Chapter 13 #4
Connor caught him by the belt loop of his jeans, pulling him just close enough to grind his hips against Nate’s thigh, letting loose a choked moan as he sought his lips.
But Nate’s hand worked its way between them, pushing up the hem of Connor’s sweater, pulling open his jeans as his fingers encircled the shaft of his cock, tugging him out of his underwear.
Pathetic as it was, he could have come from just that, just being touched by Nate. By some miracle, he didn’t.
No, instead he arched back, catching Nate’s upper arms, fingers digging into his skin as he tried to steady himself despite thighs that wouldn’t stop trembling.
“Easy there,” Nate breathed, one of his hands moving to Connor’s waist. “I got you.”
And fuck if that didn’t make him come right then and there.
Connor only managed to back Nate back towards his bed, his own jeans dropping to the floor, but he kicked them away as Nate managed his own.
Jeans, underwear, each gone and lost to the ether of his bedroom floor.
Nate looked back at his bed, gaze flickering back to meet his like he was asking for permission.
But Connor answered by pressing a hand against his chest–permission granted, or perhaps an order.
But Nate let himself be led where Connor wanted him, almost falling back into his bed before managing to recover, propping himself up on his elbows a little breathlessly.
“Like what you see?” Nate asked with a grin, and oh did he.
Nate in his bed.
Nate, utterly naked, in his bed.
Connor wished he had a camera, wished he had any kind of artistic skill, that he could capture the sensual and erotic sight of this man, the warmth of his bare skin, the dark curls of his pubic hair at the base of a delicious erect penis, swollen nearly to its full length and flushed a dark crimson at the tip.
His cock twitched against the curve of his thigh–Connor liked to think it might have been just from the way he looked at Nate now, finding himself feeling like he might devour him.
Fuck, maybe he would.
He knew how Nate’s cock tasted, knew the way his body tensed and twitched as he came, the expression he wore in the throes of his pleasure.
None of this was what Connor should know about his boss; yet he did, and he loved every part of it.
His gaze flickered up to find Nate’s, still looking up at him with far too much vulnerability in those soft brown eyes, kiss-swollen lips just barely parted, eyebrows furrowed like he was afraid Connor might be on the precipice of throwing him out.
Like he could ever throw him out again.
“You planning on joining me?” Nate asked, smoothing a hand against the sheets. “Or are you just gonna stare all night?”
“That’s a hard decision,” Connor finally answered. Once upon a time, he knew how to flirt. Once upon a time, he was sure he didn’t sound nearly this awkward. “It’s pretty easy to stare at you.”
Nate licked his lips, his gaze dropping down to Connor’s cock, he was sure, before flickering back up.
“Yeah? Looks like you’re enjoying the view.”
Connor arched an eyebrow.
“Can you blame me?”
And Nate cracked a smile.
“So that’s your plan. You cook for guys, you get them in your bed, and then you–what, watch?”
And he spread his legs, palm smoothing up a tan thigh, thumb digging into his own flesh before resting the curve of his hand against the base of his cock.
“I can put on a good show if that’s your thing,” Nate added.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Connor warned, feeling his voice catch in his throat.
And Nate licked his lips again, jerking his head at Connor.
“Then don’t keep me waiting. Get over here.”
How could he possibly resist that?
Connor found himself scrambling into his own bed to join Nate, a strong arm around his middle as he was pulled atop him, their legs tangling together.
He ground his hips down against Nate’s, biting back a choked whimper that Nate pulled out from him anyway with a biting kiss, his own hips jerking up to meet Connor’s.
Hot, thick length met swollen, aching cock in a sloppy, clumsy slide of skin against skin, until Connor’s hand snaked between their bodies, stretching his fingers out as far as he could to wrap around the two of them.
He felt Nate’s hand at his wrist, just for a moment, a whisper of yes at his lips as his head fell back, as he thrust up into Connor’s hand and Connor moved to meet him, an easy rocking of their bodies against one another like waves against a shore.
And Nate’s eyes caught his, soft browns darkening as he stopped Connor, as he spat into his own hand and replaced his grip around their cocks, hot and slick and drawing an unseemly groan from Connor, his own hand finding Nate’s wrist.
“Yes?” Nate asked against his lips, and Connor nodded, hardly able to get the words out.
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, anything in the world so long as Nate kept touching him like this, if it would keep his body warm and pliant against his, strong and masculine and just soft enough–
“Fuck, Nate–”
Nate’s thumb swiped relentlessly over the too-sensitive head of Connor’s cock, smearing slick beads of precome–his, Connor’s, the both of theirs–over dry skin.
His hips stuttered against the body beneath him, skin against skin near painful.
Maybe it was for Nate, too, because he pulled his hand back, spat right into his palm again, and slicked them both up with gentle strokes.
“Better?” He asked, his voice hoarse.
Connor just kissed him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, hips stuttering into his touch. Too warm, too hot, the slickness of his spit adding just enough slide between their cocks, enough of a magma heat there at his core.
“Yeah–Jesus, Nate–don’t stop–”
“Don’t worry about that,” Nate breathed beneath him, a warm hand coming to cup the back of his neck, his nails scraping against the shorthairs there in a way that sent goosebumps up Connor’s arms.