At Long Last

probing, thrusting. His panting, Scott's desperate moans, his balls slapping against bare skin, and the incessant annoying bass of Scott's music were the only sounds in the room.
    On and on he thrust. Again and again. Unable or unwilling to get enough of Scott. Making up for time missed from when he'd wanted Scott six years ago? Preston couldn't say. He just knew that fucking this man was the most gratifying sexual experience he'd had in his life.
    "Pres, I'm going to come."
    "Do it," Preston growled, slamming faster.
    Scott tensed beneath him, his ass clenching Preston's cock. With a soft sigh, he shook and the smell of semen filled the air.
    Preston stared for a moment, taking in the sight of the creamy cum lying across Scott's abs. Then, unable to hold back the tingle, the thrill of his own orgasm, he closed his eyes and with a groan of his own let the wracking release overcome him.
    He collapsed on Scott, feeling the sticky wetness of his lover's cum against his bare skin. He kept his eyes closed for the time being, allowing the feel of Scott's arms embracing him to comfort him.
    Eventually he withdrew and discarded the condom in a nearby trash basket. He looked down at Scott. The man had a beautiful satisfied smile on his face.
    "Pleased with yourself?"
    Scott shook his head, sat up. "No. With you."
    "Yeah, that was...wow."
    Scott nodded. "I'll say. I'm starving. Want to go get something to eat?"
    Preston shook his head. "I've got a better idea. My house isn't far. Let's go to my house and I'll make us omelets."
    Scott grinned. "Sounds great. Now where the hell are my clothes?"

Chapter 4
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    Scotty stood in the front hall of Preston's house and glanced around. He was immediately struck by the hominess. Mail had been tossed on a nearby table. Preston threw his suit coat on a bar stool.
    He'd not been in this house. Six years ago Preston had lived in another home with his now ex-wife. Marilyn had decorated that one. It was the picture of clean grace and sterile beauty. The few times Scotty had been there he'd felt out of place and uncomfortable.
    Of course, Marilyn had hated his guts. There was that. And she certainly never pretended otherwise. Scotty figured she just didn't like homosexuals. Whatever the reason, he made sure his visits to their shared home had been rare.
    "Come on in," Preston said, looking back over his shoulder at him. "No need to stand in the hallway."
    Scotty admitted he was hesitant. Just a short time ago he'd had sex with Preston.
    Preston, for God's sake.
    Just the man Scott had been lusting after ever since Jack had introduced his best friend to his family. A straight man. Or Scotty thought so. But geez, what had that all been about at the office and why had Preston invited him over?
    Scotty followed Preston into what was obviously the living room. A big screen television took up a good portion of one wall.
    "I'll bet games are great on that," Scotty said.
    Preston grinned. "Oh, yeah. That's why I got it."
    The other pieces of furniture in the room were an oversized brown leather couch, an easy chair, and an end table placed between the couch and chair.
    "Sit wherever you like. I'll start the omelets." Preston headed through an arched doorway into the kitchen.
    Scotty sat in the easy chair and undid the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He had left his coat and tie in his car when he'd parked out in front of Preston's house.
    A simple bungalow-style house from the looks of it. Probably the typical three bedrooms, one bathroom houses built so prevalently in the 1950s and 1960s. In the Los Angeles suburb Preston lived in, Glendale, such homes were the usual structures found in middle-class neighborhoods.
    Preston appeared in the archway. He'd rolled up the shirtsleeves. "What do you like in your omelet? I have avocados, tomatoes, American cheese, onions, and bacon."
    "All of those, yes."
    "Okay." Preston nodded. "Want a beer?"
    "Sure."
    "You can put on the television if you want. I'll bring the food in here when I'm done." He disappeared again.
    Scotty reached for the remote and wondered why Preston was being so nice. Also why he hadn't brought up what they'd done in the office.
    Not all that surprising, Scotty guessed. No doubt Preston purposely avoided the subject. Which had started to bother Scotty.
    Would Preston just pretend he hadn't just had Scotty splayed out on his desk, fucking him to within an inch of his life?
    He clicked on the big screen television, not really