-I just can't face Damien
after I made such an ass out of myself."

"Right." Kirby looked Brett right in the eye. "He

doesn't care what you did while you were trying to
replace your blood with alcohol at the White Swallow. I
called and told him about the break up after I had put
you to bed that night. He understands."

Brett mumbled, "Sure he does."
"Damn it, I keep telling you that he's non-judgmental.

Even if you had dry humped him, he would have filed it
under  'You're  just  behaving  this  way  because  you're
extremely  upset,  no  big  deal'.  You're  lucky  that  you
blurted  out  my  name  to  him,  so  he  knew  to  call  me  so
that I could come over and haul your soused, dumb ass
back to my place."

Brett said without heat, "Shut up, bastard."
"Dip shit," Kirby said. He tried to harden his

expression into a schoolmarm-like frown, but he wound
up cracking up.

Brett snickered and whacked Kirby lightly on the

arm. "Fine, fine. I'll go. But I'm leaving if he makes fun
of me."

"He won't make fun of you." Finally convinced, Brett

threw on some better clothes and indicated that he was
ready. They hopped into Kirby's old beater after they
locked up and drove to their neighborhood Starbucks.

There was a teeming throng of people waiting in line,

and Kirby walked past the crowd slowly. After a
thorough pass, he joined Brett at the end of the queue.
"That's weird, he's usually on time."

"Did he leave a voice mail? You keep forgetting to

turn the sound up on your cell."

Kirby pulled out his smart phone and glanced down.

"Oh fuck, he sent me a text while I was driving. He got
sidetracked by a last minute customer and he'll be here
soon. He says to go ahead and order, and he'll catch up."

"By the time we get served, he'll be here," Brett said.

He was right at first; the line moved at a pace that would
put a snail to sleep, but then an extra cashier signed in
and things picked up. Damien still hadn't arrived by the
time they made it to the counter, so Brett ordered his
favorite -- a blended drink with enough extra whipped
cream to cover a triple scoop sundae.

Kirby gave the mountain of whiteness a scowl that

would earn him a prime spot on Team Bitchface. "It's
not fair that someone as tiny as you are can eat as much
as you want and never put on weight."

"Deal. You're just dissing this dee-licious cream

because everything goes straight to your gut." He took a
sip and let out an exaggerated moan while Kirby flipped
him off. A table became vacant at that point, so the two
of them pounced on it.

The cream was starting to melt a little and it was

sliding down the side of the cup, so Brett started licking

it up to prevent a mess. He was lapping at it with
enthusiasm when a tall, stunning, dark-haired man
walked through the door with long strides. Brett felt his
jaw drop. Tall and Gorgeous was dressed in clothes that
made him utterly drool-worthy: a T-shirt that hugged his
well-muscled chest, and a pair of skin-tight jeans clung
to a pair of legs that went on forever. To top it off, the
denim highlighted a firm ass which was an eleven on a
scale of one to ten.

"There he is," Kirby said, indicating Tall and

Gorgeous.

Brett felt his cheeks heat up by ten degrees and he

really, really, really hoped that he hadn't tried something
stupid that night. Then a flash of memory hit him --
Damien's strong arms were holding him up after he had
toppled off the bar stool. The citrusy and earthy cologne
that Damien was wearing had smelled awesome and he'd
wanted to burrow closer.

In fact... he had. He now remembered how he'd

pressed his face to Damien's broad chest and had
breathed in several lungfuls of air. Ugh. Was it too late
to hop into a time machine and go back so that he could
prevent himself from being such a total dweeb?

Oh God, now Damien was coming over to their table.

Brett  was  about  to  bolt  out  of  his  chair,  but  Kirby
grabbed  his  arm  in  an  almost  painful  grip.  "Oh  no...
You're  not  flying  the  coop  on  me,"  he  said  in  a  low
voice.

Kirby had thirty pounds on Brett and three inches of

height, so there was no way Brett could break loose with
just raw strength. Brett hissed, "Leggo! Don't make
me..."

"Use your ninja tricks to get out? Do you really want

to out the fact that you got training in how to overpower
larger guys for kinky purposes in a public place?"

Brett felt the wind go out of his sails. The great thing

about having a BFF that knew everything and anything
about you, including your sex life, was that you didn't
have to censor yourself at all. All topics were fair game.
The bad thing about having a BFF that knew everything
and anything about you was that he had an endless
supply of blackmail material. "I hate you."

"Say that after we're done..." Damien was within a

foot of them, so Kirby let go and said, "Hey, Damien!"

