With This Ring

A Story Orgy Single

Hank Edwards

Startled Monkeys Media

Contents

Summary

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Also by Hank Edwards

Summary

The Ritz Carlton Hotel, Central Park, is one of the most elegant and romantic hotels in the world, even for its employees. When Carl, a seasoned member of the maintenance team, meets Dylan, a younger bellboy, their attraction is undeniable.

Carl and Dylan meet in rooms recently vacated by guests and slowly forge a relationship. After Dylan tells Carl he has always dreamed of spending a night in the hotel as a guest, Carl becomes determined to find some way to make Dylan's dream come true.

Copyright

With This Ring by Hank Edwards

Copyright © 2013 by Hank Edwards

Cover art by Startled Monkeys Media

All Rights Reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Published in the United States of America.

With This Ring is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This story is dedicated to the lovely and generous Denise Vega who provided the prompt words, bellboy, Ritz Carlton hotel, and cock ring. A perfect trio, if you ask me!

1

Carl Brickerton had been riding the same bus for enough years he could count every stop between where he boarded and where he needed to get off without paying attention. Because of this, he was able to catch a few more minutes of sleep during the ride, his subconscious tuned into the number of stops as well as the smells and sounds pushing through the doors when they opened. The last few weeks, however, he had been too keyed up to be able to doze.

He shifted in the seat and watched the city roll past. Taxis crowded the streets and people swarmed the sidewalks. Some of them hailed cabs, others hustled between bus and subway stops, while a majority sipped from giant take-away cups of over-priced coffee as they forged their way uptown, like cement-bound salmon.

Another shift in his seat earned him a nervous glance from the small-boned woman beside him. Carl gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile as his mind raced ahead of the bus to the moment he would swipe his badge at the employee entrance of the Ritz Carlton Hotel, Central Park. He was excited to get to work every day the last few weeks, ever since Dylan Tanner had started working at the hotel.

Six more stops to go and Carl let his mind drift. He thought back on the first time he had seen Dylan in the employee locker room of the hotel. Dylan was younger than Carl by at least fifteen years: pale, blond, and handsome with round cheeks, blue eyes, and full lips quick to turn up in a smile. Carl had been introduced in passing as Dylan’s mentor, Rodrigo, had been leading him out the door to his first day on the job as a bellboy.

All that day, Carl had hoped for another glimpse of Dylan as he had gone about his job on the building maintenance team, but the new bellboy had proved elusive. One time Carl had thought he had heard Dylan’s name being called around a corner, but when he had hurried up and rounded it, his hopes had been dashed as a set of elevator doors thumped shut.

The bus hissed to a halt at his stop and Carl excused himself past his nervous, small-boned seatmate to file out the door with the rest of the disembarking riders. His feet hit the sidewalk and he slid into the current of people until he came to a stop in front of the Ritz Carlton. People of all ethnicities, gender, height, weight, style of dress, and occupation flowed around him as he stood on the sidewalk and looked up the face of the building he knew better than the outside of his own apartment building. Who wanted to stand in front and stare at a five-story walk-up built of pale brick stained from years of car and bus exhaust?

His gaze slid up the brick and sandstone edifice, touching on clean windows throwing back the morning sunlight, proceeding straight up to the tall, splendid tower. It looked good and clean and welcoming, as it always did, and Carl felt a quiet sense of pride at being one member of the large team that kept the hotel in shape. Every room was comfortable and plush, with private residences for the very well off, as well as a world-class spa, restaurants, and bar. It was a jewel set among the concrete of New York City across the street from the emerald fields of Central Park. Satisfied with the building, Carl turned to look over the roofs of cabs and cars at the great, green expanse of the park, watching joggers and walkers hurry along the paths as the trees weaved in a gentle spring wind.

With a deep breath of air laced with exhaust and a variety of foods cooking even at this early hour, Carl turned back to nod and smile at the doorman. Fortified and ready for work, he made his way around back to the employee entrance.

The employee locker room was buzzing with the muted conversation of the bellboys, butlers, cooks, and other maintenance men as they changed into their uniforms. Carl slipped off his lightweight jacket, casting his gaze around the crowded room, desperate for a glimpse of Dylan. Just when he had begun to think Dylan had already changed and left the room, Carl saw him stand up from where he had been seated on the bench in front of his locker, hidden from view by a group of butlers discussing a new tenant in one of the apartments.

Carl’s breath stopped in his chest at the sight of the man. Dylan’s blond hair had been cut the night before, the lucky stylist who had been allowed to run fingers through the fine, silky strands had done an excellent job making him look youthful and professional. Dylan’s blue eyes connected with Carl’s brown and held the look a moment before darting away to look down at his shirt and focus on getting the buttons just right.

With a silent reprimand to himself to stop staring, Carl returned his attention to dressing himself. He shrugged out of his shirt, exposing his torso barely covered by the tight white tank top T-shirt. A few months ago he had bought a weight set at a garage sale for thirty dollars and spent almost two hours climbing up and down the three flights of stairs, lugging up a few pieces at a time to his two-room apartment. Since then, every night after getting off work, Carl returned to his apartment in Queens and worked out for at least an hour, and his dedication was starting to show: his shoulders had broadened, and his arms filled out round and firm with muscle, showing off his two tattoos even better.

“Nice ink.”

Carl turned to look over his shoulder as he slid his arms into his uniform shirt, catching a glimpse of Dylan’s eyes as the man walked past, a small smile on those full, soft lips.

“Hey, thanks,” Carl called after him. He opened his mouth to offer the explanation that he had designed them himself, but Dylan was already out the door.

Still, the compliment buoyed him and, with a grin on his face, Carl finished changing into his uniform. He was still grinning when he stepped out the door into the back hallway of the hotel to begin his rounds.

2

Dylan Tanner tried taking shallow breaths, but it wasn’t helping. The elevator, cramped in the first place, felt like it was shrinking with every passing second.

