by Jayce Ellis
He ran a finger over Carlton’s lower lip, and Carlton groaned. No matter what fibs he’d told Jaq and Lawrence, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten laid. Taking care of Trey, easy as that had been, had thrown his entire world off its axis, really made him reconsider what he wanted to do, and who he wanted to do it with. And hell, before that, sex had been sporadic at best. He’d given up on the idea of finding someone long term. No one he’d met had moved him, not the way Deion had from their very first meeting.
“You’re thinking real hard,” Deion whispered.
Carlton nodded. “Yeah.”
“Wanna tell me what about?”
“About what it’s taken for us to get here.”
Deion blew out a long breath and swiped his tongue across his lips, his hands traveling down from Carlton’s neck, over his shoulders, and down his arms. He squeezed Carlton’s hand. “It’s been a long road,” he agreed.
“Worth it?”
“To have you? Yes.”
Carlton couldn’t breathe. Those words, so deep, so heartfelt. So...real. He wanted this to be real, more than he’d dared let himself admit. But Deion had said nothing about staying, hadn’t agreed to stay until he asked. Carlton wasn’t sure he could chance it. Not yet.
Instead, he cupped the back of Deion’s neck and pressed their lips together, firmer than on the couch, leaving no mistake as to what he wanted. Deion opened for him immediately, squeezing his hand before dropping one and trailing his fingers down the front of Carlton’s shirt, to cup his dick through his pants.
Carlton broke off with a grunt. “Goddamn, D. Forgot how good you feel.”
Deion grinned, a satisfied little thing, and pulled him closer again. For a few moments, they just stood there, exploring each other with their mouths and hands, letting themselves indulge in the twenty-year buildup to get back to this place.
When his need became too great, Carlton let one hand travel to Deion’s ass, cupping him softly and moving him backward to the bed. He laid Deion down and rested his body on top of him. “Turn over,” he whispered.
Deion grunted but did as he asked, and Carlton took his first good look at him like this. Full lips even more swollen, those dark brown eyes nearly black, his pupils were so dilated, his locs loosened from the braid they’d been in earlier, splaying around his shoulders. Goddamn, he was beautiful.
And he...was Carlton’s best friend. Not some hookup, not just a guy he was going to fuck. He couldn’t treat Deion the same way.
Carlton rocked back on his haunches, thinking. How callous had he seemed, telling Deion to turn over like that? He’d sounded, even to his own ears, like he was only here to get his rocks off. And even though he prided himself on making his partner come, that wasn’t enough, was it?
Relationship sex was supposed to be deeper, more meaningful, right? That’s what all the books said, and the magazines, and everything else Carlton couldn’t think of now but knew was out there, said. And here he was, treating his best friend like any old random Joe Schmoe he’d found in the streets.
Fuck. He sat back and ran a hand over his face.
Deion pushed up to his elbows and looked over his shoulder, concern lacing his face. “Carlton, what’s wrong?”
He couldn’t answer. His dick, hard and raring to go just a few moments before, hung limply against his thigh. Deion noticed immediately, and his frown deepened.
“Carlton. Baby, are you okay?”
And here Deion was, calling him baby. Treating him like this relationship was something more than Carlton taking advantage of an honest misunderstanding to get the thing he’d spent the past week wanting and being too chickenshit to ask for. Bloody hell, no wonder Deion’s mom hated him. And here he was, about to do something he knew meant something to Deion, and had planned to treat it like just another fuck.
The touch on his neck startled him, and he stumbled off the bed.
Deion held his hands up. “Sorry, man. It’s just, I didn’t even know if you’d heard me. You weren’t responding at all. What just happened?”
Carlton’s laugh was almost panicked, and Deion’s eyes widened in alarm. “Nothing. Nothing happened. I just, I just can’t do this.”
There was silence, enough that Carlton finally looked down at Deion, whose face was inscrutable.
“Yeah, I get it.” He climbed off the bed. “Look, I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
His fault? That sobered him up quickly. “How the fuck you figure that?”
