A Bird in the Hand

Story idea given by "Maturedadsandmen" from Tumblr.

Cole Walker was about two blocks from his destination when his phone rang. He normally wouldn't answer it, but it was his sorta-kinda boyfriend/fuckbuddy John. Cole still made fun of John for still preferring to call instead of just text, but that's what you get sometimes for dating a man much older.

"Hey," the 24 year old answered. DC weather had moved from brisk to cold, and his cheeks were flush.

"Hiya sexy," the said. John's voice was a craggy tenor, with an upstate New York accent. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

Cole smiled. The whole arrangement with John was weird, to say the least. The congressional staffer didn't even know the guy's last name. John was an FBI agent who was VERY closeted. In a town like DC, that wasn't unusual, and Cole himself had only told a couple of close friends that he was gay. But John seemed to want the boyfriend stuff as much as the sex. Cuddling, long talks, dates. All while being crazy protective of his privacy.

"Tough day?" Cole asked. He wished he didn't feel so eager to talk to the man, but it wasn't like he was ready for an open boyfriend either. The fact the federal agent was 47 made something real and public seem impossible to the younger man. He, too, enjoyed the play-pretend nature of their dating if he was honest with himself.

"And how," John breathed. "I'm about to meet a buddy for dinner, but I wanted to call... we still on for date night Saturday? I'll take you somewhere nice." It was only then that Cole could tell the man was in a public place and talking a little quieter than normal.

"Yeah," Cole replied. "And you don't have to go all out. I just enjoy seeing you."

There was a contrite pause on the other end. "I know I've not been good at things lately.. but would it be pushing my luck to have you stay over this time?"

Cole's heart pounded. It was hard to hold a grudge. "No, not at all."

John's volume got lower. "Damn, studly," he hissed. "That's gonna help me get through this week all right."

"Yeah," the younger man chimed in. 

"Listen... I gotta go. But see you Saturday?"

"Yep," Cole replied. "Looking forward to it."

After they hung up, Cole felt guilty. It wasn't like he and John were boyfriends, really, not in the conventional sense, and they'd never said anything about being exclusive. If the agent ever asked, Cole would very likely agree to be a one-man guy, but until then...

But the real reason he felt guilty is that Paul Ricciardi pushed his buttons in a different way than John. Cole dubbed him the "Head Honcho" is his mind, and while Ricciardi wasn't the number one guy at the Bureau, he wasn't that far down the org chart. In a lot of ways, he was the opposite of John - married and addicted to down-low sex, more dominant in bed, and confident in hooking up with a recently graduated dude despite his high-profile position. He knew Cole Walker was after dick and wasn't gonna blab to anyone.

Paul was just wrapping up a phone call when he heard the buzzer of the apartment. The rental was justified as a place to crash for late nights, but certainly his wife knew her 53-year-old husband kept on an affair, maybe more than one. They just never talked about it. The dont-ask-dont-tell approach worked for the law man.

Ricciardi's gruff face cracked a smile when he opened the door to see Cole. Dudes like this were dime a dozen in DC... congressional staffer, needy bottom, daddy issues galore. But this Walker kid was exceptional: he'd played soccer at Georgetown and his bulking up since graduation hadn't interfered with that youthful jock look. The real deal. No two ways about, Cole was gorgeous. Just the right amount of masculine, the right amount of cute, total boy-next-door who still carried that jock gain as he walked in.

"Hey," Cole's voice said, quietly as he walked in. He respected Paul's need for discretion, it was almost intuitive.

"Hey," the career law enforcement man whispered in a soft growl, shutting the door. "You look hot as fuck."

Cole's eyes swept up Ricciardi's build. Mid-50s and fit as ever, the toned daddy beef filling out Paul's conservative but expensive suit, and the short-cropped gray hair setting off the intensity of the man's brown eyes. The tie was loosened but other wise he was a poster boy for Bureau leadership. "You too," he gulped.

Paul grinned and reached up to cup the back of Cole's neck, yanking the younger man into a hot kiss.

