14. Kieran
Chapter 14
Kieran
Kissing Clay was the best bad idea I’d ever given into. On paper, we were a recipe for disaster. Shane’s dislike of him because of the way he’d hurt Archer was only some of the reason this was a bad idea. At the end of the day, Clay had problems and I couldn’t be one of them. I also couldn’t be a solution to any of them. But it had been getting harder to ignore the current of attraction that flowed between us.
Today, he’d been so open with me. We’d had fun and I liked to think that the man I’d laughed with this afternoon was the real Clay. The one who existed outside of all his mistakes. The one who wasn’t burdened by the decisions he’d made.
No good could come of this. Shane would kill me, but in this moment I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to me was the salty taste of Clay’s lips and the way he clung to me so tightly I felt every single tremble that shook him.
It was getting harder to remind myself that this was a terrible idea when Clay’s mouth was soft and willing. His tongue caressed mine and I knew what want was. Want was the feral thing inside me that threatened to break free and pin Clay down underneath me. It had teeth that wanted to tear his clothes off his body so I could finally see the thing I’d dreamed of.
Because I’d be lying to myself if I said I hadn’t thought of him. It’s all I’d done for weeks. At first with animosity. Then with a shred of compassion. And then, as he started to smile now and again, with a fondness I hadn’t expected to feel.
His hair was soft and he let out a little moan when I played with the shorter strands at the back of his neck. Clay leaned into me like he wanted me to consume him. As I kissed my way up his jawline, he managed to loosen his grip on my shirt. His hand slid up my chest. Gentle fingers swept up the side of my neck and then he was cradling my face and pulling me back to him.
My body wanted me to do a lot more than kiss, but I could kiss him forever. Kissing him was better than I’d imagined it to be, and my imagination had been very generous in that regard. But nothing could live up to the way he melted into my arms. The feel of his breath on my skin. The breathless whimpers that he tried to suppress were all part of the experience that made this real. More real than anything I’d expected.
Somewhere between picking him up in the hospital, and wandering into this hotel room together, I’d gone and built an attraction to Clay that went beyond him being my type. I’d always liked guys like Clay. Shorter and more slender than me. The kind I could toss around if I wanted to. I liked the way smaller men fit in my arms, but it was more than a cursory attraction that had me kissing him.
It was that I’d thought of it for weeks now. Of what it would be like. Of the look on his face if I did it.
“Kieran, please,” Clay gasped against my lips. I felt the way he moved his mouth to form my name and I wanted to sink back into that space.
“Please, what? What do you need?” I’d give him whatever he wanted. I’d been bewitched by him, I was sure of it. But I didn’t want to break the spell .
Clay’s next words came out with a bit of a laugh. “Touch me. God, please, fucking touch me. It’s all I’ve thought about.” Clay writhed against me, needy and shameless and desperate.
“We’ll need a bit of a position change.” I kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Anything, just please. I—” He laughed a little. “I’ve been jerking with my left hand and, let me tell you, while I’ve improved quite a bit, it’s not nearly as good as what I’ve thought this would be.”
“You’ve thought about this?” Clay’s admission stunned me. I met his gaze, looking for signs that he was lying, but I saw only raw honesty. Sincerity. Clay, flayed open and laid bare for me. The tilt of the mouth gave away his reluctance when he admitted that he wasn’t lying.
“I’ve gotten pretty good at getting off left-handed, but I have a feeling even my right hand won’t compare to anything you could do to me.”
Unable to stand it, I kissed him again. Hard and deep, I licked my way inside his mouth and kissed him like I wanted to consume him. Clay melted into my arms and though I could spend all night kissing him, he’d asked me for something that was in my power to give.
Reluctantly, I pulled away and rearranged myself so I was sitting up, leaning against the headboard. Stretching my legs out, I spread them and patted the space between them.
“Come here,” I told him and despite the way he narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what I was up to, he listened. He settled in the space I’d created and slowly leaned back, using my body as a pillow.
Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him against me and buried my face in the curve of his neck. I inhaled the scent of his hair, vaguely strawberry-esque, like his shampoo, but also just him. Earthy and salty and real .
Skating my hands down his chest, I found the button of his jeans and gave them a tug. When my first attempt failed, Clayton laughed at me.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Pants are tricky.” Using his left hand, he somehow popped the button open with ease.
