Young, Hung and Hitched
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by Ryan Field
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: When Jordon discovers that his partner of two years, Aaron, has been offered a new job and he'll have to move from Portland, Oregon to New Orleans the day after their impending wedding, Jordon experiences mixed emotions. He's proud of Aaron's promotion and he wants to support him, but moving to New Orleans is the last thing he ever expected he'd do. And that's because he lived there once before. He went to college in New Orleans and started his first restaurant in the Ninth Ward. But he was also one of the refugees who had to be evacuated from a rooftop by helicopter and taken to the Superdome after Hurricane Katrina, which left him traumatized in more ways than one. After Jordon reluctantly agrees to move back to New Orleans, he devises a plan that will give them both the honeymoon of their dreams and a safe haven once they reach New Orleans. He talks Aaron into buying a brand new Silverstream trailer so they can travel the country and stop at gay campgrounds throughout the Southwest on their way to New Orleans. The entire road trip will take most of the summer, and by the time they reach New Orleans, Jordon is hoping his beautiful new trailer will provide a sense of safety and stability when it's time to face his demons head on. The trouble is neither one of them has ever camped before. They don't know a trailer hitch from a trailer brake. Will the stress of getting married, moving to a new city, and learning to handle a huge trailer all at the same time ruin them or make them stronger? And more important, do they love each other enough to overlook the individual flaws and shortcomings that make them both so unique?
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance/Ravenous Romance, 2011
eBookwise Release Date: May 2011
3 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [251 KB]
Reading time: 176-246 min.
When Jordan Colby fell in love with a handsome young coastal engineer in Portland, Oregon, he knew there was a remote possibility they might eventually have to pick up and relocate someday. But he never imagined it would be the day after their wedding.
They'd been living together as a couple for almost two years and they didn't need a wedding to continue their relationship. They were already committed to each other, monogamous, and had settled into a comfortable routine. Gay marriage wasn't even recognized by the federal government and meant nothing legally. But Jordan didn't feel complete without it. He thought a marriage ceremony would validate their relationship and he didn't care what the government or the churches thought. He also thought standing beside dark, handsome Aaron Engle in a formal suit and promising to love, honor, and cherish one man for the rest of his life was the ultimate romantic journey in love. He'd been dreaming about wedding receptions and rings since he'd been a little boy. But he didn't mention this part to Aaron out loud. Aaron tended to doze off whenever they watched romantic movies on TV. And if Jordan even mentioned a romance novel he was reading--or, heaven forbid, a soap opera he followed on TV--Aaron would clear his throat and change the subject as fast as he could.
After months of prodding and harmless scheming Jordan finally convinced Aaron even though a wedding ceremony wouldn't be official in the eyes of the law, it would be an official commitment, or bond, between them. And no one else really mattered. He promised to keep the wedding small and only invite their closest friends and family. When Aaron finally agreed to a small wedding, Jordan was so excited he thanked Aaron with a blow job that left him slack-jawed for almost two days.
They were sitting outside on their veranda the Friday night Aaron informed Jordan they were moving to New Orleans the day after the wedding, almost a month away. Aaron hesitated at first, choosing his words with care. He made a point of mentioning this had happened fast and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. They'd been renting a town house in Portland for two years, saving money with the intentions of buying a home of their own after they were married. As it happened, the lease on the town house was about to expire and they weren't committed to anything. They could pick up and move wherever they wanted.
It was a warm spring night and Jordan was wearing light beige slacks and a black polo shirt. The same morning he'd had his short dishwater brown hair highlighted again, and he'd been feeling blond all over that day. He'd been highlighting his hair every six weeks since he was twenty-one years old--seven years--and he was still amazed at how differently he was treated as a blond. After he left the hair salon, a good-looking guy of African descent held the door open for him at the post office and sent him one of those sultry come-and-get-it-baby looks. Jordon returned the smile; the guy reminded Jordon of an ex-boyfriend. After that, the rough-looking teenage guy at the gas station with tattoos and body piercing washed Jordon's windshield and winked. And the elderly woman at the library didn't charge him a dime for being a day overdue with Love Me Forever and Ever.
