They settled back on the couch and chose a show to watch, but Tom had a hard time getting into it. It was virtually impossible to give the television any attention when he had Bailey sitting next to him on the couch.
The light from the TV flickered over Bailey’s face. The play of light and shadow highlighted his cheekbones and outlined a jaw already shaded with the day’s stubble. The desire to touch was strong. As if reading Tom’s thoughts, Bailey turned. His eyes were dark but glinted as he locked gazes with Tom, sending a shiver down Tom’s spine. Tom couldn’t help it, he reached out and placed his hand against the side of Bailey’s face. His skin was warm under Tom’s touch. He turned his head slightly, his lips meeting Tom’s palm, breath warm.Oh God.Tom’s skin tingled; his breathing sped up. The feeling was electric. He ran his fingers down Bailey’s throat.
Tom leaned in, his cheek against Bailey’s. “Is this okay?” he whispered.
Bailey sank into his hold, nodded against his neck. “More than okay.”
Tom continued his journey, sneaking his hand under the hem of Bailey’s shirt, his palm exploring the soft skin of Bailey’s chest, the smattering of hair under his fingertips. He encountered the soft rise of Bailey’s nipple and circled the small nub. Bailey’s breath caught when Tom scraped a nail over the sensitive flesh. It peaked under his touch and he tweaked firmly, causing Bailey to groan and arch into his touch. Oh God, he loved the sounds Bailey made. Tom’s own pulse was thundering. It was such a turn-on to have Bailey in his arms and the way he responded to Tom’s touch—Jesus!
Tom’s fingers grazed Bailey’s side and Bailey flinched, arching away from the touch. “Ah, ticklish?”
“Uh-huh,” Bailey murmured, and Tom could feel the nod.
He moved, pulling back slightly, and Bailey immediately tilted his head. Their mouths joined in another kiss. This time there was no soft touch of lips and gentle licks; this time the kiss was all open mouths and probing tongues. Tom allowed himself to be pushed back onto the couch cushions as Bailey scrambled to sit astride his lap. Their mouths didn’t separate, Bailey’s grasp on Tom’s jaw holding them together. Tom slipped his hands further under Bailey’s T-shirt, holding him close, as if they weren’t already pressed tightly from mouth all the way down to where Bailey’s legs gripped Tom’s thighs. The pressure of Bailey’s body on his was exquisite.
“Jesus, Bailey,” he finally said when they came up for air. Bailey nuzzled his throat, kissing and sucking. Bailey’s hips had begun rocking against Tom, drawing a groan from him as their jeans-clad dicks rubbed against each other. The muscles under his palms flexed in time with Bailey’s thrusts—strong and firm. He moved to the front, shoving his hands between them, and fumbled at Bailey’s button and zip. Bailey groaned as Tom pushed his briefs down, exposing his cock. Tom wanted to take that hard flesh in his hand, but the angle, and Bailey’s insistent thrusts, made that impossible. Instead he ran his hands around to Bailey’s back, not letting the waistband stop his journey. He pushed his hands under the loosened fabric and explored the curve of Bailey’s arse. The skin was warm and silky smooth over taut muscle that bunched under his palm. “Feels so good, Bailey.”
“Yeah. So good. Don’t stop.”
It took Tom a moment to work out what Bailey wanted him to keep doing, as it seemed that Bailey was doing all the work—kissing, sucking, undulating, breathing hot, moist air against his throat, pushing Tom closer and closer to an orgasm. Even now it was hard to think past the sensations in his groin. His cock was throbbing with need as they frotted like teenagers, but there was no way he was stopping, not when his orgasm was so close and not with Bailey begging in his ear. “Don’t stop. Yeah. Just like that. So close. Don’t stop.”
“Not stopping.” Tom forced his hands further into Bailey’s jeans, momentarily contemplating pausing to remove clothing, but—yeah, no stopping. Instead he shoved harder until he grasped Bailey’s arse with enough leverage to lift him. Tom took over the motion, thrusting up with his hips while at the same time hauling Bailey closer. He could feel the beginnings of his orgasm as he pushed them both closer and closer to the inevitable. He hoped he’d be able to hold off long enough for Bailey to come first.
“Oh My God.” Bailey arched back, hands on Tom’s shoulders, face tilted to the ceiling as he pushed his cock hard against Tom and came. Tom could see the strain in the muscles of his neck and the throbbing of his pulse at the base of his throat. He focused on watching Bailey take his pleasure—he looked damn amazing.
Tom moved his hands, intending to pull Bailey down into another kiss, but before he could stop him, Bailey was scrambling from Tom’s lap. “Wait. No.” Tom was too slow. But his disappointment was short-lived when Bailey dropped to his knees between Tom’s parted legs.
“Is this okay?” This time it was Bailey who asked the question.
Tom looked to where Bailey’s hands hovered over the button of his jeans before nodding.Hell, yes. More than okay.
Bailey dealt quickly with the button and zipper before urging Tom to lift his arse and shimmying his jeans and briefs down to his thighs. Tom’s cock—hard and aching—was exposed but only briefly. Tom’s eyes rolled back in his head as Bailey engulfed him in his mouth. Every bit of Tom’s focus was on the feel of Bailey’s mouth around him. And fuck, could Bailey use his mouth. Hot and wet suction, a perfect pressure, and the rhythm just right. He sucked and licked, and even the small scrape of teeth under the head of his cock was exquisite. Tom knew he wasn’t going to last.
“Fuck, Bailey. Shit. I’m going to come.”
Bailey pulled off, his hand taking over where this mouth had been, jacking Tom to completion. His world narrowed to the release of pleasure as he spurted in the most intense orgasm he’d had for… for a hell of a long time. When he finally came back to his senses and opened his eyes, it was to meet Bailey’s amused gaze.
“What?” He hardly had the energy to lift his head, but he looked where Bailey was indicating.
He looked debauched, with jizz over his stomach and splattered on his dark T-shirt. He was a mess—the very best kind of mess.
* * *
The small apartment felt too quiet, the only sound the muted noise of evening traffic floating up from the street below. Usually Tom was too exhausted to feel lonely when he climbed the stairs to his home. Ordinarily he craved the relative silence of the apartment after the hectic hustle and bustle of the cafe and being surrounded by people all day. Coming upstairs was his escape from the world; the apartment, his sanctuary. But tonight, as he looked at the couch where he and Bailey had sat—and more—last night, he could feel Bailey’s absence like an ache in his gut.
With a flick of the remote, the sound of the evening news filled the small room.That’s better.Something to fill the void. Tom threw himself onto the couch, placed a cushion behind his neck, and flung an arm over his eyes. Immediately images of Bailey flashed behind his lids—Bailey with his head thrown back in laughter, the sadness touched with resignation in his voice as he spoke about his job, the flush to his skin when Tom had kissed his way down Bailey’s throat—
Stop.
God, he wanted to see him again. They had finally crossed the line last night and that small taste hadn’t been nearly enough. Suddenly Tom was craving things he hadn’t wanted in so long. He’d been adamant that he was going to focus on setting himself up for the future, not letting anything get in the way of turning his life around, but Bailey was addictive. After one night, and getting a glimpse of what made Bailey tick, he knew he wanted more.
Would he look too desperate if he called Bailey and set up another date?
Why the hell didn’t I make plans before he left last night? Why didn’t I make sure he stayed last night so we could have talked over breakfast?
Tom understood that Bailey had had to go home so he’d be able to get ready for work in the morning, but still….
Fuck! Who cares if I look keen? Iamkeen.
