But he’d bear it, all right. It was what he was good at, pushing away the things he wanted. He was goal-oriented and addicted to his work.
And he was lonely and horny, goddammit.
Grumbling to himself, he turned, only to slam right into a damp, bare, rippling chest.
“Jesus Christ.”
Greg couldn’t have said it better himself. He reared back, one hand coming up, and— Oh. Oh, he’d just walked into Marsh. Half-naked Marsh, fresh from the shower, wrapped in a towel and dripping, and repression was a lost cause, was stupid, was the most pointless thing Greg had ever heard of in his life. God, Marsh smelled good.
Dropping his hand, Greg blinked hard and tried to get a grip on himself. “Um—”
“Hey.”
“Hi. I—” What the hell was he supposed to say? “You’re here.”
Marsh tipped his head to the side, one eyebrow rising. “I do live here.”
“Right. Sure.”
Then why haven’t I seen you in four days?
Marsh chuckled and pushed past him, body brushing all along Greg’s, and Marsh wasn’t clumsy. He exuded grace and strength, and before Greg could stop himself, he was grabbing Marsh’s wrist.
Marsh rounded, still all up in Greg’s space, eyes dark. “Yeah?”
“I—” Greg had to get his feet under him. He had to take control.
Because that had been the whole problem the other night, hadn’t it? He’d let Marsh invade his space and kiss him and take what he wanted from him. He’d been the same lonely, desperate, sad sack he always was, and he’d had enough of that with the last asshole he’d dated. He’d let Marsh walk in and walk out and he’d been left feeling like shit about it in the aftermath, and that wasn’t how it was going to go down this time.
Because something was about to go down. Goddamn it all, it was.
Dominant. In control. Greg could do this. Grounding himself, he twisted to intertwine his fingers with Marsh’s, and he slid his other hand up the hot, damp skin of Marsh’s side. He lifted his chin and looked him straight in the eyes.
And his voice didn’t crack. It came out all husky and low, and nothing like him, but exactly like how he felt, deep in the parts of him that were starved for contact. “I’m glad I ran into you. You were going to show me that thing. In your room.”
Marsh’s pupils were dilated, and his breath caught. It made Greg want to lean in closer.
God, please invite me to your room.
Still, there was mischief in Marsh’s smile. “Was I?”
“Yes.”
A breath and then another, and the cacophony of noise from the video game in the living room was bleeding into the hall. There were people home. Any one of them could stumble onto this scene and think all kinds of things that were way too close to the truth, and Greg didn’t care.
He gave in to instinct and pushed himself closer into Marsh’s space. This was putting himself out there, but that was what take-charge kinds of guys did. Right?
Lips close to Marsh’s ear, he said, voice rumbling, “I’ve been dreaming about sucking you again for days.”
And that was all he had to say. The next thing he knew, he was being tugged into Marsh’s room, the door closing behind them, and then his back was against the door. Marsh turned the lock and stood before him, one thigh between his, hands braced to either side of his face. Upward pressure forced Greg to spread his legs.
Oh God. And Greg could have gone for that. He hadn’t been fucked in years, and he’d never been fucked up against a door, not by someone strong enough to hold him up. To make him take it. Just like that, he was hard and aching and ready to go.
But that wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. With one swift move, he flipped them, crashing Marsh against the wall and pressing his own body into his. They were about the same height, for all that Greg felt smaller, and they were eye to eye, mouth to mouth and cock to cock. He slid a hand up under Marsh’s towel. Cupped his palm around that thick, firm thigh.
Marsh’s breath hitched. “So what were you wanting me to show you?”
“I think I can find it. Just needed you to let me in.”
“Door’s open.”
Greg looked down to watch the path he was tracing out over that golden skin, pushing back sparse, coarse hair. He nudged the sides of the towel aside, and it was all he could think about, getting his hands between Marsh’s legs. Fitting his mouth to every part of him there, where he was all musk and man and sex, and he wanted this. Needed it.
“Door’s always open,” Greg said, breathy and dry. “Doesn’t mean anybody’s home.”
