by Jodi Payne
Can I kiss you? Would you kiss me? Are we going to get naked? I would like to get naked. With you. What happened earlier? Am I ever going to get it? Does it matter? Can I touch you? Love on you?
Okay. Right. Negotiations.
He found a George Strait song on his phone and walked over to Thomas, who was sitting on the sofa. “Wanna dance?”
“I would love to.” Thomas stood up, grinning. “I suppose you want to lead too?”
Negotiations.
“Shut up and dance.” He eased into Thomas’s arms, tucking himself against Thomas’s shoulder and sliding one hand in Thomas’s back pocket. Thomas could lead all he wanted; he was picking the songs.
“The dancing part I got. The shut up is more challenging.” Thomas hung both arms around his hips and sighed. He wouldn’t call that a lead. They kind of found the rhythm together. He hummed, happy as a cricket, a long-held fantasy come true. Dancing to King George. Damn.
“I used to watch the couples dancing, and it liked to kill me with wanting. Not the dancing, per se, but…the way they held on.” Like it was breathing.
Thomas’s hands shifted, one arm wrapping around his back and the other sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Better, cowboy?”
“Yes, sir.” His heart set to pounding, and he melted into Thomas’s arms.
“George Strait has what, a hundred love songs? At least?” Thomas held him tight, and he felt a heart beating as hard as his own.
“At least. And I got them all on my phone.”
“That might be enough. Maybe put it on shuffle in case we run long.” Thomas leaned away just enough to get the buttons open and shrug out of that black dress shirt.
“Oh…” He bit his bottom lip, the scent of Thomas flooding him. Leather and soap and man—he inhaled until he was dizzy, filling his lungs with Thomas.
Thomas took another second and untucked his shirts, working on the button-down first with steady fingers, then lifting his T-shirt off over his head. Then those arms were around him again, just like before only…even better.
Oh. He could die a happy man right here. Sam closed his eyes, singing along under his breath and floating about a foot above the floor.
They swayed together for maybe a couple more songs, two, maybe three, he wasn’t keeping track. Thomas’s hands had started to roam, into his hair, over his shoulder, down his chest. At the moment, Thomas’s thumb was making lazy circles around one of his nipples, and when he lifted his face, he was rewarded with a kiss.
“This is perfect. You feel so good.”
“Yes. I don’t have the words, but…there’s nowhere I’d rather be.” No one he’d rather be with. No one he would share this with, if he had all the choices in the world.
Thomas got hold of a belt loop and pulled him in tighter, tight enough he could feel the hard ridge under Thomas’s leather rubbing against his belly as they rocked together.
Oh, sweet Jesus. He leaned hard, needing to feel Thomas more than he needed his next breath.
“Sam.” Thomas said his name on the same breath as a low moan and rocked again, angling a thigh between his legs.
“Yes.” He spread a bit and went up on tiptoe at that delicious ache. He lifted his face, taking another kiss. The glide of his belly against Thomas’s drew a raw sound from him, one that got trapped between them.
Their tongues slid against each other, and the kiss got heavy and hungry. Thomas gripped Sam’s biceps and forced him back a step without breaking the kiss, hands diving for his belt buckle. He sucked in, giving Thomas room to work. His hands were filled with Thomas’s hips, the leather soft as butter.
Buckle, belt, button and fly, then Thomas’s hands slid into his jeans and around to his ass.
He started exploring. The line of Thomas’s throat fascinated him, the tendons, the hollow at the base of the neck. Thomas exhaled and tilted his head back, giving him more room to explore and stretching the skin tight. “Collarbone. Like it there.”
“Mmm…yes, sir. So fine.” He nibbled, licked, moaning and lingering whenever Thomas shivered. He dropped his hands to Thomas’s waistband. “Can I?”
Thomas’s sharp inhale almost sounded desperate. “Yes. I’m…yes.” Sam had to grin when Thomas looked down to watch his fingers.
He understood. He wanted to see, wanted to know—everything. He focused on the task at hand, unfastening, baring Thomas, making sure to touch—the fuzz at the base of Thomas’s belly, the long curve of Thomas’s cock—with every step.
