Tucker’s tongue thrust into his mouth and Elliot pushed hungrily back. It was good between them. It always had been. And this was one of the things that had been best. This wordless, instinctive sexual compatibility that enabled each to give the other exactly what he wanted, what he needed.

Or, maybe in this case, Tucker giving Elliot what he needed, because it was happening now. He couldn’t stop it if he wanted to, the very idea was ridiculous…A sultry, snapping heat started at the base of Elliot’s spine and sparkled up through cartilage, blood vessels and nerves.

One final jerk, one final thrust, and climax came rolling like thunderclouds tumbling through the summer sky—a peppery rain of hot release.

“That was different,” Elliot mumbled a while later, easing his leg from the damp tangle of sheets and limbs. “Did you—no, you didn’t, did you?”

Tucker chuckled, that low growl of lazy amusement, and settled more comfortably, pulling Elliot close again. He licked the trickle of sweat from Elliot’s temple. “Don’t worry. My turn’s coming…”

*  *  *

It was still dark when Elliot next woke, but the edges of the night were fading. He could feel Tucker stirring beside him. He smiled, nuzzled him, and Tucker opened his mouth, tasting sleepy and warm and familiar. Tucker grunted an inarticulate greeting and they were chuckling sleepily, tasting their shared laughter.

Tucker’s erection prodded Elliot in his belly. He had woken exactly like the old days: randy and raring to go. That was fine by Elliot. He’d woken in the same state of need. His own cock was shoving right back as they held each other in a long, hard hug.

The night before had been sweet and simple, a much needed release of tension and an expression of affection. They both wanted more now.

“I’ll toss you for it,” Tucker said, raising his head, his eyes shining.

“There’s an image.”

Tucker didn’t laugh. He sounded unexpectedly serious as he said, “I want it to be whatever you want this time.”

This time? Hadn’t he got whatever he wanted a couple of hours ago?

“Yeah?” Elliot murmured. “What I want, really want, is to be fucked. I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh God,” Tucker muttered. “I want that. I don’t think a week goes by I don’t dream about it. The way it feels to move inside you. The way your body grabs on like tight velvet. The sounds you make, like having me inside you is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Elliot moaned in response to that dark, seductive voice. His cock went stiffer still.

“Yeah, like that,” Tucker breathed hotly against his ear. “Just like that. The way you spread yourself, spread your legs so that I can get at you and push so deep—”

It was easy in that comfortable gloom. Easy to kick off the blankets, easy to let Tucker take him through the necessary steps of preparation. In the old days it had been something to rush through, but now there was an intimate solemnity to the ritual of condom and lube.

“It’s been a while for me,” Elliot admitted, squirming pleasurably as he surrendered to the finger stroking him in that most private of places.

“Me too.”

“Oh Christ. Touch me again there…”

“There?” Whispered.

Elliot’s breath hitched, words temporarily failing him. He pushed his hips down, trying to get more.

Tucker’s own admission made it easy to relax beneath that coaxing, almost hypnotic touch. This too had once been something to hurry past. Now it felt like an end in itself. Tucker taking so much time, so much trouble to make it good for Elliot.

Elliot writhed, breathless, helpless, shivering with a kind of electrical overload at the feel of that long, sturdy finger probing him, pushing in and out past the guardian ring of muscle.

“What will be easiest on your leg?”

Elliot hadn’t even thought of his leg. Having to consider it now felt like having some complicated philosophical question thrown at him.

“Uh…Probably if I lay on my side?”

They shifted around, cocks rigid and bobbing in this new version of Twister.

“How’s that?”

Elliot nodded. Tucker’s lightly haired legs brushed Elliot’s own, his breath was hot against the back of Elliot’s neck, his arm resting warmly, possessively over Elliot’s waist as he began that delicate caress of fingertip to anus once more, trailing up and down the cleft of Elliot’s ass. Elliot’s breath caught.

“Okay?”

“I need more.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll give you more.” Tucker kissed his shoulder. “All you can take.” One finger became two and then he replaced the fingers with his cock, pushing slowly, with piercing sweetness into Elliot’s body. A tight fit, a very tight fit. Tucker was taking great pains not to ram into him, which Elliot appreciated, as his body braced, resisted… Wait, this hurts, do I really want this? Should I let this happen?…resisted…and then capitulated.

“Oh God. Yes. Please, Tucker.”

That breach of flesh always astonished him. It wasn’t only physical, that letting someone inside. Physical was the easy part.

He’d have liked to lay on his back, liked to have the lights on so he could stare up into Tucker’s face as Tucker made those pained, delighted sounds, liked to have seen Tucker’s cock sliding in and out of his body, but this was easier on his knee, and almost at once they began to move, at first off-kilter, but then finding the meter, sliding into it, gliding into the push…pull.

They were fucking, fucking hard now, losing the last inhibitions, letting go. Tucker was thrusting fiercely, satisfyingly, and Elliot was shoving back to meet him. They were both urging the other on with groans and inarticulate words over the excited squeak of the bedsprings.

Tucker’s hand smoothed over Elliot’s flank, found his cock, and worked him with that deliberate skill. Elliot moaned and frantically rocked his hips.

“Tucker…”

Tucker’s thrusts punctuated his words. “I missed you so…fucking…much…”

Heat and pressure built with an almost unbearable pleasure until it seemed that something had to give…and then it did. Elliot stiffened head-to-toe as release crashed through him, sweeping him dizzily along. He began to come in shocked sweet gushes, only dimly aware when Tucker grabbed him, losing his own rhythm, losing control at last and crying out as he toppled off the edge after Elliot…

*  *  *

They slept late, waking the second time well after nine, and tried for three out of three, only to laughingly have to admit defeat.

“Who are you calling old man?” Tucker huffed, finally falling back in the sheets. He reached over, his hand patting down Elliot’s groin. “You’re nearly as old as I am.”

With considerably more wear and tear, but Elliot felt strangely young and carefree that morning. His leg was still stiff, but a night’s rest had reduced the pain to a manageable ache. The fear that he had set his recovery back or damaged the prosthetic knee was eased and forgotten. He had better things to think about.

“Hey.” He knocked Tucker’s intrusive hand away. “What are you doing?”

“Carbon dating. Checking your tree rings.”

“Keep your paws off my tree rings.”

“You don’t mean that, Elliot,” Tucker said earnestly, and Elliot started laughing again. He felt like he’d laughed more in eight hours than he had in eight months.

“Jackass.” He turned his head, studying Tucker’s face. Tucker’s eyes slanted to meet his. He was smiling. “If you felt like this, why’ve you been such a jerk?”

“Why have I been such a jerk?”

Elliot shrugged. “Okay. Maybe it’s a draw. Why didn’t you call me back last weekend?”

“Oh.” Tucker grimaced, surprising Elliot.

“What does that mean?”

“I sailed out to Goose Island.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped. “You…?”