Getting it up

Excerpt: Sirus threw open the door and a blast of wind and rain soaked his front before he took one step outside. He forged into the frigid display of nature, letting the cold wash over him and cool his insides. Sirus made it halfway down the steps, almost to freedom, when a ruthless grip locked on his arm and jerked him into the step railing.

Sirus looked up into the rage of Grey’s face.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Grey looked like he shouted, but it barely registered as such above the noise of the pounding rain. “It’s goddamned pouring.”

Looking up into the darkened night, Sirus welcomed the torrent of rain beating down on his face. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt alive, and he forced himself to believe it was because of the harsh elements and not this man’s bruising hold.

“Come on!” Grey shook Sirus again and tried to tug him up the stairs. “Get inside!”

Sirus pulled back, digging his feet into the wood. “No, it’s just rain. It won’t hurt me.” He could not, could not, go back in that cabin with Grey.

“You’ll get sick as a dog.” Rain plastered Grey’s hair to his head in a skullcap and poured down his face. “Of course it can hurt you.” His lips pulled with hard lines, and all Sirus could think about was kissing Grey breathless and shoving his tongue into the warmth of his mouth.

Stifling a groan, Sirus pushed past Grey and down the steps. He called over his shoulder, not daring to look back, “If I get sick, I’ll deal with it.” His feet squished in the mud the dirt path had become. The cold no barrier, a painful erection raged in his jeans.

“You go inside. I want to be out here.”

Grey shouted a curse and slammed into Sirus from behind, locking his arms around Sirus’s arms and chest. “You’re not running around in the rain and the dark! Fucking stop, damn it!” Grey’s muscles contorted wildly against Sirus’s back and arms as he struggled to take Sirus to the ground, surprising Sirus with his strength. Sirus had the extra height and the bulk, though, and he ripped Grey off his body, whirling on him, his emotions playing too close to the surface to fully conceal.

Sirus laid his eyes on the hard set of Grey’s face, and on the way his body heaved with labored breathing. His soaked shirt clung to his chest, exposing hard pecs and tight nipples, pointing with cold. Sirus looked up and their gazes clashed, the heat so intense Sirus jerked with it. A rough noise escaped Grey right then, and that’s when Sirus glanced down. A thick bulge thrust hard against Grey’s pants, giving him away. Grey stared right back at Sirus’s cock, and figured him out too.

“I don’t want this,” Sirus uttered, his voice stripped bare.

“Me either.” Grey sounded as if he were in agony.

Swearing, they flew at each other in a furious kiss.

Later in scene...

Sirus’s ass burned with the invasion, but it immediately clamped down on Grey’s fingers and dragged them deeper into his channel. “Mmm, yeah.” He braced his hands on Grey’s chest and pushed down, forcing more of the other man’s long fingers inside his body. “Fuck me, fuck me.” Clenching his teeth against the pure, unadulterated delight his rectum and Grey’s embedded fingers created together, Sirus rolled his hips into each spearing his passage took and reached for more. His prick grew to full arousal once again and his balls tingled and drew tight against his body, already to the breaking point again.

“Take it, Wilder, take it.” Grey’s voice was harsh and forceful as he plunged and scissored his fingers with great enthusiasm in Sirus’s quivering channel, stretching him with almost savage aggression. “Feel every goddamn inch of me playing in your ass.”

“Uh-huh … fuck.” Sirus pulled his lower lip between this teeth and bit, drawing blood as he tried to stave off release. He couldn’t control the panting and writhing, though, and his knees slipped wider apart in the mud, pushing his ass down even harder and trapping Grey’s hand against his stomach. Sirus didn’t care and couldn’t stop gyrating his ass into Grey’s fingers. His thighs shook and his arms felt weaker than a kitten, and just when Sirus didn’t think he could take even one more sensation, Grey crooked his buried fingers and stroked right on Sirus’s sweet spot, tipping him right over the edge.

Crying out as the second release hit him, stronger and sharper than the first, Sirus sank his fingers at least half an inch into Grey’s chest muscles, searching for a toehold with which to cling. His entire body convulsed, his ass closed in a vise on Grey’s fingers, and he swore he felt cum race through his bowel and belly before finally letting it go and shooting a stream of hot semen on Grey’s forearm and chest.