"Hi guys!" Damien said. "I'm sorry I'm late -- a very

frantic woman came in just as I was about to close up.
She needed a new dress for her twentieth high school
reunion tomorrow and it had to be in melon."

Kirby rolled his eyes. "We have plenty of stock in

melon. What about that recent shipment of strapless
gowns?"

"Those were more tea rose... Anyway, I don't think

Brett  wants  to  hear  about  work."  There  wasn't  a  lot  of
space  between  tables,  so  Damien  had  to  do  a  bit  of
maneuvering  in  order  to  get  into  the  empty  seat  across
from Brett.

Brett replied, "Hey, I don't care."
"Well, I do. How are you? You were in pretty bad

shape the last time I saw you," Damien said.

"Like I'm doing so great now," Brett mumbled under

his breath. He must have said it just loud enough for
Kirby to hear because he felt a sharp kick to his foot.
"Um, fine."

Damien said, "Are you really sure you're fine? You

look a little pale."

"I'm sure. I, uh, I've been working a lot of late nights

so I haven't been getting any sun." Yeah, that sounded
lame, but he didn't want to talk about That Night. Kirby
gave him a huge amount of stink eye, but Brett didn't
care.

He waited for Kirby to start chattering again, hoping

that  once  the  small  talk  started,  he  could  huddle  in  his
seat  and  be  ignored.  The  asshole  derailed  his  plans  by
standing  up  and  saying,  "Hey,  Damien,  since  you  had
the Last Minute Customer from Hell, let me buy you a
coffee. What would you like?"

"A grande Americano," Damien replied.
"You got it," Kirby rose and made his way over to the

cashier, leaving the two of them alone. Brett was at a
loss for words. He wanted to say something, but he
didn't want to come off as an idiot.

The paper java jacket around his cup suddenly

became a subject of fascination and he started picking at
it. Fortunately, Damien broke the ice, "So… I know
Kirby from work. How did you meet him?"

Brett smiled. "In high school. We came from a small

town and we were the only gay kids there, so we had to
stick together to keep the jocks from picking on us.
Nothing they loved better than cornering a skinny little
fairy all by his lonesome and administering a beat
down."

"Fuckers. I wish I'd been there so that I could show

them that they should pick on someone their own size."
Damien's eyes narrowed, but there was something about
his protective attitude that sent a tingle traveling down
Brett's spine.

That was weirding Brett out, because he'd always

been very independent. He didn't need someone else to
stand up for him. "Um… I guess you didn't have trouble
in high school?"

Damien nodded. "I hit my growth spurt in ninth grade

and I started getting into heavy metal. Being tall and
wearing leather and spikes scared most of the kids
away."

A picture flashed in Brett's head of Damien's

imposing  figure  striding  down  the  hallway  wearing  a
huge leather jacket and an expression that just screamed
"Don't  Fuck  with  Me".  Brett  felt  his  cock  stir,  and  he
wondered  if  the  air-conditioning  was  broken  because  it
all of a sudden felt like the room was sweltering.

"Hey, are you okay?" Damien reached across and

patted  Brett's  hand,  but  as  soon  as  he  made  contact,
something jolted Brett down to his core. What in Hell?
It  had  only  been  a  couple  of  weeks  since  the  break-up
and  he  was  lusting  after  someone  he  barely  knew?  He
gulped when he heard a sharp inhale from Damien and
saw the confused expression on Damien's face.

Brett coughed and tried to find some footing. "Are

you still a metal head?"

"Not now. I just listened to it to freak people out so

they would leave me alone. I stopped once I got to
college and found out that I didn't have to prove
anything to anyone but myself."

"God, why did high school have to suck? The fucking

popularity games… where the jocks are allowed to get
away with all kinds of shit."

Damien said, "I landed in detention because I

punched someone on the football team."

"Really?"
"I'm not a violent person, but he was picking on my

boyfriend at the time. I saw red and the next thing I
knew, the jock was on the ground with a black eye."

There it was again, that caveman attitude. It made

Brett shiver and he wondered why. He had always
topped: why in Hell was Damien's bossiness making his
stomach flutter?

Fortunately, Kirby returned with Damien's drink at

that point and they switched back to small talk. Over the
next few hours, Brett was amazed at the number of
things he and Damien had in common. They liked the

same  TV  shows,  listened  to  a  lot  of  the  same  groups,
and liked the same movies. They finally had to call it a
night,  but  Brett  had  to  admit  that  he  was  looking
forward  to  meeting  Damien  again.  He  hoped  that  they
were going to be seeing more of each other.