“It’s a lovely hotel.” The woman smiled up at him, showing lipstick-smeared teeth. Her tightly curled, light purple hair glowed beneath the elevator lights, and her perfume seemed to pound into his sinuses.

Mustering all his energy, Dylan smiled back. “It is a beautiful space. I’m certain you’ll be very happy with your room.”

She waggled her penciled eyebrows at him and smiled again. To keep himself from laughing in her face, Dylan turned away and pretended to check that her bags were evenly stowed on the cart. The soft bell announced their arrival at her floor and Dylan waved for the woman to step off first then practically shoved the luggage cart out the door behind her, taking a deep breath of the clear air.

Inside the room, he unloaded her bags and made sure she was comfortable before pushing the luggage cart into the hall and letting the door close behind him. A twenty-dollar tip lay snug in his pocket and Dylan pushed the luggage cart to the elevator where he waited for it to arrive. When the doors parted he found another bellboy inside and the heavy scent of the woman’s perfume rushed out at him.

“Hey, I forgot to tell the guest something about her room,” Dylan said and pushed the cart into the elevator car. “Take this downstairs for me, will you?”

The boy shrugged and the doors slid shut on his bored expression. Dylan turned and strolled down the hall, away from the woman’s room toward the stairs. He pushed into the stairwell and clomped toward the first floor.

As he descended the steps, Dylan thought about Carl, the hot daddy bear maintenance man he had caught staring at him a few times. Carl was just his type: masculine with thinning dark hair, dark hair on his chest, and tattoos. He was quiet but attentive, and Dylan had caught Carl shaking his head a few times when Rodrigo had been talking shit in the locker room.

Rodrigo: what a joke of a mentor. He had pretty much ignored Dylan most of the day, except when he was ordering Dylan to lift the heavier pieces of luggage and not giving him a share of their tips. At one point, Rodrigo had even gone so far as trying to lose him in the labyrinth of back hallways, and, finally, Dylan had struck off on his own. He was a bellboy, how hard could it be? He lifted the luggage onto the cart, pushed the cart into the elevator, and took the guests to their rooms.

Today he had been on his feet the entire shift so far, seven hours, and decided he could use a small break. At the landing between the ninth and eighth floors, Dylan sat on the cool concrete. He rested his wrists on his knees and let his hands droop as he closed his eyes and listened to the quiet echoes of the sounds of the hotel. Doors slammed on floors above and below him; murmuring voices, like souls who had lost their way, floated to him; a burst of laughter, bright and uplifting despite the muting of concrete walls.

He was working in the Ritz Carlton, Central Park, the most beautiful hotel in the city. Back when he was little, his mother had walked him past this hotel every day on her way to drop him off at his aunt’s while she went to work. They would pause for a moment on the sidewalk across the street, right by the statue of Jose Julian Marti, the Cuban freedom fighter, and stare up at the hotel.

“We’re going to stay there one day, little one,” she would say.

“Really?” Dylan had said. “For real?”

“For real,” his mother would reply, and then hustle him off down the street.

“You okay?”

The voice startled a gulping gasp out of him and he choked, jumping to his feet as he coughed and his eyes watered. He felt his cheeks burning with shame and the fear of being fired as he turned to face the speaker.

It was Carl, the hot maintenance man, standing halfway up the next flight of steps.

Dylan got the worst of his coughing under control and wiped the tears from his face. “Yeah, I’m just – thinking, you know?”

Carl stepped down onto the landing to stand before him. The man’s dark brown eyes searched his face a moment, Carl’s expression sincere and concerned. The moment stretched out and Dylan shifted his weight then took a step back.

“What?” Dylan asked, hearing the defensive tone to his voice.

Carl blinked and pulled his head back, a look of surprise crossing his face. “What what?”

“You’re staring.”

Dylan was happy to see a blush color Carl’s cheeks and couldn’t help smiling. The man was very attractive, and the blush made him even more so.

Those brown eyes shifted away and Carl shrugged. “Sorry. I was just – I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, did I pass inspection?”

Carl looked up at him with a grin. “Yeah. You passed.”

Their eyes met and Dylan felt a spark of attraction fuse their gazes together. They stared at each other a long moment and, just as it seemed Carl might lean in and kiss him, a stairwell door opened above them and two people started down toward them.

“Come with me,” Carl said and walked down half a flight to the seventh floor door through which he disappeared.

Dylan didn’t hesitate; he followed Carl out of the stairwell and into the hall. The maintenance man walked quickly down the hall, a small toolbox Dylan hadn’t noticed before gripped tight in one hand, tan slacks complimenting the high, rounded curve of his ass.

Carl glanced over his shoulder, caught Dylan checking out his ass, and grinned. “If you still need a minute to think, follow me.”

After rounding a corner, Carl came to a stop in front of a guest suite, number 746. He produced an electronic pass key, most likely the master that would open every room door in the building, swiped it through the lock, and pushed into the room.

Dylan hesitated, watching the door slowly swing shut as Carl strode down the entrance hall of the suite. What was Carl expecting from Dylan if he followed him? And what if the guest who was staying in it came back? If they were caught, he would lose his job, and the Ritz Carlton was where he had always dreamed of working.

Just before the door clicked shut, Dylan reached out and stopped it. He took a breath, eased the door open and, with a last look up and down the hall, stepped inside.

3

Carl’s stomach felt tangled in knots and his heart pounded hard as he entered the guest suite. It was empty, as he had known, the guest having checked out at noon. The room was on the schedule to be cleaned in an hour for the next occupant, but until that time, Carl was going to make use of it, as he liked to do once in a while. And if the maid came early, he would tell her he was fixing a lamp or an outlet.

What was he going to do, now that he had Dylan alone?

He stood at the window and stared out over the great, green expanse of Central Park. A telescope perched on its tripod on a table off to the side of two comfortable chairs, and a book of birds lay on another small table between them. Carl set his toolbox on top of the bird book and fixed his gaze on the park, not trusting himself to turn and look at Dylan just yet.

“So, um,” Dylan said, and from the sound of his voice, the young man stood all the way across the room near the door. “What is it exactly we’re doing in here? Isn’t someone staying here?”

