“Hey,” Dalton smiled, turning toward him.
“Hi, Roo.” Tierney rested his elbow on the console between them, admiring his boyfriend and waiting for his hello kiss. Dalton had a T-shirt on under the jacket—a tight, clinging one. Two layers of clothes and he still looked so sexy Tierney wanted to throw him in the backseat, strip him down, and give him a full-body tongue bath.
How was that even possible?
Because I know how he looks under those clothes. Ungh. “Wanna go home first and take measurements?” He leaned closer to Dalton as he asked, close enough to smell the leather of his jacket. “Of my bed?” They were going to buy a new one while they were shopping for a dining room table, anyway. And hey, he’d delay the trip awhile for a good cause.
Dalton gave him a playfully suspicious squint. “Your bed needs to be measured?”
“Needs it so bad.” He stretched across the console and kissed him. Lavishing his tongue on Dalton’s lips the way he wished he could on the guy’s body. His abs. Right now. He pulled back far enough to say, “My bed’s aching to see you.”
Dalton was tempted. Tierney could see it in his dilated pupils and the speed of his breath. His lips were still parted, as if he was waiting for Tierney to come back, or about to say, “And I’m aching to see your bed.” But then he licked them, and somehow that made the haze of lust clear from his eyes, and muscles that had been slack rearrange themselves into something more pragmatic. “New table first. Then I’ll ‘measure your bed.’”
“C’mon,” Tierney whined. “The table can wait. Let’s go home.”
“Your condo you mean?” Dalton asked with a small smile.
“Yeah, that.” Tierney tried to look cute and boyishly pleading, still halfway on the passenger side of the car.
Moving, turning and pressing his torso snug against Tierney’s, and wrapping his arms around Tierney’s neck, Dalton said in his ear, “If we get the table first, I’ll let you fuck me on it.”
“Fuck me,” Tierney whispered, then swallowed. “I mean, not literally, it’s just an expression, you know, like ‘oh my God’ or something, because hell yes I want to fuck you on the new table.” He pulled back just enough to see Dalton’s blue eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement. “I have an idea. We’ll go home and say good-bye to the old table before we say hello to the new one.”
Dalton hitched himself closer again, kissing Tierney quickly, then running one hand down his chest.
Mmmm. Had he actually done it? Convinced him to go back to the condo? Maybe a little extra persuasion was in order. “It could use some more breaking. I don’t think it’s broken enough. Like, if we were to lay you out, naked, on the undamaged side—”
“The old one’s broken because you insisted on playing rugby in the house.” Dalton’s hand found his dick, squeezing through his jeans, and Tierney sucked in a breath. “I think you and Ian both landing on it broke it enough.” He gave him another quick kiss before adding against Tierney’s mouth, “If you want to play ball with me on your new table? You need to take me shopping. Now.” He tightened his fingers around Tierney’s cock once more before letting go, then settled back in his seat.
Normally, Tierney would argue more, but the stakes were too high today. Besides, his brain was bathing in lust hormones, and not a lot of help right at the moment. He swallowed. “Okay. Let’s get this done, but that means that later, you have to play ball with me on the table and measure the bed.”
“Deal,” Dalton said, then bit his lip, smiling.
Tierney focused on the steering wheel, trying to get his head back in the game enough to drive to the furniture store Dalton had picked out. Promising himself this would be the fastest shopping trip in history.
Tierney was so transparent. Did he really think Dalton would forget what today was? If nothing else, it was also the anniversary of the day he’d broken a man’s nose, and that was something one remembered. The memory had resurfaced this past week, because the last of the bashers had made his deal with the district attorney. Dalton was somewhat relieved that he wouldn’t have to testify, but not totally happy with the sentences each of the defendants had received.
Robert Bobinski had made the first deal with the DA. Apparently he’d gone straight to her office from the hospital to meet his waiting lawyer. Grady Fowler had made the next deal. Tierney had been especially unhappy when the guy had gotten away with no jail time, just probation and a whopping fine. “It’s because his daddy pulled some strings,” he’d bitched, pacing around the condo.
“And because they couldn’t charge him with as many crimes since he didn’t have the bat.” Dalton had felt he should remind him of that, even if he was certain Sheriff Fowler had had something to do with the guy being let off so easily.
So, yes, that whole mess was near the forefront of his thoughts. Regardless, he was unlikely to forget that six months ago was also the day he and Tierney had made things officially boyfriend-like. And the day Tierney had asked him to move into the condo.
Tierney had hinted—heavily—since then, but never brought the subject up, exactly. Instead, he’d said things like, “Thank God we didn’t listen to all that advice about not starting this relationship,” then lead them into a conversation about their future together. Dalton sometimes let himself go there, imagine what they might be doing in two or three or ten years, because he couldn’t imagine not being with Tierney, ever. It wasn’t always easy—the second month after rehab had been particularly difficult, as Tierney’d adjusted to normal life even more. “What the hell do people do in the evenings to relax if they can’t drink?” he’d whined.
Dalton had come up with one or two dozen ways to relax his man. He should get a medal for it, since Tierney wasn’t an easy guy to relax. He had a ton of energy, and was always doing stuff like playing rugby in the condo with Ian. That second month they were together, when Dalton decided he was with the most hyper man alive, he’d accused him of being Tigger.
“Like from Winnie the Pooh?” he’d added when Tierney looked at him blankly, standing in the middle of the living room.
“Really?” He flopped down on the couch next to Dalton, nearly trampolining him off the cushion. “Why?”
“You remind me of him, when he bounces around on his tail.” And drove the other characters insane.