The stairs appeared steeper than usual, longer. JD stepped onto the first tread and slowly began to climb. He was only halfway when he had to grab the steel rail for assistance; the metal felt like cold comfort against his palm. He caught a hint of a cool breeze when he reached the top stair, as if he'd just succeeded in climbing from hell up to heaven, though the inside of his head still felt as if it were filled with smoldering ashes. JD turned left and headed toward his apartment.He stood outside the door for a few moments, shifting his motorcycle helmet to his other hand before digging into his pants pocket. But before he could even touch the key to the lock, the door swung open.
"Hey, kid," Buck said with a wide grin. JD made an effort at smiling in return as he trudged inside. Buck immediately relieved him of his helmet, jacket, and backpack before asking, "So, how'd it go?"
JD bared his teeth for a moment before saying, "All clean." He'd only just gotten the words out when Buck leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. JD staggered back a step, but Buck's hands were on his shoulders in an instant, steadying him. Buck deepened the kiss, and JD didn't have the energy to fight him off.
"Ahh ... clean *and* minty fresh," Buck said, once he'd finally pulled away. "Show me what you brung home."
JD held out the toothbrush and sample tube of tartar-control toothpaste the dentist had given him after his check-up. Buck took the items and gave them a cursory glance before turning his attention back to JD. He stared for a moment before frowning. "What's wrong?"
JD shook his head. It wasn't that he minded having a little fun with Buck; the man was pretty good at lifting his spirits and helping him blow off a little steam, but he just wasn't in the mood today.
"Come on ... you can tell ol' Buck. That pretty lil' hygienist down at Dr. Burker's office not notice them tight pants of yours?" Buck reached out and patted JD's denim-covered hip. "Or did you really want a blue toothbrush instead of a purple one?"
JD shook his head again. It wasn't any of those things.
"You feel all right?"
JD closed his eyes. "Got a headache."
It had been one of those springs: a succession of cool, wet days followed by hot, windy ones. Even people who didn't normally suffer from seasonal allergies were having a time of it this year. JD's own allergies hadn't been bad, but he'd been taking the full, prescribed dose of antihistamines instead of the usual half. But, today, even that hadn't been enough. A sharp throbbing had been slowly growing just behind his eyes since leaving the dentist's office and, stuck on the road, he hadn't been able to do anything about it.
JD felt his friend's hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so gently. When Buck spoke again, his voice was quiet. "Grab yourself a bottle of water from the fridge and meet me in back."
JD nodded. He toed off his boots and left them by the door before heading into the kitchen. He pulled out a sport bottle of the Rocky Mountains' finest and took a long, slow pull, allowing the cool liquid to numb the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat. Then, he pressed the water bottle against his forehead, but it was too cold and after a few moments his head seemed to throb just a little harder. With a groan, JD pushed himself toward the back of the apartment.
Buck was waiting for him in the hall, just outside the bathroom. He was holding out his palm, offering JD two white tablets, two blue liquid-filled capsules, and one small, peach-colored pill. JD took them without question, knowing what they all were: aspirin, decongestants, and an antihistamine. JD filled his mouth with water from the sport bottle before handing it to Buck. Then, JD pushed each pill between his lips before tilting his head back and swallowing the lot. Buck gave a sniff of a laugh as he shook his head, but JD didn't care if the man thought the way he swallowed pills was funny; it worked — he didn't gag or choke — and that was all that mattered right now.
Then JD looked toward his bedroom. He wanted to lie down, but the afternoon sun was glaring full into his room, bathing the unmade bed in light so bright that it hurt his eyes even though he was standing halfway down the hall. JD knew that closing the drapes now wouldn't help; the room would be too stuffy and warm to do him any good, and even if he did sleep, he'd only wake up feeling worse than he did already. He wondered if Buck would mind if he took a nap on the couch, or if his being there would keep Buck from doing whatever it was that he was planning to do that evening.
"Use my room," Buck said after a moment.
JD glanced up at Buck, and then around him, through the open doorway. He could only see a sliver of the bedroom from where he stood, but it looked cool and inviting. He knew Buck's room caught the morning sun and that it had been sitting in shade for the better part of the day.
"You sure?"
Buck's hand slipped around JD's waist, as if he were going to hug him, but instead, JD felt himself being gently shoved toward the room. "Go."
