Traditions

 

Starring Adrian and Greg from Love, Like Ghosts and the Mojo Mysteries series.

 

© Copyright 2012 Ally Blue

 

The way Greg figured, it was the ghost’s fault he ruined Thanksgiving dinner.

Adrian laughed at that idea like it was the funniest thing ever. The rat. “How do you blame a ghost in Mobile for you forgetting to put the turkey in the oven in Chapel Hill?”

“It’s a haunted gay strip club. I was picturing naked ghost strippers.” Greg used his best death glare when Adrian fell sideways on the sofa, laughing so hard he didn’t even make any noise. “Shut up. It’s not that funny.”

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Adrian sat up, still grinning and wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re the only person I know who gets distracted thinking of naked ghosts.”

“Naked ghost strippers. Get it right.” Feeling morose, Greg shuffled to the couch and plopped onto the cushions beside Adrian. “Well, the turkey won’t be done for another couple of hours. I guess I fucked up pretty bad.”

Adrian’s expression softened, the big dark eyes Greg loved filling with sympathy. “It’s really not a big deal.”

That made Greg feel better. He turned sideways and scooted closer, hooking his leg around Adrian’s. “I guess.” Adrian’s throat looked tasty, so Greg leaned forward and sucked on it for a second. He loved the low, growly sounds Adrian made when he did that. He let go with a deliberate slurp and licked the red spot he’d made. “I’m hungry now, though.”

“Oh, I see.” Burying his hand in Greg’s hair, Adrian tilted Greg’s head back for a soft, sweet kiss. “We could eat dessert first, if you want.”

Something about the glint in Adrian’s eyes said he wasn’t talking about the two pies—one pecan, one sweet potato—cooling on the kitchen counter. Greg grinned. “Oh yeah. I want.”

The wicked curve of Adrian’s lips was the only warning Greg got before he was lifted by Adrian’s mojo and flipped onto his stomach on the sofa. Adrian’s psychokinesis took hold of Greg’s jeans, opened them and eased them over his hips before he could say a word or make a move.

Not that he would’ve protested in word or action. He loved it when Adrian went all caveman on him. Especially when Adrian’s mojo got in on it.

Greg let out a protesting whine when Adrian got up. “What the fuck, Adrian? Where’re you going?” A thought occurred to him, and he perked up. “Wait, is this some kind of game? ‘Cause I can totally get behind that.” He gave his ass a little wiggle.

“No, it’s not a game. Although it’s awfully tempting, with you like that.” Adrian tossed a fond smile over his shoulder on the way to the old dresser in the corner that served as storage space for the tiny living area in their apartment. He opened a drawer, dug through it for a minute, and shut it. Moved on to the next and did the same thing. Repeated the pattern a couple more times before he gave up and turned to Greg with an impatient noise. “Okay, I give up. Where’d you put the lube?”

“Seriously?” Shaking his head, Greg pushed up on his knees, shuffled forward until he could reach the table beside the sofa and fished the new bottle of lube out of the drawer. He tossed it to Adrian as he strode back to the couch. “Why would I put it all the way over there?”

“That’s where it was last time.” Adrian shoved Greg’s face down into the sofa cushions. “Pumpkin pie flavored? Where did you even find this?”

“At Cherry Pie. The porn store? It was a holiday sale.” Greg turned his head sideways and spread his thighs as far as they would go with his jeans around them. “Anyway, we fucked over there by the dresser the time before last, so that’s why the lube was there last time. The sofa’s where we fucked last time though, so that’s why the lube’s here this time.”

Behind him, Adrian laughed. “There’s that Greg logic.”

Greg twisted his upper body until he could fix Adrian with a stern look. “Stop making fun of my logic and fuck me.”

The grin on Adrian’s face didn’t fade one iota. Which generally meant either trouble, or fun.

Most likely both.

Glory hallelujah.

Greg did his best to keep his face blank. Not that it would matter. Adrian could always see inside his head. He liked it, if he was honest.

Adrian rose to his knees, undid his jeans and pulled out his cock. He was gloriously hard. Greg’s mouth watered. Adrian’s evil grin widened, as if he knew exactly what Greg was thinking. Which he probably did.

“You want this?” Adrian stroked himself from root to tip, thumb catching the single drop of pre-come leaking from the slit and spreading it across the head where Greg knew the skin to be silky soft and warm and fucking hell, he wanted to lick it so Adrian would make that sweet, helpless noise and clench his fists in Greg’s hair. A pink flush climbed up Adrian’s neck into his cheeks. “You want my cock in your ass?”

