Get What You Need (7 page)

He couldn’t do this. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pushed even as he was pulling away, licking his own bottom lip where it was raw. Arcing against his grip, she gave a little shimmy. She flexed her wrists inside his grip. “Oh, yeah,” she moaned, like she liked that kind of thing, and he was going to be sick.

Yanking his hands back, he took two fast steps away, dodging when she moved to reel him in again. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” He readjusted himself in his jeans and tugged the door open, throwing light from the hallway into the darkness.

“What the fuck?” she called after him, but all he could do was shake his head as he stumbled out and rushed toward the stairs.

Because maybe he couldn’t get what he really wanted, but he didn’t want this. This wasn’t helping him forget anything.

Deep inside, he burned. He knew where he could get at least a bit of what he wanted, and if it wasn’t real and wasn’t all of it, well… You took what you could get sometimes. And when your ass hit the curb, after, at least you got to remember it.

Marsh had a moment as he climbed the stairs. A bad moment. Sure, Greg’s car had been parked exactly where it was supposed to be, and the light in his room was on, but that didn’t mean anything on a Saturday night. He could be out, or he could have taken a cab, or he could have just forgotten to turn off the light. He could have someone in there with him right now.

The cup of punch Marsh had slammed back on his way out of the party was sitting in his gut all wrong, making his head feel like it sat half an inch off his neck, but whatever. He’d done stupider things while drunker. He touched his fingertip to his nose just to check, and yeah. He was fine.

His gait was heavy as he trudged up the last few steps. He turned the corner and steeled himself. He’d said he still had his pride, but he didn’t have anything, not if he was really going through with this, but goddamn it. The itch under his skin was deeper now, and he couldn’t reach it by himself.

Greg’s door was cracked open. Marsh had his hand on the knob, was poised to knock when he stopped cold. Voices. There were voices. Shit. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and how could he have been so stupid?

He turned away, but then there was the quiet call of, “Marsh?”

Busted. Marsh twisted around and put his hand to the molding. Through the gap in the door, those gorgeous eyes were staring at him from behind thick-framed glasses, and Marsh pushed the door a little wider. Flash and dazzle, and never let them see you sweat. He leaned against the doorframe, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Ronnie standing next to Greg’s desk. They were both fully dressed, and there were graphs and notebooks spread out all over the place.

Because they were
working
on a Saturday night at midnight. Who did that?

Marsh wanted to sag with his relief, but he kept up the nonchalance he was so good at. He glanced between Ronnie and Greg. “Hey. I was just…”

What
was
he doing here? Ronnie was looking at him like he knew exactly how weird it was for Marsh to be seeking Greg out. Marsh swallowed hard.

“Hey,” Greg answered, then he flinched and reached for his face, pulling his glasses off and folding them up. Clearing his throat, he turned to Ronnie. “Can we finish this up tomorrow?”

“Um. Sure.” Ronnie retreated a step, grabbing one of the notebooks and a small pile of printouts. His expression was still all confusion, but he wasn’t going to question this out loud, at least.

Who knew what kinds of questions he might ask tomorrow. Marsh shouldn’t have come. “If you’re working, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Greg said, “it’s fine.” He tipped his head up to look at Marsh, and there was something in the set of his jaw and in the depths of his eyes. “I thought you’d gone out.”

“I did. But I came back.” His voice was too thick by half.
I came back because I tried to get laid and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it’s better for you to use me than for me to get used by anybody else.

The furrows on Greg’s brow eased, just fractionally, and maybe Marsh had done the right thing. Maybe Greg was as happy to see Marsh as Marsh was to see him.

Then Greg twisted to look at Ronnie. “I’ve been tutoring Marsh on some…” His voice was tight and all wrong, and he trailed off.

The coldness crept back in. “Statistics,” Marsh supplied. Because he could lie like nobody’s business, had been lying all his life.

“Oh. Sure.” Ronnie looked between the two of them again, and Marsh wanted to throw one of their giant engineering textbooks at his face, because Lord knew he couldn’t read one of them, and all he was good for was throwing things.

