Who's the Turkey Now? ***NSFW***

Bailey Bradford

Copyright 2013

Who’s the Turkey Now?

A Max and Bo Short. 

“Aw, come on, Bo. This here’s just nasty,” Max whined as he eyed the turkey’s opening. “I don’t wanna.”

Bo sighed and rolled his eyes. Made Max just want to bend him over the table and fuck him until he sighed for a totally different reason.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, stud,” Bo told him, winking in that way that made Max’s heart flutter every single time. “You’ve helped birth calves and horses, and had your hand up those vajes. What’s so traumatic about this?”

Max wrinkled his nose at Bo. “Well, fer starters, this thing is dead, and I ain’t helping to birth nothin’. It’s a dead, cold, plucked bird with it’s guts up there just waiting to be pulled out. That’s nasty in anyone’s book, ain’t it?”

Bo pointed at that big, dark cavern. “And the neck. Don’t forget the neck. We’ll use it in the giblet gravy.”

Max was going to be sick. “That stuff goes in the gravy? Seriously?”

Bo nodded. “Yep. I mean, you can make regular gravy too, but you gotta have the giblet gravy. It’s a tradition, you know.”

Max knew something—Bo hadn’t had a family worth shit, and he’d never gotten to do a big Thanksgiving thing himself. Max’s family had sucked for the most part, but Thanksgiving had been a big deal. He’d never been allowed to help with it, though. Cooking had been women’s work, plain and simple.

And he’d ate a lot of gravy every year, damn it all to hell and back. If he’d just known…

“You’re looking kinda green.” Bo stepped in front of him and stared at him worriedly. “It’s okay. I can get the innards out.”

But Bo had really been looking forward to them doing this together. They were supposed to make the turkey and ham, and the yams… and the pumpkin pie… and the giblet gravy, Max guessed, since they would have the parts. Bo had wanted to volunteer to prepare the whole Thanksgiving shindig, but fortunately, Chance had put the kibosh on that.

But not before the gravy part.

“I got this,” Max said when Bo edged over to the turkey, holding his hand up like he was prepared to just cram it right in there.

“You gotta be gentle,” Max said, his cheeks flaring hot. “Don’t wanna just shove all in.”

Bo looked at him like he was nuts. “It’s a dead bird. I’m not gonna traumatize it any worse than it’s done been at this point.”

Max huffed and nudged Bo aside. “Still don’t wanna tear that all to pieces. Don’t we gotta stuff it and all?”

Bo nodded. “Yeah, but—“

Max pointed to the opening. “You want the bird to look pretty?”

Bo stood a little taller and narrowed his eyes at Max. “Are you implying I was gonna make it ugly?”

Max shrugged. “Don’t think ramming a fist in there is ever good for anything. That kinda thing has to be done slow-like.”

And oh, didn’t Bo blush then. Max did too, worse than before, but not from embarrassment. It was arousal, plain and simple, because Bo knew exactly what he was talking about. It hadn’t been but a few weeks since they’d decided to experiment.

Bo shifted from foot to foot then pressed a palm against his cock. “Every time I think about that I fuckin’ get hard.”

Max canted his head and watched the way Bo began rubbing himself. “You think about it a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Bo admitted, then he shivered. “Okay, yeah. When I’m beatin’ off—“

Max jerked his gaze up to Bo’s. “When you’re beatin’ off? When’s this happening?” Cuz God knew they fucked like bunnies—at least, as much as two men their ages could. “I’d love to watch.”

Bo’s left eyebrow went up and a purely wicked smile curved his lips. “You wanna watch, huh?”

Max bobbed his head. “You know I like to.”

Bo backed up a step, then another until he was leaning against the table. The turkey was sprawled out right beside him. Max grimaced. “Could you—“

“No,” Bo said, cutting him off. Bo began unbuckling his belt. “You won’t be watching that bird in just a minute.”

Max sure as heck wouldn’t be if he could help it. He adjusted his own growing erection as Bo unbuttoned his jeans. Then he took the zipper tab and began pulling it down.

