That Time We Faked It (Time On The Ice #3)

23. WADE

WADE

Surrender and Steam

A switch inside me snapped, seeing him like this—vulnerable, raw, his usual walls dismantled in my arms. Between all the things Cal had done—the way he’d defended me, the flawless planning for my brother’s engagement, the passion he poured into everything he touched, even the bar—it had cracked something open in me that I didn’t want to shut again. The idea of being alone, of a life without him, suddenly felt unbearable, unfathomable.

But I knew one truth, and it stung: Cal didn’t want me . Not really, not fully. He wanted one night, a quick, emotionless connection he could write off in the morning. And I hated that. Hated that, despite everything we’d been through, he’d still decided it was safer to keep me at a distance, as if I’d burn him if he got too close.

I felt him stiffen against me, maybe from the chill in the air or maybe from whatever battle raged in his mind. His skin was hot under the fabric of his suit, his muscles tight with the tension he always seemed to carry. And that’s when I made my decision. If Cal wanted me to take him apart, to give him a night he could disappear into, I’d oblige. But I’d make damn sure he’d remember it. I’d make him crave more, leave him drunk on me, yearning.

I would be the one he came back to, the one who showed him that he didn’t have to run. And when he did, I’d be there to show him exactly how he deserved to be loved.

With that, I turned, taking Cal with me, pressing my body against him, boxing him in on the door, my hands bracketing his head. I watched as he drank me in, and I let him, just for a moment before I feathered my lips over his, graced with a moan that told me he was as into this as I was, but I was going to keep him on edge. My lips left his, feathering over that jaw bone I had unwittingly imagined tracing with my lips. I slid them down his neck, savoring every breath, little mewl that he gave me, mentally logging every one for the perfect combination to send him wild. I didn’t move my hands from his head, not yet, and the tease of my hands not touching him had the desired effect when he began grinding against me. His tight suit pants did nothing to hide the effect on him and I had to tell myself to calm down – because the desire to get on my knees for him and worship his steel length was almost too much to bear.

“Jack, please.” He begged, and I tried not to let the nickname get to me, because it was another way to keep me at arms length. I nipped his collarbone, but didn’t say a word. My hands slowly moved from the door, and I felt his body’s energy being coiled up like a tight spring. My hands moved under his blazer slowly moving up to push it off his shoulders. As it fell to the ground Cal’s hands found my jacket and he deftly tried to even the score. But I wasn’t having any of it, he couldn’t have me if he wanted me to just fuck him.

I got his wrists in my hands, and in one quick movement I had him spinning hands against the door and me behind him. That was one way to distract me from getting my mouth on his cock. His breath was erratic as I began to move down his neck once more, inhaling his scent and logging it all to memory. My hands came around his body, unbuttoning his shirt buttons all so slowly I wasn’t sure who was torturing who more.

My hands rolled up his silky soft skin as the last button popped and he rolled his head back onto my shoulder, my hands stopped at his pecks, taking a moment to feel his heavy breaths, the heavy beat of his heart– A heart I wanted to capture as mine. I moved to fondle his nipples alternating between hard pinches and soothing with the roll of my thumb, his hips moved involuntary craving to be touched.

“Jack,” He sighed, eyes closed as he absorbed the sensation. I felt his hands move behind my neck but I roughly put them back against the door.

“They move when I tell them to, pretty boy.” He whimpered but nodded against my shoulder.

“Good boy.” I growled before one hand moved to lightly cup his throat keeping his head in place, my other hand slowly, oh so slowly tracing his tight V towards his cock that was testing the confines of his trousers. He sucked in his breath, and I tried not to get too lost in the way he reacted to me, his body vibrating under my touch like I was a live wire touching every nerve fiber. It was a power that could easily become addictive.

My fingers lazily moved under his pants, feeling the band of the briefs I knew would have me going wild with how well they hugged his ass. The smooth pop of his trousers top button and the smooth glide of this zip had the man in my arms going mad. Writhing against me, his firm ass finding my hard length and pushing back into it. The action caused me to hiss out a breath.

