To Serve and Protect

By: BJ Williams
(© 2013 by the author)
Edited by: Gerry Young

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 2

As Andy walked back to the cruiser, he saw Michael crossing Columbus Avenue, heading toward the park. Andy stood waiting; Michael waved to him and when he came up to Andy, he again fondled him.

“Hey, stud puppy, how’s it hanging, and don’t go telling…”

“You can’t go into the park, Michael,” Andy said, interrupting him, and took him by the shoulders.

“Why … is Jonas getting lucky with someone?” he asked as he placed his hands on Andy’s hips, but then his demeanor changed when he saw how serious Andy was. “Oh my God; there’s been another killing.” Andy nodded and Michael gasped; he shook his head as he realized who it might be. “Please … please tell me that it’s not Danny,” he pleaded. He moved his hands up and grabbed Andy by the shirt.

“It is, Michael; his body is just down the bike path in the bushes,” Andy said and caught the boy as he collapsed in shock.

Andy eased him down to the pavement, careful to keep his head from hitting the ground. He was trying to revive him, when the first car arrived. Its headlights illuminated Andy and Michael, which caused Thom to hurry from his car and over to him.

“Andy, what’s wrong,” Thom asked as he knelt beside him.

“We found another boy’s body; Jonas is there with him,” he said and then explained about Michael.

As Andy watched Thom and his partner disappeared into the dimness of the park, Michael had come around. Andy helped him sit up and comforted him as he began to cry.

“Shhhhhh, I’ve got you, Michael,” Andy said with a soothing tone as his eyes looked past the kid at Michael.

“Why, Andy? Why did it have to be him?” Michael asked and lifted his face so that his tear-filled eyes could meet those of Andy's. “I was so against him going under cover and told him so, so many times.”

“Only God can answer that question, Michael. But from what I understand, Danny wanted to help catch the guy as much as the police wanted to, also.”

“He had such an awful life; his mother was a drunk and his old man continually beat him until he ran away from home. He was the first guy I met when my own mom tossed me out because I turned my stepdad in for continually raping me. Life just isn’t fair,” he added bitterly.

“Life is never fair, but we have to make the best of what life dishes out to us, Michael. Now take you … you can go back to school and graduate, go to college, and make something good of yourself. Your handsome looks won’t last forever, then what will you do once the men that you service now, no longer want you?”

“Then I’ll end my life, because me and school never got along,” he answered.

“Now Michael, that’s no way to think; your life can be whatever you want it to be. And I know how you're feeling…” Andy began but Michael was quick to interrupt him.

“You don’t know shit about how I’m feeling,” Michael angrily replied.

“I do, Michael, because my dad was the very first victim of this killer,” Andy shared with him.

“You were Travis’ son, I’m sorry man. I had no idea. Your dad and his partner were always kind and they cared about us, even if we are the city’s trash.”

“Well, Michael, like my dad, I care about you also, and that’s why I chose to become a cop.”

“No one ever cared about me, much less believed in me before. I’m not foolish enough to believe that people, let alone cops, can really care about me.” Michael’s demeanor abruptly changed and with the aid of Andy, he stood up. “I need to go, I have rent coming up and I’m forty dollars short this month.”

“Wait, here, take this money and just go home,” he said, pulling two twenties from his wallet and handing them to Michael.

“What’s this for? I don’t take charity,” he said looking at the crisp bills in Andy’s hand.

“Just take it; do it for Danny or just think of it as a gift from dad,” he said and Michael reluctantly took the bills, stashing them in his front jeans pocket.

“I owe you one, Andy, well actually I owe you several, because of the way you treated me,” Michael said. “Most cops, even Jonas, treat me like trash, but not you. I know I’m trash, but I don’t need my face rubbed in it.”

“You don’t owe me a thing, and you are not trash; you’re part of the city’s lost boys. Now scoot, go straight home, ok?” he asked and Michael lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around him and kissed him for the second time that evening.

The kiss was long, hard and sensuous and it left Andy with a warm feeling inside once they broke apart.

“You’re different from the other cops; you care,” Michael said when he broke the kiss.

“Like I said — I do care, Michael, and please, just go home, ok?” he asked again, and Michael nodded and then walked off.

*        *        *

“You’re still upset about that kid’s death, aren’t you?” Jonas asked a few hours later as they finished up for the night.

“Yes, aren’t you? This is the seventh murder.”

“I am concerned, but you can’t take every death, personally,” he cautioned Andy. “If you do, it’ll eat you up alive.”

