The Russian food was better than Garreth expected. And being with Diarmud, his green-eyed Irish angel, would have made the whole evening worthwhile anyway even if it had sucked. They talked and laughed over the meal, then he took Diarmud home – albeit reluctantly. He hesitated on the writer’s doorstep, then leaned forward and kissed Diarmud. The other man made a soft sound and lifted his arms to twine them around Garreth’s broad shoulders. Their tongues touched, and then flowed over each other as they both moaned. When he finally pulled back, Garreth looked down into Diarmud’s striking face and ran his thumb lightly along the butter-soft skin of the writer’s jaw.
“Thanks for going out with me,” he said. “I really enjoyed tonight.”
“So did I,” Diarmud replied. “Are we going to do it again sometime soon?”
Garreth felt a rush of hope and an almost giddy joy. “You want to go out with me again?” he said eagerly.
Diarmud chuckled. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? And after all, if we‘re to give Brendan his Christmas wish, we sort of have to go out again anyway, don’t we?”
Garreth grinned, wanting to grab Diarmud and twirl him around in excitement right there on the doorstep. “Yeah, that’s right,” he agreed. “So how about the day after tomorrow? I have to go over to my sister’s tomorrow night for dinner, but I’m free the day after tomorrow.”
“That’ll be fine,” Diarmud agreed. “Let me write down my cell phone number, so you can call me and we can make plans,” he stepped into his house to grab a piece of paper and a pen from the table in the entranceway.
He wrote down his cell phone number and handed the paper to Garreth. “There. Call me tomorrow,” he said commandingly, which made Garreth want to laugh. Diarmud was very, very cute when he was like this. It was like being given an order by a fairytale elf.
“I will,” he said, tucking the paper into his pocket. He stepped forward and lightly kissed Diarmud once more. “Goodnight, Diarmud,” he said.
“Goodnight, Garreth.” The writer lifted a hand as Garreth went down the front path toward his car. He was still standing on his porch when Garreth drove away, and that sight followed Garreth into his dreams, which ensured that they were all very good ones indeed.
“So are you all ready for Christmas?” Garreth asked Diarmud.
The writer paused in lifting his ale to his lips. “Yes, I am. I bought Brendan’s Wii a few weeks ago, right after he asked you for it. And I try to buy my Christmas presents early whenever possible, to avoid the holiday rush. I can’t stand fighting my way through packed stores just to save a few dollars.”
“I agree. I hate buying Christmas presents anyway,” Garreth remarked ruefully. “Especially for my sister and my nieces. I don’t know a thing about what girls like,” he went on, shaking his head.
Diarmud laughed, a charming sound that always made his stomach tighten treacherously. “Yes, I can see that. You big, bad testosterone-laden beast you,” he teased with a twinkle in his green eyes.
Garreth eyed him. Then he leaned forward over the little table and murmured: “Don’t push it, Diarmud, or I may show you just how much of a beast I can be.”
The writer’s fingers tightened on his glass of ale. His breath started to come short as he stared at Garreth, whose eyes were darkening. This was their fourth date, and so far all they’d done was kiss. God, he wanted Garreth so bad! His mouth was dry as he rasped: “Will you? Show me, Garreth?”
Garreth took in a harsh, shuddering breath. “I will if you want me to,” he growled.
Diarmud set his glass down. “Yes, I do,” he replied simply. “Very much.”
Without saying another word, Garreth surged to his feet and dragged Diarmud out of the pub by the hand. He went willingly, eager and excited for what was about to happen. It had been so long, so very long since Toby had left – and Garreth was such a fine creature, so big and muscular and sexy. Christmas was coming for him early, Diarmud thought dimly as he got into the passenger’s side of Garreth’s car.
They barely made it through his front door before Garreth grabbed him and pulled him on for a hot, eating kiss. He plundered Diarmud’s mouth, his tongue invading and taking charge in a way designed to make the writer weak at the knees with lust. He rubbed himself against Garreth’s big body, moaning like a wild beast into the kiss. His hands went under the bottom edge of the big man’s shirt, gliding over the muscular back in caressing circles.
