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Geoff pushed Chris's door inward and stood in the threshold, letting his eyes acclimate to the dimness. Chris was looking at the TV through half-closed eyes, one hand behind his head, the other lying loosely on the covers. He was on the mattress on the floor instead of in his hammock. He liked having two options for sleeping. The covers were pushed to his waist, showing the waistband of his worn boxers that fell low on his hips. The TV light limned the lines of his firm abdomen, the roll of his biceps bunched behind his head, the tousled hair over his brow. He'd either been sleeping or scraping his hands through it, like he did when he was worrying over something.
When Geoff moved into the doorway, his friend's head turned. Chris's brown eyes were dark and compelling. His mouth was firm, tense in a way that had Geoff's body tightening in response. Chris's large hand curled on the covers as his gaze skated down from Geoff's face over his chest, exposed by the open shirt.
"Turn off the TV," Geoff said. His voice was husky, strange to him.
Chris lifted his gaze back to his face. After a weighted space of time, he picked up the remote and switched off the TV. The safety light plugged in behind the dresser gave Geoff enough illumination to see where he was going, but he thought he could find his way blind. He moved to the side of the mattress. Chris had gone even more still, if that was possible, the energy around him knitting into tighter coils. Geoff knew he might be punched in the next few seconds. Chris could hit like a hammer. But no guts, no glory.
Dropping to his heels by the mattress, Geoff reached out and laid his hand flat on Chris's stomach. All that physical labor, he didn't have an ounce of fat, but with those large bones, he was built like a brick wall. Chris stared at him. He could have been a statue, except no statue had ever vibrated with so much life. Time stretched out like a wire, and Geoff found himself waiting, just as motionless. He wasn't sure if he was breathing.
Chris shifted then, sliding up onto his elbows. Holding Geoff's gaze, he closed his hand on Geoff's wrist and slid Geoff's hand into the loose waistband of his shorts.
Holy God. He'd seen Chris naked before. In the locker room in high school, plenty of times, or that crazy night in Myrtle Beach when they'd picked a couple of cheerleaders up off the beach and had sex with them in separate beds but the same room. When Chris had stripped off his clothes and put his knee on the bed, his eyes on the pretty blonde whose eager arms were reaching for him, Geoff remembered his thick, stiff member rising above the slope of his thigh.
It had been a while since he'd had a close-up impression of it, and he'd never had direct tactile experience. Chris was hard and smooth, that typical velvet over steel that coaxed the fingers to stroke, squeeze. It was his size and the rigidity that impressed Geoff. When Geoff tightened his grip on a surge of pure greed, Chris's lips parted. They were red, moist, and Geoff could imagine their taste.
"You were looking earlier," Chris said, a rasp to his voice. "Looking at it like you were already touching it."
"This better be all for me." Geoff put enough of an edge in his voice to get an answering spark from Chris's gaze. Yeah, it was different from interacting with Sam. Her submission had pleasant spikes of misbehavior. With Chris, the challenge was more constant, at a higher level. Both responses fit the individuals, giving Geoff a delightful variety to enjoy.
"Fantastic Four just went off." Chris lifted a shoulder. "Jessica Alba in a bodysuit. Can't help that."
Geoff snorted. "Yeah, I'll give you that one." He gave Chris's cock a firm pump and Chris drew in a breath. He curled a hand around one side of Geoff's open shirt, not drawing him forward, but holding him in that same stasis. Reluctantly, Geoff released him, put his hand over Chris's wrist and removed his hand so he could straighten to his feet. Moving to the end of the mattress, he stared down at Chris's body, ranged so temptingly below him. "I want to see you naked. Handling yourself."
As Geoff stood, legs planted shoulder width apart, hands loose at his sides, Chris's eyes slid over his bare chest and down.
"Get rid of the shirt," Chris responded.
"Give me incentive." It was like playing poker. Knowing how to bluff and how to draw your opponent out. Though his opponent's responses couldn't be predicted, Geoff usually had sure footing on this field. But for Chris, he'd give ground if needed to win the war.
As Chris held his gaze, he kicked off the covers in a fluid movement so he could remove the shorts. For such a big man, he did it gracefully, lifting his hips up off the mattress, shoving the underwear down and then pushing them off. Geoff studied the burly chest, the structure of his hips, his upper thighs, and spiraled around to the center, Chris's erection. Thick and tall, looming over heavy testicles that were a dark rose color and layered with a light covering of the same type of gleaming hair on his chest. As Geoff watched, a drop of pre-come oozed out of the slit, giving it a pearlescent sheen that made him want to lick his lips.
"Waiting," he said in a voice that was close to a growl. A reminder he'd told Chris to do two things.
Chris fanned out his fingers, sliding his palm down the ridges of his abdomen to find his cock and curl his hand around it. Geoff forced himself not to do a hard swallow. The room was so heavy with erotic tension, everything was moving in slow motion. Chris's breath clogged in his throat as he manipulated the skin over that steel shaft.
"You ever been fucked up the ass, Chris? Had anything up there at all?"
"You know the answer to that."
Geoff closed his eyes briefly. With a man, he was used to this being all about sex. He didn't expect more from it than that, not usually. This was a whole different level. He hadn't been entirely sure if he was right, about him being Chris's first male experience, but having it pretty damn close to being confirmed affected him unexpectedly.
He told himself to get a grip, opened his eyes and let his lips spread in a feral smile. "I want to hear it."
"No. I haven't." Chris's brown gaze held a trace of sullen fire now, his lips firming. Geoff understood the fire, because if Chris's answer had been anything different, he would have responded the same way, no matter how illogical it was.
"Good thing for you one of us knows what we're doing," he said mildly. He dropped to his heels, closed his hand on Chris's ankle. The intimate gesture had Chris pausing and Geoff let him see the truth in his own eyes, hear it in his voice. "Because I'd rather cut off my own dick than hurt you in the wrong way."
Chris's mouth tightened, but Geoff rose again, taking it back a n
otch. "It's better if you've done stuff with it, toys or fingers, to loosen it up," he said casually. "But I like the idea of taking your ass completely virginal."
Geoff stripped off his shirt and slid the tongue of his belt free. He wondered if Chris would ever submit to letting his ass be striped, because the idea of applying his belt to those twin muscular lobes had his cock stiffening up even more. As he let the strap dangle from one hand, Chris's gaze followed it before coming back to Geoff's face. Geoff was reminded of a mastiff, that inscrutable face that gave nothing away until you got close enough to lose a hand. But the key was not showing fear.
Geoff slid the strap through his fingers contemplatively. Chris was still slowly squeezing and stroking his dick. "Roll over on your hands and knees. I've got to get something from my room."
He left the belt by the mattress and slid out into the relative coolness of the hallway. Crossing to his bedroom, he fished the lube and a condom out of his nightstand drawer. He kept it there with condoms, a long-standing habit for potential bed partners, male or female, though they hadn't seen use here until he'd taken Sam.
When he came back, Chris was sitting up on his knees, ass resting on his heels as he faced the wall, but that was as far as he'd gotten. It was quite a view, the wide back and tense shoulders, his buttocks pressed into his heels, his bowed head exposing the vulnerable nape. But he lifted his head and shot Geoff a glance that said the mastiff was thinking about going for the throat rather than wasting the time on a hand.
