3: Confessions

Author's Note: The original version of this story first appeared in the Without a Trace zine, Come and Gone #3, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. Story lasted edited 6-5-2008. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)

Martin sat at the wooden table, working on another of the small but highly detailed model ships that was trapped inside a glass bottle. It required painstaking attention to detail and a diamond-cutter’s touch to construct the ships, but he enjoyed the challenge

And it felt good to be home, alone. He needed the time to make his peace with what had happened the other night – his first NA meeting. But it had been necessary, he knew that. And thank God Danny had stepped up and told him when and where.

It wasn't going to be easy, that much he already knew, but at least he was past the detox and slowly putting his life back together, with some help from his sponsor and the Addicts Anonymous group. And thank God his hands were finally steady enough that he could go back to working on this latest project, a reproduction of the Constitution.

He wondered if Sam had talked to Danny about getting him into an AA meeting, and decided that she had. It was what she'd do. Not for the first time, he was grateful that their friendship had managed to survive their attempt at a more intimate, permanent relationship.

Well, more permanent from his point of view, he knew. Sam hadn't been looking to settle down and start a family, and now he wasn't really all that sure he was, either. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then he'd been dealing with Bonnie's cancer and her death… Maybe he was just feeling a little too alone in the world, so he'd turned to Sam…

But she was still harboring feelings for Jack, who, for his part, had apparently put his feelings for Sam aside and moved on to Anne. And, seeing the two of them together, he thought they looked good, compatible, with just enough sexual tension to tell him that the sex was good between them. Yes, it looked like Jack was getting on with his life. Now, if Sam could just do the same…

He wondered, briefly, if they might not try again, but he knew they wouldn't. The friendship they shared now was much more comfortable than the intimacy they had shared before. No, he and Sam were over, for good.

Besides, he had a new relationship in his life, too. Danny.

But that wasn't the same. They might be intimate now and then, but it wasn't anything serious, at least not on Danny's part. In fact, they had spent a few months there as distant as he and Sam had been right after the break up.

He understood that Danny felt guilty about the shooting, but you would have thought that, given that they were sleeping together on and off, the man might have dropped by at least once to see how he was doing after they let him out of the hospital. But he hadn't seen Danny until he'd gone back to work, and then all Danny did was try and avoid him.

Until he got himself hooked on the pain meds, then Danny was there, calling him an "addict" and telling him he'd better get his shit together.

And he'd been right, but Martin hadn't been in a place where he could hear him, not yet anyway. Thank God he'd listened when Danny told him about the meeting that night…

He'd never forget the way Danny had saved him a seat, or the way he had let him know he wasn't too mad at him for being late… When Danny had reached over and picked up the newspaper lying on that seat, Martin had felt his heart lurch.

And Danny had been better at work since then, no longer avoiding him. In fact, their relationship had returned to the same kind of comfortable friendship they had once shared as well, before they'd had sex that first time.

They hadn't hooked up again since the shooting, and Martin was both grateful and disappointed about that. Grateful he didn't have to see Danny’s reactions to the scars left behind by the bullets, and disappointed because he'd thought that their slowly-growing relationship was going… somewhere, although he had no idea where.

A part of him, a part of his soul, knew where. But which part?

Was it even worth worrying about? Like Sam, he and Danny were good friends again, and that ought to be enough, shouldn't it?

He had once accused Sam of having given up her ability to love. That she'd learned how not to get close, and, as a result, she was slowly pulling away from him and his dreams of marriage, home and kids. But maybe he'd really been talking about himself.

When Sam had given him an opening to break off their relationship, he had jumped at it. Maybe marriage and kids weren't supposed to be part of his future.

The sad part was, he still thought about it, longed for it. But he had always preferred living alone, so why fixate on family now? He had once preferred to avoid relationships and emotional entanglements. Not that he was unfeeling. He felt things just like any other human being, but he'd learned how to ignore those feelings.

But somehow the shooting had killed off the old Martin. And at first he didn't like the new one much. He was making his peace with him now, accepting his faults and insecurities, his dreams and his… desires. But understanding did him little good if the current object of his desires was happier being just friends.

