Chapter 5
I lower my head, and our mouths meet.
It’s so much better than any amount of aloe vera.
Softer, and way more soothing. For him as well, I think.
There’s less gloss to his gaze when I pull back, no new dampness for him to hide by turning his back on me.
I’m pretty sure his eyes shine now for a better reason, and him going up on tiptoes to loop his arms around my neck confirms it.
So does Dair lifting his chin to ask for more without saying a word.
My own voice rumbles. “Yeah?”
He nods fast, so I give him the second kiss he wants right here in a bathroom too tired and dated to impress investors, but who needs Flynn’s flashy Italian marble when they could have something this honest? And Dair is honest with me when our noses bump.
“Sorry, sorry.” He’s breathless. Pink-cheeked. So fucking pretty. “I’m out of practice.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, I guessed you wouldn’t be.” His arms loosen around my neck. “You’re so good-looking.”
“I meant that I’m not sorry about our noses bumping.” He’s been honest with me. I do the same for him. “It’s been a while for me too.”
He smiles up at me then, and that’s fucking magic until he slips on some spilled salve.
Maybe. I don’t know or care, just as long as I’m here to catch him before he can brain himself on a cast-iron bathtub.
At least its old age means this bath is sturdy—I sit on its side and don’t need to worry about it taking my weight or his when I pull Dair onto my lap, and not only for his safety.
I want to hold him. Want him to feel as coated in care.
And now that our heads are at the same level, I get to do that.
This third attempt at a first kiss is the charm, perfect from the get-go.
Soft to start, then slow and searching. So are the fingers he folds into hair I’m glad is longer than usual.
Skipping a few of Marilyn’s offers to give me a trim means Dair can slide his fingers through it, which he does, over and over, all while our mouths are connected.
He even pulls on it a little, and like when his thumbs found the dimples at the base of my back, I can’t be quiet about it.
I release a similar sound, which might be embarrassing if his tongue slipping into my mouth didn’t feel about as desperate.
Forget slow. This is faster. Slick and needy. Hot, and the temperature only increases when I draw him closer.
Then we’re really going at it.
I can’t remember the last time I kissed for this long. Or this deeply. Dair doesn’t let go of my hair the whole time, like he thinks I’ll stop kissing him back if he frees me.
I won’t.
Turns out this is the kind of bondage I am into. I’m going nowhere, and I’m not complaining about any of that tugging. This is the best I’ve felt in I don’t know how long. One thing is for certain—my cock isn’t confused any longer. It wants out of my jeans, and Dair is on the same page.
He lets go of my hair to slide his hands south while we kiss.
His palms are still slick. They skim my bare chest, those same soothing fingers now leaving tingles, and that journey south stops at the bulge behind my fly.
His knuckles brush over it. Do it again, slower.
And harder. Dair stares down at what he’s done to me before his gaze rises, and if I thought he looked good before, this version is even better.
This shine in his eyes is one hundred percent sexual, and I like that difference. Like, too, that his voice turns easily as rough as I’ve sounded several times this evening. It tells me I’m not alone in wanting this more than breathing.
“Vincent, can we—”
Can we?
Fuck, yes.
Should we?
I’ll think about that later. Right now, I’m more invested in getting his clothes off.
I want to touch him like he’s touched me. Want him completely naked and bent over the sink so I can get my mouth on him where he’ll get similar tingles to the ones he’s made me feel all over.
Fuck tingles.
He’s taken my mind off the emptiness that—
No.
I’m not thinking about someone who didn’t need me once I served my purpose. Who used me, a fact that Blake spat out the same way a rifle spits out bullets. And I’m not going to waste a single moment on a future-faker who Harry said sold dreams but never, ever came through when it mattered.
Dair’s a different person.
He must be. I’ve had more care in this bathroom than I know what to do with, and all of it came from someone else who has been royally shafted. He lifts his arms, and I stop thinking about anything that doesn’t involve getting him naked.
I’m gonna make him feel as good as he’s made me.
As relieved and as connected. I get his fleece jacket gone and the scrub top he wore beneath it, which lets me see more than a lean torso and sprinkling of auburn chest hair.
It also shows me that he’s as up for fucking as me—he stands between my spread legs, his hard-on tenting his trousers, and I change my mind about where I want my mouth on him first.