Cole moaned into Paul's mouth as that thick tongue conquered him. He could taste scotch and smell the man's cologne. Reflexes kicked in as he reached forward to hold the man's suited waist, enjoying the feel of the Head Honcho's hard body beneath.

The kiss was over as quickly as it started. Ricciardi stepped back and reached down to unzip his suit trousers. The man wasn't overly hung -  like John, his cock was meaty, even fat. "Gonna suck Daddy's cock, kid?" Paul roughly growled.

"Fuck yes," Cole said. He's been with only six men since first becoming sexually active at 21. But he quickly realized he was all bottom - orally and anally. He was still surprised he'd bagged two FBI men over the last year and a half. Luck, for sure, but it was also clear the ex-soccer jock had a type. Both Paul and John were strong, silent daddy personalities. His own father was a PA state trooper, and one day Cole would have to analyze the fucked-up part of his head that got turned on by that. Or not. Maybe it was something that could never fully be explained - it's just something about a law enforcement man pushed his buttons big time. 

Paul Ricciardi was careful about who he fucked. He had a one-at-a-time rule, for the sake of discretion. By now, he'd had his share of hot young men. He'd met some real sluts and a couple of ex-jocks like Cole. But no one had combined that effortless masculinity with a real bottom eagerness like this kid. 

"Fuck yeah," he growled as Cole began deep throating that fat hog. "Swallow Daddy."

More than he realized, Cole was worked up that evening. He would have chalked it up to missing this cock, but actually Paul had reached out to him more frequently lately, no longer the once a month booty call. Maybe the more he had it, the more he wanted it. 

That hand now clasped the back of Cole's neck and held tight as Paul's hips went into overdrive. Fast hard jabs battered the back of Cole's gullet. It was too much, and Cole coughed some on it, which made Paul pause before starting a gentler, if no less deep, thrusting.

Finally he pulled out, that dick spit wet and rock hard. It was beautiful to Cole. Like with John, he decided he liked the extra girth more than he craved extra length. For as bottomy as he was, the young stud wasn't a size queen. He'd prefer a tool that could use him without too much discomfort.

"To the bedroom, kid," Paul hissed, a hint of a smile cracking on the stern face. He was used to being in charge in every aspect of his life. He was in charge now. But something about this jock stud made him feel a little less in control.

Cole scrambled up. He'd learned to come over to Paul's prepared. Sometimes the two took their time, sometimes the married man seeded him in two minutes flat and sent him back home. As they entered the spare bedroom for the apartment, Cole quickly peeled off his sweatshirt and T in one move and just as quickly kicked off his sneakers and peeled down the jeans. There was nothing underneath and his own hardon stood up erect and excited. Cole may not have had the girth of his boyfriend or this man, but he was hung longer and the sparser crotch hair made his jock bone look even longer. 

Paul was taking off his suit and laying it on a chair. He'd hang it up later. For now, his ravenous eyes were on Cole as he got onto the bed, on all fours. They didn't always mate this way but it was Ricciardi's favorite position, and Cole's too, though they'd never talked about it. They just fucked. 

Then watched the Head Honcho step toward the bed, his body tightly dense from dedicated workouts. The chest fur wasn't as silver as his hair, but it was getting there, and the body hair got denser the closer toward that magic cock, which was already dripping. 

"Damn, when was the last time you got off?" Cole asked. 

Paul climbed on the bed and ran his hand over the ex-jock's dusty haired but half smooth rump. "Fucked the wife yesterday," he hissed. "I'm just a horny guy."

"I'll say," Cole replied. He didn't know what he thought about fooling around with a married man. It probably wasn't the moral thing to do. At least John was single, or said he was single. Maybe the man lied, hence the lack of a last name.

Then Cole felt the nuzzling of the man's face in his clean crack and the contact of that thick tongue. John was actually better at rimming, or at least liked to go longer, but something about Paul's intensity drove him wild. "Yes," he hissed backing his ass back against the man's munching face. A hard slap hit his cheek as the Head Honcho dove in more eagerly. It was gonna be a quick one, but Ricciardi was a grade-A ass man and could rarely resist a taste of Cole's jock hole. 