***

Brett glanced at his watch and noticed that Damien

was late. He had kind of grown to expect that over the
past  many  months.  It  wasn't  an  uncommon  thing  for
Damien to get side-tracked by someone needing a favor
or  by  something  last  minute  coming  up  at  work.
Fortunately, he had a workaround to keep himself from
eating  the  table  because  he  was  starving  -- he  always
picked  Mexican  restaurants  for  their  dinners  together.
That  way,  it  didn't  matter  how  long  Damien  took,
because  they  supplied  generous  bowls  of  tortilla  chips
that Brett could nibble on while he was waiting.

He ate another chip and savored the smoky chipotle

taste of the salsa. After their first meeting, he and
Damien had started getting together for coffee a couple
of times a week. The couple of times had increased to
several times, and then every day.

They had grown fairly close, but two topics were

never  talked  about  -- exactly  what  they  liked  in  the
bedroom,  and  the  night  Brett  had  gotten  soused.  With
the  first,  Brett  was  pretty  sure  that  Damien  was  a
"candlelit  dinner,  rose  petals  on  the  bed"  type  of  guy,
judging  by  the  fact  that  all  of  his  dates  had  involved
some activity that was romantic. And if he wasn't a top,
Brett was going to strip naked, roll in yellow paint, and
streak down the street.

As for the second, Brett wasn't sure he wanted to

know exactly what had happened, especially since his

imagination kept working overtime while he was asleep.
He often had dreams about Damien's large body pinning
him down. He struggled, but he couldn't get free. All he
could do was cry out in pleasure while Damien fucked
him so hard his eyes rolled back into his head.

Brett often woke up afterward with a mess in his

sheets and a severe case of embarrassment. To this day,
he  couldn't  figure  out  what  the  fuck  his  subconscious
was trying to tell him -- the one time he'd bottomed was
when  he  lost  his  cherry  and  it  had  been  so  awful  that
he'd decided that he would never do it again. Fortunately
for  him,  there  were  men  in  the  BDSM  community  that
had  a  kink  for  a  much  smaller  person  overpowering
them. He enjoyed the control of being a top, so he had
no  idea  why  he  was  fantasizing  about  the  role  reversal
with Damien.

As if he didn't consider sleeping with Damien.

Sometimes,  when  they  were  alone,  the  sexual  tension
was so thick that Brett swore he could almost see a line
of visible energy crackling back and forth between their
bodies.  However,  Damien  never  pushed  it  on  his  end,
and Brett was gun shy about commitment anyway after
what  had  happened  with  Hank.  They  were  supposed  to
be  forever  and  everything  had  turned  sour  after  three
years. Maybe he just wasn't boyfriend material.

Brett suddenly noticed Damien entering the

restaurant and he ignored the typical little thrill shooting
through his body.

"Sorry I'm late," Damien said while he pulled out the

chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down.

"Hey, no problem." Brett pushed the dish of salsa

fresca toward Damien. "Cilantro free, just the way you
like it."

"You're an angel. I really am sorry, but the old lady

downstairs needed help getting into her apartment. The

door sticks sometimes and..."

"You're the only one big and manly enough to push it

open. Are you sure she's not crushing on you?" Brett
replied.

Damien grabbed a chip and flicked it at him. "You've

got a dirty mind."

"The guy two nights ago loved my dirty mind."
"The one who kicked you out at two in the morning

because  he  didn't  tell  you  that  he  had  a  boyfriend?"
When  Brett  scrunched  his  face  up,  Damien  said,  "Hey,
I'm  not  judging.  I'm  just  glad  you  took  me  up  on  my
offer. I was worried after you were stranded last week."

That had been a fiasco. Brett's car had stalled after

he'd left his hook-up for the night's place and he didn't
want  to  go  back  because  that  guy  had  been  a  little
creepy.  Kirby  had  been  dead  asleep,  and  hadn't
answered Brett's call, so Brett had to call a taxi and had
waited  for  ages  for  it  to  show  up.  When  Brett  had
bitched to Damien about it later, Damien had made Brett
promise  to  call  him,  no  matter  what  the  hour,  if  he
needed  a  ride.  Brett  had  resisted  at  first,  but  Damien
wouldn't let the subject go until Brett had agreed.

He was glad that Damien had been so stubborn. He'd

been feeling bummed after Loser Hook-Up with a
Boyfriend had ejected him from his apartment. After
Damien had arrived, he'd given Brett a hug, which was
just the thing Brett had needed.

