In Deep

by Bailey Bradford

  Titus shut down that train of thought and focused on making himself feel good. He tightened his grip on his cock and played with the bundle of nerves under the cap, making himself whimper.

  Hands, oh god, to have hands on me other than my own, holding me in place, holding me up, pushing fingers into me— Titus did just that, pushed two wet fingers into his ass, and gasped. Oh, but if they weren’t mine— He tried to bring up his fantasy man again. Those dark eyes would hold him still as sure as any hands ever would.

  Titus stroked his cock faster and moved his fingers inside himself, small thrusts, nothing too taxing on him considering how he was positioned and his limited reach.

  He thought of someone else, with better access, pushing deeper into him, stretching him wider with more fingers, a promise of everything in eyes so black that they would have smothered even the stars.

  Titus cried out. He wanted that, wanted to be consumed in lust by someone, with someone, for someone.

  But he wasn’t, and suddenly all that rushing pleasure he’d felt came crashing to a halt. Titus kept his eyes closed and tried to focus on his hands, his fingers, his cock and balls and ass—but when he finally came, he was underwhelmed by the experience.

  Goddamn it! He was lonely. He was tired of getting himself off. He was tired of being, much like Riveen’s maligned brother—Draven? Yeah, him—a stick in the mud.

  Riveen would have propositioned him, if Titus had given him a few more minutes. Titus had known it as sure as he’d known he was standing out on the beach, talking to a guy he didn’t particularly like.

  But did he have to like someone to fuck them? Normally, yes, he did. Titus shut the water off and stepped out of the shower stall. He sucked at one-night stands, or he had. Even so, surely getting off with a stranger would be better than a mediocre orgasm in the shower?

  After toweling off and brushing his teeth, Titus put on a good layer of deodorant—the humidity did him no favors in the sweating department—and left the bathroom. He found another pair of shorts to put on, but hesitated. What was he doing? It was late. He didn’t need to get dressed. There was nowhere to go.

  The tug of the beach pulled at his gut, but Titus ignored it. He didn’t want to risk running into Riveen. Not that a guy who looked as handsome as Riveen would be waiting around hoping to get laid by Titus.

  Titus snorted at himself. He was on vacation. Usually, he and Stacy just relaxed and ate out, hit up the beach. Maybe it was time to shake up his routine. Step out of his comfort zone.

  Get laid.

  Titus took a shaky breath, then made a decision. He was going to have a real vacation. A wild, crazy, sex-filled—well, okay, maybe just one sexual experience with someone else vacation to remember.

  He wasn’t going to be a stick in the mud, not for the next few days.

  Chapter Five

  “Oh-ho! Look who came out to play!”

  Titus winced and wished he didn’t have to turn around. He’d much rather ignore Riveen, pretend he didn’t hear him, but the club he was in was practically dead. Plus, Titus’ mom would have boxed his ears for being rude. His manners were firmly ingrained in him.

  That didn’t mean he spun around in a hurry. Go out, I tell myself. Have fun, get laid, be wild—and I run into the one man on the planet I know I would never be attracted to.

  Still, Titus plastered on a smile as he faced Riveen. “Hey, er, Riveen. How’s it going?”

  Riveen dog-whistled him and all but eye-fucked Titus at the same time. “Oh, yum yum! Don’t you look deliciously fuckable?”

  “You’re asking me?” Titus retorted, holding his bottle of beer a little tighter. He didn’t hate Riveen, didn’t know him well enough for any strong emotion, but he just wasn’t interested, despite the fact that Riveen was sex on two nicely muscled legs.

  Riveen giggled. “It was a rhetorical question, duh.” He gestured toward the dance floor. “It’s dead here tonight, but that just means we can dance until we drop, if you want.”

  Titus took a drink of his beer. He wanted to dance. In fact, he loved dancing. He just didn’t get to do it very often, not with another man.

  “Aw, come on, you’re gonna give me a complex,” Riveen wheedled. “I’m not asking to fuck, just dance. There’s only four other guys here, and one of them is my cousin, so he’s a no. The other three are into stuff I’m not.”

