Ford Joseph was tired. Not yet thirty-five, he was burnt out on life, weary to his soul, just plain exhausted, mentally and physically. He wanted something different, a life where he could go to a movie and share a ginormous bag of popcorn, large soda, and king-size candy bar with a man without worrying about how many hours he would have to spend working out the next day to keep his boyish figure.
When he started out in this business as an old-for-his-age-looking seventeen-year-old, he got a hard-on every time he saw his image in print, whether it be a book cover, a catalog, and a magazine. By his mid-twenties, he had outgrown the young, slender twink look and photographers stopped asking for him. When that happened, he followed his manager’s advice, took a year off from modeling, and practically moved into the gym where he bulked up.
After returning to active modeling, he spent half his day in the gym, and a lot of the rest of his time promoting his new bigger, bulkier image with very little time for actually modeling. Nowadays his paychecks were bigger, and after the FSoG phenomenon, it seemed that every author wanted him on their covers. He had even been hired as eye candy at a number of romance writers’ conventions where he was hugged and fawned over by hundreds, and sometimes thousands of women.
After nearly twenty years in the business, he was ready for something new. Having tried a few years earlier, he did not have the patience to be an actor or a fitness trainer and healthy-living guru to the wealthy and insane. At least he had always lived frugally and invested most of his earnings so he could, if he wanted, take some time off while he tried to figure out what he wanted to be now that he had apparently finally grown up.
Lying in his bed in his loft apartment, he tried not to look at the treadmill he had ignored for the last two days. He would deal with it tomorrow. He would deal with everything tomorrow. Tonight, he would sleep. Reaching for the small bottle on the small table beside the bed, he opened it and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of the lavender essential oil it contained. As he did, he tried to clear his mind and bring into focus a picture of the life he wanted next.
It would be a simple life with a man who wasn’t crazy, high-maintenance, or looking for a trophy husband. A man who was real, nice, and who understood he was more than his pecs and abs.
Looking out the window, he could not see the stars for the lights of the city, but he knew they were out there, somewhere. Having used visualization and the law of attraction to get this far in life, Ford decided it was only right to put the magic of the universe to work once more, this time to move forward with changing his life.
Rolling over, Ford stared across the loft and pictured the man of his dreams. The fact that he looked a lot like one of his favorite authors might or might not be a coincidence. “I will be forever grateful for the successes of my past, and I am eternally grateful for my new life to come with a kind, gentle, creative man like Skyler Walker, who wants to share a lifetime of love, laughter and simple joys with me. Namaste.”
Closing his eyes, he envisioned Skyler Walker, an author he had talked with face-to-face for a few minutes at a conference the previous spring. The little writer was sweet, but shy, and seemed out-of-place at the wild party of a conference. While shaking his hand, Ford had felt something his in soul rise up.
As soon as he returned home, he began cyberstalking the man. He bought every one of his e-books and read them, several times, seeing bits and pieces of the man in each story of love and romance and hot, hot sex. When it came to those white-hot sex scenes, he wondered how much Skyler had actually experienced, and how much were dreams and fantasies.
After friending the man on social media, Ford made it a point to check his page daily, reading the entries, and liking the ones that spoke to him. Which meant he liked them all. Skyler seemed to do the same, though neither had made contact privately until just recently.
They seemed of a like mind and Skyler often posted insightful comments that made Ford think about and look at things from a different perspective. In his mind, Skyler had become the perfect man for him, even though he hated exercise and, as prolific as he was, had to be spending most of his time in front of a computer screen.
Ford smiled at the thought of being with Skyler. “I’d like Skyler Walker, please, or at least a man just like him,” he whispered to the universe as he drifted into sleep.
His wandering fingers traced their way back up Ford’s chest, finding and tweaking a nub of male nipple. He smiled when his dream-woobie sucked a breath and the arm tightened even further. Before Skyler could find the other one, the man shifted them until Skyler ended up on his back and Ford lay half covering him.
“Feeling playful, eh?” he asked, his tone remaining soft, though intense.
“Maybe,” Skyler murmured.
Though he wanted to open his eyes and look at Ford, he was so tired, and his eyelids refused to cooperate. Besides, if he opened his eyes, he would probably wake himself and then the dream would be over before they could get to the good stuff.
When lips brushed across his, Skyler reached up, found Ford’s shoulders, and traced his way to the base of his neck. Sliding his arms around Ford’s neck, he lifted his head to follow when the man tried to pull away. “More,” he breathed.
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll give you more,” Ford said, sounding more than a little amused. “And after I relax your bones, I’m going to snuggle you close and sleep holding you in my arms like I did with my woobie when I was a kid.”
Woobie. That word made Skyler sure this was a dream. Surely big, buff, sexy Ford Joseph would not talk about having a woobie. That was all his sister’s influence. But wasn’t he supposed to use Ford as a woobie, not the other way around?
Before he could think too hard, a warm hand began pushing on his sleep pants. With his cooperation, they were pushed down around his thighs, and then Ford was exploring his body. Except he didn’t stop at his hipline as Skyler had. His fingers traced random patterns all the way to his thighs. When he made a soft sound of distress, Ford shushed him, his lips returning to Skyler’s after a quick foray down his body as well.
He didn’t realize how hard he had become until fingers wrapped around his cock and began to stroke up and down his long, slim prick. Ford took his time and occasionally rubbed the pad of his thumb over the slit at the top, before sliding down again, then further to cup and roll his balls, then traveling even further to brush over Skyler’s back hole. Then those talented, torturing fingers slowly moved back up and began to cycle all over again.
This time as Ford stroked his cock, Skyler lifted his hips to drive himself through the man’s grasping fingers. He was reaching a peak at an alarming rate, but before he could get off, Ford moved his fingers away again, back to his balls, which he fondled for several racing heartbeats before dropping further between his legs to trace circles around Skyler’s asshole, though he did not press for entrance. It was as if he were determined to tease Skyler to death.
“Please,” Skyler whimpered, “Need. More.”
Ford pulled his arm from under Skyler’s head, and then lifted the hand from his lower body. Skyler gave a whine of disapproval, which earned a chuckle just before a tongue licked the underside of his cock from balls to slit. Then the mouth opened and took the head in.
Panting, his entire body growing tighter by the second, Skyler didn’t know what else to do but beg. “Oh, God. More. Please.”
Ford lifted his head just long enough to say, “Oh, babe, I know exactly how you feel.”
A moment later, Ford’s mouth slid down, down, down, until his lips were pressed against the hairy thatch that surrounded the base of Skyler’s cock. He moaned as his hips flexed, and contracted, pulsing deeper into Ford’s mouth as tingles began to run down his spine and gather in his balls.
Grabbing the sheet, Skyler tried to hold onto any slim thread of control, but between the mouth sucking at him so perfectly and the fingers stroking over and around his puckered star, he could not stop from flying. With a cry, he pushed his cock deeper into Ford’s mouth before holding steady and crying as his orgasm pulsed through him. Ford swallowing his fluids had him spurt once more.