Page 61 of Famous Last

Before Spencer had a chance to finish, Marshall had scooped him up into his arms and pulled him close, his arms tightening around him, his head thrust against Spencer’s neck.

“Spencer,” he murmured in his ear. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Spencer put his arms around Marshall and tightened the embrace, inhaling the man. Both hung on like that for a long moment, Spencer’s feet almost off the ground. After a second, Spencer felt one of Marshall’s hands caress his back and land on his backside, squeezing gently. With Marshall’s body crushed against his own, Spencer’s heart began to race, blood flowing straight to his cock.

“Marshall,” whispered Spencer, barely able to breathe. “Hate to spoil the moment, but you’re crushing my croissants.”

Marshall began to chuckle and loosened his grip, allowing Spencer to regain his feet.

“What’s with the holdall? Are you moving in?”

“That’s my work suit and clothes. Am I being presumptuous this time?” said Spencer, peering hopefully at Marshall. “Or is that going to be okay?”

“As if you need to ask,” said Marshall, reaching down and taking the bag. “Follow me.”

Along a short, blue Oriental-carpeted corridor, Marshall’s apartment opened into a spacious lounge. Three matching sofas in soft shades of light and dark blue surrounded a predominantly white marble fireplace with gold flecks. A large flatscreen television fixed to the wall showed a news channel. All the walls, curtains, cushions and vases followed a blue-and-white theme. Everything sat perfectly in place. Even the large paintings of ships and seascapes complemented the colourscheme, and Spencer felt as though he had just walked into an interior design set befitting an edition ofCollective.

“Do you rent this place?”

“Sort of,” said Marshall, reaching for the remote on the gold-topped coffee table and silencing the programme. Only the pink mug on the table and the various newspapers strewn across one settee implied someone in residence.

“Furnished?” asked Spencer.

“Yes,” said Marshall with a chuckle, dropping Spencer’s holdall and suit holder onto one sofa. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, if you don’t mind me saying—and even though the place is classy and toasty-warm—the décor’s a little cold. Doesn’t match what I know about you. I would have expected at the very least wooden bookcases stuffed with all manner of literary classics, biographies and journals. And maybe photos and souvenirs scattered around from your travels. Although, in all honesty, I don’t know you that well—”

“You tagged me perfectly, actually,” said Marshall, who had already begun laughing as Spencer talked. Grinning still, he sat down and patted the seat cushion next to him. “You’ve just described the living room in my house outside Cambridge. The truth is that my father owns this place and has asked me to stay here while he’s looking for a buyer. I usually spend my evenings here after work and there’s no point in personalising the space. And, yes, you’re quite right. It is a little cold and formal—a lot like my father. But now you’re here maybe you could help me warm the place up.”

Spencer didn’t hesitate. After dropping the brown bag onto the coffee table, he unzipped and removed his hoodie before hurrying across the room to stand over a seated Marshall. Lowering himself down so that his knees went either side of Marshall’s waist, Spencer squeezed his arms along the back of the sofa behind Marshall’s neck and brought their foreheadstogether. Warm hands clamped onto and caressed Spencer’s backside.

“I’ve missed you,” said Spencer, staring into fathomless brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer, I—”

“No,” said Spencer, placing a forefinger over Marshall’s lips. “No apologies. Not in words, anyway. If you’ve missed me, too, you can show me how much.”

They had only kissed a couple of times before, and only tentatively, but the memories had been scorched into Spencer’s brain. This time neither held back. Hunger met hunger, lips pressing together, mouths opening and tongues dancing to an urgent rhythm. Deep inside Marshall, a groan erupted, and his arms tightened around Spencer’s waist, pulling him closer. Their bodies moulded together, Spencer’s knees crushed into the back of the couch, not that he cared because his solid hard-on collided with Marshall’s equally stiff and substantial cock. Spencer removed one of his hands from around Marshall’s neck and reached between them, rubbing his palm the length of Marshall’s erection and receiving a deep growl in reply.

“Spencer, I need you,” Marshall whispered hoarsely.

“That’s kind of why I’m here.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me.”

Marshall breathed out a hot, relieved sigh into Spencer’s neckline.

“Thank God. Hang onto my neck.”

Spencer did as asked and Marshall rose from the sofa carrying him. Spencer couldn’t help letting out a small yelp of delight as they crossed the room and entered through a doorway. Just inside, Marshall leant forward and lowered Spencer gently onto a huge mattress. When Spencer turned his head, he saw a mound of plush pillows and throw cushions aligned perfectly atthe headboard. But his attention came straight back when hands began expertly pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. Cool air invaded his midsection—but not for long. Marshall had lowered himself down between Spencer’s legs and now eyed his erection with feral hunger.

“God, Spencer. Every single thing about you is beautiful.”

Spencer pulled his top off completely, before dragging a pillow over and placing the soft fabric under his head so he could watch Marshall take him apart. Every action, every moment of concentration—when Marshall maintained eye contact while caressing him—had Spencer’s heart racing with desire and other parts of his body catching up to respond.

Hot kisses and breath on Spencer’s genitals had his cock straining with anticipation, gooseflesh springing up on his arms and legs, but the subsequent tongue smoothing wetly up the underside of his shaft brought him very close to orgasm.

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