Chapter Two
BASS HADN’Tactually expected Doc the Grindr hookup to turn up at his door. If the location hadn’t put him off, he figured the rain would do the job. He’d just used the tease of it, the blunt lust of “wanna fuck,” and the picture of the dark-haired man who looked sardonic even in sunshine and shades, to make jerking off a bit more interesting.
The last six months—broke, back home, and bored as fuck—had left his usual go-to fantasies a bit worn out from overuse.
Not that he was going to object now that Prince Charming, with his wet tuxedo and sweet, cider-sharp mouth, had knocked on the door. He dragged the tall drenched man out of the rain and into the apartment, mouths pressed together in scraped kisses and eager, curious hands on, in, and over their bodies. Bass’s cock rubbed impatiently against his jeans, already primed forsomeoneto touch it. He pushed his hands up under Doc’s shirt, wet silk tangled around his fingers, and grazed his hands over bare, cold skin. The raw gasp that clawed up out of Doc’s throat, a shock of need, was gratifyingly immediate.
Bass bit Doc’s lower lip—he had thin, firm lips that probably looked stern under other circumstances—and then let it scrape out of his teeth as he leaned back. “Shut the door,” he ordered.
Doc swallowed raggedly and licked his bruised lip. He reached back and fumbled blindly at the edge of the door until he shoved it over. The click of the lock tightened in Bass’s balls like a promise.
“You still want to fuck?” Bass asked as he shoved Doc against the door. He pressed against him, wet fabric a thin layer between their skins, and felt the hard nudge of Doc’s answer against his hip. “Then we should set some ground rules. I’m in charge. You do what I say.”
Doc swallowed and leaned his head back. His dark eyes were dazed with lust as Bass touched him, and it took him a moment to focus.
“If you knew me,” Doc said, his voice low and rough like the growl of a well-tuned bike, “you’d know that doesn’t sound like me.”
Bass shrugged and pressed a hard kiss against the hinge of Doc’s jaw. “That’s the point, ain’t it?” he said. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. So tonight you can be whatever I want you to be.”
“Uh-huh,” Doc said skeptically. He ran his hands up Bass’s arms to grip his biceps. “And what do I get out of that?”
“Whatever I do for you… to you… Doc,” Bass said as he worked a trail of wet, bitten kisses down Doc’s throat to the bony jut of his collarbone under his shirt. “Nobody has to know.”
Doc swallowed audibly, and Bass felt the gulp as it moved past his lips. He tightened his hands around Bass’s arms, ready to push him away, and then he relaxed.
“So what do you want me to do?” Doc asked.
Bass had planned to see where lust took him, but… off the top of his head? He licked the bruised stain he’d left on Doc’s skin and stepped back. He folded his lower lip between his teeth, the pinch of pain a brief, sweet itch as he looked Doc up and down. Even drenched, his cock an unmistakable bulge against his fitted black trousers, the man looked expensive. Bass reached out and pleated the lapel of Doc’s jacket between his fingers. The fabric caught against the calluses on his fingers.
“This? Keep it on,” he said. His voice thickened at the thought, a catch of lust in the back of his throat. Apparently he had a thing for well-dressed men. Who knew? “You actually look like you mightbea doctor.”
Doc raised a dark, straight eyebrow. “That’s because I am,” he said. “Doctor—”
That was not what Bass wanted out of tonight. He used the handful of jacket to drag Doc away from the door and into a “shut up” kiss. Doc growled into Bass’s mouth in a flash of temper but didn’t try to pull back. He tangled his hand into Bass’s hair and pulled him closer so he could deepen the kiss. With lips and tongue still chilled from the rain, Doc explored Bass’s mouth almost desperately. He curled his hand around Bass’s hip and dragged him closer until Bass’s cock rubbed against the hard line of his thigh.
Pleasure ran through Bass’s marrow and pulled his skin tight. There had been a fuck of a lot of reality the last few months—engine grime under his nails, the shabby friendships he needed to barter into opportunities, broken noses under his knuckles for the hundred bucks they owed the club. He wanted the lie of this, the hot doctor on his knees for some rough trade, without any of the details that would make him wonder if this was a good idea.
“You obviously haven’t done this before,” he said as he broke the kiss. “I don’t need your name or your job, and if you tell me where you live, I’d probably rob you.”
A flash of dark humor creased Doc’s face. “Too late for that,” he muttered. “And I need a name.”
Bass drew back. “Don’t get attached, Doc. Trust me, it’ll end badly.”
“Fightjunkie,” Doc said as he tugged Bass’s head to the side so he could kiss the hollow under his ear—all teeth and eager mouth. “It doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
Yeah, he could have a point about that. The night Bass made his profile, he had a hangover and broken knuckles and was as sick of himself as everyone else got. Eventually. It seemed appropriate enough, and it certainly hadn’t slowed down the steady stream of dick pics.
“Bass,” he said after a pause. It was just a nickname, after all, no more his legal name than his app handle. The only difference was it sounded less aggressively fucked-up. Bass felt a shiver run down his spine as Doc mouthed the name against his throat. “You?”
Doc let go of Bass’s hair and ran his hand down his back, along the tight lines of muscle and under the waistband of his jeans. He stroked the curve of Bass’s ass, and the rain’s chill had finally faded. His skin felt hot where it touched Bass.
“I thought you didn’t need my name,” Doc teased.
He didn’t. Want, though? Kinda, just to even the playing field now that Doc knew his.
“I thought I told you to do what you’re told?”
“Tell me, then,” Doc said. His voice caught in his throat, a dark thrill mixed with stiff uncertainty. He really wasn’t used to being told what to do. “What do you want me to do?”