Max’s chest went tight as his heartbeat doubled. HE’d been with Bo for years and never once had he gotten used to seeing the man naked. Every time was just as exciting as the first time had been, maybe even more so.

Bo pushed down his jeans. That he didn’t wear underwear came as no surprise. The man did love to be prepared for easy access.

“Touch yourself,” Max got out as Bo’s cock bobbed. Thick and long, it was beautiful, and made Max clench his ass, because he knew just how good that thing felt in there, turning him inside out.

“You look like you want this,” Bo said, gripping his dick.

Max did, but he also didn’t. “I wanna watch you,” he made himself say. Bo could and would fuck him, later. Or he’d fuck Bo, maybe long and slow, pushing Bo to the edge again and again before letting him come…

“Whatever you’re thinking, you sure as shit better do it,” Bo informed him. “That’s a fucking hot look you’re wearing.”

Max grinned. Bo might not think it was such a good thing when he was begging to come. Bo could be rather impatient at times, but holding off gave him incredible orgasms. Bo could scream, that was for sure.

A couple of strokes and Bo’s breath began to hitch. A flush ran up his neck and on the part of his stomach Max could see.

Bo reached for his balls with his other hand and played with them. “You know what I’m thinking about now?” Bo rasped, then answered before Max could speak. “Not you fisting me, though…” He shivered, his eyes closing for a few seconds before he pinned Max with a lusty stare. “Your mouth on me, sucking me, taking me deep. Letting me pull out and come on your face…”

Bo’s deep groan sent flames of need licking all up from Max’s groin. His cock ached and he wanted exactly what Bo was offering.

“I want to be able to hold on and take what you’ll give me.”

Did that mean fucking his face? Bo was usually not so aggressive when it came to getting his dick sucked, but Max was open to just about anything.

“Oh, God,” Bo whimpered, his hips snapping. “I can almost feel it, those tight, wet sucks, the way you tongue my slit…”

Well, that had to be an invitation. Max figured Bo wasn’t just working the fantasy angle now, he was telling Max to suck him off in a round about way.

Max was on Bo in a heartbeat. He gripped Bo’s hips and held them tight. “Hold onto my shoulders,” he told Bo. Kneeling was hard on Max’s knees, so he liked to do things a little differently.

Bo held on tight enough to bruise. Max nearly came from that grip. “Up you go.” Max lifted and Bo hopped. Together they plopped him on the table.

Right beside the damned turkey.

“You’re scootin’ over,” Max growled. “I ain’t smellin’ nothing’ but you,” he said, his southern accent thickening with his desire.

This time Bo didn’t protest, letting himself be maneuvered around until he was several feet away from the bird. Max  held him at the nape and hip, and kissed him like he couldn’t get enough of Bo.

Which was the case. Bo tasted like a man should, in Max’s opinion. Strong and a little sweet, dark and addictive.

Bo whimpered into the kiss and stopped trying to take over. He tilted his head to the side more and gave himself to Max.

There, that was what Max had been after. It came on him suddenly-like sometimes, the need to take control. Bo always ceded it, just like Max did when Bo wanted the reins. “Let’s get you good and properly stripped,” Max muttered, wanting to touch Bo everywhere.

“I’m all for that,” Bo agreed. “You stay dressed, though.”

Well, that just pushed Max’s arousal up another half-dozen notches or so. “Mostly,” he agreed, because he was going to suck Bo all right, then he was going to pound his ass into the table.

“Mmm,” Bo purred, “I do like it when you get all toppy.”

“I’ll give you toppy.” Max stripped off Bo’s clothes and boots, keeping his handling rough enough to turn Bo on, but not so much as to hurt him. Max would never hurt him.

Max pushed and Bo went backwards, lying on the table. Max slid a hand beneath Bo’s lower back, arching him up so he could rub against Max’s denim-covered groin.

“Fuck. Aw, fuck.” Bo scrabbled for a hold on him. Shoulders, back, arms—Bo tried them all before getting a double handful of Max’s hair.

Max thrust, because damn it, he couldn’t not do that. Bo hissed and wrapped his strong legs around Max’s hips. “Forget the sucking. Fuck me, cowboy.”

