Marsh had never taken the time to ask before, but tonight, with his ass on the offer, maybe it was time to press his luck.
Marsh slid a hand over his cock, thrusting into the tight clutch of his own fist, then reached lower to circle around his hole. He glanced at Greg. “You gonna?” With his free hand, he gestured toward Greg’s pants.
It took Greg a second for his eyes to focus, his gaze on the place where Marsh was slipping slick fingers over himself. He jerked his head up. “Huh?”
And Marsh had been naked in front of Greg before, but he’d never managed to get Greg out of all of his clothes. Maybe that was a thing of his. A way of keeping distance or power or fuck if Marsh knew. But he wanted it gone. All of it, until it was just skin and need and that long, smooth glide. He wanted to curl his legs around naked ones, wanted to palm the bare flesh of Greg’s thighs as Greg fucked into him.
With the tip of his finger, Marsh breached himself, and wow, yeah, it’d been a while. It felt good, though, and he played it up, writhing into it as he pressed deeper. He stroked his cock with his other hand and let his mouth fall open. “Take off your clothes,” he said on an exhale.
Maybe it wasn’t a game after all. Greg looked down as if surprised to see he was still wearing anything at all, as if he’d been so consumed by watching Marsh that he’d lost track of himself. Marsh gave a little whine as he pressed a second finger in beside the first and Greg slid his thumb into the waistband of his jeans.
He popped the button and Marsh bottomed out to the knuckle. Undid the zipper, and Marsh grazed his prostate, and damn, damn, damn. It was too early, Marsh still too tight, but when Greg pushed his pants and boxer-briefs off and knelt before Marsh naked, Marsh forced the third finger in because he couldn’t wait.
“C’mere,” Marsh groaned, and oh God, all that naked flesh pressed against him. Marsh let go of his cock and grunted at the solid heat of Greg’s erection sliding alongside his. His hand was all slick and gross with lube, but he palmed Greg’s ass all the same and pulled him into the deepest, wettest kiss, and he could come from just this.
Greg slowed them down before he could, though. He slid a fingertip around where Marsh was stretched tight around his own digits, and it was like all the air left Marsh’s body.
“Keep going,” Greg urged. He caressed all around the taut rim, and Marsh keened as he pressed deeper into himself, catching on his gland and having to close his eyes before he gave it up without even getting Greg inside him.
“Need you.” He winced. “It.” And he was a bumbling mess, shaking his head. “Need it, now.”
“Just a little more.” Greg took Marsh’s palm in hand and guided him. “Won’t hurt you.”
God, Marsh wished that were true. He shook his head harder. “I’m ready.”
Greg gave his wrist a twist. “Don’t stop,” he rasped into Marsh’s ear, and then he rose onto his knees, pulling his hand away. He reached over onto the bed where the condom had fallen, and the ache in Marsh’s abdomen and behind his balls flared even hotter.
With the promise of finally getting fucked, he went at himself with purpose, making it just that little extra bit raw, biting the inside of his cheek.
There was the sound of crinkling, and then a low huff, and a warm hand pulling at Marsh’s arm. Marsh opened his eyes and let Greg pull his hand from his body, choking at the sudden ache of emptiness. “Gentle,” Greg murmured, and he pushed Marsh’s fingers back into himself once, painfully slow.
“C’mon, please—”
And Marsh didn’t beg. Didn’t beg for anything or anyone, not out loud.
Greg brushed soft lips over Marsh’s, a too-gentle press of tongue. “Shh,” he said, touching Marsh’s face. “I’ll give you what you need.”
With that, he pulled Marsh’s hand free again, and this time it wasn’t a tease. It was to press his cock into Marsh’s palm. Marsh stifled a shudder and grasped that flesh, spreading the lube around. Cool liquid poured over the whole affair, and everything went perfect and easy. Greg took his own wet fingers to Marsh’s opening, and that shouldn’t feel so much better, but it did. He took two quick strokes, dipping in and out of Marsh’s body, as he kissed him full and smooth, making throaty noises as he sucked on Marsh’s tongue.
