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Quick
When Quick pulled up to the curb and saw Joe up in Cayson’s face, he had to count to ten before he could get out of his truck. He was a shoot first; ask questions later kind of guy, especially when he felt threatened. Quick growled low in his throat as he watched his man lean away when Joe advanced. Damnit. This guy was like butt fucking without the lube. A straight pain in the ass. Couldn’t the bastard take a hint?
After he’d said his piece, Quick had been fine to let Joe leave. He was ready for his date to start, so he wasn’t going to provoke the already scared man. But when he hurled that last threat at Cayson, Quick’s leash broke and his anger came out full force, like lava bursting from an awakened volcano.
Before he knew it, he had Joe in his grips and it felt amazing. He wanted to lift him and throw him off the porch again, but decided on something even better. Something to make Joe think the rest of the night.
With his mouth close to Joe’s ear, Quick made sure his voice was low enough that Cayson couldn’t hear what he said. “You’re a real idiot, Ana. Cayson is mine now. You let him slip through your little bitch-scared hands, now I’ve got him.” Quick’s voice was rough and deadly. If the devil spoke aloud, he’d probably sound like Quick did at that moment. “Rest assured. I’m gonna fuck Cays so good, and so hard, he’s going to forget all about you, Ana. I promise you that.”
Joe thought he’d yanked himself out of Quick’s grip, but he’d let the man go when he was finished. He wanted Joe to go stew over what he’d just said. While he had no intentions of trying to sleep with Cayson on only their second date, Joe didn’t have to know that. But, hell, the way Cayson was sucking on Quick’s tongue right now, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure how the night was going to end. Both of them seemed starved for a little intimacy.
Cayson moaned boldly, writhing against Quick’s body like a wolf marking its mate. “You look really nice, Rome,” Cayson said breathlessly. “I’m trying not to attack you.”
Quick laughed. Now, that would be a sparring match he’d happily volunteer for, if it was in the bedroom.
“I told myself I’d be good, but you are making it very difficult.” Quick bent even lower and chanced his luck, hoping he didn’t get a hard shove in retaliation. He ran both hands down Cayson’s sides and around to the small of his back. Quick kneaded the taut muscles there first, before he worked his hands over the thick mounds of Cayson’s ass. The loud gasp made him chuckle softly in the crook of Cayson’s clean neck. “Feels good?” Quick murmured.
“Yes. God, yes,” Cayson hissed while Quick continued massaging his ass.
“I want you. I want all of you, Cays. Not just behind closed doors. I want everything I’ve been missing for so long.” Quick wasn’t scared to claim what he wanted. He was a grown ass man, and he knew who and what he was. A bisexual man who was too old to act like he didn’t know his own mind. He’d been married for seven long years before he decided his wife deserved a man who could give her what she deserved… and so did he.
“Damn, it’s been a long time.” Quick dragged his middle finger up Cayson’s seam, mimicking the video he’d watched earlier. But Cayson’s response was so much better than the man on camera. The reaction was genuine longing and yearning from deep down in his doctor. It pulled on Quick’s heart and his resolve. How dare that prick starve Cayson of this? For what? Quick could see the plea for more in his sweet surgeon’s blue eyes. I’m right there with you Cays.
“Jesus Christ you taste so good. Before I get ahead of myself, let’s go to dinner. I need to talk. We need to talk.” Quick waited while Cayson turned everything off in his home and locked the front door. With his hand tightly clasped around Cayson’s, he made sure the coast was clear of Ana before he walked them to his truck and headed for downtown Atlanta on a Friday night.
~~~~~~~~
If it wouldn’t’ve looked silly, Cayson would’ve been bouncing with anticipation while he rode with Quick to The Foxhole. A night out on a real date. He didn’t count the times he’d been invited to men’s homes, or they asked to come to his place. He didn’t count the secluded groping sessions on the far outskirts of the town where he went to college. None of those were dates. A date was what Quick was giving him now. And it only took him god knows how many damn years. Quick parked at 14th and Piedmont, telling Cayson it was a good night to walk. The Foxhole was on the street parallel to Piedmont, so he was glad he’d chosen to wear his comfortable shoes.
