"Holy shit, Budman!"
"There is absolutely nothing holy about this, Trent."
Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Blaine quickly disposed of the foul-smelling diaper. The second it was safely stuffed in the garbage can, he let out his breath with a loud whoosh. "Geeze Louise! Where in the hell did all that shit come from? Sheís only being fed breast milk, for Godís sake."
Grabbing the container of baby powder, Blaine rolled his baby sister over on her tummy and aimed it in the direction of her butt. One squeeze later and a cloud of sinus-clogging powder was settling over everything -- Elizabeth Anneís bottom, her back, her head, and the face of his boyfriend. Trent had, unfortunately, chosen that very moment to bend down and make silly faces at his sister.
Blaine fell out laughing when the teen straightened and glared at him, his green eyes blazing in a sea of white.
"Ha, ha. Very funny," Trent groused, scrubbing his mouth clean with the back of his hand.
Keeping a firm hold on his sisterís back, Blaine circled the changing table, his only thought to help his boyfriend wipe the powder from his face. The moment he saw the gleam in Trentís eyes he reversed directions. "Uh, Trent, uh, whatever youíre thinking, donít." Blaine hoisted Elizabeth Anne off the table and held her directly in front of himself like a protective shield. "Baby on board, remember? No rough housing near the baby. House rules."
Trent took possession of Elizabeth Anne and carefully laid her down in her crib, making sure she was positioned correctly on her belly. With a final pat to her back, which caused another, albeit smaller, cloud of powder to rise in the air, he turned around.
Blaine thought of fleeing to Antarctica but, before he could even move, Trent tackled him against the wall next to the changing table. The kiss that followed had Blaine frantically wishing he could reach the bottle of baby oil spied out of the corner of his eye. Of course if he couldnít get to the oil, there was a container of lotion right behind Trent, and lotion that was safe enough for a baby had to be safe enough for what he had in mind, right?
It didnít take long before the lack of air made him realize breathing was more important than fucking. Blaine ripped his mouth away from Trentís. "Wow," he gasped between sucking in shitloads of oxygen.
Laughter filled the room again, but this time it was Trent laughing at Blaine. "You should see yourself," he crowed.
Blaine could only imagine what he looked like. No doubt there was powder smeared all over his face, courtesy of one Mr. Trent Anderson and his breath-stealing kisses. Grabbing a handful of baby wipes, he scrubbed his face clean and then handed the wipes to his boyfriend. Unhappy sounds from the antique baby crib reminded him of the task he had yet to complete.
A fresh diaper was confiscated from a nearby pile and expertly fitted on Elizabeth Anneís tiny bum. He was in the process of slipping a pink Winnie-the-Pooh jumpsuit on his sister when Trent spoke up.
"Hate to tell ya, but you just diapered a powdered poopy butt."
"Huh?" Blaine looked down at Elizabeth Anne and then over at Trent. "What are you talking about?"
"You forgot to wash her butt off before plastering it with powder."
Eyes wide with chagrin, Blaine contemplated the gazillion number of snaps and buttons he had just finished fastening. "I wonít tell if you wonít," he whispered in a conspiratorial voice to his sister and grinned when she cooed in response.
"How Ďbout you? You promise not to spill the beans?" Blaine glanced over his shoulder and found his boyfriend staring at Elizabeth Anne. The look of tenderness on the younger boyís face had Blaine falling in love with the him all over again.
Trent had suffered a major dose of guilt with regards to the death of Elizabeth Anneís twin brother and had refused to have anything to do with the newest member of the Matthews family once she was allowed home from the hospital. It wasnít until Blaine had locked Trent and Elizabeth Anne in the babyís room that his boyfriend had even consented to look at her. Listening with the baby monitor, Blaine had given the two of them time to bond, and when he finally opened the door an hour later, he had been relieved to find Trent firmly ensconced in his grandmotherís rocking chair cuddling Elizabeth Anne against his chest. It was love at first sight for the two, and Trent was now a constant visitor to the babyís room.
Trentís voice interrupted his musings. "Yeah?" Blaine grabbed a blanket and tucked it around his sisterís tiny body.
"Just checking," Trent said. "You seemed lost in thought."
