Hale made a rough sound and backed Elliot against the shelving unit. His hands moved to Elliot's belt, working the buckle with unsteady fingers. Then he dropped to his knees.
Elliot's brain stuttered. His hands braced against the shelves behind him.
Hale gazed up at him, a satisfied grin on his face.
His hands pushed Elliot's pants down enough to free his cock. Then his mouth was on him, tongue circling the tip, and Elliot closed his eyes.
"Putain—" Elliot bit down on his lip to keep quiet.
He had never been with the same guy more than once. And here he was, giving in to Hale once again—someone who knew exactly where to put his hands, who didn't need to be told anything twice. The rule of not going back to the same man didn’t fit anymore.
Hale started slow. Deliberately slow. The wet heat of his mouth, the careful drag of his tongue along the underside—like he was taking his time learning him.
Elliot's breath came out in ragged pieces.
Hale took him deeper, pulling a helpless sound from Elliot's throat. His hips jerked forward. Hale's hands came up, holding him in place, controlling the rhythm.
Elliot watched him. He couldn't look away. Hale's eyes stayed locked on his face, reading every reaction. No hesitation in his hands. Like he knew exactly what Elliot needed.
The thought sent heat pooling low in his stomach. His breathing went shallow, his fingers tightening in Hale's hair.
A low, deliberate moan rose from Hale’s throat and Elliot nearly came apart right there.
"Hale—" His voice was hoarse. "I'm?—"
Hale didn't pull back. Just took him so deep his nose brushed against his groin, one hand moving from Elliot's hip to his chest, fingers playing with his nipple.
Elliot’s thighs trembled. A shuddering exhale escaped before he could stop it.
Hale watched like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted nothing but Elliot.
That did it.
Elliot came undone with his head thrown back against the shelves, his hands grasping for purchase, trying desperately to stay quiet.
Hale took everything he gave.
With one last slow pull, he stood. His pupils were blown dark, his mouth swollen. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"So that’s a yes?" Hale asked, smirking.
Elliot couldn't answer. He watched Hale tuck him back in, refasten his belt with the same efficiency he'd used to undo it.
"We should get back," Hale said.
"Yes,” Elliot croaked.
They adjusted their shirts, finger-combed their hair into something presentable. When they were both ready, Hale turned to face him.
"I meant what I said. I'm not avoiding you for the next two weeks."
Elliot should argue. Remind Hale of the risks.
"You're an idiot," he said instead.
Hale's mouth curved. "Yeah. But you knew that already."
He left.
