An Excerpt from Willa Okati's The Brotherhood 11: Nothing Like Experience

Allen took a deep breath and turned to face Chance for the first time since he’d started driving. Chance’s pretty eyes were fixed on Allen’s, hypnotically blue and deep enough to drown in. Framed as they were by his marvelous hair, he looked like a fallen angel who’d enjoyed the trip down.

“You like this,” Chance repeated, moving his hand a little further up. “I can smell you.”

Huh? Allen shrugged off the second part of the other man’s statement and tried to backpedal. “Look, Chance, I know you’re probably grateful to me for taking care of your dog and giving you a ride and everything but, honest, you don’t have to--”

“Shh,” Chance whispered. He lifted his hand only long enough to undo his seatbelt. The click set off alarm bells and buzzers in Allen’s mind, but he could only watch, captivated, as Chance moved in his seat so that he had most of his weight on one hip. The younger man glanced up and licked his lips, wetting them. “This isn’t about thanking you. Can’t you feel it? Since I first saw you in the clinic, I’ve...” He shook his head. “May I? Please?”

Allen’s self-control wavered over that final step. “Chance, you really don’t have to. I promise.”

“But I want to.” Chance looked at him beseechingly. “I like you, Allen. Dr. Michaels.”

“If you call me that one more time, I’m probably going to--”

“Drag me out of the car?” Chance wet his lower lip a second time, the pink tip of his tongue sliding temptingly across the slightly darker skin. “Throw me up against the side and turn me around?”

“Chance,” Allen managed around a thick throat. “Don’t offer unless you mean it.”

“I do,” Chance said firmly. His hand wandered to Allen’s crotch -- no hiding the insistent erection now. Chance cupped Allen’s cock, which let Allen know Chance was there, male, and definitely interested. “Let me. Please?”

“Chance...”

“Yes,” Chance murmured, and Allen knew he was lost.

As if he were someone else, Allen watched Chance’s long fingers, the fingers of an artist, nimbly unbutton his slacks and draw the zipper down. He danced over the bulge in Allen’s jockey shorts, his touch light as a breath of air but doing unbelievable things to Allen’s thundering libido. “Say no if you don’t want this,” Chance offered softly. “If you really don’t want this.”

Allen knew what he should say. Really, he did. But God help him if he could speak up with any kind of denial. His body answered for him, his hand going to touch that hair, all that glorious hair, at long last. It felt as soft and silky as it looked, with the exception of one slightly rough spot -- the lock Chance must have the habit of twining and twirling. Allen’s hips hitched up slightly, bucking his cock into Chance’s hand. A small moan escaped him.

Something like excitement mixed with mischief sparkled in those big blues. “Thank you,” Chance whispered before grasping the waistband of Allen’s jockeys and pulling them down. Allen’s traitorous body moved up to give Chance more room to play.

A glance in the rearview mirror told Allen that Spot was asleep, thank God. He didn’t think he could have handled an audience, even one who’d never be able to go up on a witness stand. “Bad idea,” Allen managed. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop.” Chance was sliding his hand inside, reaching for Allen’s stiff cock.

“I won’t stop,” Chance said in that sweet, small voice. Allen found the back of Chance’s neck and began pushing the man’s head down toward his lap, which turned out to be where Chance had been going in the first place. Chance gave a little sigh of pleasure as he pulled Allen’s shorts down far enough to let Allen’s erection spring out, thick and red and somehow out of place but at the same time exactly where it needed to be.

Chance stroked the length with one finger. “So pretty,” he observed in what sounded like awe. “It’s been too long. Months and months and months.”

Allen offered up a strangled sound.

Chance laughed lightly. “This’ll feel good.”

Damn right it will. Get on with the sucking. Allen gave Chance’s head another push, knowing that anything he said out loud would be a mix of babbling and things he’d really regret later.

Chance breathed over the head of Allen’s cock, the cool air directing itself in a stream up and down Allen’s length. Allen felt his shaft throb, so eager that he was jerking, his prick bobbing up and down. Chance’s mouth descended, ready to take that first taste.

© Willa Okati, February 2007
All Rights Reserved