"Nah." Embarrassed to confess his sappy thoughts, Blaine asked, "Just wondering if weíre still going to the racetrack this afternoon?"
Trent shoved Blaine out of the way and bent over the edge of the crib so that he could tickle his newest girlfriend. "Sure thing," he answered. "Dad said our passes would be waiting for us at the gate."
"Cool." Blaine slipped in behind Trent and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Canít believe weíre gonna have full access to Kenney Buscheís pit crew. Itíll be like weíre at the Indy 500. Sliding his hand beneath Trentís tee, Blaine palmed his boyfriendís well-defined pecs and smiled when he heard the groan that welcomed his touch. "You sure this wonít cause problems for your dad. I mean he just got this job."
"Fuck!" Trent exclaimed, shoving back against the rock-solid shaft riding his crack. "I mean, no. Dad and Kenney are good friends. Remember me telling you how they served together in the National Guard after college?"
Trentís enthusiastic response had Blaine shuddering helplessly. "What with the way your ass is making nice with my dick, itís a wonder I can remember my name, much less anything else."
"Good thing Elizabeth Anne is here." Trent twisted around wearing a wicked grin on his face. "Otherwise, my ass would be doing more than making nice."
Blaine was on the verge of reminding Trent to behave when he was shut down cold by a kiss that was anything but cold.
"Letís blow this place, Budman," Trent whispered.
"Did you have to use the word blow?" Blaine asked while adjusting himself in his jeans. He was halfway out the door when Trent stopped him.
"Forget something?" the teenager asked.
Blaine stared quizzically at his boyfriendís smirk for a full ten seconds before slapping his forehead. "Oh shit!" Backtracking immediately, he gathered up his baby sister and rejoined Trent at the door. "Youíd think Iíd remember something as important as this little cutie." He held Elizabeth Anne up in the air and raspberried here tummy.
"Youíre forgiven, Budman. I mean," Trent slid a hand down over Blaineís crotch, "you did have your mind on other things."
"If you donít remove your hand from my thing," Blaine warned, "Elizabeth Anne is going to get an eyeful, and Iím pretty sure sheís a little too young for such a sight as that."
Hooting laughter preceded him down the hall. Shaking his head, Blaine followed after Trent while softly confessing to Elizabeth Anne, "Heís the one, baby sister, which means a lot of hugging and kissing and other stuff." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Lots and lots of other stuff, knowing Trent. Think you can handle it?"
Baby bubbles were his answer, and Blaine had no problem with that.
Trent didnít know where to look first so he tried looking everywhere at once. The driver, the car, the NASCAR race track, the crowd, his dad, Blaine. His gawking halted the second his gaze lit upon his boyfriend.
Damn if Blaine didnít look good. Standing there in his tight Leviís and the white, sleeveless Harley Davidson t-shirt. Trent couldnít remember a time when the older teenager wasnít tan and buff with muscles that had all the boys jealous and all the girls drooling. Even when he was younger, Blaine was always working out with weights. It was something he and his dad did together, which was one reason the Matthews men were the envy of all.
"Drool all you want, people," Trent whispered to no one in particular. "That ass belongs to me, and as soon as I can get Blaine home and in bed, that ass will literally be mine."
Two days ago Blaine had claimed his ass with a fucking that Trent would remember for the rest of his life. The act itself had been mind-blowing and totally exhausting, and the two of them had fallen asleep in each otherís arms shortly thereafter. The following morning was to have been all about him riding Blaineís sweet ass, but that plan had been put on hold the second he had discovered the tell-tale photographs left behind by his boyfriendís interfering sisters. Morning erections were quickly taken care of by eager hands and mouths, leaving a certain hole high and dry.
"Not for long, Budman," Trent promised with a lewd grin. "Your ass has a date with Mr. Fantastic tonight, and neither rain nor sleet nor hail will prevent me from fucking you through the floor."
Trent tore his gaze away from Blaineís fine ass when his dad slapped him on the arm.
"Got to get to work, son," Devin said. "The race starts in an hour, and I need to check over the carís engine one last time. If you can live without Blaine for a few minutes, youíre welcome to come with me."
Memories of all the times when he, as a young boy, had helped his dad work on the family vehicles came rushing back, and Trent was more than ready to go. "Sure," he said. "Blaine just got snagged by Alex. Theyíre heading to the communications truck, so . . . ." Throwing his arms open wide, he announced, "Iím all yours, Dad. Lead on."