With a steadying breath, Carl turned and smiled at Dylan. “Not any more. They checked out at noon, and the room isn’t scheduled to be cleaned for an hour.”

Dylan’s face relaxed and he stepped further into the room, looking around at the duvet left in a mound on the foot of the feather mattress and the exposed rumpled sheets.

“Looks like a nice bed.” Dylan’s voice broke on the word bed, and he slid a nervous glance Carl’s way before turning to peer into the bathroom. A low whistle conveyed his amazement at the luxury before him.

Carl frowned and stepped toward him. “Didn’t Rodrigo go through the room fixtures with you?”

Dylan looked over his shoulder at him and Carl’s knees went weak at the clear blue color of his eyes and the narrow white strip of tooth visible as Dylan bit his lower lip. A slow shake of his head let Carl know Rodrigo had left Dylan out in the cold, probably hoping to get him fired for whatever bullshit reason made sense to him that day.

Carl checked his watch, noted the time, and slid past Dylan into the marble and gold-plated bathroom, very much aware of the heat coming off Dylan’s body. He wanted to help Dylan, first and foremost, so anything physical he hoped to have happen would have to wait. He looked around the marble counter strewn with puddles, the over-sized tub and separate, glass enclosed walk-in shower.

“Not sure where to start?” Dylan asked with a grin that made Carl lose focus for a moment.

“Something like that.” Carl stood in the middle of the bathroom, locked his gaze with Dylan’s, and started to explain each accessory in room.

Just over an hour later, as Carl was finishing his explanation, they heard the door open. Dylan had been kneeling beside him near the tub, listening as Carl explained the faucets and the various lotions and oils. At the sound of the maid’s entrance, Dylan jumped to his feet and threw a panicked look at the door.

The maid, an older Puerto Rican woman named Carmen, jumped at the sight of them in the bathroom. She started to apologize as if they were guests, then her eyes narrowed as she noticed their uniforms and, finally, on recognizing Carl himself, threw her hands in the air.

“Carl! You took seven years off my life!”

Carl pushed to his feet and grinned at her. “Careful, Carmen, you don’t have that many years left.”

“Oh, you,” Carmen said and swiped at him. “You’re a bad man.” She looked from Dylan back to Carl and asked with a grin, “What are you doing in here, hmm?”

Carl shook his head and waved toward Dylan, forcing himself not to look at the man because he knew the expression in his eyes would give him away. “I was coming here to fix a short in the lamp and heard Dylan’s poor review of another room’s amenities to a guest. So I dragged him in here with me and trained him on the finer points of the suite’s bathrooms.”

“You trained him?” She glanced at Dylan. “What about his mentor?”

Leaning in closer, Carl said in a low voice, “Rodrigo.”

Understanding dawned and Carmen nodded slowly. “Ah, dios mio. That boy will amount to nothing but trouble. Mark my words.”

“Every day I mark your words, Carmen,” Carl assured her. “Every day.”

“Okay, so, you done now?” Carmen asked. “I have to clean.”

Carl nodded as he stepped out of the bathroom and retrieved his toolbox from the table by the window. “We’re done. The room is yours to enjoy.”

A snorted laugh followed them into the hall and, as they slipped past Carmen’s maid cart outside the door, heard her mumbling something about the enjoyment she’d get from a room filled with more tips and less dirty sheets and towels.

“Hey, thanks for showing me all that back there,” Dylan said as he followed Carl into the stairwell.

Carl waved off his gratitude, but held the words inside his chest like a precious stone. “No problem. I remember what it was like to be new here.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Long enough to know better than to talk to new hires about it.” Carl stopped at the door for the fourth floor and smiled at Dylan. “You’d better get yourself back downstairs or Rodrigo will turn you into Delilah, the lobby manager.”

Dylan nodded and turned for the stairs. He stopped and turned back, looked about to say something, but finally settled for a simple nod before he raised his hand in farewell and descended the steps.

Carl watched him go, feeling the shift and swell of his erection as the time spent with Dylan settled fully on him. He waited even after Dylan was out of sight, listening to the sound of the man’s feet on the steps growing fainter. Finally, when Dylan was out of sight and earshot, Carl pulled open the door to the fourth floor and stepped into the hall, heading for another room and an air conditioning unit on the fritz.

4

Each day after that, Dylan searched out Carl to exchange greetings and ask the man questions about the hotel he had thought of since the last time they talked. Sometimes, Dylan had to admit to himself that what he really wanted was to look in Carl’s dark brown eyes. More and more often, each night in his narrow single bed tucked away in the afterthought of a bedroom in his mother’s apartment, Dylan would imagine Carl naked and sweating atop him. As he feverishly stroked himself to a quiet climax, Dylan fantasized about Carl staring down at him, dark brown eyes intense as he eased into Dylan’s tight ass, taking care to go slow because Carl knew it would be Dylan’s first time. Afterwards, when he had cleaned up, Dylan would hug his sweat damp pillow to his chest and drift off to sleep.

A few weeks after Carl had first tutored him on the finer points of the room bathrooms, the man surprised Dylan by asking for his cell phone number.

“You want to call me?” Dylan asked with a grin.

“Better yet,” Carl replied with a grin of his own. “I want to text you.”

Dylan told him the number, but then had to rush away as the bell at the reception desk rang. He smiled and exchanged pleasantries with the two women checking in as he rolled their baggage cart into the elevator, rode up several floors, and then pushed it down the hall and into their room. But even as he talked about the hotel and the surrounding area, Dylan heard Carl in the back of his mind asking for his cell phone number and was very aware of his cell phone waiting silently in his back pocket.

Three hours later, just as Dylan had decided Carl had gotten cold feet about texting him, his phone buzzed once, signaling a text message. He excused himself from the group of bellboys he had been talking with and stepped into a lobby alcove to read the message.

Come to room 953.