JD nodded and headed down the hall. As he went, he undid his belt and even released the button at the waistband of his jeans. Inside the room, the shaded walls radiated a silent calm, like blue skies above a green field, and JD let out a small sigh as he pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the carpet near the foot of the bed. He lay down, not bothering to stifle the groan when his back came in contact with the coolness of the smooth, cotton comforter.
He flung an arm over his eyes, blocking out the low light, and willed himself to relax. But his peace lasted only a few minutes.
He couldn't help but hear Buck's feet moving over the shag carpeting as he entered the room — his room, so JD had a difficult time faulting the man for the disturbance. He wondered if Buck had simply come to retrieve something and whether he would do so quickly and quietly.
"JD?" he heard the man whisper. "Brought you this."
JD pulled his arm from across his eyes and looked up at Buck who was standing beside the bed, holding out a washcloth. He reached up. The cloth felt damp and cool against his fingers. JD smiled.
"Thanks."
He laid the cloth over his face, with only his mouth and the tip of his nose exposed. Then he pressed the cloth gently against his eyelids and sighed again. Both the darkness and coolness that covered his lids felt heaven-sent; JD's body relaxed this time without being told.
He heard feet on the carpet again and thought Buck was leaving until he felt a weight settle on the foot of the mattress.
What now? he wondered, but he didn't say anything.
He felt Buck's hands on one ankle, tugging the sock from his foot. Then the hands moved to his other ankle and pulled off the other sock. When he felt a cool breeze across his bare skin, he couldn't help but wiggle his toes. A moment later, he felt Buck grab hold of his left foot. JD tensed slightly. He didn't truly believe that Buck would choose this moment to torture him with tickles, but Buck possessed an element of spontaneity; the man had a difficult time passing up a sweet opportunity, and what better one than this?
But, instead of tickles, JD felt blunt nails across the top of his foot, scratching over the embossed weave the fabric of the sock had left on his skin. He pointed his toes, encouraging Buck to continue; the sensation left him gasping and breathless. After a minute, he wiggled his other foot and soon Buck was scratching that one, until JD let out a satisfied groan.
Then he felt Buck's hands move upward to slowly massage his ankle. Buck had incredible hands and he knew well how to use them. JD had been on the receiving end of his ministrations many times and he was glad the man was so generous. Soon, Buck was massaging his other ankle and JD wished he'd thought to remove his pants, so that Buck could work the tired muscles of his legs as well.
This thought must have also occurred to Buck, because a few minutes later, the man had unzipped JD's pants and was tugging them off by the cuffs. JD lifted his hips slightly, until the fabric slipped passed his ass, and then settled again as Buck pulled the pants from his legs. JD heard the fabric land softly on the floor and imagined they were now in a pile on top of his shirt and socks. This made him smile. Buck liked his room tidy — in sharp contrast to how JD kept his own room — so it always surprised JD when clothes ended up in scattered piles on the floor. It surprised JD even more when those clothes belonged to him. On occasion, he wondered how this had all come about: how he came to find himself in these situations with Buck.
JD liked girls. So did Buck. JD had thought the man was obsessed with them when they'd first met, but it turned out that Buck was just a very tactile person. Hedonistic, Ezra called it. JD knew what the term meant, even though Josiah had felt the need to explain it to him anyway, but JD didn't think it was quite the right word. Sure, Buck loved to be touched — he loved to be hugged and back-slapped and wrestled — and he loved having sex, but he loved giving pleasure as well, sometimes even more than receiving it. This, apparently, was one of those times.
JD felt Buck running his hands up and down his calves, gently at first — Buck's fingertips just feathering over the hairs on his legs — but then more firmly, until his fingers were kneading into JD's muscles, easing away the stress and strain of the day. JD relaxed even further, allowing his mind to wander.
It was dark inside his head, cool and quiet. There was a soft breeze, which he knew was really the sound of Buck breathing, even if he chose not to think about it. He imagined it was late at night, that the hands on his legs, brushing over his skin, were ocean waves lapping onto the beach where he lay as lazy clouds, like lost souls, veiled the ghostly white of the full moon high above.
But he wasn't alone on this beach. He was never alone — not since he'd joined the team, not since he'd met Buck — not unless he wanted to be, and right now, he realized that he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want not to feel the hands on his body, touching him, massaging him, pressing along his skin until it tingled.