“Fuck. Want to see you too.” Thomas moved his hands around, worked his jeans low on his hips, let his prick fall free, then gave it a light rub. “There you are, so pretty.”
“Can we get naked, honey? One of us—probably me—is going to go ass over teakettle.” He was shivering with anticipation. He supposed he ought to be nervous, but he wanted to know. Everything. Everything Thomas could show him and whatever they might could figure out together.
Thomas laughed. “I was just getting to that, impatient young man.” The leather pants were gone in a blink, tossed onto the couch, and Thomas dropped to one knee, tugged his jeans down, and rubbed a cheek against him. “Fuck, you smell good.”
He followed Thomas down, sliding along his body until they were pressed tight together, bare as the day they were born. Thomas made his eyes cross.
“Come to bed?” Thomas rocked back on his heels and stood, holding a hand out to Sam. “We can stretch out, get to know each other better.”
“There’s nothing I’d like more.” He took Thomas’s hand with a laugh, letting the man draw him in for another hard kiss that liked to burn him to the ground.
Thomas had a giant platform bed, more than enough room for the two of them to roll around and never find the edges. The bedding was black and tan, the pillows neat, and there were just enough of them to be functional, not decorative.
Thomas tugged the duvet down and crowded him against the edge. “Do you know what you’re doing to me? Do you know how bad I want you?”
“I’m yours.” The back of the bed hit his knees and he sat, coming face-to-face with Thomas’s erection. He leaned forward, feeling as daring as he ever had in his whole life, and kissed the tip.
Thomas hissed and caught the back of his head, smiling at him. “Have you ever?”
“No. Couple of hand jobs in the dark. I had to be careful not to get, well, handed my teeth.” Sam looked up along Thomas’s body. “Wasn’t for lack of interest, though.”
“I’m game.” Thomas winked at him. “If you want to.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He leaned down and inhaled deep, then dragged his cheek along the shaft. Fuck, Thomas’s skin was hot, so silky.
Thomas kept that hand on his head, but just light contact, affectionate. “I’m hoping it’s actually mine. Take your time. I’ll try to keep it together.” That was followed by a low laugh.
He’d try to make sure Thomas enjoyed it. He started at the head, exploring with the tip of his tongue, tracing the ridge, testing the spongy flesh. There was a tease, a hint of Thomas’s flavor, and he groaned, searching for more.
He felt Thomas’s eyes on him and the fingers tightening in his hair. Thomas’s prick stretched and hardened to steel in his fingers, making Thomas moan. “That’s…yes. Sam.”
Yeah. Pleasure built up in him, and he took Thomas in, his fingers wrapped around the base. He sucked, listening for his clues—harder or focus there or ease up.
Thomas made it easy. He didn’t know enough yet to know if the man was always that way, but Thomas told him what was good, would shift away or lean in, and he knew. He knew when he was getting it right.
Thomas was patient, let him push, let him experiment, and finally started losing control.
“Fuck, I’m…can I? Jesus…” Thomas groaned, and his head rolled on his shoulders.
Sam was sure it made him all kinds of a slut, but he wanted to know. Hell, he needed to know how Thomas tasted. He knew how Thomas had made the top of hi
s head pop off. He wanted to give that back, make Thomas feel like he could fly.
He answered by sucking harder, forcing himself to relax, to let Thomas in.
“Fuck!” Thomas gripped the back of his head and held it still as those hips rocked forward. Two thrusts and Thomas eased up and groaned as he came. Sam swallowed hard, trying his best not to choke, the bitter and the salt strong on his tongue.
He’d never not know this again.
He backed off and let Thomas pop free as he rested his forehead on Thomas’s belly, trying to remember how to breathe.
They stayed there a minute, both of them just breathing, but when Thomas dropped to his knees and kissed him, he knew the man was just as stunned as he was. “Fuck, Sam.” Thomas grinned at him, eyes bright; then he was being herded over onto the bed.
Every single place they touched burned, and Sam pushed into it, willing to catch fire. Thomas climbed over him, eyes locked on his, and pressed a hip down, giving him something to feel, something to move against. He groaned, caught as any fish on a hook. It was easy to arch, take the friction, the strength Thomas offered and ride it.