Grey locked his gaze on Sirus’s, and it was frightening in its depth. The man looked pained, and Sirus scrambled backward, letting Grey’s fingers slip free of his anus as he positioned his ass over the other man’s crotch. Grey’s jeans acted as little to no barrier, and Sirus ground his buttocks into the bulge, his crease splitting and his asshole finding the ridge and rocking in a frenzy over Grey’s cock. “I’m still open … ah, yeah…” Sirus groaned and bucked as Grey knifed up into his loosened hole. “Fuck me and let me feel you come.”

Grey growled and latched onto Sirus’s waist, holding him down as he thrust up repeatedly, taking with aggression, as if there were no clothing between them at all. Sirus rode the shape of Grey’s cock with piston-fast sweeps along his crack, knowing he had never done anything like this in his life. He felt like a teenager in the backseat of a car doing something fast and without finesse because it was forbidden and he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ohh … ohh…” Grey strained under Sirus and then quickly stiffened, his body arching in a bow. “Coming…” His mouth fell open, his eyes squeezed shut, and his fingers bruised a punishing hold on Sirus’s waist. “Damn it, damn it…” Grey’s entire body shuddered, and the heat of ejaculate warmed Sirus’s ass through underwear and jeans as Grey succumbed to release.

Eventually, the tension eased from Grey’s body and he lowered back to the ground. He opened his eyes, and the rain broke right then, turning from a downpour to a light mist, as if Mother Nature took its cue from the severity of Sirus and Grey’s coupling. Sirus couldn’t move as he absorbed what had happened, the heat of the moment so intense he couldn’t walk away, even as he accepted he’d just done something incredibly intimate with a man he didn’t know very well at all.

Excerpt: Susan should have been here. She would know how to comfort Scott, she would know how to give him whatever he needed. She had to know. That’s what fiancées, and wives, did. Right? But Susan was in Napa.

“If you weren’t being an actor right now, what would you do?”

“What would I do?”

“Yeah. Remember, what happens in this room stays in here. What would you do?”

“If I weren’t acting…if I were just me…I would do this.”

Andy didn’t have a chance to respond before Scott curled his fingers in Andy’s shirt and pulled him forward. Their mouths met, and the rich smell of whiskey hung around Scott’s head in a cloud. He was so stunned by the contact, he couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t push Scott away. He couldn’t do anything except let Scott tease his mouth.

There were many reasons why Scott shouldn’t kiss him. At the top of the list was the fact that Scott was engaged to Andy’s sister. Only slightly below that was the fact that Scott wasn’t gay. And to round out the top three, Andy didn’t kiss, touch, grope, or have sex with very drunk men. Generally, it never ended well for him. There were even more reasons why Scott shouldn’t kiss Andy. And yet, there they were, in a kiss that seemed to be deepening instead of ending.

Scott was a good kisser. He must have had a lot of practice. Before he became involved with Susan, he was always in the tabloid papers with a different girl hanging off his arm. And being Hollywood’s leading man meant that he got more than his share of kisses on the silver screen. Except that was just pretending. And there was nothing fake about the way Scott explored his mouth. There was nothing fake about the way Andy reacted. As he warmed to the caress, he became desperate for more, hungry to taste Scott’s mouth. Andy’s tongue tingled a little from the alcohol still lingering on Scott’s lips and inside his cheeks.

“Scott…”

“You won’t tell anybody, will you?”

“No…no…I won’t tell anybody.”

“I’ve wanted to do that before.”

“Did you?”

“But I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Andy’s head was floating above his shoulders. He couldn’t even feel his feet anymore. “You just did.”

“I didn’t make you uncomfortable…did I? Look, if you want me to catch a cab, I will. I should go home.”

“You don’t have to.” Andy didn’t know where the words came from. Scott absolutely had to. Scott should go home, and pack his bags, and catch a flight up to San Francisco, and he could be with Susan again by the morning. But…a man who could kiss another man the way Scott just kissed him might not be interested in flying several hundred miles to climb into
bed with a woman.

