Scott pulled himself to his feet and began to rearrange his clothes. Joe joined him, levering himself up off the floor, pulling up his jeans and tucking himself away.
Cum was smeared against Joe’s skin beneath his jeans and T-shirt, but that wasn’t something he was inclined to worry about. In fact, it was just the kind of tangible proof of how good things were between them that Joe was desperate to hold onto. It gave him hope that things could go on being good; that there would be a great many more shared orgasms in their futures.
Mere seconds seemed to pass before Scott was ready to leave. In the hallway, Joe forced himself to pick up his jacket.
“You’re g-going out?” Scott asked, but he quickly dropped his gaze. “N-n-not that it’s any of my b-b-business. S-sorry.”
“I’m taking you home.”
“You d-don’t have to d-do that,” Scott rushed out. “I’m f-f-fine and it’s r-really—”
“It’s not up for debate, Scott,” Joe cut in. “I’m taking you home.”
Scott seemed about to say something. Possibly,you no longer have any right to give me orders. Luckily for Joe, Scott seemed far too polite to actually utter those words.
Joe watched Scott like a hawk all the way from his flat down to the ground floor. It wasn’t as if he thought Scott would make a run for it or be beamed up by aliens, but he still couldn’t shake off the feeling that everything was at risk. The protective instinct he’d always felt toward Scott went into overdrive.
In the street outside the block of flats, Joe considered his options. Bike. Car. Bike. Car.
He wanted to cosset and shield Scott from everything and everyone. Car.
But the desire to have Scott pressed tightly against him, for what might still turn out to be the last time…
Joe strode across to his bike. Scott made no complaint about their mode of transport, or about the way Joe brushed aside his hands and insisted on doing up every fastening on Scott’s borrowed gear himself.
With both of them properly attired, Joe straddled his bike and nodded to Scott.
As obedient as ever, Scott got on behind him. Just a second later, he slid his arms around Joe’s body. Joe let out a silent sigh of relief. He’d always known there was a good reason why he’d never taught Scott to use the grip behind the pillion seat.
Scott’s hold on him was as strong as it had ever been, and damn, but it felt good.
Joe pulled away from the kerb and into the light stream of traffic.
There was another good thing about the bike. It made conversation impossible. It meant Joe couldn’t say anything stupid on the journey to Scott’s place. All he had to do was ride, and enjoy the way every burst of speed caused Scott to cling even more tightly to him.
Joe wasn’t sure if Scott’s responses signalled fear or excitement, or a mixture of both. Joe only knew how he felt himself. There hadn’t been many times in his life when a goodride hadn’t been able to put him in a much better mood, but it didn’t work tonight. By the time they stopped outside the building where Scott rented a room, Joe was even more pissed off than when they left his flat.
Scott dismounted. When Joe did the same, Scott opened his mouth as if to say something, perhaps to protest. When he saw Joe’s expression, he seemed to decide that continued silence was probably a much better option.
Gear removed and stowed away, they walked up to Scott’s room side by side. Outside his bedroom door, they stopped and turned to face each other as if they were performing a complex piece of choreography that they’d been practicing for an entire lifetime.
Scott stared at the floor for a long time, but Joe waited him out. Finally, Scott looked up. Their eyes met. Scott looked more lost than Joe had ever seen him; more vulnerable and fragile than Joe would have believed possible.
Joe lifted a hand. He half-expected Scott to flinch away from him, but he remained still as Joe rested his hand upon his cheek before sliding it back to thread his fingers through Scott’s hair.
Joe dipped his head. Scott’s only reaction was to close his eyes. Joe brushed their lips together. Scott didn’t hesitate to part his lips and encourage Joe to deepen the kiss. Tightening his grip on Scott’s hair, Joe held him in place and kept the kiss slow and controlled.
He explored Scott’s mouth as if he might have to sit an exam on the subject—one he was determined to pass with all colours flying. Their lips lingered together. It took Joe a long time to convince himself to lift his head and break the kiss. When he did, Scott’s eyes remained closed.
Joe stood very still, his hand lingering in Scott’s hair. The moment Scott opened his eyes and was, in theory at least, ableto take care of himself, Joe dropped his hand back to his side, turned on his heel, and walked away.
Down the corridor, out of the shared house, and all the way to his bike, Joe had to force himself not to spin around and retrace his steps up to Scott’s room.
Scott would let him in. Scott would let him screw him too; Joe had no doubt about that. It would be so easy for him to ride roughshod over Scott’s wishes. Joe started his bike.
Scott wasn’t watching him go. Even if he’d wanted to, his room was at the back of the house. But Joe still felt like he could feel Scott’s eyes on him as he rode away.
Joe revved up and leaned into a corner. There was a good reason why he hadn’t said goodbye when he left Scott at his door. Goodbye meant the end, but this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