A quiver of excitement ran through him. He hesitated, wondering how far this mild flirting was going to go, and if it might end up costing him his job. But the thought of Carl’s lips, the depths of his brown eyes, the calm that radiated off him, so different from the men Dylan’s own age he met at the clubs. There was something peaceful and protective about Carl that drew Dylan in, made him feel accepted and respected.

“Tanner!”

Dylan jumped and leaned forward to peer around the wall of the alcove. Delilah, the lobby manager, stood in the middle of the Oriental rug, hands on hips, head swiveling as she looked around for him.

Dylan slipped the phone into his pocket and stepped from the alcove. “I’m here.”

Delilah snapped her head around to give him a momentary look, assessing whether or not he was loafing off. Finally, she gave a curt nod and said, “Half hour lunch. Take off.”

Dylan nodded back and turned toward the back hallway. Taking his lunch break as a sign from the universe he was meant to meet up with Carl, Dylan darted into the back stairwell and texted back to Carl as he climbed to the ninth floor: BRT.

5

Carl frowned at the response. BRT? What the hell did that mean?

A wave of uncertainty swept through him, a self-doubting high tide that swamped his excitement and left him nervous. What was he thinking trying to get involved with a man so much younger than himself? He could never keep up with other men Dylan’s age, younger and more tech savvy than him. As far as they were concerned, Carl was a relic, one of the old guys at the gay bars on the occasion when he allowed himself to go to the bars. He knew the type, the older men who prowled the outskirts of the flocks of young men waiting for a chicken to split off from the herd to corner and proposition him.

What do you have to offer him he can’t get from anyone else?

The thought made Carl slightly nauseous and he sat on the edge of the unmade bed to put his head in his hands. This had been a bad idea.

A soft knock at the door made him jump. For a moment, he considered not answering. He could tell Dylan later that he had been called away to a room emergency and not had time to text him a note of explanation.

But Dylan was a good man and deserved better than that, so Carl pushed to his feet and was across the room and opening the door before he could second-guess himself again.

Dylan stepped through the door slightly out of breath. Before the door had even thumped shut, Dylan moved toward him, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Carl felt the caress of breath on his face, smelled the acidic energy drink Dylan liked to drink around 10:15 a.m. for a boost, felt the warmth of his body heat soak into him.

With the spark of touch of Dylan’s lips to his, Carl’s doubts fled. All he knew, all he could feel, was the tingle of contact with Dylan’s full lips, as soft as Carl had imagined. Dylan leaned into him, pressing his body against Carl’s and pinning him against the wall. Carl put his arms around Dylan, pulled him even closer.

The tentative flicker of Dylan’s tongue across Carl’s lips invited him to part his lips. As he received Dylan’s questing tongue, Carl tightened his grip, feeling Dylan’s back muscles clench beneath his fingers. Carl’s cock throbbed in the cage of his underwear, eager to be set free and touched by another hand.

Carl reluctantly broke their kiss but maintained his grip on Dylan to keep him close. He looked down into Dylan’s wide, blue eyes and asked, “What does BRT mean?”

Dylan chuckled and gave him a quick kiss. “Be right there.”

Carl rolled his eyes and nodded. “Of course. Sorry, I’m not very smart around mobile phones.”

“You don’t have to be.”

Carl kissed him again. “Would you like to move to the bed?”

Dylan smiled shyly and nodded and Carl released him to push off the wall. He took Dylan’s hand and led him into the room to the unmade bed. Turning to face him, Carl put his hands on either side of Dylan’s face and looked into his eyes.

“I know it’s not very romantic, squatting in a used room, but it’s the best I can do.”

Dylan turned his face to kiss Carl’s palm. “It’s perfect.”

They kissed again, tongues twining as they fumbled with each other’s buttons. Carl slid Dylan’s jacket from his shoulders and started on his shirt buttons, pausing to allow Dylan to slide his own shirt from his shoulders.

“I like this T-shirt,” Dylan muttered between kisses, running his hands up Carl’s bare arms and then down along the smooth cotton tank top covering his chest and belly.

Carl finally opened the last button and the shirt parted to reveal Dylan’s smooth, toned torso. His skin was pale and warm, nipples brown and the size of nickels that hardened under the caress of Carl’s thumbs.

“You’re beautiful,” Carl whispered.

Dylan kissed him again, harder this time, hungrier, his fingers tugging the tail of Carl’s T-shirt out of his pants and pulling it up and over Carl’s head. Once Carl’s chest was exposed, Dylan ducked his head to nip and lick at the swollen nubs of Carl’s nipples. Every touch of Dylan’s lips, tongue, and fingers seemed to leave a heated mark on Carl’s body, as if the man were leaving a trail to find his way back.

“I don’t have much time,” Dylan said, kissing lower along Carl’s torso. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long.”

Carl slid a hand beneath the collar of the shirt Dylan still wore to rub the warm, smooth skin stretched tight over Dylan’s spine. “I have, too.”

Dropping to his knees, Dylan gasped and pulled away to look down at the floor. “What the hell?”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Dylan picked something up from the floor beside the bed and held it so Carl could see, grinning up at him as he did it. The light coming in the window reflected off the smooth surface of a thick metal ring.

“What is that?” Carl asked.

“You don’t know?”

He shrugged and blushed. Should he know? Was this going to prove to Dylan he was out of touch and would make a poor lover? “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“It’s a cock ring,” Dylan explained, turning it in his hand as he inspected it. “Guys wear them to make their boners last longer.”

“Oh, I never knew that.” Carl made a face. “It’s probably been used.”

To Carl’s disappointment, Dylan got to his feet and walked into the bathroom, saying over his shoulder. “Yeah, probably. I’ll wash it off.”

As he listened to the water run in the bathroom, Carl decided to take the next step. He kicked off his shoes, opened his pants and let them drop to the floor where he stepped out of them. He now wore only his socks and boxer shorts.

The water shut off and Dylan came back into the room, stopping at the sight of Carl reclined on the bed propped up on his elbows, his intentions obvious by the tenting of his boxers.

“Wow,” Dylan whispered. “You’re gorgeous.”