“But that’s the thing, Jonas, because to me, it is personal. I can’t forget the fact that this killer killed my father? After all, he might not have been killed and dumped in the park, but he was strangled with a tie and left naked and dead as were the other victims.”

“I forgot about that, Andy, that your dad was a victim also. I am sorry.”

On their last pass down Taylor Street, Jonas noticed a chubby boy walking along.

“Someone you know,” Andy asked, he noticed that Jonas had slowed the cruiser, pulled to the curb and approached the boy.

“Jamie something or other, a little fat for this trade, but really sweet,” Jonas said. “So sweet, that he even does me without charging,” he added, and Andy wondered if there were not more to the freeness.

As they pulled over beside the boy, he looked over at the cruiser, smiled and gingerly waved at them, until he saw Jonas. Jonas rolled his window down and spoke in a hushed tone to the boy. The boy nodded reluctantly and walked away.

“What was that all about?” a curious Andy asked.

“THAT, rookie, is definitely none of your business,” he said as he drove them away.

Jonas drove back to the precinct and pulled into the area that was reserved for cruisers. He swung the car into the spot marked with the cruiser’s number painted on the pavement.

They entered the precinct and both men nodded to George Baker, the desk sergeant. “Hey guys, rough time out there, huh, especially for you, rookie,” he said more than asked as they stopped before the raised desk.

“Yeah, another one to add to the Riverfront Strangler’s victims list,” Jonas said and walked away, leaving Andy alone.

“You know, kid, I can’t help thinking how this might have upset you — what with your dad’s murder being the first,” he added as he slowly shook his head.

“It did bring up some painful memories, but more so, it pisses me off that we can’t catch him,” he said and George gave a wave to Andy when the telephone rang.

“Springfield Police,” he said and listened. “Yes he is, he’s standing right here as a matter of fact. Andy, it’s for you. I’ll transfer it to that phone on the desk,” George said and pointed to an empty desk.

Andy walked towards it and paused, waiting for the phone to ring.

“Hello, Officer Butler,” he said when he had answered it.

“Oh … I wanted Andy,” Michael said.

“That’s me, my last full name is Andy Butler,” he told him. “What’s wrong Michael?” he was surprised that he had recognized his voice.

“I was wondering if you might come by my place … I need to talk to someone?” he asked and Andy knew that he was being bothered by Danny’s death.

“Sure, give me your address,” he asked and Michael told him. “I’ll be there in about twenty, ok?” he asked.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate it,” he said and hung up.

 Andy quickly showered, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, and all in under fifteen minutes.

*        *        *

Andy found the apartment building that Michael lived in and wasn’t surprised by how dilapidated it was, considering the others around it. Most of the windows were either broken or boarded up, and trash was stacked several bags high beside the front door. When he entered the foyer, the stench of urine assaulted his nose. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and held it over his nose and mouth as he stood reading the names on the built-in boxes. He didn’t see Michael’s name, but he did find a Daniel Murphy, and assumed that it was Michael’s Danny.

Andy climbed three flights of stairs and finally found the apartment that he was looking for at the end of the short hall. A single light bulb illuminated the hall, which gave it an eerie glow as if some demon might step out of the shadows. He took in a deep breath and then knocked gently on the door.

“Hey stud muffin,” Michael commented, “come on in.” It was apparent to Andy that Michael had been drinking as he entered the apartment.

Michael was wearing nothing more than a pair of black boxer briefs, which did not hide what lay behind fabric, and he staggered as he walked.

“Want a beer,” Michael called out from the kitchen.

“I … sure,” he answered, and Michael came back carrying two. “I take it that this is not your first,” he asked as he accepted the bottle from Michael.

“No and don’t go giving me a lecture about how you can’t drown your sorrow in alcohol, or that I’m not old enough to legally drink. I don’t need it and besides, it’ll be a total waste of your breath,” he added antagonistically and then began crying.

“What’s wrong big guy,” Andy asked as he sat down beside him, placing his arm over Michael’s shoulder.

“I called Danny’s mother to tell her about Danny,” he stated and took a large draw on his bottle. “Do you know what she said when I told her that Danny was dead?” he asked and Andy shook his head. “She said good riddance to bad trash and hung up.”

Andy didn't know what to say, but it didn’t matter, because Michael took another draw and continued.

“If that wasn’t bad enough, she called back and asked if he left any money behind or had a life insurance policy. Come on, Andy, his own mother didn’t care that he was dead; she was only concerned about money.”