“Smartass,” I said, nipping at the top of his ear.
“The amount of times I’ve been called that makes me think it’s the smartest part of me.” Clay joked, wriggling back against me.
“Slander.” I finished opening Clay’s fly and reached down and rubbed him through the fabric of his briefs. I was glad he couldn’t see the way I smiled when he hissed and arched up into my touch.
He tried to say something, but it came out incoherent. I wrapped my other arm around him, keeping him pinned against me. My heart slammed into my ribcage and I wondered if he could feel it beating against him.
Clay felt good in my hand, hot and ready, hard and needy. He chased my touch like he’d die without it. After I’d worked him into a state of writhing, messy desire, I helped him shove his pants down and out of the way before taking him in hand.
“Oh, fucking finally.” Clay sighed, relaxing against me as skin came in contact with skin. His cock had been leaking and the tip was slick with precum. Clay’s cock was perfectly proportioned to his body, about six inches long, but thick, with a mouth-watering mushroom head. Clay went taut under my touch, his whole body constricting and arching up into my hand.
“Shhh,” I whispered in his ear. “There’s no rush.”
He let out a sardonic laugh. “Says the man with two good hands.”
“I’m sure you’ve managed just fine.” I loosened my grip to torture him and it worked. He let out a frustrated, keening sound that was almost mournful. I smiled into his hair. “Tell me what you thought about. Tell me how you touched yourself.”
My hand skated lower until I found the hem of his shirt. Sliding underneath the fabric, I felt the way Clay’s stomach muscles danced under my touch.
“Oh, God. I can’t.”
I started to pull away, withholding the touch he wanted so desperately. “I think you can.”
Clay shook his head, but started talking a mile a minute. “It had been so long since I got hard that I thought it was broken, you know. Even before—” He cut himself off and started again. “When you enter a room that I’m in, it feels like my body wakes up from a fucking coma.” He moaned as I tightened my grip, rewarding his honesty.
“Tell me how you get off. Do you think about me?”
Clay nodded. “You’re—I lie on my bed, okay. And I think of you and how you could just pin me down under you and do anything you wanted to me, and how I’d let you.”
My dick twitched at the way his voice caught on his confession, like it took all his strength to speak the words, but he did it anyway.
“Is that what you want?” Changing my grip, I slid my palm down his cock and let my fingers brush over his balls. I liked that he left his body hair alone. It was easy to imagine me burying my face between his legs and eating him until he sobbed and came, and maybe came again.
Clay was beyond words now. Reduced to noises and heavy breaths, he writhed under my touch, chased the palm of my hand as it slid over his cock. Without lube it couldn’t have been the most comfortable hand job on the planet, but the way his chest heaved I was under the impression that he might kill me if I stopped .
Clay reached up with his left hand and dug his fingers into my arm. I slowed my pace again, purposely backing off so he wouldn’t come so fast. My own cock throbbed in sympathy and I had half a mind to flip him over and pin him down and rut against him until we both came with our limbs and tongues tangled together.
Turning his head, he looked up at me and I craned my head to meet him in an awkward kiss. Our tongues touched and Clay shivered. I tasted his relief when he came. If I thought he’d melted into me before, I was mistaken, because now he was practically liquid in my arms.
“Can I—what about you?” Clay asked, wriggling around somewhat clumsily as he tried to roll over to return the favor.
“You don’t have to.”
He scoffed at me. “I know that, but I really fucking want to.” Clay’s voice was husky and deep, the sharp edge of arousal now dulled into something calmer. He managed to turn enough to look me straight in the eyes. The fingers of his right hand plucked at the sleeve of my shirt. “Please.”
“Get on your back. Get comfortable.” I didn’t want him straining anything or hurting himself to pleasure me. I slid out of the way so he could lie down. His eyes widened when I took my shirt off over my head and cast it aside. Hunger flashed in his eyes, pleasing me down to my bones. He stretched his arms out like a starfish and I raked my gaze down his body.
I wanted to believe that everything that happened in this room was a bad idea. That it was a symptom of stress and two people blowing off steam, but I knew that wasn’t true. There was nothing bad about the way Clay made me feel when I touched him, or when he looked at me like that .
“Don’t keep me waiting, Kieran.” A smile tugged at his mouth and I crossed the room, compelled to close the distance and kiss it off his lips.