And why was it bothering him so damned much? He and Danny had never talked about commitment or relationship. They had just fucked now and then.

He heard the sound of a knock at his door and set his tools aside. He walked to the door and stopped. He hesitated to check the peep-hole, knowing he'd find Danny standing out there in the hall. And, sure enough, when he finally leaned in and looked, that's who it was.

He opened the door. "Hey, what's up?" he asked, looking around to see if one of his other teammates had come with Danny.

Danny looked a little anxious. "Uh, nothing much. I, uh, just thought I'd drop by, see how you're doing."

Martin nodded. "Oh. You, uh, want to come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure…"

Martin opened the door wider and Danny stepped into the apartment, hesitating in the living room, unsure if he should sit or stand.

Martin turned and led the way to the kitchen. They usually ended up talking in there. He started making some coffee for the two of them.

"You, uh, doing okay?" Danny asked as Martin wiped the kitchen table down with a damp washcloth.

"Yeah. Fine."

"Really?"

Martin paused, looking up at the man. His relationship with the Cuban was still complicated, and he just didn't know exactly where he stood with the man.

Maybe it would help if he just acted like they were the same friends they used to be. He shrugged. "Started having this dream… the whole shooting thing again, but I'm not the one who gets shot. Still having it and it's getting on my nerves."

Danny took a seat at the table, his attention on Martin, his expression one of honest concern. "Who gets shot, me?"

"Sometimes…" Martin said, then fell silent. "Sometimes it's Jack, or Sam… Viv, too. You want a soda?"

"Sure," Danny replied. "Got a Coke?"

Martin nodded and headed to the refrigerator. He pulled it open and took out a Coke for Danny and a rootbeer for himself. Carrying the cold cans back to the table, he handed Danny his soda, then sat down, popped the tab on his own and took a drink before he said, "It's weird, really weird. I'm trying to drive whoever's been shot to the hospital, but there are all these school buses in the way and I'm trying to get around them, but the driver pops the stop sign out and all these kids are crossing the street and I'm stuck there, waiting for them to get out of the way…"

"Okay, that's… strange."

Martin wiped the condensation off the sides of the soda can as he said, "I'm trying to stop the bleeding while I'm waiting, and I know whoever's been shot is dying, but I can’t do anything about it… It's like it's a movie. And I really want a pill, you know, but the bottle's empty and I have to get whoever it is to the hospital before I can go to the pharmacy…"

"Yeah, don't you wish you could be in two places at the same time in real life?" Danny asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Martin shook his head. "Not if it means I end up hooked again." He looked up. "When I get started again, I see the van… It's chasing us, and they're shooting at us… But sometimes they spray one of the school buses… I can see that some of the kids are getting hit…"

Danny waited for the man to take another swallow of his drink, then nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"I'm holding something to the wounds, to stop the bleeding, and trying to drive one-handed, trying to get around those damn school buses, stay far enough ahead of the van that they can't shoot up the car… And I can feel the pill bottle in my shirt pocket. I can hear the pills in it rattle around… Then I'm back in Jack's office, even though I'm still in the car… He's telling me wants my resignation, that he doesn't want a junkie on the team. He's pissed that I can't get whoever's in the car to the hospital and I get mad and tell him I'm trying, but I can't get past all the school buses…"

"Man, you don't do nightmare halfway, do you?"

Martin chuffed softly, not sure he really wanted to share the rest of the details from the dream with the Cuban. Still, he wasn't being an ass about it. "Guess not. Gets weirder, too. Jack throws me out of his office, and I'm back in the car. I can see the hospital and I'm looking for the ER entrance. Then it's usually you who's in the front seat, bleeding, but Sam's in the back seat. She's holding her stomach, her pregnant stomach… She tells me her water's broken and I have to hurry. She asks me if you're dead yet…"

"Gee, thanks, Sam."