Carl blushed and looked down at himself, taking in the body he had been working on so hard. He followed the dark hair on his chest that ran down over his belly button to where it vanished beneath the waistband of his boxers.

“I’ve been trying to get back into shape.”

Dylan nodded. “I can see that.” He shrugged out of his shirt and fumbled with his pants as he kicked off his shoes. His pants hit the floor and he stood awkwardly before Carl in a pair of red briefs and dark socks. His pale skin practically glowed in the light from the window and Carl’s cock pulsed eagerly as he ran his gaze down the smooth, muscular length of Dylan’s body to the tuft of blond hair that sprouted around his belly button and dove beneath his briefs.

“Come here,” Carl said, his voice deep and lustful.

Dylan set the cock ring on the nightstand and stretched out on top of him. His body was warm and smooth, his kiss eager, and the full length of Dylan’s cock ground against Carl’s.

Forgetting about the used sheets beneath them, they rolled back and forth across the soft mattress, briefs and boxers eventually discarded to reveal their cocks, solid columns of desire. Carl was just a bit longer than Dylan, his uncut cock straining up along his belly, a trickle of pre cum leaving a trail in his hair and on his skin.

Dylan first wrapped his fingers around Carl’s shaft, slowly stroking as they kissed, then shifted to run his tongue along the length. Carl lay back and groaned as Dylan’s tongue traveled up and down, pausing to tease the slippery cap peeking out from beneath his foreskin.

“I’ve never seen an uncut one before,” Dylan said, turning his head to admire Carl’s cock. “I like it.”

“It seems to like you back.”

Dylan smiled and pulled the foreskin down to expose the glistening cap, then pursed his lips around it. Carl closed his eyes and lay back on the soft cotton sheet as Dylan slowly eased his lips further down the shaft an inch at a time. Carl’s hands tightened, gathering fistfuls of the sheet as Dylan sucked him faster.

Carl enjoyed the attention for a few minutes then raised his head and said, “I want to suck you, too.”

Keeping Carl’s cock in his mouth, Dylan shifted his body to straddle Carl’s face. Carl took Dylan’s dick into his mouth and the salty taste of sweat exploded across his tongue as the musk of Dylan’s balls pushed into his nostrils. He took the full length down his throat and worked his muscles around it.

Dylan moaned encouragement as he sucked Carl faster, his fingers tightening around the shaft. Carl felt himself getting close, very close, and reached up on either side of Dylan’s hips to grab the firm, round swells of his ass and squeeze. That touch was all it took, Dylan huffed a breath around his mouthful of Carl’s cock and his body tensed. Seconds later, Carl felt the hot slick of semen coat his throat and swallowed it down.

The taste of Dylan’s spunk tipped Carl over the edge and he shot his load in the younger man’s mouth. Dylan stroked and sucked, losing only a small amount of cum that seeped down the side of Carl’s cock.

With a final, gentle kiss to the tip, Dylan released Carl’s cock and turned around to lie across his chest. Carl placed a kiss on the top of Dylan’s head, savoring the silky touch of his hair against his lips.

A moment of peaceful silence passed during which they caught their breath, and then Dylan sat bolt upright and looked around, his eyes wide.

“What time is it?”

Carl raised his arm and looked at his watch. “12:15.”

“Shit, I’m going to be late getting back from lunch.” He slipped off the bed and began to dress.

Carl rolled onto his side, hand supporting his head as he watched Dylan dress. “Gargle with mouthwash from the bathroom before you leave.”

Dylan leaned in to kiss him quickly on the mouth. “Good idea.” He kissed him again. “I had fun.” He turned to go then turned back and picked up the cock ring, slipping it into his pants pocket. “I’m keeping this for future use.”

“You can teach me how to use it.” Carl laid back and listened to Dylan gargle with the hotel mouthwash and a moment later the door opened and swung shut and he was alone once again. But this time, the aftertaste of his love’s essence lay in the back of his throat like an omen of good things to come.

6

They met several more times in rooms recently vacated by guests, timing their visits perfectly so they left before the housekeeper arrived. Most times they had oral sex, but several occasions they spent the time talking, sitting propped up on the comfortable bed, arms around each other. Dylan was glad Carl liked to touch. He enjoyed the soft stroke of Carl’s fingers, the way Carl smoothed down his hair or gently squeezed his arms and shoulders. He felt more comfortable with Carl than anyone else he knew, and he realized he had started to fall in love with the man.

The realization didn’t frighten him, quite the opposite. He was anxious to see Carl every day at work, and when their schedules allowed it, spend time with him outside of the hotel exploring the city. Dylan loved to listen to Carl talk about his life, the man’s smooth, deep voice flowing over him like warm water, making him feel safe and loved and important.

And yet, the one thing Dylan held back was his virginity. He finally came out and told Carl he was a virgin and that the thought of anal sex frightened him a little.

“It just seems so impossible,” Dylan admitted. “It’s such a small, tight hole, how the hell would your big log of a cock fit inside me without doing a crazy amount of damage?”

Carl kissed him and smiled. “Because I’d be gentle and take my time. But only when you’re ready.”

And so they had oral sex, or masturbated each other, or masturbated for each other, or tea-bagged each other, but they did not have anal sex. Sometimes Dylan wore the cock ring all day, just waiting for Carl’s text with the room number. When they were parting after the visit, he passed the cock ring to Carl and would find him wearing just that the next time they were able to get together.

Finally, Dylan decided to try to have anal sex with Carl. He loved the man, there was no doubt about it, and he really wanted Carl to be the first man who penetrated him.

He decided that the next time they spent time together outside of work, he would be ready. It was time.

7

Over the last few years, Carl had created a strict budget for himself, eating small meals and walking wherever possible to save bus and subway fare. He had had his eye on a big screen TV from the appliance shop down the street, something to replace the 19” hand-me-down model he currently owned. He wanted a TV that would make him feel like he was watching the Yankees right from the dugout.

But that had been before he’d met Dylan.