  Titus widened his eyes at Riveen. “There are things you aren’t into?”

  Riveen flipped him off while laughing. “Yes, there are, like not using condoms. I’m totally not into that, PrEP or not.”

  Titus shuddered. “Yeah, no.” He chugged the rest of his beer. Riveen was exaggerating—there were more people there, but not many. What would it hurt to dance with Riveen? As long as he was up front about everything. “Just dancing, though.”

  “Of course, St. Titus.”

  Titus probably should have been offended by that, but Riveen fluttered his lashes and was so outrageous in his enunciation, it was impossible to miss that he was joking.

  “Lead the way.” Titus nodded, wondering if Riveen was going to out-dance him. It was possible. Titus was rusty and he wasn’t an amazing dancer. He knew how to have fun…or he used to.

  Riveen whipped his phone from his pants pocket—Titus had no idea how the phone fit in that pocket to begin with. Riveen’s pants looked painted on. “Let me just send this—”

  Before Titus could object, Riveen took his picture.

  “Hey, what the hell?” Titus growled, trying to decide whether or not to yank the phone from Riveen’s hand. “You don’t just take a person’s photo without asking!”

  “Uh, I think it’s legal, but whatever.” Riveen shrugged. “It’s a safety precaution. Sent it to a friend. I don’t know you.”

  Titus would have snapped at Riveen some more, but he did have a point. Sort of. “We aren’t leaving here together. All we’re doing is dancing. That’s it. Nothing else.”

  Riveen sighed. “Fine. I’m a really excellent fuck, though. Bet I can change your mind.”

  Titus took a step back, shaking his head. “Listen to me, Riveen. I said no. I meant no.”

  Riveen actually blushed and ducked his head. “I didn’t mean I’d make you have sex with me. Jeez.”

  “Then accept that I absolutely won’t have sex with you, and we can dance.” Titus wondered why he was being so obstinate about this—himself, not Riveen. After all, hadn’t he promised himself a good time, and at least one sexual encounter? And here he had a man as handsome as Riveen all but spreading for him… Titus couldn’t make any sense of it.

  Riveen smiled. “Fine. Let’s dance. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  Titus followed him to the dance floor just as a song that was more bass than anything else began playing. Titus let the beat take him, let his body move and roll with the rhythm.

  He couldn’t help but notice that Riveen wasn’t a very good dancer. He shuffled and moved his hips, flapped his hands now and then. Titus was petty enough to find relief in Riveen not being perfect after all.

  Regardless of Riveen’s lack of talent, Titus danced with him through several songs. He was aware of more people joining them on the floor, of the sweat running down his own back, his forehead. Titus swiped at his brow and kept moving, almost closing his eyes, lost in the joy of dancing.

  Riveen’s not-so-soft curse snapped him out of that reverie.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Titus opened his eyes all the way and looked at Riveen, who was grinning like a lunatic and staring at another man.

  A tall, gangly man with thick, shoulder-length dark hair. Black or brown? Titus couldn’t tell in the disco-lighted club. He liked the loose-limbed way the man walked, the way he seemed to ignore everyone around him, as if he were alone in the building, except for the glare…that stern expression that was directed at Riveen.

  Titus stopped dancing. “You have a boyfriend you’re trying to make jealous?”

  Because Titus
would be fucked if he was going to get into a fight over Riveen.

  Riveen cackled and grabbed his hand. “Oh no, honey. That’s my brother, Draven. I didn’t think it would work, but what do you know? Here he is.”

  “What would work?” Titus asked, jerking his hand back. “What game are you playing?”

  Draven’s glance shifted to Titus, and even in the dim light, even with the distance, he could make out the brilliant green color of Draven’s eyes.

  Titus’ heart and dick thumped almost in synch with one another. Draven wasn’t perfectly handsome like Riveen. He was closer to average in looks, except for those gorgeous eyes.

  Titus had never seen eyes like that before.

  “My job here is almost done,” Riveen said. “It would have been totally done if you’d just held my hand.”

  Titus barely heard Riveen. He was too focused on Draven.

