“Your room is cute,” James says, closing his eyes in mortification as soon as the words pop out.
Mason chuckles and brushes his thumb along James’ jaw. “Thank you,” he says, no hint of derision in his voice. “You’re cute.”
James opens his eyes to find Mason’s sparkling withsomething—amusement, attraction, appreciation? “You’re absurdly handsome.”
God, he’s awkward.
“If you think it’s not mutual, you’re a fool,” Mason says and James feels something let go in his chest again. Mason’s really here holding him, grinding up into him ever so slightly.
James groans and Mason’s little smile turns more predatory. He leans up and sips a gentle kiss from James’ lips before flipping them with practiced ease. James’ back hits the mattress and he lets out a startled breath, everything tightening. The awkwardness slips away as Mason holds himself above him, hands on either side of his head. He slowly lowers the rest of his body, so they’re aligned, head to toe.
“I’ve thought a lot about this,” Mason whispers as he slips his thigh between James’ legs.
James bites back another groan and forces himself to make eye contact. “Not as much as I have,” he says, fighting the urge to blush.
If they’re going to do this, they’re going to be equals in it. He’s been shy and demurring in bed before. But James is not a fumbling young man any longer, learning his firsts. He knows what he wants, he knows what he likes, and damned if he’s going to let his hesitations get in the way of finally being in bed with Bobby Mason.
“Oh yeah?” Mason says, breathing hard as James lets go and rubs against him with abandon. “Jesus, Demeroven.”
“James,” James pants, regaining enough sense to bring Mason’s mouth down to his.
Mason hums against his lips, opening his mouth with a groan when James slicks his tongue across his bottom lip. “Bobby,” he rasps some minutes later.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, Bobby,” James says, his voice a husky whine asBobby’shand begins to travel down his side, ghosting over too many layers and yet trailing fire as it goes.
“Good point,” Bobby says, immediately rucking up James’ shirt.
James can’t help but laugh as Bobby rears back to work on the buttons, sitting across James’ hips. James sits up too, both of them gasping. Bobby wiggles in his lap and James leans forward, working his way down Bobby’s buttons while Bobby claims his mouth again.
Bobby finishes first, mostly because the movement of his hips is driving James wild. Bobby’s hands glide up his chest beneath his undershirt, soft and strong and spreading zips of pleasure as they go. Bobby tugs James’ arms back while slipping off his shirt and undershirt in one go.
Not wanting to be outdone, or to come in his pants from just the friction of Bobby in his lap, James manages Bobby’s final button. He nearly tears Bobby’s shirt and undershirt in his effort to remove them, tossing them off the bed triumphantly. Bobby mock glares at him.
“Hey,” Bobby says.
James kisses him in reply. “Like you don’t have twenty in this room,” James mumbles against his mouth, leaning forward to press Bobby back against the bed.
Bobby hums in delight, using the movement to wrap his legs around James’ waist. James gives himself just a moment, rutting against Bobby Mason, both of them still half clothed, moving frantically. He thinks his schoolboy dreams may have died and gone to heaven.
But they’re not schoolboys anymore, and there’s no need for this to end in damp frottage, much as the idea sends a juvenilethrill through him. So he lifts himself up to meet Bobby’s eyes, briefly entranced by how dark and wide his pupils have gone. By the image of Bobby mussed and panting, with swollen lips and a light sheen of sweat covering his solid, built chest. Like some kind of Spartan god, sprawled out entirely for James’ pleasure.
“Trousers,” James says, closing his eyes as it slips out without any smoothness at all.
“Definitely,” Bobby says, squirming beneath James immediately.
James opens his eyes and laughs at the look of concentration on Bobby’s face as he tries to divest himself of his trousers without changing their position. “Want some help?”
Bobby meets his eyes. “Please.”
James smiles and shifts to his side to help Bobby pull off his boots, so they can work together to relieve him of both trousers and pants. It takes some maneuvering, and James learns Bobby’s ticklish at the joint of his knee. And then it’s not so funny anymore.
Bobby lies there beneath him, totally at ease in nothing but his skin, allowing James as much time to peruse as he likes. And what a glorious perusal it is. Every part of Bobby is defined and firm, from his magnificent broad chest to his muscular thighs. And at their apex—well, the man has never had anything to be modest about. No wonder he’s got a pompous edge once in a while.
“You’re glorious,” James says, running a finger from the base of Bobby’s throat down to his navel.
Bobby’s breath hitches and James looks back to meet his eyes, waiting for Bobby’s small nod before he lets his fingertip slip lower. Before he rasps through that dark, curly hair. Before he wraps his hand around Bobby Mason and looks up to watchhis head tip back in ecstasy, mouth parted, a little wrinkle of pleasure between his eyebrows.
It’s almost enough to make James come right then and there. But before that, he wants to see Bobby come undone. Wants to watch as the movement of his hand makes him twitch and sigh and moan. Wants to learn what rhythm makes him arch from the bed. Wants to keep a steady pace, and then stop to circle his finger around Bobby’s head and watch Bobby’s eyes pop open in bliss.