When Aaron first mentioned moving away from Portland, Jordan lifted his head and smiled. He had been feeling so wonderful that day he didn't think anything could bring him down. At least not until Aaron said, "I've been offered a job in New Orleans and I want to take it. I know we should discuss this before I officially accept the position. But I want you to know it's not something I want to think about. I'd really like to take this job. The money is double what I'm making now and I've always wanted to work down there."
For a minute or two, Jordan remained seated on a black iron patio chair. He folded his hands on his lap and stared down. He'd gone to college in New Orleans. After he graduated, he'd opened a small restaurant in the 9th Ward, catering to colorful locals and the occasional tourist type who lost his way from Bourbon Street. But he hadn't been back since the day the helicopter lifted him off the rooftop of his building and carried him to the Superdome. He didn't like talking about New Orleans or Hurricane Katrina, and rarely mentioned anything about his former life down there.
Aaron sat down next to Jordan and rested his palm on Jordon's knee. He lifted Jordan's chin with his other hand and said, "I know how you feel about New Orleans. I know how you hate talking about it. But I really want this job. And it might be the best thing for you. Maybe it's time to face your ghosts."
This was an expression Aaron used often with Jordan. Since Katrina, Jordan had developed a few phobias that caused him to avoid certain situations. He was terrified to open his own business again, so he worked as a cook in a small, out-of-the-way restaurant. The slightest hint of a thunderstorm or a rain storm caused him to stammer He couldn't heights, which ranged from refusing to fly in a plane to going above the third floor in a high-rise building. None of these phobias affected his life directly. He could function and live a perfectly normal life by avoiding long-term business commitments, rain storms, and higher elevations. But Aaron thought talking about his experience in New Orleans and facing it head on would help him overcome his fears. Aaron was like that: a take-charge kind of guy who seemed to go through life with blinder He was forever telling Jordan he had to face his ghosts.
"It's easy to say I should face my ghosts," Jordan said. Frankly, this was getting a little cliché, in his opinion. "But you had to be there, Aaron. You had to actually experience what I saw in New Orleans to understand how I feel." This time he didn't think he was exaggerating. When you're hooked to a rope dangling from a helicopter and suspended over flood waters, it's major.
Aaron put his arms around him and held him tightly. "Then tell me what happened," he said. "I want to know, and I think you'll feel a lot better if you finally let loose and talk about it. At least face the ghosts with me. Right here, right now."
Jordan rested his cheek on Aaron's chest and sighed. "I wish I could. Maybe someday I will. But not right now." He didn't whimper; his tone didn't grow softer. He was resigned to the fact there were some things in life he'd never understand.
"I have to take this job," Aaron said. "It's just too good to pass up. Please support me in this. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
Although Jordan knew his fears weren't rational, he couldn't help his emotional response. "If I refuse to go to New Orleans, does that mean the wedding is off and you'll go without me?"
Aaron's head jerked back and tipped to the side. He reached for Jordan's chin and drew Jordan's face toward his. "Of course not. I love you and I'd never give you an ultimatum like that. What I'm saying is this is the best job offer I've ever had and I'd hate to miss out on the opportunity. I want to do this."
Jordan's face softened and he gazed into Aaron's large brown eyes. In the dim light of the veranda, with the stars above his head, Aaron's dark brown hair looked black and his olive skin glistened. "What about our lives here in Portland? We have our friends and your family." He gestured with his arms. "We have a home and I have a good job at Mickey's."
Aaron stood up and walked to the other end of the veranda. He shrugged and said, "I've already talked about it with my family and they don't mind. They're actually looking forward to trips to New Orleans. And we can come back to Portland all the time and visit them. We only rent this town house and the lease is up soon. We were going to move into our own home eventually. I love our lives here and I'll miss our friends. But sometimes you have to move forward in life, especially when there's a good opportunity. Your job at Mickey's is beneath you and you know it. You can get a better job at a better restaurant in New Orleans, or you can open your own restaurant again."
