Chapter 20
Barcelona
Hayes
“I want to dance the bolero with you.”
I let the words roll out of my mouth, slowly grazing my upper lip with my tongue on the L.
Despite the promises we’ve made, we’ve been flirting all night.
Brady is as guilty as I am. He’s fully aware that the way he runs his hands through his curly bangs makes me crazy.
And Brady, I know it’s hot tonight but opening the third button on your shirt to show off your perfectly smooth, golden skin is not weather related.
I grab my wine for a sip of confidence and can smell the deep raspberry jam in it before the rim of the glass touches my mouth. Every sense I have is on fire.
I get up from the table and extend my hand.
Brady looks toward the dance floor and then back at me.
“Hayes, you don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, lowering his chin so he can look up at me with those impossibly pretty hazel eyes.
I pretend I don’t hear him and keep my gaze locked on his.
I think about how Manu looked at Esmereldo and how he used his eyes during the dance demonstration to seduce his partner.
I can feel the red wine buzzing in my brain, and it helps me take a few steps outside my fiercely protected comfort zone.
Since Brady is being the pragmatic one for a change, why shouldn’t I be the playful one?
I put both hands on the tiled tabletop and lean in toward Brady.
“I want. To dance. The bolero. With you.” I lower my voice and make it all gravel and force.
This seduction can’t come as a surprise to him.
The looks that lingered a bit too long over tapas, the way we brushed against each other on the beach.
Maybe he’s been doing this just for the camera tonight, or maybe there’s still something between us.
I don’t know. But I do know I want to hold Brady in my arms right now and let us feel the music together through our bodies.
“Brady, will you dance with me?” I ask softly, but without any seductive artifice. I’m asking him to let me take him in my arms and dance under the stars and the strings of lights that line the stone courtyard.
“Okay,” he says slowly, as if he’s falling under a trance.
He places his hand in mine, and I hold it carefully.
I let the sensation of folding my fingers over his settle so I can remember the feeling when I’m pulling an all-nighter next year in med school.
I file it under Incredible Moments with Brady so I don’t ever lose it and then guide him from the table to an open spot on the dance floor.
There are other couples and small groups of dancers from our lesson around us, but they quickly fade once I have Brady standing in front of me. The music begins again, and he whispers, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I answer him with a grin I cannot control.
I close my eyes for a second. At first I feel the red wine, but that opens the door to the music.
It enters my body, the strumming of the guitars, the yearning of the violin.
I think about the physicality of the musicians moving their hands across their instruments, a mixture of tender caress and forceful thrusting.
I open my eyes, ready to be present with Brady.
I put my hands on his hips and draw him closer to me.
He moves his arms, first feeling the side of my torso and then onto my shoulders, but there’s still distance between our bodies, so I let the dancing help us close it.
My torso sways and my feet lead us across the floor, and as the music becomes more passionate, our bodies find their way toward each other.
The pulsing rhythm pushes me forward and my nipples brush across his chest. I can feel the sweat from his body on mine and still smell the sand from Mar Bella on his neck.
Manu and Esmereldo move around the dance floor, observing and encouraging all the student dancers. Sometimes, Manu demonstrates a move, or Esmereldo gives a gentle correction, but when they come to us, Esmereldo turns to Manu and only says: “Tortolitos.”
I’m not sure what it means, but maybe Brady does because after they move past us, he drops his head on my shoulder.
I’m at least half a foot taller than he is, if not more, and I’ve always liked how the size difference made it easy for him to rest on me in various positions.
I remember this feeling. Feeling like I was able to take care of someone.
Feeling like what I did mattered to someone else’s sense of wholeness.
We glide around the dance floor but aren’t trying to remember the steps or mimic what we saw in the demo.
Instead, we’re letting the strumming of the guitar on the stage, the flavor of the wine still inside our mouths and the amber glow from the lanterns on the table create a world made just for us.
I hold him tightly so I can figure out if he is feeling what I am.
It doesn’t take much to feel his hardness on me.
I adjust to let him know I’m feeling the same way.
I softly push myself toward him, and as soon as I do, he turns his face toward me, and I see his gentle smile and his tongue slip across his sweet lips.
I know I should stop right there. This won’t work.
I should be logical. Think about the next five years – medical school, a residency, my own practice.
But the next five minutes are as far as my mind can get – Brady’s blond curls, Brady’s sweet smile, Brady’s ass. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask, making sure my voice is even deeper than usual.
I know exactly how to make it circle around his ear and vibrate across his body.
I feel him shiver in my arms and it’s too warm to think it’s anything other than the way my words entered him.
Brady opens his eyes slowly, looks up and nods.
Within seconds, we thank our dance instructors and get in a car to return to the hotel.
The vibe in the lobby has shifted from the energetic afternoon cocktail party to something more intense and intimate.
The arrivals hall of the former train station feels different than it did in the afternoon sunlight.
Upright spotlights have replaced the sunshine and they turn the tiles into an abstract maze of shadows.
Same-sex couples are scattered about the plush velvet-covered benches sipping cocktails that glow with color.
Here, being gay feels like the most natural thing in the world, and I like it.
But not enough to linger a second longer in the lobby than we need to.
We get to the elevator and wait in silence.
I can barely contain my heart inside my body. Is this really happening?
The bell for the elevator sounds like the starting gun for a race, making my heart beat even harder.
As soon as we are a few stories up, I reach past Brady and flick the switch to make the elevator stop.
He snaps his head toward me, and I recognize a combination of shock and excitement.
