Page 101 of The Play

“Yeah?” Grant was surprised to hear how gravelly and rough his own voice sounded.

Deacon’s hand cupped his cheek. “I was having a really fucking great dream, and then I wake up and find out it’s not even a dream.”

His throat tightened with emotion and he tilted his head up, meeting Deacon’s mouth as he leaned down.

It would be so easy to get lost in his kiss. To just keep kissing until his neck cramped. But he’d had other plans, and he intended to see them through.

Grant broke the kiss and kept up his meandering pace down towards Deacon’s dick, clearly hard, even in the loose denim of his jeans.

“Oh, God, yeah,” Deacon groaned, and his fingers tangled in Grant’s hair as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, tugging them off. Taking in the gorgeous view of Deacon’s powerful, thick thighs, and his big dick, pressing against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

Grant glanced up, meeting Deacon’s stare. “Underwear tonight?”

Deacon grinned, one corner of his lips tilting up in amusement. “Maybe I thought you’d make me squirm and wait til after dinner for relief. So I thought, better be prepared. Luckily for me, you couldn’t wait either.”

“You know, I was sitting right here, in this chair, last night,” Grant murmured as Deacon traced his face with his fingertips.

Watched as Deacon’s eyes darkened even more. “Really?”

“Right here,” Grant said, patting the cushion. “And all I thought about today, all day, through every single meeting when my mind wandered even for a second, was getting you in this chair and doing exactly this.”

He leaned down and was rewarded with another deep groan of Deacon’s as he pulled his underwear down. His cock bobbed out, finally free of its underwear prison, and Grant licked a stripe up the underside.

He’d gotten a brief taste of Deacon’s cock the other night, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. Settling down between Deacon’s legs, he let it slip between his lips, curling his tongue around the head and sucking hard.

If losing himself in the feel of Deacon’s skin and the muscles shifting underneath it was easy, it was nothing compared to how simple it was to just give himself over to this. To the motion of dip and retreat, to the slide of Deacon’s cock in and out of his mouth, taking it as deep as he dared—which still didn’t feel deep enough.

He wanted more, he wanted it all. But Deacon was big, and Grant was out of practice.

Of course, it wasn’t like Deacon wasn’t enjoying himself. A litany of moans and nonsense words of approval kept falling out of his mouth, and then his thighs tensing and relaxing as he tried to hold back.

He let Deacon’s cock slip out of his mouth. “Someday,” he said, voice rough with desire, “you’re gonna fuck my mouth.”

“Jesus, you can’t say shit like that, not when I’m so close,” Deacon said, panting. A faint sheen of sweat covered his face, his temples damp with it, and Grant realized just how horny he was. How hot this had made him. How seeing Deacon like this, totally at his mercy, made him just about as hard as he’d ever been in his life.

“Are you?”

“Close?” Deacon shot him a hot look. “Baby, if you did any better, I’d have already come down your throat.”

Grant swallowed hard, like what Deacon had predicted had already come to pass.

He had other plans, so he couldn’t fulfill that particular desire—but he could fulfill another one.

He stood, his knees wobbling, and Deacon looked surprised as he settled down on his lap. His cock brushed against Deacon’s abs, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not just mindlessly rub against this man’s skin. To stop this test of control and just give himself up to the pleasure.

But he wanted more. He always wanted more.

Deacon’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he positioned his cock under his hole, rubbing the head back and forth a handful of times, making them both groan.

“Did you—” Deacon stopped and then swore as Grant’s body dropped down an inch and then two, slowly enveloping him.

He’d done the bare minimum of prep, as quickly as he could, before Deacon could wake up and Grant would lose the element of surprise, but if they went slow, it would be fine.

“Yeah,” Grant said, trying to breathe through the stretch.

“God, that’s the hottest thing ever,” Deacon said, and his fingers dug into the arms of the chair, his forearms flexing. Trying, Grant imagined, to control the urge to just thrust. To just take.

Grant wanted that, too. Wanted to sit on Deacon’s lap and let him send him right over the edge, but he needed a minute first.

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