Trent caught Blaineís attention, and with a nod of his head, indicated that he was following after his father. His boyfriend acknowledged him with a smile and a wave of his hand. Trent stood staring at Blaineís retreating form until his ear was yanked on none too gently.
"Lord, son, try and keep your mind on whatís happening today. Not every kid gets a chance to see a NASCAR race up close and personal."
"Sorry, Dad." Trent knew his cheeks were fire-engine red. Hanging his head in embarrassment, he mumbled, "This thing with Blaine is just so damn new. I canít quite believe---"
Devin interrupted. "Itís okay. I was just joking." He threw an arm around his son. "Believe it or not, I do remember what it was like to be head over heels in love. Hell, I followed after your mom with my jaw dragging the ground half the time." Devin rubbed his forehead. "I still to this day canít figure out what she saw in me."
Trent walked along side his father. "Mom used to say she wouldnít trade you for all the Don Johnsonís in the world. And her face always, always lit up with a huge smile the minute she saw you. Even when the pain from the cancer got so bad . . . ." Unable to continue, Trent clutched the locket hidden under his tee. "She loved you, Dad," he choked out, "to the max."
"You, too," Devin replied.
Trent glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of the shadows of sadness and loss that chased across his fatherís face. His own eyes immediately filled with unshed tears. Welcoming the arm slung across his shoulder, Trent traded smiles with the man he admired above all others and vowed right then and there to love Blaine as much as his parents had loved each other.
"How Ďbout we go check out Kenneyís ride?" Devin said after a moment of shared silence.
"Yeah." Trent wiped his eyes and grinned. "Hey, Dad, you think Kenney would mind if I sat inside the car? Maybe take it for a spin?"
"In your dreams, Sport."
Shading his eyes from the bright sunlight, Trent searched the bustling area for his boyfriend. He came up empty-handed.
"Where are ya, Budman?"
Garrett Steele, the crew member in charge of refueling, stood nearby. Seeing no one else he knew well enough to question, Trent approached him. "Mr. Steele, remember me?"
The former WWF wrestler glanced his way. "Youíre Devinís boy, right?" he asked, pushing his sunglasses up and squinting at him.
"Yeah, thatís me," Trent answered. He again did a quick search of the crowd in and around the pit. "You havenít by any chance seen my friend, Blaine?" he asked. "I canít find him anywhere."
"Hang on a sec." Steele cocked his head to the left and listened to whoever was communicating with him through his headphones. "No, weíre good to go," he said into the pencil-thin microphone that rested against his jaw. "Hey, Hank, Iíve got Devinís boy here with me." Steele clasped Trentís arm and dragged him close. "Seems his friend is MIA. Do you see him on the monitors?"
The answer he received was obviously not to his liking. Steele turned away and cupped his hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep his conversation private. It was a waste of effort; Trent heard every word.
"Shit. Are you sure, Hank?"
Steele looked over his shoulder and frowned. His look of displeasure only served to increase Trentís anxiety. Something was not right, and somehow it involved Blaine.
"Mr. Steele?" Trent tugged on the older manís arm and jumped back when Steele shouted into his microphone.
"Tell that shit-for-brains to get his fucking ass over here ASAP."
"Whatís wrong?" Trent asked. "Has something happened to Blaine? Is he in trouble?"
Steele took a moment to check on the members of his crew. "Your friendís fine," he eventually answered. "But if I was you, Iíd warn him to stay away from Alex." Steele headed off Trentís next question with a curt motion of his hand. "Alex is our resident Romeo, and it seems heís taken a somewhat active interest in your friend."
Trent blinked and then blinked again. He was stunned to say the least. Yeah, he expected girls to throw themselves at Blaine, but it never crossed him mind to worry about guys putting the moves on his boyfriend. Why this hadnít occurred to him he couldnít say but shit, now heíd have to keep his eye on both genders. Blaine was his, and nobody better mess with what belonged to him. In fact, as soon as he laid eyes on Alex, heíd make it crystal clear that it was hands off or else.
Steele broke his train of thought with a tap to his arm. "Here comes your friend," he said.