Max snorted and went after Bo’s nipples. He liked the way Bo yelped and pushed his tits up, eager for more pinching and suckling.

Those little nipples grew hard as stone under Max’s assault. Hot and tight, just like the rest of Bo was, Max mused as he scraped his teeth over one bud.

“Fuck,” Bo drawled, stretching the word out so long it was almost gibberish. Max pinched the other nipple, then gave it a twist, and Bo did start babbling, and rutting, writhing needily beneath him.

Max liked that. A lot.

Bo alternately pulled his hair and pushed at him, trying to get Max to move down. Seemed a damn good idea to Max, so he went, nibbling and sucking up marks that had Bo squirming.

THERE WEREN’T SIX PACKS ON EITHER OF THEM, NOT ANY MORE, BUT THEY WEREN’T OUT OF SHAPE, EITHER. BO HAD THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF SOFTENING AROUND HIS MIDDLE, AND MAX LOVED IT. EVERY TIME BO COMPLAINED ABOUT IT, MAX SHOWED HIM JUST HOW MUCH HE LOVED IT.

NOW MAX SUCKED UP SEVERAL PURPLE MARKS, A PLAYFUL MOOD COMING OVER HIM. BO WOULD LIKELY SKIN HIM LATER ON, BUT FOR NOW…

EVENTUALLY MAX MOVED DOWN TO TONGUE BO’S BELLY BUTTON.

“FUCK, MAX, I’M GONNA DIE,” BO RASPED.

“ARE NOT,” MAX ARGUED, BUT HE STOPPED TORMENTING BO AND LICKED THE PRE CUM OFF OF BO’S DICK.

“GOD DAMN,” BO WAILED, PRESSING MAX’S FACE INTO HIS GROIN. “SUCK IT!”

MAX GENTLY NIPPED BO’S INNER THIGHS THEN LAPPED BO FROM BALLS TO SLIT. HE OPENED WIDE AND TOOK THAT FAT CROWN INTO HIS MOUTH AS BO THRUST UP EAGERLY.

MAX PUSHED BO’S THIGHS AS FAR APART AS HE COULD THEN HE GOT HIS HANDS UNDER THAT PLUMP ASS. HE SQUEEZED HARD ENOUGH TOT THRILL THEM BOTH, THEN HE BOBBED DOWN TO TAKE MORE OF BO’S LENGTH IN.

BO BEGAN BABBLING, CURSE WORDS MOSTLY, BUT HE SURE STRUNG THEM TOGETHER CREATIVELY. MAX TURNED HIS HANDS, WEDGING HIS THUMBS INTO BO’S CREASE SO HE COULD PRESS AT THAT TIGHT LITTLE PUCKER.

“YES,” BO HISSED. “PUSH ‘EM IN!”

MAX LET THE SALIVA RUN FROM HIS MOUTH, DOWN AND DOWN UNTIL HE COULD FEEL IT WETTING BO’S SKIN. HE SMEARED IT AROUND AS HE KEPT SUCKING BO’S DICK, AND WHEN HE THOUGHT IT WAS GOOD AND SLICKED UP, HE PUSHED HIS THUMBS INTO BO’S HOLE WITH NO WARNING.

BO SHRIEKED AND THRUST DEEP INTO HIS MOUTH, THE CROWN BREECHING MAX’S THROAT. HE ALMOST GAGGED BUT MANAGED TO KEEP IT TOGETHER. WHEN HE SWALLOWED, HE RAN THE TIPS OF HIS THUMBS ALONG THE INSIDE OF BO’S ASSHOLE.

NOISY—BO WAS DEFINITELY THAT. HE HOWLED AND JERKED BETWEEN MAX’S MOUTH AND THUMBS. HIS COCK LEAKED PRE CUM STEADILY, AND MAX PUSHED AT HIS SLIT EVERY TIME HE CAME UP THAT STEELY LENGTH.

BO’S LEGS BEGAN TO TREMBLE AND MAX PULLED OFF HIS COCK SUDDENLY.

