9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Greg

“Paul, hi! Nice to finally talk. Sorry I had to reschedule Monday. This week has been—well, let’s just say I’m glad it’s finally Friday, and I’m looking forward to the weekend.” Greg shifted his cell phone to his left hand as he slipped into his office chair and scooted it up to his desk, pushing aside piles of invoices and other documents.

“No worries about rescheduling. It’s been a beast of a week here too. Hang on just one second.” Greg heard some rustling on the other end, and then Paul, his friend and long-time client, cleared his throat and continued. “And you know what, this actually works out better for me. Meghan’s out of town today, so there’s no chance she’ll overhear.”

His curiosity sufficiently piqued, Greg leaned back in his chair and adjusted the phone slightly. “I’m intrigued. What exactly are you looking for? You’d mentioned wanting a custom print made? ”

“Well, not exactly. So, I’m not sure if this is something you even do or might be able to fit in, because it is time-sensitive, but I’ve got a vision about something, and it’s more than just a custom print.”

“Tell me more,” Greg said, pulling a notepad out of the mess on his desk. He scrounged around for another moment to find a pencil and then listened carefully, his enthusiasm building, as Paul explained his idea.

They talked for nearly an hour, and by the time Greg hung up, he was buzzing with excitement. He scanned the several pages of notes he’d taken as his mind raced with all the possibilities.

Custom shoot . . . Jack Mountain area and summit . . . For Meghan’s birthday in late October . . . Photo collage book plus extra-large print . . .

His energy spiked, and Greg buried himself in research for the next few hours. He studied the mountain, roughly mapped the nearly fifty-mile path to circumnavigate it and nearby Crater Mountain, and read stories online from the few who had climbed to the summit. As Paul had mentioned, there seemed to be a complete absence of high-quality, professional photos from the summit.

It seemed like the trip of a lifetime, and he vaguely wondered why he hadn’t ever considered it until now.

But then he frowned and stared at his computer screen, the tab still showing one hiker’s detailed topographical map. The hike would take a week. Maybe more. And it was probably nearly twenty thousand feet of elevation gain to summit both peaks and complete the circumnavigation path. Plus there were several stretches that were designated as class-four climbs.

That was no small feat, especially considering that he’d have to be carrying a week’s worth of supplies, all of his camping gear, and his camera and equipment .

His younger self wouldn’t have hesitated to go on a fully funded trip like this. But now, at fifty-six, even with as fit as he still was, it would be a challenge.

And that wasn’t even considering the timeline.

Paul wanted the gift for his wife, Meghan, for her sixtieth birthday. Paul and Meghan had been avid hikers themselves, but Meghan had fallen ill shortly before their planned summit of Jack Mountain, and they hadn’t been able to go. That had been over a decade ago, but Paul had said Meghan still mentioned the mountain and their planned hike all the time, describing it with a yearning that Greg fully understood.

Meghan’s birthday was in late October, and the mountain wasn’t really accessible after the end of September anyway due to the potential for snow and unsafe weather conditions. He’d also need several weeks at least to edit the photos and prepare the photobook and the print.

He’d be very well compensated; the number Paul had suggested had been more than generous.

But there were a lot of factors to consider.

Greg loved a good challenge—and this was a huge one on many fronts. The desire to take photos of that landscape and to explore somewhere he hadn’t yet been was already burning deep in his belly—a familiar excitement and longing. But he was getting older. It would be difficult—physically difficult to do, that is, and it was not without risks. In fact, he realized, it might be the last time he’d have the opportunity to do something like this before his body forced him to slow down.

But his hesitation wasn’t just about the physicality of it. No, it was more than just that. It was also that he’d have to be gone from home for more than a week. And soon. He’d have maybe a week or two to prepare, and then he’d be gone for probably at least a week and a half. And Allen would be alone .

That thought stopped him, and he ran a hand through his hair and blew out a short breath. He had his answer. He couldn’t do it. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach.

“You look like you just got some bad news. Is everything okay?” Allen’s quiet voice asked from just behind him.

Greg looked up as Allen’s hand settled on his shoulder, and he gave his husband a small smile, then swiveled in his chair to face Allen and let his arms wrap low around Allen’s waist.

