Chapter 19 #2
Any other time, any other person, he’d have strutted right out of his bathroom, proud of the reaction this would no doubt elicit from the man waiting for him in the next room.
But that wasn’t what this was. He wasn’t a prize to be unwrapped, not with Nate.
This had to be the first time Connor had ever felt so equal.
Nate was right where Connor had left him in his living room, his lips parting as Connor stepped into the light.
“Jesus, Connor,” Nate breathed, rising to his feet. And when he came to approach Connor, dark eyes flickering up to meet his, Connor could only jerk his head, mirroring Nate's way of pointing things out with his chin.
Not here.
Not in his living room, in full view of the large windows.
No, back in his bedroom instead. It was a space Nate had occupied before, a space Connor had gladly welcomed him. And here he returned, a repentant pilgrim to lay himself at Connor’s feet.
And God help him, Connor had never wanted him more.
Nate caught Connor’s hand, pulling him close so they were chest to chest. His fingers brushed the edge of the towel, but he didn’t pull it off.
Connor wasn’t some prize for him to unwrap.
Instead, he kissed him. Without demand, without preamble, Nate just kissed him, his hand cradling the back of Connor’s head, fingertips curling just to scrape his nails against his scalp.
All lips, tongue, want creeping from him, leaking out and playing as desperation from Nate. And maybe Connor liked him a little desperate, the way Nate held him like he might run out on him for what would be the fourth time now.
But Connor wasn’t going anywhere. He was right where he wanted to be. And as they kissed, as Nate pressed against him, Connor could feel just how hard he was in those jeans.
He dropped his towel about the same time Nate decided to pull off his shirt, dropping his pants, his black boxer briefs, leaving behind a nudity that mirrored Connor, his cock flushed and swollen with the heat of his arousal.
God help him, he’d seen Nate naked probably a dozen times now, had traced every inch of his cock with his hands and tongue, tasted the bitter salt of his arousal. Nothing about Nate now was anything Connor had never seen before, but this was different.
Nothing between them, nothing hidden, held back.
And when Connor raked his gaze down the taut, tan build of Nate's body, he could only swallow to wet his too-dry mouth, hungry for what lay before him.
His gaze locked on the attractive curve of Nate's length, the twitch of his cock striking a swoop in his stomach.
Connor dragged his gaze back up to Nate's face, wondering if he could tell that he was a touch past obsessed, past fixated, the entire motivation of his existence being to get that cock inside him.
He wanted all of it. Nate atop him, pressed down by the weight of his body, his legs back to his chest and held there by Nate's strong hands as he sank down into Connor, all the way to the hilt.
Go on, he thought. I’m all yours.
But that was where they differed, where Nate himself differed from the man who came before him. Because Nate didn’t see him like that, as a thing that could ever belong to him.
When Nate backed him against his bed, yes, Connor was the first to fall back. But he pulled Nate in with him, catching his hand and his lips, the two of them side by side atop the sheets.
And they kissed until Connor couldn't take it anymore, his cock weeping from neglect, Nate's flushed crimson, and he ached to be stretched open.
“What do you say?” Connor breathed, smoothing a hand down his own body. “Think you wanna fuck me?”
“Yeah, I've wanted to for a while,” Nate confessed, pressing himself into Connor's side, his erection pressing into his thigh. “I could bend you over, or take you like this, just laying behind you.”
His dark eyes seemed to trace an invisible line down to Connor's cock, then back up to his lips.
“You tell me. I'll do it. Anything for you.”
“I need to see you,” Connor blurted out, squeezing Nate's hand before he could feel embarrassed about it. “I need to see you,” he said again, his voice softer.
But Nate just kissed him, and Connor's hand found his shoulder, and maybe Nate pushed him back, maybe he pulled him down, but his body blanketing Connor’s felt like finally getting to breathe as he settled atop him.
Oh, this was really happening.
He knew he could stop it whenever he wanted, at any point he could tell Nate he was done–and that made it all the easier for Connor to steady himself as his legs found a comfortable place against his hips, as he circled an arm around Nate's shoulders, fingertips brushing down the bumps of his vertebrae.
“Good?” Nate asked, and Connor could only nod.
“Good. Just settling in,” he said with a small smile, shifting beneath Nate, his head flat against the sheets.
Like he was laying at the edge of the world, only Nate to cling to so he wouldn't fall.
But he must have looked uncomfortable enough, because the lines in Nate's forehead creased.
