Thursday, February 14, 2013
“Valentine’s Day is around the corner,” Max said after taking a slug of his beer. “What do you think is the bullet-proof way to go; taking the romantic sensitive route or banging your woman’s brains out until she can’t walk straight?”
James turned to him. Cole too.
“I didn’t know these were mutually exclusive,” James said. “I’d say start with the first; then move fast to the second. Why? You need tips?”
That would be the day their slut of a brother would need tips for impressing a woman.
“Nope. I ask because we need to help this bozo out,” Max said pointing at Cole. “It’s his first Valentine’s Day. He’s bound to fuck it up in record time. It took him 37 years to find a woman who could put up with his sorry ass. We can’t let him mess it up all now. We need to make sure he has a bullet-proof plan.”
“That’s right,” James said, clapping his older brother’s back. “You’re a Valentine’s Day virgin, aren’t you?”
“You can call it that,” he muttered.
And wasn’t that the mother of all understatements. Before falling for Christy, Cole wouldn’t fuck the same woman two nights in a row, much less make it to any anniversaries or marked dates. No Christmases, no birthdays, no anything with them. Hell, James wasn’t sure Cole even talked to them before or after fucking them senseless. Now though he had a fiancé he was crazy about. And he found himself muddling his way through a world of tricky traditions and painful firsts.
“Finally someone is going to pop his Valentine’s Day cherry, can you believe it?” Max said. “The damn thing must be petrified by now though, Christy better get herself a hammer.”
“Smart ass,” Cole growled. “Don’t need your bullet-proof plans. I can keep my own woman without your help.”
“Sure you can keep your own woman. Tied to the bed you can.”
Cole’s growl got louder; Max’s grin got bigger.
“Just saying, man.” He lifted his hands in mocked surrender. “You need to mix it up a bit.”
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I do mix it up.”
“Don’t tell me Christy got her own whip now.”
James chuckled. Man, seeing Max poke at Cole never got old. They were so different, but really, when shit hit the fan they were so fucking similar. Dependable, loyal men he was proud to call his brothers.
Cole’s glare left no doubt what he thought about the whip crack. Yeah, he might be mellower, but just marginally. Very marginally.
“Do your face a favor and harass the married man here,” Cole said.
Max just laughed and turned to James. “What are you getting for Tate? This is your first Valentine’s Day as a married man, whatever you do, it will set precedent.”
“Well, you know those mold-a-dick thingies? I’m getting one for her.”
Both his brothers all but choked and spewed their beers in the process.
“Kidding,” James laughed. “Although I’m reserving that one for our wedding anniversary.” Among other presents, that is. He wasn’t totally insane.
Max barked a laugh. “Man, if you mold your dick and give it to your wife as a present on Valentine’s Day, or any other important date for that matter, she will take the cast and beat the shit out of you with it.”
Well, maybe yes, maybe no. He’d take his chances. Doubtfully she’d be capable of too big a damage after he’d make her come all night long with his mouth and dick. Or ‘dicks’ he should say. And never mind how over the top his macho tripping, Tate always went along with it with a smile on her lips.
“And you guys think I’m the one in need of help? Please,” Cole snorted, but Max ignored him.
“What is it, James; are you jealous of your woman’s toys now so you need to clone yourself?”
“Nope. Jut mixing it up,” James said with a grin.
He wasn’t jealous of Tate’s toys. Since Elle organized for her that Pleasure Party and his woman came home with a basket full of them, she’d let him use them on her often enough, but well, there were things only two cocks could accomplish. There was no way in hell any other man was getting close to Tate, so yeah, welcome mold-a-dick. Not that he was going to say a word. Whatever Tate and he did behind closed doors – or wherever the mood struck as long as nobody saw – was none of their business.
Max shook his head. “Man you are both kinky fuckers.”
Cole and James snorted. Sure, like Max was Mother frigging Theresa.
“So what about your Valentine’s?
Max was looking intently at James so he gave up. “Okay, I’m pulling all the stops, you happy? Romantic supper, a show downtown and then I’m bringing her back here, lay her on the grass in the backyard and try pointing to her the star I got named after her.”
“That’s a married man for you,” Max said to Cole. “Live and learn. Totally pussy-whipped.”
He’d known he was going to get his ass busted if his brothers found out about this, but honestly? He didn’t give a shit. Tate was going to love it, and that was all that mattered.
“You got a star named after her? What did you call it; Tate 347?”
“Not exactly, no,” James said.
“So what’s the name?” Cole prompted.
Max lifted his brows. “Come one, you told us how you plan to give your wife a mold-a-dick, but you won’t tell us how you named her star?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
He wasn’t explaining to them where the name Pirate Princess came from. No fucking way was he discussing his wife’s pierced pussy with his brothers.
“Well, you got the romantic route down pat, that’s for sure. What else are you doing; spreading rose petals on the sheets?”
“I don’t think we’ll make it to the bed.”
He knew his woman. And himself. It was going to be a frigging miracle if they made it back inside the house before he fucked her senseless in the yard.
Max seemed to read his mind.
“You’re going the romantic route and banging her brains out too. Clever, my man. I hope Mrs. Ramsden’s hearing device will be low on batteries that night.”
James too. As a matter of fact he was going to personally make those batteries disappear. And hide her binoculars. Just to be on the safe side.
“What about you?” James asked turning to Cole. “You said you need no help. What have you got planned for Christy?”
“I’ve got to tell you, the mold-a-dick idea sounds good.”