“NO,” BO WAILED, BUT MAX SILENCED HIM INSTANTLY BY LICKING AT HIS PUCKER, PUSHING HIS TONGUE IN AS MUCH AS HE COULD BESIDE HIS THUMBS. “YES,” BO CORRECTED THREADILY.

MAX WOULD HAVE LAUGHED HAD HE NOT BEEN SO HORNY HE CAOULD HARDLY SEE. HE LEFT OFF THUMBING BO’S HOLE TO INSTEAD PUSH HIS LEGS UP TOWARDS HIS CHEST.

THEN HE GOT TO IT, LICKING BO’S PUCKER UNTIL THAT RING WAS SOFT AND GAPING, WET AND WAITING FOR HIM.

MAX LICKED AT IT AGAIN, THEN HE STOOD UP STRAIGHT AND GOT HIS COCK FREE QUICKER THAN HE EVER HAD BEFORE. BO STARTED AT HIM DAZEDLY. BO’S LEGS WERE STILL UP, HIS HANDS CLAMPED BEHIND HIS KNEES. THE MAN WAS AS FLEXIBLE AS ANYONE HALF HIS AGE COULD HAVE BEEN.

MAX SPAT IN HIS HAND A COUPLE OF TIMES, THEN HE SLICKED UP HIS DICK AS MUCH AS HE COULD. BO HAD BEGGED MAX TO DRY FUCK HIM A COUPLE OF TIMES WHEN BO WAS FEELY REALLY ROUGH, BUT MAX PREFERRED TO MAKE SURE BO WAS WET.

HE WAS JUST ABOUT DRIPPING NOW.

“GONNA FUCK ME?” BO ASKED AS MAX LINED HIS COCK UP TO BO’S ASSHOLE.

SINCE THAT WAS PRETTY OBVIOUS, MAX FIGURED BO JUST WANTED SOME DIRTY TALK, WHICH WAS HARD FOR MAX TO DO USUALLY. AT FIRST. ONCE HE DOVE IN…

“GONNA FUCK YOU SO HARD YOU CAN’T EVEN SCREAM,” MAX WARNED.

BO OPENED HIS MOUTH TO REPLY AND MAX THRUST, A SHARP, FAST MOVE THAT HAD HIS COCK HALF-BURIED IN BO’S ASS.

“OH MY GOD,” BO GASPED, EYES GOING WIDE BEFORE CLOSING. “YES!”

MAX GRABBED BO’S LEGS AND SHOVED IN THE REST OF THE WAY. HE DIDN’T HESITATE TO START MOVING HARD AND FAST, POUNDING AWAY AT BO’S ASS.

BO GRUNTED WITH EVERY DEEP DRIVE IN, AND PANTED FOR BREATH ON THE WITHDRAW. MAX DID THE SAME, PLEASURE WINDING AROUND HIS BALLS AND DICK, Warming him and making him tingle.

He bent over Bo and tried to cover him as much as he could. Max wanted to crawl right into the man and feel all of him, would never get enough of his husband.

Bo keened and shoved a hand between them to fist his own cock. Max slammed into him harder, driving Bo back on the table. Max paused long enough to shuffle him back a little, then he got on the table, the wood surface making his knees ache.

That was okay, the bite of pain would make him last longer. He grinned and drove his cock in over and over, soaking in the sight of Bo flushed and raspy, lips parted, nostrils flaring. The sounds the man made were heady, too, and that tight, clenching grip around Max’s dick? Yeah, that was perfection.

Max didn’t want Bo’s hips to ache though, so he pulled out and got down from the table.

“Whaaa—“ Bo began, but Max had the man rolled over in a heartbeat.

“Like this now,” Max told him, and Bo shimmied partially off the table until his feet were on the floor. He remained bent over it, and Max took a moment to caress his ass. “Got a perfect butt, Bo.”

“I know,” Bo said, his voice stretched thin. “Come on!”

Max chuckled at the demand and the way Bo wiggled his backside. “Since you asked so nice…” He pressed in gentler, thinking Bo might be a little tender at this point.

Bo shoved back hard enough that Max nearly stumbled. “Now,” Bo barked.

