Tag: men in love

by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

falconphenixbeach:

Cade pushed his hand against Tyler’s and entwined their fingers together.
“How long do you think it’s going to take for them to notice we got engaged?”
“Hmm. My dad won’t notice at all. We could replace the sofa and he wouldn’t notice until he sat on it. My mom will probably notice when I hand her something, and will demand to know how long I’ve been wearing it. Then she’ll get angry I didn’t tell her sooner, and then she’ll start crying out of joy.”
Cade chuffed air through his nose. “That was oddly specific.”
“Well that’s what happened when my sister got engaged,” Tyler explained. “So I expect it’ll be similar. Maybe she’ll spot it sooner though; Mom’s been asking if we’ve been thinking about it, considering how long we’ve been together.”
“What did you tell her?” Cade asked.
“Well,” Tyler snickered. “When my sister asked me this, kind of snidely actually, I told her the rings we have at home don’t fit on our fingers.”
Cade guffawed. “Good lord, please tell me you didn’t tell your mother that.”
“No, she would be horrified. And I would like to keep being invited to Thanksgiving. I just told her that it’ll be time when it’s time.”

“It’d been time for a while though,” Cade said almost to himself.
“oh? Why didn’t you propose before?”
“Because it was really hard to measure your fingers, because I’m always asleep before you.”
Tyler stopped in the middle of the airport terminal. “That was the reason?”
“Yes! And you always had your hands curled up by your face or under the pillow. You made it really hard!” Cade emphasized this with a pointed finger poking Tyler’s chest.
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Tyler said dryly.
Cade kissed him on the cheek. “You’re forgiven. I felt like a spy on a mission though. Was kinda fun. And the fact it took a while meant I could propose to you on that overnight hike, which was perfect.”
“Yeah, it was perfect. Couldn’t imagine it any other way. Hey uh what baggage claim are we at again?”

Cade glanced around the baggage terminal. “I have totally forgotten.”
Tyler looked at the digital sign. “According to this, it’s #3?”
”Uhh yeah that’s our flight alright. You know, by this time next year, our boarding passes and luggage tags will have the same last name on them.”
Tyler couldn’t help but grin. “I think we need to get some very expensive and very ugly matching luggage for the honeymoon.”
Cade smirked. “Matching? My love, we’re only going to need one suitcase for our honeymoon.”
“Why?” Tyler furrowed his dark brows.
“Cause we’re going to spend most of the time without wearing clothes.”
Tyler groaned. “Don’t say things like that when we’re going to be stuck in my parent’s house for a week in a room right across from theirs.”
Cade pulled his bag off the carousel. “Oh I thought about that. That’s why I brought the silk scarves, darling, so I could gag you with them.”
Tyler heard the lady behind him gasp at the same time he did, and it set him off in a fit of embarrassed giggles. He almost missed his bag and had to go chase after it.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

afaerytalelife:

A Nantucket Summer.

Julian dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. He looked over his shoulder at the car, then out to sea.
“Honey, it’s time to go,” Luke called.
Julian didn’t move right away. He inhaled, filling his lungs with salt air. “Is it really time to go?”
Luke paused. He closed the car door and walked over to where Julian was standing by the fence. His leather slippers made muffled crunching noises as he walked across the gravel interspersed between decorative paving stones. When Luke got close enough, he wrapped his arms around Julian’s shoulders. “Did you fall in love with this place?”
Julian sniffled. “Yes.”
“It’s pretty here.”
“Yeah. it is pretty. It’s not just that, though.
“What is it?” Luke asked.
I …I feel more in love with you here, than back home.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” Julian reached up and covered Luke’s hands with his own. “It’s so romantic here. We’re unclothed or naked like all the time. We sleep with the doors and windows open…we make love on the beach. we drink wine on a pier, enjoy an afternoon out on a boat, we eat outside, you make your teaching plans for the fall, I paint like a madman until three in the morning…”
Luke nuzzles Julian’s ear. “It is romantic. But it’s only romantic because you’re here with me – in my bed, on our porch, on the boat, on the beach. In my arms.” He lowered his voice. “Under me.”
Julian shivered.
“But you are also in New York City with me. And you’re the only reason New York is magical to me.”
Julian startled. “Really?”
“Yes. We walk in Central Park together, we drink coffee at cafes, we curl up under the blankets, we buy the first harvest of apples at the Union Square Farmre’s market, we make love as the snow buries us outside…you bring me lunches at the University with paint on your clothes, and you walk me home in the dark after meeting me at the subway station.  It’s…well.”
“Romantic?”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “It is.”
Julian turned around to face Luke and studied him. He had some lines on his face he didn’t use to. With his loose curls pulled back in a short ponytail like that, Julian could really see the greys now. Streaks of them. But Luke didn’t look old. He looked sophisticated and wise. And handsome. Julian rubbed the ring on his own hand with his thumb. He smiled.
“What?” Luke asked, the corner of his mouth going up on one side. His cheeks looked a little pink under the tan. “Why are you smiling?”
“Cause I made the right choice in marrying you. I’ll never love anymore more in my life.” Julian planted a kiss on Luke’s surprised mouth. He slipped away and began to walk toward the car. “Come on honey, we need to get going or we’ll get stuck on the FDR.”
Luke fumbled for words. He felt oddly warm and flustered. “Uh yeah – right, right. Coming.” He gave the ocean one last look, and followed Julian to the car.