Now he realized he could live without a TV as large as an entire wall in his crappy apartment. He never watched TV that much, anyway, and if he really wanted to go see a game he could jump on the subway and pay for bleacher seats, or better yet go to the sports bar a few blocks down and watch it on their big screen TV. No, he didn’t need a monster TV taking up more space in his tiny apartment.

He needed Dylan. And he wanted Dylan to be happy.

Carl decided it was time to admit his true feelings to Dylan; he had to tell him he was in love with him. But the evening had to be very special, and Carl had worried over it for more than a week before he recalled a conversation they had had a few days before in one of the Park View suites. It had been one of the times they had simply sat and talked, only Dylan had wanted to sit by the windows and look down on the park.

“When I was little, my mother and I used to walk by here every day,” Dylan had told him. “And each time we would stop right there by that statue of Jose Julian Marti and stare across the street at this hotel and she would tell me that some day we would spend a night here.”

“Every day?” Carl had asked.

Dylan had nodded, eyes unfocused as he stared down at the people on the street and thought about the past. “Every day. She was a nurse, well, she still is, and we would walk down this street on the way to my aunt’s apartment where I would spend the evening until she came to pick me up after her shift.”

“Is that why you’re working here?”

Dylan grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, for the most part. It is a gorgeous hotel, and I think I have my Mom to thank for my obsession with working here.”

“Did you ever get to spend the night here?” Carl wondered.

Dylan shook his head. “Nope. Never.”

And now Carl knew just what to do.

8

Dylan checked the work schedule one more time just to make sure he had read it correctly earlier that week. Yep, he had; he was not scheduled for work tomorrow, the first Friday he had had off in a long time, and Carl had it off as well. The day before, Carl had told him to pack a bag and plan to spend tonight away from home, but he wouldn’t tell him where they were going. They hadn’t had a chance to slip away to a vacated room the last two days and Dylan was surprised at how much he missed that time with Carl.

As he changed into his street clothes, Dylan wondered if Carl was finally going to ask him to spend the night in his apartment. They had not yet spent a night together. Both of them slept on single beds, and Dylan still lived with his mother who knew and accepted he was gay, but Dylan didn’t feel right bringing a man home with him. It was, after all, still her home.

He had just finished buttoning his shirt when his cell phone buzzed on his locker shelf. It was a text message from Carl and it made him frown.

1435.

Why was Carl texting a room number? It was time for him to be off work.

Dylan grabbed his overnight bag, punched out at the time clock, and headed down the back hallway. He pushed through the door into the back stairwell and climbed to the third floor where he walked along the thick, quiet carpet to the elevator. He had just changed clothes and was not about to walk up 14 flights of stairs to arrive drenched in sweat and out of breath.

A few minutes later, Dylan stood outside the door for 1435, suddenly nervous. It was past check-in time, and the lobby had been busy all day, so Dylan figured every room had been booked. Also, if he remembered correctly, this floor was made up of Park View Suites and City View Suites, incredibly expensive rooms.

He took a deep, steadying breath, then raised his hand and knocked. A moment later the door opened and Carl stood before him, handsome in a white button down shirt tucked into tan slacks. Carl smiled and waved for him to enter.

“You don’t look out of breath, so I’m assuming you took the elevator?” Carl said.

Dylan stepped past him and gazed around the luxurious room. Comfortable furniture stood perfectly positioned within the large living room, and a telescope on a small tripod stood on a table near the window. It was amazing and overwhelming and all Dylan could do was drop his bag at his feet and stare around him.

Carl came up behind him to put his arms around his waist and rest his chin on Dylan’s shoulder. “Do you like it?”

Dylan was at a loss for words. All he could do was turn to face Carl, kiss him hard on the mouth and hug him close.

“How much did this cost you?” Dylan asked. “You can’t afford this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carl assured him. “I got a pretty good employee discount from Delilah, and I had some money saved for something special.”

Dylan pulled back to look in his eyes. “I can’t believe you did this.”

Carl smiled and kissed him. “You’re going to spend a night at the Ritz Carlton Hotel, Central Park.”

They ate a light dinner that Carl had prepared the night before at his apartment and brought to work with him in a cooler. As they sat at the dining table they caught up on their days working in the building, sharing gossip and humorous or annoying events. After dinner, Dylan used the bathroom, taking his time to run his hand along the smooth marble counters and gold plated faucets. When he returned to the living room, he found the lights turned down and a number of candles flickering around the room. Quiet music played from the CD system and Carl stood in the center of the living room, the path lights from the park outside the window just coming on behind him as he extended his hand toward him.

Dylan had never slow danced with a man before, and he was surprised how easily he adjusted. They turned slowly, the candle flames throwing their shadows up on the ceiling at odd angles. Dylan sighed as he rested his head on Carl’s shoulder, feeling himself truly relax for the first time in months. He didn’t think about money, or interest percentages on his bills, or the fact that he would probably never be able to afford to pay for a higher education. Instead, he thought about Carl and how good it felt to be held by him, to be loved by him and to love him back.

Without breaking their step, Carl dipped his head down and kissed him softly on the lips. A shivery tingle worked its way through Dylan, different than all the other times he and Carl had been together, more important somehow, more meaningful. The entire evening felt different, not just because of the room that Carl had legitimately reserved for them, but the attraction between them seemed deeper, more intense.

The kisses started light and gentle, but soon progressed to firmer, more passionate exchanges. Carl moved his hands down Dylan’s back and cupped his ass cheeks, pulling him tight against the firm length of his body. Dylan felt the hard line of Carl’s cock, so familiar now but just as exciting as the first time he had seen and touched it.

“I want you,” Dylan whispered into Carl’s ear, following the words with a flick of his tongue. “Inside me, tonight.”

Carl looked him in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Carl took Dylan by the hand and, each of them taking a candle and pausing to blow out the rest, led him into the bathroom. They placed the candles on the sides of the tub and Dylan watched Carl start the water. As the tub filled, Carl approached and they kissed some more, slowly undressing each other until both were nude.

