by L. A. Witt
We quickly dried off, then headed into the bedroom.
Before I could lie down, Adam stopped me, and when I faced him, he wrapped me up in another kiss. Fuck, yes, I loved this. Standing up, lying down, sitting on a couch or a piece of driftwood—I didn’t care as long as Adam’s arms were around me and his tongue was teasing mine. Had it really only been a few hours since our first kiss? Since the first time I’d felt his warm lips and soft beard? Because it felt like we’d been doing this since the beginning of time.
He broke the kiss again and met my eyes. His were gleaming with lust, the brown nearly lost to his dilated pupils. “Can I, um…” He sucked his lower lip into his mouth. I couldn’t tell if the pink in his cheeks was a blush or from the heat of the shower. “I…”
I caressed his cheek with the backs of my knuckles. “Hmm?”
Adam swallowed. “I really, really want to try going down on you.”
Oh fuck, my mind was suddenly full of images of Adam kneeling at my feet with those lips around my cock, and I was nodding before I’d even found my breath again. “I’m not gonna say no.”
He smiled self-consciously, sliding his hand down between us. “Just, um… I’ve never done this before, okay? I have no idea what I’m—”
I kissed him softly. “Don’t worry about it. Just don’t use your teeth and don’t deep-throat far enough to choke yourself. That’s pretty much all there is to it.”
“Oh. Seriously?”
I nodded. “And fair warning—it is really hard to get me off that way, so if I don’t come, it’s not you.”
“Good to know,” he whispered.
I stepped back, taking him with me, and sank onto the edge of the bed. Oh, this was a gorgeous view—a thick erection, washboard abs, broad chest, gorgeous face. I trailed my fingertips down his six-pack. “In case I haven’t mentioned it, you are fucking hot.”
Adam laughed, and this time the color in his cheeks was definitely a blush. He came down to kiss me, let it linger for a moment, and then went to his knees between my parted legs. He ran his palms up my inner thighs. Looking at me through his lashes, he slowly stroked my cock. “Is it weird to be really nervous about this?”
“God, no.” I smoothed his wet hair. “Everyone is their first time. Like I said, though—just don’t use your teeth or choke yourself, and you’ll be fine. And you’re an amazing kisser, so…”
He licked his lips, eyes still full of uncertainty and bright with lust. “Just keep your expectations low.”
“Noted.”
We exchanged grins, and then he sat up and moved in closer, and—
Oh.
Fuck.
He did the same thing I did when I’d blown him earlier—started with a long lick up the shaft and a swirl around the head with his tongue.
“Ungh. You’re…” I combed my fingers through his wet hair. “You’re off to a damn good start.”
Some tension eased in his neck and shoulders. Slowly, he started exploring. He’d lick experimentally, then with more confidence when he realized I liked it. He’d take me between his lips, but only so deep, apparently taking my advice to heart. Eventually he might start testing his gag reflex, even pushing it, but not yet, and that was fine by me. Deep-throating wasn’t nearly as good as having the head teased and licked and sucked. Adam must have picked up on that—before long, he was focusing most of his attention on the head. His hand slid up and down my spit-slicked shaft, but his lips and tongue stayed right where I loved them the most.
I didn’t want to accidentally force his head down, so I moved my hand to his arm instead of his hair. Leaning back on my other hand, I stared down at the gorgeous sight, watching Adam suck cock for the first time in his life. Watching him suck my cock. I didn’t give a damn if he got me off. In fact, I was suddenly kind of grateful I’d never been one of those guys who could easily come during a blowjob. Just meant I could enjoy Adam’s exploration.
“Oh God,” I breathed. “That feels really good, baby.”
He moaned and gave the head a slow lick all the way around. The next moan was mine as I let my head fall back. Every man I’d ever dated could take a lesson from Adam about slowly and sensually sucking dick. They’d always been focused on doing whatever it took to get me off. Always the destination, never the journey. Adam, though—fuck. He wasn’t out to show off or prove anything. It wasn’t a chore so we could be done and go to sleep. This was something new, and something he was clearly discovering he enjoyed, and far be it from me to suggest he stop any time soon.
