The Lonely Drop (7 page)

“Time to lose the pants,” I suggest, and his hands fly to his belt buckle.

I follow his lead, dropping my jeans and briefs to the floor.

“Nick, you’re…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I know you don’t want me to say it, but you’re so goddamned hot.”

I chuckle. “I think now is an appropriate time for flirtatious compliments.” I duck my head, blushing. “Thanks.”

He pulls me down with him to the bed, and we’re kissing again. Echoes of our first kiss, almost eleven years ago, wander up to the surface, but I push them back, concentrating on the here, the now, the feel of his cock rubbing against mine, the sounds he makes deep in his throat when that happens. When his head falls back and he growls, I feel like I could combust right there from that noise.

“Stop, Nick.” He pushes my hips away from him a little. “Frottage is wicked fun, but I don’t want to come like that.”

“Are you that close?” I reach between us and grip him in one fist, slowly pumping my hand up and down. He’s not circumcised, and I pull the foreskin up and over the glans, then push it back to expose him again. I could play with that skin for hours and never get bored. I tug at it, twist it gently, slide it up and down, all while he makes the most amazing noises deep in his throat. I watch it sliding in my fist, watch his hips rutting up into the air.

“Fuck.” He throws his head back against the pillow and fists his hands in his hair. “Stop, I want to blow you.”

I drop his dick and flop onto my back. I grin at him and gesture to my own cock. “Be my guest.”

He gets a wicked look in his eye then, and he grabs the pillow and shoves it under my hips, pushing my legs apart as he moves down my body.

“I like an all-access pass.” He grins at me just before he takes my cock into his mouth.

Holy…

He slides his tongue around the head, teasing me with light flicks between sucks. Using his hands to stroke my shaft and play with my balls, he focuses his attention on all the little spots that get me hot— under the head, a flick of tongue. Behind my balls, fingers and a sweet press to the skin of my taint. And then, with a wicked leer, he lets my cock slide from his mouth, pushes my legs over his shoulders, and tilts my ass toward his face.

“Kev!” It’s a half-shout, half-plea as he pulls my cheeks apart and stares at my hole. He leans close, sucking one of my balls into his mouth while he brushes a thumb over my opening. He releases the testicle and pulls back to watch his thumb petting me.

“You’re so sexy, Nick. I like how you let me just spread you open and look my fill. Your cock is gorgeous, but I’d be a stone-cold liar if I said I didn’t want to be inside this ass.” He dips the tip of his thumb inside. It’s dry, no lube, and it burns a bit, but he doesn’t push further. “You want that, babe? I’ll make it so good for you.”

I nod. I do, I want him every way I can have him, if all I get is one night.

“Do you have condoms?” The question seems to come from very far away. Condoms are…

“In my bedroom. Um, we should check the expiration date.” I start to sit up and his thumb slips away, leaving me feeling empty, even though he’d only barely dipped inside.

“I’ll get them. Tell me where.” He pushes me down to the bed.

“Last door at the end of the hall. Next to the bed, in the top drawer. There’s lube there too.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears out into the darkened hallway, and for a moment, I’m annoyed by the power outage, the dim light growing dimmer as afternoon turns into evening. I want to see him. I hear a muffled curse and sit up, but then he returns, brandishing a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms.

“I tripped over your running shoes.” He smiles sheepishly and tosses the supplies on the bed. Then he’s on top of me, pressing his body full length against mine with a sweet grind as he kisses me until I gasp for air.

He opens the lube bottle and squeezes some into his hand. He holds it there for a minute, letting it warm, then runs a slippery finger around my hole. He pushes inside, just a little, while adding a little more lube. He opens the condom and rolls it onto his dick. I watch him pour more lube on his hand, then stroke it over the condom, getting ready for me.

“How do you want me?” I ask. It’s a vulnerable thing, acknowledging his lead. He’s straddling me now, so I can’t turn, can’t lift my hips, can’t do anything until he chooses to let me.

“Just like you are.” He moves between my legs and pushes them up toward my chest. “Want to see your face. It’s better like that.” He smiles. “At least, it is when it’s more than just bodies.”