He lunged at Andy, who, caught off guard, wrapped his arms around him and let him cry. Normally, Andy didn’t consider it manly for a man to openly cry, especially with a stranger, but he knew how hard Michael was taking the death.

“Shhhhhh, I got you now, so let it out,” Andy whispered with his nose nestled in Michael’s hair.

It smelled of shampoo, an herbal kind, and it reminded him of another boy’s shampoo. His best friend Billy had used the same kind of shampoo. He was deep in thought about Billy, with his eyes closed and never noticed that Michael had stopped crying. When he opened them, he found Michael looking at him.

Up close, Andy saw that Michael was a god, with his soft, curly brown hair that ringed his face and features that seemed chiseled from granite. He had a long, straight nose, aristocratic and high cheek bones and a strong jaw line that had a hint of a five o’clock shadow.

Michael noticed him looking and when their eyes met, he pushed Andy unto his back and kissed him. Unlike the one he had given him earlier that evening; this one was hot and sensual. Andy did not fight it at first, but surrendered his mouth to Michael’s tongue, which delved deeply in.

“This isn’t right, Michael,” Andy said and his hands pressed against the stone hardness of Michael’s chest. “You are riding on emotions caused by Danny’s death,” he told him.

“Maybe so, but then, we can say that I am earning that money you gave me,” he said and lowered his mouth again, but Andy turned his head.

“I find you very handsome, and God knows how long it’s been since I … well, it’s been quite awhile. But the thing is, Michael, when I gave you that money, it wasn’t because I was looking for something in return.”

Michael sat up and reached for his beer and drained it before setting the bottle down.

“I know that I am upset; no, I'm more than that! I’m pissed off by Danny’s murder and his mother’s reaction to it. But my feelings over all that have nothing to do with me wanting you, Andy.”

Michael looked at him and he wondered why? Why didn't he have someone waiting for him at home somewhere.

“Is it a boyfriend, is that why you won’t…?” he asked, and Andy shook his head.

“Hell, no,” he answered. “I’ve not ever had a boyfriend, ever,” he added adamantly.

“Not ever? How come?” he asked, looking at Andy as if he were able to read his mind.

“I gave my heart away, way back in high school to my best friend,” he said.

“So what happened to him, to your romance?”

“Nothing, because I never told him that I was in love with him,” Andy confessed. “You see, Michael, he and I were best friends and I was afraid to tell him. More so, I was afraid that if I did tell him, he’d run fast and far away from me. I guess I valued our friendship more than I needed a sex partner.”

“So,” he began and had this devilish grin on his face. “Are you still a virgin?” he asked and Andy laughed.

“Hardly, I have been with guys now and then,” he shared. “But I never met one that did to my heart what Billy does to it. Now, that’s enough about me; let’s talk about you and why you don’t want to turn your life around.”

“For what reason? It’s not like someone will hire me. Oh, I did the job thing already. I have worked at car washes and as a dish washer at various restaurants, but that was not my thing, so I turned to hustling.”

“So what is your  thing?”

Michael laughed so hard and Andy liked how handsome he looked, even laughing.

“You’ll laugh, most people do,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t, I promise that I will not laugh; so please tell me,” he suggested, moving closer to Michael and taking Michael’s hand in his.

“A cop, I’ve always wanted to be a cop,” he said and then as quickly, said. “Now you promised not to laugh,” he added.

“I’m not going to laugh? How could I, when I’m a cop myself?”

“But you’re different, Andy; you're loved by people and aren’t looked at as trash,” Michael told him and stood up and moved to a window. “I’m not stupid, I know my place in society,” he added without looking at Andy, but instead, glared hopelessly out the window.

Andy stood and walked over to him and from behind, he wrapped his arms around him, resting his cheek against the strength of Michael’s back. He could hear his heart pounding and his warmth, it chilled Andy. Andy knew, he wanted him as much as Michael had wanted him. But that was not enough, just wanting a guy, he wanted it all, a man to come home to that loved him as much as he loved that special someone.

Michael turned and faced Andy, but Andy turned, placing his back to him. Michael’s arm encircled Andy, he pulled Andy against him. Andy felt as if trapped in a vice; Michael’s arms were strong and unyielding. Of all things that Andy could have possibly remembered that moment, he remembered his horoscope that he had read that morning.

