Page 56 of Refraction

“Stop that.” His keys were in his coat pocket, but he pretended he couldn’t find them, just to make his tiger wait. He ducked away again, playfully refusing an advance on his neck. “Hang on.”

“You’ll not say that when I trim my beard, honey. You’ll want it.” Tucker’s chuckle tickled his neck.

The man had a point. He tried not to let out his moan, but he had a better chance of being struck by lightning. “You sure your fingers are steady enough? They seem to be itching.”

He pulled out his fucking keys.

“I’m sure. For you, they can be anything.”

Nope. Not going to kiss him. He’d lose the whole game if he turned around and mauled Tucker in the hallway. But it was really hard not to. He stuck his key in the lock, but it slid right back into his hand when Timmy opened the door.

“You two better come in before you scandalize Mrs. Papadakis down the hall. You’ve probably seared her retina through the peephole.”

“Oh, hey, Timmy.”

“Are you two drunk?”

“Nope, I had pizza.”

“Wow, nice work feeding Toothpick, Texas. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I’m a miracle worker.” Tucker’s hands were trying to drive him out of his mind.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Was having trouble finding my keys.”

Timmy snorted. “Always here to help.”

He rushed off toward the bedroom, Tucker right on his heels. “Door. Door.” He pointed. He had to; he couldn’t get around his lover. Tucker suddenly seemed to be everywhere. Fuck, that was hot.

“Uh-huh. Door. Bed. Floor. I’m easy.” Tucker nibbled his earlobe. “I want you, honey. I want everything.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Uh. I got it.” It was a good thing Timmy had no shame either.

He was on fire. He unzipped his coat and tossed it and all his other winter gear away. He wasn’t sure if Tucker was trying to help or just get those impatient hands under his sweater, so he tugged that over his head too. The rough front of Tucker’s jacket rubbed up against his bare chest, which was way hotter than it ought to be.

“Fuck, honey.” Tucker’s hands dragged over his back, one ending at the nape of his neck to pull him in and crush their mouths together.

He knew how needy that sound was, that high-pitched one that Tucker just forced from him and swallowed. That thing he’d been thinking earlier, about not being able to get close enough? This is what he meant. It was fingers and lips everywhere. It was wanting so bad it was impossible to know where to start. It was a cock so hard he could come if he thought about it enough. If he could think at all.

Calvin reached out and got his fingers around Tucker’s belt, pulling their hips together too.

Tucker needed as bad as he did, hips rocking in a perverse dance that promised to make him dizzy. Filthy, wanton words poured over him, praise and need and pleasure. It was like being in the center of Tucker’s painting.

Oh, that image was so impossibly real it made him groan, and Tucker’s voice along with it…fuck.

“Ache so bad for you, tiger.”

He tugged hard on Tucker’s belt buckle because he really couldn’t have the bruise it was threatening to leave on his abs, and shifted the clasp around in his fingers until it miraculously came undone somehow. With a little more blind fumbling, he managed to get them over to his bed, where he pulled his eager lover down on top of him roughly and rolled his hips right up into Tucker’s.

Tucker rocked back, devouring his mouth with wild, needy kisses that had teeth. “Damn, you too. I want more skin.”

Still, neither of them slowed, and hell, Tucker was way more dressed than he was.

More skin. That was what Tucker wanted. Okay. He reached out and shoved his leggings and briefs down to bare his hips just as Tucker thrust against him. Rough denim dragged across his sensitive parts. His eyes closed tight, and he saw streaks of light behind them as his balls drew up and his cock screamed at the abrasion. “Tucker!”

Jesus Christ, that was fucking awesome.

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