He certainly wasn’t good enough for a guy to fess up to fucking around with in front of his friends.

Marsh’s mouth hurt from the ugly smile he plastered on as he crossed his arms and stepped into the room. Greg and Ronnie exchanged a couple more words, making plans to finish their work tomorrow.

Ronnie nodded at Marsh as he pushed past. Marsh gave an answering one, then stood there, silent and waiting in the stifling air as the sound of footsteps rang out down the hall. After a minute of waiting and staring at Greg, Marsh turned, ducking his head out into the corridor to check that Ronnie was really gone. He pulled the door closed, holding the knob so it wouldn’t make a sound as it shut, then flipped the lock.

If the room had been stifling a second ago, it was positively oppressive now. Greg was sitting in his chair still, legs spread, wiping his hands on his pants, like they were sweating the way Marsh’s whole body felt like it was.

“Did you have a good night?” Greg asked.

Marsh gave a wry little laugh at that. “Good enough that I came back here at the end of it.” He crossed the space over to Greg and stood before him, but he didn’t touch, not yet. He was cemented in place, wanting and uncertain beneath the weight of Greg’s darkened stare. “You?”

Greg’s reply was just as wry. “Thrilling. Didn’t you notice?”

The guy was wound so tight, like there was something in him just dying to break free, and in that moment, Marsh wanted nothing more than to shake him up a little, to peel away everything that was keeping him hemmed in. Just like that, he was in motion. He was too damn big to be straddling people in desk chairs, but he made it work, climbing onto Greg to kneel over him, one leg bent up against the seat of the chair, thigh pressed to thigh, hips grazing, his other leg straight behind him so his foot anchored him to the floor. Greg’s breath caught, and Marsh leaned in, nudged his nose up against Greg’s cheek.

“I don’t know.” He slid a finger from Greg’s ear, down his throat, and lower to dip under the collar of his shirt, tracing a slow circle in the patch of hair there. Keeping his voice seductive, he murmured, “The giant, throbbing…vein in your temple might have been a clue.”

He smiled against Greg’s mouth as Greg let out a chuckle, and then another. The sound of his laughter was almost as good as the way his shoulders dropped an inch, his jaw unclenching. Voice more open than Marsh had really heard it before, Greg sighed and put a hand at the base of his spine. “How do you always make me feel better?”

That hit Marsh square in the chest, making him feel things he shouldn’t, not with someone like Greg. “I don’t know,” he said, struggling to put them back on solid ground. Back in the place where they always ended up, even though that wasn’t necessarily where he wanted to go. He purred and licked a stripe up the side of Greg’s neck. “Must be my charm.”

“Right.” Greg’s throat bobbed, a little of that tension returning, but he cupped Marsh’s ass and gripped the back of his neck, and yes, that was what Marsh had wanted earlier. This was what they were supposed to do.

Marsh let himself sink into the masculine body beneath his. Rubbed his hard dick up against the answering bulge in Greg’s jeans. He dragged his lips over stubble, and it felt so fucking good. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be working on…” he twisted until he could spot the title on one of those books, “…finite element analysis?” Whatever the fuck that was.

“Tempting.” Greg turned Marsh’s head back toward him, angling him for a kiss they were still hovering on the edge of, so close and not nearly close enough. “Didn’t think you’d come by tonight,” he grated out, and was that a flare of jealousy in his eyes?

Oh, Marsh could so get into that. Could take Greg being possessive and rough, had always wanted just that.

Greg’s hand tightened on Marsh’s neck and his voice went dark. “You smell like a bottle of perfume tried to make out with you.”

Fuck, Marsh did not want to think about that. “Maybe it did.” Marsh ground down on him, one quick press of his hips before he lifted up again, a hot pit of desire unfurling in him at the way Greg arched up into it. “But I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are.” Greg touched his face, and it was so incongruous, the heat in his eyes and the brush of fingertips, so gentle they burned.

There were so many layers tucked up inside whatever Greg was trying to communicate, and Marsh didn’t come here for layers. He came here for something simple. He was good at simple. So he made it about sex again, about things he knew how to get as he pulled Greg’s hand from his face and put it with his other one, firmly on Marsh’s ass. Marsh pushed into that, mouthing his way to Greg’s ear.

