Page 87 of Just the Pool Boy at Vampire Mansion

“No chance, Freckles. I’m takin’ you there, baby.”

If he kept going, I’d be done, and I didn’t want to be done yet. I’d waited too long, wanted it too hard, been so alone for so long, that I was not about to come before I’d gotten my hands on him.

I tugged his hair gently and he came up slowly, hands climbing my body the whole way. When he was on his feet, I got my hands flat on his bare chest and pushed, walking him backward.

He went. Eyebrows up, grinning, stumbling backward across the carpet. I walked him toward the bed, both hands on him and no plan beyond the next ten seconds.

“Look at you,” he said. “Taking charge. I like this guy.”

“I let him out sometimes.”

“You should let him out more often.”

The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he dropped, sprawling across his dark covers.

I stood there a second, just looking. Theo Witherborne, shirt half off his shoulders, pants slung low and going lower, all of his cool melted off him, leaving him flushed and breathing hard. He looked up at me like he wasn’t sure what came next either. This wasn’t the Instagram version of him, the one with his arms around three women laughing at something out of shot. This was just Theo at his most honest, and my heart did a little flip-flop seeing him there, waiting for me to make the next move.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

As though he needed the affirmation. Theo was built like a Greek statue and knew it. “Just trying to figure you out.” I climbed onto the bed and decided to go for it before my habit of overthinking everything could convince me to back out.

I got his pants and boxers down and off, fumbled it a little, knocked my own elbow on his knee and said sorry on reflex, which made him snort a laugh.

“So cute,” he mumbled.

Having never seen a vampire’s dick before, I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. Extra bits, maybe. Some kind of warning label? But it was just a dick, a real good one, flushed dark and hard, curving up thick toward his stomach with a bead of wetness already gathering at the tip. My brain chimed in with that’s gonna be a stretch. I wanted the stretch, wanted my jaw and other parts aching with him, wanted to feel it the next day.

Another noticeable part was the Prince Albert piercing.

“I can take it out, if you want?” Theo propped himself up, watching with his lip caught in his teeth like he couldn’t believe I was down here about to do this. Neither could I.

“No, nope, no, definitely no.”

It was, as dicks went, definitely a good one. I wanted it in my mouth, down my throat, wanted to wreck him with it about as bad as I’d ever wanted anything in my life. Then I leaned down and took him in my mouth, and a moan crawled up his throat.

The small curved barbell piercing felt cool, briefly, then warmed.

His fingers dug into the sheets, scrunching them into his fists.

I’m not going to pretend I’m an expert, it had been years. But I remembered the shape of how this went, and more than that, I wanted it to be good for him, wanted to find the exact things that took that quick clever mouth and shut it up. So I went slow. I paid attention. I learned him by inches—what made his breath stutter, what made his hand fist tighter in the covers, what made that low growl climb out of him when I did the thing with my tongue again. I took him apart on purpose, carefully, one piece at a time, and watched the gorgeous Witherborne heir fall apart.

“Owen.” His fingers found my hair. “Owen, holy shit. Don’t stop. Do more of that. Yes, that. Right there. Fuck.”

I had no intention of stopping. For once I knew exactly what I wanted and why, and it had nothing to do with money or a job or keeping my head down. I was doing it because I wanted him to feel like I’d felt a few minutes ago. To feel like the only thing in the room. Like somebody had finally looked at all of him, the hot mess, real him, and decided to stay.

He started babbling again. Theo, the king of sassy one-liners, reduced to my name and a string of curses and “please” with no joke attached. I’d have paid him back his three hundred bucks to hear it. I’d have done this for free.

And the strange thing was how easy it was.

I’d spent two years being careful Owen in prison, good Owen out of it, the version of me that didn’t scare anybody and didn’t get involved, and he’d spent his whole life being the Theo on the other side of someone’s screen, the heir with the weight of centuries on his back. The face of the generation of vampires that had to live with the coming out. And here, with the blind down and the party below us, neither one of us had to be something we weren’t. I couldn’t do this with anyone else. I was starting to think he couldn’t either. That was our whole thing, really.

Just two guys who’d run out of places to hide, finally not hiding with each other.

We had a long way to go. I knew that. But you gotta start somewhere.

This was as good a somewhere as any.

He was close, I could feel it in the strumming of his body and the way his words had gone quiet, turning into heavy breathing.