“Do you know how hard it is to find someone to tattoo a corpse?” he asked. “At short notice?”
Clay snorted and leaned in to grab a kiss from the corner of Grade’s mouth.
“Sometimes you make being romantic hard.” He slid his hand down over Grade’s ass and pushed a slippery finger into him. Grade sucked in his breath in reaction, and his hands spread out against the wall. “Lucky we’re just here to fuck, huh?”
Grade made a noise in the back of his throat that was probably agreement. When Clay pushed a second finger into him, he rose up onto his toes; the long lines of muscle over his ribs and down his flanks were pulled tight and defined under his skin. Clay caught his hip and pulled him back down. He scraped a series of wet, stubble-rough kisses down Grade’s neck, the skin red and tender under his mouth.
“Say it,” he rasped as he worked Grade’s hole wider.
Grade squirmed in place, his breath quick and ragged as he tried to catch it. “Make me.”
Clay chuckled against the crook of Grade’s shoulder and then bit down roughly on the slope of muscle.
“I will,” he said. “Like you said, you don’t have all night. I fucking do.”
Clay slid his hand over Grade’s hip and across his tight, flat stomach. He could feel the twitch of muscle and skin under his palm as he lingered for a moment. Then he trailed his fingers down, through the sparse fluff of hair that arrowed down from Grade’s navel, until he wrapped them roughly around Grade’s cock. He twisted his hand as he pulled back, the thin skin creased under his grip.
“Fuck,” Grade moaned and let his head fall back, his eyes squinted shut.
“Not until you say it,” Clay said. He slid sticky fingers out of Grade’s ass and wiped them on his leg. “What’s the magic word?”
Rather than say it, Grade bit his lips together like a kid. Clay snorted, grabbed the back of Grade’s head, and chewed his mouth open for a kiss. It was hard and impatient, all tongue and teeth and Grade’s breath in Clay’s mouth.
Clay pressed against Grade’s back, his cock nudged up against the slippery crack of his ass, and—fuck—he wanted Grade to fold. He was so hard it hurt, the throb of his cock something he could feel in his spine. Except he’d run his mouth, and he didn’t like to lose.
“Say please,” he demanded around Grade’s tongue in his mouth.
Grade tilted his head back, and maybe he was going to say it. If he was, it got lost in the groan that escaped him as Clay squeezed the base of his cock. His thumb pressed down, and he could feel the pulse of Grade’s heartbeat as the blood was trapped.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Fuck you,” Grade said. It would have had more bite if he’d not thrust his hips forward, fucking his cock into Clay’s fist. “Please.”
“Please what?” Clay asked.
“Fuck me,” Grade begged as he gave in. “Clay. Please?”
Finally. Clay didn’t know how long he could have dragged this out. He wasn’t exactly known for his self-control when it came to what he wanted. And right now, he wanted Grade.
Clay let go of Grade’s cock, ignoring the whimper of protest, and reached down between their bodies. The familiar touch—sex was always better with someone else, but nobody knew his cock like his own hand—zapped little jolts of sticky-sweet pleasure back into his balls. He rubbed his thumb along the shaft, up to the lip of the slick, flushed head, and pressed it against Grade’s ass.
It slid between the lube-wet curves of taut muscle and stalled as it hit the wet, puckered hole. Clay bit the inside of his cheek as he felt the pressure ache down the length of his cock and into his balls. He flexed his fingers against Grade’s shoulder, his weight braced on it, and pushed harder.
A raw, hungry noise escaped Grade’s throat, and his splayed fingers dug into the wall as Clay’s cock slid into him. He tipped his head forward to rest against his forearm, the exposed nape of his neck bare and vulnerable.
“I told you it was worth asking nice for,” Clay said harshly, the words dry in his throat as his cock spread Grade’s ass open around it. “You should have listened.”
Grade snorted without lifting his head.
“If the sex wasn’t good,” he said, “I’d not be here.”
“Far be it from me not to live up to expectations.”
Clay buried himself in Grade with one last thrust, his crotch pressed against the curve of Grade’s ass and the front of his dry-clean-only dress trousers wet with a mixture of pre-come and lube. He stayed there for a second, the clutch of Grade’s ass warm and tight around him, while Grade swore softly into the wall.
The second he relaxed, the muscles across his back loosened into it, Clay hooked his arm around Grade’s throat, fingers wrapped around the point of his shoulder, and fucked him.
Thoroughly.
