Page 38 of Gunpowder

This being the aching erection straining against his boxers just from the thought of Wren kissing him.

Blair wanted to do more than kiss him. He wanted Wren to make good on the promises his hands made when they pulled Blair closer. Blair dug his fingers a little harder into his thigh. The ceiling fan was no longer helping the flush of heat from creeping down his body. He moved his hand up to press it down against his cock, as if he could get rid of his erection by force.

His earlier fatigue was being steadily erased, drowned out by something hot and urgent. “Shit,” Blair said under his breath, sliding his hand into his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around himself and imagined Wren’s long, dexterous fingers instead. Wren probably wouldn’t start stroking right away, like Blair was doing. No, he’d probably be a damn tease, but Blair was too desperate for relief. He gripped the pillow above his head, breath falling out of rhythm as pleasure sparked through his body.

Blair wondered how Wren looked under his clothes, if there would be hard planes of muscle or soft flesh that gave way under Blair’s touch. He didn’t know which thought turned him on more. He didn’t think it mattered, as long as it was Wren, with his cobalt eyes and raspy voice—god, that voice. Blair didn’t think he’d ever had a kink for anything in particular before but he was starting to think he had one for Wren’s voice. God save him if Wren ever found out.

“Fuck,” he breathed, precome welling under his fingers at the thought of Wren talking him through it, lips dragging over Blair’s ears as he pushed him to the edge with hands that were as well suited to offering respite as they were ruin.

“You like that, don’t you Blair?” he could hear Wren whisper into his ear.

He did. He wanted, he craved more of that fire that flared up inside him when they touched.

“Then take it. Why are you holding back if it’s what you want?”

It was a damn good question. There was no real reason to deny what they both wanted, except that childish fear of venturing into the unknown. He always felt out of control when Wren was involved and he was as terrified of it as he was addicted. His stomach tightened, imagining the weight of Wren’s tall body on top of him. He sped up the movements of his hand, spreading his precome down the length of his cock. He didn’t even need the lube in the nightstand drawer that he usually used for the rare instances when he got himself off.

A shrill sound next to him startled him out of his thoughts, and almost startled his heart out of his fucking chest. His eyes flew open to see his phone lit up on the nightstand. He swore if it was Spencer he was finally going to break his self-imposed laws of respect and go off on him. However, his anger was doused and replaced with dread as soon as he looked at the caller ID. Oh, come on. No. Not now. Blair’s cock jumped at the sight of Wren’s name on the screen.

He probably (definitely) needed to ignore it and say he’d been in the shower or something, but Wren had taken time to call him even with his schedule being so packed. Blair couldn’t just ignore him because he felt like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He answered the call and put his phone on speaker on the nightstand, still breathing too heavily to trust having it right against his ear; Wren would have a field day if he realized what Blair was doing.

“Hey,” Blair said, hoping he sounded more composed than he felt.

“Hey.”

Blair almost cursed out loud, his hand tightening involuntarily around his cock. Fuck, this was a bad idea. “How was the hospital?”

“Torture. I think every patient I saw today made it their sole purpose in life to give me a migraine.”

“Doesn’t everyone give you a migraine?”

“Not… everyone,” Wren muttered, then added, “Did I wake you up?”

Blair’s hand had started moving again without his brain’s permission, but he didn’t really fight it, too focused on walking the tightrope between drowning in Wren’s voice and actually hearing what he was saying. “N-No, I’m just a little tired. Sorry if I sound out of it. Keep talking.” Please.

At least if Wren heard the strain in his voice, he was either too tired or uncharacteristically merciful enough not to mention it. “Do you have any formalwear?”

Blair was glad for the subject change, but he did have to scramble to give a coherent answer. “Um. I might have my suit from prom, but it probably doesn’t fit anymore.” His arms weren’t overly bulky, but he knew he’d put on too much muscle for that suit jacket from prom not to cut off circulation somewhere.

“I’ll get you something. If you don’t have plans then I’m picking you up for dinner tomorrow.”

God, he was so fucked. The thought of Wren in a suit made the coiling heat in his stomach wind even tighter. “Sounds good.” Blair was pretty sure he heard the rumble of a coffee maker in the background, so he could only hope the sound covered the slight cracking in his voice.

“Do you think you can manage wearing a shirt with buttons and spending more than an hour in a city where you can’t throw a rock and hit any Incindious graffiti?”

Blair sucked in a deep breath as he skirted dangerously close to the edge. “I think I can manage, smartass.”

“Tomorrow, then. I’ll be there around five.”

“Yeah.” Blair pressed his head back against the pillow, his hand losing its rhythm on his cock. “Great.”

“See you then, Blair.”

Dialtone rung out and for once Blair couldn’t be more relieved that Wren had no concept of saying goodbye at the end of a call, because he was done after hearing Wren say his name, his name that he used to hate but had started to love hearing Wren say, enough to make his hips snap up as he spilled over his fist. He groaned as his orgasm crashed over him in waves, each one taking him deeper than the last. His vision whited out and his mind was empty of everything except pleasure and Wren.

Once he came down, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling. His sense returned to him little by little, and with it came the realization of what he’d agreed to.

A fancy date. With Wren. And no idea where they were going.

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