And there was a moment. Greg’s words hung in the air, thoughtless and stupid, and he hadn’t meant to call Marsh on the disappearing act he’d pulled these past few days, but there was no pulling it back now.
“Hey,” Marsh said. It was too serious.
Greg shook his head. “Sorry.” This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was ready to sink to his knees and start exploring with tongue and lips, but strong hands curled around his upper arms.
“Hey.”
Greg looked up and connected with probing, blue-grey eyes. Everything went still, the heat dissipating for all that the two of them were pressed against each other and hard. And he couldn’t keep it in, his annoyance and his fear. “You were avoiding me.”
Marsh didn’t flinch. “Maybe.”
“Don’t.” It was too honest, too honest by half, but there it was.
“No?”
“No.” Greg dropped his gaze and looked down. He pressed his palm over the center of Marsh’s ribs. “If you don’t want—”
Me.
“Just don’t—”
Let me drive you from your own home.
And now he couldn’t say the things that mattered?
He cursed himself, ready to push away, but Marsh wasn’t letting go. Instead, he was pulling Greg in even closer, mouth right there, and he breathed, “Okay.”
And then it was all the slow, deep heat of his kiss and the taste of his mouth, and yes, yes. Fuck, please. A needy sound passed Greg’s lips, and he opened wider, pressing forward with his tongue, nipping at the fullness of Marsh’s bottom lip.
Marsh clutched him closer, then got a hand between them to cup Greg through his jeans. He moved to bite at the skin beside Greg’s ear. “Been thinking about this, too.”
Damn if that wasn’t a whole new rush. Greg was so forgettable, so easy to put out of mind, and the idea that Marsh had been remembering how they’d touched and tumbled and made each other come was almost too much. “Yeah?”
“
Ngh
, yeah.” His palm stroked up and down. “Barely got to meet it last time. Didn’t get to taste you or anything.”
It was too much too soon, and Greg had to
control
this, this time. The noise in his throat was almost a growl as he pushed off, and he could do this, could do anything he wanted, and what he wanted was to take Marsh to pieces. He sank to his knees and tore the towel off, leaving Marsh naked and so fucking beautiful, hard and flushed, and Greg could really see him now. No half-blind fumbling in the dark, this was messing around in full daylight, with people in the house and awake, and he wanted so much.
He slid his hand up over perfect flesh, took a second to roll the soft skin of Marsh’s sac in his palm, then pressed his hand against the base of his cock, holding it against Marsh’s abdomen. He nosed all around the hot length of him, breathing it in before sweeping his tongue over the crown, and it tasted so good. Power rushed through him. He shook his head as he nuzzled and licked, drinking in Marsh’s groans and pants and the feeling of blunt nails against his scalp and carding through his hair.
People always made it out as if sucking dick made you the submissive one, but there wasn’t a better rush in the world. There was nothing like having all that room to move, to be the one giving pleasure, to hold an orgasm at bay, edging until a guy was ready to lose his mind.
Humming loud, he tipped Marsh’s cock forward and took it in until it nudged against his throat, and Marsh’s fist hit the wall behind him. Greg popped off and looked up, and God, Marsh looked wrecked and perfect. “Quiet,” Greg admonished, then took another mouthful, wrapped his lips into a tight ring and hollowed his cheeks.
“Shit.
Shit
.”
Greg bobbed and stroked, fist moving with his mouth, and Marsh’s thighs were corded with strain, his grip tight and perfect and almost too much.
Greg pulled off, dropping one hand to press against himself, need sharp and almost painful in his gut. Marsh’s cock stood tall and proud in the space between them, little spasms in the muscles just behind it making it jerk, leaving slick, shiny fluid glistening at the tip.
“Greg.” Marsh’s voice was almost a whine, and Greg loved hearing his name on his lips.
He took another swipe of his tongue over the sensitive skin just beneath the glans and put his hands between Marsh’s thighs. Farther and farther, until his fingertips brushed the cleft, and Marsh curled in on himself, his hand a fist at his side.