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Captions are fictional.

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I had gone to the dungeon as a last resort. Years of psychological damage from childhood and poor self esteem had left me fragmented and hollow, and therapy could not touch it. I wanted release. I wanted to break through. I wanted to crumple and die and be reborn on the other side.

I was terrified when they tied me to the A frame with ropes and cuffs and chains, spread eagle and naked for a handful of naked and leather-clad spectators. I wanted to use the safe word. It was on the tip of my tongue. Instead I used “yellow”, over and over and over again, until I was sure the man in the mask would frustrated with me and tell me to get out. He did not.

Instead, he listened. He went slow. He spanked me and whipped me until I screamed and my muscles shuddered after each strike. I saw nothing but stars. Over and over until I lost track of them all. I could hear the others murmuring but could not make out what they were saying. I could hear him heaving from the effort. Then, he said, “Good boy,"  and gave one final strike. At that moment, I felt myself come apart. I ejaculated all over the floor. That gross, ugly, dirty shadow of shame that had clung to me ripped away and left me fresh and new and exposed on the frame.

"Stop” crossed my lips as I burst into tears. It hurt to cry – my face ached, my throat hurt. It felt as if my body had sweated out all its liquid and was pulling water from deep inside of me. The masked man and his assistant immediately untied me. The masked man set aside the whip and brought me to the floor and wrapped me into his strong arms. I did not care about his scent, or that his biceps were damp from sweat. I clung to him like a buoy as if I were deep out in dark waters. He rocked me and shh’ed me. His assistant brought me water; I drank it so fast I got hiccups.

The masked man chuckled and soothed me through my hysteria, cleaning my nose and my eyes with a handkerchief.
“There there…it’s alright. Come down now. That was very intense for your first session. I was impressed by your stamina. Alright, breathe for me. Yes, that’s a good boy now.”
“Am – Am I really – good?” I stammered.
He blinked down at me. ‘Yes. You’re a good boy,“ he said, petting my hair.

At that moment, I fell in love with him. I didn’t know his name. I hadn’t seen his face. But I loved him. I curled up against his broad chest and just breathed. No one had ever called me a ‘good boy’ before. No one had ever told me they’d loved me and meant it. No one had held me like this in my life.

I heard a new voice at that moment and realized it was the voice of his assistant. "Master Beaumont, I must say, I think he’s yours.” I looked up at him through swollen eyes, but I did not understand the expression on his face or the sentence he just said. I didn’t care. I fell asleep.

I woke up in the nurse’s office in the dungeon, under a blanket. My back felt hot, but numb. They must have put something on it. I was on my side. I tried to sit up. The noise of the blanket gave me away and a man came into the room.
“You’re up,” he said, relieved.
When I heard his voice, I realized it was Master Beaumont. His face was like a charcoal sketch, angles and lines with a sweeping jaw and bright curious eyes. My love for him did not weaken.
“No – no don’t sit,” Master Beaumont instructed. “Your bottom is still quite tender.”
I reclined back down to the pillow. “Yes sir.”
“Good boy,” he said, almost on reflex.

I tried not to weep more. I was completely dry. He gave me more water with a straw in it and had me drink. I felt better.
Master Beaumont said down on a chair next to me. “Peter said to me – that he’s never seen a session like that before. When I was rocking you at the end, he also said you the same expression his dog had when he adopted her from the pound.”
I gazde up at him, smitten, although I didn’t know what to say exactly. “Keep me,” I said.
He let out a slow breath. I knew he wanted to say something, but instead he said nothing and just thought.