“Keep doing that pretty boy and this won't last very long.” I warned as he continued his measured grinds, trying to take control when little did he know, I was the one who was controlling this encounter, not him.

“Good, hurry up and fuck me.” He spoke in breathy pants.

“I will fuck you, Pretty boy, When I say I will fuck you.” I pushed him hard against the door enough for him to not have room to move those talented hips.

I went back to where I was, my thumb rolling over his length, the mixture of soft underwear and a hard steely length beneath it, it jerked against me begging and pleading for my touch– Instead I moved away causing Cal to let out a moan of loss.

“Patience, Pretty boy.”

My hands moved to his hips, and I worked my way down pulling his pants inch by inch, kissing each bit of skin as it revealed itself. As I got to his angry ankle I took more care, lifting it and I heard the slight discomfort at the notion. His pants off I decided I no longer wanted him on his feet as appealing as it would have been to fuck him against my doorway, I didn’t want to put more pressure on his ankle than needed. In a quick move I spun and threw him over my shoulder rewarding me with an adorable squeak.

“Jack! As much as I like this view of this ass, I want it clenching as you fuck me, not see it, I’m a bottom babe.”

I chuckled, it wasn’t the first time he made a joke about his preference in the room, which suited me perfectly fine.

“Don’t worry Pretty boy, you will have me soon enough, but first I need you writhing, panting, until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Fuck me,” He breathed out before I placed him on the bed, he looked at me with lust filled eyes drinking me in. I couldn’t help but admire every hard part of his lithe and athletic body. It was a far cry from mine, I had muscle, sure, but I wasn’t all hard plains, I had soft spots, here and there, thighs that were large, but more from my healthy appetite than muscles. I wondered what he would think once my clothes were off, but as if he read my mind, “Are you not going to show me what’s under that suit, Mr. GQ.” I shook my head with laughter, only to look up at the softness that followed there.

“Not yet.”

There was a whine, but he didn’t ask again.

“Turn around, hands and knees.” I commanded, and I watched as he nearly came right there at the command, he nodded all too excitedly before he flipped over, bending to show me that perfect ass, arching in need. I swore under my breath, remembering my role in this. I moved in, hearing every breath of anticipation like it was the music to my blood– making it pump in time with his.

I closed in behind him, my fully clothed body draped over his bare smooth skin, as much as I craved the skin to skin, it wasn’t going to happen that night. I kissed down his spine, hands slipping under to pinch and roll his nipples between forefinger and thumb. I stopped my kissing at the base of his spine, only to bite the edge of his underwear and pull, watching the fabric glide over his perfectly round ass. I couldn’t help myself once they pooled at his knees, my teeth bit his ass hard enough for him to yelp, and pleasure sat deep within knowing he would feel that and remember my touch.

My hands left their spot on his nipples, gliding down to cup his balls which were heavy in my hand. Then I fisted his cock, feeling the pulse under my fingers as I gave it a long hard pull. Cal swore into the covers, body shaking under my hold. I moved my hands again, keeping him writhing wanting more.

“Please, please.” He begged and I was unsure he even knew what he was begging for. I moved to cup his ass and spread his cheeks to see the hole that was begging for my mouth. I got to my knees and at the sound of them hitting the floor, my pretty boy let out a slur of profanities in anticipation.

“Do you want my tongue on this pretty hole,” I growled, and Cal wined which told me he was getting close already. I leaned in closer, fanning my breath—loving his reaction.

It was then I took what I wanted, rimming him until he was a sweaty, writhing mess on the bed begging to be fucked. I only touched his cock when he was going to come, tightening my fist around the base to stop the urge.

“You will come, when I say you will come.”

“Well– F-fuck me!” He cried, and I gave his ass one more lick, saving the musky taste on my tongue that told me one time of having him was never going to be enough. I stood to my full height.

