For a moment Bass almost spent the chit on Doc’s name. But that would have been a waste when there were so many other things he wanted to do. Besides, if Bass still wanted to know when they were done? If Doc wouldn’t tell him whatever he wanted, he’d have really lost his touch.
Instead he smirked and twisted his hands in the wet silk of Doc’s shirt and tugged him in tightly against his body. He pressed a quick, hard kiss against the pulse that fluttered in Doc’s neck.
“Whatever I want,” he whispered against the wet skin. Then he gave Doc a shove.
The fine white shirt ripped open, and the mother-of-pearl buttons, torn from their moorings, pinged onto the floor. Doc stumbled backward and sprawled over the couch, all long legs and a vaguely aggrieved expression. Bass tugged a packet of lube out of his pocket before he unfastened his jeans and pushed them down over his hips. His cock nudged up toward his stomach, tight and eager as he kicked the tangled denim from under his feet. Bass tossed the foil packet onto the coffee table and then wrapped his fingers around his erection. He stroked the length of it and then squeezed. The quick discomfort in the shaft mellowed to liquid pleasure by the time it reached his balls.
“Take your pants off, Doc.”
Doc obediently hitched his hips up off the couch as he fumbled with his trousers, his attention fixed on Bass. He finally managed to undo the buttons and impatiently shove the pants down toward his knees. That left him with a pair of fitted black briefs, his cock a hard ridge under the tight fabric. Doc palmed his erection through the cotton and rubbed it roughly.
Bass didn’t know why that was hot as fuck. It just was. Maybe because Doc didn’t look away as he did it. His eyes, so dark they looked black, stayed focused on Bass as Doc bit his lip and tugged his cock with impatient fingers.
“You missing something important to be here?” Bass asked. He pumped his hand along the hard shaft of his cock as he walked over to the couch. Doc licked his lips and squirmed, his palm pressed against his cock as he glanced from the hard jut of Bass’s wet cock up to his face as though he couldn’t decide what made him go hard quicker. “Jilted some lady at the altar? Ditched an award ceremony?”
Doc snorted. “Last girl who thought I was a good bet as a husband was Marcie Green. We were five, and she married my Action Man instead,” he said. He set his jaw for a second with a flash of something dark that cut through the haze of lust, and his voice hardened. “Never work with your ex. Mine brought his new boyfriend, who he fucked behind my back, to a fundraiser. I wasn’t in the mood to stomach it.”
“He hotter than me?” Bass asked as crawled onto the couch, one knee braced between Doc’s sprawled thighs.
“Who?”
Bass pulled Doc’s hands away from his cock—he ignored the low noise of protest Doc made—and pinned them against the couch. He leaned down until he could feel Doc’s breath, warm and uneven from arousal, against his mouth.
“Either of them,” he said.
“No,” Doc answered immediately, his voice harsh with thoughtless honesty. Regret caught up with him a second later as he grimaced guiltily and tilted his head back. His throat worked as he tried to swallow what he’d just said, as though that would mean it weren’t true. “That’s not—”
This time Bass kissed him just to shut him up. He didn’t much care if Doc wasn’t over his pencil-neck ex, but that didn’t mean he wanted to waste any time on it. After a startled second Doc stretched up into the kiss, his mouth wet and aggressive as he chased the kiss back over Bass’s lips. He strained against Bass’s grip on his arms, the tendons in his wrists tight against his fingers.
“Learn to shut up when you’re winning,” Bass told him with one last scraped bite to Doc’s lips. He lowered himself onto the long sprawl of the other man’s body, his cock pressed up against the flat plane of his tight stomach. The pressure dragged a low, ragged noise out of Doc’s throat as he squirmed under Bass. “I’m hot, and I’m going to fuck you. Enjoy.”
“Oh, because there’s nothing in it for you,” Doc said, a hint of something between dry and bitter in his voice. “Just doing me out of charity?”
“I was bored,” Bass said. He thrust against Doc’s stomach, precome and sweat slick as his cock slid between their bodies. “And you clean up good.”
Doc laughed. It squinted his eyes and creased his cheeks with a flash of dark humor that made Bass’s mouth go dry. Like Doc’s voice, his tux, and the hard, practicality of his body, it hit a bunch of buttons Bass didn’t know he had.
“Maybe I should change my profile pic,” he said.
Bass smirked as he looked down at Doc’s face. His hair was wet and unruly, his lips reddened, and there were spit-wet bruises on his collarbones. The holiday photo he had now was hot enough, if a bit cheesy, but if he’d looked like this when Bass opened his profile? Bass would have gone to him… even in the rain.
Despite that thought, gravelly resistance swelled in Bass’s chest at the prospect. He didn’t want to spend too much time on why, but he didn’t like the idea.
He pushed himself against Doc’s stomach again with a hard thrust that ground his cock against smooth skin and rough hair. Pleasure tightened in his balls and the backs of his thighs, an impatient ache for more. Under him Doc choked out a curse between his teeth and arched into the contact.
“Shut up,” Bass told him genially, “and let me fuck you.”
He let go of Doc’s wrists and kissed his way down his body, from his bruised collarbone to his lean chest. His pink nipples tightened, puckered into tight buds as Bass scraped his teeth and tongue over them. Doc groaned and tangled his fingers in Bass’s hair, his breathing ragged and muscles tight as he struggled for control.
There was a scar under his ribs, a folded dip of flesh ridged with old stitch marks and almost lost in the bony shadow. The skin was tight under Bass’s tongue, slick where it had knit back together, and Doc hissed uncomfortably when he lingered.
Bass left it and squirmed lower. The taste of his own come was sharp and musky against his tongue as he bit kisses down Doc’s stomach, the dark trail of hair matted and sticky under his tongue until he reached the thin barrier of black cotton.
“Fuck,” Doc groaned thickly as Bass mouthed at the ridge of his cock through his briefs. Spit soaked the fabric as Bass worked his way from the tight curve of his balls to the precome-sticky head. He braced his arm across Doc’s hips to pin him down as he sucked with wet, messy enthusiasm at the heavy rise of flesh. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Bass chuckled around a mouthful of cotton and cock. “I thought you were a doctor,” he said. “Blue balls never killed anyone.”
“Great,” Doc said breathlessly. “I’ll finally get to make medical precedent.”
