Chapter Fourteen
Kip considered removing all of his clothes and just waiting, naked, on Scott’s bed for him.
Then he considered that he was wearing a very expensive suit and looked damn good. And hadn’t Scott said something about wanting to strip him out of it?
Kip grinned into the empty apartment. He kept the lights low and sat on the couch, admiring the view of Brooklyn.
He got an idea.
He synched up his phone to Scott’s Bluetooth stereo and put on a Spotify playlist of romantic jazz standards. He waited.
It was almost half an hour later when he heard the click of the door being opened.
He stood, but didn’t move toward the door. He just stayed in the dimly lit living room with the lights of the city behind him. He would let Scott come to him.
“Kip?” Scott called out in a soft voice.
Kip didn’t reply. He leaned a hip against the side of the tall entertainment unit that housed Scott’s television and crossed his arms as Frank Sinatra sang “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
Scott entered the room. “Kip. Oh my god.” He strode over to him like he was the first glass of water Scott had had in days.
Kip had expected to be thrown against a wall and kissed aggressively.
He had expected to be punished for working Scott up at the gala.
Instead, Scott placed a gentle hand on Kip’s face and just seemed to take him in for a moment.
There was an urgency in Scott’s eyes, but when he finally leaned in and kissed Kip, it was slow and deliberate.
It wasn’t a conversation; it was Scott telling him something important, and making sure Kip was listening.
When their lips parted, Kip felt limp. “Wow,” he breathed.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Scott said. His voice was husky and he was gazing at Kip like he couldn’t believe he was real, his brow furrowed and his face almost pained.
“Hey,” Kip said, and kissed him. He rested a hand against Scott’s chest, over the lapel of his jacket, and let his tongue explore his mouth, unhurried and reverent.
They kissed for a long time that way, with Kip pressed against the entertainment unit, never escalating. Etta James started singing “At Last.”
“You wanna dance?” he asked.
“A little on the nose, don’t you think?” Scott asked, nodding at the stereo.
Kip smiled. “Come on, show me what Elena taught you.”
Scott shook his head, but took Kip’s hand, and led him to the middle of the room.
He placed his other hand on Kip’s lower back, and Kip grinned and let Scott lead.
He wrapped his free arm around him, sliding his hand up his spine and landing his fingers in the short hairs at the top of Scott’s neck.
Scott was an awkward dancer, but Kip didn’t care. He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder and sighed happily.
“Wish I coulda danced with you there,” Scott said.
“S’okay.”
“It’s not. I wanted to show you off. The most gorgeous man in the room was with me and I couldn’t even tell anyone.”
Kip smiled. “Didn’t think you were one to brag.”
“I’m not. I just…”
“I’d like to go out on dates with you.”
Scott swallowed. “Where would you take me?”
Kip considered it. “A club,” he said finally. “We would just lose ourselves in the music. I’d love to see it, you letting go like that. In public. Getting each other all worked up and then going home.”
“God,” Scott said. “I’d like that. I’ve never been to a gay club. Not in New York, anyway.”
“I know a few good ones. Someday, maybe.”
“Someday.”
They danced, and Kip let himself drift. He drank in the romance of the moment, of being wrapped up in Scott, the luxurious fabric of his tuxedo under his hands.
Of the light scent of whatever grooming products he’d used.
Of the lights of the city all around them as they pressed as close as they could against each other, while their heads swam with imagined scenarios of being together outside the safe walls of this apartment.
They danced, and Kip turned his head so he could scrape kisses along Scott’s sharp jawline. Keeping his mouth busy prevented him from blurting out declarations that were embarrassingly premature.
Scott’s fingers tapped lightly on Kip’s lower back, and Kip wondered if Scott felt like he did: too full of feeling. Full of words he couldn’t quite imagine saying out loud. His own fingers were trembling a bit, so he curled them into Scott’s hair.
Scott said, “I want to go everywhere with you.”
And Kip could hear the sadness in the way Scott said it. He could hear the unspoken But I can’t. But Kip would ignore it. Tonight, he would ignore it.
* * *
Scott was overwhelmed.
Somehow, dancing fully clothed in his living room was the most romantic experience of his life. He loved having Kip in his arms, in his home, wearing his suit. His senses were full of Kip.
When the song ended, Scott stepped back because he needed to look at him. He had to make sure that this wonderful man was really here. That he was actually his boyfriend.
Kip smiled shyly at him, and Scott was momentarily paralyzed.
