4
They barely made it through the door.
Aaron fumbled the keycard twice, Nash’s mouth hot on the back of his neck, one broad hand splayed across Aaron’s stomach. The lock caught, and they stumbled inside, the door swinging shut behind them.
Nash spun him around, pressed him against the door, kissing him. Aaron grabbed Nash’s shoulders, his shirt, anything, and kissed back with a hunger that surprised them both. Nash’s thigh pushed between Aaron’s legs, and Aaron ground against it, already half-hard and aching.
“Off,“
Aaron muttered against Nash’s mouth, yanking at his shirt. “Get this off.”
Nash stripped it over his head. Aaron’s hands were on him—that broad chest, the coarse hair under his palms. He found a nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Nash hissed, hips jerking.
“Do that again.”
Aaron did it harder, and Nash pulled him into a kiss that was more teeth than tongue. Aaron pinched the other nipple, and Nash groaned into his mouth, so deep and rumbling Aaron felt it in his cock.
“My turn.“
Aaron pulled his own shirt off. He was breathing hard, flushed, five-foot-seven of pure want staring up at a man who dwarfed him.
Nash’s gaze moved over him slowly. Not evaluating. Savoring. He ran one hand down Aaron’s chest, thumb brushing a nipple. Aaron’s breath caught.
“Come here,“
Nash said, voice like gravel.
He walked Aaron backward toward the bed, hands on his hips, mouth on his jaw. Aaron’s legs hit the mattress, and he sat down hard. Nash stood over him, and Aaron’s face was level with his stomach—his soft, furry belly, the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.
Aaron pressed his mouth to Nash’s hip bone. Felt the muscle jump. Ran his tongue along the crease where hip met thigh, tasting salt and skin. Nash’s hand went to Aaron’s hair, his fingers threading through it.
Aaron grasped Nash’s belt and looked up.
Nash was watching him with an expression that startled Aaron—raw, open, desperate in a way that didn’t match the size of him.
“You’re shaking,“
Aaron said.
“Yeah.“
Nash touched Aaron’s face. “You do that to me.”
Aaron unfastened the belt, unzipped—slow, deliberate—holding Nash’s gaze. He pulled everything down and Nash’s cock sprang free—thick, heavy, flushed dark, curving upward. Aaron wrapped his hand around the base and heard Nash’s breath leave him.
He licked a slow stripe up the underside, base to tip. Nash swore softly. Aaron took the head into his mouth, tongue working the slit, and Nash’s hand tightened in his hair.
“Damn—Aaron—“
Aaron took him deeper, one hand working what his mouth couldn’t reach, the other sliding up to cup his balls. Nash’s hips stuttered forward—a fraction, quickly controlled—and Aaron hummed around him, encouraging.
Nash braced his free hand on the wall. His thighs trembled, that massive body strung tight, and Aaron felt powerful in a way he never did outside a courtroom. This big, beautiful man, coming apart because of him.
Aaron pulled back, swirled his tongue around the head, then sank down again. Nash made a low, helpless sound, fingers flexing in Aaron’s hair.
“Aaron.“
Nash’s voice was hoarse. “You need to stop, or this is going to be over way too fast.”
Aaron pulled off inch by inch, letting Nash’s cock drag across his lower lip. He looked up, mouth wet, eyes dark.
Nash stared down at him. “You’re killing me.”
“Get on the bed.”
“That’s my line.”
“I’m stealing it.”
Nash laughed, breathless and half-gone, and Aaron pushed him toward the small mattress. Nash landed, feet hanging off the end.
Aaron stood over him, and Nash’s eyes raked down his body, settling on the obvious bulge against Aaron’s waistband.
“Those need to go.”
Aaron stripped. Nash’s gaze went heavy-lidded, one hand reaching out to grip Aaron’s hip.
“Christ,“
Nash breathed. “Come here.”
Aaron climbed on top, straddling Nash’s hips, and the contact—skin against skin, cock against cock—made them both groan.