Excerpt: They were taking off their coats and kissing as soon as Dune unlocked and opened the door. Micah watched his fingers move over Dune's golden skin, watched Dune watch himself be touched. He raised his eyes to Micah's with a sly smile, and then kissed Micahwith a fierce sort of passion that took Micah's breath away. He scooped Micah up into his arms and Micah's legs went around his waist, and he carried Micah through the loft to the kitchen. Dune put Micah down on a counter and kissed down his chest and stomach as Micah eased flat onto his back.

Dune undid Micah's jeans and laughed at the sight of his bright purple boxer shorts. "Is it laundry day?"

"I like them -- they're cheerful." He kicked off his shoes and wiggled out of his jeans.

"I see your point." Dune stepped back and dropped his own trousers -- he was naked beneath them, and grinned at Micah. "So there we are."

"Yep," Micah whispered, and licked his lips. He shoved off his boxer shorts and pulled Dune back to him. Micah wanted to laugh with pleasure as they kissed -- he was with Dune -- naked with Dune! -- and Dune was kissing him and touching him and he tasted delicious and his skin was so warm. Micah ran both hands up and down Dune's arms, over his shoulders and chest, down his back.

"Don't move," Dune whispered to him, and left the kitchen. Dune returned with a handful of condoms and a bottle of lubricant, and gave Micah an innocent smile when Micah raised his eyebrows.

"You're very optimistic."

"We're young and horny." Dune kissed Micah again and dabbled down Micah's body with his tongue to Micah's thighs. He slid his lips along Micah's cock until Micah gasped, and then took Micah's cock slowly into his mouth.

Micah arched his body, groaning. The sight of Dune's mouth around his cock was almost too much to bear -- he thought he might come just from the sight of it, if not from the feel of Dune moaning around his cock and those hands gripping his thighs. He watched for as long as he could keep his eyes open, panting harder and harder, until finally his head fell
back and the world went white.

Dune moaned and dug his fingers into Micah's skin until Micah's shivering stopped. He licked up the length of Micah's cock as he lifted his head and then smiled slowly, licked his lips. He leaned up to kiss Micah, and Micah held his face and kissed him back as Micah slid off the counter. Dune turned him around to face the counter and bent him over it, kissed down his spine, and tore open one of the condom wrappers. Micah gasped again as Dune lubricated him, and he arched up and groaned a soft, "Oh, yes," as Dune pressed into him, at the sweet burn of it.
Dune moaned behind him, kissed Micah's back and hummed into his ear, "Feels so good, baby."

Micah could only grunt in response, gripping the edges of the counter to keep his balance as he arched and thrust his hips. His skin was slick with perspiration, and Dune's hands slid over his hips, his chest slid against Micah's back. Dune kissed Micah's neck and moaned his name.

Micah let his head fall to the counter, rocking his hips to Dune's rhythm and trying to keep his legs from collapsing. Dune's body slammed into his, and Micah glanced over his shoulder to look at him -- Dune’s head was thrown back, his teeth were bared, his neck was arched -- he looked so good Micah shuddered and let his head fall onto the counter again, overwhelmed.

Dune cried out more loudly as his fingers dug into Micah's hips. "Micah," he said, "Micah -- oh, you beautiful thing --" and his body slammed hard into Micah's and slowed to a stop. He fell onto Micah's back, breathing heavily, his hands flat on the counter top.

Micah moved his hand over to Dune's and twined their fingers together. After a moment Dune's hand turned up to grip his. Dune kissed the back of Micah's neck and pulled out of him carefully. "Are you okay?" He kissed Micah's shoulder blade.

Micah straightened himself up cautiously, legs rubbery and a red streak across his stomach where he'd been pressed against the counter. "I'm okay." He turned and stretched, watching Dune tie off the condom and drop it into the garbage pail. He pushed his glasses up his nose and said, "And you? Still feeling optimistic?"

Dune gave him a mysterious smile. "The night is young, my friend." He kissed Micah slowly, and Micah grabbed his waist and pulled him close, blatantly rubbing their cocks together. Dune broke off the kiss with a gasp and a muttered, "Christ, Micah."

Excerpt: "High school. A few times before Tris and I got married. And then not again until after the annulment--and I've never looked back." Jamie nodded against his chest, fingers entwined
between Ben's. Ben stroked his hair. "How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"Just a baby," Ben teased.