“What is it?” Kip asked, barely above a whisper.
Scott shook his head. “Sometimes I—” He exhaled, trying to slow the pounding of his heart. “I can’t believe you’re real.”
As soon as the words were out, he blushed. What a stupid thing to say!
But Kip just laughed and put a hand on Scott’s chest, over his racing heart, and said, “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up.”
Scott’s throat tightened, and his heart beat impossibly faster. He tilted Kip’s head up with a gentle finger and kissed him. It was just a soft brush of his lips against Kip’s, but it sent a shudder through him.
What is wrong with me? He felt overloaded, like his body was hosting something huge and wild, and it was slamming against his ribs, desperate to get out.
He tangled a hand in Kip’s hair, and curved the other around his hip.
Kip grabbed onto his lapels, pulling him closer and opening his mouth to kiss him properly.
The wet heat of Kip’s mouth, and the urgent press of his body against Scott’s, brought him back down to earth.
This was real. Kip was real. And Scott needed to get him out of that suit.
After being thoroughly kissed within an inch of his life, Scott reached for the button on Kip’s jacket. He undid it and slid his hands up under the shoulders to slip the jacket down and off, letting it pool on the floor behind him.
“Almost hate to do this,” he said in a low voice. “You look so good. But my plans for the rest of the evening don’t include clothes.”
Kip gave him one of those devastating smiles, and Scott pulled apart his bow tie.
The ends unfurled and hung down Kip’s front.
Scott tugged on them lightly before undoing the top button on his shirt.
He undid two more, letting the collar hang open, exposing Kip’s neck and the top of his undershirt.
His fingertips ghosted over Kip’s throat, brushing over his Adam’s apple and making him suck in a breath.
Nina Simone sang “I Put a Spell on You.”
Scott unbuttoned Kip’s shirt the rest of the way and let it hang open.
Kip’s chest rose and fell, and he stared hungrily at Scott but said nothing.
Scott took his left hand and pulled his arm straight out in front of him.
He unfastened the cuff link and brought Kip’s wrist to his mouth, kissing the sensitive skin and feeling Kip’s pulse race in the veins just beneath.
He did the same with the other wrist, then tucked the two cuff links into Kip’s pocket. That made Kip smile.
Scott considered him for a moment.
“Take off your shoes,” he said. “And your socks.”
Scott stepped back as Kip followed his instructions. It was so easy to shift into this authoritative role, to cover his nerves with a firm, cool tone. And, god, the way Kip obeyed him so willingly. It made Scott’s head swim.
When Kip was done, he stood up, barefoot with his pants still fastened, his dress shirt open to reveal his white undershirt. Scott’s own tuxedo was completely intact, and Scott loved the imbalance of that.
The slim cut of Kip’s pants was unable to conceal the bulge that had formed as Scott undressed him. Scott ignored it. For now. Instead, he slid the dress shirt onto the floor, letting it join the jacket.
He ran his hands down Kip’s sides, slipping his fingers inside the waistband of his pants just enough to pull the hem of the undershirt out. He pushed it up, slowly, sliding his palms over the soft skin of Kip’s stomach. Kip stretched his arms up so Scott could pull the shirt off over his head.
When the shirt was off, Scott trapped Kip’s wrists together with one hand, keeping his arms extended over his head. Kip’s eyes fluttered closed, and Scott crushed their mouths together. He kissed him messily, their mouths sliding against each other until he released Kip’s wrists and stepped back.
Kip’s breathing was heavy, and his eyes were dark. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to break the deliciously tense silence that they had created. Instead, he bit his bottom lip and waited.
Scott smiled to himself as he walked around Kip until he stood at his back.
He kicked the discarded clothing that had gathered there aside and kissed Kip’s neck.
Kip moaned and tilted his head to rest on Scott’s shoulder.
He reached back to hook his arm around Scott’s neck, and Scott wrapped an arm possessively around his chest. With his free hand, Kip grabbed onto it, pressing it into himself.
“Kip…” Scott breathed against his skin, ending the silence. He couldn’t help himself. He felt drunk.
He pressed his crotch into Kip’s ass so he could feel how turned on Scott was right now.
“Fuck. Please,” Kip gasped.
Kip grabbed Scott’s hand and moved it to his crotch, and Scott moaned, loving how eager Kip was.
“Don’t worry,” he breathed into Kip’s ear. “I’m going to give you everything you want.”