A love as strong as time will invade your life today, but it comes with a price. It had begun. It won’t be easy to love, because the gods of fate, confusion, doubt and worry will try to hamper this love. But if you will reach out and embrace this love, something infinitely pure and sweet will tumble into your life.  

Michael felt Andy’s movement as he twisted slowly from his grasp, but Michael made no move to stop him. He opened his eyes, barely, allowing his dark lashes to shield them as he watched Andy.

Dawn was breaking, sunlight, gold and crimson, streaked against the gray of the dying night. The water of the Connecticut River reflected its glow like thousands of diamonds glittering to greet the day.

As Michael watched, Andy kicked off his shoes and then pulled his shirt up and over his head. He let his jeans fall to the floor around his feet. Andy gasped slightly at the shock of the cold air from the window’s air conditioner as it caressed the back of his neck and caused him to shiver. He turned and the sunlight, as if caught in a spell of magic, touched upon Andy’s hair, made the strands appear like pure gold mixed with a hint of copper.

Andy stood, shivering slightly from the blowing cold air, and his nipples grew tall and hard beneath the fabric of his shirt. Andy looked as if he had been set afire to Michael, as if a cloak of sunlight had ignited him, bathing him in a rich and radiant glow.

Michael opened his eyes fully and leaned against the wall and drew in a deep breath. Andy turned suddenly around and stared at him, Andy’s eyes went wide — emerald green pools the color of spring grass. His eyes slowly descended down Andy’s body, over his chest, down to his abdomen and finally to his jeans, which had become taut, enhancing the full rise of his manhood.

Michael suddenly smiled a roguish grin, he thought how easy it would be to just take Andy and make him his, but with the sun’s light bathing him, Andy looked like some Greek god come to life, alluring, enchanted and handsome beyond all words. He mused to himself how Andy would not much like the description.

His smile began to fad, although his eyes remained riveted to Andy’s. The air blowing on him was cold, but Michael felt uncomfortably hot. His limbs were tense, his muscles coiled and tightened … and damn, if he didn’t feel his breath coming hard and fast from lungs that seemed to burn! His desire for Andy was painful, tearing at his gut like a gnawing hunger, tightening him, hardening him, when he hadn’t touched Andy except with his eyes.

Michael was a man who took what he wanted, and when he wanted it. But not now, no, be patient with this one, a friend has once told him, when he would find his soul mate. Be gentle and let him come to you, Michael, he further said.

But that friend did not live with a constant longing to find that one man that would not only set his world on fire, but would consume his every thought. He had already found his love.

He lifted his hand up and out to Andy, “Come here,” he said softly.

Andy hesitated, and in those moments, Michael prayed mentally that Andy would not refuse him. His pride would demand that he go to Andy and take him, but he stood patiently waiting, unwilling to let it come to that. Andy was proud, too, Michael sensed this and remembered Andy’s reaction when he had first met him and kissed him, as if Andy were his. Although, Andy had rebuked him, Michael could sense that he secretly loved the kiss.

Michael walked to Andy slowly, ignoring that voice in his head that told him to wait. Not once did he stop gazing at Andy’s eyes; it was imperative that he should tell him so; he did not want Andy to run.

Andy did not run.

Andy watched Michael come, shivering against the cold air as Michael stopped before him. Andy’s arms were bare; the fine hair glistened with the sun’s light. Michael’s eyes held Andy’s as he lifted his shirt up and over his head. His eyes at last left Andy’s as he watched the gentle movement of his fingers as they caressed the flesh of Andy’s shoulders.

‘Was it the cold that Andy shivered from, or did he shrink from his touch?'  Michael asked himself.

Michael’s eyes met his again. “It's fate you know, that we're together,” he said quietly to Andy.

Andy did not answer him, but neither did his eyes waver from Michael’s.

“I embarrassed you earlier, in front of Jonas,” Michael continued, not pleading, but speaking truthfully. “For that, I am sorry. A kiss should not be a shameful thing, but such that is given and taken willingly.” He offered Andy a crooked smile. “It should be sensuous as well as a promise from heaven of more to come for both.”

Such a questioning glitter touched Andy’s eyes that Michael laughed. “I swear by my soul, it is true, Andy!”

Andy sighed, lowering his lashes over his eyes, took a breath and then allowed them to open fully. “I learned a long time ago to neither tempt nor fight … fate.”

Michael’s lips continued to curl with a secret amusement. No, Andy would not fight him, nor what was happening between them. But neither was he going to offer a simple compliance or submission. Coming from Andy, the words were as close to a willing consent to proceed further, as he was ever going to get.

