“Yes. Absolutely. Yes. I very much wanna look at your new bed.”
Dalton had no excuse for seducing Tierney like this, except gratitude. For the gift, or rather the thought behind the gift. For making him feel special, and acknowledged. For taking Dalton’s own preferences—even a simple, mundane one like reading—into account.
Had anyone, ever, done that? As the youngest of five, he’d been spoiled, but with the things others thought he’d want, and as the boy toy of wealthy men, he’d been indulged, but only when it was convenient. No one had ever thought about what he would like.
At least, right now, it seemed as if Tierney was the only person to ever really care enough. Or the only person that mattered. Why would anyone else matter when he had this man pressed up against him, kissing Dalton like oxygen was optional, arm cinching around his waist and hand creeping down his back to his ass? His right leg wrapped around Tierney’s thighs all of its own volition, pulling them groin to groin, within grinding distance.
Tierney groaned explosively, which Dalton hadn’t known was possible until the man yanked out of their kiss and did it in his ear, pushing Dalton nearly through the sheetrock. We’re still in the hallway.
“Come inside.” Taking Tierney’s wrist, he slid along the wall until the jamb scraped against his shoulder blade. He walked back through his open doorway, towing Tierney along with him. Leaving the gift on the table next to the entry, he yanked Tierney within intimate distance again.
Their journey to his bedroom was passionate in that way Sam’s books always described, but Dalton had never experienced. Over the hissing and growling of his cat—“Ignore Blue,” he gasped between kisses—they stumbled down his hall, not able to stop touching each other, leaving a trail of clothes along the way, beginning with Tierney’s button-down in the entry. Dalton struggled out of his jacket and left it in front of the bathroom, whipping his shirt off just as they stopped in his room, between his wardrobe and his bed. Inviting Tierney to rub his hands all over the naked skin, and encouraging him to map out all his sensitive spots by moaning whenever Tierney found one with his fingertips. Even groaning, “Please,” when Tierney hesitantly toyed with the top button of his fly.
He flicked it open immediately, shoved inside, and grasped Dalton’s dick through his briefs, squeezing.
God. All this time the man was worried about being too needy, but as far as Dalton was concerned, this, right now, was about what he needed. He needed Tierney’s pants off, and he needed to feel Tierney’s cock sliding across his palm.
“Let me make you come,” he whispered as he worked his fingers down the front of Tierney’s still-buttoned jeans. Under the waistband and into the short curly hairs. Reading the man’s excitement through the intensity of heat and sweat.
“No,” Tierney gasped, yanking his hand out of Dalton’s underwear, stopping all motion except the working of their lungs, until he said, “I wanna— I mean, can I fuck you?”
Dalton’s rational brain tried to remind him that he couldn’t do this lightly. Let someone inside him. And this was just friends with benefits, even if it felt like so much more. But he’d already prepared for it. Needed it, regardless of how much that sounded like a line from one of Sam’s romance novels. “Please. I want you to.”
Just for the next hour or so, he’ll be my boyfriend, then we’ll go back to just friends. One night of lavishing Tierney with all the attentions he’d give a man he loved, as if they were a real and actual couple, with full benefits.
Tierney couldn’t say how, but they made it to the bed, shedding the last of their clothes. Dalton pulled out condoms and a bottle from his nightstand, tossing them onto the covers, then lay down, arranging himself so he was next to Tierney.
He propped himself up on his elbow, facing Dalton. “Tell me what needs to happen”—he slid his palm down perfect abdominal muscles—“so I can fuck you.” Just the word made him shudder and his vision go blurry for a split second.
“It’s been a while for me,” Dalton said, meeting his eyes, circling a thumb around Tierney’s nipple. “So I have to be prepared. I can do it for myself, or—”
“Me.” He was already pulling Dalton’s leg up into the air, moving to kneel between the guy’s thighs. Fuck yeah, he was greedy. But he’d waited years for this, and more importantly, Dalton wanted him to do it. Wanted Tierney to fuck him.
At what point did excessive shuddering become convulsions? Dalton gripped his forearm, stopping Tierney from reaching for him. “Put the condom on now, so you don’t have to think about it later.”
It boosted his confidence that Dalton wanted him to do it himself. Like he was really in charge here. Truly capable of taking the lead, in spite of having almost no experience. Dalton believed he could do it.
So Tierney believed too, and did it. Dalton had to guide him through the rest, though.
Eyes trained on the sight of Dalton’s hard dick bowing up over his stomach, just inches from Tierney’s fumbling hands, his muscles could barely follow commands. He couldn’t get the lube open, so Dalton did it. The sight of his own shaking finger reaching for Dalton’s hole nearly made him giggle when, for a split second, it looked like E.T.’s reaching to point out his home planet. He half expected to hear “phoooone hoooome.”
Be smooth, for once. Be the man, you unmitigated dork. Soon he was lost in how tight and hot Dalton felt around his fingers, and then, when Dalton wrapped his hand around Tierney’s shaft to guide him, the friction against the head of his cock.
When the resistance of Dalton’s hole began to give, grudgingly swallowing Tierney’s dick, they sounded off in unison, like cheering on an athlete, except more gasping and less shouting.
“Feels good?” Dalton asked breathily.
Tierney groaned, looking down just in time to see Dalton grasp his own dick and stroke it, his thumb making some special move that could only come from years of practice and familiarity with what really did it for him. “Oh fuck, that’s hot.”
“Watching yourself?”
“No. You.” He gulped in some air. “So sexy. Do it again.”
Dalton grinned at him, damp bangs clinging to his forehead and eyes shining. “I am.”
“The thing with your thumb.”
“Like this?” He stroked up on his shaft, and Tierney followed his lead, pushing further inside all that tight heat, and then Dalton did that move again, flicking his thumb and stroking sideways just under his cockhead, right in the center, and Tierney could feel it. As if he were inside Dalton’s body but also getting that handjob.