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We don’t talk about the thread stretched thin and fraying between us. We don’t talk about the goodbye that still hangs heavy in our hearts and like a sword dangling above our heads.
We don’t talk because that’s part of the game. The experiment. Tonight we aren’t Atlas and Blair, aren’t two people who can’t push through the barrier in their path to reach one another. We’re A and B, two friends helping each other find and experience pieces of themselves that they’ve been denying.
“You going to come up here and kiss me?” I ask softly into his ear, and his answering chuckle brushes hot air over my warming skin.
“Thought I’d make you work for it.” He trails his lips up my neck, mouthing at my jaw before pulling back and smiling so sincerely that any anxiety or resistance I may have had left melts away.
Gorgeous.
I curl my fingers into the loose strands of hair at the base of his neck and tug him forward. My lips brush his cheek first, pass over his eyelids and down the curve of his nose, his other cheek, and then hover above his mouth.
His lips twitch, eyes flicking up to mine, but he remains otherwise still. I drag my fingers down his side in a slow, sensual caress.
“Kiss me, Bumble B.”
The world as a whole stops existing when his mouth closes over mine. Honey and peppermint. That’s what he tastes like. Comfort and serenity wrapped in the tingling sensation of desire consuming all of the blood in my veins and replacing it with the taste of him.
I hardly realize he’s led us away from the mess of people until the music dulls and my back thuds against the wall. B plants an arm on my chest and breaks away, an indulgent smile on his flushed cheeks.
“Anchor me,” he says. “Remind me why I shouldn’t want you this hard.”
I shake my head, gripping his hips to keep him in place. “I’m yours, B. Tonight I’m your tether, but you’re free to drift and wander. Take what you want, and I’ll give you what you need.”
He watches me with a look in his eyes that’s like a mix of sadness and adoration. He presses both palms to my chest but leans in closer.
“You are my galaxy, Atlas Huxley. My moon, my stars, this enigmatic force that makes me weightless.” His arms wind around my neck, bringing us flush together. “You are what I need. Your heart. Your soul.” There’s that sadness again. Stronger. “I don’t know how to accept it and not feel like I’m taking something from him.”
I rest my palms on his cheeks, tilting his face up and dropping my forehead to his. “Your heart matters too. You matter, Blair. To me. To your brother.” I rub my nose on his. “My heart matters. And it wants you. I want you.”
I don’t know if my words get through to him or if he’s just tired of the tug-of-war in his head, but I see the shields drop, see the hesitation shift away. And then he crashes our mouths together so hard I’m not sure whose blood blooms between us, and I don’t really care.
“Bathroom,” he gasps as he rips his mouth away, panting into the miniscule air between us. “Unless you want the whole club to see your dick.”
My dick hadn’t even been a thought in the equation until he brought it up, but at the mention it stirs behind my jeans. Blair is like a siren call to my libido. It’s less about wanting sex and more about wanting him. Wanting to connect and be closer to him.
We shuffle into the bathroom, and Blair immediately shoves us into a stall at the end and slides the flimsy lock into place. He crowds me against the door, and my heart starts up a racket in my chest. His eyes are dark with a swirling desire, and they bring me back to that night in his apartment. Where he took me inside his body and begged me to make him whole.
It never felt like I was fucking him. It felt like he was making me a part of himself. And I’ve craved that connection ever since.
The shirts tucked into the back of my waistband are yanked out and tossed aside, nimble fingers flicking the button and lowering my zipper in quick, fluid movements. Dark eyes bounce up to mine and a soothing hand comes up to cup the back of my head.
“Do you want this?” Do you want me? is what he doesn’t ask, but I see that sliver of insecurity behind his controlled demeanor.
Explaining that I’m indifferent to the idea of sex but the thought of bringing him pleasure and satisfaction sends my libido into overdrive feels like too much for this moment. Too much for my brain and tongue to put together in a comprehensive way.
So, I give him the only truth I have words for.
“Make me hard for you. Show me what you need.”
His lips part and then they’re on mine. There’s the shuffle of his own pants being shoved to the floor, hands on my hips working my jeans and boxers down my thighs, and then he rips his mouth away and I’m greeted with a breathtaking sight:
Blair on his knees, looking up at me with blown out, lust-filled eyes.
He starts by flattening his tongue over the head of my cock and dragging it down to the base, wrapping his lips around my girth and sucking on the soft skin.
I groan softly as my head thunks back against the stall, Blair’s lips and tongue working my shaft until it starts to plump up. He takes the heavy head into his mouth and moans around it, stroking me with a loose but steady fist. A hand comes up to cradle my balls, squeezing them softly and drawing a moan past my lips.
Blair toys with my cock like it’s something holy, like taking me into his throat and swallowing around me is the key to some otherworldly experience. I’m hard as steel and soaked from tip to root by the time he stands and presses a kiss to my lips, thrusting his precum coated tongue into my mouth.