Brett let out a dreamy sigh at the memory of

Damien's arms around him. Damien's hugs were not for
the  meek  -- he  embraced  with  his  entire  body,  often
surrounding Brett's smaller frame completely. It should
have  been  smothering,  but  Brett  loved  the  feeling.  He
felt like the world was being locked out, and it was just
him  and  that  wonderful  earthy-citrus  scent  tickling  his
nose.

He suddenly realized what path his brain was

traveling and yanked himself back to reality. "Well, I'm
glad you're a light sleeper and you actually came to get
my lame ass. I really know how to pick them, huh?
Although Hank still tops my list of ginormous losers."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. He was the first guy

you ever fell in love with."

"Yeah. I guess I could pull the whole 'I was young

and stupid' excuse, but I don't think I'm allowed to use
that phrase yet because I'm only twenty-three." He
paused because the waiter came by to take their order.

They picked out what they wanted for dinner and

after the server departed, Damien said, "Well, now you
have something to look forward to when you hit thirty.
You can definitely use it then." He grabbed a chip and
scooped up a huge blob of salsa. When he brought it
close to his mouth, some of the liquid dripped off the
side and landed almost near the corner of his jaw.

Brett's throat went dry when Damien's tongue flicked

out to lick up the red droplets. Damn, that was one long
tongue. Oh God, that thing could do some incredible
stuff to his ass...

Bad Brett, bad! Do. Not. Go. There. Brett grabbed his

Tecate and chugged it quickly to distract himself.

Damien seemed oblivious to Brett's inner turmoil. He

crunched on another chip and said, "Hey, there's an idea.
Maybe you could put aging make-up on yourself for
Steve's Halloween party."

Shit. He'd forgotten they were going to brainstorm on

costumes tonight. Steve's party was in a few days, and
both of them had been so busy that they hadn't decided
on what to wear. "We're shit out of luck. All that's left at
the party store are either seventies leisure suits or
military camos."

"I can't imagine you as a SEAL, sorry," Damien said.

"Or me."

"Well, fuck. Now what?" The waiter arrived with

their food and the two of them tried a few more ideas,
but they were either lame or impractical. Brett was about
ready to die of frustration when a wild thought popped
into his head. "You know what? I think we're locking up
because we're thinking too conventionally. Let's have a
few more beers and see if we come up with something."

Damien said, "Might as well. I'm drawing a blank."
They called for another round and Brett said, "So,

how did your call to Louis go? Is he still browbeating
you for not going to grad school?"

Damien sighed. "Yeah. And then you know what

happened next."

"Epic levels of yelling." It still amazed Brett that

Damien's  older  brother  could  trigger  that  reaction.
Damien got along great with the rest of his family, but
Louis  always  managed  to  hone  in  on  something  that
would  make  Damien  get  pissed.  "And  he  probably
called you Scooter the whole time, too. When in the Hell
is he gonna quit using that damn nickname?"

"Never. In his mind, I'm still the kid who accidentally

dyed  the  cat  blue  at  Easter  and  dog-eared  all  of  his
comics."  The  waiter  arrived  with  their  Tecates  at  this
point,  so  Brett  and  Damien  paused  so  that  they  could
down  some  of  the  beer.  They  then  continued  to  chat
about  their  families,  the  lack  of  a  good  dating  pool  for
Damien, the lack of non-skeezy hook-ups for Brett, and
other  subjects  while  they  continued  to  order  more
alcohol.

Brett was feeling loose-limbed and very warm when

he noticed Damien's face lighting up. "Hey, it worked. I
have an idea for the party."

"What?" Brett replied.
"Why don't we both go in something leather? I bet

you I can still squeeze into my high school stuff. Do you
have anything?"

Uh-oh, that statement caused all of Brett's blood to

rush south. Which is probably why instead of saying he
didn't believe in wearing dead cows, he blurted out, "Oh
no. My stuff is too skimpy."

"So? You're not shy," Damien said.
"No. Uh-uh, nyet," Brett replied.
Damien, the bastard, leaned across the table and

purred in a tone that was pure sex, "Why not? I'd love to
see you in leather. Promise, for me?"

What could Brett do but agree? He was kicking

himself for his decision through the rest of dinner and on
the ride home with Damien. And then, right before he
walked through the door, he gave himself another couple
of mental boots.

Kirby was watching YouTube videos on his

computer. "What's with the long face? Are you finally
regretting your latest addition to the loser parade?"

Brett gave Kirby the nastiest glare he could think of,

which wasn't very effective because the bastard wouldn't
turn away from the monitor. "Fuck off."