“No, no bad news. Just . . . thinking.”

Allen’s hands rubbed lightly down his back, and Greg leaned forward to rest his head on Allen’s stomach.

“Jack Mountain, eh?”

Greg laughed and shook his head, then released Allen and turned to shut off his computer. “It’s nothing, darling. Paul had an idea, but I’m going to have to tell him I can’t do it.”

“Oh?”

Greg’s hand paused on his mouse, and he stared at the image on the screen in front of him—a picture of the mountain taken just with someone’s cell phone camera from miles away. The longing and pull in his chest grew again, and he could almost feel the fresh mountain air around him, the rough trail under his hiking boots, the freedom and wonder and excitement. God, he wanted to be there. He closed his eyes.

“Yeah. I can’t do it,” he said simply, and he’d tried to take the emotion out of his voice, because he knew exactly what that would do to Allen, but even he heard his own disappointment. Quickly, hoping to redirect the conversation, he opened his eyes again, clicked on the Windows icon in the corner of his screen, and shut down his computer. Then he pasted a small smile on his face and turned back around to Allen. “So, I’ve got pot roast cooking in the slow cooker. It’s”—he glanced at his watch—“probably pretty close to done. How was work today?”

Allen’s expression was tight, but maybe not in the way Greg had expected. Instead, he looked concerned, maybe. Greg wasn’t quite sure.

“Is everything okay, darling?” he asked, reaching out to take Allen’s hand.

With a short nod, Allen stepped closer to Greg, and his free hand came up to cup Greg’s cheek. Greg expected some sort of discussion—Allen obviously knew there was more to his short answer that he couldn’t do the job for Paul. But rather than a discussion or a question, Allen’s expression seemed to darken slightly, and he leaned down and captured Greg’s lips in a rough kiss. The intensity of it surprised Greg, and a heat coursed through him as Allen’s tongue ran insistently along his lower lip, requesting entrance. With a groan, he released Allen’s hand to set both of his hands on his husband’s waist, then he stood slowly, their lips not losing contact. As soon as he was upright, Allen’s hands were around the back of his neck, keeping him close, and Greg pulled Allen flush against him, their hips meeting with an ache of deep longing.

God, they hadn’t made love in over two weeks.

The realization sent a rush of heat straight to Greg’s groin, and he groaned into their kiss and let one of his hands run along Allen’s back. Allen must have come into the garage straight from work, because he still wore his button-up tucked into his slacks, and the unavailability of bare skin for Greg to touch made him groan again.

Allen pulled back from their kiss, breathing hard, and with a huff of laughter, he slid his hands down Greg’s chest. “Impatient, dear?”

Greg just grunted a nonresponse as he tugged Allen’s shirt out of his slacks and lowered his mouth to Allen’s neck. His husband’s skin was slightly salty but still fresh, and Greg sucked gently, letting his tongue tease in small circles. At the same time, his hand finally found what he’d been searching for, inching under Allen’s shirt. Allen moaned and tilted his head back as Greg’s fingers grazed along the warm, smooth skin of Allen’s lower back.

He let his kisses trail down and then back up, and when he kissed a spot right under Allen’s ear, Allen sucked in a sharp breath. The sound as Allen moaned again, this time a little softer, sent more heat straight to Greg’s groin.

“Oh, my love...” Greg trailed off, his whispered words warm against Allen’s skin. His hands rubbed up Allen’s back and then down again, and when he reached Allen’s backside, he paused, shifted, and found his husband’s lips again. Allen met him kiss for kiss, their mouths moving in a pattern that was familiar and yet arousing. Allen’s hands had made their way down to the hem of Greg’s shirt, and when Greg felt Allen’s fingers tease at the waistband of his shorts, giving a little tug at the button, he pulled back from their kisses, breathing heavily. Allen pressed on, seeming undeterred by Greg’s need for air, and their lips crushed together again as he made quick work of Greg’s shorts, unbuttoning and unzipping them, then pushing them down off Greg’s hips.

It was intense, and a new rush of desire had Greg’s arousal straining in his briefs. He quickly brought his hands around to Allen’s chest and began unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling as Allen assaulted his mouth with deeper and needier kisses.