And… hell, if he kept going like this, he might end up getting me off after all. My orgasm was steadily building, and with no pressure on his part to make me come—and none on my part to come—it was entirely possible I would come.
I kneaded his arm. “I’ll tell you before I do,” I panted, “but at the rate you’re going…” I trailed off into whispered curses.
The low, throaty sound that vibrated against my dick almost did me in. Like he was getting off on this as much as I was. Holy fuck.
Then I blinked my eyes into focus and realized he was only using one hand, but his other shoulder was moving. Because he was stroking himself too. Slowly—in perfect time with what he was doing to my cock—he stroked his own, and the sight of that and the realization that he was so into this he had to touch himself, was fucking breathtaking.
“Oh God,” I whispered. “Keep doing that. Exactly what… what you’re doing.” I closed my eyes and pushed out a breath. “Fuck, baby. You’re… if you don’t want me to come, you don’t have—oh Jesus!”
He doubled down. His hand moved faster and gripped tighter. His lips and tongue relentlessly teased the sensitive head. He was even stroking himself faster, and that more than anything turned me on so much I couldn’t speak. I whimpered helplessly and gripped his arm, and he kept right on going, kept right on driving me toward that peak, and even when I cried out “gonna come!” he didn’t stop—he came. With a moan that thrummed all the way up from my balls to my spine, and a violent shudder, he came.
And then I came. Hard. Thank God I wasn’t standing, or I’d have collapsed right there in front of him from the sheer force of my orgasm.
The first jet of cum apparently caught him off-guard, and he pulled his mouth off my dick just in time to get the second spurt right in the face. He swallowed, coughed, and let go of me as he sat back on his heels.
“S-sorry,” I murmured, still trembling.
“It’s okay.” He licked his lips, then wiped some of the cum off his cheek with his fingers. Grinning up at me, he said, “That was fucking hot.”
“Y-yeah. Yeah. It was. Holy shit.”
He rose, legs a bit shaky, and reached for the tissues beside the bed. He needed more than I did—he’d come all over his arm and stomach, and I’d gotten a fair amount on his face.
I just came all over Adam Jacobsen’s face?
I almost laughed like a drunken idiot. My inner fanboy occasionally piped up with some ridiculous starstruck thought, and yeah, it was pretty wild that I’d just been blown within an inch of my life by the movie star I’d been crushing on since forever.
The thought was fleeting, though. More and more, Adam really was just Adam, and tonight he was a man who’d shyly asked me to be his first, and I was more than willing to be his second, third, and so on. God knew what was going on between us—if this was just a fling that would fade as soon as he went back to LA, or if there was really something between us—but I was in no hurry to get to the part where it was just a memory. Adam was a real person, not a face on a screen, and he was here, and at some point, I would be able to wrap my head around that.
We moved on to the bed and lay in the middle of the mattress. Adam propped his head up on his elbow and gazed at me, his expression sweet and satisfied. “I thought you didn’t get off that way.”
“I usually don’t. I mean, I can—it just takes longer than it does with some guys.”
He gave a little half-shrug as a smug
grin formed on his lips. “Or it takes the right guy, right?”
“Pretty much.” I chuckled, sliding my hand up his chest. “And not that you need it, but if you want to practice your technique at all, just say the word. I’m happy to volunteer.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. That, and all the other things I want to try, right?”
“Well, within reason.” I arched an eyebrow. “If it involves red hot pincers or something, I might have to delegate it to someone else.”
Adam laughed, that gorgeous sound making my head spin. He slid a bit closer and draped his arm over me. “I don’t think any of that is on my list.”
“Good. In that case, I’m happy to help.”
He kissed me lightly, letting it go on for a second or two before he pulled back. “You did say you have condoms and lube, right?”
