by Jay Hogan
It came as no surprise that I enjoyed his company immensely. I knew that already from our time in the coffee shop, but his quirky nature and scathing wit had me doubled over in laughter more than once. It was clear he still wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of an “us,” remaining a bit skittish over eye contact and any innuendo, but I thought I was maybe winning him over inch by inch, and it still surprised me how much I wanted the chance. The old me would’ve been awkward and uneasy with the whole idea, and I was kind of waiting for a gut-churning wake-up call to remind me I didn’t do this shit, but so far, nothing. Look at me, all grown-up and shit.
“I can’t believe you actually made this bread.” I put my fork down after a second huge serving and leaned back on my chair. “Man, I’m stuffed.” I patted my stomach appreciatively, not missing the way Drake’s eyes tracked the movement. To that end I added a small scratch and a glimpse of skin.
He hummed as his gaze flitted to my face. “You did that deliberately.”
I smirked. “My lips are sealed.”
His eyes darkened. “That would be… an unfortunate waste.”
I choked on the sip of beer I’d just taken and showered the front of my T-shirt. “Jesus, Drake.” I grabbed a serviette to clean up.
He grinned and walked our plates to the sink. I cleared the rest and followed. We worked side by side doing the dishes the old-fashioned way even though he had a dishwasher parked right in front of him. I wasn’t about to ask or complain, however. Who knew brushing arms fully clothed could be such a turn-on?
The man’s physical warmth drew me like a moth to a flame. Every time we came close, shivers ran along my skin, playing havoc with my self-control. I wanted to touch him so fucking badly I could taste the need, like the hint of your favourite food on the tip of your tongue, never enough. Almost done, I leaned back on the kitchen counter and watched him finish up, noting the way his trousers pulled tight against his arse every time he reached along the bench. Goddamn. The man had a world-class arse.
“That meal was outstanding, Drake, thank you.” Even to my ears my voice sounded thick and hoarse.
He turned with a glimmer in his eye, obviously fully aware I’d been checking him out. “Need a glass of water for that?”
I flipped him off. “Nope. Nothing a fucking firehose won’t fix.”
He licked his lips. “I might be able to help you with that.”
And just like that I was half-hard. His gaze flicked down and he grinned. Total bastard. Between dropping innuendos like that and then enforcing an arm’s-length distance between us for most of the first part of the evening, the man was sending enough mixed messages to set my head spinning, and I was just about done with it. I backed him into the bench and took the cloth from his hand, throwing it into the sink before caging him with my arms. He held my gaze steadily, not fighting my proximity but not relaxing into it either. Well, okay, then. Better than a slap in the face.
“You’re a wicked man, Drake Park.” I roamed his beautiful face, all those soft lines and smooth caramel skin. His chocolate eyes laser focussed on mine, their expression too damn hard to read. Had I pushed too far? Too late now. I pressed in just enough to let him feel my arousal, and his lips parted in a sigh. The fact he didn’t immediately jump out of the way also showed definite promise. I brushed his cheek with the back of my fingers, marvelling at its softness. Though his expression didn’t change, he leaned into the touch ever so slightly, and it was enough to boost my confidence.
I shifted on my feet, spreading my stance to even our height as I moved my hips across his. “See what you do to me with nothing more than a few words,” I said softly, lifting his jaw while rubbing my thumb across that pretty lower lip, which earned me a short hum of approval. What I wouldn’t do for a lot more of that.
Here goes. I leaned in and pressed my mouth gently to his, becoming instantly and ridiculously hard at my first taste of the man. His warm lips were dry and silky soft, and I wanted inside that moist heat more than anything. A slight tremble at the contact was his only response but otherwise he remained still, his eyes open and fixed on mine.
Had I blown it? I pulled back a fraction, lifting off just enough to let him know the ball was in his court but no farther, leaving his warm breath brushing my lips. And still he didn’t move, his eyes flickering over mine in unspoken conflict. With nothing more to go by, I chanced a second taste, this time running the tip of my tongue along the seam of his lips, and finally with a puff of a sigh, he opened for me, and I sank into his velvet mouth like I’d come home. And maybe I had.
He groaned softly and relaxed into the kiss, his hands sliding either side of my waist. Oh yeah, that was more like it. I cradled his face and angled his head so I could reach every corner of his mouth while keeping the kiss gentle and exploratory. A deeply satisfied rumbling growl filled the room, and it was with shock that I realised it belonged to me. Holy shit.
Kissing Drake was like opening the best present on Christmas day, the one you’d had your eye on under the tree for weeks, watching it, shaking it, wondering just what was inside. And when you finally ripped the paper off, you found something special, something you really wanted and never believed you’d get. And you were just so damn thankful.
His hands slid around my back and dipped under the hem of my T-shirt, those long slender fingers sending little electric shocks skittering across my skin wherever they landed. It was all the encouragement I needed. I ran one of my own around the back of his neck and the other around his waist and pulled him tight against me, pressing deep into the welcome warmth of his mouth with a long sigh. My tongue stroked over his, hungry and determined. He returned the favour, delving into my mouth, nipping and nibbling at my lips whilst his hands roamed my back, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine and farther south into my rapidly cramped jeans.
