“You care a lot about the work your people are doing,” Scott said, cutting the baguette they’d bought into slices. “That’s admirable. But look, here’s the thing I don’t get. If you’re so against this, and it’s your company, why not just say no sale, and be done with it?”
“If it was that easy? In a heartbeat,” Eamon told him. “But it’s more complicated now. Technically, I still have the deciding vote. But the investors have a big chunk of change put into this operation, so they have a lot of say. On balance, I think expansion was probably worth it? But this headache says: maybe rethink that, sucker.”
Scott laughed sympathetically. “Well, if this is a corporate law thing, I won’t pretend to know anything about it. But I’ve got your back, for what that’s worth.”
“It’s worth a lot,” Eamon told him. He looked down into the bottom of his mostly empty wine glass. “Anything I can do, by the way? Instead of just sitting here yammering on about my problems while you do all the work?” The relief that flooded him when Scott seemed to understand his problems, understand that there was so little he could do right now, but that these things would get bigger if he left them untouched, that relief was subsiding, leaving him merely fond and a little shy from having talked so much.
“It’s barely work.” Scott handed Eamon his own wine glass. “You can refill this, if you want. Other than that, we’re almost done.”
Honestly, it felt like magic how he’d gone so quickly from a stack of plastic packages to something that smelled so amazing. Even the salad bowl looked tempting: juicy tomatoes oozing their seeds onto crisp lettuce, a smattering of olives, and the sweet-sour scent of balsamic vinegar bathing the whole thing. On their plates, steam wafted up from perfectly rare steaks piled high with crisply fried onions. Juice dripped from the steaks, just begging to be mopped up with the crusty white bread that threatened to topple from the bowl it was stacked in.
“You’re killing me here,” Eamon groaned. “This looks amazing.”
“Oh, anyone can cook a steak,” Scott said dismissively. “High heat, good meat. That’s the secret.”
“Then explain to me why I don’t eat like this all the time?” Eamon joked.
“You’re just not spending enough time with me, I guess.” Scott took a seat across the table from Eamon. “Go ahead, eat! You know I’m not a fancy guy.”
“Looks fancy enough to me,” Eamon said, but he dug in, only whimpering a little as succulent steak practically exploded on his tongue, crisp onions crackling between his teeth.
“Not too bad, I think,” Scott said, slicing his own steak and watching Eamon make a fool of himself.
“It’s so good.” Eamon took another slice of baguette. “Am I not making enough embarrassing noises for you or something?”
“I won’t say I’m not enjoying that part,” Scott teased with a sly smile. “Though I’m sure there are more embarrassing noises you could make, if we weren’t at dinner.”
A pleasant shiver went up Eamon’s spine. Scott’s words felt like a promise, and Eamon wanted to collect immediately. He restrained himself and poured them both another glass of wine. “But why would I want to rush things?” he lied. “I’m enjoying this immensely.”
“There’s plenty of time,” Scott promised him, eyes dark. Under the table, his socked foot hooked around Eamon’s ankle and rested there.
Eamon grinned. “I might even have seconds.”
“Go ahead,” Scott told him, and started to laugh. “Anyway, did I interrupt you earlier when you were trying to explain corporate law to me? Because we can go back to that if you have more things you need to get off your chest.”
“I’d rather forget about it, honestly,” Eamon told him. “You’re right. There’s definitely nothing I can do about it tonight, and I’ll have more chances as things go on.”
“That’s the spirit! Someone’s going to be make a mistake and you’ll be on that like nobody’s business!”
Eamon couldn’t help laughing at the enthusiasm in Scott’s voice. “I’d rather my employees didn’t make mistakes, you know.”
“Wait.” Scott frowned. “Are the board members your employees still?”
“Not technically.” Eamon made a face. “It’s complicated. But I don’t want to talk about that all evening. I’m here with you now.” He reached out, fingers brushing across the back of Scott’s hand. “How was your day?”
“Seriously wondering if I could make a little extra cash offering clean towels to people caught in storms,” Scott said cheerfully. “Let me tell you about this one couple...”
