“Jett.”
“I need to feel you.” I tugged the shirt over his head, threw it somewhere it would never matter again. My own went after it. Skin to skin. The barbells warm against my chest now, his heartbeat banging through them. “I need to feel everything.”
His hands found my hips. Pulled me in.
“Then take it.”
I shoved his briefs down. His cock sprang free between us. Long, lean, the curve up sharp tonight, the head of him a deep angry pink, the slit slick with the wet he’d been leaking through the cotton. I wrapped my hand around him without slowing down. He bucked into my fist.
“Fuck.”
“You like that?”
“Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
I couldn’t hear the phone call when his tongue was in my mouth. Couldn’t hear the word stupid.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed into my throat. “If this isn’t.”
“Don’t stop.” I bit down on his lower lip. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
He shoved my jeans down. The PA caught his palm, and he pulled in a breath at the wet metal under his hand. His own hand wrapped aroundme. My hips jerked forward. He stroked me slow, his forehead pressed to mine while I made a sound I wouldn’t have recognized if I hadn’t been the one making it. Loud. It was already loud. I needed it loud. Needed to exist at a volume that blotted out her voice still ringing in my skull. His thumb dragged across the bead at my tip the way he knew worked. My pre-cum slicked his palm. I was leaking already, the slick running down the side of my shaft, the metal warm under his thumb.
I spun him. Hard. His palms hit the wall where my back had been. His back braced against nothing, his forehead knocked the plaster, and he let out a laugh that was mostly breath. His cock bobbed against the wall.
“Jesus.”
“Stay.” I kissed the back of his neck. Dragged my mouth down his spine, biting between the vertebrae, leaving teeth marks. The geometric sleeve flexed as he braced against the wall. My hands found his hips, then his ass, then the soft skin between his cheeks. “Can I?”
“Yes. God. Yes.”
“Say it. Out loud. I need to hear it.”
“Yes. Fuck me. Please.”
I got the drawer in the side table open by reach and grabbed the lube. The first slick of it on my fingers was cold, and I warmed it on the way over to him. Pressed one finger in slow, and deep. The stretch made him push back, his ass against my hand, his forehead against the wall. I didn’t want to be patient, but I wasn’t going to wreck him with my desperation right now.
“More.” His voice cracked against the wall. “Jett, more, please.”
I gave him another. Two now, working him patient even when nothing else about me was patient. His hips rocked back into my hand, not begging anymore, demanding. The slick on my fingers ran down the inside of his thigh. His cock hung hard between his legs, the curve up pressed tight against his stomach where it bumped the wall.
“More.”
“Greedy.”
“For you. Always for you.”
The third went in, and he made a sound that wasn’t a word. Just the wreck of one. His forehead hit the plaster again. His palms scrabbled for purchase that wasn’t there.
“Tell me you want it.” I curved my fingers, and he choked on his next breath. “Out loud.”
“I want it. I want you. Fuck, Jett, please.”
I slicked myself extra, because tonight wasn’t gentle and I wasn’t going to hurt him for my own desperation. The lube on my cock made me shine wet from base to tip, the brown of my shaft slick and gleaming in the light from the hallway lamp.
“Look at me before I do.”
He turned his head over his shoulder. His face was wrecked. His mouth bitten red. His hair damp at the temples.