Now Deion laughed, the sound devoid of humor. “I’m the one who said we needed to make this pretense real. I’m the one who said we needed to be legit. I’m the one who pushed this agenda. It was fucked up, and I’m sorry. I’ll go out front.”
How the hell had Carlton’s inconsideration become Deion’s fault? He started to say something, and Deion placed a finger over his mouth to hush him. “No, baby, don’t. We’ll figure out how to make believe without the...this,” he finished, waving at the bed, “tomorrow. Okay? You get some sleep.”
He leaned forward and pressed another quick kiss on Carlton’s lips, then slipped out the room, shutting the door behind him.
It took Carlton a few more moments to realize what the hell had happened. Deion had taken Carlton’s absolute inability to perform as a rejection of him, a lack of desire for him. He hadn’t seen how deeply Carlton was spiraling out of control.
Maybe Deion was right. Maybe it was something better left till the morning to deal with. But as Carlton looked at the bed, the covers crumpled where he’d laid Deion on top of it, he knew one thing for certain.
Tomorrow would be too late.
Chapter Eleven
What in the hell had he been thinking? Deion didn’t even have the energy to pull out the sofa bed. He would sleep on the couch as a couch tonight. Pretty sure it wouldn’t make much of a difference.
He should’ve known pressing the issue wouldn’t benefit him. Hell, Carlton hadn’t wanted him twenty years ago, and there was no reason to think he wanted him now. Shit, maybe he’d taken Ma’s words a little too seriously, thinking Carlton didn’t know what he wanted. Trying to let him know that, if Carlton wanted him, he was there.
Deion threw an arm over his eyes, not that there was any light to block out. And that arm? Couldn’t do a thing to stop the images splashed like front-page news photos in his head. Carlton, looking like he had nothing but remorse for what he’d been about to do. Deion, confused in a way he’d never imagined. Fuck, he’d been such a fool, trying to parlay the social worker’s obvious misunderstanding into Deion getting a taste of what—who—he’d always wanted. If Ma were here, she’d pop him upside the head for being so damn inconsiderate, and she didn’t even like Carlton.
He punched the cushion, having not even bothered to grab his pillow. He’d relocated it to the bedroom earlier this evening, and now he’d have to do without. Served him right.
Footsteps in the hallway grew closer and he groaned. Jesus, Carlton. Can’t a guy wallow in peace for one night? He didn’t know how he’d respond if Carlton wanted to force the issue and have a conversation right now, especially after all the time they’d wasted. In fact, the thought that Carlton might decide that now was the right time actively infuriated him.
He felt rather than saw Carlton come to a stop in front of him. “Come back to bed, Deion.” God, that voice was everything, and everything in him clamored to obey.
So he didn’t remove his hand. “I’m in bed.”
Carlton snorted. “We said we were going to do this. That means we need to work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out, Carlton. I pushed you too far. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”
“You thought I stopped because I don’t want you?”
This man was going to give Deion no goddamn peace, was he? “Am I wrong?”
Carlton’s laugh was suspiciously
absent of humor. “God, I want you so bad I’m afraid I’m going to nut before I get inside you.”
And that? That made Deion lower his arm. Carlton stood in front of the couch, his dick nearly in Deion’s face, though he didn’t think it was intentional. Carlton had his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like he wanted to avenge...something. “What are you talking about?”
“Fucking you isn’t a hardship. Never has been.”
“Certainly didn’t look like something you were eagerly anticipating.”
Carlton breathed out deeply and his shoulders sagged, hands falling to hang loosely at his sides, the fight gone. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It took me a few seconds to realize that’s where you’d gone with this.” He tapped Deion’s leg. “Move over, give me some space.”
“You got more than one place to sit out here,” Deion grumbled. But he sat up anyway, and Carlton nestled his narrow behind down next to him.