But I wasn’t the only one feeling it. There was no missing his arousal, hard against my own, and the slight grinding motion he’d set in place with his hips was driving me fucking insane. I wanted those damn clothes off and skin, lots and lots of skin. I wanted my lips on him in every way I could, and I wanted to sink into his heat until there was nothing separating us, and his body was squirming with need.
I wanted it all, but I wasn’t stupid. This was a big enough step for Drake as it was, and I wasn’t about to break my word about taking things slow. So, as much as my dick was yammering for attention, I tried to let Drake drive what was happening, let him decide.
He sensed my hesitation and pulled back with a questioning look.
In answer I kissed his nose. “No pressure. Whatever you want, babe, or nothing at all. Up to you.”
He stared at me for a minute, then dropped a hand to cup my groin and give it a squeeze, as if checking I was still interested. What the hell? I was so damn close, I nearly came on the spot.
With a satisfied smirk, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into the lounge before backing me sideways onto the couch. I landed with a solid hit, but before I had time to scoot up, he’d straddled himself atop my hips, his groin pressed down onto mine. I moaned and bucked up looking for any friction I could find. He grabbed my hands and shoved them over my head, anchoring them against the sofa’s arm and holding me in place. Then he leaned over me, our lips hovering less than a butterfly’s breath apart, and I froze in place, mesmerised by the open want in his gaze.
Everything went still as we continued to simply stare at each other. At some level I was aware of the delicious sensation where Drake’s body was pressed into mine, the throb of need impatient between us, but nothing had my attention more than the scorching heat being directed my way from the man’s eyes. He shifted his position, placing both legs between mine and lowered his hips before grinding up against me.
“Fuuuuuck.” My head fell back against the cushion as our erections rubbed roughly and the sensations began to build.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “I want to watch when you come.”
Hell yeah. And he brought
his lips to mine in a searing kiss, a thick fringe of lashes fluttering against my cheek. My heart picked up a beat as our mouths fused together, and he bore down harder against my groin, rolling his hips forward, edging me closer. A deep growl broke from his throat. He slid off the kiss and buried his face in my shoulder, both of us focussed on the delicious slide of our bodies against each other.
Warm breath caressed my neck, soft grunts the only sound between us now. My hands remained pinned above my head, leaving just my lower body to react. I raised my knees a little, cradling his legs and angling him slightly to where I needed him to be. He whimpered and finally, finally released my arms, sinking into the sensual rhythm we’d set in motion.
My hands flew to cup his sexy arse and pull him even tighter against me, and he moaned appreciatively, pushing up on his elbows and staring down at me with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he growled, lifting off a fraction.
I sank my fingers into his butt to hold him in place. “Bring it.” I lifted my head to snag his lips.
He returned the kiss for a long moment, then pulled back to watch my face as we rocked closer and closer. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that I was gonna have an uncomfortable ride home in these jeans, but who the fuck cared? The minute he came undone, with his breath held, a flash of pleasure in his eyes as they drilled into mine, it was enough to carry me over the edge into my own slice of heaven. My balls drew up and slammed me into orgasm barely seconds behind him, eliciting soft grunts of release as I buried my face in his neck. He shuddered in my arms and fell forward onto my chest as we held each other through the waves.
Seconds, hours, days later, who the fuck knew, he lifted his head and grinned down at me, his face a sheen of sweat that made me want to lick him from ear to ear.
“Goddamn, Caleb,” he huffed out. “I think you broke me.”
I snorted and reached up to claim his lips in a quick kiss. “Hey, don’t look at me. That was you in the driver’s seat, sunshine.”
He collapsed on my chest and we lay in silence as the sweat cooled our skin. Then too quickly he slid out of my arms and off the couch.
“Wait there,” he said and disappeared down the hall. Five minutes later he returned wearing a fresh pair of sweats and carrying a warm facecloth and a clean pair of briefs, both of which he handed to me.
“They’ll be a snug fit, judging by what I felt you packing down there.” He grinned. “But it beats the hell out of getting home concreted to your jocks, right?”
“Would be easier to use the bathroom.” I side-eyed him playfully.
“Pfft, where’s the fun in that,” he answered, reaching over to swat my butt.
“Ow.”
He smirked and took a seat, making no effort whatsoever to conceal his undivided attention as I stripped and cleaned up in front of him. As a cop, I worked hard on my fitness and spent a fair amount of time in the gym, so I tried to put on a bit of a show. And when I turned my back and bent over to pull on the briefs, giving him a front row seat to my arse, a strangled groan was closely followed by a tentative hand sweep over my hips and across my arse.
I turned and hauled him into my arms with nothing between us bar his soft sweats and my thin briefs. “Hey, hands off the merchandise unless you’re gonna let me return the favour.” I planted a kiss on his lips, which quickly grew heated.
His eyes sprang wide, his breath hitched, and for a titillating second, I thought he was gonna go for it, but then he broke the kiss and relaxed, curling his arms around my body, his head resting against my chest.
“I like to unwrap my presents slowly,” he murmured, running his fingers up and down the bare skin of my back. “Draw out the pleasure.”