"Your fault for picking him. I swear, you should just

carry  a  measuring  tape  with  you,  because  it  seems  like
your  only  criteria  is  dick  size."  Brett  glanced  over
Kirby's shoulder and saw that he was staring at a music
video.  It  was  pretty  boring  except  for  the  fact  that  an
amazingly buff love interest was stripping off his shirt.

"Shut up and help me. Damien talked me into

wearing my leather gear to Steve's party."

"So?" Kirby replied.
Brett made an indignant noise. "I can't wear that shit

around him!"

"Why not?"
"He might get the wrong idea," Kirby replied.

"What wrong idea? You're so in love with him it's not

funny. Why you haven't ripped his clothes off yet and let
him fuck you into next Sunday is something I'll never
understand."

"I'm not in love with him and there's no way in Hell

I'm spreading my legs."

Kirby hit pause on the video and turned around.

"Really? Seriously, really? You are too in love with him.
And are you saying that you won't bottom because you
really don't like it, or is it because you kept dating
assholes who I wouldn't let near my debit card? Before
you let Allen take your cherry, you broke how many
vibrators?"

"Fuck off. You're just jealous because I hang out

more with Damien."

"I'm not jealous, I'm just wondering how two adults

can be so goddamned oblivious. Hell, I'll even let you
borrow my car if it'll help get you both together," Kirby
replied.

"You are so totally wrong."
"And you're being such a moron that I'm surprised

you can figure out how to put your pants on in the
morning," Kirby said.

Brett flipped him off and stomped into the bedroom,

making sure to give the door a drama queen worthy
slam.

He flopped on the bed and tried not to sulk. So what

if he hung out with Damien every night, unless he had a
hook-up? It didn't mean anything. And the time Damien
had  called  Brett  after  he  had  fought  with  Louis  didn't
mean that they were in love. And so what if Damien had
camped  out  in  the  emergency  room  after  Brett  had
accidentally  burned  himself  when  he  had  dropped  a
bowl of super-hot soup on his hand?

Brett yawned and decided he needed to get some

sleep. He closed his eyes, but he kept tossing and
turning because his mind refused to be quiet. He tried to
relax, and soon, a familiar weightless feel overtook him.

A hazy image of Damien appeared in front of him.

Damien was wearing a leather waist cincher and his blue
eyes were rimmed with kohl. He wrapped his arms
around Brett, "You're so fucking beautiful, baby. I want
you so badly..."

"Do whatever you want to me," Brett replied. "I trust

you with my body and my heart."

The dream Damien then grabbed Brett and slammed

him facedown onto a bed. His clothes were ripped off
his body, and he moaned as a tidal wave of lust flooded
through him. He groaned when he felt Damien entering
him and he arched back, begging and crying out for
more...

When Brett snapped awake, he was pumping his cock

at a furious pace. A scant minute later, his balls drew up
and he had to push his fist into his mouth to muffle his
screams. Hot liquid spurted out, coating his chest, his
neck, and even his chin.

It took a few minutes for Brett to come down to Earth

and he slapped his forehead when he realized what had
happened. What the fuck? This was ridiculous! Why the
Hell  was  he  fantasizing  about  bottoming?  He  never
wanted  to  let  himself  be  hurt  like  that  again,  although
Damien would be the last person to do so. In fact, Brett
was  pretty  sure  that  Damien  would  make  an  awesome
top  -- he  was  very  attentive  and  he  was  excellent  at
figuring  out  what  someone  was  feeling  based  on  non-
verbal cues. He also already had points for attitude -- he
was a bossy motherfucker. A nice motherfucker about it,
but  if  Damien  wanted  something,  he  would  gently
persuade a person until they gave him what he wanted.

The dream conversation and the argument with Kirby

replayed in Brett's mind and then it hit him like a two by
four -- Kirby was right -- he was in love with Damien.
He  had  been  so  blind  -- the  rush  he  felt  whenever  he
touched  Damien,  the  fact  that  they  shared  so  many
details  of  their  lives,  they  practically  were  in  a
relationship;  Brett  just  had  to  let  Damien  know  it  was
official.

And he had the perfect outfit for the occasion.

***

The night of the party couldn't come fast enough.

When it did, Brett dug into his closet and pulled out his
old leather harness. Two black straps went around his
shoulders and a series of horizontal strips decorated his
chest. The pattern continued in the back and stopped just
at the top of his ass. He always loved the way it accented
his bubble butt. Normally he was bottomless, but that
wouldn't do for this party, so he shaved his legs and his
pubic hair before pulling on a leather thong.

