Chapter 11 #2
There. An answer in his own way.
Neither of them paid much attention to the panels after that, and Connor only had one thing to say to Nate once the day’s panels had completed, once Alarie Inc. personnel began to make their plans to depart rather than stay an extra night in their hotels on the company’s dime.
But Connor had paid for an extra night; he didn’t get out to San Diego often, so why not take advantage of the opportunity?
And the room.
“Marriott. 402.”
He knew Nate understood, an almost coy smile at his lips.
Connor went to his room first, paced back and forth for a moment, before deciding he might as well tidy up. First, he put the room back together as best he could, making the bed and slipping his suitcase into the wardrobe. He even changed out of his suit into something a little more casual.
Just a sweater, just denim jeans.
“I have to say, I never imagined you wearing much else than a suit.” That was what Nate said when he showed up about an hour later, Connor hurrying him inside with a hand at his elbow.
“You spend much time imagining me?” Connor asked, arching an eyebrow at him. Nate only grinned back.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Truthfully, Connor couldn’t say he did much, but that hardly mattered now.
The rest happened as it always did for Connor, maybe as it always did for Nate, too. A look, a smirk, an invitation of, “So what are you waiting for?” that was answered near instantaneously by Nate catching his hand, pulling him close.
And maybe that should have been wrong. Too gentle for what this was. But hell, maybe Connor liked gentle. Maybe he needed it, the way Nate cupped his jaw, swiping a thumb down his chin between his hands, taking the lead in a fluid, languid kiss that Connor was too happy to follow.
Back and forth, push and pull between them, parted lips and tentative tongues, mindful requests into one another’s space. This wasn’t like their encounter the night before, breathless and rushed.
Any other time, this would have been too slow for Connor’s pace. He couldn’t bring himself to mind that now.
I ought to savor you, he thought to himself, palms flat against Nate’s shoulders, fingers ghosting over the cotton of his shirt.
Maybe Nate had the same idea, those lips finding his chin, his jaw, the crook of his throat, teeth scraping over his Adam's apple and sending gooseflesh down Connor’s arms.
His lips parted, perhaps in surprise as he let his head fall to the side, giving Nate better access to kiss his neck, a warm hand flat against his chest. But Connor was never passive, his own hands mapping the expanse between Nate’s jaw, his broad chest, down his stomach to the waistband of his slacks, where his shirt was so neatly tucked in.
“I want to blow you.” Connor breathed, finding his voice again, needing to take back a little control before this spiraled out of hand.
At this rate–well, he didn’t want to think about what might happen, though he held little doubt the possibility would play out in his fantasies for nights to come.
But Nate didn’t leave him hanging, answering in an instant by finding his lips again in a bruising kiss.
“Yeah. Yeah, fuck.” He tried to kiss Connor again, but he pulled back too quickly for that, opening his eyes to take in what stood before him.
Warmth was the sight that greeted him, Nate’s lips flushed and kiss-swollen, curved into a smile that isn’t devilish, isn’t even mischievous, but so unabashedly earnest that it couldn’t be for him.
Not for just a blowjob.
“Yeah, yeah. Let me–what’s better for you, I could sit down, I could–”
“Right here’s fine,” Connor replied, tugging Nate’s shirt out from where it had been so neatly tucked.
The awestruck expression on Nate’s face as he dropped to his knees was almost too much for him. Too warm, too gentle. And that was wrong for what this was, for what he was.
He dropped his gaze to what was right before him. Even through his slacks, Connor could tell Nate was already hard, nose tracing the tell-tale outline of his cock. It didn't take much more than kissing to get him there, did it?
Or maybe he just likes kissing me that much, an almost too hopeful voice whispers in the back of his head. Connor ignores it, focusing on what he’s doing with his hands, undoing Nate’s belt, the top two buttons of his slacks.
“Are you even real?”
Connor swore Nate whispered that somewhere above him, but he wasn’t going to look up at him to confirm.
Instead, he was shifting on his knees, finding a more comfortable position as he tugged down Nate’s slacks, the black Calvin Kleins he wore, revealing that same attractive flush of dark pubic hair he’d seen the night before.
Not much, not nearly as hair as some of the men Connor had been with.
But enough. Enough he’d be able to bury his nose right in those wiry curls.
But Connor was more interested in tracing down the length of Nate’s cock with his lips, taking perverse pleasure in the way he twitched against his mouth, the way Nate’s so gently brushed his fingers through his hair.