Max grabbed at his hips while Bo went to jerking off. The rhythmic clench of Bo’s inner walls and ring were warnings that he was close. Max was kind of surprised they’d both lasted so long.

He took Bo with long, slow strokes, snapping his hips hard the last inch or so on each thrust.

He did love the way that shoved the breath right out of Bo every time.

Max settled one hand on Bo’s nape, kind of holding him down, and he began driving in harder.

“Fuckin’ A,” Bo got out, thumping his forehead against the table. “Right. There.”

Max’s balls drew tight as he worked Bo’s gland, feeling the slick sweat between their bodies, the quivering muscles in his own thighs as they burned from the exertion. He pressed a little harder on Bo’s nape and Bo sucked in a sharp breath.

His inner walls clamped down around Max’s cock like a velvet fist. “Fuck!” Bo bellowed, his entire body jolting. Max let his own orgasm fly then, fucking Bo desperately as he came.

“Shit,” Bo said minutes later. Max, draped over his back, recognized that as a bad kinda shit and opened his eyes.

“Aw, hell,” he agreed.

They’d fucked so hard the damned bird had hit the floor.

“You know what this means?” Bo asked, sounding purely miserable.

Max thought there were a lot of ways he could have answered that, but he settled on no. “No?”

Bo groaned like he’d been handed the worst fate. “We fuckin’ have to go to the grocery store on the night before Thanksgiving! Talk about hell!”

“Oh shit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“This bird looks good,” Chance said as he started carving the turkey. He glanced at Bo. “You buy it already cooked?”

Bo glared at him. “No, you ass. Don’t make me smack you with the ham.”

Chance snorted and gestured with the knife. “Seriously not a wise threat, considering.”

Bo rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I’m terrified. Don’t butcher that turkey.” He was proud of that damn bird. It had turned out the perfect golden color, and the stuffing was delicious. Bo wouldn’t throw the ham, either. It was covered in a brown sugar mixture and had pineapple rings and cherries stuck on it.

“Really looks great,” Chance said as he sliced the breast. “Juicy, too. My mom couldn’t cook a turkey without drying it out. Tasted like toothpicks.”

“Toothpicks?” Rory asked, looking at Chance. Rory cooed at little Ethan, who giggled ecstatically. The baby wasn’t a year old yet, but it was obvious already he’d be a heartbreaker.

“Happy baby boy. I love that sound.” Chance smiled at his and Rory’s son then went back to the carving. “Yep. Dry and bland. Took me years to try turkey once I left home. I thought it all tasted like that.”

“Ours doesn’t,” Bo promised.

“That ham looks amazing, too.” Rory licked his lips. “Can I steal a cherry?”

The way Chance laughed at the request made Rory thump his arm. “Pervert.”

“Just the way you love me to be,” Chance pointed out.

Rory nodded. “Oh yeah. Maybe later we can…” He leaned over and whispered in Chance’s ear. Whatever he said had Chance bobbling the knife and making a crappy cut.

“Hey,” Bo began but Chance quickly resumed doing the job right after glaring at Rory.

“I’m holding you to that,” Chance warned. Rory smirked. “Max, can you hold Ethan for me? I’m gonna grab my nieces while I can.”

Max took Ethan and promptly blew a raspberry on the baby’s belly. Ethan squealed and Max did it again.

Rory moved off to answer the door.

“Annabelle! Hand me my nieces!”

“Good luck holding ‘em,” Justin warned.

“Yeah, they’re all independent now,” Evan said, and the man sounded plumb sad about that. “Maybe we should—“

“Don’t even,” Annabelle warned, and Bo turned to peek through the dining room doorway to see her pointing at Even. “Unless you’re going to be the one getting knocked up, the answer is still no. Nine and a half months of waddling like a damned bloated penguin, not seeing my feet and—“

“You weren’t big until the last month or two,” Justin said then blanched as Annabelle whirled on him. “Shit. I meant—“

“I can’t even get mad because I was the size of the garage by then,” Annabelle grumbled. “But no. No more kids unless someone else has them. Being pregnant isn’t fun, except for feeling them move.”