"Old enough. A little bundle of hormones, that was me at fifteen. Every time somebody I found attractive touched me I thought I'd combust."

"Everybody's like that as a teenager."

"True. Me and my best friend--Rupert, that was his name--"

"Rupert?" He quietly laughed. "English people."

"Rupert. It's a perfectly good name. Anyway, we'd sneak off to snog behind the equipment shed between classes, or go to my flat to fool around because my parents were always gone. He was the first bloke to kiss me," he added, his expression nostalgic. "The first bloke to do a lot of things to me."

"What happened?"

"His mum caught us. We weren't actually fucking but we were in bed together and just in our underpants. She came back early from some school thing for one of his sisters and threw open the door and just started screaming that I was a pervert and to get out of her house and never talk
to her son again, and when I got home she'd called my parents to tell them."

Ben stroked his back, his expression somber.

After a few minutes Jamie said, "I haven't seen him since. I tried to call a few times but he never answered the phone and his family never let me talk to him. So I don't know what's happened to him. I’d like to think he's fabulously happy somewhere that's not Manchester."

"Not easy to be gay there, huh?"

"Nope. Not for kids our age, anyway. I mean, it's pretty urban and all but you have to know how to look after yourself, too. And in my school if there was even a whiff of difference about you people would set on you like hounds on a rabbit. And since I was artsy and small--" He sighed.

"You got set on."

"Yeah. And my father would tell me to fight back and I tried, and that just made it worse. If I'd been into sport instead of drawing, or even just taller... I was so fucking glad to get out of there."

"Nothing fucks you up like childhood." He hugged Jamie closer to him. Jamie made a soft sound. "Thanks." He kissed Ben briefly and lay his head down again.

Ben played with his hair. Ran his fingers down Jamie's jaw and along his chin, along his throat.

He pulled his hand away abruptly and crooked his arm under his head. "Sorry. I keep wanting to- -yeah."

Jamie opened his eyes when Ben moved his hand away, and raised his head again at Ben's words. "Keep wanting to touch me."

"Yeah. And as you keep reminding me, you're in a relationship. In love and all that."

"Yeah," Jamie whispered.

"And I like you."

He smiled and tapped his fingers on Ben's chest a moment. "You've mentioned that."

"And I don't fuck my friends."

It took Jamie a moment to realize what he meant, and then he said, "Oh," as he moved away from Ben's side.

"Hey." Ben sat up too. "Hey--Jamie--this is a good thing, right? We can be friends and the sex thing just gets--you know--put away. We don't have to think about it anymore. You know? We're just friends."

"Is that really what you want?"

Ben looked at him like he was an idiot. "No. But I am trying to respect the fact that you love that guy."

"Micah."

"Yeah, him."

"I do love him--but that hasn't stopped me from wanting you."

"Well," Ben said slowly, "then we ought to set some rules, I think. For example, my rule is I don't fuck my friends."

"So you'd rather sleep with some bloke you don't know than somebody you actually like."

"It's just sex, Jamie. It's not supposed to be meaningful."

"Oh," Jamie said again. "But you were married."

"Unhappily," he reminded him. "You can love somebody and have terrible sex with them. Or no sex at all. Who needs all that emotional garbage? I don't. I don't want it."

"I see."

"I mean, you've done it too, right? Cruising, one night stands, fucking a guy in a back room?"

"Of course I have--just not exclusively and not recently. I like being in a relationship."

Ben smoothed a wrinkle in the bedding and said nothing.

"They're not all like this," Jamie said. "Some of them--well, I'm sure there's people who have good relationships. And this will get better. Once Micah moves out of his parents' place and--well. We'll figure it out."

"Right," said Ben and gave an encouraging nod.

"So you've never been in love," Jamie said after a moment.

"Aside from Tris, no."

"That's too bad," Jamie said. Ben raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Jamie went on, "I mean, it seems to me like you've got a lot to give. You know?"

"Eight and a half inches," Ben said and smiled winningly.

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Well, define 'a lot,' then, Jamie. I have good sex, I'm not going to be coy about that. I like sex, I enjoy it, I'm good at it. Love is just--" He shook his head and looked away. "Love is a complication I don't want to bother with."

