Chapter Fourteen #2
Tom reached out blindly and pulled him into a kiss. “Yeah,” he said against Bryce’s mouth. “More than okay.”
Bryce grinned. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
brYCE
Tom was loose-limbed beneath him, skin flushed, chest rising and falling unevenly. Sweat was damp at his temples, and when Bryce kissed the corner of his mouth, Tom turned into it with a soft, contented sound.
“Still with me?” Bryce murmured.
“Mmm.” Tom’s hand came up, found the back of Bryce’s neck, pulled him into another kiss. Slow this time. Deep. Still tasting of heat, but now threaded through with tenderness.
Bryce shifted his weight carefully, settling against Tom’s side.
He was still hard—aching with it—but he didn’t want to rush this.
Tom was boneless and hazy-eyed, his cock soft against his thigh, but the way he curled into Bryce said he wasn’t done.
Just not interested in rushing too fast to the next peak.
“Tell me what you want,” Bryce asked softly, his lips moving against the shell of Tom’s ear, his stubble catching on Tom’s skin.
Tom shivered, pressed closer. “Want you,” he said, hoarse now. “Want you to fuck me.”
It landed in Bryce’s gut like a punch. He breathed in sharply and nuzzled behind Tom’s ear. “Yeah?” he asked, just to be sure. “Even if you’re not gonna come again?”
Tom huffed a breath, low and half-laughing. “I’m good,” he said. “More than good. Just want to feel you.”
Bryce kissed the side of his neck, slow and fond, before reaching over to the drawer.
He pulled out a bottle of lube, pressing a kiss to Tom’s temple as he slicked his fingers.
Tom stretched a little, legs parting in invitation, one arm flung over his head in a lazy sprawl that made Bryce’s breath catch.
He went slow. One slick finger, gently circling, pressing in. Tom groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips down in welcome. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yeah, like that.”
“You’re perfect,” Bryce breathed, kissing the edge of his jaw as he added a second finger. “Feel so fucking good.”
Tom’s muscles fluttered around him, warm and eager. His breath came faster, and the way he gasped when Bryce brushed that spot inside him—fuck, that was hotter than anything.
“Ready?” Bryce asked, kissing his way down Tom’s throat, giving him space to say no, to change his mind.
Tom opened his eyes, pupils blown, mouth soft with trust. “God, yes.”
Bryce withdrew his fingers and slicked himself fast, his hands shaking a little with need. He lined up carefully, nudging the head of his cock against Tom’s hole, and Tom rocked up to meet him, breath stuttering. Bryce paused just long enough for Tom to nod, and then he pushed in, slow and steady.
Tom’s mouth fell open, breath catching as Bryce sank deep, inch by inch. Once he was fully seated inside Tom, their bodies flush, Bryce braced himself on one arm, the other hand cradling the side of Tom’s face. “Okay?”
Tom cupped the back of his neck and kissed him again. “So good,” he whispered. “Just move.”
Bryce rocked into him, slow and smooth, groaning into the kiss as Tom’s body took him, clinging like it was made to hold his cock. The rhythm built, lazy and deep, each stroke pulling soft gasps and moans from Tom, his hands tight on Bryce’s back.
It didn’t need to be fast. It didn’t need to be wild. It just needed to be this.
Bryce buried his face in Tom’s neck, breath ragged now, holding him steady as he moved with a rising urgency, a need that refused to be denied.
The rhythm faltered as Bryce pushed harder, hips trembling, body taut. And when he came, with a final thrust that made them both shake, he groaned Tom’s name.
They stayed like that for a long moment, still locked together, the air between them thick with heat and breath.
Eventually Bryce eased out, careful, then rolled to the side and gathered Tom close.
“You good?” he asked, voice gravel-rough.
Tom nodded against his chest. “That was… everything.”
Bryce pressed a kiss to his damp hair. “Yeah,” he said. “It really fucking was.”
* * *
The room was still. The kind of stillness that only came in the hours before dawn, where even the night seemed to be holding its breath.
Bryce stirred faintly, the sheets warm against his skin, the air cooler outside them.