I nod my agreement. I want to see his face too. His cock nudges against me, and I take a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” He presses a bit, and I nod, letting out the breath and pushing against him as he slips just the head inside.

“Oh.” His eyes squeeze shut like he’s in pain, then open wide, wider than I’ve ever seen them. He grips my hips in his hands and pushes forward a little more, watching my face as he slides deeper. I bear down against him, and suddenly he slides freely and we both gasp. His cock feels huge, intractable and nudging deep. It’s almost too much. I struggle to accept it, my whole body tense and my erection flagging.

“Nicholas.” He’s staring at me, that wide-eyed look on his face again, and I shudder. This is Kevin, looking at me with a mix of adoration and ecstasy.
Kevin.
And then he nudges forward again and the tension inside me lets go. My head drops back and I let my legs fall to the side.

“Oh God, Nick.” He draws back, thrusts deep, and then we’re golden. It feels amazing. I grab my cock and tug it to full hardness as he sets a rhythm. I roll my hips into his thrusts, riding the heat and the friction, loving him, and loving this with him.

He leans over me, drops to his elbows and kisses me, rough and sloppy around the shocked gasps he’s drawing from me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Nick. You feel so good.” He whispers against the side of my face, in my ear, along my chin as he covers it with nips and kisses.

“So do you.”

It’s never been good like this. Never have I felt this exposed, this inside out. I love him. I love him tonight like I’ve loved him for years, and I feel it all over my skin like a fire, in my dick and balls like a storm, in my heart like a catastrophe.

It’s too intense to last long, though I want it to last forever. I feel the orgasm welling up and I try to take my hand away from my cock to prolong it, but he just replaces it with his and gives me the final two tugs to push me over the edge.

I bury my face in his shoulder, shuddering through the shock of it, the intimacy of his adoring gaze on me too much for me to see, knowing it’s only for tonight.

“Nick, baby,
Nick.
” He groans out my name one last time as he drives deep and shakes. His face is barely visible now in the low light, but what I see is beautiful. All his masks are stripped away in this moment of utter vulnerability, and I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more.

Afterward? He falls asleep. What a cliché. I can’t help but smile as I watch his chest rising and falling. He rolls to his belly and snores, and I just watch, running my hand in slow strokes down the length of his spine, admiring the curve of his ass and the firm, tan skin. Not ready to stop touching him, not ready to give him up.

I promised him one night, and I won’t try to hold him longer. I want to— but I won’t.

“Nick?” He calls into his pillow.

“I’m here.” I lie down beside him, wrap my arm around his waist and pull him against me.

“Mmm. That’s nice. Nap with me.”

“Okay, Kev. Whatever you want.”

“Want to wake up next to you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.”

But you are, aren’t you?

****

Chapter Six

We wake up around suppertime, when the lights come on and the house roars to life around us.

“Hey,” he says softly, stroking a finger down my face. “No regrets?”

I smile in spite of my fears for what this means for our friendship. “None.”

“Cool.” He leans over and kisses me, just gently at first, then, with a little groan, deeper, rolling his weight onto me and thrusting his semi against my leg. When he draws back, we’re both a little breathless. “You’re gonna get me going again.” He smiles, biting his lip.

“Mmm. That could be fun.” I stretch in his arms, enjoying the press of his body along mine. “But let’s eat supper first, I’m starving. Might as well take advantage of the power while we’ve got it.”

“What would you usually do on a night off?” He asks as we pull on our clothes— he trades his suit for a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from his luggage— and head for the kitchen.

“I usually work until after the happy hour rush, then hang out for a bit to make sure everything is good before I head home. But most nights I stay until close. Very weird to be home during the afternoon.”

“You work every day, don’t you?” Something strange crosses his face. I’m not sure whether it’s revulsion or sadness.

“It’s different when your job is your passion.” I shrug. “It’s not like going into an office every day to make money for someone else.”

I pull out the Dutch oven and a couple of cutting boards. My pantry is unprepared for this storm, but I bet I can throw something together.

“Do you like beets?” I ask, digging through the vegetable drawer. I look over my shoulder to catch him nodding. Okay, vegetarian borscht it is. I grab a head of cabbage and hand it to him. “Knives in the block on the counter. Cut it into half-inch wide strips.”

