The back of Tag’s legs hit the cushions, and he dropped onto the couch. He sprawled back and looked up at Bass. “So what you’ve got going for you is all of that”—he gestured up and down with his finger—“and a bike?”
“It’s usually enough.” Bass leaned in and braced his arms on the back of the couch, either side of Tag’s head. “What? It’s doing it for you.”
Tag hooked his fingers into the waistband of Bass’s jeans and tugged. “Why don’t you do me and—”
His stomach interrupted him with a gurgled complaint that sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher talking. Tag grimaced and pressed his free hand down on his stomach as though that would shut it up.
Bass stared at him for a moment, and then his composure cracked on a laugh. He shook his head as he folded himself down into Tag’s lap.
“Seriously,” he managed to get out through his laughter as he pressed a quick kiss on Tag’s mouth. “You are shit at dirty talk. It ain’t hard. Just tell me to fuck you some sorta way and then add that my cock’s the hardest or biggest or something. Beg me to get you off.”
Tag rubbed his hand over his eyes to block out Bass’s grin. He was vaguely embarrassed about the ill-timed noise from his stomach, but it wasn’t worth more than a flustered “sorry.” It was Bass’s grin, inexplicably delighted by the stupid noise, and the heavy weight of him sprawled over Tag’s thighs that he couldn’t deal with.
It felt real, even if it wasn’t.
“Fuck off,” Tag muttered, mostly to Bass, a little bit to himself.
Bass snorted against Tag’s throat. “Getting closer, but you still haven’t quite gotten the hang of it, Doc.” He sat back, weight against Tag’s thighs, and grabbed the bottom of his top to pull it up. “Maybe it’s a bit advanced for you? Try being silent but grateful. Just moan a lot and throw my name into the mix every now and again.”
Tag snorted and lifted his arms to squirm out of the shirt.
“If I’m that bad,” Tag grumbled into the bleached folds of material as he dragged the shirt over his head, “what exactly are you doing here?”
Bass laughed. He ran his hands down Tag’s sides in an impatient caress and bit a string of kisses along his shoulder.
“Well, I have no complaints about the sex, just the talking about it. Besides, I bet a smart guy like you helped tutor a few of the slower students in math and stuff when you were a kid,” Bass said. “Same principle.”
Tag snarled under his breath as he tossed his shirt onto the floor. He lifted his hips and rolled both of them over so it was Bass sprawled out under him on the couch. The heavy nudge of his cock pressed against Tag’s stomach as Bass stretched, all solid muscle and bone.
“So that last chance to ask you to leave,” Tag said. “Is it too late to take you up on that?”
The smirk on Bass’s mouth deepened into a grin. He cupped his hand around the nape of Tag’s neck and pulled him down.
“That?” he drawled as he nipped Tag’s lower lip and tugged. “Oh, that was a lie, Doc. I’m not going anywhere tonight. Now, if you’re still hungry….” He tightened his fingers as he scruffed Tag and pushed down. “I’ve got something you can put in your mouth.”
“Seriously?” Tag asked. “That’s your master class in dirty talk?”
Bass let go of him and folded his arms behind his head. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and tilted his head to the side. “Did it work?”
“What?”
The grin on Bass’s face widened. “Now I’ve said it, do you wanna suck my cock?”
Tag narrowed his eyes. “No.”
Bass folded his lower lip between his teeth and shrugged easily. “Pad Thai’s in the fridge, then,” he said and shifted under Tag. His cock pushed against Tag’s hip, insistent now. “I’ll have taken care of myself by the time you get back.”
He waited, eyebrows raised expectantly. Tag glared at him.
“It’d serve you right if I did,” he said.
The grin got away from Bass. Wide and charming as it crinkled the corners of his eyes, it was hard to resist. “You aren’t going to, though. Are you, Doc?”
Tag really,reallywished he could call his bluff. Unfortunately Bass was right. He really did want to, now that he thought about it.
“Shut up,” he grumbled. He shifted back onto his knees and looked up the stretch of Bass’s laid-out body. Old jeans clung to his legs and sagged around his hips, and the stark lines of his ink showed like faded shadows through his T-shirt.
“Make me,” Bass said, a note of challenge in his voice as he spread his thighs. Worn denim pulled tight and threadbare over his groin. “I’ve got nothing else to do tonight. So show me what you got, Doc.”
