Xylophone (17 page)

stopped himself. “Never mind. I don’t want to jinx

it.”

Their eyes couldn’t seem to unlock.

“Come on, I’ll help you clean up.” Jonah slid

back from the table. “You still have to make good

on that promise, you know.”

“I don’t recall promising anything.” Dare

gathered up their plates, silverware, and napkins.

Jonah lifted the water pitcher and glasses.

“You didn’t. We’re a little too old to pinkie-

swear. But the way I see it, you still owe me a

dance.”

Chapter Sixteen

AFTER the table was cleared and the dishwasher

filled, after Jonah went to the bathroom and Dare

did the same, Jonah walked to the foyer. He came

into the living room holding up a CD case.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

Dare stood. He’d been crouched before the

shelves of movies in the entertainment center.

“What, you don’t trust my taste in music?” In mock

challenge, he sauntered up to Jonah.

“Why should I? Just because you play the

clarinet? That doesn’t mean you don’t scramble

your brain with techno-pop every chance you get.”

He waved the CD just inches from Dare’s face.

“So I brought a collection of classic ballads.

Streisand, Sinatra, Nat King Cole.
Real
music.”

Oooh, he could be a brat. Dare loved the

unexpected bursts of sass that splintered Jonah’s

usual smooth politeness. They made Dare feel like

a member of an exclusive club. Jonah, he

suspected, didn’t forfeit his manners and go

smartass with just anybody.

“You’re such a nerd,” Dare said, stepping

closer. “But such a
cute
nerd.”

“And you’re even sexier when you smirk.”

Jonah slid the plastic case into Dare’s hand,

stroking a forefinger over one of Dare’s knuckles

as he did so.

Dare reached to his right and slid the case

beside the CD player. The prospect of dancing

with Jonah dwindled by the second. Dare’s chub-

on was well on its way to becoming a hard-on. If

he moved forward an inch, his crotch would

connect with Jonah’s.

Simultaneously, they put their hands on the

sides of each other’s hips. Dare moved forward an

inch.

Contact. And it was electric. Jonah expelled a

short, harsh breath. Dare’s legs went molten on the

inside.

“D’you have a bed?” Jonah asked, voice thick

and slurred.

“No. I sleep on a pile of straw in the

basement.”

Hands slid around to backs, came forward,

moved up, moved down. Dare fondled Jonah’s ass,

no longer resisting the impulse. Hell, he’d been

nursing it since that Sunday at the Zandt Pavilion.

Even through cloth, the feel of those pronounced

cheeks wired his nuts tight. With each pass of his

fingers, his dick pulsed petulantly.

“Take me there.” Jonah cupped Dare’s neck

and kissed it, worked his fingers under the hair at

Dare’s nape, nipped and sucked at the skin of his

throat. “I’m not afraid of mice.”

Moaning, Dare rolled his head to the side to

give Jonah more access. “Are you sure?”

Jonah’s lips slid into a smile against Dare’s

skin. “I used to have a pet mouse.”

“No, I mean… you’re certain you’re ready?”

They moved apart so they could talk, which wasn’t

easy with air in such short supply. Dare skimmed a

few fingers down Jonah’s cheek. Christ, his skin

was flawless. So were his eyebrows. Dare was

almost envious; he had to pluck his. “We don’t

need to rush into anything. We could sort of…

cuddle if you’d like. Maybe sleep together.
Just

sleep.”

“I don’t think that would work.”

A flurry of goose bumps made Dare tingle

from head to heels. Jonah closed in once more and

nuzzled his head against Dare’s. Their faces

turned. Their lips came together.

No mistaking
this
for a comfort kiss. Too

steamy and eager and disturbing… in the best

possible way. Jonah didn’t hold back and Dare

didn’t pull back, except to mumble, “Come with

me.”

He took Jonah’s hand and led him upstairs,

determined to exercise restraint. But it wasn’t

going to be easy.

They spun toward each other as soon as they

entered the room, clung and groped as they

undressed themselves and each other, crushed

more kisses onto moistening lips. Clothing seemed

to pull itself off—shirts suctioned into space, pants

tugged down by gravity. Where were their shoes

and socks? Dare couldn’t remember losing them.

“Hurry,” Jonah muttered.

Hopping and stumbling, Dare hurried as best

he could while kissing Jonah wherever he could.

He paused, mouth pressed against Jonah’s neck, to

feel the clamoring pulse, the gathering heat.

What was it about the first glide of flesh

against flesh that hit like the perfect opiate-

amphetamine mix? It was a sharp, dizzying thrill

that never repeated itself in quite the same way.

Dare made a thin, helpless sound as soon as he felt

the naked contours of Jonah’s body against his

body and beneath his hands. He could’ve come just

by drinking in the pools of scent behind Jonah’s

ears, or tracing the choreography of bones beneath

muscles and muscles beneath skin, or feeling the

eager jabs of Jonah’s cock.

Inarticulate with lust, they clung together for

endless minutes, kissing and fondling each other

while sputtering out gibberish—profanities and

invocations and praise.

“OhGodIlovethefeelofyou.”

“Iwantyousomuchwantedyouallalong.”

“YourcockissohardsofuckinghardIgottahaveit.”

Limbs weakened, they surrendered to the bed.

Its thick duvet embraced them. Dare leaned over

Jonah, who immediately reached for him.

“Time out,” Dare said, catching his hand.

“Why? For what?” Shallowly, Jonah’s chest

rose and fell as he breathed through his mouth.

“So I can look at you.”
And wonder how in

the

world

I

could’ve

ever

found

you

unremarkable.