“Hearing the heartbeat was amazing,” Even added quietly as he watched the two little girls squirm in Rory’s arms.

Bo sometimes wished he and Max had a kid, but considering they were both close to fifty, it didn’t seem fair to take on raising a baby. There was no guarantee how long they’d be around. And, he really did like the freedom he and Max had to be together.

But maybe he could see about doing some volunteer work with kids or something. Maybe.

The little girls were off and running, and Bo soon found himself playing chase with them around the table.

“Girls,” Justin began, then he laughed and shook his head when Rory joined Bo in the game. “Ah, nevermind.”

“Let ‘em be. They ain’t hurting anything,” Chance said.

“I want to play,” Josh hollered, running into the dining room.

“Hold back,” Nick called out, “I don’t want you tripping—“

Josh caught his foot on the table leg and, all eyes, knees and elbows, went down hard.

“Shit!” Nick yelped while Josh landed with a thud that made Bo cringe.

“Maybe you kids should have been playing outside,” Evan advised as he knelt by Josh.

Josh slapped his hands away. “Get off of me, you lug. I’m not hurt.”

“Unca Joshie went boom!” the twins said. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” Then they jumped on Josh.

“Ow!” Josh yelped, paling as he tried to gently remove the kids from his lap. “Oh, oh man…”

Nick tutted and bent to help him up. “Now girls, no damaging Uncle Joshie. I like him all in working order.”

“You love me, period,” Josh muttered as he hunched over. “Oh, man. I might have to take a few days to recover from that knee…”

“They tend to do that to a guy,” Justin said as he shook his head. “I swear, they get it from their momma. Just go right for the—“

“Justin,” Annabelle growled, then she ruined it by laughing and hugging the man. “I wish I’d trained them to attack like that. Unfortunately, I think it’s just a case of happy girls wanting hugs, and you guys are so much more vulnerable than us women.”

Well, Bo wasn’t going to argue that point since he’d just seen Josh get kneed. He’d make sure not to get on the floor, too.

Josh stood up a little more and huffed. “Jesus. Taken out by a table and two toddlers. That’s just pathetic.”

Nick tucked him in close for a hug. “You just run in full-tilt, baby. Sometimes you need to stop and check out the scene.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Josh grumbled. “Then I might miss something. Life’s worth a few bumps and bruises.”

Bo agreed with that. He looked at Max, who had handed Ethan back to Rory. Max’s smile went right to Bo’s heart and expanded it so much Bo thought he’d burst.

There was love, so much for Max that it didn’t seem he could hold it all in, and love for the family they were a part of—Rory and Chance, Annabelle, Justin and Evan, the babies—Yeah. Family.

Max held out his hand, a soft look of adoration in his eyes. Bo was drawn to him just like he’d always been. Always would be.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said as he took his place at Max’s side. Bo slid an arm around Max, who rested his arm on Bo’s shoulder. “I love you guys,” Bo said, his face heating up but he had to say it to them all, at least once.

Everyone stopped and looked right at him. Annabelle touched her mouth then rushed over to him. Bo was hugged within an inch of his life.

“You… you softie,” Annabelle murmured. “You know we love you too. You and Max both.”

Before Bo knew what was what, he was getting hugs from everyone.

“This is what Thanksgiving in,” Chance said, standing in front of him with a hand on Bo’s shoulder. “Friends that are family, family that are friends, love and memories, laughter and hope. Remembering the paths we’ve walked together, and looking forward to making new ones.”

Bo’s eyes burned. “When’d you get so talky?”

Chance gave him a crooked grin. “Sometimes it happens. Now, let’s get to the other part of this holiday—the food.”

When Chance turned to head to the table, Max cupped Bo’s cheek. Bo stared into his husband’s eyes and wished, for a moment at least, that they were alone.

“Soon,” Max promised, then he kissed Bo, a light, sweet promise to love him forever.

They joined their family and Bo was truly, completely grateful for each and very person there. HE’d been granted so much in his life, so many good things once he’d let go of the bad.

And today was the day to make sure he appreciated everyone who’d been a part of that.