22
Scott
Eamon couldn’t keep himself from talking about work for the whole duration of dinner, but Scott didn’t really mind. He never knew what to say when Eamon complained about the complexity of his role as CEO versus his role as a board member – he’d barely realized that those were two different things that Eamon did – but he could appreciate the way that Eamon’s cheeks flushed when he was annoyed, and the way his voice sounded as he talked on and on in long looping sentences.
Plus it was cute how embarrassed he got every time he realized he’d lost Scott a long ways back.
At some point, when all the plates had been wiped clean and the bottle of wine was nearly empty, they’d moved to Scott’s couch. Eamon was leaning on Scott’s shoulder, still talking, and Scott was charmed to find that his hair had a faint wave in it as it dried. He ran his fingers through the strands, experimentally, and felt Eamon shiver under his touch.
Eamon laughed, cutting his sentence short. “Is that your way of telling me that I’m too long-winded?”
“Your hair’s a little curly after the rain,” Scott answered.
“Is it?” Eamon made a face. “I need to get it cut then. You wouldn’t believe how terrible it looks when it gets too long.”
“I don’t think it’d be that bad,” Scott said, dragging his fingers across Eamon’s scalp one more time.
Eamon groaned low in the back of his throat. “You only say that because you don’t remember me in high school.”
“Not into haircuts at that stage?”
“No,” Eamon admitted. “And it was a bad decision, I promise you. Where should I go for a trim around here?”
“I still go to the barbershop over on Yewsbury,” Scott said. “It’s been there since long before high school, don’t you remember?”
“Like I said, I was very bad about these things back then,” Eamon said. “I’ll have to make an appointment.”
Scott laughed. “Just walk in like the rest of us.”
Eamon looked a little startled. “Guess that’s one of the good things about a small town,” he said after a moment.
“And he’ll probably ask about your dad too,” Scott told him. “Just that complete small town experience.”
“It’s nice,” Eamon said, leaning back comfortably into Scott’s side. “I missed it when I was back in the city.” He turned a fraction to rub his cheek on Scott’s shoulder. “Missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Scott said, not willing to say anything about how worried he’d been that Eamon would go back to the city and remember all it had to offer. He’d lost too many friends that way, their closeness drifting away as they became more involved in wherever they’d moved to than where they’d come from.
Eamon’s hand hovered for a moment above Scott’s thigh then came to rest, his thumb moving slowly over the seam of Scott’s jeans. Scott pulled him closer, listening to the rain hit the window behind them, Eamon’s breathing soft in the quiet of the room.
“I know I couldn’t stop talking about it all evening,” Eamon said abruptly. “But I do appreciate you trying to take my mind off things tonight. I know I called you up kind of out of the blue.”
“Not out of the blue at all,” Scott said. “I told you to give me a shout when you got back into town after all. Besides,” he looked up at the ceiling, glad Eamon was turned just far enough away not to be able to see his face, “
I was thinking about you all day. Slow day in the shop, you see. What with the rain.”
“Is that so?” There was a low rumble to Eamon’s amusement now that made Scott want to kiss him again. “What kind of things were you thinking of? In the shop.”
“Oh, wildly inappropriate ones,” Scott said airily. “Your hands, for example. How they curl around a glass.”
“And could curl around other things?”
Scott laughed. “You said it, not me.” He ran his fingers down Eamon’s side. “Not much to imagine left in these fitted clothes, but I’d still like to rip them off you.”
“I don’t have the legs of a cyclist under here,” Eamon teased. “You should know what you’re getting into.”
“Maybe I don’t know,” Scott said. “But that’s what’s fun, isn’t it? Finding out?” He glanced down at the top of Eamon’s head and found Eamon’s eyes instead, Eamon’s face tilted up to watch him. Heat rose in the back of his neck.
“You’re so cute,” Eamon told him. “Saying all those things, and then blushing about them? Adorable.”
“I’m a man of action,” Scott said. “Work with my hands, you know. Better with those than with words.”
“So you say.” Eamon’s gaze was slyly earnest. “But yet I’m still sitting here fully dressed.”
