Page 102 of The Play

“Did you sit here in this chair last night and think about doing this?” Deacon murmured, leaning forward, lips brushing Grant’s ear. “Just like this?”

“Yes,” Grant said, groaning. He gave another experimental thrust down, and finally his thighs connected to Deacon’s, every inch of his cock inside him now.

“Goddamn it,” Deacon ground out. “You gotta, I’m gonna—”

“I got you,” Grant said and moved a little. Lost himself to the way it felt, so tight, but so right.

“Come on, baby, fuck me good,” Deacon said. Then kissed him.

It felt like the most natural thing Grant had ever experienced to sink into the feel of Deacon’s mouth on his, Deacon’s cock inside him, moving easily in and out now. His cock kept bumping up against Deacon’s abs, smearing them with precome, and Grant found the edge so much quicker than he’d imagined he might.

One of Deacon’s hands had gone to his neck, holding him down, holding him in place, and the other to his hip, gripping him. One second it was gentle and sweet. And then the next they were racing to the finish line in a sweaty, frantic explosion of movement, their bodies crashing together.

Grant moaned into Deacon’s mouth as he exploded, painting their skin with stripes of come, and Deacon bellowed a second later, shaking beneath him.

Grant collapsed onto Deacon’s chest, knees giving out entirely.

“Fuck,” Deacon exhaled in a sharp breath.

“That was . . .” Grant’s lips found Deacon’s neck. The skin there was damp with sweat and felt so freaking perfect against his mouth.

Deacon’s arm wound its way around him, and Grant only had a moment to register his coiled strength before he was lifting him and standing, cock still buried inside him, and he walked them right into the bathroom, setting Grant onto the counter, slipping out of him.

A second later, before Grant could even find something to clean himself with, Deacon appeared with a handful of tissues.

“Thanks,” Grant said bashfully. Fantasies always felt really hot in your own mind, before confronted by the realities—and the inherent messiness of sex.

“It’s the least I could do,” Deacon admitted. “The very least. Especially when I think you blew my mind right out my ears. I’m not sure I’m ever going to be the same after that.”

Grant could agree with him on that point. He’d believed that the other night had been some of the best he’d ever had—but tonight, they’d left merely good sex far behind them.

He got the worst of the mess cleaned up and glanced over at the shower. “I’m actually going to hop in real quick,” he said, gesturing towards it. “You wanna heat up dinner?”

Deacon raised an eyebrow. “You seem very certain of my capabilities.”

Grant patted him on the cheek as he hopped down from the counter. Flipped the water on in the shower. “I promise—I think you’re very capable of heating up food in the microwave. The chef left instructions on top of the containers, and they’re all in the fridge.”

“I got it,” Deacon said.

Grant took a fast shower, but even though he’d been quick about it, by the time he re-entered the living area of his apartment, Deacon had re-dressed—not entirely, his jeans weren’t completely fastened, and his shirt flapped open, giving Grant a few tantalizing glimpses of his stomach and abs—and not only had the food heating, but he’d found a lighter and had lit all the candles Grant had asked to be scattered throughout the place.

“Hey,” Grant said, leaning against the counter. “See? Told you that you were capable.”

“The only thing I’m missing are a dozen red roses,” Deacon said, coming over and pressing a kiss against his mouth.

Would he ever get used to the fact that they could do this now? That Deacon wanted him, as much as Grant wanted him back? Or the undeniable love in Deacon’s eyes as he bent down?

Probably not.

But then, the best way to kill something dead was to take it for granted.

“Darcy did suggest some rose petals scattered on the bed, but I told her we’d do just fine there without them,” Grant said.

“And here we didn’t even make it to the bed,” Deacon teased. He trailed fingertips down Grant’s t-shirt he’d thrown on, along with his favorite pair of gray sweatpants. “Though I’m all for making another effort later.”

“Later,” Grant agreed. He still felt like his brain was partially blown out from how intense his orgasm had been. But even despite that, his blood heated up again at the thought of coming together like that again.

“Dinner first,” Deacon said, waving towards the two place settings at the island. “Sit down. Let me bring it to you when it’s done.”

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