Seeming satisfied Marsh hadn’t been lying about being stretched and slick, Greg pulled his hand away. Pulled his cock from Marsh’s grip.
And it didn’t make any sense how Greg entwined their fingers, giving Marsh something to hold on to as he settled himself between his legs. He lined himself up, lips hovering just above Marsh’s, breath a warm wash of air. Marsh stared up into gorgeous eyes, and maybe he did beg. If it was this good, he’d beg all day.
“Greg. Please.”
Greg’s throat clicked, and without another moment’s hesitation, he pressed forward.
Marsh’s toes curled, his whole body going rigid at that pressure. His body opened for it, though. He squeezed hard at Greg’s knuckles, and with his other hand, scrambled for purchase, tugged at hip and arm and shoulder, grasped at anything he could hold on to.
When Greg was all the way inside, he pressed his forehead to Marsh’s temple, and made a sound that was so sexy Marsh almost lost it right there. “So… God, Marsh…”
“Yeah,” Marsh managed to grunt out. Fuck, he felt full—bright and needy and perfect and
full
.
And he might not ever get what he wanted, but this was something.
Greg leaned back, bracing himself with one arm and moving their joined hands so they rested on the mattress beside Marsh’s head. He took a deep breath like asking for permission and drew back. The second thrust inside was faster and rougher and so fucking fantastic. Marsh’s whole abdomen was tight, and Greg was this straining line of muscle, his jaw flexing with every new push in.
He looked gorgeous and perfect and like he was really here. Really present and unleashed. And that was almost better than the fuck, getting to see all those inhibitions stripped away, just like Marsh had wanted. Marsh reached up to put his palm to the shivering line of Greg’s pulse, thumb scraping below his ear. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go. Give it to me.”
“
Ngh
.” Greg pushed even harder, even deeper. He finally pulled his hand free, leaving Marsh ungrounded and floating, and it was fine. More than fine.
Greg fit his palm to the underside of Marsh’s thigh, moving him how he wanted him. He lifted up and touched inside Marsh’s knee, and the angle was too good, sparks shooting off with every press against Marsh’s prostate.
And Marsh had to. He had to.
He snuck a hand between their bodies and wrapped it around his cock and almost screamed.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Greg echoed. He leaned in closer, near enough that Marsh could taste the sweat from his skin. “Wanna feel you come.”
“Fuck—” And Marsh rode that edge for so long he thought he’d lose his mind. Everything else disappeared, leaving just the slap of bodies and the smell of sex and being fucked open. The slick touch of his own hand on his cock, and Greg.
Greg staring at him and not closing his eyes, and Greg seeing him, and Greg looking like he wanted him—
The orgasm pulled itself out of Marsh’s toes. He curled in on himself, digging nails hard into Greg’s back and dragging them down as he pulsed. His vision swam with the force of it, come spattering his chest, and it was a mess, and it was maybe the best sex he’d had in his life, and he was so glad. So glad he’d waited and come home, here, to have it with Greg.
Greg fucked him through it. The instant Marsh started to get his hearing and his sight back, Greg gave another few unsteady pumps of his hips, and then his eyes, open right up until that moment, clenched tight. He pushed deep, abdomen flexing, and then there was just the groan and Marsh’s name.
And Greg collapsing onto Marsh’s chest, spent.
Forgetting himself, still catching his breath, Marsh encircled Greg in his arms, making long, slow strokes over his spine and eating up his shivers. Marsh’s body was thrumming, everything feeling loose and good.
Until Greg stiffened and pulled away. Marsh winced when he slipped free. He slung an arm over his face and breathed into the darkness.
Fuck. Fuck. He’d known this was what he was getting himself into, but that didn’t make it suck any less. He couldn’t have the good feeling without the aftermath, so after a few deep lungfuls, he fixed his expression and dropped his arm, moving to sit. Greg had shifted to the end of the bed, his body twisting away as he dealt with the condom, and maybe it was better that way. It was easier if Greg didn’t have to look at him.