Trent closely examined his boyfriend and except for flushed cheeks, Blaine appeared to be okay. The same couldnít be said for Alex. The dark-skinned Cajun sported a split lip and the beginnings of a major shiner. Trent couldnít help but grin when he saw the physical evidence of Blaineís rejection.
Trent met his boyfriend halfway after thanking Mr. Steele for his help. He clasped Blaineís hand for a brief second and smiled when his was squeezed in response. "You okay?" he asked.
Blaine nodded sharply. "Iím gonna go look for your dad," he forced out between clenched teeth.
From the murderous look on Blaineís face, Trent could tell that Alexís well-being was in serious danger. "Yeah, sure." He nodded his understanding and stepped to the side. As soon as Blaine passed Trent stepped back and blocked Alex from following. Crossing his arms over his chest he declared emphatically, "Blaineís mine."
"Says who, Junior?" Alex asked with a sneer. "Itís not like heís wearing a fucking wedding ring."
Fists clenched, Trent got right up in the manís face. Before he could put his anger into words, Steele stepped between them.
"You," he pointed to Alex, "have a job to do. I suggest you get to it."
"You," Steele turned his attention to Trent, "need to go find your dad so that he can take you and your friend up to the ownerís box. Kenneyís arranged for the two of you to watch the race from there."
Taking a huge calming breath, Trent again thanked the older man. Whether he knew or not, Steele had prevented one major spilling of blood. Of course, it went without saying, that the blood would have been Alexís and not his.
With a feral grin planted firmly in place, Trent stood staring at Alex long after the Cajun had disappeared from view. He nodded decisively once, then turned and went in search of his boyfriend.
"Blaine is mine, you asshole, and if you want proof, proof is what youíll get. Irrefutable proof."
Blaine exited the bathroom with a towel slung around his neck. He had just finished taking the longest, hottest shower of his life in an attempt to wash away Alexís unwelcomed touch. The man had not only bruised the family jewels but had attempted to lay a kiss on him with a breath that reeked of garlic and cigars. It was a wonder he hadnít barfed all over the manís shoes.
Blaine used the towel around his neck to dry his hair, then swiped at the moisture still clinging to his bare chest. Naked, he crossed the room to his dresser and collected a pair of ratty old jeans. The towel around his neck was accurately tossed through the bathroom door. Blaine flexed his shoulder and grinned when he felt absolutely no pain. Baseball practice would start the minute he arrived at college, and he needed to be in the best shape possible.
Pulling on his jeans, Blaine moved over to the bed, leaving the waistband unbuttoned and the zipper at half-mast. He was making himself comfortable when his father walked in.
Sean took a look around. "Whereís Trent?" he asked.
Leaning back against the pillows piled behind him, Blaine collected the Clive Cussler book he was reading. "Said he had an errand to run." He glanced at the clock on his dresser. "Are you guys still going to the movies?"
"Yeah." Sean picked up the NASCAR cap Blaine had brought home with him from the racetrack. "Sure you and Trent donít want to come with us? Iíd appreciate the support." His father grimaced. "Itís another one of those chick flicks, and I just know Iím gonna end up with a soaked shirt from all the crying. If you and Trent came along, itíd be one guy per girl. You two could handle your sisters while I take care of your mom."
Blaine laughed. "And just where does Elizabeth Anne fit into this equation?"
"Your baby sisterís got the best deal of all." Sean tossed the cap at Blaine. "Sheís visiting with your grandparents."
Grinning, Blaine threw the cap back at his father. "Youíre on your own, Pops. Have fun."
Sean glared at his son for all of thirty seconds before breaking into laughter. "Hey, just so youíll know, Danís coming for a visit next week."
Blaine tried hard to keep his surprise from showing on his face. "Momís okay with him coming?" His father directed a confused look his way, and Blaine hurried to explain. "I mean, sheís kinda got her hands filled with Elizabeth Anne. Is she up to it?"
Sean slipped the NASCAR cap on his head. "Actually, your momís the one who suggested he come. Guess sheís tired of me hovering over her 24/7."
Blaine nodded his understanding. His dad had always been protective of the women in his life, and it came as no surprise for him to shift into high gear with the birth of Elizabeth Anne, especially considering the circumstances.