The Hayes he knew in college would never do something so naughty.
What about the guests waiting to go to their rooms?
But we are finally alone, and I can’t delay what needs to happen a second longer.
I’m horny and hungry for Brady. No one has this effect on me the way Brady does.
He knows I spend most of my life being a good boy, following the rules, and he knows exactly how to get me to throw that all away.
I move my tongue across my lips as a warning.
Both hands move up to his cheeks so I can hold his face in them.
His skin is softer than the robe I wore in London.
The opposite of my rough stubble. “Brady, I need you,” is all I say, and then my lips touch his and I feel his heart pounding against mine, connected to mine.
It’s a quiet kiss with our mouths closed.
I’m saving everything I have for the main event, but I want him to know that I can still be gentle when it’s called for because he might need a reminder after I’m done with him tonight.
I let my lips glide over his with just an enough wetness so that they effortlessly move together, finishing the dance we started a short while ago.
My tongue touches his but I pull it back.
I don’t let it cross over into his mouth.
Not yet. I’ve waited so long for this again.
I want to show him I’m a more mature lover than I was in college, although I’m not sure I have the willpower to hold anything back.
I grab the top of his pants and he opens the button, all the invitation I need to put my hand down the front and push past the underwear of his waistband to put his dick in my hand.
I wrap my finger around his thick pulsing cock and he pushes his head back with a moan and his curls fall across his face.
“Wait,” Brady says, and I immediately stop. I only want this if he wants this. “In the elevator? Are you sure you want to…” He takes a second to catch his breath, inhaling and then exhaling. I can feel the heat on my neck.
I say nothing. I nod up and down in slow motion, ensuring my eyes are locked on his and my fingers are massaging his dick. I want him as badly as I ever have. “I want you,” I say, waiting for his response.
“I want you too,” he says.
Brady releases the elevator, and the car’s thrust pushes my hand off his dick and my arms around his waist. The elevator opens, and I turn him around so his back is toward me, and my groin is precisely where I want it against him.
I keep my arms around him and my hands on his belt loops.
We walk him toward the room with his pants still open.
I push myself against him so he can feel how into it I am.
I don’t care who can see us, and it’s not like this place is family friendly.
I get him into the room, and when we’re in front of the bed, he turns around to face me.
“Are you ready?” I ask. He nods. Then, with one quick tug, I pull his pants down to his ankles.
Finally, I’m on my knees and right in front of my face is Brady’s dick.
It’s perfect. Compact but full of personality.
Just like him. Over the past year, I’ve seen it in my mind a thousand times, the vein that goes down the shaft, the tiny brown beauty mark that’s on the head.
I grab it in my hand and look up at him and hold the connection for as long as I can so he knows how much I want him.
But I can’t keep my mouth off him any longer.
My eyes shut so I can focus on the sensation.
I open my mouth and swallow him. Feeling him inside me again reminds me of how connected we once were and how connected we are again tonight.
My mouth covers the head of his dick and I let my tongue tease the slit since I know the urethra contains a plethora of nerve endings. Being pre-med has its advantages.
I wrap my arms around the top of his thighs and pull him into me. I bury my nose in his groin so I can smell him – sweat, musk, ocean, one of his fancy colognes.
Then I hear the sound I’ve been aching to hear again.
Brady lets out one of his low, throaty moans that ends with the slightest uptick in pitch.
“Arrghh… uuuuh… uhm… yes.” I know he’s into this as much as I am.
I work extra hard to hear that sound again covering his dick with my mouth making sure every inch of it is feels my tongue and lips across it.He lets out another series of moans punctuated with words I want to hear.
Yes. Hayes. More. I let my mouth continue working solo and take my hands off his dick, proud of the effect my wet tongue can have on him.
His back buckles and I reach my hand behind him and find the spot that will send him over the edge.
All of this feels familiar and safe but still exciting.
I can feel his dick throbbing between my lips.
I know I just need to increase the pressure to send him over edge.
He moans again and this time it’s more of a signal so I cover his dick with my mouth to make sure I don’t miss it and then with my mouth on him he explodes.
I don’t stop what I’m doing. I keep my mouth on him, taking every bit of him as he releases.
Letting him cover the inside of my mouth and my face.
I know his dick is sensitive after he comes but I can’t help keeping my mouth on him as my hand reaches down to my dick.
I try to jerk myself off without ever taking my mouth of his dick.
But he wiggles free and I’m too out of my mind horny to do anything about it.I know what he wants, and I fucking want to give it to him.
I stand up and pull off my pants from around my ankles.
I want to be able to get as deep in his mouth as possible.
By the time my pants land in the corner of the room, he has his mouth leaning off the side of the bed, open and hungry for me.
I take my fat cock and gently push it past his lips and carefully down his throat.
But he wants more. He gently tugs my balls and pulls my dick deeper into his mouth and then back and forth until I’m pumping at the speed he wants.
My rhythm is a mix of gentle caress and forceful thrusting, the music of the night still inside me.
“Brady… I’m close…” I say, thinking he might slow down, but it has the opposite effect on him.
His hand and mouth are working together now so I have no control over the experience.
I look down at his face and see how beautiful he is but before I can even try to bend over and kiss him, his mouth sucks me harder and…
“Brady. Brady,” I shout as my dick releases.
There is too much for his mouth so it flows over his lips and down his neck.
I put my mouth on him and kiss him as deeply as I ever have. I move my arms toward his. Our fingers touch, and immediately, our hands lock together with fingers entwined, making a tight bond that feels like it can’t be broken. At least not tonight.