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“Don’t worry. You’ll get my mouth,” he says, as he slides a thumb over my lower lip like I pictured at the bar. I part my lips, inviting more. But he doesn’t heed it. Instead, he traces my top lip, and I tremble.
Who knew my good friend could fucking seduce a man like this?
The clip of my heart speeds up. I feel caught in my own greedy desire, in his artful anticipation. I breathe out hard, then take a long hit of him. I’m just smelling that soap again, that shampoo again, and it’s still weaving its magic on me. I crave him so much. When his lips touch mine at last, my mind melts.
He kisses me like a slow, dirty song with a bassline of desire.
I grab hold of his waist, but I don’t move otherwise. I let him take the lead. He wants that. I want that even though I am not used to this kind of kissing.
The sensual kind, where someone explores me thoroughly. It’s a little brain-frying. He’s deliberately slow, lingering on every single moment. Stretching them out with druggy, delicious kisses. Sweeps of his lips. Flicks of his tongue.
Travels of his hands, down my arms, over my abs.
I rarely get this. I never ask for this. But this is why I invited him to my place.
As I lean back against the counter, I take more of what he’s giving me. His body presses against mine, but not in a too-fast grind. More like a hint rather than a pre-fuck.
When Tanner lifts his hands to hold my face, tension unwinds inside me. All that talk of contracts fades away in his touch. My desperate wish for the next thing in my career takes a pause as his lips simply coast over mine, barely kissing me, leaving me with so much want.
My dick thumps hard and insistent against my shorts.
He murmurs as he travels along my jaw. When he reaches my ear, he sucks on my earlobe, then whispers, “What are you into?”
You. Just you right now.
But before I can say a word, someone rubs against my shoulder. Purrs in my ear.
I laugh, breaking the kiss. “Hey, buddy,” I say to End Zone, the big orange boy, who must have jumped on the counter when we were making out.
Tanner lets go of my face, scratches the cat’s chin, then turns to me. “You need to take care of him?”
He asks it with such genuine concern for my cat that my heart beats strangely faster.
“Nah, he’s all good. He’s just saying hello.”
Tanner strokes the cat once more. “Hey, buddy,” he says, and fuck if that doesn’t make me feel good, I don’t know what does.
When he drops his hand from the cat, we both go silent again, and I can tell he’s giving me time and space to answer his question—What am I into?
We’ve talked about sex countless times. We don’t shy away from details. Tanner and I are friends with a bunch of very sex-positive queer men. We don’t hold back in discussing the things we like, the things we don’t like, what works, and what doesn’t work.
But talking about sex with a group of friends is one thing. Talking about it with a guy you’re about to sleep with is entirely different. And when that guy’s your very good friend, it’s infinitely harder.
I can’t rely on my usual defenses—swagger and jokes. But, as I take a fueling breath, maybe I don’t want to.
Because here’s the other thing—talking about sex with the guy you want is ridiculously hot.
It’s one of my favorite types of foreplay. While I know the answer to the question I’m about to ask, I run my hand up the fabric of his shirt, and ask anyway. “You’re vers, right?”
“I am.” He takes a pause and, in that beat, I can smell his desire. Can tell he wants to talk about wishes and wants with me too. “You?”
He also knows my answer. But I say it anyway. “Same. But I mostly top.”
Tanner blinks. “Oh,” he says, surprised.
Yeah, wait till I surprise him some more.
“That’s what you want?” His tone says he’s willing.
God, I want that too. I want it all. Every single thing. I am more voracious than usual with him. I grab his hips again, tug his pelvis against mine.
The ridge of his erection sends a blast of lust through me, strong, and unstoppable. This is a big next step. And I take it. “Not tonight.”
His lips curve into the most satisfied grin in the city. It’s pure, filthy bliss. “Yeah?”
It’s like he can’t believe his luck.
Maybe I can’t believe mine either. “I want you to fuck me.”
His eyes float closed for a few heady seconds. When he opens them, his lips crash down on mine.
Hard and possessive.
Hungry.
Like something has been let loose inside him too. It’s a chaotic kiss, all grabbing hands and crashing mouths. Bodies slamming, heating up, racing.