Blaine hid his grin. Talk about mother hen syndrome. Except for when he was at work, his dad was at his motherís side pretty much all the time. No wonder sheíd asked his fatherís former lover to come for a visit.
"Itíll be good to see Uncle Dan before I go off to college," Blaine told his father.
"Yeah, same here." Sean checked his reflection in the mirror. "Hate to admit it, but I miss having him around. Californiaís so damn far away. Wish heíd move back home."
Blaine considered what that meant and when a certain image came to mind, he slammed shut the door on those thoughts. It was one thing to know his dad was bi and was once in a relationship with the man he called uncle. It was another to imagine what that relationship entailed.
Blaine quickly changed the subject. "If you want, you can wear my hat to the movies."
Sean touched the capís brim. "Well, thank you, son. Thatís mighty generous."
Blaine grinned at the woe-is-me look on his dadís face. "Itís the least I can do."
"Sean! Itís time to leave."
"Yeah, Dad. Letís get this show on the road!"
"Daaaaad! Itís Paul Walker. Come on already."
Blaine grinned openly. "Your entourage awaits you."
Sean glanced at the door as if he was about to face a firing squad. "Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind? Offer you money? Buy you a new truck? Stocks? Bonds? Give you my baseball card collection?"
Blaine opened his book, once again concealing his grin. "Iíd haul butt if I was you, Dad. You know what happens when Mom uses that tone of voice."
"Oh yeah. Iím shaking in my boots." Waving a hand through the air, Sean walked to the door and barely kept from running smack into Trent. "Try and leave some food in the fridge, okay, you two? Last time we went to the movies and left you guys behind, the only thing left in the fridge was a wilted head of lettuce."
"Donít worry, Mr. Matthews, we ate before we came home," Trent said, patting the older man on the shoulder. "But if we do raid the fridge, weíll make sure to leave at least a tomato to go along with that head of lettuce. Just in case you want to make a salad."
Sean shook a warning finger at both boys before leaving. "If I had known then what I know now," he loudly muttered as he headed down the hallway, "I would have most definitely become a monk. Kids!"
Blaine shared a chuckle with his boyfriend while listening to his fatherís most favorite rant. If heíd heard it once, heíd heard it a thousand times.
"Did you get your errand done?" he asked after plumping the pillows behind his back.
"Yep," Trent replied after locking the bedroom door. Kicking off his shoes and socks, he joined Blaine on the bed. "Iím all yours, Budman." The teen rolled over on his belly and eyed the tantalizing crotch that was mere inches away. "Or should I say youíre all mine." Trent gazed hopefully up at his boyfriend.
Blaine obeyed the silent request glimpsed in the green eyes staring at him. Spreading his legs, he groaned softly when one very lean and trim body settled between them. It didnít take an Einstein to realize what was on Trentís mind. The way his boyfriend was eyeing his package and licking his lips, Blaine knew he was about to have his brains sucked out through his dick.
So not a problem, he thought dazedly.
Hands cradled his ass, pulling him lower in bed so that his crotch could be nuzzled. Moaning, Blaine tangled his fingers in the soft strands of hair brushing against his naked abdomen.
"Suck me, Trent," he begged. "Iím clean. Just took a shower and washed that bastardís touch off me."
The teeth pulling open his zipper stopped what they were doing, leaving his near-to-bursting dick confined. He knew he should question Trentís hesitation, but his mind was totally occupied elsewhere. It hurt like hell to be left stranded with his jeans half undone, especially considering the fact that he had neglected to put on underwear after his shower. The zipperís metal teeth bit into the super sensitive flesh of his shaft, causing him to hiss aloud. "Treeennnnnnntttttt."
Opening eyes he didnít realize he had closed, Blaine watched in confusion. Trent had not only changed his mind about giving him a blowjob but was now pulling away completely and scrambling to his knees. Blaine felt a sense of relief when the teen, thankfully, remained on the bed.
Carding a hand through his damp hair, Blaine kept his gaze pinned on Trentís face. He wasnít sure what he had done or said, but he sure as hell didnít want the boy to leave. Not tonight, not now that they were alone and could finish what they had started two nights ago.
