Dilly and Boz by John Inman

Author:John Inman [Inman, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64405-616-5
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2019-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

DILLY’S APARTMENT was dark but for a few shadows dancing across the walls. The dancing shadows came from the TV in the corner, where an old black-and-white version of The Mummy was playing. The volume was turned down low, and there was just enough light for Dilly to gaze up across the plains of Boz’s bare belly to the smile that was aimed at him from the other end of the Murphy bed. After a veritable sonata of squeaks and creaks that had lasted a good thirty minutes, the bed was silent now, as were Dilly and Boz. They were both shiny with sweat and trying to catch their breath, since only about thirty seconds had passed since their simultaneous orgasms almost blew them through the roof.

“Wow,” Boz gasped, his hands holding Dilly’s hips in place, Dilly’s softening cock still pressed against his cheek.

Dilly was gasping too. His nose was buried in Boz’s balls, and he was seriously considering staying there for the rest of the night. “Sixty-nine is the best position ever,” he wheezed, his pulse pounding away inside his head. “I think I’m having a stroke.”

“Hypochondriac,” Boz snerked.

In answer, Dilly squirmed across the bed until they were both facing the same direction. He burrowed into Boz’s arms, wiggling around until he was comfortable.

“There are two fuzzy lumps at the foot of the bed,” Dilly huffed into Boz’s ear.

Boz took a peek over Dilly’s shoulder. “Leon and Grace. I wondered where they went.”

“Are they asleep?” Dilly asked.

“Yeah. Cuddled in each other’s arms. I mean, legs.”

Dilly let the silence roll back in while he listened to Boz’s heart thumping beneath him. It seemed to be slowing down now. As was his own. It began to look like they would survive this last round of sex after all.

Dilly scooted down in the bed enough to lay his ear to Boz’s breastbone. From there, the thudding of Boz’s heart was even louder. He slid a hand along the satin warmth of Boz’s hip and stroked the blond hair on his thigh. Boz’s sleeping dick was squished against Dilly’s stomach, and Dilly suddenly ached to take it into his mouth again.

As if reading his mind, Boz clutched him closer and whispered, “Don’t move. I like you right where you are. And besides, Boz Jr. needs a nap. You’ve sucked him into a coma.”

Dilly sighed, then burst into a grin when he noticed his face heating. “Oh, all right.”

He peered over Boz’s forearm to the TV, where Boris Karloff in mummy drag was about to scare the bejesus out of some unsuspecting archeologist from central casting.

“Do you think Puffer and Estelle are doing the nasty about now?” Boz asked.

Dilly shivered and buried his face in Boz’s chest. “Oh sweet Jesus. I’d rather not think about it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Dilly looked up and saw Boz grinning down at him. He slid his fingers through Dilly’s mop of hair before taking a fistful of it and dragging Dilly none too gently up the bed so he could give him a kiss.

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