The list of things Greg loved about Adrian stretched a couple miles long, at least. But the fact that he’d overcome his natural reserve to talk dirty to Greg during sex was probably one of the things he loved most.

Sometimes he thought he should feel ashamed of that. But not with Adrian sitting there touching himself and asking Greg—rhetorically, he assumed—if he wanted that cock inside him.

“Hell yeah, I want your cock up my ass.” Greg reached back to spread himself open. Crude, maybe, but it usually worked. “Make with the fucking.”

Adrian drew a deep, shaking breath punctuated by the click of the lube bottle opening and closing again a second later. “Dessert. Okay. Dessert first.”

Before Greg could decipher that, two slick fingers penetrated him, went straight for his gland and destroyed his power of speech. “Uuuuuu…uuuhh,” he moaned, digging his fingers into the cushions. Goddamn, Adrian knew just what he liked.

“Fuck yeah.” Adrian’s words came out in a breathless rush. His fingers slid out of Greg’s ass, and Greg felt the familiar slick press of Adrian’s tongue instead.

Greg whimpered. “Oooooh, ohfuckyes.” He tried to spread his legs, forgetting about the jeans holding his thighs in place. Stupid jeans.

“Mmmm.” Adrian’s mouth moved sideways to bite Greg’s left butt cheek. “That does not taste like pumpkin pie.”

For half a second, Greg thought his man’s expectations had become unreasonably high. Then he remembered the flavored lube. He snickered. “What’s it taste like?”

“It tastes like lube that’s supposed to taste like pumpkin pie and doesn’t.” Adrian smacked Greg’s butt. “Turn over.”

Greg obediently wriggled onto his back and started pulling off his jeans and underwear. The second he was able, he spread his legs and yanked Adrian toward him for a kiss. He wrinkled his nose. “You’re right. It tastes like ass and last year’s candy corn.”

Adrian laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s still slick, which is what counts.”

“Damn skippy.” Working his hand down between them, Greg grabbed Adrian’s cock and squeezed. “So slick this bad boy up and stick it in already.”

“God, you’re crude.” Smiling like that wasn’t an insult, Adrian leaned down to kiss Greg again, slow and deep and electric with Adrian’s power. “Thought you wanted to eat my dessert.”

Wow, that had to be the worst line ever. But the thought of getting Adrian’s cock in his mouth turned Greg’s laughter into a half-chuckle, half-groan. “You gonna eat mine?”

One dark eyebrow arched. “Are you kidding? Your ass and your cock is my favorite two-course meal.”

“Oh, my God.” Greg let go of Adrian’s prick so he could sit up. “Quick, get my dick in your mouth before you say something even stupider.”

Grinning, Adrian climbed off the couch and started stripping. “That’s my line.”

Greg made a grab for Adrian’s leg and missed when Adrian hopped out of reach, the snug black jeans Greg loved half on and half off. He managed to pull them off without falling, tossed them inside out on the floor and flopped full length on top of Greg, his shirt unbuttoned down the front and still fastened around his wrists. He gave Greg a slow, wicked smile. “You’re rotten.”

Greg grinned back, his heart pounding wildly against his breastbone. “You love it.”

The expression on Adrian’s face went from mischievous and amused to tender. He stroked his fingertips over Greg’s cheek. “I do.”

That look in Adrian’s eyes—the look that said he’d do anything, be anything, endure anything for Greg, just as Greg would for him—started an expanding warmth in Greg’s chest, like it always did. Throat tight, he framed Adrian’s face with his hands and kissed him, putting everything he felt and could never find the right words for into the press of lips and tongue.

Adrian understood, of course. He always did.

He kissed the end of Greg’s nose before turning around to straddle Greg’s face. He dipped his head to peer at Greg through the V of his legs. “First one to come has to wash the dishes.”

Greg gaped. “You fucking…ooooohhh….”

Greg moaned when the familiar warm wetness slid down over his cock. Not wanting to waste any time, Greg wrapped an arm around Adrian’s hips and guided his cock downward. Greg opened wide to take Adrian as deep as he could. Adrian’s answering moan caused an eye-crossingly wonderful vibration against the head of Greg’s prick. Using his brainpower while he still had it, Greg pawed along the sofa cushions at his side until he found the lube, opened it and got a good handful, then clicked it shut again and tossed it toward the other end of the couch in case Adrian needed more.