“Ah, god, do—do you . . .”

“Do I what?” Allen murmured. Then his hand slipped under the waistband of Greg’s briefs, and all of Greg’s thoughts fizzled away into nothing as Allen’s fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft.

“Uh... oh, god. I don’t know,” Greg admitted, and he pushed open Allen’s dress shirt and lowered his head to Allen’s shoulder as his erection swelled in Allen’s hand.

Lips grazed his cheek then, and Greg let his hands slide up his husband’s chest, reveling in the familiar roughness of the thin layer of coarse hair covering Allen’s upper body. He flattened his hands and ran his palms firmly over Allen’s nipples, which hardened under his touch. Greg groaned again.

“God, I love your body,” Greg rasped. “I love every inch of you. I love you.”

Allen’s breath shuddered, hot against Greg’s cheek, and Greg straightened up and lowered his mouth to Allen’s again, immediately deepening the kiss as he brought both hands to frame his husband’s face. After another slow, deliberate pump of Greg’s erection, Allen released him, and Greg whimpered a protest, his hands sliding back around to Allen’s lower back and then down farther to his backside. He pressed his hips against Allen at the same time as he pulled Allen closer.

“Ah, god,” Allen huffed, breaking the kiss again and lowering his head to Greg’s chest.

They rocked against each other once and then again, and Greg groaned. “Do you want to go upstairs—that’s what I was going to ask earlier,” he said, his voice low and husky. He gripped Allen’s backside again, holding them together, and Allen let out a long, low moan.

“Upstairs is good. I’m sorry, I should have—”

“Hmm? What? Why are you sorry?” Greg cut in, his grip on Allen loosening as he backed up a step so he could see his husband.

Allen’s cheeks were flush, and his chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. His dress shirt was halfway off—sort of pushed back off his shoulders, but not enough that it had fallen to the floor. His eyes were partly closed, and his lips slightly red and swollen from their kisses.

God, it was sexy. If he hadn’t heard the hitch in Allen’s voice with his unnecessary apology, Greg might not be able to resist just picking right back up where they’d left off. His fingers flexed gently into Allen’s sides, wanting to continue their exploration, but he shook his head and frowned as he hesitated, unsure what exactly to say.

The week had been such an emotional roller coaster, and now, this intense buildup and rush of intimacy. Of course it was emotional. Of course they were both maybe just moving a little too fast, both of them needing the comfort they always found when they were intimate. At least, he was sure that was what he needed.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, darling. What were you going to say?”

Allen’s lips twitched up into a soft smile, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Greg’s lips. It was light and undemanding—nothing like the kisses they’d just been sharing. And when Allen pulled back, he smiled again.

“I know why you stopped me, but I think this apology is... um, okay?” He laughed lightly. “I was just going to say that I’m sorry I should have showered first before getting you all worked up. I should probably still shower. I just... I got lost with you there and didn’t want to stop.”

The feeling was quite mutual, and Greg nodded, sighed deeply, and wrapped both arms around Allen, pulling him into a warm embrace. Then, after another moment, he kissed Allen’s cheek again.

“Let me take care of you,” Greg said, knowing Allen would understand what he meant.

“That would make me happy,” Allen agreed with another soft smile.

Greg gathered up his shorts, and together, the two made their way inside and upstairs. Beans was sleeping soundly in his bed, snoring away, and Greg chuckled.

“I took him out to Tiger Mountain just after I dropped you off this morning. He’s been sleeping all day. I doubt he’ll be bothering us tonight. ”

“Good,” Allen said, his rough tone sending a rush of heat to Greg’s belly. Allen tugged at Greg’s hand. “Come on.”

Once in the bathroom, Greg turned on the water in the shower and then lovingly and slowly finished undressing his husband. He touched and caressed and kissed every inch of Allen’s chest before slipping off Allen’s briefs, and he quickly undressed himself as Allen stepped ahead of him into the shower. By the time he joined Allen, Allen was leaning his back against one wall, breathing deeply as he lazily pumped his own shaft.

“Getting started without me?” Greg teased, closing the shower door behind him.