“Do you want a cushion?” Nate offered.
“Hm?” It was a sound Connor made, muffled against Nate’s skin, dragging his tongue across the spot where his cock met his body.
He felt his own erection straining against the constricting fabric of his own slacks, but he didn’t touch himself, his hands and mouth too full of Nate.
“A cushion- Jesus, Connor. Like from the couch or the bed. That can’t be easy on your knees.” Nate’s fingers curled in his hair. Tender. Like a lover.
Which they weren’t. They weren’t lovers.
But it was hard to tell himself that with any kind of authority when he was on his knees, Nate’s cock in his hand, his lips and tongue greedy on his length.
“‘s fine,” Connor answered. He hardly felt the floor beneath him, not with Nate’s cock in his hand, bittersalt taste of him on his lips.
It was amazing he was even heard against Nate’s skin, tongue dragging down the length of him to the delicate, darkly flushed frenulum. Connor hadn’t had much chance to look at him so closely the night before, but he marvelled at his girth.
He’d always liked giving head. All the more with a guy as responsive as Nate. Connor swallowed him down to the mid-shaft, stroking him into his mouth while his other hand gripped the fabric of Nate’s slacks, holding him close, keeping him from going anywhere.
All mine, he thought languidly, licking a long streak up the length of his cock, stroking him twice before swallowing him back down.
Nate’s thigh trembled beneath his fist and he shuddered, both hands coming to the side of his head.
“Okay. Okay, hold on. Hold on, I need a second-”
“What’s wrong?” Connor asked, immediately stopping.
“What’s–holy shit, Connor. That’s too much. Too good,” Nate answered, a breathless laugh on his lips. There was something too tender in his eyes as he looked down at Connor, long fingers brushing back his hair. “Like you said last night. Want this to last.”
And Nate caught his hand and tugged Connor to his feet, kissing him before he could think too long about how that admission had his insides squirming. God help him, he was weak for this man, and Connor was only human after all.
It seemed natural that they’d find their way into bed together after that–how could they not when Nate had been so successful in worming his way past every one of Connor’s so carefully-structured defenses?
Two bodies aflame and entangled, arms wrapped around thighs, legs pushed back while Nate swallowed him down. Connor could only surrender himself up entirely, holding back nothing until he was spent, gasping as he rode out his orgasm against that perfect mouth.
But he recovered quickly, quick to reverse their positions.
A firm hand pushed Nate back down into the mattress as he finished the job he started right in front of that door.
And this time, Nate didn’t pull him off, Nate only curled his fingers through his hair with a tender touch while Connor took him right to his peak.
No man had ever tasted as sweet, or looked more like a god from Connor’s point of view now. He rested his chin against the curve of Nate’s thigh, watching the rise and fall of his chest as though under some forbidden spell. And maybe he was, for all that Nate charmed him.
Nate pulled Connor up beside him and they lay together in the aftermath, but it was too close.
Too tender. Nate’s arm around his middle, hot breath against the back of his neck.
Still in his fantasy, perhaps. Reality came in like a lead weight in his chest as Connor found himself eyeing the white of Nate’s shirt crumpled near his slacks.
How unfortunate that reality and the weight of Connor’s own nerves always won out when he’d rather lay in delusion, let himself think that this was something that could be his. He closed his eyes and decided, for now, that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to just pretend.
The bed was still made beneath them, though the bedspread was wrinkled, soiled with come and sweat. Not like it hadn’t seen worse.
Beside him, he could feel Nate tense up–no doubt picking up on some aspect of Connor’s body language he hadn’t managed to entirely mask.
Connor sighed and closed his eyes, all too aware of the weight of Nate’s arm around him.
His fingers twitched against his skin, like Nate himself was unsure if he was wanted.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Connor managed after a long moment, like it needed to be said. Like maybe Nate wouldn’t believe him, if he didn’t.
“Oh. I–I didn’t think you were. It's your room,” Nate replied, seeming to grow self-conscious. “Would you–do you want me to go?”
“Not unless you want to.” Connor was trying to sound as casual as he could. He didn’t know himself if he wanted Nate to leave–but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he stayed.
“Okay.” His fingertips ghosted Connor’s skin. “Then, I won’t go.”
“Okay.”
And neither of them said anything for a while longer.