Carlton settled in and closed his eyes, almost like he was praying for the right words to say. And Deion’s stomach clenched, sure he was about to hear something he wanted no parts of. Then Carlton opened his eyes and twisted to face Deion. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Deion was on the verge of making some flippant remark, something to calm the anxiety threatening to take over, but now wasn’t the time for it. Carlton was being real with him for the first time in years. He deserved the same in return. “Do what, C?”
“I’ve kept you at arm’s length for damn near twenty years because we’re friends, and I was terrified of fucking up that friendship if we ever became more. I didn’t want to lose you altogether.”
“You think I’m going to pick up and walk away when this is all over? Decide I’ve had my fill and bounce?”
“Well, why not? If my parents would do it, why wouldn’t you? It’s not like I don’t know your mom’s been trying to get you to do that exact thing since that night.”
Deion looked at his friend. Really looked at him, his shoulders folded in toward his chest, like he was expecting rebuke; it was like looking at a scared little boy. He laid a hand on Carlton’s knee. “This is why I said I pushed you too far. I felt backed into a corner when you didn’t correct Evangelyn, and maybe I was trying to back you into one too. Which is a fucked-up thing to do.”
But Carlton was already shaking his head. “No. You weren’t doing anything I didn’t want, wasn’t trying to goad you into. I just need to know we’ll be okay if it doesn’t work out.”
Oh god, this big old softy. Deion grabbed his hand. “We’ll be okay.”
Carlton nodded and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Deion’s neck. Then another, and god, he wasn’t going to stop, was he? Deion tilted his head back to give Carlton more room. His voice went low, and he nipped at Deion’s lobe. “Good. Because despite my horrid performance before, I’m hard as a rock right now and can’t think of anything but your mouth on me.”
Only Carlton could shift from self-recrimination to unabashed horniness in the time it took to process a thought. Deion didn’t even have a chance to respond before Carlton was standing, holding his dick in his hand like an offering. When had he even had time to push his pants down?
But dear god, he was beautiful. Thick, and long, and straight. A drop of precome hung from the tip, and his balls were already drawn up tight. Delicious. Deion leaned in and swiped his tongue across Carlton’s slit. He bucked, groaned, and tangled his hand in Deion’s locs. A spike of pain shot through him, just the right amount to prove this was real and not the best dream, and he opened his mouth wide to take Carlton’s length in.
Carlton grunted, fisting both hands in Deion’s hair and pumping in and out. This wasn’t going to last long. It was all Deion could do to relax his throat, and let his hands roam. Roam over the body he’d fantasized about for decades, and god, this was better than any fantasy. The smoothness of his skin, that firm ass that Deion longed to sink into, the scent of cocoa butter rolling off him from his staple lotion. It was everything he’d dreamed of and more.
“God, your mouth. It’s going to be the death of me,” Carlton ground out above him.
Good. That’s what he wanted, for Carlton to lose himself under Deion’s touch. To let go of the inhibitions, the walls he’d erected to keep them apart. And yes, even as he felt Carlton thicken in his mouth, Deion knew that this might—likely would—end in heartbreak, but it would be worth it. These few months of being a real family? He’d hold on to them and lock them away in a vault, and pull them out while he was in a flat in London, thinking about the time when he meant more to his best friend.
Deion gripped Carlton’s ass, tugging him closer, and Carlton threw his head back. “God, yes, Deion, I’m right there—”
Carlton shoved his fist in his mouth as he came, probably remembering at the last second that they weren’t in their bedroom, and not wanting to startle Olivia down the hall.
Deion swallowed him down, reveling in the taste of his release. Carlton pulled out and hunched over, gripping Deion’s shoulders for support. “Dear God, you’re good at that. So much better than I remembered. And I have a pretty good memory.”
No lie, Deion perked up at the words, at the idea Carlton had actually reminisced about their time together. “Let’s get cleaned up and get in bed.”
Carlton nodded. “Yeah. I’m not used to worrying about waking someone.” He chuckled as he pulled his pajama pants up and tied the drawstring. “Hell, no one’s been over here for that since long before Trey came to stay. Guess I’m out of practice.”