“You were taking too long,” Allen said, his voice husky and low again. He let go of his shaft and closed the distance between them. Greg met him, their mouths coming together in a kiss that was everything—slow but urgent, sensual but needy. And despite its familiarity—over three decades of similar kisses—Greg still felt all his husband’s love.

The warm water hit his back, and conscious of his husband’s comfort, Greg broke the kiss and carefully turned them around so the water would be keeping Allen warm. Allen closed his eyes with a long breath, and Greg bent down, tracing a path of kisses down Allen’s neck to his collarbone. He paused for a moment to soap up Allen’s loofah and then slowly, lovingly washed him, his hand following along behind the path of the bath sponge. He took his time, knowing how much Allen loved this, and after Allen was thoroughly clean and the soap had all rinsed off, Greg washed Allen’s hair just as gently.

It was something they’d done early on—one of the first deeply intimate acts they’d shared, actually—and Allen had admitted to Greg a long time ago that, for whatever reason, this act of love made him feel so treasured, so cherished, so precious.

Greg kissed Allen’s forehead after he finished rinsing all the shampoo from Allen’s hair. “I love you,” he whispered, dipping his head down to place another kiss on Allen’s cheek. “Let me finish up here?”

Allen gave a soft nod and then stepped aside, leaning back against the wall again. Greg saw his eyes lingering on Greg’s semi-hard shaft, and he wasn’t surprised at all when Allen reached down to start stroking himself again.

Greg groaned. “God, that’s sexy,” he rasped, and Allen just hummed a quiet response and closed his eyes.

Quickly, keeping his eyes on Allen, Greg washed himself, rinsed, and then shut off the water. He helped Allen out and toweled both of them dry. And by the time they were in their bed under the covers a few minutes later—Greg settled over Allen, kissing his neck again—all the stress of the week seemed to have melted away.

It was just the two of them, together. And it felt as it always had—so good, so right.

“God, I need you,” Allen breathed against his cheek as Greg reached between them, finding Allen’s hot, hard arousal. He closed his hand firmly around the base and stroked slowly, rocking his hips at the same time to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his own groin.

“What do you want tonight, darling?” Greg asked, not giving Allen a chance to answer before he lowered his lips to Allen’s again. The kiss deepened quickly, Allen’s hands coming up to the back of Greg’s neck and holding him closely. When Greg finally tore his lips away, he didn’t go far, breathing a path of kisses down toward Allen’s collarbone as he continued pumping his husband’s hard shaft. Allen’s hands played up into Greg’s hair, the little tease sending tendrils of warmth all the way down into his toes, and he heard a soft moan from Allen as he stopped to linger at a particularly sensitive spot right at the base of Allen’s neck.

The moan was followed by a sharp intake of breath, and Greg continued his gentle touches until Allen reached down between them to wrap his fingers around Greg’s swollen shaft. With a rough groan, Greg buried his head into Allen’s shoulder as a rush of heat and desire pulsed through him, his erection throbbing. The arm he’d propped himself up on began to tremble, and he released Allen so he could support himself.

“Ahh, yeah, that’s... that’s good.” He moaned again and rocked his hips with Allen’s slow stroke of his shaft. “Tell me—tell me exactly what you want, darling,” Greg breathed, and he pressed his lips to Allen’s shoulder.

Normally, Allen would do just that—he’d always been assertive in bed, a contrast to his personality outside the bedroom. Tonight, however, Greg felt Allen hesitate. The hand stroking Greg’s shaft faltered, and a short breath escaped Allen’s lips.

“I just want... I just want you to love me,” Allen said quietly.

His tone was unsure and shaky, and it tugged at Greg’s heart. Greg lowered himself down to his elbows and then captured his husband’s lips again in a tender kiss. “Always,” he promised.

He pulled back, shifted off Allen to grab the lube and a small towel from the drawer in the nightstand on his side of the bed, and then settled on the bed, next to his husband this time, the comforter pushed back so he could see all of his husband’s naked body. He set the bottle of lube on Allen’s other side and then took a moment to trail his fingertips down Allen’s chest and stomach. Allen’s shaft twitched with need, and Greg’s body responded, a flood of heat and want shooting through him. He inhaled sharply and repositioned himself to kneel between his husband’s legs again .