Martin snorted softly and grinned a little. "She's pissed because she knows we slept together. And I yell at her, too… I ask her why Jack isn't there, because it's his baby, and he should be there to deal with that, because I need to get you to the ER before you bleed to death."

"And?"

"She tells me that she was going to give me the baby, because she knows I want to have a family. She says you and I can raise it."

Danny waited for several long seconds, then asked, "You really want to have kids? Someday, I mean."

"Yeah, I think so."

His eyes rounding, Danny choked on his soda. "Really?" he asked after he coughed. "In our line of work? Watching Jack give it a try, I always thought it was… too hard, I guess."

Martin nodded. "I know what you mean, and I'm not always sure that's what I want… I don't know. The shooting got me thinking about it again…"

"Hell, Martin, that makes sense, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, what happens next?"

"I'm not really sure, but eventually I get you into the hospital, and Sam, too, I think. Anyway, my father meets me there. He takes me off to a waiting room or something… He's pissed. He's yelling at me about getting shot, the pills, you… Basically he tells me that no son of his would be stupid enough to let himself get shot, or get hooked on pills, or sleep with a man…"

"Okay, that's not a dream anymore, that's a nightmare!"

Martin snorted softly. "That doesn’t bother me."

"It would bother me," Danny countered.

"I just want to know what it means."

"Have you talked to anyone about it?" Danny asked.

"If you mean the shrink, no."

The Cuban shrugged. "Maybe she could offer some insights."

Martin looked down at the tabletop, rubbing at it with the tip of his finger. "Maybe… I haven't seen her since the sessions after the shooting that I had to make."

"Then maybe you need to find one who's not connected to the Bureau."

"Yeah, maybe…"

"Martin, what's really bothering you?" Danny asked.

Fitzgerald looked up, meeting the man's eyes. "I don't know, exactly," he admitted. "Guess I'm just wondering if it's all really worth it."

"I don't think I like the sound of that."

A silence fell between the two men. Martin finally broke it, asking, "Why didn't you come to see me after the shooting?"

Danny dipped his head. "I wanted to, I really did, but all I could see was your eyes when you looked at me inside that car… You looked at me like I knew what to do, like I could actually do something to help you…"

"You did help me. The doctor said I would've bled out at the scene if you hadn't gotten me lying down and put pressure on the wounds. You saved my life."

"No, I didn't," Danny countered. "Yeah, I got you out and put pressure on the wounds, but the ambulance guys, they're the ones who saved your life. I could’ve killed you, hesitating like I did."

Martin shook his head. "No way, man. You did everything you could to help me. I know, I was there."

"Not really," Danny argued. "You were already in shock."

"Never said I wasn't," Martin replied. "It was weird, like I was trapped in my body and standing outside of it at the same time… I saw when Jack got there–"

"No way, man. You were… gone by then. Unconscious."

"Yeah, my body was," Martin said, "but I was still watching. I saw Jack pull you away… and later, in the hospital, I saw you in the ER… You lied to the doctor, and to Jack, later."

"There's no way you could know what I said to Jack. I—"

"Yeah, I know, but when you left the hospital and went back to work… it was like I was… connected to you somehow." He stopped and downed several swallows of the soda. "It was like I was a balloon and my string was tied to your belt. I just kept following you… You told Jack the doctor said you were fine, but that's not what he said. You never waited to hear what the doctor said… Why?"

"I— I don't know," Danny replied. "I wanted to find that bastard who— I knew Jack was going to need all the help he could get."

Martin nodded again, a small grin on his lips. "Yeah, right, which was why he ended up having to send you back to the office. Lot of help that turned out to be…"

Danny stood and rounded the table. He leaned on it next to Martin. "Yeah, I did something stupid, I wasn't thinking real clearly, but I was out there because I wanted to get the man responsible for shooting you."

Martin looked up and met the man's eyes. He was deadly serious. "Why?"

That took the Cuban aback. He considered the words, then said, "Because… Because shooting you made me feel helpless… He almost killed my friend…"

Martin scowled. "Just a friend, huh?"

