A small, clear, and very outnumbered voice noted in the back of Boyd’s head that it probably wasn’t so good forhimthat Morgan knew that. It was a bit late to worry about it, though.
“You could just shut up,” Boyd suggested, “and get on with it.”
Morgan raised dark-blond eyebrows in response to the challenge. He leaned in and chewed a kiss into the underside of Boyd’s jaw with teeth and tongue and the tight, wet suction of his mouth. Boyd swore, his voice thin and ragged as he sucked in a breath and Morgan licked up his cheek.
“I can do that,” Morgan murmured against his ear, close enough that his stubble tickled as he gave Boyd’s ass a quick squeeze. He adjusted his grip, sweatpants tugged down and caught across Boyd’s hips, and picked him up to flip him over onto his back on the couch. Morgan shifted around, one knee under him, and propped himself up over Boyd. “See?”
Boyd spluttered for a second. He wasn’t used to being manhandled or loomed over. It was probably weird how hot he thought it was, lust slippery and hot as it twisted in the pit of his stomach. He propped himself on his elbows to stretch up and skim a kiss over the corner of Morgan’s mouth.
“Is that your way of saying you want to go on top?” he asked.
Morgan pulled back from him. There was something hard and sharp around his mouth and the set of his jaw, but it was gone before Boyd could really identify it. Morgan cupped his face in one hand, palm almost hot, and rubbed the pad of his thumb hard over Boyd’s mouth.
“Looks like I already am,” he said. “Any objections?”
Boyd caught the pad of Morgan’s thumb between his teeth and sucked it lewdly. After a second, he let it slip from his mouth.
“I can roll with it.”
Morgan’s mouth slanted with a flash of dark humor. He lowered himself down on top of Boyd, the lazy sprawl of his long body heavy. He could feel the nudge of Morgan’s erection against his thigh and his own cock trapped between their bodies. It throbbed with thick, heavy pleasure with every breath Morgan took.
“Oh, you will.” Morgan dropped the promise and a kiss against Boyd’s mouth. “Later.”
He reached down and over Boyd’s hip to tug at his sweatpants. The band scraped over Boyd’s cock until the hard length of it slid free. Morgan wrapped his hand around it with a growl of appreciation as he dragged his wet thumb over the head.
“Fuck,” Boyd groaned as he arched his hips against Morgan. He reached back over his head and hooked his arm around the arm of the couch. The leather was cold as he dug his fingers into it.
Morgan smiled against his throat as he tugged at Boyd’s cock with quick, rough strokes. He tightened his fingers around it, and Boyd swore and squirmed against the cushions. Sex was like the job. It pinned his attention down into his own skin. The static distractions of the rest of the world fell away, and all that was left was the heavy weight of need in his balls and the champagne fizz of raw nerves under wet skin.
It was the trade of slick, impatient kisses and Morgan’s skin under Boyd’s mouth. The sound of skin and leather and then Boyd’s hand on the back of Morgan’s neck as he dragged him closer. There was a scar under his jaw, a comma of proud flesh half-hidden under the heavy line of bone and scruff of tawny beard, and divots had been taken out of the knuckles he brushed over Boyd’s cheek. It was oddly gentle for a second, almost tentative.
“You know, Mac told me to stay away from you,” Morgan said as he slid his hand back to tangle his fingers in Boyd’s short dark hair and cup his palm around the back of his skull. “He was real worried I’d lead you astray. Guess you’ll be wanting to keep this our little secret.”
He squeezed Boyd’s balls as he asked that—hard enough to make Boyd hiss in protest as he bucked his hips up off the couch, but not hard enough for him to ask Morgan to stop or to miss the way Morgan waited smugly for an answer.
It sounded like a shakedown, a threat of exposure thatcouldturn into a promise of silence in return for… whatever. Boyd’s spare couch, maybe. It was probably more than what he had in the bank right now. It probably was. Mac had filled Boyd in on Morgan’s record and the shady dealings the copshadn’tbeen able to pin on him. A smart man would take Morgan at face value.
Smart people didn’t have a GED and an extra goddamn couch in their living room, though.
“You don’t get secrets in small towns,” Boyd said as he gave Morgan a shove. “And Mac doesn’t get a say in what I do. Or who. Move.”
Morgan moved back without objection. He sat back on his knees, faded denim dragged tight over his groin, and shrugged.
“Whatever,” he said. “I get it. Big talk, but you don’t want anyone to know the town’s golden boy—”
Boyd rolled his eyes and sat up. His cock protested the movement, his ass and stomach still tight with the expectation that he was about to come. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Morgan’s jeans and yanked him up into a clumsy, off-balance kiss. Morgan exhaled in surprise and then hesitated, cautious as he brushed his hands over Boyd’s shoulder and hip.
“You don’t know me.” Boyd unzipped Morgan’s fly and pushed his jeans down over his lean hips. His cock was hard, flushed with arousal as it pressed flat across his stomach, and his balls were smooth as Boyd slid his hand down to cup them. “So don’t pretend you do.”
He pushed Morgan back into the couch and knelt down on the floor. Boyd kissed his way down the tight splay of muscle and tanned skin while Morgan sprawled back, arms cocked over the back of the couch and thighs spread. His muscles were tense and his breath ragged, caught behind his tongue as Boyd scraped his teeth over the tight ridges of Morgan’s abs and flicked his tongue into the dip of his navel. The ugly flush of the bruise just under Morgan’s ribs made him pause.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A dickhead,” Morgan snorted. “It’s fine.”
Boyd kissed the mark anyhow with a careful, feathered graze of his lips so he didn’t make it worse.
Kiss it better, flicked through his head. He dismissed it with an internal snort. It wasn’t that sort of sex.