Allen had opened his eyes, but only partway, and in the dim light of the bedroom, Greg wasn’t entirely sure what he saw in his husband’s expression. But he was intent on making Allen feel good. Good and loved and cared for and cherished.

He ran both his hands up Allen’s thighs. “Turn over, darling?” he said softly.

Allen nodded, and Greg scooted back to give Allen room to roll over onto his stomach. Silently, Greg began loving his husband—caressing up Allen’s back, kissing every spot his hands touched. He encouraged Allen to arch his back and get his knees slightly under him, bringing his hips off the bed. Then, Greg lowered his mouth to Allen’s shoulder and trailed a path of warm, wet kisses all the way down, stopping only when he reached the top of Allen’s crease.

There was a soft moan as Greg reached between Allen’s legs to find his shaft, and he stroked gently as his mouth dipped lower. He kissed and licked, working his way downward with a deliberate slowness. When Greg reached the sensitive skin around the outside of Allen’s hole, Allen moaned louder and writhed slightly, pressing his backside into Greg’s mouth. With a grunt of his own, Greg released Allen’s arousal and shifted so both of his hands were on Allen’s backside, spreading his cheeks wider. Then he dipped back in again, kissing, sucking, licking. He knew just what his husband liked, and Allen’s increasingly demanding moans of pleasure, the occasional grunt of “oh, god,” and his much-too-fast breathing further directed Greg’s efforts. Needing some relief, he shifted one hand to his own shaft, pumping urgently for several strokes as his tongue continued to explore. When he pushed lightly into Allen’s hole, Allen groaned quietly and pressed back into him again.

“Ah, yeah. That’s good. That’s... ah, god.” Allen trembled and let out a short breath, and Greg pulled back briefly before dipping in again. At the same time, he released himself and shifted his hand between Allen’s legs until he found his husband’s hard shaft, and he began pumping, matching the rhythm he’d had a moment ago with his hand on his own shaft.

Allen continued to make small sounds—needy whimpers and rough, breathless moans—and Greg probed a little deeper and stroked Allen’s arousal a little faster. When he was sure Allen was just on the edge, Greg backed off slightly, pressed a light kiss to each of Allen’s cheeks, and straightened up as he slowed his stroke. He was warm, his heart racing and his fingers buzzing, and when Allen whimpered in protest, Greg bent back down to plant wet, soothing kisses on Allen’s back.

“I’m here, darling,” he breathed, and he kissed Allen again as he released Allen’s erection and sought out the bottle of lube. He squeezed some into his palm, lightly slicked his own shaft, and then circled his husband’s hole briefly before easing one finger in. Another heady rush of heat and desire flooded Greg as Allen muffled a low moan into his pillow, and Greg continued, slowly thrusting first one finger and then two in and out of his husband’s tight channel. He pressed his hips up against Allen’s backside, his shaft sliding between Allen’s legs, and when Allen reached down to stroke both of them together, Greg inhaled sharply.

God, he was close already, the familiar tightening low in his groin sending a jolt of heat and pleasure through him. He groaned, but shifted his hips backward to separate them. Allen let out a short breath and turned his head to look back at Greg, his eyes half-open.

Greg’s free hand ran soothingly up Allen’s back. “Sorry, darling. That’s as much as I can take until I’m inside you,” he said, his voice low and husky.

Then, he carefully curled his fingers to find the spot he knew would bring Allen even closer to the edge. Allen’s body jerked slightly, and Allen screwed his eyes shut as he cried out Greg’s name and arched back against Greg’s hand again.

Greg loved the feeling—knowing that he was bringing his husband so much pleasure. Gently, he kissed Allen’s back one more time, letting his lips linger there on his husband’s warm skin for an extra moment. Then he slipped his fingers out of his husband’s channel.

“Please, Greg.” Allen’s words were muffled into the pillow where his head rested, but the need in his tone was obvious.

Greg trailed a slow path of kisses up Allen’s back to his cheek, taking his time. Then he caressed between Allen’s legs again in one long, gentle stroke, and Allen gasped softly.

