56. Chapter 56 #2
When Colt finally did move, it was a slow, steady rock of his hips, just enough to feel Beau hot and hard inside of him every time he shifted. He pulled Beau into another kiss, opened his mouth against Beau’s lips and let out short, panting sounds as Beau gripped his hip and encouraged his rhythm.
Beau buried his other hand in Colt’s hair and tugged his head back so he could watch him with dark eyes. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling faster as he started rising to meet Colt’s rhythm.
“Beau,” Colt husked, and it came out like a prayer.
“Yeah, boy.” Beau leaned forward to kiss Colt’s throat, dragging his chin against Colt’s Adam’s apple. “You’re doing so good. Beautiful boy.”
Colt’s rhythm faltered, something hot and overwhelming building in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure. He let out a gasping moan and kept working his body. Slower now. Deeper.
Then Beau gripped his waist, and in one smooth motion he flipped them.
Colt’s back hit the mattress with a soft thump, and Beau settled between his legs, slipped back inside and hooked one of Colt’s knees with his arm so he could spread him further.
“Let me,” Beau murmured against Colt’s lips as he pushed them higher onto the bed.
Not trusting his own voice, Colt nodded, and Beau started to move.
It was slow. So fucking slow that Colt wanted to dig his heels into Beau’s ass and demand more, faster, harder. But he didn’t. He let Beau set the pace, and Beau pulled almost all the way out before pressing back in with a roll of his hips that made Colt see stars.
Sweat beaded on Beau’s forehead and dripped, the room warm, thick with humidity. They were slick enough that Beau’s stomach slid against his.
“Fuck,” Colt gasped as Beau angled himself and hit that spot inside him again, as his whole body lit up. “Beau. Beau.”
“I know.” Beau pressed his mouth to Colt’s jaw, his throat, the hollow beneath his ear. “I’ve got you.”
He let go of Colt’s thigh, and Colt kept it hiked, wrapped it firmly around Beau’s side as Beau grabbed Colt’s wrist and moved his hand up above Colt’s head.
Lips pressed against his, Colt shifted until their fingers were laced, and Colt felt like he was being taken apart one molecule at a time.
Every thrust pushed air from his lungs right into Beau’s mouth, every drag of Beau inside him made his nerves sing.
Beau’s breathing was ragged now, and he was making soft, deep grunting noises. But he kept going at that same deliberate, devastating pace, pressing his forehead against Colt’s.
“Beau,” Colt moaned again, his back arching. “I’m gonna—”
“Yeah.” Beau reached between them and wrapped his hand around Colt’s cock—slick with sweat and precum—and stroked him in time with his thrusts. Smooth and firm and slow. “Come on, Colt. Let go for me.”
Colt’s orgasm crested over him with a broken moan as he spilled over Beau’s fist and his own stomach.
His whole body clenched and shuddered, and Beau groaned against his neck.
He hooked his arm back under Colt’s knee, his hips stuttering as he lost all rhythm and followed after, pulsing deep inside and filling him up.
They lay together, Beau pressing shaky kisses against Colt’s throat. Colt loved the weight of Beau’s body on top of him, warm and heavy and grounding. He carded his fingers through Beau’s hair and closed his eyes.
Eventually, Beau moved. He lifted onto his elbows and kissed Colt’s cheek and pulled out, laughing softly as Colt made a sound of protest and tried to make his weak legs cooperate and keep him where he was.
“I’m gonna crush you to death if I stay here.” Beau gently lowered Colt’s legs to the bed and sat back. “Lemme get you clean.”
“What a way to go.” Colt yawned and dropped his arm over his eyes. “I’d be alright with that.”
Beau squeezed Colt’s thigh and got up, his footsteps disappearing into the bathroom.
The tap ran for a few seconds, and then Beau came back.
The bed dipped as a warm washcloth slid up Colt’s inner thigh.
Methodically, almost, Beau cleaned Colt’s body of lube and cum with steady swipes of that scratchy hotel washcloth.
When Colt peeked from under his arm, Beau was watching what he was doing the same way he looked at a car when he was checking the detail work.
The washcloth got tossed into the trashcan, and Beau got off the bed again. Colt tried to hook him with his ankle and missed. “Where are you going? Get back here.”
“Demanding brat.” There was so much affection and softness in Beau’s tone that it made Colt’s ears heat as Beau picked up Colt’s bag and set it on the little desk next to the window. “Hold on.”
Beau returned with two of his own shirts and a pair of bright purple boxers, raising an eyebrow at Colt, who grinned at him. “What? I told you I stole your shirts.”
“You got three of my shirts in your bag,” Beau murmured as he took Colt’s wrist and pulled him into a sitting position. “Got any of your own clothes in there?”
“Of course I do.” Shifting where Beau wanted him, Colt let himself be dressed in Beau’s Pantera shirt and the underwear. “See? My own undies, right here.”
The other shirt Colt had stolen went over Beau’s head, a soft, old tee from a Sum 41 concert. Colt settled into the bed and pulled the covers up as Beau dug his own underwear out of his pants and put them on with the shirt. Beau let out a massive yawn and rubbed his eyes with his palms.
“Come to bed.” Colt patted the mattress next to him. “You look like you’re one second from death.”
Beau rolled his eyes. “Flattering.”
He got into the bed, and Colt plastered himself against his side before he’d even pulled the covers up. Despite the stickiness in the air, the lingering heat the air conditioner was having trouble keeping up with, Colt dissolved into Beau’s warmth, rubbing his face into his skin.
“Thank you,” he said against Beau’s chest. “For today. You saved me, you know.”
Yawning again, Beau squeezed Colt against him. “You did the drivin’. Jus’ gave ya the chance.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Colt asked.
Beau’s breathing was already evening out. “Not a wink.”
The arm around him loosened, and Beau was out.
Colt lay there listening to him sleep, thinking about the day, about how it had felt to take a rideshare to the Liberty complex that morning feeling more alone than he’d felt in months and see Beau standing there already.
How he’d been one second from throwing down with Marcus fucking Hoyt for Colt.
Hadn’t slept for one second, apparently, had spent all night building Colt’s case and then taken over and given Colt goddamn wings.
Colt lifted himself onto his elbow and watched Beau sleep. Traced the peppering of gray in his dark hair, the patch on his jaw that was going silver too, down his chest, his stomach, the scarred leg that was still out of the covers—Colt had felt every inch of it with his tongue.
Beau. Who believed in Colt even when he was done believing in himself, who Colt had hurt in a way Colt hadn’t known he was capable of last night. Who had fought for him anyway.
Squeezing his eyes shut against the sting of tears, Colt took a breath.
Fuck.
He settled back down in bed and pressed his face into Beau’s skin as his heart hammered so hard he felt it in his ears.
I fucking love him.