Garreth pulled back, but only so that he could start to tear Diarmud’s clothes off. The write didn’t care in the least that his shirt was being ripped, or that buttons were flying everywhere. He simply stood there and let Garreth destroy his clothes, and his chest heaved as Garreth pulled the tattered remains away to reveal his smooth, pale chest and abdomen. The big man growled again in the back of his throat, hungrily, as he eyes the beauty revealed to him.
He hit his knees, taking Diarmud by surprise. He was so tall that he could kiss the top of the writer’s stomach with ease, and his tongue traced circles as his fingers went for the fastenings that were between him and Diarmud’s cock. The writer panted and gasped as his trousers were stripped away, yanked down his hips by those big, strong hands. Then a mouth took the place of the fabric, and he cried out as his cock was engulfed by Garreth’s hot mouth. He stared down blindly between his spread legs as the big man pleasured him, those enormous hands cradling his narrow hips and holding him ruthlessly in place.
“Oh God, Garreth!” he cried desperately, rocking his hips as best he could to drive more of himself into the other man’s mouth. “Ah, Jesus!”
Garreth’s eyes rolled up to meet his, and the lust burning in them was almost his undoing. But somehow he found the willpower to reach down and push Garreth’s head away from his groin. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said urgently. “I want you to fuck me,” he added in a dark, seductive tone of voice that made Garreth groan in the back of his throat.
The big man was all for that. He clambered to his feet and let Diarmud lead him up the stairs to his bedroom. Once there, the writer turned and began to strip Garreth’s clothes off of him in turn. He peeled off the dress shirt, revealing a massive, mascara hairy chest that made him groan with need when he saw it. His hands were shaking a little as he stripped off the pants next, and he knelt down so that Garreth could step out of them.
He returned to the cock that was now only confined by a pair of underwear that was being rapidly stained with pre-cum. He mouthed at the front of them, and Garreth moaned above his head. Feeling amazingly sexy and wild, Diarmud began to suck on the still-clothed cock, mouthing at it until Garreth was beginning him to remove the confining and uncomfortable fabric. He was glad to do so, sliding them down to reveal a large, rigidly hard organ that made him drool just to look at it. It looked good enough to eat – so he proceeded to do just that. He sucked on it like a lollipop, as Garreth’s big hands closed over his head and cradled it.
Diarmud was ruthless. He abandoned his treat as it was showing signs of being ready to shoot its load, and he heard Garreth give forth a moan of disbelieving disappointment, he smirked against the bigger man’s belly button as he began to kiss his way up that massive stomach and chest. He was being evil, but he wanted this to last as long as possible. This first time should be special. He lapped at Garreth’s skin with his pink tongue, finding the other man’s broad flat nipples and sucking at them to make him shake and groan. Big hands slid over his bare skin in turn, finding and cupping the cheeks of his ass. He loved it when Garreth squeezed them hard, and he moaned against Garreth’s shoulder and bit at the skin in wild lust.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “Garreth, I need you. Please fuck me now.”
Garreth was all for this. He needed to be inside of Diarmud, to make love to him until the writer couldn’t remember his own name anymore. But…oh, shit, he’d forgotten condoms! He groaned in despair, pulling away. When Diarmud blinked up at him questioningly, he shrugged in a sheepish gesture. I don’t have any rubbers,” he told the writer apologetically.
A wide smile full of dazzling white teeth. “Fortunately for you, Garreth, I’m like a boy scout,” Diarmud said as he turned and walked lithely over to his beside table. “I come prepared,” he added over his shoulder, producing lube and a box of condoms from inside of it.
“Thank you God,” Garreth said fervently, making him laugh as he returned with the much-needed supplies. He handed both to the big man, then gave him a deductive look and spread his slim body out on the bed. “Let’s go, big boy,” he purred. “Come on.”
Oh, he was ready to ‘come on’, all right. On Diarmud, that is, unless he could get into the man very soon. Garreth fumbled with the box of condoms, his fingers shaking. He tore one open and rolled it onto his rigid cock, which was twitching and dark red by now. Then he opened the lube and spread it onto his fingers, half-kneeling on the bed so that he could reach between the writer’s spread legs and shove a slick finger into him.
