Page 80 of The Play

Still, it was pretty satisfying to see Grant’s jaw drop.

“Have you been—this whole time?” he asked with a quiet gasp as Deacon’s cock, as hard as he’d ever been in his life—screw you, mid-thirties, he felt like a goddamn teenager again—sprang out of his open jeans.

Deacon shrugged. “Maybe.”

Grant’s eyes went dark and hazy. Deacon wanted to make him look like that a hundred times. A thousand. “If I’d known you went commando, I’d have—”

“You’d have done what?” Deacon was genuinely curious.

“This,” Grant said and pulled his jeans the rest of the way off, and before Deacon could figure out what exactly this was, it was happening.

Grant was straddling his lap, slicking up his cock with his lube-covered fingers. “I’ve been tested, recently,” he said, teasing Deacon until his eyes nearly crossed with the pleasure of just his touch. “You?”

“No, I’m uh . . .I’m good,” Deacon agreed.

There’d been nobody he wanted to do this with. Not for a long time.

Not that he’d been celibate, but it had been longer than anybody would probably imagine for him.

“I’m gonna uh . . .not . . .” Deacon ground out as Grant braced a hand on his chest, and began to grind down on his cock, both of them groaning as it slipped into Grant’s hole.

“It’s okay. I just want you to feel good. So feel good,” Grant said in a hushed whisper and leaned forward, brushing his mouth against Deacon’s.

Good was an understatement of the century.

Grant was tight and hot and kept doing this thing with his hips, making pleasure spike through him, splintering his control into too many pieces. He squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed.

But Grant’s hand was on his cheek, cupping him. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t look away.”

Deacon wanted to shake his head, feeling the inevitable rush of his oncoming orgasm. Not wanting to surrender to it, because that would mean the first time, the very first time, would be over.

“Come on,” Grant murmured in that coaxing way of his that always made Deacon want to follow, no matter what it was, no matter what it cost.

He planted his feet and thrust upwards as Grant fucked downward and God, it was even better. He felt like he was going to explode right out of his skin, and then Grant leaned in and kissed him one more time.

And that was all it took.

Deacon’s orgasm didn’t just happen, it overtook him.

When he finally emerged from it, legs still shaky from the intensity of it, Grant was still there, inches away, those glowing green eyes still happy.

“I . . .uh . . are you okay?” Deacon asked. He’d probably gotten a little wild there at the end. He’d lost himself, in a way that he normally didn’t.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt Grant, who’d given him all that gorgeous pleasure selflessly.

“Never better,” Grant said. He smiled, his lips tilting up. “I’m afraid we’re about to make a mess.”

“It was worth it,” Deacon said.

Grant’s head tilted bashfully. “Yeah?”

“You were really okay doing that, right after you came . . .” Deacon trailed off. Aware, now that he was really thinking about it, that it was the hottest thing in the world, that Grant had still wanted to fuck, even after his own orgasm.

“I like it, no matter what,” Grant admitted. “And it’s hard to do, with the life I lead. I don’t trust many people. And I never wanted anyone the way I wanted you.”

“Wanted?” Deacon asked, before he could stop himself.

“Want.” Grant chuckled as he lifted himself, his biceps clenching and making something unfurl in Deacon’s stomach. He didn’t know how he could possibly still be hot for the guy, after what had just happened. But he was. It was undeniable.

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