Oh, and that was good. It’d be even better if it were Greg’s tongue making Marsh writhe. The very thought of it made him throb. He glanced up without moving his head. The skin behind Marsh’s balls was still damp from the shower, everything Greg touched warm and water-soft. Stroking higher, he nudged against Marsh’s hole. “You wash all your nooks and crannies?”
Now that was
definitely
a whine falling out of Marsh’s throat, and Greg didn’t need any other sign. He leaned back and pushed at Marsh’s hip. Marsh turned around willingly enough. Shaky with how much he wanted this, Greg mumbled, “Spread,” teasing apart the firm cheeks of his ass with his thumbs.
Marsh’s head thumped against the wall at the first long stripe Greg licked up through that valley, tasting earth and salt and soap, wanting deeper and closer. Marsh was starting up a litany of “Yes,” and “Christ,” and “Fuck,” and “Please.” Greg got a hand up between Marsh’s legs, touching balls and cock and abdomen as he laved and probed and licked circles around that tight little opening.
“Like being opened up?” he panted into Marsh’s skin. “Gonna get you all soft and loose.” He pushed the point of his tongue just inside, and the pressure of his own dick inside his jeans pinched and made him gasp. “Wanna fuck you so bad. You want that?”
“Yeah, yeah, anything, just—”
“Next time.” If there was a next time. Greg didn’t do this with just anyone. A furtive handjob or a blowjob in a corner on a lonely night with a stranger? Sometimes. But getting up inside someone, or letting someone come inside him, that was another thing entirely.
Panting, he closed his eyes for a second and pressed his brow to the firm swell of Marsh’s ass. Not this time, no, but soon. For Marsh…for Marsh, and the way he made him feel free and unhinged like this…he would.
He forced his eyes open and bit down on the flesh against his face. For now, he’d settle for this, settle for the taste of him and the sound of his breath, and fuck, it wasn’t settling at all. Licking harder at his opening, he reached around and grasped Marsh’s cock in the circle of his fist, and Marsh keened, shoving into it, fucking Greg’s hand and pushing back against his tongue. His hole was all nice and wet now, and Greg pulled away to press a kiss to the red mark where he’d bitten him before. Got a finger in.
Marsh choked Greg’s name out, clenching down. He rocked twice before going still as he pulsed, hot, all over the wall and all over Greg’s fist, and God, God, fuck, Greg was going to—he had to—
Then Marsh was twisting, was shoving Greg down and climbing over him. He kissed Greg full on the mouth, and it was filthy and delicious. Almost as good as the way he slid down Greg’s body, tearing at the buttons of his shirt to kiss his bare chest and opening his pants.
Greg’s toes curled at the squeeze of fingers around his cock, pulling him out. At the feeling of Marsh’s soft, wet mouth around him, he almost lost it.
“Oh God,” he moaned, fighting to keep his hips still, to not fuck up into all that perfect heat, to not come the first instant he bumped up against an open throat, and— “Fuck!”
He put his own wrist in his mouth because that was Marsh’s
throat
. “So good, so good,” he chanted. Marsh was deep-throating him, and Greg wanted to find whoever had taught him to do that and kiss him and kill him, and he wanted Marsh to never stop, and he wanted to come.
He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore as the pressure built and his balls tightened. The noises being forced out of him were too loud, and he sank his teeth harder into his wrist until it hurt. When a hand touched the inside of his thigh, he didn’t hesitate at all to open up.
The first press of a fingertip against his hole, and everything went dark and blurry and too much. Screaming into the skin between his teeth, he shoved at Marsh’s head. Marsh just pushed deeper, just kept his perfect mouth right there, though, and Greg gave over to it, to the fantasy of Marsh spreading him wide and fucking him into the floor. One more pump and he spilled into the tight stricture of Marsh’s throat as he came and came and came.
Jesus.
The first sound to break through the fog was a quiet chuckle from above Greg. He blinked his eyes open to find Marsh kneeling naked between his legs. As he watched, Marsh’s chuckle became a laugh, became something on the edge of hysteria, and a hard knot of ice took up residence inside Greg’s chest. He started to curl his knees in, but then Marsh was leaning forward, still shaking as he pressed a kiss to Greg’s bare hip before tugging his boxers to cover him up.