I live in his house now. I serve his needs. I serve his body. I care not for my clothing or the importance of a career or some resemblance of identity. All I seek is for him to seek me. Even an offer of his warm hand stretching forward to cup my cheek makes me melt away. I love these simple moments, these delicate caresses when he shows me the same love I feel for him. And if he wants to make me the happiest person in the world, he will add “Good boy” for a job well done. It’s all I’ll need for the rest of my life.

I have broken through, and here, on this side, there is peace.

_________________________________
Text is fictional. Still looking for source.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

porno-graph:

     As things heated up between us, we were getting progressively more careless about doing things in public. Not that we were having sex on the new beds in the furniture section at Macy’s or anything like that. We were starting to hold hands in movies, sneak kisses when we thought we were unobserved.

     It all started to mean a lot to me when I saw how free straight couples were to neck, pet, and do other overtly sexual things in public without any fear of any kind of reprisal. All my life I’d had to hide my feelings from others, to keep my true nature as hidden as I could or risk being beaten up or called unsavory, hurtful names.

     So in the diner, when I realized that no one could see our arms or legs under the table, I put my hand on his hairy knee and just stroked. After a minute, his finger was on my shin, the other hand pressing on mine tightly. That was all that happened, then, but I know I remembered it later when we were alone. I’ll bet he did, too.

Sweet <3

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nobodyknowsthelastofme:

No one will ever see you the way my eyes do

He’s been gazing at me for almost half an hour now. It’s a little unnerving, and sometimes I want to look away. I eventually put down my book and turn my attention to him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just thought I’d have my whole life to lie in bed and look at you, so I’m getting it while I can.”
“Oh god, don’t talk like that, please.” I set my book on the nightstand.
“Well it’s true,” Robert sniffs.
“No…no it’s not. You need to be an optimistic. The doctor said the new drugs work really well.”
“They won’t,” he says, resting his head against my shoulder, “They didn’t help Chris, they didn’t help Marcus, or Jesse. I haven’t met anyone they did help.”
“You’re biased. We’ve gone to three funerals but no parties right? No one is celebrating it, but lots of people have survived this, you just don’t hear about it.”
“Yeah that’s the problem. If more people heard about this, they’d know to be more careful. I should have been more careful…”

I pull Robert into a hug. “Don’t dwell on the past. What’s done is done. We need to focus on the future.”
“What future?” he huffs.
I bite my lip. “Tomorrow. And the day after. Next month. Your birthday. Then the next month…and the next year. Every day we can be together.”
“Won’t you tire of me, when I’m sick and dying?”
“Jesus Robert, stop talking like that! You need to be optimistic.”
“I don’t want to die,” he says softly, his voice cracking.
I embrace him as tight as I can, as if pushing him tight against my rib cage will suppress my own torrent of emotions hiding just behind a low wall.

“Medical science will do what it can, but If…if the time comes, when the drugs don’t work,” I pause to take a deep breathe, “I will be there for you. I won’t abandon you. Even if it costs my job, I’ll be by your side every second.”
I feel Robert’s body jerk as he starts crying into my shirt. “I don’t want to end up like Chris, wearing a stupid suit, in a hole, covered in dirt!”
I wipe tears from my own eyes, feeling futile in my efforts to soothe him, “Then we’ll celebrate instead. We’ll have a big party, lots of alcohol and food. Go go boys.” I reach for a tissue and blow my nose. I shove a second into his hand so he doesn’t get snot on my shirt.
“Like… a disco?”
“Yes. A disco, or a gay cabaret, whatever you want.”
Robert hiccups. “I’d like that. No suits.”
“No no.”

We rest there for so long I think Robert’s fallen asleep. I reach for my book again but he startles me by speaking.
“I’m scared, Justin.”
“I am too,” I say.
“Do you think I’ll live to see 1987?”
“I think so.”
“But it’s a year away.”
“Be optimistic, Robert. The grim reaper hates optimism.”
“Does it like sex?”
“Well…we don’t know anyone that’s died during sex,” I admit.
He looks up at me with red eyes, “Do you still want to fuck me, although I have AIDS?”
“Yes, yes I do. You’re still my lover, and always will be.”
He kisses my chin, a now rare smile on his face. “I’ll go get the condoms.”