When Aaron shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face a long row of well-manicured shrubberies that created a wall of privacy, Jordan glanced at him and sighed. Though it wasn't even summer yet, Aaron wore navy blue shorts and his masculine, knobby, athletic legs made Jordan's chest cave in. He was rugged in that sexy, casual jock way. He had the kind of perfect male body that looked good in everything he wore, from the cheapest discount store shorts to the most expensive, well-tailored tuxedo. His chest was broad and his hips slim; his legs slightly bowed and his feet angled in prefect directions. When he went jogging in the roughest of weather, he made it look effortless, with his arms swinging and his legs gliding. But more than that, Aaron's heart was coated with gold. Though he could be rough to deal with sometimes, he was just as good on the inside as he was on the outside.
So Jordan stood up from the seat and crossed to where Aaron was standing. He walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Aaron's narrow waist. Then he rested his cheek on Aaron's back and said, "You've obviously been considering this for a long time. If this is what you really want to do, then I'll support you completely." Moving back to New Orleans was the last thing he wanted to do. But he didn't say this aloud. He knew if he did, Aaron might have second thoughts. He could see the excitement in Aaron's face and he could hear the anticipation of a bright future in Aaron's voice, which he didn't have the heart to ignore.
Besides, Aaron was the one with the important career. Jordon knew better than anyone his professional life as a hapless cook in a mediocre restaurant was as expendable as old chewing gum.
Aaron turned around to face him. He leaned into a rail along the back of the veranda and smiled. "Are you certain? I really want this job. But I don't want it at the expense of losing you or hurting you in any way."
Jordan slid his fingers into the waistband of Aaron's navy shorts and he smiled. "You're never going to lose me, so get that out of your head right now. I'd be the biggest fool in the universe to disappoint a man like you. Besides, I think it might be very romantic. It'll be like starting married life right after the wedding." It would have been more romantic to start a new life in a place like San Diego or Los Angeles, instead of New Orleans. But thankfully, Jordan had a way of turning things around to suit his needs. He'd been born lucky that way. He knew if he had to, no matter how much he dreaded setting foot in New Orleans again, he could turn this around, too. "I'd like you to promise me one thing, though."
"If we move down there, I'd rather live in Metairie than right in New Orleans." When he'd lived in New Orleans before, Metairie was a suburb he rarely visited. It held no memories and no negative associations.
"I don't see why not," Aaron said. "You know more about the area than I do because you lived down there for a long time, so I'll take your word for it."
Jordon sighed. "I'd feel more comfortable there." The last place he wanted to see was the 9th Ward. On some nights, when the ghosts returned to haunt him, he could actually smell what it was like during the floods--a smell that was impossible to describe, or forget.
Aaron placed his palms on Jordon's waist and leaned forward. He buried his face in the crook of Jordon's neck and started kissing him. "Your hair looks really good tonight. I always like the way it looks right after you get it highlighted."
Jordon smiled. "Thanks for noticing." Aaron didn't always notice these things. So Jordon slid his palms beneath Aaron's white polo shirt and rested them on his hard, flat stomach. Aaron was one of those men who didn't have to work hard to obtain defined abdominal muscles, so many times referred to with the overused expression as six-pack abs. He did a basic workout three times a week and his stomach and chest muscles responded effortlessly. Of course Aaron took it for granted, shrugging it off as good genes and a lot of football practice in high school and college. But Jordon never took it for granted. Each time he touched, kissed, or licked Aaron's torso, his knees felt weak and he was ready to submit to anything Aaron had in mind.
"How could I not notice?" Aaron said, nibbling on his ear lobe. "I'll bet half the people who saw you today noticed how hot you look."
He had a jealous streak, too, which always put a smile on Jordon's face. "If anyone did notice, I wasn't aware of it." He always tried to calm Aaron's jealousy.
Aaron's hands went down and he cupped both sides of Jordon's ass. "Take off your pants before I rip them off." He laughed and slapped Jordon's ass.
Jordon smiled. His hands went down and he opened the button on Aaron's shorts. Then he slid his right hand down into Aaron's white briefs and reached for his dick. Aaron had a thick, chunky cock that always tasted a little salty and smelled like damp cotton and plain brown soap no matter how often he showered. It felt warm and solid that night; it reminded Jordon of a beer can at room temperature more than Aaron's stomach muscles reminded him of a six-pack. His dark, course pubic hair hadn't been trimmed with the electric razor in about two weeks and Jordon knew he'd be picking stray hairs from his teeth in a few minutes. "We should go inside. Someone might see us out here. I could get arrested for what I'm about to do to you right now."
