Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Valenti wound his arms around the smaller man in front of him and pulled O’Brian close. Shutting his eyes, he gave in to sleep.
Chapter Eight
He woke up to feel his morning hard-on nestled securely between the firm cheeks of his partner’s ass. Hmmm, nice ... He kissed the vulnerable nape of O’Brian’s neck just under the bright thatch of reddish-blond hair and rocked gently against him, loving the feeling of the lush ass pressing against his shaft. O’Brian, reacting to the stimulation, pressed back against him, rubbing along his length with a low moan.
Still half asleep, Valenti did what came naturally. He pressed against O’Brian’s body and reached around his partner’s hips to capture O’Brian’s hard cock in one hand.
“Mmmm ...” O’Brian was practically purring as he thrust into the warm circle of his partner’s hand, responding to the firm grip Valenti had on his shaft. The soft noise penetrated the sleep-induced fog in Valenti’s brain, and things began to register. In a blinding moment of clarity, he realized this was not a dream; he actually was pumping his cock against his partner’s ass and stroking O’Brian off at the same time. The tight ass against his shaft and the hard cock in his hand both felt incredibly right, but Valenti suddenly realized that the whole situation was utterly wrong.
“Oh, God!” He let O’Brian go and pushed violently away from his partner, actually falling off the bed in his attempt to distance himself.
“Wha...?” O’Brian’s sleepy green eyes appeared over the edge of the bed, and he peered groggily at Valenti lying on his back on the floor. “What you doin’ down there, Valenti?” he asked, blinking owlishly. “Was havin’ this incredible dream, and then all of a sudden I woke up and you weren’t there.”
“I don’t know ... I just ... I fell off.” Valenti couldn’t bring himself to tell his partner that the dream had been no dream. “Time for breakfast anyway,” he said, glancing up at the bedside clock. “Actually, it’s nearly time for lunch. Must’ve forgotten to set the alarm. We overslept.”
“Oh, shit!” O’Brian was instantly awake and leaping out of bed to grab a quick shower. “What’s wrong with us, Valenti? We never oversleep when we’re on an assignment,” he grumbled through the bathroom door.
Yes, but we never kiss each other and come all over each other, either. Or suck each other ... As he dressed hurriedly, grateful he had taken a shower the night before, Valenti shivered at the vividly sensual memory of O’Brian’s mouth surrounding the head of his cock. What are we coming to? Pun not intended -- very funny, Nicholas. Undercover or not, this kind of thing will change our relationship forever -- there’s just no way it can’t. When he finished dressing, he sat on the bed and waited for his partner to emerge from the shower.
In five minutes O’Brian came out, his thick reddish-gold hair still dripping, with only a towel wrapped around his lean hips. He rummaged through the drawers, humming to himself as he looked for a fresh twinkie outfit to put on. As O’Brian pulled on the tight shorts and tank top, Valenti tried in vain not to watch his partner’s ass and think what he wanted to say. They had to talk about this -- about what was happening between them. He loved O’Brian, loved touching him, but more than anything he didn’t want to damage their partnership.
Finally, O’Brian turned around, toweling his hair vigorously and revealing a bright red shirt that looked great with his golden skin tones. In black block letters, the shirt proclaimed, “You say Tomato, I say Fuck Off.” It took a moment to register, and when it did Valenti tried to keep a straight face, tried to keep his mind on what he needed to talk about with his partner, but the damn shirt was just too much. Before he knew it, the brittle tension inside him had broken into a million pieces, and he was holding his sides and howling with laughter.
“What? Is it my hair?” O’Brian played dumb, clearly amused by his partner’s reaction to the slogan on his tank. Finally Valenti’s laughter tapered off to snickers and the occasional chuckle, and he shook his head and pointed at the shirt.
“Where?” he asked simply.
“From the Louvre on my last trip to gay Paree,” O’Brian answered, grinning. “’S the only place they sell ’em. Limited edition, ya know.”
“God, Sean -- you’re too much.” Valenti wiped tears out of his eyes, feeling better, although nothing had been said. Maybe, he reflected, it was better to just let things lie -- at least for now.
“Didn’t you say it was time for lunch?” his partner demanded, looking at the clock. “I’m hungry, Valenti. Let’s get goin’.”
“After you.” Valenti gestured toward the solid oak door, still grinning a little, and his partner sashayed past him, clearly already in character and ready to tackle another day. But just as Valenti was about to open the door and usher him into the hall, O’Brian turned with a serious expression on his fine-featured face. The sea-green eyes reminded Valenti of the ocean after a storm.