For shoes, Brett just put on a pair of sandals with

leather laces that crisscrossed up his legs. He donned a
trench coat to cover himself, because he was the type of
person who needed to wear a sweatshirt if it was seventy
degrees outside.

Brett stashed a condom and lube in a small leather

bag and strapped it around his waist. He crossed his
fingers and hoped to Hell that his outfit would give
Damien enough incentive to jump him.

His phone beeped. A text message from Damien

stated, "Are you ready?"

"Leaving right now," Brett texted while he stepped

out the door with Kirby's car keys in his hand.

"Wish you'd let me pick you up," Damien texted back.
"Hush. I wanted our costumes to be a surprise,

remember?" Luck was with Brett tonight, because
Kirby's junky car started without a hitch.

The inside of Steve's house was noisy and packed

with a ton of people, as was usual for his parties. Brett
somehow  managed  to  squeeze  through  the  crowd,  and
he wished he wasn't so damn short. If he had some more
height,  it  would  be  easier  for  him  to  see  above
everyone's  head  and  pick  out  Damien  from  the  huge
throng of partygoers.

He froze when he spotted a familiar head of dark hair

bobbing a few feet away. The crowd thinned out a little,
and when Brett saw what Damien was wearing, his
breath caught in his throat.

Damien was dressed in a long, steel blue leather

jacket  with  padded  shoulders.  Spikes  covered  the
exaggerated  shoulder  area  and  small  lengths  of  chain
dangled  down  from  the  edges.  His  chest  was  covered
with  strips  of  spiked  leather  that  flared  out  in  a  partial
sunburst pattern from an O-ring resting in the center of
his well-defined pecs. A rippling six-pack framed a pair
of tight leather pants that rode low on Damien's hips. So
low,  in  fact,  that  if  he  stretched  up  too  far,  he'd  be
arrested for indecent exposure.

Brett ran a tongue over dry lips and decided to go for

it. With a flourish, he shed his coat and tossed it into a
corner.  The  friendly  recognition  in  Damien's  eyes
suddenly  turned  predatory.  He  raked  his  gaze  up  and
down  Brett's  body,  and  there  was  so  much  heat  in  his
expression that Brett could almost feel it scorching flesh
in  its  wake.  There  was  no  mistaking  Damien's  interest,
because  a  prominent  bulge  distorted  the  crotch  of  his
pants.

Damien didn't say anything. He just clamped a large

hand around Brett's wrist and dragged Brett behind him
while he cleared the way to the bathroom. Brett was

about  to  crack  a  joke  while  Damien  locked  the  door
behind them, but his words died when Damien slammed
him  against  the  wall.  Damien  smashed  their  mouths
together,  kissing  Brett  until  their  surroundings  faded
away and his entire world narrowed down to just the feel
of Damien's scorching hot lips and tongue taking charge
of his own. There was nothing tentative about Damien's
kiss,  he  laid  claim  to  Brett  with  a  possessiveness  that
made Brett's head spin. Brett's knees went weak and he
would  have  stumbled  except  for  the  fact  that  Damien
was holding him off the ground.

Somewhere in the back of his head, a tiny little voice

wondered  at  the  strangeness  of  the  helpless  position
Brett was in, and the fact that this seemed to be familiar
terrain for Damien. That thought lasted all of one tenth
of  a  second  before  it  was  squashed  by  another  one  of
those devastating kisses. Brett felt his resistance melting
away  faster  than  butter  on  top  of  a  hot  stove.  Letting
Damien  control  him  was  a  surprising  turn-on,  and  he
wanted more.

He arched up when Damien reached down and

squeezed his leather-covered crotch. The feel of the
butter-soft fabric rubbing against his shaved skin made
Brett groan out loud.

"Little slut," Damien said in a voice so filled with lust

that it went straight to Brett's groin. "You're just dying to
have my cock, aren't you?"

"Oh God, yes!" Brett moaned. Hands tightened on his

biceps and in an eye blink, he was thrown over the
bathroom counter and his thong was yanked down. The
bag around his wrist was ripped off and tossed into a
corner.

"What the... oh fuck!" A hot tongue swiping over his

hole drove any thoughts of protest out of his mind. He
let out a loud whimper while Damien ran a tongue

around his entrance, pausing a few times to suck on the
rim and teasing the sensitive flesh with the barest scrape
of teeth.