  And Draven showed no sign of seeing anyone else except Titus.

  Chapter Six

  Draven knew his brother was manipulating him, and yet, he’d been helpless to prevent it. From the moment Riveen had texted and sent him a photo of Titus looking sexier than sin and ready for fucking, Draven had been hooked by his brother’s scheme.

  Yes, Draven wanted Titus. And, damn it all, Riveen was insistent on provoking Draven into taking action.

  Riveen knew him too well. After the beach incident, Riveen had spent hours talking to anyone who would listen about how handsome and funny and sexy Titus was.

  And also talking to someone who didn’t want to hear it—Draven.

  Draven’s dreams had been filled with images of Titus. Not innocent ones, either.

  Even so, Draven had been determined to stay away from him.

  Then Riveen had sent the picture of Titus wearing black jeans that were so tight, they looked painted on. The shirt Titus wore accentuated his lean chest, and something in Titus’ expression had made him seem searching, hungry…although Draven was probably only projecting.

  Except now he didn’t think that was the case. Titus had stopped dancing, and Riveen, beaming like a fucking lunatic, shimmied his ass over to another man.

  Draven didn’t know what to say as he came to a halt in front of Titus.

  Titus gulped and twin streaks of pink blossomed on his cheeks. He glanced to where Riveen had been, then returned his gaze to Draven’s.

  “Want to dance?” Titus asked, his voice barely audible over the racket blaring through the speaker system.

  Draven nodded and decided to be bold. He wasn’t a blushing virgin.

  Well, Titus was blushing, but Draven didn’t think that meant he was a virgin either.

  Before he could let his brain babble on, Draven moved closer to Titus. He ignored the way his hand trembled as he dared to grip Titus’ hip.

  But he couldn’t ignore the way Titus gasped, or the heat coming off the man in waves. Draven slipped his other hand around to Titus’ back, his gaze still locked with Titus’, and with a tug, brought their bodies together.

  He’d seen Titus dance, the way Titus let the music flow through him, much like the way Titus’ need flowed into Draven.

  Draven’s cock began to harden within seconds. He ignored that unruly part and began to move with Titus, dancing close despite the fast tempo, at least until the song finished.

  Titus fit in his arms, against his body, like they were made for each other. The rigid press of Titus’ cock against Draven’s hip was proof that Draven’s lust was returned equally. He tightened his grasp on Titus’ hip and used his other hand to press Titus closer. Then they were grinding, together every other step before Draven spun Titus out—not far, because of course Riveen was in the way.

  Titus came back into Draven’s arms like a dream. As tempting as it was to hold on to him. Draven didn’t. Dancing was something Draven enjoyed and was good at, and Titus was his match on the floor.

  And likely in bed, or over the counter, or on the beach—

  Draven grunted and pushed aside the thoughts. He wanted—no, needed—this time, this freedom to be sensual and ride the rhythm of the music.

  Titus seemed to need it, too, smiling slightly as he kept in step with Draven.

  Then the music slowed, and Draven had Titus up against him again, this time with Titus’ back to his chest.

  Titus made a purring sound and leaned his head against Draven’s shoulder and ground his ass against Draven’s cock.

  Draven slipped both hands around Titus’ waist and teased at the band of his jeans. Despite the pants being so tight, they had enough stretch to them that Draven could slip his fingertips under that band, could feel hot skin, hard muscles and the brush of pubic hair.

  He pressed, encouraging Titus to grind faster against him. Draven bit back a gasp at the erotic heat that flicked up from his groin to spread throughout his body. He was dangerously close to coming in his pants.

  Even so, he wasn’t pushing Titus away. Draven worked his hands down a little farther and felt what he was seeking—the silky, hard ridge of Titus’ cock.

  Titus jolted and gasped before turning his head and sucking on Draven’s neck.

  Draven tensed, fighting the need to come. He wouldn’t lose his shit on the dance floor with Riveen gawking at them, and Draven knew Riveen was watching.

  Draven ran his fingertips over the wet tip of Titus’ cock. He canted his head and hoped Titus would hear him. “Take me home. I want to fuck you.”