Tom was asleep beside him, one hand curled loosely on Bryce’s chest, his breath soft and even.
Bryce didn’t move. He didn’t want to risk disturbing him.
Tom had melted into him, and they’d slotted together like they’d done this before. Like they’d do it again.
Bryce shifted just enough to tilt his head and look down at him. Tom’s hair was mussed, there was a little scruff on his jaw, and the curve of his mouth was relaxed now in sleep, no tension bracketing it. He looked peaceful.
Something caught in Bryce’s chest. He hadn’t meant for this to feel like anything more. But the way Tom fit against him, like he belonged there, made it hard to lie to himself.
He’d had people stay over before. People he liked, people he trusted. But this felt different. And he didn’t know what to do with that.
Tom shifted slightly, curling closer in his sleep. Bryce adjusted the sheet gently and let his palm rest lightly on Tom’s back, just under his shoulder blade. Skin on skin, a quiet anchoring point.
Tom hadn’t asked to stay. Neither of them had brought it up. But Bryce hadn’t let go of him, and Tom hadn’t tried to leave.
Bryce smiled faintly and closed his eyes again, the weight of Tom’s body beside his settling him more than it should have.
TOM
Something warm and solid pressed along his back.
Tom woke slowly, his mind a fog of heat and scent, the sheets a tangled mess around his waist. The arm draped over his middle was heavy and relaxed. He could feel each slow, even breath at his back, and the weight of it settled something inside him he hadn’t even known was restless. Bryce.
The memory came in pieces. Dusk on the porch. The sound of moths at the window. That first touch. That first kiss. And everything after.
His face heated as he shifted slightly, and the ache in his body made him wince, but not in a bad way. The soreness was proof that last night had been real. Not a fantasy conjured by loneliness and the quiet, steady lure of a man who made him laugh and feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Bryce’s deep, even breaths stirred the hair at the nape of his neck. Still asleep.
Tom stayed where he was, caught in that gentle daze between wakefulness and dreaming, where time didn’t matter and nothing had to be explained.
It had been good. Better than good. Not just the sex—though, God, that had been incredible—but the quiet after. Bryce hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t made excuses or reached for distance. He’d curled close, one hand splayed low across Tom’s stomach, and stayed.
Zack had always rolled away afterward, checking his phone, already halfway back to work mode. Tom had pretended not to notice, not to care. He’d been very good at pretending, once.
But this was different. Tom closed his eyes again, letting himself just feel it for a while—the warmth, the weight, the slow contentment that curled through his limbs.
He hadn’t meant to stay. He should have debriefed Jax last night, run through what he’d noticed about the ranch’s defenses.
But Jax rarely listened to him, Steadman wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon, and there was still time. Not much, but enough.
He couldn’t regret it. Not this.
Eventually, Bryce stirred behind him. He tightened his hold around Tom’s waist, and nosed in behind his ear.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
“Morning,” Tom replied, low and a little hoarse. Bryce’s hard cock nudging against his ass would do that, apparently.
They lay there a few moments more. Then Bryce’s lips brushed the back of his shoulder. “You good?”
Tom smiled, although Bryce couldn’t see it. “Better than good.”
“Mm,” Bryce said, voice still gravel-edged and lazy. “Just checking.” He trailed his fingers lightly down Tom’s chest, slow and seemingly reluctant to stop. “You staying for breakfast?”
Tom’s reply was lost in a gasp as Bryce tweaked his nipple.
“Yeah,” he got out at last, turning over and reaching up to bring Bryce’s head down to his, needing to kiss him. Needing Bryce’s tongue in his mouth, until Tom was helpless and panting with the need for more.
Bryce kissed him slow and deep, like they had all the time in the world. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing lazy lines across Tom’s skin, teasing with promise. Tom arched into it before he could stop himself, need sparking again like dry tinder.
“Still good?” Bryce murmured against his mouth.
Tom didn’t trust himself to speak. He just kissed him harder in answer, fingers curling in Bryce’s hair.
Coffee could wait. So could the councilors. Right now, there was only this—skin, heat, and the slow, delicious build of something he hadn’t let himself want in a long time.