“Fuck,” Bobby says as James repeats his pattern, adding a little twist. “If you don’t stop—”
“Do you want me to? We have all night,” James says.
Bobby hesitates and James swirls his thumb through a drop of moisture. He’s close. Bobby groans and flops back, biting at his lip and waving James on. James chuckles and increases his pace, leaning down to press a kiss to Bobby’s throat. Bobby shifts, reaching out to tug James’ mouth to his, sucking on his lip as his hips stutter.
In three short jerks Bobby moans against his mouth. His body goes taut and he comes over James’ hand. James slows his pace and Bobby falls back to the mattress, eyes closed, mouth open, utterly beautiful and blissed-out and gloriously all for James.
James gently releases him and rolls, just for a moment, to find Bobby’s pants on the floor to wipe his hand. When he turns back, Bobby’s eyes are open, watching him, his chest still heaving.
“That was the most spectacular tug I’veeverhad,” he says.
James can’t help but blush. “Thank you.”
“Thankyou,” Bobby says, reaching out to pull James down into another kiss. “God,” he mumbles against James’ lips.
James lets himself get lost in the kiss, feeling proud andtouched and unbearably horny. But he hates to be rushed when he’s post-climax, so he doesn’t want to—
Suddenly he’s on his back and Bobby is climbing off the bed, then tugging him by his ankles. James slides across the comforter, staring up at the canopy, unable to fully believe where he is.
He rises on his elbows when he hears his first boot hit the floor, his legs now dangling off the mattress. He watches, his pulse in his ears as Bobby makes quick work of his trouser button. He lifts his hips so Bobby can shimmy his trousers and pants down and all the way off. He would feel immodest, but the way Bobby stares down at him and licks his fucking lips—James has no calm, no suave, no nothing left in him. Except one exaggerated gulp, and a twitch in his midsection he can’t at all control.
“May I?” Bobby asks, his breath fanning across James’ thigh where he’s kneeling at the side of the bed.
“God, yes,” James hears himself say.
And then it’s heat and hands and slippery pleasure that has James’ fingers twisting in the comforter below him. He tries to stay on his elbows, tries to watch, but it’s entirely too much, and he falls back to the mattress, eyes clenched shut as Bobby’s mouth makes stars burst behind his eyelids. He thinks briefly of stopping him—of demanding to be inside a different part of him before he comes, but they have all night, and the idea of coming in Bobby Mason’s—
It’s too bright and wonderful and intense to even finish the thought. He throws his head back on a loud moan, his hips straining toward the ceiling. Pleasure floods through him, tight and pulsing. His fists clench into the sheets. It’s perhaps the most extraordinary thing he’s ever felt, and it takes him a long minute to even begin to feel anything but white-hot bliss.
Tingles and zips course through him in aftershocks as Bobby finally releases him. He blinks his eyes open and tips his chin, looking down to find Bobby’s cheek resting against his thigh, beside his softening— Lord, that’s hot.
“Here,” he mumbles, his mouth dry. “Up here.”
Bobby smirks, climbing up to stretch himself out against James’ chest. He leans down for a kiss, halting just above James’ mouth. James can barely move, but manages to raise one hand to cradle the back of Bobby’s skull and guide him down so he can give him what he hopes is the most grateful kiss of his life. He tastes faintly of salt and tang and James hums against his lips.
“Spectacular doesn’t begin to cover it,” he manages to say as Bobby pulls back, still held close enough that he’s a little blurry.
“Good,” Bobby says, such tenderness in the word.
James can feel a flush spreading over his cheeks. Bobby shifts against him, sinuous and languid.
“I’ll... need a minute,” he admits.
“We have all night,” Bobby says simply, sliding down to curl himself against James’ chest, his nose pressing to James’ clavicle.
James cards his fingers through Bobby’s hair. “I’ve never had all night,” James finds himself admitting. “Have you?”
Bobby traces his fingers along James’ chest, contact that tingles just faintly, stirring the first inklings of recovery in James’ abdomen. “I have, but it didn’t seem so—” James can feel his frown.
“Safe?” James suggests, the thought swelling in his own chest.
No wondering if someone will enter the room. No worrying that they need to pay. No rush, no hurry, no sense that time is running out and they need to reach for climax immediately.
“Yeah,” Bobby says, his breath warm against James’ neck. “And real. ’S nice to know I’ll see you again.”
James closes his eyes against the rush of comfort that surges over him. “Yeah.”
“By the way, you’re even prettier in the throes of passion, you know?”