Reaching down fast, Aaron opened Jordon's beige pants. When his hand went down and he grabbed Jordon's ass, he said, "You're not wearing underwear again. I like that."
Jordon released Aaron's dick and took a step back. His pants were halfway down by then and Aaron was gaping at his legs. He turned to a long outdoor dining table and removed a pair of large candlesticks. He set them on a side table and said, "Take off your clothes and get up on the table. Lie down on your back and let your legs dangle over the sides." This was one of those sturdy outdoor tables made out of teakwood. It was wide and Jordon knew it was strong enough to hold them both. They'd fucked on this table before and it hadn't collapsed.
Without asking any questions, Aaron quickly removed his clothes. Jordon watched him kick off his cross-training shoes and pull off his white ankle socks. This was part of the thrill for Jordon. Watching Aaron strip this way brought back all the fantasies and frustrations of his high school days when he was in the men's locker room, trying hard not to gape at the humpy class jocks removing their clothes. Back then he had to force himself to think about horrible, disgusting things to keep from getting an erection in front of them. He had to hold his breath and clench his teeth so he wouldn't glance between their legs and lick his lips. Now that he had a jock all of his own the frustration was gone and the fantasy became reality.
When Aaron was naked and lying on the table, Jordon removed his clothes and placed the soft pillow beneath Aaron's head. He felt mischievous and naughty, as if he were seducing the captain of the football team behind the head cheerleader's back. Then he climbed up on the table and straddled Aaron's naked body with his face aligned to Aaron's crotch and his ass in Aaron's face. He spread his legs until his knees reached the edge of the table. Then he arched his back and started rolling his hips and slow circles, inviting Aaron to play with his ass.
But his hips didn't rotate for long. He didn't have a chance with Aaron. Within seconds, Aaron's head lifted and he buried his face in Jordon's ass. In private, Aaron had always referred to himself in bed as an ass pirate. He said he loved every inch of Jordon's slim, soft body, from his earlobes to his toes. He said he enjoyed caressing Jordon's soft shoulders and squeezing his smooth legs. But he wasn't shy about letting Jordon know what he craved the most. He made no mistake about it: he couldn't get enough of Jordon's ass. When they were alone, talking and joking around as lovers often do when no one else is within listening distance to laugh at them instead of with them, Aaron often joked about Jordon's ass tasting like prosciutto.
The stubble from Aaron's beard caused a chill that hardened Jordon's nipples. His head fell back and his eyelids fluttered the deeper Aaron went. When Aaron started moving his mouth as if he were finishing off the last of an ice cream cone, Jordon's scrotum tightened and his toes curled.When Aaron placed both of his large hands flat against Jordon's ass rounds and spread them apart so he could really go to work, Jordon's head went down and he sucked Aaron's dick so far into his mouth his nose pushed against Aaron's balls.
They remained in this upside-down position for so long Jordon's knees started to ache against the hard wooden table. But it didn't break his concentration. Jordon's cheeks indented and he sucked until he tasted Aaron's pre-come, which he knew would continue to flow until Aaron's eventually climaxed. By that time, Aaron was spreading the lips of Jordon's anus apart with his thick fingers, shoving his tongue so far inside Jordon's body it made the ache in his knees worthwhile. Jordon knew what Aaron's intentions were that night. They'd been doing this long enough to get it perfect. It was their own private brand of foreplay. Aaron was slowly opening Jordon up so he wouldn't need lube when it was time to fuck him.
When Aaron was finally able to slide three fingers into Jordon's ass without any trouble at all, he slapped Jordon's thigh with his other hand and said, "You're ready now."