I nodded, gesturing toward the nightstand.
“Awesome.” His grin somehow balanced perfectly between innocent and wicked. “We might have to use those tomorrow.”
Oh, I hoped we did.
Chapter 17
Adam
I awoke to Brian shifting around beside me. Had he been that restless all night? And I’d slept right through it?
But then a distinctly canine sigh told me it wasn’t Brian at all. Lola was lying between us, her back against mine, and I was almost to the edge of the bed. And according to my phone, it was only 6:45, so to hell with being awake.
“Really?” I muttered as I turned over. “Do you really need that much space?”
She responded by rolling onto her back—and taking up even more of my side of the bed. I had to laugh. She was hogging an awful lot of mattress, but she was pretty cute like that with her paws in the air and her head squished between the pillows.
And just beyond her was Brian. He was facing the other way, sandy blond hair mussed as he snored quietly. The blanket covered him to the waist but left the rest of his bare torso exposed. Now I could finally see the tattoo on the back of his shoulder, which turned out to be a wolf pawprint. I could take or leave tattoos, but I liked his, and seeing it was an oddly… intimate thing? Like I could see something the rest of the world usually didn’t? I didn’t have any ink of my own, and if I had, it would’ve been all over the internet and gossip rags by now. Short of tattooing the inside of my ass crack or something, there was no hiding anything from the world.
Brian, though, still had a certain amount of privacy. He could get tattoos—three of them that I’d seen so far—and no one saw them unless he wanted them to. He might have friends, coworkers, or family members who had no idea about the pawprint on his back, the caduceus on his pec, and whatever it was he had on his lower leg.
I envied him for that, but it also made my heart sink. He had a private life. If someone recognized him on the street, it was more than likely someone he actually knew, not a stranger who would ask him probing questions or try to take his picture. How long would that last if he kept seeing me? And yeah, he said he could cope with it, but that was easy to say. Back before I’d had my big break, I’d waved off any concerns about the realities of fame because I wanted the life of an actor and everything that came with it. I’d insisted I was ready for it, but I hadn’t been. To some extent, I probably still wasn’t.
For me, it was the price of admission to have my career and everything that came with it. The Filmmaker Award, my bank balance, and having made some movies I was really proud of were all worth the bullshit whenever I tried to leave the house. Usually, anyway.
For Brian, there was no payoff except me. It was one thing for me to decide that the life I got to live was worth the constant media attention. It was another for him to get the same level of attention in exchange for me. For a guy who had no idea what he was doing, didn’t know how relationships worked, and sometimes had anxiety that exhausted everyone around me.
I sighed, wishing Lola wasn’t between us so I could cuddle up against his warm, gorgeous body. Looking at him over his giant dog would have to suffice for now.
And I didn’t see myself pushing him away over the possibility of him hating the media presence. I liked him too much and was too curious about what might happen between us. Deep down, though, I was pretty sure I should be ready for him to get tired of the cameras and push me away. Could I really blame him if he did? When he did?
Well, I thought as I gazed at him, guess I’ll enjoy this while it lasts.
~*~
I managed to doze off again, and when I woke up this time, the sun was brighter and my phone showed it was a much more reasonable 9:00. There was still a warm, solid presence against my back, but it wasn’t Lola this time.
Brian nuzzled the base of my neck. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
His arm was draped over me, so I found his fingers and gently clasped our hands together.
“How did you get the dog to move?” I slurred.
“Hmm?”
“She was between us. Pushed me damn near off the bed.”
Brian laughed sleepily and kissed behind my ear. “Sounds about right. She got up when I went to take a leak.” He twisted around a bit like he was looking over his shoulder. “So now she’s taken over my side.”
“Oh, I see. So you just came over here because the dog stole your spot.”
“Well, yeah.” He let his stubbled chin graze my shoulder just before his soft lips brushed my neck again. “It’s a good excuse, though, right?”
“Like you need an excuse.”