  Draven didn’t doubt it was what Titus wanted as well, or some version of that. Draven was versatile—he’d bottom with pleasure for Titus.

  But Titus went still for a moment, and Draven wondered how he’d managed to so badly misread him.

  Then Titus shivered and made Draven’s heart beat again. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Seven

  “My place,” Titus suggested, so nervous that he was trying not to let his teeth chatter. He was hornier than he was nervous, though. “Unless yours is closer?” He was testing, seeing if Draven knew where he lived, too, because Riveen had mentioned a brother that night on the beach.

  Draven tugged him toward the club exit. “My house is across the street. Close enough?”

  “Across—” Titus knew his eyes were huge, but the homes across the street were beach-side mansions with the occasional vacation rental stilt-home here and there.

  “Yes.” Draven didn’t seem to be one for words, and Titus felt a flicker of worry that he was making a mistake by leaving with the man.

  Then Draven turned and looked over his shoulder, and the hot, molten need in his gaze annihilated Titus’ worries. Draven gave just the barest hint of a smile, and Titus would have followed him anywhere at that point.

  They exited the club, and Draven kept hold of Titus’ hand as they walked to the curb.

  “I’m not a danger to you,” Draven said. “You looked worried.”

  “I don’t do this,” Titus admitted, feeling himself blush. “I haven’t even, well…” Pride warred with honesty. “I haven’t even been with anyone in years, okay? So I’m—” Draven’s cupping his jaw startled him into silence.

  Titus looked into Draven’s jewel-bright eyes and went warm through and through. He forgot to breathe for a second, then exhaled slowly as Draven leaned in.

  The kiss was soft, chaste, a brush of lips, but Titus shivered and whimpered before he could stop himself.

  Draven rumbled, then used his grip on Titus’ head to tilt it slightly, and the kiss went from chaste to possessive, hot and searing as Draven licked into Titus’ mouth.

  Titus couldn’t have stopped himself from responding and moving closer if his life had depended on it—and considering where they were, it might have done so.

  Draven at least had the sense to keep the kiss short, because two men kissing in Texas, even in the area they were in, were at risk of harm. They both knew it. Draven rumbled again as he moved back. “When I get you home, I won’t stop with a kiss.”

  Jesus. You’d better not! Titus didn’t
trust himself to speak the words. He settled for a nod, then Draven and he checked for cars before they jogged across the roadway.

  And Titus suddenly felt young and foolish, carefree and daring, as if each step he took shed responsibilities and fears he’d carried for as long as he could remember.

  The memory of the last time he’d done anything sexually adventurous tried to creep in on his joy, but Titus kicked it aside. He’d been held down by that weight for years. He was tired of being uptight and not living life to its fullest.

  And he really wanted to have sex with Draven.

  Who led him to one of the stilted beach houses rather than a mansion. Titus sighed in relief. “Thought you were a billionaire or something there for a minute. Not that these stilted places are cheap, but—”

  “My family has owned property here for generations,” Draven said. “We’ve always lived by the water.”

  “Must be nice.” Titus smiled to show he wasn’t being snarky.

  Draven’s gaze went right to his mouth. “Convenient.” He tugged Titus in front of him. “After you.”

  Titus was at the base of the wooden steps. He knew Draven would be ogling his ass, and that was fine with Titus. He started up the steps and heard Draven curse.

  Titus chuckled. It was so good to be wanted, lusted after, seen.

  Draven’s footsteps sounded behind him as Titus hit that middle of the stairway. He sped up and laughed when Draven did the same. By the time he reached the landing, Draven was all but on him.

  A second later, Draven had Titus in his arms and had spun him around. Titus’ back hit the door with Draven’s hands cushioning the blow. Draven sucked Titus’ bottom lip, and Titus clutched at him and moaned.

  When he made that needy sound, Draven slipped his tongue inside Titus’ mouth and white-hot lust sparked along every nerve ending in Titus’ body. He curled his hands into fists, grabbing handfuls of Draven’s shirt, then pulled, jerking it from his pants.