“Yeah. You’re feeling good, right, stud? You want that.” Thomas went after his shoulder with hungry teeth.
“Yessir.” Jesus, yes. He felt like he might bust, like he was fixin’ to just crack down the center; then Thomas bit or shifted or touched and it got bigger.
Thomas worked down to one nipple and stayed there, licking and biting and licking again, making him arch, making it hard to keep still. “Beautiful,” Thomas whispered and moved lower, hot lips landing on his abs.
He ached, his hands opening and closing. “Please,” he whispered. He didn’t know what he was asking for, but he knew Thomas could give it to him.
“Right here, Sam.” Thomas coaxed him to bend one knee, licked the inside of his thigh and pinched the skin between his teeth. But it was the fingers easing under his balls and across the smooth skin there that got his attention.
A sound slid from him, just as rough as a cob. Thomas’s touch was everywhere, and Sam spread wider to get more.
“This will feel chilly for a second. It’ll warm up quickly.” Thomas’s fingers touched him again, cool and slippery as they moved over him, circled over skin no one else had ever touched.
His abs drew up, sudden and hard, stealing his breath for a long second. He stared up at nothing and forced himself to inhale so he could be here. Right here. “My skin feels all tight.”
As if in answer, Thomas shifted to one hip and leaned over him, running a wet tongue up the length of his erection and around the head, which disappeared into a hungry mouth.
“Thomas!” Sam’s hips rolled, up and back, and the touch against his hole pressed harder. He stared down, needing to see, to know this was happening.
He watched as Thomas took his cock in farther, feeling that tongue working over his shaft, distracted until the pressure eased up and one slippery finger pushed inside him.
His eyes rolled, and he sat up halfway, curling up. Thomas used his free hand to ease him back, settling him on the sheets again, and released him just enough to talk.
“You’re all right?” Thomas’s words were low and soothing, the tone only a half question.
“More than all right.” His voice didn’t even sound like his own. He sounded husky, needy, almost raw.
“Yeah. It’ll be good. You’re on fire. One more.” He felt a stretch; then Thomas’s fingers were moving, adding pressure, twisting inside him.
Sam couldn’t have stayed still for love or money. His body demanded that he shift, take more. He was fucking flying.
Thomas groaned this time, a hot, needy sound. Those fingers worked him over and over, sinking inside him, twisting, stretching him, until he thought he might lose his mind. Until he wanted more. Needed more.
“Christ, Sam. I’m so ready for you. Tell me you want me. Tell me I can have you.”
“Please.” Sam caught Thomas’s gaze, held it. “I’m yours, huh?”
Thomas’s eyes flashed. “Mine.”
The sudden empty feeling as those fingers slipped away made him gasp, but Thomas kept his focus, tearing open a foil wrapper with savage teeth and rolling on the rubber.
Thomas climbed over him, pushing his legs open wider, and began to stroke him off. “My own.” Then that pressure was back, only…hotter. Heavier. Stretching him so, so slow.
“Yours. Yours, please.” Oh, sweet Christ, that was Thomas. Inside him. Spreading him open.
“Fuck. Fuck, Sam.” Thomas sank into him gently, so careful, and in the middle of gasps and moans, he saw a change in Thomas’s brown eyes. Behind the heat was something else. Something bigger, deeper, warming him in a different way.
He reached up and cupped Thomas’s jaw, and that shifted Thomas inside him. Lightning slid up his spine, and he bore down, a cry escaping him.
“Sam!” Thomas ducked his head as his hips shifted into a different gear. He started to move, pulling out slow and diving in harder, breathing in thick pants, rocking them.
Fucking him.
It took him a minute to figure the rhythm, to meet the thrusts and add his strength, his hunger. The burn was so deep, the ache so fucking right that he wanted to beller.
Thomas was a stunning mix of control and need. Part of him so deliberate and thoughtful and part just wild need. But those brown eyes were steady, the whole world reduced to that connection. Sam held on, stuck between Never let it end and Let me come and God yes, please.
“Want it, stud? You ready?” Thomas’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes.” Whatever Thomas was offering, he could take it.