Trent sat staring at something, and it wasnít until Blaine looked down at his chest that he realized his boyfriendís eyes were glued to his tattoo. "Something wrong with my tat?" he asked.
Trent braced his hands on his knees and learned forward. Before Blaine could ask another question, warm lips softly touched down on the shield containing Trentís initials. His wilting erection immediately surged to life again. Throwing back his head, he yelped when it banged on the headboard behind him.
"Shit!" Metal teeth gnawed at his growing shaft a second time. Frantic to avoid further pain, Blaine fumbled for his zipper, but Trent beat him to it.
"Gonna do more than suck you, Budman," Trent whispered huskily. Quickly he stripped off his clothes, rolling back and forth on the bed, shucking off shirt, jeans and underwear until he was completely naked. "Iím going to fuck you," he declared, getting to his knees and leaning forward so that he could whisper in Blaineís ear. "Gonna nail your fine ass to this bed and make you mine."
Trent eased Blaineís jeans down his legs and, once they were free, threw them on the floor. "Damn," he exclaimed when he got his first look at the erection pointing straight at him. "I sure as hell will never get tired of looking at that big boy."
Blaine grew extremely short-winded when the head of his dick was swiped repeatedly by the hottest tongue in the South. "Ye . . . yes. Oh . . . oh hell! Trent, fuck me. Please."
Trent ignored his plea and nibbled on his dick as if it was the best tasting hotdog in the world. Helpless, Blaine watched.
It didnít take long for Trent to realize his teasing was a bit more than his boyfriend could handle. With a smirk, he rubbed a hand over his scalp. "Iíd appreciate it if you didnít snatch me bald."
"Iíd appreciate it if youíd get down to business." Blaine gripped Trentís chin, pulled him close and ravished his mouth. "We donít have all night, remember?" he warned.
"I know exactly how long we have. Checked the paper for movie times before I came over." Trent dropped his head and took a tour of Blaineís chest, sucking hard on his pierced nipples and nipping at the six-pack abs below them.
Blaine sunk his fingers in the thickness of Trentís hair and tried to guide his blazing mouth to where it was needed most. "Come on. Suck me." For a moment he thought Trent would give in. Unfortunately, the mouth driving him insane refused to budge an inch once it encountered a bellybutton that begged to be explored.
After several minutes Trent took pity on him. "Whereís the stuff?" he asked.
Forcing one hand away from Trentís head, Blaine reached under the pillow next to him and handed over his bottle of lube. "Here," he said.
Trent glanced at the half-empty bottle and chuckled. "Looks like youíve been dancing solo quite a bit."
"You have no idea," Blaine replied. He hunted for the condoms he had tucked under his pillow the second he found out his family was going to the movies. Locating one, he tossed it at his boyfriend. "Suit up, babe. My ass is getting mighty impatient."
Trent grabbed for the foil wrapper and ripped it open with his teeth. Blaine nearly reclaimed the condom because he so desperately wanted to do the honors of sliding it on. Unfortunately his brain was in the process of a major meltdown, and the reason for his state of mental mush was the inferno inhaling the entire length of his dick.
It wasnít long until a finger breached his hole, and Blaine again felt the same breath-stealing sensation he had before. His entire body tightened, tightened almost to the point of pain.
Trent obviously sensed his distress. He allowed Blaineís dick to slip from his mouth, and laying his head down on the thigh closest to him, started crooning nonsensical words.
The tension soon eased, leaving behind a hunger that damn near paralyzed Blaine. The paralysis evaporated when a second and then a third slippery finger gently slid inside his ass and stretched muscles that had never embraced anything larger than the narrow dildo his dad had given him on his sixteenth birthday. Of course it went without saying that the three fingers riding his hole were so much better.
Blaine pulled his knees to his chest. "Fuck me," he growled. "Now."
Trent fumbled for the lube. As soon as he was coated with the slick stuff, he grabbed Blaineís legs and hooked them over his shoulders. "Ready, Budman?" he asked.
"What the hell do you think?" Blaine lifted his hips off the bed. "For Godís sake."
"Okay, okay." Trent rolled his eyes. "Guess somebodyís not in the mood for romance."
Blaine glared at his boyfriend. "I swear Iím gonna---HOLY SHIT!" Looking down the length of his torso, he watched in utter amazement at the monster dick knocking at his back door. It slid in slowly, one torturous inch at a time.