Michael moved his fingers across Andy’s shoulders and with a touch as soft as a whisper, trailed them down Andy’s arms. A flush rose throughout Andy when his nipples, their peaks brown and hard from the cold air, from Michael’s touch, grew even harder. His fingers went to Andy’s jeans; he undid the button and zipper, letting them fall to his ankles with the slightest push.

Andy was like the dawn, to Michael, shrouded in innocence, yet not innocent.

“I’m going to freeze,” Andy told Michael nervously, and Michael knew that it embarrassed Andy to stand naked before him. He took Andy into his arms, freeing him from the look of passionate hunger in his eyes.

“I will make you warm,” Michael assured Andy, and his mouth was hot with that promise as he took Andy’s in a deep, thirsting kiss.

Instantly, Andy thought of Michael’s kiss earlier, his lips seemed to meld with his, widen, taking the whole of Andy’s mouth, moist and demanding, and yet … they promised more.

Andy felt a strange sensation, a weakness and also, sweetness had invaded his bones, his blood. His nipples were hard against Michael’s chest. The course hair there teased him. His chest was so hard … Andy pressed his palms against it, not to push Michael away, but to feel him with his fingertips.

Michael stepped away. Andy was afraid that he would falter and fall. He did not, and Michael reached out a strong, suntanned hand and squeezed Andy’s chest, his thumbs teased each nipple. Andy lowered his lashes, unable to meet Michael’s eyes as he remembered his prophecy_

If you will reach out and embrace this love, something infinitely pure and sweet will tumble into your life.

It was then that Andy, with his eyes closed, remembered Billy. He couldn’t even summon a likeness of Billy’s face to his mind’s eye. The name was confusion; memory of him was nothing more than a clouded haze.

Someone moaned softly; it was Andy. He had stepped toward Michael, burying his face against Michael’s shoulder, slipping his arms around his neck. He stumbled in the tangle about his ankles that was his jeans, and Andy didn’t mind when Michael lifted him and carried him to his bed. Andy closed his eyes and rested pliantly against him. No one had ever carried him before, and it caused sudden warmth to run through him.

Andy didn’t know how to reach out and seize that elusive promise, but he felt drugged by the beauty of the moment and the tenderness of Michael’s touch. A dazzling spell of magic seemed to encompass him, as if he allowed the magic to swirl; the sweetness that rendered Andy’s limbs so very weak could grow and…

His clothes had been discarded and Andy found himself lying on the bed. He opened his eyes and looked into Michael’s, and somehow between his living room and bedroom, he had discarded his briefs.

Michael’s fingertips, light and feathery, touched Andy’s cheek, caressed and outlined his jaw. That soft touch followed along his throat, and long before Michael did so, Andy was craving that he touch his nipples. Still, it was that feathery touch, circling, as elusive as a breeze. Andy tried hard to remain still.

Lazily … leisurely … that gossamer touch moved along Andy, and he felt Michael with each rib … drawing idle patterns along his waist … making Andy burn deep within as the strokes crossed low over his abdomen.

Andy heard Michael’s whisper, close to his ear, “Are you alright?”

“No.” He was far from alright; he needed more.

Michael smiled, watching Andy’s mouth form the word. Until that moment, he had been almost afraid to touch him. Stretched out on the bed, one long, muscular leg angled slightly at the knee, Andy’s nakedness entirely free of blemish, Andy had appeared so pure and innocent that he had felt it almost irreverent to touch him.

It was now that he felt the fool. 'What am I doing?'  he thought looking down at Andy’s innocence, feeling as if he continued more, he would defile Andy. Perhaps, because he had kissed him earlier, the man before him had eluded him, and therefore he felt, in a way, he had robbed himself of any chance with Andy. It had been but a kiss done without thought, but he had meant to take more. He had to have more, the obsession that the kiss had stirred in him with that kiss, remained with him. It had grown like the winds of a summer storm after the kiss, and he would know no peace until he had grasped Andy’s elusive quality and held it in his hands.

“Michael,” Andy whispered, not in protest, but in need.

Now, the scarcely heard whisper of a single word, his name, had changed Andy. The handsomeness was still there; the innocent perfection. But Andy’s mouth remained slightly parted; he moistened it with the tip of his tongue, and the hard, rising nipples heaved slightly with the quickened intake of his breath.