Danny raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Friend, partner… What do you want me to say, Martin?"

"Nothing, I don't want you to say anything. I just want you to be honest with me; that's all."

Danny huffed out a breath, looking down at the man. God, he looked good again. The damage done by bullets and drugs had been replaced by a healthy glow once more. "Martin, I— I don't know… I kept thinking that it should've been me…"

"Why?"

Danny shrugged. "Hell if I know… I just did."

That made Fitzgerald grin. "Well, I guess that's natural… Survivor’s guilt, you know?"

A nod. "Yeah." He wished he could tell the man more, but he couldn't. When he got right down to it, he just wasn't sure what he felt about Martin. "But that's all behind us, right? I mean, you're healthy again, and clean…"

Martin nodded.

Danny slapped the man's shoulder. "Then what you need, my friend, is a good workout, a good meal, and a good night's sleep."

"Thanks… Mom."

Danny grinned. "Bastard."

Martin stood, finished off his soda, then carried the empty can to the kitchen, dropping it into the recycling bin. Danny trailed after him, doing the same.

Martin left the kitchen and headed for the bedroom.

"Where're you going?" the Cuban asked.

Martin stopped and turned. "Grab my gym bag for that workout, remember? Good workout, good meal, good night's sleep?"

Before he realized what he was about to say, Danny arched his eyebrows and grinned. "Would you consider another form of exercise?" He waited as Martin thought the offer over, his heart pounding. There was a slight nod. "Took you long enough," the Cuban grumbled.

"Sorry," Martin said. "I wasn't sure I should say yes."

"Why?" Danny asked, genuinely curious.

Martin shrugged. "It's been a while," he admitted. "I should probably work off some of my… energy on the weights."

It was Danny's turn to grin. "I can take as much as the weight machine."

"You think so?" Martin teased.

"Only one way to find out." Danny walked past Martin, jerking his head for the man to follow.

He headed straight for the bedroom, holding the door open for Martin, then closing it behind him after he entered. Turning, he closed the space between them, stopping when he was standing toe-to-toe with Fitzgerald. Reaching out, he rested both of his palms on the man's chest, feeling the heat rising from his skin through the cotton T-shirt he was wearing. Under his still hands Martin's nipples slowly hardened.

The two men's eyes met; desire and need in each gaze filling the space between them like a tangible layer of hot, thick air. Danny's thumbs and index fingers trapped the hard nubs peaking the cotton and squeezed. He watched the muscles in the other man's jaw jump. He squeezed harder and Martin pressed himself hard against Danny's hands, inviting more.

The Cuban's hands moved roughly over the man's ribs to his hips. He grabbed the bottom of Martin's shirt and started to lift it, but Martin reached out, stopping him.

"The scars," he said.

"I don't care, Martin."

He lifted the material, bunching it just above the man's nipple line, exposing the lightly furred, once-again muscular chest. The scars were there, one small and one larger. They were still slightly red and thick, but he knew they would heal more, with time. He wondered what the exit wounds on the man's back would look like, and knew they would be worse.

He dipped his head, his mouth covering one hard nipple. He flicked the tip of his tongue over the nub, then licked it with the flat of his tongue.

Martin made no move or sound.

Undaunted, Danny sucked on the pea-sized nipple, using his teeth to nip and tug at the sensitive skin. He felt Martin's belly quiver and, glancing down, spotted the start of a swell in the man's jeans. He reached up, rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger while he continued to tongue the first one.

Martin's breath soon shifted to long, deep draws.

Danny blazed a trail through the soft hair, kissing and licking his way to the second nipple, giving it equal time, his fingers attacking the first so it couldn't go soft. He was rewarded by a soft moan.

His fingers working the nipples, Danny licked his way down Martin's breastbone and diaphragm to his belly. Then he reached down and unbuttoned the man's Levi's, shoving them down over his hips. They fell, bunching at the man's knees. The swell in the man's briefs was large, but nowhere near full.

He stepped closer, pressing his body up against Martin's. Then, without thinking, he kissed him, his lips grinding against the other man's.

