“What?” Shawn managed.
“You don’t need to work there.” A deep thrust. “I’ll pay—”
“Don’t even start.”
“You accepted money before,” Rutledge said, hitting his prostate, again and again.
“Don’t.” Shawn balled the sheets in his fists. It was too much. “Too sensitive.” He tried to remember what they were talking about. “You know it was different before.”
Rutledge’s hips went still, making Shawn whine in frustration.
“How was that different?” Rutledge said in a strange voice.
Shawn blinked dazedly. It was the first time they’d even remotely talked about this thing between them. “I gave you blowjobs because I needed money,” he said quietly. “I fuck you because I want it.”
“It?”
“Because I want you.”
Silence.
Shawn felt himself blush and told himself not to be silly. It wasn’t like he’d said something Rutledge couldn’t guess himself: it was blatantly obvious they wanted each other. But they had never actually said it.
“What?” he said, a bit defensively.
Making a low noise in his throat, Rutledge kissed him again and, changing the angle, set a steady, immensely satisfying rhythm.
“Good?” Rutledge asked hoarsely between his thrusts.
“Yeah.” Shawn couldn’t stop small moans from escaping his lips. “So good.”
His moans grew progressively louder with every thrust, his balls tightening as he approached orgasm.
“Yes, that’s it,” Rutledge said into his ear, kissing it. “Want you.” He pressed wet, hot kisses all over Shawn’s neck, his thrusts losing their rhythm but not losing any of their power.
“Want you,” he said again, his tone different somehow.
A rush of pleasure hit Shawn hard, and he came with a groan, shaking with his entire body. God.
He was only vaguely aware of Rutledge thrusting into him for a while before he finally went still on top of him. Then, to his disappointment and relief, Rutledge pulled out and rolled off him.
Opening his eyes, Shawn turned his head.
Rutledge lay on his back, his eyes wide open. His face was flushed a little, his chest heaving, but he was far from being relaxed. There was a small frown on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line.
At last, Rutledge got out of the bed, got rid of the condom, and started dressing.
Shawn sat up, eyeing Rutledge’s tense shoulders. “Can you give me a ride to work?”
Rutledge’s hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt.
Shawn wasn’t sure why he’d asked. He knew Rutledge’s house was in a completely different part of the city. It just wasn’t practical for him to give Shawn a ride if he had a lot of work waiting for him at home—he would waste hours if he did that.
Seriously, why had he asked? It was stupid.
Shawn stretched out his aching muscles, working out the kinks in his neck.
“Yes,” Rutledge said tersely, looking away again. “Get dressed.”