“What do you need, a pillow?” He offered, like there was a problem he needed to solve, like that was the only way to atone.
“Nothing. I just need you,” Connor replied in a soft voice, his fingertips brushing Nate's jaw.
“Don’t do that, Connor,” Nate cut through, his voice strained. “Don’t take the worst option just for me.”
His words struck in Connor’s chest, the two men looking at each other, a seemingly telepathic debate playing out between them.
But he was right.
God, he was right.
Connor always did take the short end of the stick.
“Cmon,” Nate said softly. “You’ve got, what six pillows here? Let’s at least get you one for your head.”
Connor smiled a wry smile.
“I have a better idea.”
He pointed out a good pillow, a nice lumbar cushion, and helped Nate wedge it under his lower back, tilting his hips up, raised higher than his head as Nate pressed him back into the mattress, his legs high against those hips.
Open for him, his for the taking.
And Connor let himself feel it, feeling just how vulnerable he was now, entirely exposed. He told Nate to grab a condom from the tin on his nightstand, lube in the same place.
But even as he watched Nate do as he was told, Connor felt his stomach swoop, anxiety threatening to get the best of him.
His fingers twitched and he reached for Nate’s hand before he could resist the urge.
Nate squeezed his hand almost immediately, a reassuring press that said I’m here.
“You okay?” Nate asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m good,” Connor answered, leaning up to catch Nate’s lips. Anxiety be damned, truer words had never been spoken.
For all that he loved to bottom, to take up this role in bed with other men, Connor had always held a bit of himself in a cautious wariness.
He’d spread his legs for another man, feel another man’s weight pressing him into the mattress, or the desk, or the galley counter, all the places Connor had ever been with another man–and for all that he wanted to be there, for all that he was asking for it and coaxing them on, some small part of him couldn’t help but think, don’t hurt me.
Of course, Dawson had. They’d been young and inexperienced, trying out what they’d seen only in porn, though Connor had been ever the one to power through any kind of pain.
Curtis had hurt him plenty, too, just never physically.
He was a man for whom experience was written in the crows feet as his grey eyes, the silver streaking his dark hair, the confident way he held and touched Connor.
But for all his carelessness for Connor’s career, his wellbeing, his heart, why not also his body?
And yet, Connor couldn’t imagine that Nate would.
No, he knew.
Nate might be clumsy, he might be a little sloppy, he might even be well-intentioned all the way down that road to hell, but Connor knew this man would die before he hurt him.
“I know you prepped yourself already, but–” Nate swallowed, stroking his hands down Connor’s ribs. “Think you’d let me eat you out?”
Connor’s lip curled.
Fuck, he’d never had a guy just offer that before. He eyed Nate's lips, plump and full. How could he say no?
“You don't have to do that,” Connor breathed, even though he really wanted Nate to do it.
“I want to,” Nate replied, and how could he possibly resist?
He could only nod, kissing Nate in a mess of tongue and teeth, drawing in shuddering breath after shuddering breath.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He scaled his way down the length of Connor’s body, his palms sliding under his thighs, pushing his knees back into his chest. Connor bit back his gasp, sucking in a steadying breath as he looked up at the ceiling, his fingernails scraping against the sheets.
Exposed.
He felt like a prey animal, just like Nate's rabbit, caught out in the open. If he didn't know better, it would be easy to think that Nate was descending upon him much like a hawk.
But his lips met Connor’s skin in a soft embrace, tongue tracing around the shape of his scrotum, drawing a shuddering breath that strained against his ribs. Nate’s fingers scraped his skin, his lips against his perineum–
And his tongue.
Right against the sensitive heat of Connor’s hole, teasing him open in slow, tantalizing strokes.
The first had only surprised him.
The second tore a choked moan out through Connor’s lips.
By the third, the fourth, he’d lost count, gripped the sheets in a white-knuckled fist while he clamped his other hand over his mouth.
Like he could retain any scrap of his dignity with Nate working him into a puddle like this.
The first time he’d let Nate go down on him like this, well, it hadn’t felt nearly like this.
For one, Connor had been too caught up in his own surprise to really enjoy it.
He’d come, yes, but then he’d been too caught up in his head, how he might look, trying to project a sexy image for Nate–Connor hadn’t been able to let himself really enjoy it.
Not like he did now, head falling back against the sheets, giving in and tangling his fingers in those soft, dark curls growing out of Nate’s scalp.