Martin responded, opening his lips to receive Danny's warm, probing tongue.

The Cuban ran his hands down the man's back, feeling the ridges from the scars as they passed, and squeezed his firm ass through the cotton of his briefs.

"Sit down," Danny instructed. "Take your shirt off."

Martin sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the T-shirt off, watching without a word as the Cuban untied his shoes and pulled them off, dropping them onto the floor. His socks followed, then his jeans. Martin leaned back, supporting his weight on his hands.

Danny knelt on the floor between his legs.

The taller man reached up, pinching Martin's nipples again, pushing him back farther so he was resting on his elbows. Then he reached down and pulled Martin's half-erect cock and balls out of his briefs, hanging them over the edge of the material.

"Pretty cock," he whispered, looking up at Martin shyly and licking his lips.

He ran his hands over Martin's thighs, then palmed the man's large, heavy nuts; Martin's cock jumped violently in reply, filling more.

Danny chuckled softly. He firmly grasped Martin's hard-on and pumped his hand up and down. At the same time, he ran his free hand over Fitz's chest and belly, rubbing the hairs against the grain, making them stand on end, but careful to avoid the scars for fear they might be tender or painful.

He touched the other man's hard nipples again and Martin made a sound like some kind of dangerous animal. Danny's hand tightened on the man's shaft and he pushed up so his lips brushed against one hard nipple. First lips surrounded it, then teeth. He bit down and Martin's hips rose off the bed. He bit down more and began sucking, making Martin's head spin with pleasure.

After an attack on the other nipple, he licked a line down Martin's hair-dusted belly. Then he was kissing Martin's cock head, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue exploring every contour of the flared knob.

Martin jacked his hips a little and Danny allowed more of the cock into his mouth, his tongue pressing roughly against the sensitive underside. He sucked the man in deeper, his tongue lashing his cock, his fingers squeezing his balls. Then, he stopped.

Looking up at Martin, he growled, "Lie down, Fitz."

Martin pushed himself up farther onto the bed, Danny pulling his briefs off at the same time. When he reached the pillows, he stopped, leaning back, waiting to see what Danny would do next.

The Cuban quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Shoes, pants, and socks followed. Martin could see the man's erection, straining against his tight briefs. Danny pulled them over his hips, allowing his cock to lurch free, straining straight up along his belly.

Taylor crawled onto the bed between Martin's legs, his mouth once again attacking the two hard nipples before he worked his way up to kiss Fitzgerald's lips again, their tongues wrestling for dominance as their lips were crushed. Hands moved over bodies, rubbing hard, pulling at flesh. Cocks poked hard against bellies.

Danny reached in, wrapping his hand around both their cocks. He started stroking them. The heat of the Cuban's dick, rubbing against his, excited Martin to full hardness and he wrapped his arms around Danny, holding him tightly. Then he slipped one hand down to the curve of the taller man's ass and squeezed. The muscle was hard from working out, running.

The Cuban hiked his left leg, his thigh pressing tightly against Martin's side, which spread the solid globes of flesh apart. Martin touched the hot pucker that was revealed and Danny shivered violently in his arms. He wormed a digit into the tight, hot passage as far as he could.

"Where's the lube?" Danny whispered hotly, his ass sucking greedily at the probing finger.

Martin used his free hand to reach over and open the single drawer on his nightstand. Several loose condoms and a tube of lubricant lay inside. He grabbed one of the foil packets and the tube.

Danny rolled off him and swung around so he was on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed, his ass facing Martin, inviting him to take him. A moment later he felt the bed shift, then he heard Martin tear open the condom and roll the rubber down his cock. The sound of the tube popping as Fitz squeezed out some of the thick, slippery material followed. His cheeks were parted and then there were fingers sliding up and down his crack, coating him with the lube.

One finger circled the closed ring of muscle before plunging inside and diving deep, scouring Danny's inner walls, driving him out of his mind with pleasure. He squirmed with desire and pressed back, wanting more.