"Why? You don't think gay men can fall in love?"

Ben took a deep breath. "I am not self-loathing."

"Then what is it?" "Because I don't want--" His hand swept out in an all-encompassing gesture. "This. Waiting for somebody who's not going to show up, wondering where they are, what they're doing, why they're not with you, what's more important to them. I don't believe in putting my happiness in the hands of other people."

Jamie looked at his hands. "I see."

Ben leaned over and picked up his shoes. "I'll go."

"Only if you want to," Jamie said, meeting his eyes, and Ben dropped his shoes and wrapped himself around Jamie again.

"I don't. I don't want to go."

Excerpt: Zane turned on one bedroom light, just one, the lamp on Eli's bedside table. With its dark shade, it produced only a soft, buttery glow that warmed the room. Eli knew this room like the back of his hand. A place to sleep, and ever since he'd lived here, pretty much nothing more than that.

Not so now.

All of Zane's attention was fixed on Eli, drinking him in slowly with long sweeps from head to toe. A curious fascination and concentration made Eli feel—he wasn't sure how to describe it.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Zane finally said, the suddenness of his voice making Eli jump. He fingered the buttons on Eli's shirt. “May I?”

What? Oh. Eli backed up until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he could sit, needing the support. Zane followed him and went down on one knee in the spread vee of Eli's legs.

Zane drew Eli's shirttails out of his belt and began to work his way up the buttons, pausing between each to feather touches over the bare skin beneath. “Eli? Let me take the wheel.”

When Eli began to demur, male pride protesting being treated—well, like a woman—Zane shook his head almost firmly, almost vulnerable. “Please. I need this.”

Eli never could say no to Zane. He didn't start now. He swallowed down the last of his trepidations, or tried to, and deliberately ignored the rest until they melted into anticipation that brought butterflies instead of knots to his stomach. He nodded, not trusting his voice, but it
was enough.

“Thank you.” Zane pressed a kiss to Eli's chest and stood to push Eli's shirt off his shoulders. Eli shook his arms to let the shirt slide down and off.

A thought occurred to him. Zane could take the reins, but that didn't mean much if the horse didn't want to run. He slid his arm around Zane's waist and tugged lightly. “Down here?”

“Thought you'd never ask.”

They were of a size, he and Zane, Zane perhaps a little smaller and less broad in the shoulders, but he had strength where it counted and he was able to push Eli down on his back in the bed. The comforter smelled familiar to Eli. Soothing. Adding Zane's scent to the mix made it exciting. Cinnamon to coffee, spicier, warmer, slightly exotic but comforting at the same time.

Zane lay half on, half off Eli, one leg thrown over him and the rest of his body weight propped on his elbow. “Come here,” he said, drawing Eli to him.

Eli knew how to kiss Zane now, but it was no less exciting for being familiar. Maybe even more so. Couches and floors, those were great. Beds made everything somehow more real. He found the place he liked best to hold Zane, the flat of his hip and the tight curve of his ass, and kneaded him through the slow, deep kiss.

That wasn't all he did. Somewhere in the middle, when Zane's breath grew tight and Eli could tell he wanted to shift forward, Eli let go of Zane's hip and teased his way around front.

He was getting used to finding and feeling the rigidness of a cock instead of the warm softness between a woman's legs. Maybe even liking it better.

No. No maybe about it. Curious to see if it would have the same effect on Zane as it had on him, Eli palmed Zane's dick and pressed in, giving him something to push against.

“Oh” tasted sweet from Zane's lips to his, as did his tiny, broken whimper. “Don't stop.”

“Not planning on it.” Eli found the tab of Zane's zipper and drew it down. He drew the edge of his thumb up and down the side of Zane's dick. Curiosity overcame the last of the shyness.

“Let me see you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Zane abruptly pulled away and braced himself on his arms over Eli.

“Christ. What?” Eli tried to rise to his elbows. “You okay?”

Zane laughed, choppy and a little too excited. Ah. That told Eli all he needed to know. He lowered himself to the bed again, then on second thought inchwormed his way up higher until his head rested on the pillows. “Whatever you want,” he said and meant it, though making the
offer turned him light-headed. “You've got the wheel, remember?”

