Chapter 7 #5
He bobbed back down, taking Hayes as deep as he dared. Beckett had gotten pretty good at giving head. He enjoyed it far more than his ego would admit. Still—he wouldn’t want to take a chance on possibly gagging with three sleeping children upstairs.
“Fuck, Beck,” Hayes said in a bitten-out whisper as his hips lifted again.
It was a warning, Beckett knew. He smiled around Hayes’ cock, and he doubled down on his efforts, speeding up and hollowing out his cheeks as he applied more suction.
Meanwhile, the hand not wrapped around Hayes’ cock reached for Hayes’s hand to place it on the back of Beckett’s head.
Hayes dug his fingers into Beckett’s hair instantly, tugging to the point of pain.
Beckett gave Hayes’ hand one last squeeze before letting go.
The message was crystal clear: “Fuck my face!”
Hayes was more than happy to comply with Beckett’s silent command, moaning as he pushed his head downwards.
His cock hit the back of Beckett’s throat and he swallowed around the large cock.
He didn’t keep him there, though. He tugged on Beckett’s hair to guide him up and down again in a punitive rhythm that made Beckett’s mind swim.
Hayes muttered epithets under his breath.
“Fuck, I’m going to—” he warned when Beckett’s right hand squeezed Hayes’ cock twice as he allowed his bottom teeth to catch the head of Hayes’ dick before swallowing him all the way down.
Hayes came down Beckett’s throat, and he swallowed every drop, pulling a muttered curse from Hayes as his spent cock twitched, rapidly becoming oversensitive.
Beckett pulled off him with a satisfied pop, before he looked up at Hayes from under his eyelashes.
He was all too pleased with himself, and he wanted Hayes to see that as he offered him his best Cheshire smile.
Hayes, breathing heavily, leaned back against the couch, shaking his head in mild disbelief.
Beckett chuckled and unhurriedly re-positioned Hayes’ spent cock back in his pants.
He allowed himself a few kisses along the strip of pale skin showing at the bottom of Hayes’ shirt before he unfolded himself from his position on the floor—old knees protesting the movement.
Hayes caught him on his way up, stalling his progress by cupping his jaw and kissing him.
Beckett chuckled against his lips. There was no denying the loved-up expression on Hayes’ face.
He was soft and pliant with it. Beckett dropped down on the couch next to him.
“Guess we’re keeping our jobs for now,” he said, slightly boastful. He ought to be ashamed, really. He’d have been mortified if he’d gotten caught by Gill’s children. He was a pretty good liar, but even he wouldn’t have known how to navigate that specific shit show.
“Good thing—he didn’t seem in a mood to handle any of our chaos,” Hayes said, with a throaty laugh.
“Did you see how fucking panicked Gill was? You’d think he was facing the death penalty,” Beckett chuckled.
He was hard as hell from getting on his knees for Hayes but wasn’t expecting to get off.
Hayes eyed him with naked desire as Beckett adjusted himself, but Beckett shook his head and winked playfully.
Hayes wouldn’t want to chance it and Beckett didn’t blame him.
“That expression was hard to miss,” Hayes agreed with a smile. Their kissing had smeared the lipstick he’d been wearing and Becket leaned forward to wipe it off with his thumb.
“I don’t think red is really your color,” Beckett said, with his best shit-eating grin. The one Hayes secretly loved.
“Fuck off!” Hayes laughed, pushing Beckett away from him.
He fell back against the couch dramatically with a loud huff.
“You should probably go wash off all that makeup,” Beckett advised helpfully, unable to suppress his snicker.
“Probably,” Hayes agreed, although he’d stretched out on the couch and looked as if he was in no particular hurry to get up. He grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch where Jameson had left it and un-paused the movie on the TV.
“Shrek?” Beckett asked, one eyebrow raised challengingly.
“Shut up.” Hayes scooted farther back against the arm rest and made space for Beckett next to him in clear invitation for snuggle time.
Beckett snorted with amusement, but stretched out next to him, his head pillowed against Hayes’ chest. The perfect way to watch movies in his estimation.
“We’re pretty good at babysitting,” Beckett observed, realising it was 9:00 sharp and all three kids were already tucked in for the night.
“You carried one of them like a sack of potatoes,” Hayes said with a snort.
“Act like a spud, get treated like one,” he answered, like it was a widely-used expression and not just some kind of totally improvised nonsense.
“You blew me on the couch,” Hayes said with a pleased smirk.
“That was definitely something the girls from The Baby-Sitters Club did—it just wasn’t in the books,” he declared with a snort.
Hayes shook his head but wrapped an arm around Beckett and hugged him.
Beckett snuggled in close, pleased beyond words as he sank into his boyfriend’s warm embrace and the scent of his citrusy aftershave filled his nose. Home, he thought. This was home.