Two fingers replaced the one, the torture continuing.

"Anytime now, Martin," the Cuban growled, thrusting back hard against the fingers.

A moment later Martin's hands were on his cheeks again, pulling them open all the way, the head of his cock pressing against his ready hole. But then… nothing. Danny reached back and grabbed the other man's shaft, squeezing it, trying to force it inside. "What?" he demanded.

There was a soft chuckle as Martin batted his hand away. "You want this?" he asked, the fat head pushing partway into the well-lubricated opening.

"No, I want more than that," Danny gasped, shoving his hips back, capturing the whole knob. He squeezed, holding the man inside.

Martin grabbed the Cuban's ass cheeks and squeezed as hard as he could, drawing a low moan of pleasure and pain from the man.

Danny relaxed his squeeze and jerked his hips back, begging for more.

Martin met the thrust, pressing down hard, lodging half of his cock inside of Danny. Two more hard thrusts and the Cuban knew he had almost every inch of Martin's cock buried inside of him.

A moment later, Martin's groin scraped against his ass cheeks.

Martin paused, letting Danny adjust to his presence, but when the Cuban began to buck his ass, trying to embed the man even deeper, he pulled back, paused, then sank himself into Taylor with one hard jerk of his hips.

"Oh yeah," Danny growled. "Do it, Martin. Do it."

Martin started slowly, but he quickly picked up speed and power, thrusting into the willing ass with abandon.

Danny's cock bounced in time with the rhythmic, hard thrusts. He wanted to reach down and pump it, but he needed both his hands right where they were to keep his balance under the powerful onslaught. He watched himself leaking precome all over Fitzgerald's bedspread, but he didn't care. He shoved back harder, sinking Martin in a fraction deeper.

"Oh, yeah," he grunted. "More, Martin."

Martin leaned over, his bare chest hot and slick against Danny's naked back. He reached under the man and caught the Cuban's cock in his hand.

Danny moaned as the man's lube-slicked fist started roughly jerking him. He bucked forward, driving more of his cock into the fist, then pistoned himself back to sink more of Martin's dick inside of him.

"Hard, Martin," he begged. "Hard."

The man obliged.

He was getting close, so close, when Martin let go of his swelling cock. He was about to protest, but then Fitz grabbed both his hips, pulling his ass apart, and started jack-hammering into him with short, powerful strokes that were like pure heaven to the Cuban.

Danny felt the cock buried inside him growing thicker, then felt the first flash of heat come bursting out of the man only to be captured by the condom tip. He squeezed his ass tight.

And when Martin felt Danny's ass clamp down on him, Martin forced his dick in deeper, several more bursts of come shooting free into the condom. He wrapped his arms around Danny, even as his hips continued to pound his cock into the man's tight, hot ass. One hand grabbed Danny's cock again, jerking it madly; the other captured a single nipple, pulling and twisting on it with equal fury.

Danny felt his ass clamp down even harder on the still-hard cock as he let go himself, hot come splashing over Martin's hand and onto his bedspread as waves of pleasure rippled through his body. He didn't think he was ever going to stop. But he did, finally, and both men slumped over.

"Ah, man, that was good," Danny panted. "Really good."

"I hate to say it, but I have to agree with you on that one."

Martin pulled out and stripped off the condom, reaching over to drop it into the small trashcan sitting between the bed and the nightstand. He was still half-hard.

Danny stared down at Martin's partial erection and grinned. "Guess the workout isn't over," he said, bending down and licking the still-pulsing cock clean. When he was done, they were both hard again.

Martin reached out, grabbing Danny's arm. "That really feel good?" he asked.

The Cuban nodded. "The best."

"I think I'd— I'd like to give it a go," he said.

Danny's eyes widened. He never expected Martin Fitzgerald to let any man fuck his ass, especially the Cuban. "You sure?"

Martin nodded.

Danny nodded. "All right. Turn over."

Martin rolled onto his belly. Danny grabbed two of the pillows and slipped them under the man's hips, raising his ass up. He noted the scars on the man's back were larger, but he had other things on his mind at the moment.

