Then I have a thought. “Just out of curiosity, why do you think it’s Elliot?”
Jordan’s still awake, barely, come-drunk and in that twilight state where his filters are gone and it’s likely an honest answer. “You’re gay. That eliminates the senator. I think if someone so much as breathes too close to Kev that Mr. Bruunt would rip their nose off. The senator might, too.” He yawns. “Mostly, it was the head tips.”
I freeze. “Head tips?”
“Yeah.” He snuggles his face against my chest. “I’m used to watching people closely. Survival skill when I was a kid. Plus for my artwork. The two of you have head tips you do with each other that you don’t do with anyone else. Like a code. No one else sees it, though. I mean, I haven’t seen anyone else look like they’re watching you that closely. Maybe Secret Service but I doubt even they noticed.” Another yawn, and now he sounds like he’s almost asleep. “It’s okay, Sir. I think he’s hot, too.”
My heart races. I thought we’d been so careful. I reach up and gently massage the top of his head, leaning in to kiss him as I do. “Neversay anything to him about noticing that. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir.” Those two words from his lips, said like that, make my pulse throb and my cock twitch.
Fuuuuck. I’m screwed.
I’m afraid if Elliot knows Jordan clocked us that he will totally shut down because of his terror.
Meaning what little time I have with him will dry up completely.
The thought of that rips my guts out.
I guess there’s my answer, right? To try to make this work as a poly situation? Maybe not a triad, if Elliot isn’t on board with that. Although a triad sure would make life easier on me in the long run. It’d make life easier on Elliot, too.
But things haven’t been easy with Elliot in what feels like forever.
* * * *
When I awaken in the middle of the night and process that the warm form molded against my body is smaller than Elliot and is, in fact, Jordan, I lie there for a moment and try to process the soup of emotions that realization draws out of me.
Including anger.
Because…there’s no goddamned reason this couldn’t be me and Elliot.
Why is his fear worth more than me?
Why have I settled for less all these years?
Jordan shifts position, practically draped over me now, and slides a hand down my torso to cup my cock.
Which immediately grows hard in his hands.
Those long, elegant fingers.
He’s not asleep. He rolls on top of me and starts kissing me, pausing only to grab the lube from the nightstand.
Then he’s slicking me and I feel his tight, hot body engulfing me. I should make him wrap me.
I should.
But we’ve crossed that bridge already, and we’re both clear, so fuck it.
“I want it all, Sir. I want you, and I want him, if he’ll accept me.”
Devastating need switches off my brain. I fist his hair with one hand so I can crush his lips onto mine and silence him. I grab his ass with my other hand and start slowly grinding up against him as he tries to wiggle with me.
I suck on his tongue and nip at his lips and dig my fingers into that tight bubble butt and use his body to shut my brain off for a while. He’s eager and willing and damned if I’m going to stop now.
I’m too far gone.
Between us, I feel his cock leaking and slicking us. When I bend my knees and plant my feet and find the right angle, he groans and wriggles and squirms, meaning I slow down.
