Two Strong Men On Jupiter Pt 3

After a few unsuccessful attempts I was able to slide my head inside. Deacon grunted and trembled, but not too much. I pulled back and then slid forward again, forcing more of myself into the bulky ass before me.

Part 1 | Part 2



As usual, I began to stir before Deacon the next morning. He was still here beside me, though had turned onto his stomach and was drooling slightly on one of my pillows. I found him to be ridiculously cute and reached into the pocket of my jacket on the floor next to the bed to grab my personal device. I took a picture of Deacon and allowed myself a small smile. I tucked the smartscreen away on the shelf behind my head where it was normally kept and bumped one of the marshall’s pictures. I extended my arm back over my head and pulled the framed photograph down to my chest to look at it more closely. It was the one of Eilie, sitting on the bench, turning away. I had actually woken up thinking about her, or more accurately, the life she had shared with Deacon and what it might have been like. She had fine features, pretty, I couldn’t deny her beauty. Something about the shape of her ears though, the lips, even her nose in profile was oddly familiar. It took longer than it should have for me to see that her features were much like my own, and not just the passing similarities of our shared race. I set the frame carefully back in its alcove and lay there on my back in the tiny room, thoughtful.

I sat up in the bed and pulled down my sketchbook and a pencil. I wanted to keep the marshall company even as he slept and began to sketch a picture. I had an idea in my head, simple, but I wanted it to be detailed too. I grabbed my device and looked up a picture on it for reference. After a half hour or so I felt like I had gotten it about right. I softly tore the page from the book and folded it in half, tucking it into the back of the alcove on top of my closed artbook.

It was a Saturday today which meant we both had the day off and didn’t have to be rudely awakened by alarms, which was always a welcome change to my new routine. Though I was wide awake I had no intention of leaving the bed, not until Deacon did at least. Sometime later he began to grumble and stretch for a minute or so before finally opening his eye. It was bloodshot of course and his eyebrow raised when he focused on me, lying beside him.

“Morning, Henry.” I said.

He pushed up to his elbows and quickly glanced around the room to get his bearings.

“Why am I in here?” He asked in a startled voice.

“You brought me in here to sleep last night.” I explained calmly.

“Why’d you call me Henry?” He asked.

“You told me to, though you obviously don’t remember that either.” I said, watching his reactions.

The marshall let his head fall back into the pillow. “I really don’t.” Came a muffled voice from the pillow.

“You remember our fight?” I asked after a moment’s hesitation.

He turned his head sideways to look at me, his face was calmer than I had expected. “Yeah.”

I cleared my throat and gave him a searching look. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my business. I think my intentions were good but, I didn’t mean to do that to you. I was being shitty.”

Deacon rolled fully onto his back then sat up, letting the blanket slip to his waist. “No, it’s, it’s not right the way I spoke to you. I know you, care about me. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” He scratched absently at part of the scar over his exposed chest. “I haven’t talked about any of… what happened with anyone since back then. Maybe the harder I try to forget, the worse off I’ve been.”

I was impressed. “That sounded, remarkably deep.” I confessed.

“I spent the night in here, something I’ve been avoiding for years, and I guess it was okay.” He replied, staring at the unassuming bed.

I rubbed his shoulder in a comforting way. Deacon looked at my hand as I touched him, then took it in his.

“I should probably get up, get ready for work.” He said, moving to climb over me.

“Saturday, no work for either of us today.” I mentioned casually.

“Oh, right. Well, I should still take a shower.” He decided aloud as he straddled me then climbed off the side of the bed closest to the door.

“Drink some water!” I called after him as he wandered naked into the living room. I could only guess how bad his hangover must be after the way he hit the bottle last night.

I laid back down and took a whiff from the side of the bed where Deacon had just been sleeping. His sweat and warmth were still there, creating a contented smile over my face. Could this be something that we continued? The thought of spending more nights held in his arms thrilled me in a way that nothing else could.

When I heard the water start in the bathroom I decided to try my luck with the big guy again. He never bothered to lock the door and honestly I didn’t bother him much while he was in there, though it occurred to me to do so almost every morning. Today was different though, there was no rush, no schedule, and I still felt guilty about the way I had acted the night before. I wanted to show him just how sorry I really was, so I slipped quietly into the washroom where the marshall was already showering. Being naked myself I crept over to the stall and pulled the heavy plastic curtain back just enough to slide in behind him.

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