In the distance he heard a sharp, crinkling sound. He was tempted to pull the washcloth away from his face and look, but forced himself to stay where he was. Instead, he imagined it was the crushing of ice that was about to be poured into a glass and bathed in some sweet mixture of pureed fruit and alcohol expressly for his refreshment; he just hoped the drink didn't contain pineapple juice.
JD felt Buck's weight shift on the bed; he was sitting beside him now, instead of at his feet. A moment later, he felt Buck's hands ghosting up his arm, over his shoulder, to the side of his face. He felt Buck's soft breath against his ear. "Shh," the man whispered and JD felt the washcloth being lifted away.
He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to and he didn't think Buck wanted him to either. He felt a breeze waft across his face and imagined that Buck was fanning him with a palm frond. A few minutes later, the washcloth was laid over his face again; it was now as cool as it had been when Buck first brought it to him. Then JD felt moist lips press against his own — not demanding or rough or even firm. They were soft lips that lightly caressed his own. His bottom lip was barely licked by the tip of Buck's tongue.
JD felt Buck's mustache brush over his upper lip as his lower lip was tugged gently between Buck's teeth. Then the touch was gone.
JD slowly released the breath he'd been holding. He moved his arms up over his head and stretched out his legs. Already he could feel that the ache behind his eyes was easing. There was a slight swirl to the darkness that he knew was the effect of the decongestant; it wasn't enough to make him nauseous or even dizzy, but it was enough to give his limbs a vague, disconnected feeling, as if, at any moment, they might simply float off the mattress like helium-filled balloons.
When he felt something smooth and cool moving over his arm, JD puzzled over the source of the sensation. It wasn't Buck's fingers or even his tongue, of that he was certain, but what else could it be? JD felt it again, tracing patterns — circles, swirls, squiggles — down this arm, over the thin skin on the inside of his elbow, down to his wrist and then up again. The smoothness changed slightly; it became thinner, like an edge, but rounded rather than sharp, before turning into something more delicate, less solid but still firm.
JD scrunched his eyes for a moment as he pondered what Buck was doing to him, but then his head began to throb again and he had to remind himself to relax. He trusted Buck — with his life ... or as far as he could throw him, whichever came first — and, at the moment, that meant letting whatever was going to happen just happen.
The sensation feathered over his skin, becoming a gentle scratching, and without another thought JD knew: Buck was using the toothbrush he'd brought home from the dentist. He smiled as he pictured the purple bristles being drawn over his skin.
The bristles moved up his arm, over his shoulder, and then down his chest, spiraling, closing in, until JD felt a gentle, insistent rubbing over his nipple, which he could feel tightening into a small, hard nub. The brush was now drawn along the side, rather than the top, of his nipple and sparks of sensation lanced downward, directly into his groin. It felt incredible and JD groaned with appreciation.
The brush spiraled out again only to converge around his other nipple, sending more sensations to his swelling penis. Feeling warm and constricted, JD shifted his hips slightly, parting his legs. A moment later, he felt a cooling breeze brush across his balls and it was precisely what he needed at that moment.
The bristles of the brush were moving down his stomach now — over the slight definition of peaks and valleys he'd been working so hard to define these past months. The brush circled around his belly button, then scraped over it while proceeding even further south. The brush traveled over his hipbone and the sensation, so close to his crotch, was maddening. He wanted more, but the brush kept moving downward: down his thigh, down the outside of his knee, down his calf to his foot. Then, the bristles scraped over the top skin and, this time, the sensation was almost a tickle. JD curled his toes and the brush began to move upward, over his ankle, up his calf, across the inside of his knee, which was a good deal more sensitive than the skin on the opposite side, and then up his inner thigh.
All the while, JD's dick kept swelling and the ache at the root, which throbbed in time with his heartbeat, was spreading. The bristles were drawn back up his hip, and round, tracing the outline of his dick without any real contact. He wanted to tell Buck to touch him. He wanted to feel Buck's hands on him, massaging his dick, as his feet and legs had been massaged, but he was afraid to push things. He was afraid Buck would lose interest if he suddenly tried to direct the man's actions. Buck liked to do what Buck liked to do, even if he was doing it for someone else's pleasure.
JD lifted the washcloth from this face, but did not open his eyes. He fanned himself with the cloth, cooling the material in the process, and then laid it over his eyes again. Not seeing what Buck was doing was something JD had never experienced before. And not knowing what Buck would do next, while a bit frustrating, was still very exciting. As usual, JD realized that when it came to such things, Buck was, without a doubt, the expert.