While he starts slicing cabbage, I peel and chop the beets and a couple of carrots. I slice an onion and set it to browning on the stove.

“Why do you work in the bar rather than the restaurant?” he asks, still slicing cabbage. “You love the cooking stuff, right?”

“I hired a chef to run the restaurant kitchen. The Drop is my baby.” I smile, upend my vegetables into the Dutch oven on top of the onions, and reach for the potted herbs on the windowsill. I pick a few stems of dill and start chopping them. “I started the brewery and bar first, then expanded into the restaurant space when it became available. It was always part of the plan, but it happened a little sooner than expected.”

“It sounds like a pretty sound operation?”

“Yep. We’ve done pretty well for ourselves. You can put the cabbage in the pot now.” I grab a quart jar of vegetable stock from the fridge and pour it on top of the vegetables in the pot, admiring how the beets turn everything a delicate shade of red. Covering the pot to let it simmer, I grin at him. “It’ll be ready in about an hour. Any idea how to pass the time?”

He grins back. “I can think of a thing or two.”

“Oh yeah?”

His grin turns into something almost like a leer before it falls away, and he looks serious, even sad, but as quickly as the grin disappeared, it’s back, and he takes my hand. “You promised me one night. I hope you didn’t think I’d only make you come once. That was too pretty a sight to not have a repeat.”

I shudder slightly as he pulls me close enough to kiss, a hot little nibble of lip on lip, a hint of teeth, and then he’s rubbing those lips against my throat, my Adam’s apple, my ear.

“Fuck,” I mutter, letting my head thunk against the cabinets and my eyes close. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”

The warm, wet heat of his mouth disappears for a moment, then I feel his hands on either side of my face. My eyes snap open to see his face right
there
, right in front of mine, all soft and genuine. “Nick. You’re not ‘all the guys’. Nothing that happens between us is like anything I’ve had before. You promised me a night. Can I get one more promise from you?”

I wince, knowing I’d give him anything he was bold enough to ask for, be it kinky shit outside my comfort zone, or even running out to the nearest Ingles to get him some bacon for breakfast— I wouldn’t eat it, but I’d cook it for him every day if he’d just fucking
be here.
“What’s that?” The words come out wavery, and I hope he thinks I’m turned on and he doesn’t realize how close I am to breaking apart in his hands.

“Teddy Roosevelt says comparison is the thief of joy. Stop stealing our joy. Stop comparing me and you to whatever else either of us has done. One night. Let it be just us.”

“Said,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Teddy Roosevelt is dead. Past tense. Said.” I smile, letting him see I’m only teasing.

“I’m quoting dead politicians in order to get in your pants and you’re correcting my grammar? God, what a pair of tools.” He snickers, but his voice is gruff, his New York accent as strong as I’ve ever heard it when he says, “So, come on. Can I suck your cock or what?”

I’m undone. I pull him close, and this time I’m leading the kiss, trying to make up for bringing my hurt into this moment. I tell him with thumbs easing his jaw wider. I tell him with teeth nipping at his upper lip, my tongue teasing over it. I tell him with my hands dropping down to his chest, then to his waist, settling in to hold his body close to mine. I tell him with every part of me touching him— there has never been anyone in my life who compares to him.

When he pulls his lips from mine and sinks down to his knees, my chest heaves and I’m struggling to catch my breath. He draws my pants down my legs as if he’s unwrapping a gift, and when he smiles up at me, beaming really, it’s like I just gave him the one gift he wanted most.

His tongue steals out to lick at the head of my cock. The flicker of wet heat, a tease, is enough to wrench a groan from me. Then? He goes after me in earnest. He takes me deep, swallowing around me until he gags a little, and it— fuck, it turns me on, knowing he wants me that badly.

“Kev…” I manage that much of his name as he pulls back, then he takes me deep again, and I grunt heavily as I fight the urge to thrust into his mouth.

He pulls off and looks up at me. “What are you waiting for? Let go, Nick.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I mumble. “Use you.”

He grins up at me. “You’re not going to hurt me. And I want to be used.”

Oh. My. God.