Michael bent over Andy, nuzzling against cleft between his rock hard pecks, teasing the flesh with his tongue. He traced a wet path to a nipple that crested with a hardened challenge. He felt Andy shudder, and he knew that he shuddered himself as he savored the sweet succulence of Andy’s flesh, swathing him with his tongue, then nipping gently with his teeth before drawing the nipple hard into his mouth.

Soft sounds were coming from Andy’s mouth … whispers … moans … whimpers, or maybe it was just the air coming for the air conditioner, rustling and seeming to whirl like a tempest about Michael, within him. His hands splayed over Andy’s hips, holding Andy to him. Michael rolled onto his back, bringing Andy with him, groaning softly as he felt Andy’s flesh against him, and every inch of the man nakedness was a burning caress to Michael’s flesh.

Andy’s eyes were open now; he gazed at Michael, startled by the movement. Michael slipped a hand around Andy’s neck and drew his face to his, kissing his forehead, the tip of his nose, and then his lips. Again his kiss was long and passionate. Michael’s left hand cupped Andy’s head, his right moved along his back, caressing him with the same teasing touch.

Michael explored the length of Andy’s spin, grazed the curve of his waist, and enjoyed the hard, swelling rise of his ass. The he rolled again, pinning Andy beneath him. His touch was no longer feather-light, nor slow. He needed to feel Andy, to soothe the fever in his palms with the masculinity of Andy’s flesh. His hands were rugged and calloused; yet where they touched upon Andy roughly, he soothed him with the gentle healing of his kiss, and with the soft stroke of his tongue. He wanted to arouse Andy, but more than that, he was fascinated by his scent; he was a mixture of soap as well as his masculine scent, woodsy and earthy all at the same time.

Andy no longer lay still; he writhed and arched to the play of Michael’s hands and lips. Michael gloried in Andy’s motion, and felt the strength of his desire thunder within him. He moved lower against Andy, driven by some demon of the wind to know that Andy would welcome him. Michael savored the triumph as he savored Andy’s masculine intimacy, knowing that he was taken from Andy, all will to resist, and given him the beauty of moment that was nature’s gift to them.

Michael rose above Andy, laughing as Andy’s eyes met his, and then fell as flush touched Andy’s cheeks. He caught Andy with his kiss again, and Andy tasted the fervor of Michael’s passion. Andy did not remember wanting Michael there, yet he was between his thighs, and Andy had wrapped his limbs around him. The sweetness had invaded Andy completely; it burned, it raged and it consumed. It was so wonderful that it was a strange agony, yet Andy did not want it to end. His fingers dug into Michael’s arms, and he was awed by the hardness and power of them. Andy returned his kiss with a fervor that also awed him; he wanted to taste Michael, to feel him against him. Even now Michael teased him, moving against him, hard and potent, yet not entering into him, but then, not soothing that burning sweetness.

Andy ran his fingers over his back and faltered at a scar. He ran his finger around it for a moment, touched it once more, and found his ass. They, too, were hard and round and rock-muscled. Andy pressed against them with his fingers and at last Michael moved. The essence of pleasure itself could be heard in Andy’s shudder and gasp, as Michael slowly slid the hardened length fully into Andy.

Andy had welcomed him, wanted him, and craved him. A liquid warm, embracing shield shrouded Andy. Michael wanted to go slowly, to assure himself further that Andy would know the exquisite joy they could reach together. But his own need, held in careful abatement for so long, rose to engulf him. Desire drove him to a hell-bent rhythm, with shuddering strokes that invaded and sought. But it didn’t matter, for Andy was ready to meet him. He knew with a satisfaction that was ambrosial that Andy’s hips writhed and undulated beneath his. Andy’s face was buried against Michael’s shoulder and his muted cries were the loveliest melody; his hands, so uninhibited upon Michael, were the closest thing to heaven that Michael had ever known.

Long, passion-filled minutes played out, and then Michael felt Andy tense beneath him, around him, as shudder after glorious shudder gripped Andy. Andy’s cry was almost startled, yet it was a gasp that tapered into a soft moan, as his climax erupted. Michael allowed all that was within him to explode like liquid fire, and then the guttural groan of replete, satisfaction that he heard was his own.

“Please stay, Andy,” Michael whispered after he had withdrawn and pulled Andy to him.

“I’d planned on it,” he kissed Michael hard, savoring the fullness of the man’s lips as Michael’s tongue invaded his mouth.

Curled into a spooning position with Michael possessively holding Andy to him, they fell quickly asleep.

To be continued...

Posted: 11/29/13