“Most of my hookups don’t involve this much talking.” He stood up and pulled his T-shirt off over his head. “It threw me off.”
He dropped the T-shirt onto the floor and walked over to pull Clay into a kiss. For a moment he was doing all the work, and then Clay’s hand slid around his hip and pulled him closer. His cock pressed against Grade’s hip, and his tongue shoved roughly into Grade’s mouth as he took over the kiss. It was rough and impatient, all sharp teeth and short, ragged gasps of air. Stubble scraped at his lips, and Grade tasted Imperial Leather with an undertaste of smoke.
Clay broke it. He stepped back and smirked at the involuntary groan that escaped Grade.
“Yeah,” he said. “If I were you, I’d get over that. You should know by now, I like to talk.”
He braced his hand against Grade’s chest and pushed him toward the bed. Grade resisted for a second but then went along with it. His knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he fell back onto it. Clay crawled on top of him, all heavy muscle and skin that was still damp from the shower. He straddled Grade’s hips, cock flushed dark and tilted up toward his stomach. It twitched with his heartbeat, the long vein on the underside proud.
Grade ran his hands up Clay’s thighs, over the clenched bands of muscle and damp skin. His thumbs grazed over the trailing edges of scar tissue as he headed toward—
“Ah,” Clay said as he caught Grade’s hands and wrapped long, inked fingers around his wrists. He pushed them back down onto the bed, his body slanted over Grade and close enough that his cock was trapped between their bodies, hard as it pressed against Grade’s stomach. “That’s not how we’re playing this.”
The muscles in Grade’s shoulders tightened as he tried to break Clay’s grip. It didn’t work. Clay just tightened his hold enough to make Grade bite the inside of his cheek in discomfort, and pinned Grade’s wrists to the mattress. After a second of struggle, Grade gave up and relaxed under Clay’s weight. His heart stuttered against his rib cage with a mixture of arousal and anxiety.
“Didn’t know there were rules,” he said.
Clay grinned again, loose and wicked. He dropped a quick, rough kiss on the corner of Grade’s mouth.
“You like rules,” he said, between Grade’s lips. “Bet you never got in trouble at school.”
Grade felt the heat scorch over his cheekbones. He shifted position against the mattress, sheets rucked up under his hips and elbows. It was stupid to be defensive about a squeaky-clean rep from a decade ago, but…
“I knew those rules.”
Clay smiled and bit the edge of Grade’s jaw. “And I know these,” he said. “That’s what makes it fun.”
He rolled off Grade and threw himself back dramatically. The dark sheets made his skin look brighter—honey gold splashed with ink. He tucked one arm behind his head, tense muscles defined as they bunched under his skin, and ran his free hand down his chest in a slow caress as he waited for Grade to prop himself up on his elbow.
“You wanted to play jungle gym with my cock,” Clay reminded Grade as he idly flicked the tight light-brown nub of his nipple with his thumb. He paused long enough to wave his hand at the long, taut sprawl of his body. “Feel free. But you get to do all the work.”
Clay reached out without bothering to look and grabbed a bottle left on the bedside table. He tossed it to Grade. The plastic was sticky and smelled of…
“Is that… cake?” Grade asked, lust stalled briefly as he sniffed his fingers.
Clay grinned. “Black forest gelato,” he said. “What? I don’t deserve nice shit?”
Grade paused, head tilted, and stared at Clay. “Was that on purpose?”
“No,” Clay admitted after a second. “But it will be next time I use it. Now, you gonna get on or what?”
He waited, eyebrows raised, and Grade rolled his eyes as he got up onto his knees. It wasn’t that Clay being an asshole was a problem—it was a feature. If they survived the next twenty-four hours, the last thing Grade wanted was anything to tie him down to this shithole town. But it being foreplay was unexpected. Grade popped the cap on the bottle and squeezed a blob of clear, ferociously chocolate-cherry scented lube onto his fingers.
“And what if I wanted to fuck you?” Grade asked as he knee-walked up the bed until he could sit back onto Clay’s thighs. He cupped Clay’s balls in his wet fingers and then glazed the hard length of his cock in the lube. The muscles in Clay’s stomach hitched at the contact, suddenly rock-hard under tanned skin and scars, but his expression didn’t change. “What are you going to do then?”
“Turn over?” Clay said. His voice stayed even, but his breath hitched briefly in the back of his throat as Grade pressed the pad of his thumb against the base of Clay’s cock. There was a flicker of lazy challenge in his eyes as he asked, “Want me to?”
The thought made Grade’s balls tighten, a tug of interest that ran back along his taint to his asshole. Grade could imagine Clay sprawled out under him, those tattooed shoulders slick with sweat and his asstightaround Grade’s cock. It might even shut Clay up for a second.
Probably not, though, and…
“No,” Grade said. “I don’t.”
Clay’s grin widened. “Didn’t think you would.”
“Not this time,” Grade said.
His brain stuttered over that briefly. This was meant to be a one-off. It was a faux pas to bring up repeat performances. That was a rookie mistake. Luckily Clay seemed to have missed Grade’s fumble. He just waited expectantly.