"Okay, the trick is to relax," he said, grabbing a fresh condom and the lube. He quickly rolled the rubber on, then squeezed out a large dolop of the lubricant. He rubbed the slick goo into the crack of Martin's ass. "Remember, relax," he said, poking at the tight pucker he found buried there. When there was no give, he rubbed his thumb over the opening in light circles, putting only the lightest pressure on the opening without challenging it.

A little while later Martin was moaning, his hips making tight circling movements.

Danny changed his attack on the virgin hole, his thumb rubbing harder, up and down, over the opening. The pucker began to grab at him. He shifted to a finger, rubbing over the convulsing opening for several more strokes, then dipping quickly inside.

The ring of muscles immediately tightened and Martin grunted.

"Easy," Danny soothed, pushing his finger in a little farther. He stroked the man's back, his hips, his ass. He reached under Martin and pulled his cock down so it and his balls were visible between his legs. He stroked the shaft, squeezed the head and nuts. The sphincter relaxed and he pressed in to the third knuckle.

He rotated his finger, then pulled out halfway and pressed back in. This time Martin's hips rose to help him in.

He continued to work the tight muscle, pulling and stretching it. He snuck a second finger inside. Martin moaned, pushing back, wanting them in deeper. Danny complied.

"Feels good," Martin groaned. "I wanna feel you in there."

"Too soon," Danny said. "You're not ready."

The man groaned, thrusting back harder, embedding the two fingers as deeply as possible.

"Then again, maybe you are," the Cuban replied. He fumbled with the tube, getting a handful of the lube out with one hand. He spread it on his hard cock, then pushed the rest into Martin's ass.

Fitz moaned when Danny's fingers slipped free, only to gasp when they were replaced by the head of Danny's cock. "Christ," he hissed, his head jerking up.

"Easy, Martin," Danny soothed again, stroking the man's back and ass again. When he felt the muscles relax he pushed deeper into the impossibly tight passage. He ground his teeth together, refusing to come too soon.

He paused, waiting again until the muscles relaxed, then shoved again, burying himself in the man's heat. "God you're tight," he growled. "So damn tight."

Martin moaned and bucked his hips up, wanting to be drilled.

The friction was almost too much for Danny, but he squeezed the base of his dick and started to move inside the man. He went slowly, his thrusts easy, long glides. He licked Martin's back, slowly picking up speed until he was pounding into the man's ass.

And after a minute Martin was meeting each spear-like thrust with one of his own. After two minutes Danny was riding into the willing ass as hard and as fast as he could. His thighs between Martin's, he spread the man's legs farther apart, letting him deeper and deeper inside the man's virgin chute.

Danny knew he wouldn't last much longer. He reached down, grabbing Martin's ass, his fingers curling into the hard muscles. Fitz bucked wildly and Danny felt the man shoot, hot come splattering against his leg. That was all it took and the Cuban buried himself with one last, powerful thrust and came in a climax that was as powerful as he could ever remember.

He dropped on top of Martin, lying there until his soft cock slipped out of the man's hole. Then he rolled over onto the bed, ignoring the cold wet spot under his hip. Panting for breath he said, "Don't think… I've ever done it… so close together before."

Martin crawled off the pillows. Grabbing them, he dropped them back at the head of the bed and collapsed on top of them. "You're right," he panted. "That is good."

"Glad you liked it."

Martin rolled onto his back and stretched. "Damn, I could eat a horse after a workout like that."

Danny chuckled. "Me, too. What do you say we grab a shower and get a steak?"

"I'd say that sounds like it might just hit the spot," Martin replied, grinning at the man.

Danny reached out, the back of his hand caressing Martin's cheek. "I know I wasn't there for you… but I'm really glad you're okay."

Martin met the man's eyes. "You were there when I needed you more… Those pills—"

"And I'll be there for you, whenever you need me," Danny promised.

"Thanks," Martin said, wondering if Danny had any clue at all just how much he needed him."

END
Just Friends 4: Relief

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