The way he said it had my dick squirming for attention, but I suspected I’d had all I was gonna get of Drake tonight regardless of what his eyes seemed to want.
“Fucking tease.” I gently pushed him off and hauled on my jeans. He sent me a wicked smile and plopped back on the couch.
Feeling distinctly more sanitary, I sat sideways next to him, channelling my fingers through all those silky black locks. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I could almost hear the purr. It was a good look on him, the most relaxed I’d seen him since we’d met. Pride swelled in my chest at the thought that I’d fucking done that.
“I love that everyone calls you Drake,” I whispered into his ear. “It’s hella cute. I think the Duck thing was always gonna be dead in the water.”
He laughed and popped his eyes at me. “That was a really bad joke.”
I planted a kiss on the end of his nose. “No, it was really good. You’ve just got orgasm dissonance.”
“Orgasm what? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Orgasm dissonance. You know, when you’re so blissed out you can’t even think straight. Everything turns upside down. You lose your sense of humour. All your senses and nerves and shit go… squishy.”
“Oh really? Squishy? Riiight.”
“It’s a thing, you know. Just ask David Attenborough.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. And I’ll have you know, I never think straight.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Count yourself lucky.”
“I do,” I said seriously. I did.
He stared at me for a minute, then closed his eyes and nestled down in the couch. “The name Duck-Young is a nod to my great-great-grandfather. It means ‘integrity lasts.’ A good name but perhaps not the best for a gay nerd at high school, right?”
I winced. “Probably not.”
“So my friends called me Drake and the name stuck. The only person who calls me Duck-Young is my dad, if he’s mad at me. Though some of my friends call me Duck or—and I can’t believe I’m telling you this—Ducky, just to needle me.”
I choked on a laugh. “I’ll, um, bear that in mind. Do your brother and sister have Korean names too?”
“Nah. Just me, eldest son, I guess. Mina’s middle name is Bridget, my mother’s grandmother’s Irish name, and Jason is just… well, Jason. Youngest child. I think they ran out of steam by then.”
I scooted back and manoeuvred Drake so his back was resting against my chest. In that position I could wrap my arms around him and bury my face in the scent of his neck. His hair fell like silk threads around my face, and I inhaled deeply. “This okay?” I murmured.
He nodded. “More than.”
“How come you smell like Christmas cake?” He so did.
He laughed. “Clove oil. It’s part of an aromatherapy treatment I sometimes use. You like?”
“I like.” I lifted one of his hands in mine and studied those elegant fingers. “You have beautiful hands. They’re one of the first things I noticed about you.”
He snorted and closed his fingers around mine. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.”
I nudged him playfully. “Hey, don’t knock it. Hands are pretty important. Without them there’s a whole lot of stuff I couldn’t do to you that I’m aching to.” I pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, and he squirmed against me.
“Quit that,” he said, without too much conviction.
I did it again and then held his hand out. “They’re small hands, but your fingers are long and so damn perfect.”
“Midwife’s hands, according to my first teacher. She said I was born to do this work. Maybe I was.”
Huh. I really hadn’t focussed too much on Drake’s job before now, but the thought of where those hands went, and why, now became both fascinating and vaguely awkward.
“So, other than the gift of perfect fingers for the job, why midwifery?” I asked, dropping his hand and stroking the side of his cheek instead.
He shrugged. “I’d like to give you some amazing poignant explanation, but the truth is I’ve just always been fascinated by the whole pregnancy and birth thing. Strange for a man? Maybe, but I don’t think so. There are lots of male obstetricians and gynaecologists after all, and no one bats an eye at them.
Just not a lot of male midwives. And maybe because I’m openly gay, dealing with all those sexual bits and bobs just isn’t an issue for me. Not that all male midwives are gay, far from it.”
I dropped my head and nuzzled where his shoulder met his neck. He groaned and pushed back against me, angling his neck to give me better access.
“God, that feels good,” he said softly, clearly enjoying the sensation for a moment before continuing. “I guess I like the fact my clients are doing a healthy normal thing instead of being sick.” He reached a hand back over his head to hold mine in place as I kept nibbling and licking away. “I like that I get to share such an… ugh…”
He squirmed in his seat and my dick perked up in anticipation.
“… such an intensely personal journey with them,” he continued. “We become like family for a bit. And my heart still stops every time a fresh new life arrives in the world and gives its first cry. The incredible look on the parents’ faces, it’s just so… hopeful for humanity, if you know what I mean?” Drake’s voice hitched.
I lifted my head and grinned against his hair. “I do. You love it, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I guess I’m lucky that way. Lots of people hate their jobs.”
“Mmm.” I rested my chin over his shoulder. “You said you had some bullying at school. Did you always know you were gay?”
“Pretty much. It’s different for everyone, right? But I was always a bit fem, so everyone assumed I was even before I fully realised it myself. The bullying was just the usual name-calling and a bit of roughhousing. It sucked, but others got it worse.”
I pulled him against me and nuzzled his neck. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Yeah.” He relaxed back against me, his warmth seeping into my chest. The feeling of connection anchored something deep within that had been free-floating for too long. “Were your family good with it?”
