Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

around them made him harder.
    Oliver knew it, too. "You'd like me to suck you off right here, wouldn't you?" he purred, releasing George's mouth only to take a forceful nip of his neck. "You want me on my knees in this lot with your dick down the back of my throat, don't you?"
    His hardness was answer enough, George figured. Thrusting his hips, he silently begged for Oliver to wrap his fist around his cock, as his thigh parted the other man's forcefully. Oliver took the hint, his fingers warm and hard as they surrounded George's shaft. At the same time, his nibble of George's earlobe raised goose bumps along his throat in defiance of the heat. George pushed his cock into Oliver's hand, his mind racing ahead to the moment Oliver would kneel and take him deep. A guy leaning against a truck tailgate a few vehicles over cried out as he came.
    Oliver broke away, stepping back. George ached from the loss of him. "Well, I won't. But you can come back to my place, and we can have a pillow fight."
    George barked a frustrated sound. "What?"
    Oliver smiled, but it wasn't so dark George couldn't see the angry sparkle in his eyes. "You're mad at the world, I'm mad at you, but I don't have boxing gloves, dammit. I do happen to have some hard-as-rocks feather pillows." His expression was challenging, and as George thought about it, the idea sounded just ludicrous enough to be appealing.
    "Deal."
    Oliver unlocked his car. "Get in."
    George wasn't ready to take orders from Oliver, not here and not now, and above all, he wasn't about to leave his truck parked beside this building. He dug out his keys from his front pocket, shaking them in Oliver's face. "My truck goes where I go, I'll meet you at your place." The way Oliver rolled his eyes made George grin as he walked away. Oliver was a car guy. He didn't understand the connection between a man and his truck.
    ****
    "Where are we doing this?" George hefted the plaid-covered pillow experimentally, eying the ornate antique furniture in Oliver's bedroom doubtfully. Oliver stepped out of the immense closet, holding another pillow with the matching case.
    "Out back. It's mating season, other birds will grab them to make nests. Strip first."
    George laughed heartily. "Naked pillow fighting, huh?"
    Oliver shucked his pajama bottoms, coolly returning George's smile, but there was heat in his gaze. "Oh, yeah. Loser gets fucked. Ass in the air, cheeks spread. Fucked."
    "How will I know when I've won?" George dropped his pillow on the bed so he could unfasten his jeans.
    "First one to run out of feathers loses." Oliver straightened and whipped off his shirt. "And you're going to lose."
    The air was cooler in Oliver's spacious back yard than it had been in the bar parking lot. Fairy lights twinkled around the trunks of the tall river oaks, making George roll his eyes at the idea of a man living alone would do such, but then Oliver took the first thwack with his pillow, hitting George mid-chest while he was gazing around like a tourist, and he forgot about everything but winning. The erection he'd had at the bar had receded, but as they rained blows upon each other, punctuated with shouts and taunts, he began to grow hard again, looking at Oliver's nude body. The man was fine, and his cock was more than half-mast, and George got distracted more than one time watching it bounce.
    "Turn around, George. I wanna soften up that ass before I fuck it," Oliver taunted, swinging hard.
    George jumped out of the way as he shook his head, pausing to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "If you want it, you have to win it." He narrowed his eyes and dropped his hand to his shaft, stroking himself while Oliver stared. "And you're not going to win."
    Sweat sheened Oliver's torso. Fine blonde curls stuck to the centerline of his chest as well as to his brow, along with a few pinfeathers. Oliver grasped his own cock, polishing it rapidly, his gaze never leaving George's fist. "I'm imagining my hand is your sweet ass, George. I wonder what sound you'll make when I pop your cherry? I bet I can make you moan like a bitch, baby. Can you feel it yet George? My cock sliding into you? I know I can."
    George swung hard, scoring a clean hit at the knee as Oliver let go of his woody and drew back for his own attack. Oliver staggered, but George's triumphant grin faded as he saw the explosion of feathers from his pillow.
    "Got any duct tape?" he joked, but impending defeat made his brow damper. Oliver's pillow