I’ll suck him off before I rim him.
I get started on that by releasing his dick. At least I try to—the drawstring of his trousers fights back. I’m all fingers and thumbs, but the heel of my palm must push against someplace that feels good—he drags in a sharp breath, and his knees buckle.
I catch him again.
Haul him back to straddle my lap.
Meet eyes that are suddenly all deep, dark pupils. “Yeah?”
He nods, so I repeat the movement that caused his sharp inhale, slower this time, and more firmly. The heel of my palm presses him from root to tip, and Dair shudders. He also locks his arms around my neck for a second time this evening, like I’m a rock to cling to.
I can be that for one evening. Can give him what he needs tonight instead of taking from him like every other fucker he’s encountered lately. So that’s what I do—I rub his dick through his trousers like we’ve got all the time in the world, all while snogging his face off.
I haven’t done this in forever.
Haven’t got off with someone like we’re both teens fumbling our way to a first time.
My tongue makes itself at home with his while layers of fabric are still between me and what else I want to get my mouth on, but he likes what I’m currently doing too much for me to race ahead.
He must do—Dair squirms, humping into my hand, and lets out little sounds that do it for me in ways I don’t have words for.
His fingers find my hair again, slip-sliding and tugging.
My poor, poor dick. I make it wait, too intent on earning more of those noises, but I do at least win one battle—that drawstring gives up the fight to keep me out. I shove down his underwear and get my hand on him.
Our kiss breaks, and Dair’s eyes are so dark I can’t tell if he’s hot for this or startled.
I instantly let go, but he shakes his head. “No, no. Keep going. Please.”
That’s how I like my consent—enthusiastic, right down to him giving up a little dampness. A bead of precome glistens in his slit, shining like his eyes, and I rub it with the pad of my thumb, then lick it.
“F-fuck.” Dair’s hold on me tightens, biceps tensing. They’re bigger than I expected, proof his work can get physical, I guess. I land a kiss on one of those neat bulges with no way to predict his reaction.
Dair melts.
I’m not always a slow learner. Give me the right incentive and I never forget a lesson. That melting reaction means I test what caused it—I kiss the twin of that bicep, sucking a little, and Dair looks down at the hand job I’m giving him at the same time.
I stare down too, watching my thick fingers ring his dick, and I need to find more words that mean the same as pretty.
I can’t keep thinking it about each part of him.
He’s more than that. I’ve already found hidden strength and felt more care in the last half hour than I can remember in the last four months.
He’s also smart enough to reach for something slippery to make this even better.
And he’s funny, laughing at himself for almost overbalancing.
I’ve already caught him twice. I won’t let him fall, but I do release my grip on his dick to let him spill bath oil into my palm.
Then we’re going at it again, mouths locked together, my turn to spread slickness.
His cock is rock hard. Slimmer than mine, but if I am one thing, it’s in proportion.
So is he, and I like the way his shaft feels silky hot under my hand and shiny with something that smells sweetly herbal.
I could wank him like this forever, only my dick wants inside him so badly it aches.
I shift to release some pressure, which doesn’t help me but does something for Dair, who rocks down against me, then shoves up into my hand, shuddering.
He does it again, like he’s riding me for real, shoving into my hand harder.
Faster. His arms lock around my neck, his groan so deep I feel as well as hear it, and my belly is wet before I grasp what just happened.
I was just getting this party started.
Now I wonder if it’s over.
Dair releases his death grip on me. Looks down, and when he looks up, I don’t care if that’s it for this evening.
It doesn’t matter that I wanted to blow and rim him before fucking him until he forgets everything bad that’s happened to him.
Dair has stars in his eyes, and I like being the reason for them.
He’s also a touch embarrassed.
“Told you it had been a while.” He gets busy with a facecloth, wiping away streaks of spunk from a belly built by manual labour, and murmurs, “You’re very good with your hands.” He drops the facecloth into the tub to grapple with my belt buckle, only pausing to ask, “Can I?”
Fuck yes, he can.
My phone ringing is a piss-poor way to find out that Flynn does know how to return calls. Dair must see his name floating on the screen.
“Flynn calling.” He slides from my lap. “I’ll let you take it.” He grabs his shirt and then is gone, and I’ve never wanted to answer a call less.