Page 19 of Compulsion

“You mean you were listening when those guys outside the club said get a room?” I quipped.

Seve didn’t answer. He reached to the dashboard and pressed an unidentified button. With barely a jolt, the back of my seat started to recline. After the initial surprise, I released my seat belt and lay back, savoring the luxurious leather upholstery underneath me as it moved. The doors were a snug fit, and no noise intruded from outside the car. On the roof, I could hear the first patter of raindrops, as forecast. I hated the rain, though I wasn’t sure that justified driving to some unfamiliar place with Seve just as a way to stay dry. There was no movement anywhere else in the car park. The trees shaded us from the guest house itself, and I guessed every sane person had left their car long before now and gone into the warm, comfy rooms.

“You forgot to make a booking?” Another of my feeble jokes, but I felt aggrieved. “Or you need a couple of quid toward the cost?”

“It’s not that.”

I felt vulnerable, flat on my back on a car seat that was larger and comfier than some beds I’d slept in. And Seve looming over me from his side of the car. “I don’t understand you at all.”

To my surprise, he didn’t come straight back with a snappy protest. Instead, he gazed at me, the reflection from a nearby security lamp in the car park flickering in his pupils. “Then we’re well matched. I don’t understand you either.”

I laughed. It was a loud sound in the claustrophobia of the car, in conflict with our stilted breathing. “I thought you’d had plenty of experience with guys.”

“I’m not talking about guys,” he said. “I don’t understand you.”

“Maybe you should have stuck with the boy band.”

“Boy band?” He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?” Then his eyes widened with anger. “Those fucking journalists. I tell them to keep away, but they keep calling. I have no time for their stupid gossip magazines.”

“You’re obviously news.” I shrugged. A new business venture in Brighton’s clubland, a franchise with links to other UK cities, a family manager who was young, gay, sharp, and fucking gorgeous. Yeah, what wasn’t news about all that? Especially the manager’s sex life.

“Max?” Seve was staring at me again. “You don’t believe everything you read in that trash, do you?”

“Hey!” I held up my hands in mock surrender. “I don’t believe everything I read anywhere. It’s none of their business who you fuck.”

“Who they say I fuck.” He seemed disproportionately angry about it.

“It’s none of my business either,” I said. The words felt like individual lumps in my throat. It was bizarre, arguing about his sexual diary when I was stretched out under him and aching for him to bend down. Aching for him to fuck me. If things continued like this, I’d start to dwell on the thought of him lying on a bed, panting and naked apart from his sweat, with three or four ridiculously cute pop stars, their lips on his skin and the trail of hair on his belly, their hands curled around….

Yeah. Looked like I was jealous, though it was neither sensible nor my right. I started to struggle back up to a sitting position, but his hand landed firmly on my chest.

“Get back down.” The growl was back.

“You want to do it right here?” I peered out the car window. The rain was running freely down it now, the lingering drops glistening like little silver Christmas tree lights against the darkness outside.

“Right here, yes,” he hissed. “I do it when I want it, where I want it. That makes me hot. It’s more exciting, more risky. Don’t you agree?”

“I—”

He laughed softly. “But I know you do—because you came with me again.”

I didn’t have any other defense. It was true. When Seve leaned over the central console and put his warm, moist lips on my neck, I welcomed it, wriggling on the seat to get a more comfortable position. He slid his hands up under my shirt, pulled it out from my jeans, and jerked the buttons apart with such impatience that one of them sprang off into the depths of the car. His palms were damp with sweat and his fingers were rough. When he ran them up my chest to my left nipple and twisted it sharply, I yelped.

“Hurts, Max?”

I lay back against the cool leather and panted. “Like hell it does.”

His smile made a damp shape on my belly where he kissed it. He licked up from my navel to the other nipple. He flicked it back and forth with his tongue, occasionally sucking it between his pursed lips. I felt the vibration all the way down to my toes, and my knees pushed out against the sides of the seat cushion.

Seve laughed softly, running his free hand down between my thighs. He teased at the seams of my jeans, the material now sticking to my skin with my own sweaty desire. “Soon, Max. Soon I’ll fuck you.” He cupped my groin, rubbing firmly up and down my thickening dick. It made the ache much, much worse. I heard a zip go, but to my selfish disappointment, it wasn’t mine. He slid a hand up to grasp me by the neck again, and for a few long seconds, he thrust his tongue into me, moaning his lust into my mouth. I grabbed him in return, trying to get a grip on his cropped hair, holding his head close.

Then he pulled away. He was panting too, and he fumbled under his own seat with clumsy movements. The back of it jerked down, though it didn’t settle as flat as mine—just enough for him to lie back. His hand was still on my neck, and he tugged my head over his prone body. When he pulled open the flies of his jeans with rather gratifying impatience, I saw he had no underwear on. The cloth parted and his cock was there, nestled against crisp dark curls, already filling and straining to get out into the night air. The skin was flushed and dark; the tip was weeping for attention. My mouth watered.

“Suck me again.” His whisper was hoarse. “It was so good.”

I bent awkwardly from the waist, avoiding a minefield of buttons and switches, and leaned over him. I trapped his nearer arm under my body and went down on him with as much enthusiasm as the first time. He jerked at my first touch and my head banged against the edge of the steering wheel. But then he settled, letting me suck down toward the base of his cock, and I began slowly to torment him. I licked and sucked from his balls right up to the hot tip of his shaft, shining in the dark. I could taste the drops leaking out, feel the ripple of excitement inside its sheath. I wondered how long this rock-hard dick had been aching for this, and how the hell Seve had managed to concentrate on his driving with this in his jeans, clamoring to get out.

His free hand clutched at my hair, pushing my head up and down. Damn, but he liked it. Pleasure was bubbling deep in his groin, I could feel it in his pulse. The hairs around his cock tickled my nose, and the soft furring at the tops of his thighs brushed my chin. I could feel his balls tightening and his cock throbbing on my tongue. He’d come soon. I opened my throat to take it all in.