“Don’t move, don’t touch your cock.” I commanded before going to the nightstand to retrieve supplies.

Cal turned his head to watch me, eyes cloudy with desire. I stood there over him as I undid my trouser button, slowly teasing him before I pushed both my pants, and my underwear down to my thighs. He swore at the sight of me, but if I was guessing correctly he liked what he saw. And guessing by the way he licked his lips, he wanted to suck me.

“One suck, that’s all you get.”

In a flash he moved towards me, his hands on my thighs and I closed my eyes against the sensation. It had been such a long time since I was touched. His mouth moved over my head, and I watched him take me in, bit by bit, like he was savoring every moment, drawing it out to test my patience. If he was going to have his taste, it seemed he was determined to make it last. Slow. Deliberate. A show of control that made my pulse hammer harder with every flick of his tongue.

When it rolled over the Jacob’s Ladder piercings, I couldn’t stop the curse that slipped from my lips. He smirked, knowing damn well he was teasing himself just as much as me, imagining how they’d feel inside him.

I reached down, cupping his cheek with my palm, my thumb brushing against his flushed skin.

“That’s enough, Pretty Boy,” I murmured, my voice steady but firm. “You got your taste.”

But when he didn’t let up, didn’t so much as pause, I leaned over and let my hand smack against his bare ass with a sharp crack.

“Off. Now,” I ordered, the edge in my tone undeniable. “Show me your ass.”

The sound of my words lit something in his eyes—excitement, anticipation, and a spark of defiance that only fueled the heat between us. With a final, deliberate pull, his mouth left me with a wet pop .

He lingered for a heartbeat, staring at me like he was savoring the sight, his lips slick and parted, his breath uneven.

“Now, Pretty Boy,” I repeated, and the command in my voice was enough to make him move.

For once he was quiet, turning around, lifting his ass for show, He looked over his shoulder.

“I want to see your chest.” He commanded, and I slapped his ass.

“I make commands here, and men I fuck don’t get to see all of me.”

With that my fingers swiped over his hole. Adding lube, I began stretching him for me, making sure I did it to the point where he was begging, and oh, he was begging, but it wasn’t until I heard the name I was waiting for. “Wade, please, please, I am begging you, fuck me.”

At that, I prepared myself and in one smooth thrust I entered him. I paused as his body adjusted perfectly around me, leaning back so he could have me to the hilt. I had to steady myself holding his hips in an almost bruising force.

“Ready to be fucked, Pretty boy?”

He nodded frantically against the sheets, and it seemed the man who talked more than he breathed was without words.

“Say it.” I tested my hip thrust which gave me the response I wanted.

“Fuck me, Wade.”

And so I did. I fucked him like he asked, driving into him until his cries echoed against the walls, his release painting my sheets in trembling surrender. A few final thrusts, and I followed, my body tensing before giving in to the crashing wave.

But as the haze of sex lifted, a quieter thought crept in. What would it be like—to do this not just for tonight, but to wake up to him? To have more than this fleeting moment?

I pulled out, fighting the urge to linger on his contented sigh, the way his body lay limp and sated against the bed. I forced myself to move, I cleaned up quickly before heading to the bathroom. The bath was easy enough to run, the steam curling into the air like an unspoken promise of comfort.

When I came back into the room, he was still sprawled on the bed, a slow, sated smile tugging at his lips. He looked up at me with an almost lazy curiosity, like he wasn’t quite sure what came next.

“Come on, Pretty Boy.”

I scooped him into my arms and carried him to the bathroom, his weight warm and pliant against my chest. He let out a soft sound of surprise as I lowered him into the steaming water, the heat drawing another sigh from him as it lapped at his skin.

He looked up at me then, a hint of confusion mingling with the haze of satisfaction in his gaze. I ignored it, pressing a glass of wine into his hand before stepping back.

“Take your time,” I said, my voice softer now, quieter. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

But as I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but hope—that somewhere in those thoughts, I’d linger.