22. Bryce
TWENTY-TWO
brYCE
“But what about the food? The lights?” Emerson asks as he walks over to a strand sloping between two pipes jutting up from the roof. “I strung fairy lights.”
“And this fairy couldn’t be more appreciative.” I place the foil lids on top of the takeout containers, snapping them into place. “But right now, I’m not interested in meatballs.”
“You want some sausage?”
Yes, the joke is cringe, but also … “Exactly.”
Emerson’s eyes catch mine, shimmering from the twinkling bulbs. “We can eat after.” There’s gravel in his voice.
He begins loosening his tie, and without thinking, I shout, “Stop! We’re not doing it here.” I motion to the concrete floor. “On the filthy roof. Let’s go down to the apartment.”
He nods, abandoning his full Windsor knot. “It’s only nine steps.”
My eyebrows jut up as I tilt my head.
“What? Didn’t you know that?” He shrugs. “I counted on my way up. For fun.”
“For fun.” I smile, shake my head as I quickly pack the food in Luigi’s brown paper bag, grab Bobo’s leash, and lead the way down to 6A.
Sensing the playful energy, Bobo trots a little faster than I expect, and between his leash and the takeout bag, I stumble down the last few steps.
“Are you okay?” Emerson’s right behind me, his firm hands under my arms as I fall back onto him. “I got you.”
“Yes. Fine. Or I will be.” My body resting on his sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Once we’re inside. And naked.”
He laughs, a booming chuckle that echoes in the hallway and makes my insides all gooey. We stand, using each other to balance, and head into the apartment.
He goes straight for the bedroom, but I need to get Bobo settled first. “Be right back.”
Emerson gives me a soft kiss on the mouth, perhaps a tease.
A taste. An appetizer. Then he pats my ass as I walk into the living room, Bobo trotting happily beside me, tail wagging like he’s got all the time in the world.
I’m not sure what he’s expecting, but tonight will not be like all the other recent nights.
I ease my hand along his back while leading him to the sofa.
“All right, buddy,” I say, nudging him onto the cushions. “It’s all yours again. Just like old times, huh?”
He looks up at me with those big, brown pleading eyes, as if he knows what I’m saying. I’m not sure if he’s happy about the current situation, but he lets out an enormous sigh, curls into a massive mound as the worn fabric of the couch creases around him.
I glance over at the bedroom door. Emerson’s probably already naked and lubed up. It’s just us tonight, no interruptions.
I give Bobo one last scratch behind the ears before I head toward the bedroom, knowing he’ll be right here, comfy, just like he always has been. A part of me feels guilty for leaving him behind, but I know he’s fine. He’s always been the best at making any place home.
After a quick pit stop in the bathroom, I barge into the bedroom, ready for action. “Okay, let’s f?—”
But I stop when I see Emerson standing by the bed, fully dressed, head down, and his right leg turned inward as if he’s lost.
“What’s wrong?” My voice feels too soft, like I’m afraid to break whatever fragile silence hangs between us. But something urges me to step closer, to close the distance, to understand what’s going on in his head.
He doesn’t immediately respond, but lifts his head slowly, eyes meeting mine with a look I can’t quite place.
It’s not fear, exactly, but there’s hesitation—like he’s unsure whether to trust me.
His gaze falters for a second, and I can see the conflict in his eyes.
The usual spark is dimmed, replaced by something more fragile, more vulnerable.
A knot tightens in my stomach, and I take another cautious step forward, barely daring to breathe.
For a moment, he doesn’t speak, just stands there, still, like he’s battling something. And then, finally, his lips part, but the words are quiet.
“I … I want this to be different.”
“Different?”
“Than last time.”
A knot tightens in my chest as the reality of what he’s saying sinks in. My thoughts flash back to the last time, the rushed, frantic sucking and fucking—impulsive, almost careless. It was incredibly hot, but certainly not … deep.
“Oh. Of course. I mean, last time we were horny jackrabbits. This time we’ll be …
” I trail off, searching for the right words, trying to lighten the moment.
“We’ll be turtles. Wait, are turtles sexy?
Besides the Teenage Mutant Ninja variety, of course.
That’s a given. But actual turtles.” I take his hand in mine.
“We’ll be more … intentional. Slower. Thoughtful. There’s no rush, right? ”
He looks at me, eyes searching, and there’s something new there—a flicker of hope, a longing for what we could be, something that isn’t just physical. Something deeper.
“Not only during … this.” He points to the bed. “I mean how we are. Together. In this apartment. Living together. How we communicate. I want it to be better. All of it.”