As the scraping, caressing bristles of the toothbrush continued their journey over his skin, JD opened his legs wide and was finally rewarded with a brush across his testicles. He felt them react instantly: tightening, pulling up closer to his body, as a singing sensation radiated outward from his crotch. He felt like a violin with the strings stretched taut as Buck played over him, sending vibrations into his core as the man coaxed from him a very private melody.
The brush swept upward now, gently along the length of JD's hard dick. He was afraid to move, afraid to encourage more contact, knowing those stiff bristles would poke into his sensitive skin if he made the wrong move at the wrong moment. As it was, he felt poised on the edge of a razor — the sensations just a breath away from being painful, just a shadow from torturous.
The brush painted across his tip, and then slipped just underneath the ridge of the glans before traveling crookedly, as if following the intricate course of a vein, down over his balls, which tightened again, and then back, scraping across the smooth patch of skin behind his sac. JD lifted his knees and the brush traveled around and around his hole, but never touched it.
He suddenly became aware of an itch he hadn't realized needed scratching. The brush sent a tickle over his skin only making things worse.
"Harder," JD breathed before he could stop himself. The brush pushed and pulled across his skin with a little more force. "Harder...." More sensation became concentrated around his hole and it helped, but deep inside it still wasn't enough. "More ... please."
The brush continued, back and forth, around the tight ring of muscle as JD's mind began to swim in a sea of swirling blackness beneath the damp washcloth. Then, the toothbrush scraped directly over his hole and JD's head nearly exploded. He wanted to come. He wanted it all to happen right now. He didn't care if the stiff bristles would tear through the delicate tissues inside him; he just needed to feel that same sensation, that caressing scratch deep within.
The brush was removed and instantly replaced by something smooth and wet. It wasn't anything JD wanted, but he felt the slim object being pushed inside and twisted around. He wanted to whine Buck's name, to tell him what he wanted, but his mind refused to form the words.
Then the smoothness was gone and something firmer was pushed into him. It wasn't the business end of the toothbrush, JD knew that immediately, but it wasn't smooth or soft like a finger either. Nubs and ridges bumped over and past his ring of muscle and the sensations were nearly satisfying. It had to be the handle Buck had inserted — the handle with the textured rubber grip. JD smiled; he never would have thought to do such a thing.
The small handle didn't fill him, nor was it pushed deep enough to hit his prostate, but JD didn't care. The friction of the grip moving in and out of his hole, grinding against the ring of muscle, was more than enough, until JD felt warm, slick fingers wrap around his cock and then he realized nothing would be enough until he came.
Buck's hand moved in perfect synchronicity with the thrusts of the toothbrush. JD felt him working his fingers up the length, around the ridge, over the head, and across the slit. Each stroke pulled JD closer; each squeeze pushed him forward. He felt his balls tighten again. He felt his dick swelling and hardening. His ass muscles clenched, increasing his contact with the knurled handle of the toothbrush, which continued to move in and out, sending rippling waves through his lower body.
And then all his muscles seemed to cramp, seizing in an instant only to explode the next as cum began to spurt from his tip. JD felt the warm droplets splatter on his stomach. He felt Buck's hand milking him, drawing the seed up his length. And that was all he felt, until Buck's soft mouth engulfed his dick, gently suckling the jizz and easing JD back down to earth.
It was many minutes before JD felt Buck's weight shift on the mattress. The man was beside him now, so close that JD could feel his warm breath against his ear.
"Close your eyes," Buck said softly.
JD did as he was told as Buck removed the washcloth from his face.
"Just lie here. I'll be back with a fresh cloth."
JD nodded as he felt Buck's weight shift again. Then the warm, damp cloth was plied to his stomach and his flagging dick as Buck wiped away the last of the creamy spooge. Then JD felt Buck leave the bed and heard his soft footsteps moving away across the carpeted floor.
It was only now that JD remembered why he'd been lying down in the first place: a headache. But, the throbbing was gone and all that remained was the faintest of pressures behind his eyes and a phantom ache. He wondered how he might chase away the last of the pain. Maybe if he laid here a while longer ... maybe if he had a fresh washcloth against his face ... maybe if he could convince Buck to bring him off again....
The End
June 2003Please do NOT repost this story anywhere, for any reason.Much thanks to Rhonda for kindly beta-reading this story.Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.