Aaron rolled his hips. Nash’s hands came to his thighs, gripping hard enough to leave marks.
“You feel so fucking good,“
Nash said, watching Aaron move on top of him, rapt.
Aaron braced his hands on Nash’s chest and rocked against him. Their cocks slid together, precum slicking the way, friction maddening—almost enough but not quite.
Nash’s hand wrapped around both of them.
“Oh, God—“ Aaron’s head dropped forward. Nash’s hand was enormous, holding both their cocks together, and the pressure was perfect.
“That’s it.“
Nash’s other hand settled on the small of his back. “Let me feel you.”
Aaron moved, fucking into Nash’s fist, his cock sliding against Nash’s with every thrust.
“Nash—“ Aaron’s nails dug into muscle. “Harder.”
Nash tightened his grip, quickened his pace. His thumb swept over both their heads on the upstroke, and Aaron’s vision went white at the edges.
“Look at me,“
Nash said.
Aaron opened his eyes. Nash was right there—hazel eyes blown black, lips parted, tendons standing out in his neck. Flushed red beneath the hair, looking at Aaron like he was everything.
“I want to watch you come,“
Nash said. “Want to see it.”
Aaron was past words. His hips snapped forward, rhythm faltering, pleasure coiling tight at the base of his spine. Nash’s hand never stopped—steady, relentless.
“Come on,“
Nash murmured. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Aaron came with a sound he’d never made before—broken open, helpless—spilling over Nash’s fist, across his belly. His body arched, thighs clamping tight, and he shook with it.
Nash stroked him through it, then his own hips bucked, hand tightening, and he came with a low groan that vibrated through Aaron’s whole body. Aaron felt the hot pulse of Nash’s cock against his own, Nash’s hand slowing, gentle.
Aaron collapsed forward onto Nash’s chest. They were slick with sweat and cum, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. Nash’s arms came around him—heavy, warm, and all-encompassing.
For a long time, neither moved.
Nash pressed his face into Aaron’s hair and chuckled—low, breathless, satisfied.
“What?“
Aaron mumbled against his chest.
“This bed is a war zone.”
Aaron lifted his head. The sheets were half on the floor. The fitted sheet had popped off two corners. His pillow was wedged between the bed and the wall. A spring dug into his knee.
“This bed was a disaster before we got in it,“
Aaron said. “It’s the size of a yoga mat.”
Nash propped himself on one elbow, hair wrecked, beard reddened, cum drying in his chest hair—the most gorgeous thing Aaron had ever seen.
“Come to my cabin tomorrow night,“
Nash said.
“Why? What’s wrong with my closet?”
“Nothing. Except I have a suite on Deck 12 with a king-size bed and a balcony.”
Aaron stared. “You have a suite?”
“Ursine Adventures comped it. Perk of being a featured brewer.”
“You have a suite.“
Aaron sat up—or tried to, Nash’s arm still around him. “We just had sex in a space the size of a coffin, and you have a suite with a king-size bed.”
“To be fair, you led me here—“
“Nash. A king-size bed.”
Nash was laughing now, full-bodied, the bed shaking. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“With what? The balcony?”
“With whatever you want.“
His grin turned wicked. “I also have lube and condoms.”
Aaron dropped his head back onto Nash’s shoulder. “You had lube and condoms. In a suite. With a king-size bed. And we just dry-humped like teenagers in my coffin.”
“Technically, it was very wet—“
“I can’t believe you.”
Nash pulled him close, still laughing, and kissed his temple. “Stay with me tomorrow night. The whole night. Balcony doors open. We can do this properly in a bed where my feet don’t hang off.”
Aaron tilted his head up. Nash’s expression had softened, laughter fading into something quieter. Tenderness.
“Okay,“
Aaron said.
Nash’s arms tightened, and Aaron let himself be held. Through the tiny porthole, the lights of San Juan glittered against the dark water.
He was in deep. Whatever this was, wherever it was going, he was already in over his head.
And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to swim back to shore.