Oh. He’s not just talking about the sex. He’s talking about the whole damn thing.
“I want that too.” I plant a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.
“And another thing.” He pulls my fingers up to his mouth, returning the kiss. “I want to make sure I do things … well. Please you.”
My heart gives a little lurch, because of course he’s concerned about me.
“Okay. Let’s agree to talk more. I mean, communicate. Sure, out there.” I nod beyond the bedroom. “But also, in here.”
He nods, a small, tentative smile pulling at his lips. And for the first time in a long while, I feel like we might just have a chance at getting it right.
“Now,” I say. “Let’s get these clothes off.”
His mouth blooms into a bigger, brighter smile, and he nods, immediately returning to undoing his intricate knot.
“Wait.” I peel off my blazer, realizing I have much less clothing to remove than him. “Would you mind leaving it on? Just the tie.”
Emerson’s eyes widen, and he shrugs. “Um, sure. Whatever you want.”
Carefully, he lifts the tie and unbuttons his shirt. It’s a little tricky getting his white undershirt off with it on, but he’s a trooper. The minute his soft sandy chest hair comes into view, my fingers tingle at the prospect of getting lost in it.
Once we’re both naked, except for his tie, we stand by the bed, the light from the window giving me the perfect opportunity to simply take him in. After the opera, everything was so quick. Tonight, we’re taking our time. And that starts with simply appreciating him.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I say.
He fiddles with the blue and red striped tie around his neck. “I am?”
“Emerson, yes. You’re a big, beefy farm boy. But you’re also a nerdy professor. It’s a total win-win situation.”
He removes his glasses, placing them on the nightstand.
“Well, I am a professor. And a farm boy. Or was. I mean, yeah, this body was built by hard work.”
“You’re … gorgeous.” I move next to him, grasping his tie.
This time, he doesn’t ask questions. He simply lifts my chin and delivers a kiss that sends more blood to my semi-hard cock, causing it to poke at him. We’re smashing swords, and I’m careful not to tug on the tie too hard as I pull him closer.
“Now.” I plant a kiss on his chin. “I’m going to appreciate all this.”
Keeping the silk wrapped around my palm, I move down to his chest. The hair tickles my lips as I kiss and lick, paying attention to both nipples until I figure out he favors the left and lingering there.
“Oh, that’s nice,” he says. “I like that.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I mumble into his chest. “How about your stomach?”
I head down, the hair funneling into a trail toward his dick. My mouth brushes over his soft skin, and he shudders, a soft laugh escaping from his lips.
“Now, will you sit on the bed for me?”
He nods, doing as I ask.
“And toss me a pillow, please.”
With the pillow on the hardwood, I kneel between his legs, again appreciating the view I didn’t take the time to fully admire last time.
“Fuck, your cock is beautiful. ”
“Okay, I’ve definitely never heard that before.” He’s leaning back on his elbows, legs spread wide, and yeah, he has no clue what he’s packing.
“Well, take it from me. It is. Long and thick. But not too thick. Or veiny. Which is handy since I’d like to be able to walk after this. It’s an ideal dick. And it fits you.”
He’s watching me talk. Watching me study him. Without breaking eye contact, I kiss the head, licking around the tip before taking it in, sucking gently at first.
“How do you do that, Bryce? I’ve never had anyone … Oh, oh.”
I swirl my tongue over the entire head before running it down right to the base of his shaft, lingering there as my free hand massages his balls.
“Fuck, Bryce. Fuck.”
Slowly, opening the back of my throat, I take more in.
It’s work to keep my mouth open so wide, but damn, he’s worth it.
When my nose brushes against his soft pubic hair, he lets out a whimper.
A fucking whimper. My lips do their best to curl into a gentle smile.
I bob up and down, but not too fast. Tonight’s theme is Savoring Emerson, and I intend to honor that.
As I find a rhythm, the silk of Emerson’s tie brushes against the back of my neck. He’s leaning over, his hand moves under me, reaching for my dick, but it’s too far.
“Bryce, I want to … let me … please.”
Pulling off, I sit up straight on my knees and tug on the end of the tie, forcing his face closer.
“Tell me what you want.”
He nods toward my waist.
“Emerson. Tell me what you want.”
He licks his lips, taking a deep breath as we stare into each other’s eyes.
“Your cock.”
“Where? ”
“In my mouth. Please.”
“Of course.” I stand between his legs and pull his chin up so our gazes stay locked. “And you asked so politely.”
“But … I’ve never … well …”
His face flushes, and he avoids eye contact, fidgeting with his hands as a nervous smile creeps across his lips.
“Do you need some help?”