“Oh fuck, Tristan.” His balls tightened against his body, his muscles tensed, his dick started to pulse uncontrollably, emptying his load deep in his lover’s still contracting channel. Dylan slid his free hand up Tristan’s back, to the base of his neck and into his hair, pulling his head back. “You’re mine,” he growled possessively, forcefully plunging into Tristan a few more times, drawing out both of their orgasms.
“Yes, yours,” Tristan answered as he gasped for air.
Dylan collapsed on top of Tristan, neither moved except for the last few post orgasmic shudders as they spiraled back down to earth. Dylan loved the feeling of Tristan beneath him, their sweat-covered bodies pressed tightly together. What he’d shared with Tristan was something he had thought he could never have with anyone. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined he’d be in his office with Tristan Wilder bent over his desk. He was in love with this man. This man had found him and opened up a side of him that had been buried for so long. Dylan ran his nose up the back of Tristan’s neck and into his hair. “I love you, Tristan Wilder.”
Tristan used his arms to push up and lift his chest off the desk. Dylan groaned as his softening cock slipped from Tristan’s body. He hated the loss of their connection. His lover turned in his arms and captured his mouth with a lingering kiss. “I love you too, Dylan Reeves,” Tristan breathed against his lips. Tristan’s mouth was on his, kissing him hard. He curled his hand in Tristan’s tie and tugged him closer. Their flaccid cocks rubbed together as they lovingly feasted on each other’s mouth.
“God, if you could see how sexy you are right now,” Dylan growled into the kiss. Tristan pulled back and looked at him.
“Please say you’ll come back to the hotel and stay with me tonight.”
Dylan smiled. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”
“Good. Now that that’s settled”—Tristan turned around, grabbed a tissue off Dylan’s desk, and looked down at Dylan’s free hand. His brow lifting as he spoke—“you’re not touching me again, until you get that mess off your hand.”
“No fair…it’s yours!” Dylan started laughing and reached for the tissue to wipe the sticky wetness off his fingers. “I almost grabbed your tie with that hand. Good thing I caught myself, huh?”
“The tie is one thing, but accidently running that hand through my hair is another.” Tristan winked at him and straightened the tie around his neck. “How about we go back to the hotel, and I’ll let you grab my tie all you want.”
“Deal.” Dylan tossed the tissue into the trash then pulled him in for a playful kiss.
“Mom, I promise I’ll leave if it looks like there’s gonna be any trouble. I got a primo parking spot in front of the rally. I can be back to the car in a few minutes,” Chloe said with her hand on the lifted trunk, waiting for Allison to grab the poster boards they’d created after she got home from her father’s big merger celebration.
“I gotta go, Mom, stop worrying! I’m smarter about everything now. I’ll text you and keep you updated. Love you, bye,” she said, ending the call right there before her mom could go on and on about the importance of keeping her record clean at this stage of her college career. That was the only thing either of her parents ever worried about. How her actions would affect her future. Like activism was a bad thing.
“She over-worries. So do my parents. They were like freaking out that I’m coming here tonight,” Allison said, handing Chloe her sign. She gripped the poster board tight and slammed the trunk shut, clicking the key fob to make sure all the doors were locked.
“I know, right? My mom’s like telling me all this stuff about police records and looking for a job someday,” Chloe said, pushing her too long bangs out of her face. She abruptly came to a halt, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, just north of city hall in downtown Dallas where tonight’s equality rally had been planned. She bent over, placing her sign between her legs as she pulled her long hair into a ponytail with the rubber band at her wrist. The bangs immediately slipped free and fell right back in her eyes. Frustration ensued, drowning out all those lucky feelings she’d had at finding this perfect spot to park so close to the rally.
Sweat trickled down her back as she shoved the bangs aside. May in Texas wasn’t good on the hair or the personal body odors all that sweat caused. She grabbed her designer sunglasses from her purse and slung the bag across her body.
“My parents don’t care about that. They’re so dumb. They’re still saying gay marriage is against moral conduct. What about the weed my dad smokes all the time? Think most people consider that morally correct? No,” Allison said, full of attitude. That was a family secret. Something Allison herself wasn’t supposed to even know about.
“My parents aren’t sanctimonious. They’re actually the other end of the spectrum. They don’t say anything about gay rights at all and that’s wrong of them. I don’t know when they became so status quo. The mayor of this city needs to take a stand and stop riding the fence!” Chloe demanded, building herself up for the march over the next few hours. She grabbed her sign right as a voice in a bullhorn started to speak.
“Come on! We’re late!” She took off running for the rally where several hundred people had gathered. She declared her intention. Ready to stay and fight until the bitter end regardless of what her mom had to say. Bring on the brigade; she was ready and willing to go down for this cause.
Seven hours later, Chloe was still marching in a circle in front of Dallas city hall. The evening heat had done a number on her body. She was certain she was one of those hot smelly messes she’d worried about before. Her voice cracked, her throat raw as she yelled the all night chant, ‘gay, straight, black, white, marriage is a civil right!’ Her arms ached at holding the sign high in the air and she swore the thin poster board felt like a million pounds weighing down on her tight shoulders.