This week, I continue with the story of Stan and Ollie. Last week, by some weird alien twist, Ollie opined that the body in question was near water. And the fun continues! Don't forget to see what the other Briefers are doing, whose links follow my tale! Enjoy!
Stan and Ollie #13
Now you know one of the reasons, albeit not the most important one, that Ollie and I live in the middle of nowhere Texas. He keeps me in such a continual state of excitation that I’m hard put to keep my hands off of him. Works better when we’re alone—we’re not exhibitionists. And I definitely don’t share.
And, in case you’re wondering, before I met him, I was never like this about anyone. No one.
The biggest reason that we live where we do is for his safety, though. Because of his status as an illegal alien par excellence. The kind that couldn’t get a green card if he tried, and would undoubtedly end up as the object of some hideous government experiment.
Okay, now, back to the subject at hand. Think. Bodies of water in or near Cortez, Mississippi.
There’s the pond in the middle of that park we were at. The one where Consuelo’s obviously distraught fiancé flung the single tulip. But obviously not the place, or her body would have been discovered long before now.
“Is it possible that the body’s been weighted down?” I’m thinking aloud now. Sometimes I think I need a filter, when I see my sensitive lover wince.
“I don’t think so. At least, that’s not the impression that I get. Just for a second, though, there was an image…”
I reach for Ollie’s hands, hold them tightly between my own, lending him my strength. He closes his eyes in concentration. “A door. Maybe brass. Or maybe rusted. I can’t tell. Some sort of circular handle…” He suddenly falls limp into my arms, and my heart damn near stops.
I know it’s from the expenditure of energy, and that he’ll be fine, but still… I brush my lips across his pale forehead, and for a long moment simply hold him close, enveloping him in my love. Finally, with a soft sigh, he looks up at me, his head on my shoulder, his lips curling up into a lazy smile, the one I know so well.
“I think we should talk to her fiancé. Prepare him for what’s coming.”
I push back slightly damp tendrils of blond hair. “What will we tell him?” I frown.
I was so afraid he’d say that. I’m not opposed to the truth, mind you, just to anything that’s potentially dangerous for Ollie. Anything that leads back to us, for example.
“It’s the humane thing to do, Stan,” he pleads.
Damn self-righteous alien.
“How do you propose we find him? Look in the Yellow Pages?” I don’t mean to be snarky with him, it just comes out that way. “Do we hit him up at work? What?”
“We may not know where he is at this moment but we know where he will be.”
Ollie nods. “Remember? He drops a tulip in the pond every day.”
Why didn’t I think of that? “That might not be for a while,” I counter.
“You’re right. It might not be.”
“We should find something to do in the meantime.”
He arches a knowing brow at me, while I feign innocence.
“Like maybe head back to the hotel for a quick… lie-down? Let you get your strength back?”
“Is that what they’re calling that these days?” He moves closer to me, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath as his lips hover over my own, and my heart stutters and skips a beat, and suddenly I’ve lost the focus of what I’m saying. So close that I can feel his arousal pressing against me, and I want it so badly I can virtually taste it. I swallow a whimper in the back of my throat.
“Just for a little while… Until you make me feel better…” That’s not what I meant to say at all, he’s got my thoughts all unglued. I meant until he feels better, of course.
“Do I make you feel better, Stan?” His lips just barely touch mine, for a fraction of a second, his words going straight to my cock. Suddenly, his arms are what’s keeping me from sliding to the ground, cause it’s sure not my legs. Now he’s holding me up, and not the other way around.
“Always,” I moan.
If the guys on the force could see me now, they wouldn’t believe it. Officer Stanley Lawrence with a weakness. The cop once known as Hard as Nails Lawrence. The guy who took no shit from anyone, just dished it out. The same guy that never had time for a love life, and didn’t want one. Well, things change; nothing is static. Ollie isn’t just my weakness. He’s my strength. And I don’t care who knows it.
Jeez, sometimes I think I could work for Hallmark.
He traces my lips with the tip of his tongue.
“Ollie…” I groan.
He nuzzles my cheek, the simple touch of his nose against my flesh so erotic that I feel like I’m about to lose control. I swallow… hard.
“Hotel?” is all I’m capable of saying, but it’s enough, as our eyes meet and he kisses me, sending electric charges shooting through every inch of my body, every single synapse alight with the sensations that he produces .
Can anyone say afternoon delight?
He eases me onto my feet and, once he’s sure I’m properly balanced, he threads our fingers together, and we begin to walk in the direction of the hotel. I see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but Ollie… Talk about extreme tunnel vision.
“Where are you two going?” An angry hiss, disguised as a female. We damn near run into her, so oblivious are we to our surroundings.
“Go away,” I snarl. I try to kick at her without hitting Ollie, but he intercepts my attempt.
“Patience,” he whispers, turning to Xylina. “You have news?”
She glares at me, but offers him a smile. “Yes,” she purrs.
“There is no baby…”
to be continued
Now visit my fellow Wednesday Briefers:
MA Church m/m
Elyzabeth VaLey m/f
Lily Sawyer m/m
Chris T. Kat m/m
Cia Nordwell m/m
MC Houle m/m
Until next time, take care!