Max shook his head in dismay. “Man, she’s agreed to marry you, but you haven’t closed the deal yet. James may get away with it, you won’t. He’s after all, officially a husband. Women take a lot of shit from their husbands. Not so much for their fiances. I suggest you get Christy jewelry. The more expensive the better.”
“Nah, my woman is a geek. Jewelry doesn’t work with her.”
Cole had messed up a couple of times in these past six months with Christy. Thank God she loved him, because his bro sure was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. Still, one couldn’t be without commiserating with the guy; he’d learned the hard way that buying her off with expensive shit didn’t work with Christy. Opening up did.
“I’m flying her down to Vegas,” he said.
Cole let out a slow breath, ran his hand through his hair. “They are hosting some freaky Star Trek convention, you know, celebrating the pre-view of the second new Start Trek movie. I’ve been hearing Christy talk about it for a fucking month already. All her geek friends from LA are going, so I’m taking her.”
James looked at Cole, then at his brother Max and exploded into laughter. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
James tried to sober up, but failed miserably. “I don’t know what worries me more; that you are going to a Star Trek convention, or that you know the second Star Trek movie is being pre-viewed.”
“Tell me about it. Even Klingon doesn’t sound so weird to me any more. Sick, really,” Cole muttered. “Anyhow, I’ve got us a room at the Venetian. I’m hoping to keep her entertained enough that she’d prefer staying in it with me than going out.”
“So you plan to fuck her into submission. Or into exhaustion, whatever comes first, uh?”
“Damn right. Do you have a problem with it?”
“Nope,” James chuckled. “Great plan. Tried it a time or two myself.”
“Rate of success?” His marine brother asked matter-of-factly.
“Not that high I’m afraid.” He’d managed to fuck Tate into exhaustion many times, true, but fucking her into submission hadn’t worked yet, not in any lasting form.
If his older brother didn’t want Christy out of that hotel room, he could easily keep her in, but Christy wasn’t without talents of her own. And she didn’t need a whip for that. All she had to do was smile. He’d seen it.
Cole muttered something under his breath. “If it can’t be helped, I’ll go with her to the convention, but I’m drawing the line at dressing up.”
Silence. Then Max cleared his throat. “I heard they opened a sci-fi sex club in Vegas, you know, for those who like their sex… theme oriented. Maybe you can go there with her,” Max said, his shoulders shaking from laughter.
Cole’s glare was murderous. “Not fucking dressing up.”
“Aww, come on. Rent the vulcan outfit. Just in case,” Max said. “For the sake of bullet proofing the whole thing. I could download you some info on Vulcan nueropressure massages. You know, to keep it real.”
“Neuropressure massages?” James managed to get out in between laughs.
Max waived at him. “Not clear on it. Something to do with their pointy ears, I think.”
As James and Max laughed their asses off, Christy and Tate came back from the house. James grabbed Tate and settled her on his lap, wrapping himself around her and breathing her in. She fitted perfectly in his arms, as if she were made to be there. She turned to him and kissed him, her eyes full of tenderness. Fuck, how did he get so damn lucky?
Christy encircled her arms around Cole from behind and kissed his jaw. “What were these two laughing about?”
“Nothing,” his older brother grumbled. “Just setting some things straight.”
“Your kick-ass phone’s got that super-mega-pixel camera, right?” Max asked turning to her.
“Just don’t go anywhere without it this week. Promise. We want full coverage. Anything that strikes you as… unusual, please take a pic.”
Max didn’t really have to insist. Christy went nowhere without her eGizmos. Not that there was a snowball's chance in hell Cole would ever dress up, no, but getting to see pictures of him surrounded by sci-fi geeks was going to be fucking memorable. Max was probably going to frame the pics. He may too.
“And you,” he said to Tate, his face splitting in a devilish smirk. “I hope your molding skills are up to date. Because really, some things, when broken, are impossible to repair, never mind how much clay you put on it.”
“What are you talking about?” Tate asked, intrigued.
“Nothing,” James and Cole all but barked at the same time while trying to smack their little brother.
“We’re trying to figure women out,” he explained. “What, in your opinion, would be the best Valentine’s Day present ever?”
“We’re easy to please, any small detail will do,” Tate said.
The collective male snort was loud.
“It’s true,” Christy added coming out in her defence.
“Yeah right. Any small detail will do, my ass,” Max began. “Let’s put it this way: what do my poor bros have to do for Valentine’s Day so that their Steak and BJ Day in a month will be memorable and won’t degrade into a handy and a hamburger?”
“Max,” James growled, but Tate and Christy didn’t take offence; as a matter of fact they were laughing.
“Like you’d have a complaint about it,” Tate whispered to him.
James cupped her neck and kissed her. No, he had no complaints whatsoever about their last 14th of March. He got a big juicy steak, served by a naked Tate, with two small red bows on her nipples and one slightly bigger on her waxed pussy. Then he got a big, juicy… yeah, well. No complaints whatsoever. And the best part? He didn’t get it only on March 14th.
“Steak and BJ day?” Cole asked, seemingly confused.
Christy whispered something in his ear. His eyes flashed.
“We are so going for that tradition,” he said.
Max’s smirk was blinding. “Another cherry for Christy to pop, uh?”
“You better shut up,” Cole snarled. “Or it’ll be me smashing your fucking cherries.”
Max laughed. “Sorry, man. You’re too late. Got no cherries left to smash.”
© Elle Aycart, December 2013
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