Without asking any questions, Jordon got up and straddled Aaron's pelvis. He faced the other end of the veranda, with his back to Aaron. Then he set his feet flat against the wooden table and situated himself until he was in a squatting position to sit on Aaron's cock. He braced one palm against Aaron's thigh for support and guided Aaron's dick into his hole with the other. He went down on it slowly and moaned. There was always a little pain in the beginning, but nothing he wouldn't handle, or welcome. It wasn't long before his knees were even with his ears and the backs of his calves were pressed to the backs of his thighs. Jordon had always been able to bend and twist in ways other people couldn't. He could still lift one leg over his head and twist it around his neck, and in this particular position, though it would have been awkward for most people to remain this way for long, Aaron's chunky cock hit just the right spots in Jordon's body. Once the initial pain subsided, he could remain there until his legs went numb.
Aaron sat up and grabbed Jordon's hips, digging into his flesh with his fingertips. He held them and applied a slight amount of pressure while Jordon started to ride him. The pain was soon replaced by indescribable pleasure and the friction ignited the beginning of Jordon's climax a little too soon. He remained in this position for a while, moving up and down with an even rhythm, then leaned back so he could brace his palms on the table and ride faster. His lips parted; he closed his eyes and moaned, holding back screams because they were outside and he didn't want any of the neighbors to hear him enjoying Aaron's dick this much. Aaron was helpless beneath him. He moaned softly while Jordon took control and rode him. In this superior position, Jordon knew Aaron couldn't do anything but remain still while he did all the work. He knew how to get Aaron off this way. He had to move fast at an even pace, and keep his sphincter tight to create as much suction as possible.
He finally felt Aaron's palm on his shoulder. With a weak voice, Aaron said, "I'm close."
Jordon continued riding. He kept his left hand braced on the table and reached for his own cock with his right. "I'm close too." He'd been close since they started.
A minute after that, Aaron's legs wiggled a few times and he grunted. When his body went stiff and he squeezed Jordon's shoulder, his dick expanded inside Jordon's body and he came with such intensity his entire body jerked. Aaron sometimes had tendencies to be dramatic during climax, rocking and shaking, writhing and shuttering. The first time they were together Jordon thought he'd given him a seizure. But Jordon was used to all this drama by now. While Aaron's hand was still on Jordon's shoulder, Jordon jacked out a load that shot into the darkness and disappeared into an invisible arc. His come went over the end of the table and over Aaron's legs, landing somewhere on the veranda that wouldn't be worth locating in the dark when they were finished. Aaron wasn't a shooter. When he came, it was subtle and within reach. If Aaron jacked off, it basically just ran out of his dick and down his fingers. But they often joked around about how far Jordon could shoot. Once, while they were on their backs and Jordon was jacking off in bed, he shot so far it landed on an oil painting above the headboard. It would have gone farther if the wall hadn't been in the way.
Without removing Aaron right away, Jordon lowered his legs and stretched them forward. He sat flat against Aaron's lap and adjusted his hips until he was comfortable. While his legs dangled over the end of the table, mingling with Aaron's legs, Aaron sat up and wrapped his arms around Jordon's shoulders, pinning Jordon's arms to his sides. This was one of Jordon's favorite positions, when he was sitting on Aaron's lap and Aaron's dick was as deeply buried in his body as it could go.
Aaron kissed the back of his neck and said, "That was nice. You worked hard tonight."
Jordon smiled. His legs were a little numb now. But good sex was worth the effort. "I couldn't have done it without you." He adjusted his hips; he clamped down harder so Aaron wouldn't slide out too soon.
"I'm looking forward to everything," Aaron said. "Just think, in one month we'll be married and starting a new life somewhere else."
Jordon wasn't looking forward to the move as much as Aaron, but he was looking forward to getting married and spending the rest of his life with the man he loved. So he smiled and rested the back of his head on Aaron's shoulder. He sighed and thought about something that would get his mind off New Orleans.
The one thing he hadn't mentioned yet to Aaron was the honeymoon he'd been planning. Aaron had no way of knowing, but Jordon had been planning something special for a while: a honeymoon they'd never forget, a trip they'd remembwith affection someday, when they were old and gray. He just had to wait until morning to bring it up. He had a feeling it would take some serious coaxing--and some serious, expert sock sucking--and he'd wind up slack-jawed for two days again.