The evil-licious vibration happened again when Greg stuck a couple of well-lubed fingers up Adrian’s ass and rubbed his gland. Adrian’s hips moved, thrusting his cock down Greg’s throat just a little. The movement shifted Adrian’s insides around Greg’s fingers. When Adrian returned the favor, slipping his fingers inside Greg, he did it with a side of psychokinesis that tingled in Greg’s ass and around his balls.

Fuck, Greg loved that. Loved the electric zing just on the fun side of uncomfortable. Sometimes he wished he could do the same thing for Adrian. Give him the same intense-beyond-words pleasure he gave Greg. But Greg didn’t have psychokinetic powers. All he had was his hands, his mouth, his body, and his love for Adrian.

Oh, and skills. Couldn’t forget those.

Getting the balance of sucking Adrian, fingering him and feeling his own pleasure wasn’t easy, but they’d been together long enough that Greg had it down to a science. The tricky part this time was not letting Adrian’s mojo push him over the happy cliff too soon. He hated washing dishes.

Focusing as hard as he could, Greg relaxed his throat and urged Adrian’s cock deeper. Adrian didn’t make a sound this time—his own throat being pretty full of Greg’s hard-on, damn—but Greg felt the telltale tremor run through Adrian’s thighs and knew he had him. If Greg could’ve let out a whoop, he would’ve. He pushed his tongue against the base of Adrian’s cock and twisted his fingers in Adrian’s ass until he had Adrian’s hips in constant motion and tiny, muffled noises bled from Adrian’s mouth.

Victory. Hell yeah.

Or not. Adrian had skills of his own that had nothing to do with his mojo, and he was using all of them right now—the insistent press of his fingers inside Greg in spite of the bad angle, the way he circled the base of Greg’s cock with his thumb and index finger while using the rest of his hand to cradle Greg’s balls, and especially that flicky-swirly thing he did with his tongue on every upstroke.

When Greg shot in Adrian’s mouth, he couldn’t feel too sorry about losing. Hard to think of himself as a loser in this game when he got a mojo-and-Adrian-fueled orgasm out of it. He couldn’t think of anything in this life he liked more.

Except maybe feeling Adrian’s cock swell and spurt in his throat, Adrian’s mouth going slack around him, hearing the sharp, sweet sounds Adrian made when he came. Greg closed his eyes, swallowed the bitter-salty fluid and decided this was worth washing dishes for.

As usual, Adrian didn’t remove his mouth from Greg’s genitals until he did it first. He turned his head to let Adrian’s softening cock fall free of his lips, pulled his fingers out of Adrian’s butt and gave him a light smack on the hip. “Too sensitive.”

“Mmm.” Adrian pushed up on his hands so that Greg’s cock fell out of his mouth. He bent and gently kissed the head. “I love you.”

Greg laughed. “Are you talking to me or my cock?”

“Both.” Adrian turned around, his usual adorably loopy after-sex grin plastered across his face. He settled himself on top of Greg and pressed a spunk-and-fake-pumpkin-flavored kiss to his lips. “I love you, and I love your gorgeous, delicious cock.”

“You’re insane.” Still chuckling, Greg wound both arms around Adrian’s neck and rubbed their noses together. “But I love you too. And your cock. I love your cock. Oh, and I love your mojo.”

Adrian’s grin widened. “I’m pretty sure the mojo is why you’re washing the dishes tonight.”

“Jackass.” Still buzzing from his come-high, Greg couldn’t muster any real heat behind the insult. He hooked a leg around Adrian’s hips and pulled him close, nuzzling the warm, soft skin at the curve of his neck. He loved these moments with Adrian—lying together on the sofa or in the bed, just holding each other.

Adrian sighed, a happy, contented sound, his breath warm on Greg’s ear. “I’ll help you. We were pretty close anyway.”

Smiling, Greg rubbed his cheek against Adrian’s hair. Was there anybody in the world luckier than him? He didn’t think so.

He slipped one arm down around Adrian’s waist, his hand up under the shirt still hanging off Adrian’s shoulders to spread over the smooth skin of his back. “Happy Thanksgiving, babe.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, gorgeous.” Adrian planted a soft kiss on Greg’s neck. “Next year, I’m doing the turkey.”

Greg grinned. “As long as we still get dessert first.”

“Absolutely.” Lifting his head, Adrian pinned Greg with a smoldering stare. “In fact, I think it’ll have to be an annual tradition.”

Thank you baby Jesus. Greg put on his serious face. “For you, I can become a traditionalist.”

Adrian kissed him in spite of them both laughing. Nothing about their relationship had ever been traditional. They both liked it that way. But for his favorite kind of dessert? Yeah. He could get on board for a new tradition.