“As if I could forget.” Zane surged over Eli and pressed his mouth to Eli's neck, kissing him hard. The first press of bare chest to bare chest made them both hiss, and the slick heat of tongue and teeth sent bolts of want to Eli's hardened dick. “Something I've been thinking about.”

“You never stop thinking,” Eli said, almost out of breath already, and wasn't that odd? Or not. “Tell me.”

“I'd rather show you.” Zane's hand drifted down to undo Eli's slacks and clumsily tried to nudge them off. Eli lent the man a hand, though the room temperature felt shockingly cold and brought goose bumps to his skin. He thought he knew where Zane was heading here.

And God, did he want it. “Really?” he asked, just to be sure.

Zane's eyes were fever bright. “One hundred percent,” he said. He kissed Eli, one rough press to his lips that almost stung, almost too hard and rough and lingering. “Say yes?”

“Fuck, yes,” Eli said, voice gone baritone with need, already strung out. He watched Zane crawl backward on the bed, not between his legs but to the side, tugging his slacks farther down.

Zane stopped then, staring. Eli wanted to squirm. Women didn't do this, stare as if they couldn't believe their eyes. He had nothing to be ashamed of in the size department. That didn't worry him.

“Fuck,” Zane breathed. He braced himself on the bed, and on Eli, and lowered his head.

The fringes of his hair tickled Eli's stomach and hid what he was doing from view, but there was no mistaking the first tickling touch of a tongue to his cockhead, or the sudden, engulfing, wet warmth of an eager mouth.

Eli jackknifed up. “Oh, fuck!”

Excerpt: DAVID moved around the house, setting out snacks, brewing a pot of coffee and filling the ice bucket. Trace had dashed through the door minutes ago, just barely ahead of the other guys. He was in the bedroom changing now. Keeping busy to resist the urge to join him and catch a glimpse of the body that had been on his mind all day, David opened a bag of nuts, grateful that Trace seemed to have picked things in packages he could open.

Trace’s voice came from the back of the house. “David? Have you seen my red shirt? It’s not in the closet, and I’m sure I left it here.”

“Yeah,” David shouted back, moving toward the laundry room. “I threw it in the wash. Just a sec. I’ll get it.” Snatching the hanger off the rod where he’d hung it out of the dryer, David walked into the bedroom.

“Here you go.”

Trace was standing with his back to the door, pulling up very formfitting jeans over clinging boxer briefs. “Thanks,” he said distractedly as he settled the jeans on his hips, leaving them unfastened so he could tuck the shirt in. He turned around to reach for it. David gulped as Trace turned around, his eyes lingering on the muscular chest and the enticing line of dark hair traveling down from Trace’s belly button to disappear beneath his boxer briefs. Forcing his eyes back up, he watched with fascination as Trace’s nipples hardened
under his gaze.

Trace blinked as his body responded to that focused gaze. Wow. He could feel the tension zipping between them—something that had never happened before.

Whatever this was that was happening between them definitely wasn’t one-sided and that knowledge spread warmth through David’s body. Taking the shirt off the hanger, he stepped forward, intending to drape it around Trace’s shoulders just as the doorbell rang. Catching Trace’s eyes with a regretful look, he shrugged, turning away to answer the door.

Trace went still as he saw David looking over him frankly, and a zing rippled through him. He blinked and tilted his head. So last night wasn’t a fluke caused by scotch. He shifted his weight to move forward when he heard the bell, and the regret on David’s face was clear. Trace wondered what David would have done. “David,” Trace said. He took two steps to stop at his side and lifted the shirt from his hand before he could
leave the room. “Thanks.” It was meant for more than just bringing the shirt.

David’s heart, racing from his intimate examination of Trace’s chest, stopped as Trace spoke his name. One side of his mouth curled up in a smile. Just ask, he thought. Ask me to stay, and I’ll ignore the door and the people on the other side forever. “I’d better get the door.”

Reassured by David’s appraisal and the husk in his voice, Trace smiled slowly. He’d have never thought that discovering a man was aroused by him would feel so good. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Excerpt:Slowly, Mark drained the rest of his Guinness and set aside his empty glass. Reaching forward, he closed his cool, damp fingers over Weston’s where they curled into his pint, holding him for what felt like seconds soaked in molasses before prying his hand away from the glass.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate how gorgeous you are,” Mark said, placing Weston’s Guinness out of the way with his own. His hands were mercifully gone then, leaving Wes to stare at him, dumbfounded. “Is it such a bad thing? I mean, everybody fantasizes. Wondered. Even you do, remember?”