They both moaned, Diarmud at the feel and Garreth in wonder at how tight the other man was. He sawed the finer in-and-out, and Diarmud lifted his hips to meet each movement. “Ah, so good,” he crooned. “Harder, Garreth, faster!”
Oh, was he happy to comply. And he also added another finger, twisting them sharply to make Diarmud cry out for him. He lowered his head to kiss the writer’s slender legs reverently as he continued to finger Diarmud in preparation. The little sounds that the writer was making were causing his head to feel like it was going to explode. He had three fingers buried in hot tightness now, and Diarmud was lifting his hips and moaning almost continuously. Neither of them was going to last much longer.
“Fuck me now!” Diarmud screamed, and Garreth pulled his fingers free. His slicked-up, condom-covered cock took their place, and he positioned himself between Diarmud’s legs as he pushed. The writer made a choked sound as the head of his dick broke through, and he paused briefly as he grabbed a hold of Diarmud’s legs and set the writer’s feet on his shoulders.
Diarmud was panting. “You okay?” Garreth asked him anxiously.
“Yes,” Diarmud grunted. “You’re just…kind of big. Let me get used to you…”
Garreth waited patiently, although this wasn’t easy. At all. He felt like his nuts were going to blow at any moment, that he’d spew his load prematurely into Diarmud’s body. He gritted his teeth and hung on by a thread. When Diarmud finally gasped: "Move now, Garreth,” he was more than happy to. With a great sigh of relief and pleasure, he pushed himself into the writer’s body in one smooth stroke and began to thrust.
Diarmud cried out as Garreth began to fuck him with long, slow, powerful strokes. It felt so good! His back arched as he met each thrust, and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as pleasure overwhelmed him. That big thing inside of him was rubbing over his inner walls, and hitting his prostate as it went by each time. His own cock was rock hard, even though he wasn’t feeling coordinated enough to touch it himself. It leaked onto his stomach in a stream as Garreth continued to plow him. “And when he screamed: “Faster!” and the big man gave him what he asked for, Diarmud was sure that he was going to die. But if there was ever a better way to go than this, he didn’t know what that would be!
Garth rode Diarmud’s trembling body as hard as he could, swooping down between the writer’s legs and setting his hands on either side of Diarmud’s body so that he could kiss the other man as he continued to fuck him relentlessly. Diarmud made sounds into his mouth that turned him on even more, and he could feel the writer’s cock rubbing over his stomach as he moved. This was too much for both of them – Diarmud gave forth a high, keening cry into his mouth, and convulsed as his cock spewed forth his semen in long streaks all over Garreth’s belly. And the big man was finding his own end, completely done in by the hot, tight, squeezing place that his dick was buried in. He made a sound like a bull elephant in mating season as he pushed in very hard and stopped, his body going rigid as he shot his own load inside the condom.
They both stayed very still, panting, as they recovered from that intense experience. Diarmud’s eyes opened, and he looked up into Garreth’s face. The big man was breathing heavy, his chest heaving as he tried to take in enough oxygen. He was covered in sweat, a magnificent naked animal. Diarmud admired him for a bit, not wanting to move or for Garreth to pull it. It felt good to have his softening cock still buried inside of him. He lifted a hand finally and ran it through Garreth’s sweaty hair. The big man’s eyes opened and met his. A slow, lazy smile spread over his mouth. “That was great, Diarmud,” he croaked.
“Yes, it was. And now we can go and take a shower, after which we’ll get all dirty again,” Diarmud replied. “What do you think?”
“Sounds great to me,” Garreth replied, pulling out of him slowly. He tore off the condom and discarded it in the wastebasket, near the bed. Then he turned, and to Diarmud’s surprise, he scooped the naked writer up in his arms and began to carry him toward the bathroom.
“You don’t have to carry me, I can walk,” he protested.
“I know you can. I’ve just always wanted to do this,” Garreth explained.
Diarmud chuckled as Garreth carried him into the bathroom. “You are a total, sappy romantic, you know that?” he asked with a smile.
“Yeah, I know. Are you complaining?” Garreth said as he carried Diarmud over to the bathtub and set him down next to it on his still somewhat shaky legs.
The writer shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I’m not.”
~ * ~
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