I sigh in relief as he slides off the bed to go get them. Deep down, I’m more terrified than he is. The doctor said although my tests are negative, the virus can turn up months later. We had sex twice before Robert got the diagnosis; it was a “gift” from one of his clients. Still, I dread Robert purposely wanting to infect me so we can die together. I can’t be strong for him if I’m wasting away from it too. Someone needs to see Robert’s memory is remembered. I just hope it will happen when he’s 100 and not 30, but my gut feeling tells me he is going to end up another statistic. My poor, poor baby. It’s just not fair.

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Text is fictional.

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I fell in love with Andre watching him pick out produce at my neighborhood’s Farmer’s Market. His concentration, his obsession with perfect, shape, and scent was remarkable. It was actually rather adorable to see a grown man in a fine wool coat admire apples like he was picking out diamond jewelry. I offered to buy him hot cider. He accepted, and we ended up meeting for dinner.

Dating a ballet dancer has its ups and downs – and its side to sides and leaps across the room. When he is not practicing, he’s at the physical therapist; when he’s not getting preventative treatments, there’s rehearsals, costume fittings, photoshoots… busy busy!

After almost a year of this, I told Andre I thought our relationship was strained by not only his schedule, but the fact he lived on the other side of town from me. He was rarely ever home anyway so I suggested, why not move in with me? I could see in his eyes how much he wanted to say yes, to wake up in the morning spooned against me, to receive those backscratches I did so well, to allow more moments for spontaneous sex to happen. He said my house was just a bit too far from the studio to live there together. I told him he meant the world to me, and I would see what I could do. Andre looked puzzled, but his lips curled up at the corners. “Oh really big guy? Show me then.”

Five weeks later, I ushered him blindfolded into my basement. My house was built etched into a hill so the basement half jutted out into the backyard (the top half was really the main level as the driveway connected to it out front). I particularly liked this because it meant the basement had windows and would fill with natural light in late morning. I picked this time to lead Andre down there by his elegant, manicured hands. I ignored his pestering questions and guided him.

“What? What is it baby? What sort of Valentines Day present did you get me?”
Finally I halted him in place. “Not ‘get’, ‘had made’.” I removed the blindfold. Andre’s jaw dropped. I had turned one of my storage rooms into a practice studio for him, all for him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I put my hands up in a reassuring gesture, “Yes, it’s insulated, and I actually hired a woman who specializes in building dance studios. She said it’s all at professional standards, down to how slick the floor is…” but he wasn’t listening, he was just staring.

“Oh my god it’s perfect! It’s PERFECT! I can’t believe you had this made for me!” he screeched, throwing his arms around me and nearly knocking me over.
“Ooof!” I wrapped my arms around his slim, muscular waist and hugged him back. “You said my house was far, so maybe, this might encourage you to come here more often, not spend so much time at the studio all alone?”

His face was beautiful, on the verge of tears. “You want to see me so badly…?”
“Yes baby,” I kissed his full lips. “Don’t laugh, but I fell for you the day I saw you buying apples. I am in real danger of falling into deep, stupid love here and I had to show you I was serious about this relationship.”
He was still looking at everything as if he mildly stunned. I set him down and he walked over to touch the bar and admire himself in the mirror. “It’s just perfect.” Then he did begin to cry in earnest. I held him and kissed him passionately, to tell him it was alright without saying a word.

Remember how I said I knew he wanted more opportunities for spontaneous sex? We ended up christening the studio right there on the brand new floor. I caught Andre watching himself in the mirror as I thrust between his sculpted legs. I knew it pleased him, to see how much I was enjoying myself, to hear our cries mingle and echo in the empty room he’d claim as his own space. This was this thank you gift to me. 

Now, we have dinner together at least four nights a week instead of one or two. Instead of texting Andre, pestering him about if we can hang out, I just stick my head downstairs and announce “dinner’s ready!” and he comes bounding up the stairs like a gazelle. He really might be part gazelle.

I have no idea what I’m going to get him for Valentine’s Day next year, but more than that I’m looking forward to one more magical year together, this time as lovers sharing the same home together. Our home.

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Text is 100% fictional. The dancer is Ricardo Santos in 2007. Source of the photo is here. Santos is a Brazilian dancer, now with the Joffrey Ballet in Chicago (goddamn!).

Video
by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Oh my gosh, this is so wonderful! Such a sweet marriage proposal video <3. Not enough of these. By the way, the video is bigger if you watch it on Vimeo.

(For anyone who isn’t familiar with Los Angeles, West Hollywood is gay central and the home to LA’s most notorious gay bars. At least one of the crosswalks in WeHo is actually painted in rainbow colors. Proud to see such love in my city, fuck yeah LA!)

(Source: https://player.vimeo.com/)