Hello all!
As I said before, I went to Myrtle Beach and did some writing. I should've been working on my most current Ice Era Chronicle... but it was cold and rainy. That is my favorite weather for gay romance and hot man-on-man sex...
Anyway, I want to thank you all who are here reading this little side story of my Ice Era Chronicles. It's nice to share it with someone who gets me.
Be well, my friends!
Cheers,
~M. From C.M. Moore
*Chapter 13*
(Clay)
According to the camera placement, if Clay walked on this side of the trainer's hall, he wouldn't be caught by anyone monitoring the area.
To be on the safe side, Clay held up a five-stack of towels to block his profile as he strode purposely toward Brice's room. Butch always said that if he acted as if he belonged, he would get fewer questions.
After chow, Clay had grabbed the towels from a lady at Custodial Services and headed to Brice's floor. He planned that if anyone asked what he was doing, Clay would say he was dropping the bath towels off at one of the trainers' rooms. He would also add that he was earnestly looking for grid squares. The first task sounded plausible, and the second like the trainers were screwing with the newbie.
The hall was empty, and Clay grinned. He got to the end of the walkway and reached Brice's door. From the quarters, music played. The thumping sounded like a lively jazz band had set up in Brice's living room.
Slipping Abdul's twenty-six-piece lock picking kit out from between the folds, Clay used the set to unbolt the door. Freeing the latch didn't take long. Quietly, Clay snuck into the instructor's room.
Silently and with precision, Clay closed the door behind him and locked the bolt again. He turned around expecting to face an angry Brice. The area was empty. The music blasted the sofa, but his grader wasn't on his couch. Just as Clay wondered if he'd missed the instructor, the faint sound of the water in the bathroom melded with a clarinet solo.
Setting the towels on Brice's kitchen table, Clay strode across the room while tucking the pick set in his cargo pocket. On the mattress, the blankets had been arranged neatly. All the pillows were in a row by the headboard. He pulled his lubricant out of his other cargo pocket and placed the bottle on the dresser. He would sleep in this bed again, but first, he would do naughtier things between those silky sheets.
Yanking off his shirt, Clay stashed the garment. He wanted his clothes where he could easily reach them if he had to dress in a hurry. After toeing off his boots and socks, he hid those items with his shirt. Once his pants and underwear were folded, Clay drew back the covers.
The music came to an end as he climbed into the center of the softness. Groaning, Clay snuggled into a plump pillow. Closing his eyes, he made up his mind he was never leaving.
The click of a gun had him looking over his shoulder at the bathroom entrance.
Brice's hair dripped down his neck. A white towel hung on his hips. The grader was glaring. As far as Clay was concerned, Brice could scowl all he wanted as long he was shirtless, and Clay could enjoy his cut pecs and sexy abs. The handgun clutched in the instructor's palm made Clay's eyebrows rise.
"Do you normally shower with a gun? I can get used to it."
"When you're sneaking into someone's home, don't groan." Brice slipped the magazine out of the weapon. Shaking his head at the towels, Brice walked toward his kitchen and set the pistol and ammo on his table. "You need to be silent. Like a ninja. I thought you were an intruder."
"I am an intruder. A naked one." Clay laughed. "But thank you for the lesson, Instructor Brice. When I sneak into your bed tomorrow, I'll do it silently." Even though Clay said that as a joke, he meant every word. Tomorrow, Clay would be in this bed and every day until he died.
"I'm not a shell." Brice flipped a switch on his music player, and a softer instrumental began. "I can't keep up this fight." After Brice muttered that sentence, he walked to the dresser. He picked up the lube and then scanned Clay, still belly down, hugging his pillows. "I'm a man."
"I know you're a man." Clay's brow wrinkled. "I had your man parts in my mouth."
"You get an A on your memory." Sighing, Brice set down the bottle before he turned to face Clay. "Are you naked? Not even underwear?"
"Everything is under the bed. It's in position if I have to make a quick exit." Clay licked his lips. "I'm here for you to fuck me."
"I don't have enough discipline for this," Brice whispered. The look Brice gave Clay didn't scream get-out-of-my-bed or get-out-of-my-life. The gleam in his dark-brown eyes was pure want. This time Clay was positive he wasn't going to get a lecture or the word over. Brice was about to cave.
"Does that mean you're getting naked too?"
"Naked." Brice unknotted the towel from his waist and dropped the cloth to the floor. "We'll start there."
Clay's jaw dropped. That was easier than he anticipated, but he wasn't going to jinx it by saying that out loud. The grader was already up to screw. His cock pointed forward, thick and drooling. Now that the towel hit the carpet, Clay drank in the sight of all Brice's exposed scarred skin available to touch.
Smoothing back his damp hair, Brice picked up the blankets and tossed them to the side. The action exposed Clay. He rolled to the middle of the bed, both shocked and elated. He didn't think Brice would yield, but he thanked his lucky stars that the man did.
"I ah..." Pausing, Clay didn't know what to do now. "I want..." He stared up at Brice, feeling overwhelmed, slightly nervous, and swamped with sexual desire. He wanted Brice to do this bossy-teacher-thing and tell him the plan. His dick pointed toward the other man as if begging to be in his mouth.
"You want me?" Brice asked.
"I wasn't going to say that, but yeah."
