Wednesday. Marlon thought for a moment, trying to work through the fog. Wednesday. Right. Good. No wonder he’d allowed himself to drink so much the night before. He sighed, relaxing back against the headboard. “Okay, good. Wednesday. I thought… I wasn’t sure. The chief would’ve killed me for pulling a no-call, no-show. Especially with all the complaining I’ve been doing about Andrew. I—” He stopped speaking abruptly, realizing he was saying his thoughts out loud. He glanced at Vahin. “Sorry.”
Vahin grinned and released his hold on Marlon’s hand. “It’s okay. So you work for a chief? That make you a fireman or something?”
Marlon kicked himself. He never told a hookup what he did. Always too many questions. And always the same request, or at least some variation of the same request. Too late now. And the hookup was over, so what did it matter. “I’m a cop, actually.”
Vahin’s eyes grew wide. “Really?” His gaze traveled across Marlon’s exposed chest and arms. “Well, that explains the body.”
Maybe there wasn’t going to be that request. Good. “Um, have you seenyourbody? You’re every bit as built as I am, and you’re a bartender.”
He shrugged. “I like to be pretty. And even if I didn’t, it helps the tips. Trust me.”
Marlon paused at Vahin calling himself pretty. He was, more than, but a person didn’t usually refer to themselves like that, at least not people you wanted to be around more than a few minutes. But there didn’t seem to be any arrogance around the words. Just a statement of fact.
Before he could think of what to say, Vahin spoke again, the look in his eyes heating. “Cop, huh? Wish I would’ve known that last night. Could’ve found uses for your baton, not that you didn’t do a perfect job with the one God gave ya. But the handcuffs could’ve been fun.”
And there it was, the handcuff request. Every time. The baton comment, not as much. He marveled at Vahin’s bluntness. Most of the time the request was spoken tentatively, but there hadn’t even been a blush to Vahin’s cheeks or fake modesty about the sex they’d had.
Again, Marlon was speechless.
For the first time, Vahin looked hesitant. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. Just a little fantasy of mine.”
You and everyone else.Marlon took a long swig of coffee, giving himself time to think. Again he was torn. He wanted to get the hell out of there. The talking and getting-to-know-you stuff was not his gig. But there was something so alluring about Vahin. Something that made him want to stay in bed with him a few more hours, even if he did request the cliché handcuffs.
Probably the mix of hangover and Vahin’s gorgeous body.
He swallowed his coffee and lowered the mug. “Sorry, if I was… if I overstepped my boundaries last night. It’s all a bit of a blur.”
Vahin cocked his head. “You don’t see me complaining. Though, honestly, even if you had your baton, I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of that right now. I’m a little tender. You seemed to have a bit of built-up aggression.”
Marlon winced, a memory of digging his fingers into Vahin’s shoulders coming back to him. He glanced over. Sure enough, tiny bruises had formed, four on each side, on Vahin’s traps, right below his neck. Marlon reached out but stopped himself from making contact. “Sorry about the bruises.”
“Didn’t even notice. And again, you don’t hear me complaining. Though I can’t do a repeat performance at the moment, as much as I’d like to.”
Despite himself, at Vahin’s words, Marlon felt his cock begin to fill once more. Damn, he wished he could remember more of last night’s events.
Vahin noticed as well. He glanced down at the rapidly rising tent of Marlon’s lap, then looked back up into his eyes. Holding Marlon’s gaze, Vahin reached over and slowly pulled the sheet down Marlon’s legs, making the fabric graze across his cock, which rose the rest of the way. Marlon sucked in a breath.
With a curve of his lips, Vahin finally broke eye contact and lowered his head.
There was a second of warm air, and then wet heat enveloped Marlon’s dick. He let his head fall back.Fuck yes.
With his lips around Marlon’s shaft, Vahin moaned, long and satisfied.
Marlon let out a moan of his own and shut his eyes. The world lurched, and his eyes flew open once more. The room spun.
He put his hand on the back of Vahin’s head, holding him still. “Stop. Dear God, stop.”
Vahin quit bobbing and sat back up when Marlon removed his hand. “Sorry, I thought—”
Marlon shook his head, which was a mistake, then groaned. He lifted a finger and took several breaths, each one deeper than the last. Finally he looked at Vahin. “Sorry. Thought I was going to throw up. As much as I want you to do that, I don’t think the hangover is going to allow that to happen.”
Vahin seemed relieved. “Oh. Well, thank you for not barfing on my head. I appreciate that.” He smirked, then glanced at the clock. “Actually I don’t have enough time anyway. I’m supposed to meet Pat at the thrift store. She wanted help in picking—” He made a waving motion with his hand. “Never mind. You don’t need to know all that. But I’m meeting her at twelve thirty, so I should get going.” His expression altered, and he seemed to be debating something with himself. After a second, he met Marlon’s eyes again. “Not to sound weird, but I’d like to do this again, maybe when you’re not trashed. I work for the next seven nights, but I have tonight off. Any chance that sounds like fun?”
Again that mix of emotions. The last thing he wanted was a date. But he really did want to experience Vahin in a way he could remember.
Vahin felt his hesitation, obviously. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to freak you out. Not a big deal.” He moved to get out of bed.
Marlon spoke before his brain had a chance to intervene. “Yeah. Tonight would be good.”