Levitating off the bed, Blaine sobbed with relief once Trentís bad boy was completely sheathed inside his ass. It burned, it hurt like hell, but seconds later, it felt fucking amazing, became the most unbelievable feeling he had ever experienced in his entire life.
How could it get any better than this? he wondered.
The red-hot poker in his ass shifted, and Blaine knew exactly what it would take to make it better.
"Dammit, Trent, move. Nail my ass."
Gently his raised legs were repositioned, and Trent went to work fulfilling his request.
"This . . . this is fan-fucking-tastic. So hot, so damn . . . Shit, Blaine, itís . . . ." Trent leaned forward, pushing Blaineís legs into his chest so that he was almost bent in two. "Awesome, awesome, awesome" he muttered each time he sank balls deep inside the tight hole gripping his dick. His concentration was so focused on what he was doing that he completely forgot the insistent hard-on poking him in the belly.
Wanting the two of them to come together, Blaine took himself in hand. He jerked on his dick while watching Trentís face. The sixteen year old looked overwhelmed, ecstatic, and in pain, all at the same time. It was the same look Blaine knew he had worn the night he had claimed Trentís virgin ass.
Blaine groaned when Trent pressed forward in an attempt to capture a kiss. His legs were almost numb by the time his boyfriend realized he couldnít reach his objective. What did reach though was Trentís chain and the graduation ring hanging from it. The heavy gold ring repeatedly slammed into his chin. Finally Blaine grabbed the darn thing and slung it so that it disappeared over Trentís shoulder.
The ring, the chain, his bruised chin -- all of it faded from his mind the second Trent nailed his prostate not once but twice. Pleasure beyond description shorted out his brain, and Blaine came like heíd never come before. Roaring at the top of his lungs, he screamed Trentís name repeatedly as his release coated his abdomen and chest.
The fireworks were still going off full blast when Trent shot his load. Searing heat flooded his ass, and all conscious thoughts went up in smoke. By the time his brain came back online, an incoherent Trent was plastered to his chest, mumbling what Blaine could only hope were declarations of love.
"Mine . . . nobody will never . . . always, always . . . forever . . . can plainly see . . . no mistakiní it now."
Blaine shook his head in amazement and rolled Trent over on his back. The guy was making absolutely no sense at all, but then again, considering what had just happened, it was a wonder Trent could even speak.
"Yep, yep," the boy mumbled. "Until death . . . with this ring . . . ."
Blaine had long quit listening. He was too busy licking clean his boyfriendís abdomen and chest. The comment about the ring eventually snagged his attention.
"Speaking of rings . . ." Blaine hooked a finger under the thin gold chain hugging Trentís neck. It took a bit of maneuvering, both of Trent and of the chain, before Blaine was able to liberate his high school graduation ring. He worked it along the chain until it lay nestled amongst sparse chest hair.
"I know you donít want to hear this," he whispered, "but I really do wish you would wear my ring." Blaine continued to gaze at the piece of jewelry, and it wasnít long before something struck him as a little bit off.
He flattened his hands on Trentís chest, framing the chain with his outstretched fingers. Once he did that he realized what was wrong. "What the hell?"
Choked with emotion, Blaine stared dumbfounded at the simple gold band adorning his left ring finger. He had never seen the ring before in his life and could only surmise that Trent had slipped it on him while they were making love. "At least now I know what you were mumbling about."
Blaine looked from his ring to the one that hung from the chain around Trentís neck. "Wonder if this means weíre---"
His eyes widening with dismay, Blaine scrambled to his knees. "Trent, wake up," he called to his drowsy boyfriend.
Trent mumbled something and tried to roll over on his side. "Later, dude, okay? Iím wiped out."
Blaine caught hold of Trentís shoulders and prevented him from turning. "Trent, wake up. Open your eyes." A face-splitting yawn was his only response. "Trent!" Blaine yelled. "Open your goddamn eyes and look at me."
Trent snapped his eyes open and sat straight up, nearly throwing Blaine off the bed. "What? What? Is there a fire? Is the fam back already?"
