“You’re good for me,” I told him. “You know that?”
Peyton smiled, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Yeah, you’re good for me, too, Jet.”
Hearing him say that grabbed me. It felt like when Peyton pushed himself to come out so that we could be honest with Noah, giving me the courage to face the truth, too. Peyton had been the brave one, then, and pressing him against his desk, I realized that it was my turn now.
“We should talk to Noah again,” I told him. “I don’t want to hide that I’m with you.”
Peyton grunted under his breath. He pawed the back of my head, then kissed my neck, his beard sparking like electricity. “Jet. I didn’t know what you wanted. I thought you probably weren’t interested…”
“I am,” I said, then tugged at Peyton’s suspenders, pulling his body up to mine again. “If you are.”
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I am.”
We kissed, pushing papers off the desk, then a cup of pens. When I realized that Peyton had actually prepared for exactly this, I laughed and dramatically swept aside the other carefully stacked office supplies he’d set out, then hugged him and pulled him up to the edge of the desk.
“I want you inside me,” Peyton grunted. He grabbed the bottom of my polo and tugged it off, throwing it aside. “I’m ready.”
I let out a satisfied groan as I worked to remove his shirt and gave the suspenders one more tug. “About fucking time,” I teased him. Peyton loved it when I rubbed his prostate from the outside. I had hoped he was going to come around to exploring it through penetration, too.
My man and I were going to have each other all the ways we could, hell yeah.
“You just tell me what feels good. I’ll take care of you.”
“There’s condoms and lube in a bag in my desk.”
I took his wrist and rubbed it with my thumb, then dragged my fingers down the backs of his forearms, over the dark hairs. “I’ve been tested,” I said. “No stress if you aren’t up for that. But do you know your status?”
The room went still, and I felt my heartbeat. “Yeah,” Peyton finally answered, choking on the word. “I mean, I’ve only been with you since I got tested last.” He rubbed his hand across his beard, stretching out the silence. “Fuck yeah,” he finally answered. “Let’s do it.”
I kissed him again, and there was something new behind it. We wanted to be with each other. In a real way, Peyton and I were making commitments, growing our trust, and that changed what was happening between us. It surged a new energy through our touch, and it wore at something deep inside of me.
“Come here,” I grunted, then spun him around. I pushed Peyton’s face toward the desk and squatted behind him. When I tugged his boxer briefs down, I took his hairy, muscular globes in my hands and pulled them apart to kiss his rim. “You want to smoke that cigar while I rim you?”
Peyton laughed, then pushed his butt out toward me. “I can’t smoke in here.”
I squeezed his cheeks, which earned a tremble from him. It was entertaining and pleasing to me that he was still responsible Peyton, even when he was being bad for me. “Remind me later. You can smoke it in my bedroom while I blow you.”
Peyton groaned as I went back to licking his hole. I dragged my tongue, fat across his crease, then swirled it at his rim. Bottoming was hard work, especially if you hadn’t done it before, so I was generous with my time working closer and slowly deeper. Grunting and squeezing his ass and his thighs, I massaged his rim with my tongue, then flicked my stud against his hole.
His knees shook against me, and Peyton fell flat against the desk. I pushed forward, stretching my tongue against his seizing rim, then in. While Peyton groaned my name and slammed his hand against the desk, I worked a finger into his wet hole, too.
“Fuck,” Peyton grunted. He arched his back, and he seized tight over my fingertip.
“Lube,” I said, huffing for breath.
Peyton scrambled over the table, pushed a drawer open, and then finally reached back with the lube. I kept one finger there, stretching his spasming rim, and used my free hand to squirt lube down his crease.
He’d gotten my brand of lube, which made me grin.
“How’s that?” I asked, then corkscrewed my finger in with an achingly slow turn, my cock pulsing as I felt his tight squeeze.
Peyton gasped. “I like it.”
I bent down again, now moving slow and focusing entirely on him, even though my cock was screaming for the relief of a tug. As Peyton got used to the finger, I licked around his rim. When he was ready, I added more lube and slid in a second finger, then curled down toward his tender prostate.
Peyton twitched. “That’s it,” he gasped.
“Fuck yeah,” I said as I stood, keeping my fingers in his tight hole. “I love how you move when I touch you here, babe.”
