“For seduction,” said Bede. “That’s what I read in an article once.”
He ducked his head to kiss Galen’s temple, pulling his arms closer, making Galen’s body arc a little way back.
“I told you we’re doing this my way this time. In bed.”
Galen rose up and pushed on Bede’s arms, and for a quick second Bede imagined that Galen wanted him to let go. He was about to. Then Galen clasped his hands along Bede’s forearms, stroking with his fingers.
When he began to tug Bede’s shirt out from his jeans, Bede realized how this was going to go. Galen was no shy flower, no ingénue, but rather a man who wanted Bede. A combination that Bede was unable to resist.
Even if they were together for only for this time, a short span in the middle of a hot Wyoming summer, it might be enough. Or it could be too much.
Bede was feeling just a stab of trepidation when Galen gently leaned forward and kissed Bede lightly on the breastbone, letting Bede’s shirt drop along his shoulders. Then he used his hands to tug the sleeves off all the way and smiled up at Bede at this slight accomplishment.
“You’re all muscle,” Galen said, his fingers tickling along the inner side of Bede’s arms. “And these tattoos—I love them.”
“Got ‘em way before I was arrested,” said Bede, chuckling low in his chest, standing as still as he could for Galen’s inspection as he looked down at his own arm. “Getting tats in prison is just a way of getting an infection as fast as humanly possible. Wouldn’t get one behind bars on a bet. These are from a tattoo artist in Denver. I told him what I wanted, and out of respect for the Maori people, they are stylized but not actually tribal tattoos. If you see what I mean.”
“Maori?” asked Galen. “Why Maori?”
“I dunno.” Bede shrugged slightly. He’d never really been able to explain, even to himself, why he felt drawn to the Maori culture, though his interest might have started after watchinga rugby game where the All Blacks team performed their traditional haka before the start of the World Rugby cup match. “Just ‘cause.”
Galen traced the edges of the blocks and curves that went over his shoulder, and a little way down his left arm. The curve along his neck swooped to represent an ocean’s wave. All black, dark as night.
“I’m not a tattoo guy,” said Galen, under his breath as if to himself. “But these are nice.”
“Nice,” said Bede in mock anger, pulling Galen to him so they were hip to hip. “Hours and hours I spent in the chair and these arenice?”
“Very nice,” said Galen, amending, punctuating the words with kisses along Bede’s collarbone, which made him shiver. “Pretty damn nice.”
“C’mon,” said Bede, not wanting to wait any longer. “You said bed. Let’s do bed.”
“It’s a cot really,” said Galen with a snicker.
Bede wanted to swallow him whole. Instead, he used deft hands to strip Galen to the skin, all the while absorbing the pale angles of his body, the jut of his hips, the softness of his belly. The shiver that ran through Galen as Bede placed his full palm on Galen’s thigh, squeezed a little, then let go.
“You are delicious,” said Bede, his voice guttural and low as he pulled Galen’s naked body against his clothed one.
“So are you,” said Galen. “But you should be naked, too, so I’m not on my own here.”
Gladly, Bede tore off his clothes, tossing them in a heap near where he’d piled Galen’s clothes. Then he pulled Galen into his arms, and half-closed his eyes with a sigh at the delicious feeling of skin-on-skin.
Galen’s cock was hard against Bede’s belly, and his own cock had stood up and taken notice long before that. He was so readyhe was weeping from the tip, and there was an insistent pull in his groin that told him to go fast, even though he wanted to go slow.
“Oh, shit.” Galen’s whole body jerked in his arms.
“What?”
“I don’t have any stuff.”
“Stuff for what?” asked Bede, getting a pleasant eyeful of the sweet blush that danced high on Galen’s face. He knew what Galen meant, and playfully teased, “Stuff for Parcheesi?”
“No,” said Galen, then his mouth opened, and he laughed and said, “I mean lube. You know that’s what I meant.”
“We don’t need lube,” said Bede, desperation rising in him that they should not stop. “We can get along this time. Order it later. We’re sure to use some later. I just want to?—”
It would take too long to explain, so Bede pushed Galen to sit on the bed, then went to his knees, spreading Galen’s thighs with both hands.
“Jesus, Bede, here.”
