Boyd didn’t say anything for a moment. His breath was warm against the back of Morgan’s neck as he exhaled. Morgan clenched his jaw against the urge to reach back and shove his head away.
“Okay,” Boyd said.
It was twisted how much it pissed Morgan off when Boyd did what he wanted. He didn’t want to talk about the money, and Boyd didn’t want to talk about the money. It was the definition of a win.
“Maybe I fucked someone for it,” he said into the dark.
Boyd snorted. “It’s ten grand. That’s not the going rate.”
“How would you know? I thought firefighters got ass for free?”
He felt Boyd shrug behind him, a shift of his weight on the bed. “It’s surprising, or not, how many sex workers lock themselves in hotel bathrooms,” he said. “So you’re going?”
Morgan pulled Boyd’s hand down to his cock and wrapped his long, callused fingers around the shaft. “One last fuck for the road,” he said. “To remember me by.”
The dull ache in his chest, a mix of self-pity and irritation, faded as Boyd worked his hand along his cock. He swore, low and thick in his throat, and Boyd dragged his thumb roughly over the slick head. Pleasure pulsed between his legs, his balls tender and his stomach tight as his cock hardened. It slid, thick and come slick, through the tight channel of Boyd’s fist.
“So what?” Boyd asked as he kissed Morgan’s throat. His cock rubbed against Morgan’s ass as he moved closer, and his lean, muscled body pressed against Morgan from shoulder to thigh. “You’re just going to forget about me?”
Morgan reached back. He scruffed Boyd’s neck with a rough hand and twisted his head to kiss him.
“I’m going to try,” he said.
Boyd snorted. It was too dim in the bedroom to make out anything but the vague lines of his face, his jaw, and his temple, but Morgan could feel Boyd’s smile under his mouth. “I thought we talked about you being an asshole.”
That wasn’t why Morgan said it. If he rememberedthis, the taste of Boyd’s sweat and his hand on Morgan’s cock, he wouldn’t get very far out of town.
“You don’t think I mean it,” Morgan said.
Boyd rolled his eyes at him and shifted position, weight propped on his elbow and his cock pushed between Morgan’s thighs. It rubbed against him with each stroke of Boyd’s fist down his cock, the head hard and wet as it rubbed over Morgan’s taint from ass to balls.
Lust pulled tight in his stomach, a hard knot of it that dragged at his stomach and thighs. Boyd moaned against his shoulder and hooked a leg over Morgan’s. He thrust against him, cock squeezed tight between Morgan’s thighs, and twisted his hand around the base of Morgan’s cock at the same time. Again. It slid easier this time as sweat and come mixed under his fingers.
Morgan reached back and grabbed Boyd’s ass, and the ripe curve of muscle clenched as he dug his fingers into it.
Damp from their bodies, the sheets tangled under them and caught around their legs. Boyd kissed his shoulders and throat as he rode Morgan’s ass.
He slid his fingers away from Morgan’s cock to grab his hip. He mumbled something against Morgan’s throat, his mouth soft and tongue wet as he spoke, but Morgan didn’t catch it. He pressed his thighs together and made Boyd whimper instead with a ragged gasp Boyd stifled against his shoulder. The curve of muscle under Morgan’s fingers twitched hard.
Yeah, that was enough.
Morgan pulled away from Boyd and stretched over the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes and flicked on the lights.
“Son of a bitch,” Boyd swore as he recoiled back into the bed. He sprawled out on his back, cock wet and slick as it lay on his belly, with his arm slung over his eyes to protect them from the glare. “What’s wrong with you?”
Nothing that Morgan wanted Boyd to know about. He grabbed a condom and lube from the bedside drawer and crawled back over the bed to straddle Boyd. This was definitely better, he thought smugly as he admired the view.
“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked.
Boyd lifted his elbow to peer out from under it. “Sure,” he said. “If you want. I’ll do anything you want me to.”
Morgan made a sour face. “You shouldn’t make those sorts of promises,” he said.
“It’s not a contract,” Boyd pointed out with a grin, the careless sort that made him look like a goofball. Sometimes Boyd was so normal that Morgan didn’t know how to deal with it, although he knew Boyd was fucked-up in his own way. Boyd ran his hand along Morgan’s thighs, traced the tight muscles with his fingers. “And I trust you.”
There it was. Morgan wished he could ignore it, but he couldn’t.
“Why?” he asked.