When the tub had filled, Carl helped Dylan step in and joined him. The warm water was soothing and steaming, the scent of lavender caressing them from the bath oil Carl had added. Dylan spread his legs to either side of Carl and scooted up close so their cocks stood side-by-side. He kissed Carl hard, tangling his tongue with Carl’s as the man’s finger slowly circled the twitching, puckered ring of Dylan’s hole.

They stayed in the bath for a long time, kissing and stroking, Carl’s finger slipping just past Dylan’s sphincter and sliding out again. Dylan felt his muscles deep inside quiver with anticipation and knew he was definitely ready to take his relationship with Carl to the next level.

When the water had cooled and Dylan’s fingers were pruned, they stepped out of the tub and dried each other off with the biggest, most comfortable towels Dylan had ever touched. He dropped his towel on the floor, took Carl by the hand, and led him into the adjoining bedroom. Dylan switched the bedside lamps on low and turned back to find Carl sliding on the silver cock ring they had found so long ago in that vacated room where they had first had sex. The lamplight gleamed along the smooth surface and Dylan approached to kiss and fondle him.

“I wondered if you would bring that with you,” Dylan said.

“Of course.” Carl lowered himself to his knees and kissed Dylan’s cock before looking up at him. “And I have something for you.”

“More than this room?” Dylan shook his head as Carl placed gentle kisses all along his cock. “You’ve done too much.”

“You deserve it.” Carl slid his hand under the bed and produced a cock ring identical to the one he wore. He grinned up at Dylan as he slid it down along the swollen length of Dylan’s cock, his touch igniting new urges deep inside his belly. “With this ring,” Carl said before placing a final kiss on the tip of his dick.

Dylan laughed as his cheeks warmed with a blush. This night really was like a honeymoon for them both. He reached down to take Carl’s hand and pulled him to his feet. They kissed, their cocks crossing like swords, the matching cock rings glowing in the dim light.

“I love you,” Dylan whispered, surprised at how his throat tightened immediately after he spoke the words, and he had to look away to keep from crying.

Carl leaned down and said in his ear, “I love you, too.”

A kiss took them down together onto the soft bed. Carl shifted position to lie on his side with his head at Dylan’s groin and they sucked each other slowly, enjoying the time they could take in a luxurious room that belonged to them for the whole night.

9

With slow movements, Carl licked and kissed down Dylan’s shaft to his lightly furred balls. He ran his tongue around the globes, tasting the lavender bath oil on his way lower still. He slipped his tongue along the smooth stretch of skin between front and back, taking his time as Dylan continued to suck his cock, the younger man’s mouth a seemingly endless in its damp heat.

When he reached the wrinkled muscle of Dylan’s anus, Carl touched the tip of his tongue to it and smiled at the grunt of encouragement Dylan managed around his mouthful of cock. He dug his tongue deeper into the dark center, tasting more of the lavender bath oil now mixed with Dylan’s unique essence. He had never rimmed Dylan before, never wanting him to feel pressured and understanding that Dylan wanted to take his time, wanted his first time to be just right.

Dylan took his mouth off Carl’s cock but continued to stroke him, hand sliding over the spit-slick length as he caught his breath. “Oh, Carl. That feels so good.”

Carl shifted position, reluctantly pulling his cock from Dylan’s grasp as he rose to his knees on the bed. He grasped Dylan’s ankles and lifted his legs, arranging pillows beneath the small of his back for support. With his hips propped up, Dylan’s asshole was on full, glorious display and Carl paused to look at it in the low lamplight.

The tight circle of rumpled pink muscle looked smooth as satin, trembling beneath the gentle touch of his finger. Carl set his mouth to the threshold, kissing it softly before lathering his tongue over the ridged surface. He pressed his thumbs to either side of Dylan’s sphincter and it popped open the dark, inviting doorway even more. He pushed the tip of his tongue into the center, going deep, then deeper still, slicking him with spit.

As he worked on Dylan’s hole, Carl’s cock thrummed with need. He was so hard the tip had become almost fully exposed from beneath the foreskin, and the cock ring gleamed from its place snug around the base, deep in his freshly trimmed dark bush.

“I want you,” Dylan said, his voice deepened with lust, his eyes blazing with need as he looked up at him. “Inside me. All of you.”

“I’ll get a condom.”

“No.” Dylan reached out to snag his wrist and keep him in place. “No condom. I trust you, and I hope you trust me.”

Carl shifted position a moment to kiss him on the mouth then looked down into his eyes. “I trust you. More than anyone.”

“I want it to be just us, skin to skin. I want you to fill me up with your cum.”

Carl’s cock jerked at the image that flashed through his mind and he leaned down for another kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Dylan whispered back. “Now fuck me.”

A laugh slipped up on Carl, surprising him, and Dylan rewarded him with a flash of a smile as he moved back in position between Dylan’s legs. Carl retrieved the tube of slick he had hidden beneath a pillow earlier, thinking if Dylan hadn’t been ready to receive intercourse, he would be.

He coated Dylan’s hole with a generous amount of lube and slipped in a finger, watching Dylan’s face as the man moaned with pleasure. The slick inner muscles gripped him and he twisted his finger to spread the lube, encouraging more moans. A second finger made Dylan moan even louder, and when he added a third, watching Dylan’s sphincter turn red as it stretched to accommodate him, Dylan lifted his head and looked at him with dazed eyes.

“For god’s sake, get your cock in me.”

Needing no further encouragement, Carl withdrew his fingers and spread more lube on his prick. The slightest touch made him groan and he didn’t think it would take long for him to come, but he would be slow and careful with Dylan. The importance of this moment for them both was not lost on him as he touched the glistening tip of his cock to the puckered opening and eased inside.

He pushed partway inside and paused to lean down for a deep kiss. As their tongues rolled together, Carl pulled his hips back and thrust forward again, slowly, penetrating deeper with this stroke. Dylan groaned into his mouth and Carl repeated the move several times until he finally lay fully seated inside Dylan.

