13. Brendan
Brendan
Adrian’s breath was hot against my neck.
I could feel the tiny hairs standing on end, teased and curious at this new sensation.
My mind tried to catch up to what the rest of my body already knew.
“What are you doing?” I choked out.
Adrian simply kissed my neck again.
And again.
His back pressed more firmly against mine, pinning me against the counter.
It was only then that I noticed my cock, smushed against the granite, was pulsing.
Only then did I feel Adrian’s cock, already full and stiff, caressing my ass through two layers of shorts.
Adrian’s hands rose from my hips, gliding up my stomach until they stilled on my chest. Strong fingers began massaging my pecs, gently at first, growing firmer with each kiss.
“Adrian—”
My protest died in my throat as one finger and thumb found a nipple and twisted.
“Oh, shit!” My cock twitched, grinding into the countertop as though it thought it could fuck through stone.
Adrian released my now-sensitive nipple, his hands finding my shoulders and turning me to face him. All the while, he continued kissing whatever skin his lips could reach. Once fully turned, his hand reached up and cupped my cheek, pulling my face toward him until our lips joined.
His kiss wasn’t ravenous or devouring as I’d expected.
It was gentle and deep and full of emotions I couldn’t yet name.
I shouldn’t name.
I dare not name.
So I kissed him back, pouring in every ounce of pent-up desire I’d had for this man since the first day I’d seen him dance. My hands rose to grip his sides, feeling the powerful lines of his muscles. The firmness of him drove my own firmness over the edge, and I felt myself leak in my shorts.
“I need you, Brendan,” Adrian whispered as we came up for air. “Please let me have you.”
He brushed the side of my face as though chasing back hair that wasn’t long enough to need such gestures. His hair, on the other hand, was falling across his forehead, so I reached up and tucked it behind his ear. His smile at my tenderness did something deep within me.
“Can I take your shirt off?” he asked.
I blanched at his gentlemanly request for consent, nodding nervously without any assistance from my rebelliously absent voice.
One button.
A second.
He opened my shirt so slowly I thought he might never finish. When the last button popped free, he opened my shirt but didn’t remove it, simply let his eyes roam across my now-exposed skin.
I worked out a lot in my youth, but years of professional schooling followed by a fully dedicated work life left little time for lifting anything other than patients.
I was still lean and somewhat toned, my stomach flat-ish, but I was no athlete.
The man who stood before me had muscles in places my younger self would’ve envied.
A moment of self-doubt and panic washed over me as his eyes drifted from my neck to my chest, then lower.
“Jesus, Brendan,” he said.
“What?” I asked, worried he didn’t like what he was seeing.
“Your body, your hair, it’s beautiful.” His fingers dug into the curls on my chest, teasing and drifting from one side to the other. “I love how thick it is. And yet, it’s still short. How—?”
“I trim. I hope that’s okay?” I smiled weakly.
Adrian’s grin widened as his gaze rose from where his fingers still explored.
“It’s perfect.” He leaned forward and kissed me lightly once—only once—then pulled back. “I could play with this hair all night.”
“Maybe you should,” I said before my brain caught up with my mouth.
What the hell was I thinking? Sure, I liked this guy, but—
Whatever objection my brain was about to register died as Adrian’s lips crashed into mine.
This time, there was more flame than smoke.
His tongue slipped past my teeth. His kisses grew stronger, hungrier, more insistent.
His cock throbbed between us, making mine twitch and leak even more.
He seemed to sense this and ground into me.
I don’t know when he slipped my shirt over my shoulders. All I remember is hearing it hit the floor. A heartbeat later, he stepped back and pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing the dancer’s body I’d already seen—and memorized—several times from a booth across a crowded room.
Still, the richness of his island skin and tautness of his muscles threatened to steal my breath. Seeing it from the corner of a bar while he moved on stage was one thing. Feeling the heat waft off his skin as he stood mere inches from my own bare chest was something else entirely.
I leaned forward, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against mine, but his palms pressed into my chest, fixing me in place. I looked up, a question in my eyes.
“I’m on PrEP. My last test was two months ago, and I’m negative. I mean . . . not that we’re . . .” he stammered, the first sign of a single nerve from him since he’d kissed my neck. “I just want to be open and honest, you know?”
“Thank you, Adrian, but it’s 2026. I’m on PrEP, too.” It was my turn to smile. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to, well, you know. It’s been a while, and that’s a big step. I—”
He stared a moment, as though processing a foreign language he only knew a few words of. “You what?”
My head lowered as I muttered, “I’m not very good at keeping the physical and emotional separate. If we, you know, went there, I think I’d . . . I might . . . it would just really confuse me.”
When I looked up, I found the most caring eyes staring, searching, asking questions to which I had no answers, not yet, at least.
Then he leaned forward and kissed me again, returning to his gentle, almost tentative touch.
“I want to be with you tonight,” he said. “What we do is less important than doing it together. Okay?”
The sincerity in his words stilled my heart. This beautiful man, how could I not want him?
“Okay,” I said. “But this counter is digging into my back. Mind if we move to a more comfortable surface?”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” He had the good grace to look embarrassed as he stepped back, took my hand, and guided me away from the cabinet.
“Don’t be. That counter’s never felt so good.” I chuckled. “But I think the bed will be a lot better.”