“If you wanted to not be,” Scott said, “All you had to do was ask.” He leaned down for the kiss, hardly minding the crick in his neck from the awkward angle, wanting only to feel Eamon’s soft, soft lips once more. Eamon twisted for easier access, slipped, and ended up lying across Scott’s lap, looking up at him with amusement and lust mixed in his gaze.
Eamon’s arms reaching up to twine about his neck, Scott bent down to meet Eamon halfway.
This wasn’t really a better position to kiss in, but that didn’t keep fireworks from going off in Scott’s skull anyway. Eamon was much more shameless than he’d been in the street, licking his way into Scott’s mouth, groaning with pleasure as Scott’s hand slid under the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. His hands clutched at Scott’s t-shirt and released it again, moving in time with the arching of his back, the motion of his mouth on Scott’s.
His lips were perfectly plush, soft and warm, tasting faintly of wine when Scott flicked his tongue over them and into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth.
They were both panting when Scott pulled back to ask, “Is this killing your neck?”
“Is it killing yours?” Eamon groaned. He let himself fall back onto Scott’s knees and reached up to touch Scott’s face. “Come down here then.”
“You come up,” Scott said. He leaned into Eamon’s touch, turning his head to kiss Eamon’s palm. He could feel Eamon’s shiver and it seemed like it was lighting a fire within him, making him want more and more of that sensation.
A few moments of reposition later, which Scott had largely contributed to by grabbing Eamon’s ass, Eamon was no longer lying over Scott’s lap, but straddling it, his jeans stretched tight across his thighs.
Scott pulled him close with a satisfied groan, running his hands down Eamon’s back to cup the globes of his plump ass, and luxuriating in Eamon’s eager response. Their mouths met again without another word spoken, lips pressing and releasing, breath growing short in Scott’s lungs as he tried to hold on for as long as he could, unwilling to release the kiss.
Chest heaving, Eamon finally pulled away, but his gray eyes fell to Scott’s mouth almost at once and Scott could almost hear his thoughts, he was so sure that Eamon wanted nothing more than to go back to that kiss, the same as him. He sucked in a breath, let it out, and bent forward again, one hand on Eamon’s jaw, the other still enjoying the curve of Eamon’s ass.
He squeezed a little and Eamon ground down against him, their cocks aligning through their jeans, their breathing syncing up until it felt almost as if they were one person. Scott wanted to see Eamon, not just to feel him, and to feel him without any barriers between them.
“Hey,” he said, desperation making his voice rough. “You want to go upstairs and do this on a real bed?”
23
Eamon
Upstairs, even while he was stripping, Eamon couldn’t help but look around at Scott’s bedroom. A small pile of laundry on the floor hinted that Scott hadn’t planned this at all today, but the bed was surprisingly neatly made, and the room had a cosy, well-used look. On the bed, Scott sprawled out, naked, and Eamon let his eyes drag down Scott’s body, taking in his lover for the first time.
From the tawny hair on his chest to the slim hips and thick thighs, Scott looked simply edible. Eamon’s gaze caught on one detail, then another, circling around the real object of his interest – and the only one he couldn’t really have guessed at from the outside. Standing up against his belly, Scott’s cock was thick and hard, dark with arousal, and utterly enticing.
For his part, Scott seemed to take Eamon’s hungry gaze in stride, stretching himself out to his full length on the sheets and watching Eamon through half-lidded eyes. “You going to watch all night?” he asked, his own eyes traveling up and down Eamon’s form. He looked as though he was enjoying the sight.
“Honestly,” Eamon said, as he crawled onto the bed, “I could.”
“Yeah?” Scott’s voice was deeper than usual, a rumble that sent sparks flying through Eamon’s nerves. “Should I put on a show?” He reached for his cock, enveloping the shaft in one large hand. A picture that made Eamon’s own dick ache for that kind of pressure.
“As hot as that is,” Eamon said slowly, crawling up the bed to look Scott in the eye. “I need you to touch me too much for that.”