“I love you,” Greg whispered, his voice somehow catching on the words. Allen turned his head slightly, and Greg met him in the lightest of kisses.

“I need you,” Allen rasped when Greg pulled back.

Greg could only nod slowly, then kiss Allen one more time. He straightened up, found the lube, slicked his hard shaft again, and wiped the excess off on the towel before repositioning himself behind his lover, the tip of his erection right at Allen’s entrance.

This part—the part where they finally joined together after all the foreplay and prep—was one of his favorite moments. And part of that was the knowledge that his husband trusted him so much, found safety and love in this intimate act. It filled his heart, and he closed his eyes and rubbed one hand down the back of Allen’s thigh as he brought the other to the base of his shaft to guide himself.

With the sureness of experience, Greg started to inch his way in, and Allen met him eagerly, grunting and pushing back into him. Greg’s hard length slipped in easily, almost immediately buried deep in the tight, hot warmth of Allen’s channel. He groaned again as he settled his hands on his husband’s hips and held Allen back against him.

It was as overwhelming as always, and for just a moment, his chest tightened. Then he leaned forward, letting his hands soothe slowly up Allen’s back before dropping to the bed on either side of him.

“Kiss me,” Allen said, his tone almost demanding, and he tilted his head back in invitation. Greg met him in a lopsided kiss before he started thrusting with a slow, deliberate rhythm, just as he knew Allen liked. “Ah, god, yeah, that’s good. Good,” Allen murmured, letting his head drop back down onto the pillow in front of him.

Greg kissed Allen’s neck and rubbed his back, then slipped one hand around to find Allen’s shaft. He stroked his husband in time with his own thrusts, and Allen’s pants and moans and whimpers of pleasure became more and more insistent. Greg felt his own climax building right along with Allen’s, and he shuddered as he struggled to hold out just the little bit longer that he knew Allen needed.

“Harder now. Oh, god,” Allen huffed, and he pressed himself up onto his elbows and arched slightly, meeting Greg’s thrusts with a slightly different angle. Both of them moaned, and Greg picked up the pace for just a few more strokes before Allen clenched around him, cried out his name, and collapsed again, burying his head into the pillow to muffle his moans.

Greg thrust one final time, and then he fell forward and grunted, throbbing hard with his own release. It was another familiar thing—the intense pleasure, relief, and love that rippled through him in waves. Yet every time they made love, it seemed to renew him, to remind him just how strong their connection was.

He panted as he lowered his head to Allen’s back, reaching under his husband to run his hand along Allen’s chest. He could feel Allen still trembling underneath him, his breaths uneven and stilted, and he wanted to move to Allen’s side, gather him up in his arms, kiss him and make all the declarations of love and forever that he was feeling. But he also wanted to stay just where he was for another moment, still joined together with his husband in this intimate act that they’d only ever shared with each other.

So he settled for kissing Allen’s back, letting his hand continue to caress lightly across Allen’s chest and then down to his abdomen, and murmuring a quiet “I love you” as his spent arousal softened. Only when he heard a muffled sob from his husband did Greg finally move, allowing himself to slip out of Allen and then shifting over to Allen’s side.

He swallowed hard as he heard it again—a low, shuddering breath that caught and hitched—and his stomach clenched.

“Allen, are you—”

“I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m just...” Allen trailed off as he shook his head. Then, without looking up, Allen scooted over, turned so he was facing Greg, and curled up into his spot, his head on Greg’s shoulder and one hand resting against Greg’s bare chest. There was a quiet sniffle, and Greg closed his eyes for a second. Then he reached up, touched Allen’s cheek, and kissed his forehead gently, lovingly.

“How about I just hold you for a little while?”

Allen seemed to hesitate for a second, and Greg could almost hear the battle in his husband’s mind, no doubt running through all the reasons why them lingering in bed—rather than getting straight up to get cleaned up, change the sheets, have dinner, get back to work or whatnot—would be a burden, disruptive, troublesome. Finally, though, Allen let out another short, shuddering breath and nodded into Greg’s chest. “Please.”

Greg kissed Allen’s forehead again. “Of course, my love,” he whispered, and he pulled the comforter up over them, settled down deeper into the bed, and held Allen to him tighter.