Brett cried out and reached back so that he could pull

his cheeks wider. He glanced up at the mirror, and saw
that his pupils were completely blown. His face reflected
the desperation he was feeling, the fact that all rational
thought had gone out the window and had been replaced
with a driving need for more, more, more.

"What do you want?" Damien purred. Brett felt a

sharp nip on his ass, which made a cascade of sparks
shoot through his body.

"Please! Oh God, fuck me with your tongue!"
"Good boy. No matter what, don't turn around.

Clear?"

Brett nodded, and then cried out when wet, scorching

heat pushed into him, swirling around until he was
shamelessly fucking himself on Damien's face.

His nails dug into his flesh, and he closed his eyes

while  he  lost  himself  in  sensation.  Nothing  mattered
more  than  that  searing  tongue  stabbing  in,  driving  him
crazy.  He  was  so  unaware  of  anything  else  that  he
almost shot up in the air when he felt a slippery finger
tracing his hole.

Looking up into the mirror again, he saw that Damien

had removed his jacket and was holding an open lube
packet. He gasped when Damien eased that finger in and
tried to take deep breaths to force himself to relax.

As much as he appreciated the care, he wanted

Damien inside him right the fuck now. "Please... give
me your prick. I'm dying for it." He put his arms on the
counter and tried to push back to emphasize his point.

"Quiet. I'll go as fast as I want," Damien growled in

his ear. A free hand administered a firm slap to Brett's
ass and then circled both of his slender wrists together

before trapping them on the counter. A new wave of
pleasure flooded through Brett as he struggled, and even
though he had the skill to free himself, he didn't want to.
He groaned when he realized that he was trapped and all
he could do was surrender.

"Yeah, that's it. You just have to lie there and take it."

Damien  slid  in  another  finger,  rubbing  Brett's  prostate
and causing him to thrash in Damien's grip. Brett could
see  from  Damien's  reflection  that  every  muscle  in  his
body was tensed and even though it looked like his prick
was  being  strangled  by  his  pants,  Damien  was  making
no attempt to relieve the pressure. A fresh wave of lust
hit Brett with the knowledge that Damien was trying to
be careful with him.

Suddenly, the pressure was lifted on his wrists. "Keep

your arms there," Damien said. "If you move them, I'll
stop."

Brett knew better than to fire off a smart-mouthed

reply, and he sucked in a breath when Damien slid
lower. Damien's fingers were still inside of him and they
continued to scissor, stretching him with care. Brett was
going to complain again when holy fucking shit, he felt
Damien's tongue pushing inside.

Brett let out an incoherent scream and he tried to say

something, but he couldn't. Choked half-sounds spilled
from his lips while Damien's tongue drove him to sweet
madness. He soon felt his balls drawing up, and he cried
out, "Oh God, I'm going to come."

A small jolt hit him when Damien pulled everything

out.  He  tried  to  focus  and  he  saw  Damien's  reflection
bending  down  out  of  view.  Brett  heard  the  creak  of
leather  and  the  rustle  of  clothing  before  Damien
reappeared with a condom. His eyes were burning with
desire as he moved his hand to the zipper of his pants.

Brett started breathing in short little pants while

Damien opened the fly at a languorous pace. He groaned
when he saw curly hair peeking out between the metal
teeth instead of fabric. It seemed to take forever before
Damien reached the bottom, but when he did, Brett tried
not to drool while Damien pulled out his dick.

When the thick column of flesh was revealed, Brett's

perving  turned  into  a  high-pitched  squeak.  To  say  that
Damien's  cock  was  impressive  was  like  saying  that  a
horse  was  a  little  hung.  The  thing  was  big  enough  to
need  its  own  zip  code  and  Brett  must  have  tensed  up
because  Damien  started  looking  uncertain.  Brett  took  a
deep  breath  and  mentally  slapped  himself  -- he  was
pretty stretched and Damien was the last person to hurt
him.

In answer to Damien's silent question, Brett nodded

and  spread  his  legs  a  little  more.  Damien's  face  lit  up
with an enthusiastic grin and then his expression turned
back  to  predatory.  He  lifted  the  condom  packet  to  his
full lips and tore it open with his teeth. Damien's hands
were  steady  while  he  rolled  on  the  latex  sheath  and
coated it with a generous amount of lube. He positioned
himself  at  Brett's  hole  and  paused,  as  if  he  was  giving
Brett one last chance to back out. Brett wiggled his butt
in response, so Damien took the hint and began to press
in.

Holy fucking shit, maybe he wasn't as stretched as he

thought. Brett felt his ass spasming and he yelped at the
intrusion. Damien froze in a split second, and he rubbed
a gentle hand over Brett's back.

