He gasped, just a little, then parted his lips. My tongue darted to his, and it was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced.
My cock went instantly hard.
He followed my tongue back into my mouth and licked and sucked, a slow desperation fueling each of his moves. I could feel the brush of his fine stubble against my chin. The miniscule movement of his lips against mine, the rush of air as we each breathed through this consuming kiss. The touch of his nose, just lightly on my cheek.
I was kissing a man.
No. I was kissing Aaron. And I fuckinglikedit.
Just as I was about to slowly pull back, so that we didn’t startle each other, there was a pounding knock on the door.
We flew apart. Him all the way into his corner and me all the way back to my bench on the other side.
“Car service!” came the call.
I swore softly, and adjusted my pants as best I could, even as Aaron threw one leg over the other. He threw a magazine at me, and I realized he was offering me a shield.
Opening it, and holding it as nonchalantly in front of my erection as was possible, I stood and pulled the door open.
“Good evening, sir. Dinner is served.” The busser pointed to the tray on his shoulder.
“Ah, yes, of course,” I managed to squawk. I pulled the door open so he could come in and put the tray down.
Easily pulling up a table we hadn’t even seen recessed in the wall, the busser put the tray down, and nodded. “Please enjoy, sirs.” He walked back out and shut the door.
“We’re still in Russia,” Aaron said.
“We are.”
“You can’t keep kissing me.” His voice was a whisper. I wanted to reassure him nothing would happen, but there was no way I could make that promise.
“Let’s eat,” I answered, probably instead of the one he might have been looking for. Nodding, he pulled the lid off.
We ate in a slightly awkward silence, enjoying the food that was better than it had any right to be. We sat back across from each other, sipping tea, not speaking.
I watched him, though. He sat sipping the tea, staring out the window. He raised the cup to his mouth to take a sip and… Damn. His lips were so tempting. The taste of him lingered on my tongue, even after dinner and tea. The memory of his light five o’clock shadow prickled against my skin.
Another knock on the door interrupted us not long after midnight. I opened the door and a steward walked in. Aaron and I stepped out so he could pull out the beds and make them up, and turn them down.
The look on Aaron’s face was priceless. I didn’t expect service like that, but it was nice and it usually came with the price of rooms we booked. The steward put a little chocolate on each pillow, turned on two small reading lights and shut off the overhead.
He motioned us back in. “Spokoynoy nochi, gospoda.”
“Spacivo.” I nodded and he pulled the door closed.
I turned back to the little room and found Aaron futzing around with the bed, and his suitcase, and just about any other thing he could get his hands on.
“Aaron.” I put my hand low on his back.
“We’re in Russia,” he mumbled.
“Aaron.” My voice was a little more firm.
He straightened and stared at me. “Are you having a gay panic? This is about the time you should be freaking out. Never fall for the straight guy. It’s a mantra in gay clubs, you know. They have a terrible gay reaction to be attracted to dick.” He went back to his suitcase. “I don’t know why, most guys love to touch their own junk, how is touching another man’s really all that different? I get that I don’t have the hips and curves and boobs of a woman, but really, is there anything wrong with not having those and being attracted to it? Calvin Klein doesn’t design for large breasted women. He likes flat chests. Almost androgynous. Short hair, thin hips—”
“Aaron, I think the wrong person is having a gay panic right now.”
He gasped and righted himself. After a few short breaths that were clearly him trying to say something, he finally got a deep breath in, and locked his gaze on my eyes. “Do you hate me?”