“Wanna make sure I remember it?” He moved Greg’s arm so his fingers grazed the seam of his jeans, right over his crack. “Wanna fuck me so I never forget it?”

Greg let out a sound that was anything but complicated as he squeezed and pulled Marsh down.

Marsh sucked on the lobe of Greg’s ear. “You said you would, remember? When you licked me open? Said you’d fuck me, and I’ve been waiting.”

He hadn’t had that specifically in mind when he’d made his way over here, but at the push of fingertips over the fabric covering his hole, at the way Greg groaned and shoved his hips forward, it was all he could think about. Getting all of that inside of him, being claimed, even if only for a little while.

“You like that?” Greg ground out. “Like getting fucked?”

“I’m flexible.” Really, Marsh very rarely did it like this, he usually liked to be the one on top. It was safer that way. But he didn’t have any of the power here; he was just the poor dumb kid asking the guy who had his life together to take pity on him and make him come. It felt right to open up and take it. “But right now?” He bit down hard on the cord of tendon beneath Greg’s jaw. “I’m gagging for it. Want it so bad.”

Greg clutched Marsh close and buried his face against Marsh’s neck with a low groan that went straight to his cock. Greg’s arms were a crushing pressure against Marsh’s ribs. Then he rose, pushing Marsh out of his lap, standing him up before shoving him down onto the bed. Marsh went in a pile of willing limbs. Scrambling for the hem of his shirt, he kicked his shoes off. Greg was tearing at his own clothes, too, and by the time he climbed on top of Marsh, he was naked to his waist as well. Marsh just about choked at the feeling of the coarse hair on Greg’s chest and the weight of him. He spread his legs and lifted his knees, dumping Greg forward so he was sitting right on Marsh’s hips.

Only Greg didn’t go straight for the kill. Hardly even ground his hard cock into Marsh’s abdomen. Instead, he put one hand flush over Marsh’s ribs, thumb tweaking at a nipple, and he put his other palm to Marsh’s face, fingers digging into his jaw.

And, oh, this was the kiss Marsh had been waiting for. It was all teeth and tongues and the rub of a rough chin, the heat of breath and the way Greg smelled like lightning and lust. The way that bristling exterior stripped away to leave this needy, possessive, sexy-as-fuck man leaning over him.

“So good,” Marsh said into his mouth. He grabbed Greg’s ass, trying to get him to thrust a little. Greg let him, making low noises against his breath, and then he was reaching up, past Marsh’s head. There was the sound of a drawer sliding open, and jostling, and yeah.

The lube and condom hit the bed, and then Greg’s hands were back on Marsh’s body. Marsh fumbled to the side until he touched the hard plastic of the bottle.

“C’mon,” he urged, working at the cap and— Huh. New bottle. There was something about popping the seal on it that just turned him on even more.

But Greg was still kissing Marsh like he was dying for every touch, kissing him like he didn’t care when they got to the main event.

Something twisted in Marsh. He wished. Ready to hurry things along, wanting that burn out of his chest and down in his ass where it belonged, he pushed at Greg’s shoulders, leering as Greg pulled away, face flushed and lips kiss-swollen, and fuck. Marsh could get used to this. So easily.

He swallowed, his throat thick. Changing tactics again, he reeled Greg in and kissed him hard, until there wasn’t any room left to breathe or think or want. With a growl in his throat, he pressed the bottle against Greg’s chest. Made his voice deep as he spread his legs. “You wanna open me up? Get me all ready for your cock? Or you wanna watch?”

A flicker of something shadowed Greg’s eyes, and he shifted, putting his brow against Marsh’s. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, taking the bottle and flipping the cap. Grabbing Marsh’s hand and holding it between them to drizzle the slick across his fingers.

Clear enough. Greg kissed down Marsh’s chest, face hidden as he angled his neck and worked at Marsh’s fly. He tugged down pants and boxers, then knelt between Marsh’s legs, chest heaving and looking so good. The only thing that would make it better would be if he’d lose his damn jeans already.