God damn it, he was being an idiot. He could do

this... he wanted it so badly he could taste it.

After a few minutes he nodded, and Damien eased in

a little more, stopping when Brett started clenching up
again. Progress was made at a snail's pace, with Damien
proceeding just a little bit at a time. The strain showed

on his face, but he never tried to go too fast, he just kept
pushing  forward  in  small  increments,  taking  however
long  they  needed.  The  two  of  them  let  out  a  sigh  of
relief when Damien gave one more push and was finally
seated  all  the  way  inside.  Brett  felt  like  his  ass  was
stretched to its limit and wedged open around Damien's
enormous prick.

Damien dropped kisses over Brett's shoulders and

neck, following them up with little nips. The way too
full feeling had faded down to a pleasant ache, and Brett
nodded again.

Damien pulled back a small amount and thrust back

in.  Brett  let  out  a  little  moan  because  just  that  tiny
motion  caused  a  shiver  of  pleasure.  Damien  continued,
increasing the length of his strokes, but still keeping the
pace  gentle.  Brett  found  himself  opening  up  to  the
tender ministrations and soon a craving began to build, a
desire for as much pleasure as he could get. He shifted a
little  and  the  craving  exploded  into  an  all-consuming
hunger when Damien hit his prostate.

"More!" He arched up, his entire body taut as a bow.

"Oh my God, fuck me hard!"

Damien voiced out a low growl and then he seized

Brett's wrists in his hands. He drew back and then Brett
cried  out  at  the  top  of  his  lungs  because  Damien  had
slammed  forward  with  a  heart  stopping  thrust.  He  had
barely  finished  screaming  when  Damien  started
pounding  in  earnest,  holding  Brett  down  in  an
unyielding  grip.  Brett  was  unable  to  do  anything  while
Damien plunged in without mercy, driving into him over
and over again. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything
except let the pleasure flood through him until his throat
was raw from wailing non-stop.

The sounds of skin slapping together echoed loudly

in the small room as Damien pounded into him at a

rapid pace, turning the wildfire burning in Brett's blood
into an out of control conflagration.

"You can move your arms. Make yourself come for

me," Damien hissed while he loosened his grip.

Brett didn't have to be told that twice; he reached

down as fast as he could manage and began tugging on
his swollen, leaking cock. It only took a few pulls before
he lost it, orgasming so hard that the top of his head felt
like it was blowing off.

Damien jabbed Brett once, twice, and then threw his

head back. His lips parted and Brett's dick stirred at the
sight  of  Damien  lost  in  pure  ecstasy.  Damien  couldn't
have  looked  more  beautiful,  and  Brett  took  in  every
nuance  and  committed  it  to  memory.  He  could  have
gazed  at  Damien  forever,  and  he  felt  a  little  twinge  of
disappointment when that gorgeous face went slack.

"Oof," Brett said because Damien had collapsed on

top of him.

Their breaths mingled and Brett just lay there, not

caring that the corner of the counter was jabbing him in
the hip, or that Damien was heavy on his back. He felt
warm and fuzzy inside, and he just wanted to enjoy it for
however long it lasted.

Far too soon, Damien stirred and planted a kiss to his

shoulder. "How do you feel?"

Brett craned his neck around so he could see

Damien's face. "Well fucked. How did you know I was
into kink?"

He almost chuckled when Damien's cheeks flared

bright  red.  "Um,  you  confessed  it  to  me  the  night  you
had  broken  up  with  Hank.  You  complained  a  lot  about
how  he  topped  from  below  and  you  wondered  if  the
grass was greener on the other side."

Figured. But that still didn't explain one thing. "Wait

a minute, you're not into domination! You're a huge

romantic."

"That doesn't mean I'm not into D/S. You just

assumed." Damien nipped Brett's shoulder hard and he
yelped. "You're silly sometimes."

Brett slapped at him. "You dumbass, why did you

wait so long to make a move?"

"Because you weren't ready. And I didn't want to ruin

things between us." He pulled out and turned Brett
around. "I loved you from the minute I laid eyes on
you."

The warm, fuzzy feeling returned ten times stronger.

"I love you, too."

Damien kissed him with tenderness and Brett realized

why he'd never felt the urge to bottom to anyone else
before. He'd never felt safe enough to trust them, but
with Damien, he knew he could trust anything, even his
heart.

He looked forward to breaking new ground and

seeing what they could build together. One thing was
certain -- it was totally going to be awesome.

END

The Grass is Greener…

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Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / September
2012

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