Blaine straddled Trentís thighs and held the teenager in place by clutching the chain around his neck. "Whereís your motherís locket?" he demanded. Leaning forward, he got right up in Trentís face. "Tell me you didnít pawn your motherís locket so that you could buy me this ring." Blaine held his left hand up.
Trent refused to meet his eyes, looking instead at the ring in question. "It was only a cheap piece of jewelry. Nothing special," he mumbled, his voice catching on the last word.
"Trent Anderson, that locket was not a che--"
Trent cut Blaine off. "Besides, youíre about to go off to college without me. I need to make sure that everybody there knows youíre taken, that you belong to me."
"Plus," he lifted his head and looked Blaine straight in the eye, "I donít want you forgetting me. Hell, Blaine, youíre gonna be over there with all those jocks and such, and as fine looking as you are, I just know somebodyís gonna try and put the moves on you, try to get in your pants Ďcause youíre so damn sexy."
Trent caught Blaineís hand and fiddled with the ring he had slipped on earlier. "I mean I know Iím not all that great to look at, and I sure as hell donít have the smarts like you. Not to mention Iím a total rookie when it comes to all this gay stuff. I have no doubt that you could find somebody better and handsomer and smarter to love---
Blaine halted Trentís outburst with a kiss that had them both moaning and struggling for breath. He thought he had accomplished his mission, but the second they pulled apart for air, Trent was right back at it.
"It goes without saying that I love you, Budman. And to think that in just three months youíll be gone and Iíll be left---"
Blaine kissed Trent again, and this time when the kiss ended, silence, thankfully, was his only response. Lying back down on the bed, he tugged on Trentís arm. "Come here," he instructed. "Let me hold you."
Trent slid into place beside him, using his chest as a pillow.
Spreading his legs, Blaine coaxed Trent into slipping one of his between them. Once he did so, the new position brought their dicks into contact. Both of them groaned in unison and spent the next few minutes just enjoying the unique sensation.
After a while, Blaine threaded his fingers through Trentís hair and used the soft strands as leverage, pulling him away from the nipple he was lazily licking.
"I love this ring," he told his boyfriend as soon as he had his full attention. "And it blows my mind to know the sacrifice you made in order to buy it."
Blaine swooped in for a quick kiss, then said with absolute seriousness, "I need you to listen to me, Trent, and listen to me good." Looking directly into the doubting green eyes staring back at him, he declared, "One, I will always wear your ring."
"Two, you can rest assured that no guy or girl will steal me away from you. Hell, if you want, you can write number two in stone, Ďcause, three . . ."
Blaine wrapped both his arms and legs around Trent and squeezed for all he was worth. "Three, I love you, you dork. Iíve loved you since I was 12, and I plan to keep on loving you until, well . . ." He held up his left hand again. ". . . Ďtil death do us part. Howís that sound?"
Trent hid his face against the side of Blaineís neck and huskily whispered, "Sounds perfect, Budman."
The two of them spent the next hour kissing and leisurely exploring each otherís body. It wasnít until they were drying each other off after a playful shower that Blaine got up the gumption to ask the question that had been plaguing him since heíd discovered the ring on his finger.
Trent tossed Blaine the comb he had borrowed. "Yeah?"
Blaine stepped into place behind his boyfriend and nuzzled the back of his neck. "Do you think it would be okay for you to start wearing my ring now? I mean, Iíll be wearing yours. The least you cou---"
Trent turned unexpectedly and captured Blaineís mouth in a searing kiss. "Man, your observation skills are the pits." He held out his left hand where Blaine could see it. "Already wearing the goods, lover. Thought it was only fair."
For a moment, Blaine couldnít speak. All he could was stare at the large ring twirling loosely on Trentís finger. Finally he grabbed the younger teen by the arm and hauled him in for another kiss.
Trent happily surrendered his mouth. Once it was released, he hit Blaine with a grin that was wickedness in its purest form. "Iím starved. Letís go raid the fridge."
Mesmerized by the gorgeous ass leading the way into his bedroom, Blaine mutely followed. The object of his attention suddenly wiggled at him, and he fell out laughing. "You butt-hole!"
"Catch me and that butt-hole is all yours, Budman."
Chasing after his naked boyfriend, Blaine yelled, "Hey! Did I tell ya Uncle Danís coming for a visit?"
End of chapter 14