Page 83 of College Town

“You got so pretty.” Lawson spreads his hands out wide across his chest, and then slides fingertips slowly along the groove between each rib. “You’ve always been pretty. And cute.” Lawson smiles as he traces his abs, and watches his stomach suck in sharply in response. “You’re still cute.” His thumbs dive down into those V-lines he felt before, and he marvels at the deep shadows there, the leanness of his waist. “But now you’re grownup pretty.”

“Shit,” Tommy groans, hips undulating forward, chasing the touch. “You, too.”

“Yeah?” Lawson chuckles. “Not like you, though.”

“No.” Tommy rocks forward suddenly, swoops in and kisses him again. They’re both shirtless now, bare chest to bare chest, and it’s electrifying. Tommy kisses him hard, bites at his mouth, and then murmurs against it. “You’re so hot.Fuck.” His hands rake down over Lawson’s chest; he pulls back just far enough to get his hands between them, to grip and tug at his dusting of chest hair. “When I saw you in that coffeeshop, in your stupid polo shirt…fuck me, I was, I was…”

Lawson smiles into the next kiss, smitten. “You were what?”

In a tumbling rush, Tommy says, “I wanted to suck your dick and see if it got as fucking huge as the rest of you.”

Lawson draws back and sees that his eyes are shut, brows drawn together. He looks pained. He’s beautiful.

“Well.” He takes one of Tommy’s hands in his and draws it downward, pulls it under the blanket and into his lap. “I’ve got some good news for you, cowboy.”

Tommy’s hand grips him through the thin cotton, and he lets out a harsh breath like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Fuck. Oh, fuck you, asshole.” His brow is pleated like he’s frowning, but his mouth curves up into a feral smile.

“Nah. Other way around if you’ll let me.”

“Yes.”

Tommy kisses him again, and it gets filthy. Tongues sliding over one another, too much spit, noses mashed into cheeks.

Lawson lets himself get lost in it for a minute. But if he lets it go on like this, with Tommy feasting on his mouth and tugging on his cock, it’ll all be over without them ever getting near the main event.

Lawson eases him back, rubbing soothingly along his ribs with both hands when he makes a protesting sound. “I don’t have anything,” he says with true regret. “Since…”You snatched me out of a parking lot with just the clothes on my back. That would ruin the mood. He finishes, “You got lube? A condom?”

Tommy blinks at him, slack-jawed, already fucked out before they’re even started. Shit. Lawson wants to wreck him.

Finally, Tommy gathers the wits to say, “Oh. Yeah.” He fishes into the pocket of his sweats and comes out with a bottle and a foil packet, the latter of which he considers for a moment, then chucks off the bed.

“Uh…” Lawson lifts his brows.

“It won’t fit you,” Tommy says, shifting on his lap like he’s trying to get closer. “And I don’t want it.”

Lawson’s heart is racing. Holy shit, holy shit. “You sure?”

Tommy kisses him in answer. Thoroughly, deeply, leaving no question. It’s a kiss that ends with a wet pop, and Lawson’s plan to saylie down, babydies on his tongue.

He takes him by the hips instead and rolls them. Presses Tommy down into the rumpled sheets, head on the pillow he was using just minutes ago. Has it been only minutes? It feels like they’ve crossed a distance of weeks since Tommy laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh,” Tommy says, staring up at him with something like wonder. Twenty years, and growth spurts for both of them – Lawson more so – facial hair, and sun lines, and the shadows of fatigue have marked them both, but in this moment, Tommy looks exactly like he did at seventeen.Oh. Gazing up at him with naked wonder and longing the first time Lawson laid him down.

Oh, Lawson’s heart echoes, a painful squeeze. The enormity of what they’re doing, of what this once meant to him, and means to him still, hits him from behind like a football tackle. Leaves him weak and shaking. He might swoon. Tonight is going toruinhim.

He gives himself a firm mental slap, hooks his hands in the waist of Tommy’s sweats, and yanks them down to his ankles in one sharp tug.

Tommy’s not wearing underwear, and his cock springs free, already shiny at the tip where he’s leaking.

“Fuck,” Lawson says, flat with surprise. “You slut.”

Tommy kicks the pants the rest of the way off. “Shut up.” But he spreads his legs in a deliberate, goading way, and wraps a hand around his cock. “Are you gonna do anything or what?” The flare of New York in his sex-rough voice makes Lawson grin.

“Sure, sure. But that” – he gestures to his pose, the way he’s stroking himself – “isn’t disproving the whole slut thing, honey.”

“Bite me.”

“With pleasure, but later. Right now you look like you want to get fucked.”

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