“Look at me some other time.”

Smiling at his impatience, which was

certainly a sign of better things to come, Dare

chose not to listen. Instead he gazed at his new

lover,

stroking

appreciatively

instead

of

feverishly, and thought of that rose Jonah had

sniffed at the botanical gardens, its velvety texture

and gradations of blush. Jonah’s skin was like the

rose’s petals. His eyes were the color of its

leaves. Not that he was fragile as a flower. He

was a good two inches taller than Dare, all long

lines and sweeping curves, and, in spite of his lithe

slimness, felt sinewy tough. But the similarity still

stood.

Dare kissed him luxuriantly, taking time to let

the humid warmth and softness of lips on lips work

their subtle magic. A careful press, a languid

swipe of tongue, then more prolonged and deeper

contact. Delicious. Writhing beneath Dare’s

weight, Jonah groaned. He gripped Dare’s head,

speared fingers into his hair, sought more kisses.

“I could do this forever,” Jonah whispered.

“Something else we have in common,” Dare

replied, mouth to mouth.

Body slicked with sweat, Jonah kept

restlessly bending and straightening his legs and

rubbing himself, shoulders to shins, against Dare’s

body. The feel of Jonah’s arousal—not just the

scuffing and poking of his rigid cock, but definitely

that, too—was almost more than Dare could stand.

“Try to stop moving. You’ll make me come.”

“I want you to come. I want
me
to come.”

“Not yet. Let’s savor it.” Dare lowered his

head for another kiss—one hand affectionately

curled over the top of Jonah’s head, the other

bracketing half of his jaw—and Jonah acquiesced

by melting against him.

Dare stopped his flow of murmured words

and expressed his ardor through a quieter

language. He licked long, soft trails, marked by

kisses, across the span of Jonah’s shoulders, the

gentle rises and dips of his powdery-smooth chest,

the hollows of his armpits.

Jonah released fluttery moans and whimpers,

his skin shivering as his body twisted beneath

Dare’s touch. “You’re driving me crazy.”

The feeling was mutual. Dare’s dick

confirmed this with occasional pokes to Jonah’s

slender waist and hips. Dare felt so flushed and

tense, he thought he’d split down the center. Only

concentrated effort kept him from charging toward

climax.

Slow is best
, he kept reminding himself over

Jonah’s pleas.
Slow says,
“
I treasure you. And

this opportunity to let my senses delight in you.”

His hands took their own route, gliding down

the Silk Road of Jonah’s arms and sides, over the

shallow ridges of his ribs. But the dark, nestled

chevrons of hair that spread below Jonah’s navel

—those were for Dare’s mouth.

He stopped within the strangely soft delta of

public hair. It smelled of baby talc. Smiling, Dare

inhaled as he alternately nuzzled and plucked. His

fingers painted through the down on Jonah’s hard,

tapering thighs. Even though that roseate pole of a

cock jutted directly over his face, Dare did nothing

but tenderly kiss its base.

With a pained grunt, Jonah made a helmet of

his hand and clamped it over the head. His breaths

came hard and fast. At first Dare thought Jonah

was going to shoot, with all the explosive

spontaneity that a long stretch of celibacy can lead

to. If that happened, Dare knew he’d lose it too.

Jonah managed to hold off. He didn’t let go,

but when he shifted his hand to Dare’s cheek, his

palm was slick with fluid. Dare turned his face and

let the patch of moisture skim over his mouth.

“Oh Christ,” he whispered against it, tasting

it, and had to clench forcefully, mentally and

physically, to keep from gripping his own dick. A

moment’s squeeze-and-pump would bring relief.

To stave off temptation, he repositioned

himself and lifted Jonah’s legs over his

shoulders… and immediately wished he’d left

well enough alone. Jonah’s lust-saturated gaze

fixed on Dare’s torso. Dare’s gaze fixed on the

tightly packed weight of Jonah’s sac and the

shadowed slope that led to his ass. Another bolt of

excitement shot from deep within him, another

touch to a trigger Jonah could find without trying.

Not yet, not yet.

With fingertips and tongue, Dare traced the

bulging curvature of Jonah’s balls, beneath scrotal

skin stretched to a glossy sheen, and teased the

short track of his taint. His other hand,

uncontrollable, fondled that incomparable ass.

Jonah’s feel and smell and taste were slightly

different from one spot to another, and Dare had

been gathering them all within himself, fueling his

hormones the way a variety of shots enhanced

intoxication during a bar-hopping spree.

Sensory overload hazed his mind while

sharpening his arousal. Another drop formed at his

slit, then another. He was drunk on Jonah Day.

“Oh God, stop,” Jonah said on the thinnest

thread of breath.

The message took a while to travel from ears

to brain. Dazed, Dare eased off.

Jonah lowered his legs from Dare’s shoulders

and boosted himself up on the rumpled pillows.

“Do you have that oil?”

“What oil?”

“The stuff you had on at the club. I could tell

you had oil on your chest.”

Sluggishly, the fog began to dissipate. “Oh,

the cayenne-flavored oil. No, I only use it there.”

“Shit.”

“Why?” Smiling, Dare leaned forward and

wiped the sweat off Jonah’s forehead. They

continued to huff like wrestlers, and they hadn’t

even exerted themselves yet.

“Ever since those two guys in the audience….

I’ve had these fantasies…. Damn, I get excited

when I have them.”

The heat radiating from Jonah’s damp skin

bore testimony. Dare was feeling pretty toasty

himself. His balls drew tighter, as if seeking the