"Goddamn," the FBI man finally said as he leaned up. Cole could feel that hard beef press against his back as Paul reached over for some lube. Just a squirt, not too much... Ricciardi liked a snug ride.

The man quickly fingere Cole and almost as quickly lined up that fat prick to press in. 

Cole's deflowering, the night after his 21st birthday, had been by a very patient man, and he'd lucked out to find a couple of tops who knew how to go slow at first. Paul Ricciardi was the first man to show Cole he didn't always need slow.

That dick popped in now, snapping open the elasticity of the young man's pucker.

"Fuck yes!" Paul growled. He leaned forward again, covering Cole's smooth back with his own meaty furry one. "You feel that kid?"

"God yes," Cole hissed. Maybe it was the rank or the badge, but everything about Paul turned him on and made this FAR easier than he'd ever imagine. He even enjoyed the crude way Ricciardi's bone just barreled in further, past his internal tightness. "Fuck me, man."

That was Paul's cue, his green light. Wrapping an arm around Cole's shoulder and neck, he held on tightly and thrust all the way into the hot stud. Barely taking a rest, he began fucking, hard. 

"Oh fuck!" Cole whimpered. He wished he could keep his normally deep voice low, but the pitch rose once Paul reamed him like this. "Oh god, oh fuck!"

A hand clasped over his mouth. Paul wasn't overly verbal today, though he could be. Instead he gripped the kid close and rode him hard. It had been a tough week and he needed a fuck like this to channel his stress.

Each mating like this made Cole wonder if it could get better. His prick was now leaking like crazy on Paul's bedsheets and his muscles flexed involuntarily in the man's strong grip. 

THIS is what made him feel bad about going around behind John's back. Cole wished to god that John could fuck like this, or would fuck like this. The Head Honcho was even less available a man than John, but he outmanned Cole's boyfriend in the sack.

BAM, BAM, BAM. Paul's fat cock was relentless now. Some guys couldn't take it. Cole could, and would. The very knowledge had the FBI big-wig's prick getting slick with his own precum. 

Cole concentrated and forced himself to quiet his moans. The hand unclasped from his mouth and moved to feel up more of the ex-soccer jock's lean body. 

"You're close," he heard. Paul wasn't asking a question. 

Cole forced his voice back to its deeper register. "Yah." He felt light headed now. Before Paul he thought hands-free cums were a myth. They weren't though, and he was about to offer proof again now.

"Oh shit," he breathed in a whisper. His dick jerked and the first spray of precum jetted out, matching what Paul was pushing deeper and deep into his guts with each hard jab.

BAM, BAM, BAM. The fucking was harder and faster, if possible, only Ricciardi was starting to lose his cadence. The man was orgasming now. 

Cole's dick now jerked again, and the cum flew out. Seven heavy ropes of young cum being pressed out from within. Cole didn't pass out exactly, but he lost focus, like he'd sucked too many poppers at once. 

Paul's body slowed and now rested immobile on his back. A light kiss was the one gesture of affection Ricciardi offered him, ever, but the simple act was more powerful for it. Cole wished he could have experienced his partner's cum more vividly, but the payoff of the simultaneous orgasm made up for it. He and John had done that once.

Paul rolled his muscular, FBI-fit body off his sexual conquest and lazily plopped onto the mattress. He was sweaty and handsome as fuck and his prick still twitched in its wetness, semen oozing out of the tip. 

Just as lazily Ricciardi reached over to stroke Cole's side as the younger stud gingerly stretched his legs and lay on his back. "Remind me to thank your boyfriend for the hall pass," he hissed. 

Cole had told the Head Honcho that he was seeing someone. He's admitted it to put Paul at ease for a discreet hookup, but he regretted sharing that info now. "He doesn't know, actually."

Paul chuckled. "I thought you said you had an arrangement... but that's cool, kid."

Cole felt embarrassed. "I mean, we don't have an exclusive thing, but I guess I haven't gone into details with him." 

Normally the Head Honcho would be getting up, going to piss, showering off, or just slipping on some sweat pants in a clear signal it was Cole's time to go. Instead the man's eyes seemed not to get enough of the 24-year old and his hand moved up to gingerly stroke Cole's cute-handsome face. 