“Touch you?” Scott teased. “Anywhere in particular?” He snaked a hand around Eamon’s back, stroking his fingertips down Eamon’s spine and leaving tingling nerve endings in his wake.
“Anywhere you like,” Eamon told him. He lowered himself down until they were chest to chest, cock to cock. Scott radiated heat, his whole body pressed up against Eamon’s like an embrace. Everything was new and yet, at the same time, it felt like coming home. He kissed Scott again and let his body figure out what to do next.
Scott’s hands roamed down Eamon’s back, cupping his ass, delicately scratching down his spine. Eamon rocked down against Scott, their cocks rubbing against each other, the friction pushing Eamon higher and higher.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Right there.” Their kisses were molten now, the heat pulsing through his body like the throb of his blood. His hands slid across smooth planes of muscle, exploring and mapping, cataloguing the spot on Scott’s collarbones that made his whole body writhe, the delicate tenderness of the flesh on the inside of his wrist.
Against Eamon’s belly, Scott was rock-hard, his thick cock practically daring Eamon with how much better it would feel inside him. Eamon began to slide slowly down the bed, kissing Scott’s body as he went. He lapped at dusky nipples, feeling the hard nub on his tongue and the catch of hair against his cheek. Dipping his tongue into Scott’s navel made Scott shiver, and so did trailing his fingers along the ridges of Scott’s abs, drawing closer and closer to his prize.
Lying now between Scott’s legs, Eamon began to kiss his thighs, teeth grazing over ropy muscle and occasionally leaving little dark spots to bloom into bruises. In front of him, Scott’s cock twitched with every kiss, the slick wetness at the head practically begging Eamon for mercy, for friction, for something other than this unending teasing.
Eamon wanted it too, wanted to feel the heft on his tongue, the stretch of his lips around Scott’s girth. Holding the base in one hand, he lowered his head slowly to the crown, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the shaft.
“Oh, fuck,” Scott murmured from far away. Eamon was too busy now to care. Scott tasted like sex and man and everything Eamon wanted, his thickness pressing into Eamon’s throat as Eamon swallowed around him.
Scott was so careful as Eamon fucked his throat on Scott’s cock. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t so frustratin
g. He wanted everything Scott could give him – had wanted it for what felt like ages now.
He pinched Scott’s thigh, and grinned around the weight in his mouth as Scott yelped. “Give it to me,” he said, letting Scott’s cock slip out of his mouth, sliding past his lips, salt on his tongue. “Really give it to me.”
Looking startled, Scott pushed himself up on one elbow, curling forward to reach with the other hand for Eamon’s cheek. He met Eamon’s eyes, his own dark with lust, and whatever he saw there seemed to decide him because as Eamon pressed himself down Scott’s shaft again, he began to thrust up to meet him.
Really, the only trouble with this plan was that it let Eamon see just how good Scott was with those hips, and now there was no way Scott was getting out of this without fucking Eamon. He loosened his jaw, let Scott fuck past his lips again and again, and considered the possibilities.
“You’re so good,” Scott was muttering. “Feel so fucking good.” The praise spiraled into wordless groaning, spiraled out again. Eamon almost missed the moment when it changed, when “Fuck, you’re amazing,” became, “Fuck, I’m going to come.”
Of course, Eamon realized after a moment, he should have expected Scott to be this sweet. He pulled off as Scott’s hips rose off the bed, savoring the sharp cry from Scott’s lips, and grinned up at Scott from between his thighs. “You can’t come yet,” he said easily. “I want you to fuck me first.”
“Yeah,” Scott said slowly. “Anytime,” and Eamon felt a long slow shiver travel up his spine.
He was too eager to let Scott prep him with as much care as Scott wanted, and there was a sting to it when Scott’s thick cock was finally pushing its way inside him, but Eamon didn’t care. He wanted that stretch, that sting. He wanted to know that Scott was here with him and giving him everything he needed.
Scott rolled his hips as he thrust and Eamon’s head sank down onto his arms, resting on the pillow in front of him. “You okay?” Scott said quietly.
Love in Tandem Page 13