“Me too.” Thomas chuckled softly and kissed him; then Thomas’s hips rolled just so and that lightning flew right up his spine again.
He bit out Thomas’s name, grabbing for Thomas’s shoulders and holding on tight. He needed more, needed that touch over and over. “Help me. Please. Please, I need…”
Thomas nodded. “Yes, Sam. Got you.” Thomas’s muscles worked under his fingers. The man’s jaw was set tight, and rough grunts filled his ears. “Fuck, yes!”
The world went white-hot, and when Thomas’s thumb pressed against the slit of his cock, he shot so hard his fucking bones rattled.
“Jesus!” Thomas pressed their foreheads together and blew hot air across his face, hips madly flying for a second, then sinking deep. “Sam.” Thomas’s voice was tight and barely above a whisper as he trembled, and Sam felt him jerk and pulse inside him.
Sam blinked, trying to focus, but he couldn’t. He was fucking melted. All the way. Damn, it felt good.
Thomas must have been pretty bleary-eyed too, because the man was dropping kisses on his forehead, eyes, cheekbones, pretty much anywhere but his lips. He snorted and turned his head and Thomas finally made contact, laughing against his lips. “There you are.”
“Right here.” He stroked Thomas’s cheek, his shoulder, his side. “Damn.”
“Yeah. Fuck, that was…you are incredible. Beautiful. Fuck, so hot.” Thomas’s skin was slick, and he was still catching his breath. He rolled and landed on his side next to Sam. “Damn.”
Sam wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next, but Thomas would let him know. Right now, he’d breathe, let the world be a soft place for a second.
“Did we run out of King George?” Thomas grinned and kissed his shoulder. “I was going for it.”
“I bet my phone’s still playing in the front room.”
“Let it play. I’ll get it later.” Thomas reached for him. “Can I hold you? Come here.”
He moved in without a second of hesitation, pressing into Thomas’s arms with a happy little sigh.
Thomas tucked him close and kissed his head. “You’re okay? That was…I mean, you’re going to be sore tomorrow, but you’re okay?”
Sam began to chuckle, because damn, he was happy. “I got to admit, I been sore after a lot of rides, but this one was damn fine and more than worth it.”
“Is that bad?” Surprises kept a person young, right? Kept you on your toes?
“No. Not at all. I tend to live in a neat and orderly world, and you are neither. I sort of love it. It’s reminding me…I don’t know. That I’m still young, I guess.”
“You are. Young and about the hottest man I ever saw.”
Thomas snorted. “You’re sweet. You sure make me feel that way, anyway.”
“I’m not sweet. You said honest. I’m telling you the truth.” Thomas made him ache.
“I did.” Thomas lifted his face, looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He’d remember that, that Thomas didn’t know how fine he was. Sam could tell him, anytime.
He got one of those kisses, the slow, gentle ones. The ones that made him feel like Thomas was taking care of him. Then Thomas settled into the pillows. “I wonder how many guys can say they got their lover off twice on their first try?”
Sam’s cheeks burned, but he wouldn’t forget. He’d done that—made Thomas come. He intended to goddamn do it again too. Over and over. It was good to have a plan.
22
The ride to Midtown from the Met was very straightforward. Get in the cab, head straight downtown. It was probably the easiest thing he was going to do all night.
Thomas went to work this morning in a fantastic mood. He’d left Sam sleeping in his bed along with a note and King George playing on the kitchen counter.
Before Clint called him around morning coffee-break time, he’d been debriefing himself on his night with Sam and hadn’t gotten a damn thing done except to think about how perfect it had all been. From Sam’s lovely first move with the dancing, to a gem of a first-timer blowjob, to Sam telling him he was hot. So, when the call came in, that’s what he told Clint, with a big fat smile on his face.
But Clint hadn’t called about that. Clint asked him how his afternoon had gone at the club. He started to put up a little smoke screen and talked about how Sam had knelt for him, but being evasive with Clint had proved to be a bad call more often than he cared to admit, and he had to confess that it hadn’t been one of his better moments. That their afternoon had ended with Sam essentially calling him out for being human. He’d gotten the rodeo cowboy version of “better luck next time.”