"Well, I'm glad this works out for you," Ricciardi said. "I know I come on strong, but you're really fucking hot."

"I know," Cole smiled. He knew his worth, but it was also a joke.

Paul got it, chuckling. "As you can tell, I'm a busy man... but I'd love to see you a little more often. If it works out with you and your boyfriend." For a take-charge man, he seemed surprisingly shy in his request.

"That's be hot," Cole said. Paul Ricciardi didn't kiss as much as Cole would like, almost never after the act itself. But it was hard to give up the man's harder approach in bed and his overall sexiness. "You're really fucking hot, too."

"I know," Paul repeated Cole's joke back to him in perfect timing. "Am I hotter than your boyfriend?" he asked with a wink, then patted Cole's chest. "Sorry, that was my male competitiveness kicking in."

Cole nodded. He wasn't going to give Paul the satisfaction of an answer. Besides he didn't know how he would answer. John was sexy as fuck, too, and reminded Cole a lot of Paul in his stature, build, and appearance. "Maybe I shouldn't admit this but he works for the bureau, too."

"Yeah?" he smirked. 

"Yeah," Cole nodded. He was glad to see Paul's laid back side. Maybe being married, the man wasn't bothered by hearing about another man. Lazily, the man's fingers caressed Cole's chest muscle. "John. A field agent," Cole said, opening up. He'd not been able to tell a single other soul about the most important development of his life over the last year. It turns out this DL hookup with a DC big shot gave him the only opportunity. He blushed as he added, "Funny thing is I don't even know his last name. He's super closeted. Always going on about how he's married to the Bureau and doesn't have time for anything else."

"Sounds like my brother Jo..." Paul stopped, his face growing beet red and his fingers pausing in their motion on Cole's naked body. "Jesus Christ, you're not fucking my brother are you?"

Cole was taken aback. The idea was crazy and yet once Paul said, he knew it was possible, even likely. The resemblance wasn't dead-on, but it wasn't far apart either. "I dunno," he stammered. "Fuck."

Paul got out of bed and Cole felt bad. Ashamed but also pissed. This guy was probably overreacting. There had to be a thousand Johns in the Bureau. But judging from the Head Honcho's reaction, Cole worried he'd fucked up a good thing.

Only Paul's expression wasn't anger as he walked back in. He had his phone in his hand. He slid back into bed and held it up. There was a photo of John already, probably taken a year ago at the beach, the agent in chino shorts and a casual polo, barefoot in the sand at sunset. 

"Is that him?" Paul asked, like he was interrogating a suspect.

Cole nodded, tears welling at the edge of his eyes. "Sorry, Paul," he muttered. "Fuck, I didn't know."

Paul gave a grimace which was strangely comforting as he set down his phone. "I know you didn't, kiddo." He gave Cole a good look, like he was still trying to process things. "Confirmed bachelor, my ass," he laughed cynically.

"I don't know... he's kept things casual with us. Sometimes I think it's more a fuck buddy thing, you know?" Cole was trying to make it sound better, but the more he talked the more he realized it was sounding worse. 

Paul had one last shake of the head. "Well, my brother had good fucking taste... I'll give him that." Then, "maybe you should go, OK?"

His tone was surprisingly empathetic, not mean. Cole could tell Paul was feeling concern that he'd encroached in onto his brother's guy and was processing the fact John was very probably full-on gay. And maybe the Head Honcho was worried how Cole was processing all this.

"Yeah," the ex-jock said, quickly gathering his clothes to put back on.

"Don't worry, kid," Paul said, leaning up in his bed, still naked and hunky looking. "This shit happens. Well, maybe not very often, but it's nothing to get freaked over."

"I'm OK," Cole said gamely. A million thoughts were racing in his mind but one worry in particular.

"But what?" Ricciairdi prompted, able to tell something was bugging the young guy.

"I shouldn't admit this," Cole said. "But I'm gonna miss the sex we've had."

Paul's brown eyes sought his and it was like their connection was a spark of energy. "Me, too, kid, me too."

Cole Walker thought about those words the whole walk back to his apartment.