“You’re beautiful,” Carl said between kisses.

“Don’t stop,” Dylan requested. “Keep moving inside me.”

Carl pumped his hips, cautiously at first, then faster. Dylan grimaced twice, and each time Carl paused to make sure he was okay, picking up his pace once again when Dylan reassured him. Soon, Dylan groaned beneath him, feet bouncing at either side of Carl’s head as he pumped into him. Dylan’s cock thumped against the man’s belly in time with Carl’s thrusts, leaving behind a puddle of pre cum while his newly purchased cock ring glimmered in the lamplight.

“I’m close,” Carl huffed as his balls tightened and the familiar tingle started deep inside.

“Do it,” Dylan said. He reached up to pinch Carl’s nipple beneath his chest hair. “Fill me up, baby. Give me all of it.”

The pinch on his nipple broke down the last of his resistance. Carl closed his eyes and plunged deep into Dylan’s ass, deeper than any of his previous thrusts, scraping hard over his lover’s prostate. Dylan let out a grunt and reached down to stroke himself to a splattering climax the same time Carl’s cock bucked inside the warm, wet depths, spilling his load inside him.

Carl collapsed atop Dylan, both of them gulping in deep breaths as their heart rates slowed. He felt Dylan’s sticky seed and sweat smear into his chest hair and onto his skin and smiled.

When he had recovered enough, Carl lifted himself from Dylan’s torso, leaving behind a kiss on his lips. He eased free of the clutch of Dylan’s body and got up to pad into the bathroom where he ran a washcloth beneath warm water and returned to wipe Dylan clean and get him arranged under the covers.

“How do you feel?” Carl asked, sliding into bed and gathering Dylan in his arms.

Dylan sighed. “Amazing.”

Carl turned his hips to lie against his lover and kissed the smooth, pale skin of his shoulder. “Me too.”

As the city came to life outside the windows, Carl listened to Dylan’s breathing deepen and soon slipped into sleep as well, their cock rings touching beneath the softest sheets he had ever slept on.

THE END

About the Author

Hank Edwards is a curious mix of practical realist and feral dreamer. He is a fan of absurd comedy, cases in point, the sizzling and hilarious Charlie Heggensford Fluffers, Inc. Series, and Plus Ones, his rom-com, as well as mystery and suspense such as his Up to Trouble series. His love of chills and thrills prompted him to create the Venom Valley series as well as his humorous and spooky Critter Catchers series. No matter what genre he is dabbling in, however, Hank tries to keep things steamy and heartfelt. He was born and still lives in a northwest suburb of the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan, where he shares a home with his partner of over 20 years and their two cats, who hope you buy lots of his books so they can upgrade their kitty condo.

Stay in touch with Hank:

Twitter: @hanksbooks

Facebook: hankedwardsbooks

www.hankedwardsbooks.com

hankedwardsbooks@gmail.com

Also by Hank Edwards

Gay Romantic Paranormal:

Cowboys & Vampires - Venom Valley Book One

Stakes & Spurs - Venom Valley Book Two

Blood & Stone - Venom Valley Book Three

Terror by Moonlight – Critter Catchers Book One

Chasing the Chupacabra – Critter Catchers Book Two

Swamped by Fear - Critter Catchers Book Three

Wicked Reflection

Gay Romantic Comedies:

Fluffers, Inc. (Charlie Heggensford Stories Book One)

A Carnal Cruise (Charlie Heggensford Stories Book Two)

Vancouver Nights (Charlie Heggensford Stories Book Three)

Plus Ones

Gay Romantic Suspense/Mystery:

Holed Up: Up to Trouble Book One

Shacked Up: Up to Trouble Book Two

Roughed Up: Up to Trouble Book Three

Choked Up: Up to Trouble Book Four

Destiny's Bastard

Hired Muscle

Buried Secrets

Repossession is 9/10ths of the Law

Story Orgy Singles Gay Romance:

A Gift for Greg (A Story Orgy Single)

By the Book (A Story Orgy Single)

Cross Country Foreplay (A Story Orgy Single)

Mistletoe at Midnight (A Story Orgy Single)

The Cheapskate: Bad Boyfriends (A Story Orgy Single)

With This Ring (A Story Orgy Single)

Gay Erotic Short Story Collections:

A Very Dirty Dozen

Another Very Dirty Dozen

Salacious Singles Gay Erotic Short Stories:

Bear Market (A Salacious Single)

Convoy (A Salacious Single)

Double Down (A Salacious Single)

Exchange Rate (A Salacious Single)

Finding North (A Salacious Single)

Hotel Dick (A Salacious Single)

Kindred Spirits (A Salacious Single)

Sacked (A Salacious Single)

Stroking Midnight (A Salacious Single)

Vanity Loves Company (A Salacious Single)

Wet Lands (A Salacious Single)

Hank’s stories also appear in the following anthologies:

50's Mixed Tape Anthology - Totally Bound

Bear Lust: Hot and Hairy Fiction – Bear Bones Books

Bears of Winter - Bear Bones Books

Bears: Gay Erotic Stories – Cleis Press

Cowboys: Gay Erotic Stories – Cleis Press

Dirty Diner: Gay Erotica on the Menu – Bold Strokes Books

Hard Working Men: Gay Erotic Stories – Cleis Press

Hot Cops: Gay Erotic Stories – Cleis Press

On the Run: Tales of Gay Pursuit and Passion - Wilde City Press

Riding the Rails: Locomotive Lust and Carnal Cabooses – Bold Strokes Books

Straight Guys: Gay Erotic Fantasies – Cleis Press

Tales from the Den: Wild and Weird Stories for Bears – Bear Bones Books

Tented: Gay Erotic Tales from Under the Big Top – Lethe Press

Hank writes Young Adult Fantasy Gay Romance under the name R. G. Thomas:

Available from Harmony Ink Press:

The Midnight Gardener – The Town of Superstition Series Book One

The Well of Tears – The Town of Superstition Series Book Two

The Battle of Iron Gulch — The Town of Superstition Series Book Three