Marsh swiped his pants off the floor and stuck his legs through. He hiked them up as he stood. Draping the sheet over his lap, Greg sat back against the wall, and Marsh could feel his gaze on him.
“You taking off then?”
Marsh couldn’t quite make out Greg’s tone, and Greg’s face was as unreadable as ever. Marsh looked down at the ground and picked up his shirt. “Yeah.” And he had to tack on, “Don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”
“You’re not. Overstaying. You can stick around, if you want.”
What Marsh wouldn’t give if he thought Greg really meant that. All he could hear, though, was the lie about the tutoring from before as he looked at the papers still strewn across Greg’s desk. “Nah.” He flashed a smile that tasted bitter on his tongue. “Besides, your study buddy’ll be back in the morning, right? I don’t think I need that much help with my stats homework.”
Greg’s face turned guilty, and fuck, why couldn’t they just go back to five minutes ago, when everything had been perfect? “I didn’t know if you’d want…”
“Want people to know?”
“Well, yeah.”
“He’s your friend,” Marsh said, like he didn’t care. “It’s your business.”
“You live here, too. It’s your business.”
“No skin off my back.” Marsh wasn’t the one with anything to be ashamed of. “Did you want him to know?”
When Greg hesitated, Marsh’s stomach dipped. Was there anything else he needed to hear? He cleared his throat and looked away. “I don’t know.”
“Well, when you do, let me know.” Marsh pulled his shirt on and stepped into his shoes. He didn’t waste any time getting to the door. “Until then, I’m out.”
Stupidly, he had to go and take a glance over his shoulder before he walked out. Greg was sitting against the wall, looking way more conflicted than Marsh knew what to do with, his cheek sucked in like he was biting the inside of his mouth. And damn it all, Marsh was trying to keep things simple, but with Greg looking like that it was almost impossible to go.
There was more to say. Lots more. But this thing they had would never hold up to scrutiny, and he wasn’t ready to lose it yet.
Greg lifted his head and offered up a smile that looked as forced as Marsh’s had been. “Okay.” He raised his hand weakly. “Good night.”
“Night.”
No more looks back. Marsh pulled the door wide and walked out into the silent house they shared, alone.
Chapter Five
It always started with the aura. Greg blinked hard and dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. When he looked at the screen again, it was still there, though, that shining rainbow haze. He groaned. Now? Really?
Hardly glancing away, he tugged at his desk drawer and grabbed the ibuprofen to shake two out into his palm. He really, really didn’t want to need his script tonight. It left him useless and groggy. Less useless than he would be if this turned into one of those dry-heaving sorts of nights.
The migraines had been coming since he was a kid, but they hadn’t been this bad since he was a senior in high school. Funny, that. Almost like stress was a trigger. Washing the tablets down with a swig of Coke, he looked over his to-do list. Maybe he could just get this one last thing done before he had to turn off the lights and wish he’d never been born.
He slid his glasses on and refocused on the screen. His proposal for the symposium the department was hosting later this fall had been accepted, which was great, which was
awesome
, but now he had to get this presentation put together by the end of the month, on top of everything else. Just another three slides…
Somehow, he got through it. By the time he finished the last piece, though, it was an hour later, and his skull felt like it was pressing in. Tugging his glasses off, he saved the file and backed it up to the server, then lurched out of his chair. As soon as the light was off, he felt a hundred times better, which was saying a lot, considering he still felt like his head had been run over.
Nothing for it.
Fumbling in the dimness, he got the little orange bottle out and fished around for a single pill. He swallowed it down and stumbled toward his bed. And this was the worst. He’d maybe fall asleep once the meds kicked in, but for now all he could do was curl up in a ball and shake and try to keep his dinner down.
He closed his eyes and floated for a while. Thoughts of all the work he had to do kept creeping up, but that way led to a trip to the emergency room for a shot of Demerol in his thigh, and, yeah, no. He should go grab his phone or something and put on some music, something quiet to drift along to, but just the thought of getting up made his stomach turn. And so it was darkness and silence and shifting to try to keep the cool part of his pillow against his face without actually
moving
and setting himself off again.