“Yeah. But…” They shouldn’t even be having this conversation. His tongue was thick, his mind slow, and he knew that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He should be sending Mark on his way. Letting the conversation continue was so bad. It was very, very bad. Was Mark closer now, or was that just his imagination? Weston opened his mouth and you should leave became, “What do you wonder about?”

A warm weight settled on his thigh. Wes glanced down, and the same long fingers that had just held his were stroking his leg.

“All sorts of things.” Mark’s voice was huskier than normal, low enough to reverberate through skin and sink straight into muscle. “I wonder…if your cock still does that little bend to the right when you get hard. Didn’t know I noticed that, did you? And I wonder…what it would feel like to have all of you covering all of me so that I can’t move and I can barely breathe except to breathe in you. Sometimes, I just wonder what it would be like to finally kiss you.”

A cacophony of alarms and warnings sounded in Weston’s head. But he seemed powerless to do anything about it. He had thought of Mark in that way many times, before and after entering the priesthood. And he didn’t want Mark to stop touching him. It felt so good, and unlike anything he had ever experienced. Nobody had ever touched him with such deliberation.

“I’ve…wondered what it would be like if you did kiss me.” It might not have been wise to admit as much, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie to Mark.
Mark slowly tilted his head. His gaze dropped from where it had been locked with Weston’s, and it lingered on Weston’s mouth.

“Shame for both of us to be left in the dark, don’t you think?” He leaned closer, his hand moving along Weston’s thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of Weston’s growing erection and his lips hovered a breath away. “Can’t count how many times I’ve come, wishing I was with you.”

He should be praying. He should be praying to God for strength. He should be praying to God for forgiveness for going as far as they had. It wouldn’t be the first time he had sought forgiveness because of Mark, but it would be the first time his sinful thoughts had crossed into reality. Weston couldn’t think of the words. People had tried to pull him before—being a priest seemed to encourage as many people as it discouraged. Weston had always been able to neatly and politely sidestep their advances. None of them had Mark’s piercing eyes. None of them smelled as good as Mark did in that moment. None of them knew him, could see through him, like Mark.

When their lips finally touched, Weston sighed. Mark’s mouth was warm and soft, and at first, he didn’t seem to want anything more than to press his lips to Weston’s. His body flooded with warmth. He cradled the back of Mark’s head with one hand and gripped his shirt with the other. A groan escaped Mark. It wasn’t until the sound died away that he seemed to find the strength to part his lips, to let his tongue slip out and trace along Weston’s, to seek out one corner before sweeping again to the other side. His fingers continued to flex, blunt nails nudging against Weston’s cock, as he gently massaged the hard line of Weston’s hip.

He tried to withstand the coaxing of Mark’s tongue, but he couldn’t do it. He parted his lips, the simple gesture an invitation to deepen the caress. He couldn’t take that back, couldn’t just calmly deny it happened. As Mark deepened the kiss, Wes realized he didn’t want to deny that moment. Weston’s experience was limited, to say the least, but he knew enough to know that Mark’s mouth was amazing. Dizzying.

Even after they both had to finally part to pant for air.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that,” Mark rasped.

“Mark…we can’t do that again.” The protest might have sounded stronger if Weston had pushed Mark’s hand away from his thigh, and if Mark’s mouth wasn’t so close to his.

Mark licked a path across Weston’s lower lip. “But you want me to.” He licked again, this time tracing along Weston’s trembling upper lip. “And I want to.” His teeth caught the wet corner of Weston’s mouth, just for a second, just long enough to send a jolt straight to Weston’s cock. “Don’t tell me this isn’t the best thing you’ve ever felt, mate. Because it is for me. I can only think of one thing that might feel better.”

It was the best thing he had ever felt, in every sense of the word. This simple contact was almost enough to make him delirious. “What?”

The hand that had been teasing along Weston’s arousal curled deliberately over his aching shaft. “Letting me suck you.”