He clings then, desperate.
I am as well, for more hours than we’ve got left. All I’ve got is now, so I swallow again and get another flood of salty sharpness to prove Dair’s racing to a finish I can’t let come this soon.
I pull off, and his eyes shoot open, then widen at me finding his hole. His breath catches, which could meanstop.
I don’t need to rasp a question aloud to find out. He’s already nodding. And already reaching for something slippery to help me continue.
Bottles topple from the side of the bath. Some of them sink fast. Others float in milky water. Neither of us scoops them up or sets them upright. He holds the one he wanted. Opens it to pour bath oil on my fingers, and I swear on everything I ever loved that I thought I knew what pretty meant before I met him. And strong. He’s next level at both tonight, all damp and flushed, his lips bitten redder now than pink, every muscle tense, and I don’t know whether he slips or if I shift position, but I’m?—
Inside him.
He gives way, letting me in to the first knuckle. But he also lets out another of those low-pitched groans, and I need to be sure it’s for a good reason. “Yeah?”
He nods, chin dipping in the water. His nips are still tight despite the water’s warmth. They say yes too. So does his cock twitching to add more ripples to the surface, and I ease my finger in another fraction.
My shirt is soaked, bunching around my bicep where his fingers dig in. “You want more?”
He nods even harder.
“Then I’m gonna need more than bath oil to make it good.”
He slides out of my hold. Splashes upright. “In my room.” Water slops over the side of a bath that would sell for plenty at auction to collectors of Victoriana. I got no time to waste being pissed off that it will soon belong to strangers. I’m too busy finding a towel for him.
He takes it and uses it on me instead of to dry himself. Of course, he fucking does. Dair pats dry my wet face, and I’m so gone on him, it isn’t funny.
I can’t laugh about this care or complain about him dripping on bathroom tile when he efficiently strips me out of sodden clothing. He’s deadly serious about hanging my shirt and trousers over a radiator in his bedroom followed by dumping the contents of my pockets on his bedside table, which he bends over on the hunt for lubrication.
I’m deadly fucking serious too about what the hallway light spills into the room to show me.
A swirl of auburn glints somewhere that light doesn’t usually get a chance to shine, and I drop to my knees behind him so fast and so hard every building in this borough should crumble.
Dair crumples instead as soon as I get my mouth near him. He’s weak at the knees for a second time, buckling as I kneel behind him on faded carpet beside his narrow mattress. Don’t ask me why I’m more at home here than I ever was a few streets away.
It feels familiar, that’s all.Right.Like tonight isn’t the one and only time we’ve both been fully naked. I’m bare right down to my soul because he looks back at me and proves I don’t have a monopoly on gruffness.
“Vincent.”
That’s all he says. My name. It’s more than enough incentive to part his cheeks, the tip of my tongue picking up from where I left off with a slippery finger, and if there’s any bath oil left where I kiss him, I don’t taste it. All I get is Dair, and each slow circle I paint with my tongue makes him shiver.
I take time we don’t have by licking him forever. And by prodding with the tip of my tongue, which is when he buckles again, weak at the knees for me. He also reaches back to clasp an arse cheek, making more space. Dair wants me closer. I hear it.
“More. I need?—”
I got him. I’m not saying I know exactly what he needs, but him wanting me so much that he’s wordless does fuel me. I rim him and I don’t stop. Dair pushing back tells me to keep going, and that’s what I was built for—workhorse, remember—so I lick and kiss him, poke and prod and suck until he shouts, and both of our breathing turns ragged.
His moans pitch a whole lot lower, and my cock drips. I have to give it a squeeze at the base, then squeeze myself even tighter, not wanting to get off before he does. It won’t take much. He’s so responsive, pushing back against my face one more time, grinding before falling forward on the mattress.
His legs spread even wider, and I could do this forever, so I do, and perhaps that works some magic to stop every clock in this city.
Dawn doesn’t feel right around the corner.
Kev won’t be pulling up outside any time soon in a van he wants to paint with the wordcousin, even if I’ll never read it.
The future fades when I get a finger inside Dair. Then two, and that’s gotta burn. He quits his squirming. Goes still, and I get why. I might not have Blake’s massive cannon, but I am in proportion from head to toe and from dick to each thick knuckle.
It takes an age before I can slide that second finger inside him with ease, but that extra time gifts me the kind of sounds that say I’ve found a decent angle, one that works for Dair, and the next time he looks over his shoulder at me, the light from the hallway shows me those deep, dark pupils. There’s nothing hidden in them. He wants me. This. Us together, and there’s nothing heather-soft about his order.
“Fuck me.”