He laughed and held me closer to him. “I’ll have to remember that, then. Note to self—don’t need an excuse to cuddle up with Adam.”
“Nope. None at all.” In fact, please do. As often as possible.
He chuckled. “So, now that we’re awake, we’ve got a whole day ahead of us. You still want to do the Underground Tour?”
“Could be fun.” But do we have to leave this bed? Because I’m pretty sure that’s not just morning wood pushing against my ass. “What about you?”
“I’m game. Just need to take Lola for a walk first. Maybe we could take her with us and go grab breakfast, then we’ll go into Seattle?”
“Sounds perfect.” Except the part about getting out of bed. “We should probably get a shower first, though.”
“Mmm, yeah. And share one, right? So we don’t waste water?”
“Exactly.”
Chapter 18
Brian
Thanks to our shower turning into a couple of frantic handjobs against the wall, it was a solid hour before Adam and I were finally dressed and presentable. With that out of our systems for the moment, we took Lola with us to a café down the street that allowed dogs in their patio seating, and after we’d dropped her off at home, I drove us into Seattle.
“You know,” Adam said as the city came into view, “for some reason, I thought the Space Needle would be bigger than that.”
“Yeah, a lot of pictures make it look big compared to the skyscrapers.” I gestured toward it. “But that’s all there is.” I’d had the same impression when I’d first moved to Washington. The Space Needle had always seemed much bigger in pictures, but it really wasn’t. The only reason it was visible at all was that it was set apart from most of the taller buildings, which were clustered together.
“You ever go up in it?” Adam asked.
“A few times. After the last time, I probably won’t go up again.”
“Why’s that?”
“Partly because I went with my ex, but mostly because it was really windy that day.” I glanced at Adam, and realized he was watching me blankly. “The Space Needle is specifically designed to sway. Which, I mean, it’s a good thing—that’s what keeps it from breaking during an earthquake or a windstorm. But when you’re up in it and it’s swaying?” I shuddered, stomach lurching at the memory.
“Wow. I’m surprised they let people go up when it’s like that.”
“I don’t think they usually do. The wind didn’t pick up until we were already having dinne
r.” I shot the Needle a wary look. “We, uh, didn’t stick around for dessert.”
This time it was Adam who shuddered. “I don’t blame you. Good God. And holy shit, I can’t imagine being up there during an earthquake. Those are scary enough on the damn ground.”
“A-fucking-men.”
I continued down the I-5 to our exit and started the slow crawl through downtown Seattle. I hated driving down here—too many one-way streets and drivers who clearly needed to retake driver’s ed—but I tried not to let it show. The GPS took care of figuring out when and where to turn, at least. Navigating in this city without a GPS was a nightmare, so thank God for that impatient voice ordering me to turn.
When we were close to Pioneer Square, I turned off the GPS just before I pulled into the famous Sinking Ship parking garage. It was a weird, ugly triangular garage that sloped sharply—hence the name—and about the only place to park down here besides on the street. Fortunately there were some spaces available so I didn’t have to showcase my lack of parallel parking skills.
After I’d squeezed the car into a too-small space on the top deck, we paid for the spot and headed for Pioneer Square.
“So this”—I gestured around us—“is Pioneer Square. Basically one of the oldest parts of Seattle.”
Adam nodded as he took in our surroundings. The buildings here were seriously old by West Coast standards—a hundred years, give or take—and some still had their nineteenth century stone façades. In the middle of the square was the iconic black metal pergola that had been rebuilt a few years ago, and along the edges were some bars and restaurants—old and new—with outdoor seating.
One bar in particular was our destination—Doc Maynard’s Public House.
“The tour starts here,” I said. “You want to get a drink or anything before?”
Adam shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”
We went inside and bought tickets. It was still early enough in the day that the tours weren’t heavily booked, so we snagged the last two spots in the next group, which left in fifteen minutes. The girl selling tickets directed us into the large room beside the bar, and we joined about twenty people waiting for the same tour.