Deion didn’t mind that either, not one bit. He stood and wrapped an arm around Carlton’s waist, leading him to the bedroom.
“You haven’t come,” Carlton said, pointing to Deion’s still rock-hard dick.
“Nope,” he said with a kiss to Carlton’s cheek. “You can take care of that in a minute.”
He thought he’d be apprehensive about being naked with Carlton for the first time in forever, but they stripped each other almost playfully before collapsing on the bed together. Carlton ran an almost reverent finger down the length of his dick and whistled.
“Goddamn, D, that dick is out of this world.”
Deion chuckled. He was used to comments about his size, but most of them were of the no-way-is-that-thing-coming-anywhere-near-me variety. Carlton, on the other hand, looked like he was salivating.
“You’re drooling.” Deion swiped a finger along the side of Carlton’s cheek for emphasis.
Carlton didn’t respond except to lean over and lick across Deion’s slit. He groaned at the sensation, and before he could say something snarky, Carlton wrapped his lips around Deion’s dick and sucked.
He grunted, fighting against the urge to close his eyes. He had to see this, to be sure it was real, and his friend was here, in the flesh, sucking him off. Carlton cupped his balls, already drawn tight against him, and massaged them gently. Deion rocked into his mouth, still unsure this was happening. Still afraid to believe this was real.
Carlton pulled back and reached over him for the lube, opening it hurriedly and squeezing it a little too hard. Lube spilled over Carlton’s fingers and down his palm. Deion reached out and laid a hand over him. Carlton looked down, his chest heaving, the lube making a mess down his arm and onto the sheets.
Deion had a million things he wanted to say, looking at his best friend. But words eluded him and he lay there, not sure words could convey how he felt. How good Carlton made him feel. How much this meant.
After a few moments, Carlton grinned, that sexy little half smirk that made Deion want to kiss him senseless. He scooted down the bed and braced himself on one elbow. With his other hand, the one coated in lube, he stroked Deion’s length. He bucked into that strong, sure grip, and Carlton smirked before leaning over Deion and kissing him.
This. This was what he wanted. More than the sex itself, it was the c
onnection. Deion opened instantly when Carlton swiped his tongue inside, increasing the pressure, fighting for control. Carlton’s hand left his dick and traveled, lower, past his balls, to his taint. Jesus Christ, this man was going to be the death of him. He shifted on the bed and opened his legs, unable to stop his whine when Carlton pushed one leg wider and broke off the kiss.
“Don’t stop.” Deion heard the plea in his voice, and he might otherwise be embarrassed, but the fact was, he needed more. He needed everything.
“Not planning to.” Carlton circled Deion’s hole with a finger before lightly pressing inside. Deion couldn’t keep his eyes open, not even when Carlton’s lips found his again.
He let himself relax into the sensation of Carlton being in control of his orgasm. Like this, he didn’t worry about what Carlton thought, what Carlton saw in Deion’s eyes. He could feel the soft crinkle of Carlton’s sparse chest hair against him, that strong but lean leg lying over his, the slight wetness where Carlton’s precome smeared against his thigh.
Deion grunted when Carlton added another finger, and his eyes flew open when Carlton curled them. “C,” he guttered out, clutching the sheets with one hand while he rocked against Carlton’s hand.
“Fuck, that’s good. Come for me, D.” Carlton didn’t give him time to respond, instead turning his body at an awkward angle and sucking the head of Deion’s dick back into his mouth. That pushed Deion over the edge, and he shot. Carlton didn’t stop sucking or fucking him until Deion pushed him away, his body too sensitive for more.
Carlton laughed and draped himself over Deion, fusing their mouths together for an almost bruising kiss before nestling his head against Deion’s neck. And Deion didn’t know what to do or say. They’d gone from one end of the spectrum to the other, and now Carlton lay on top of him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Deion wrapped an arm around him and listened as his breaths steadied. Carlton was asleep. Deion chuckled softly, pulled the covers over them, and tried to do the same.