Take the Edge Off

by TA Moore

  Joe put his tumbler down, close enough to Cal’s that the glasses clicked together. He tilted his head curiously to the side.

  “Do all your customers get this sort of hands-on service?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Cal said. He undid the last button on his shirt and let it hang open as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “There’s a customer-satisfaction survey, and with an iTunes gift card on the line, I like to go the extra mile. Look, if you want to pretend you had to seduce me into this? We can pretend you’ve threatened my paycheck if I didn’t comply with your deviant desires.”

  “Deviant?”

  “In for a penny, in for a spanking,” Cal said. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and heaved a fluttery sigh. “Oh no, sir. I’m a good man. What of my reputation?”

  Joe snorted as he stood up. The dull ache of lust clenched in his balls, a sharp, immediate need that shouldered the mess of everything else aside. He didn’t need to think about it. All he needed to do was grab both ends of Cal’s wrinkled tie and twist.

  “A good man?” he asked as he pulled on the makeshift leash.

  For a moment Cal didn’t shift, his jaw set as he leaned back against the twisted collar. Then he gave in and took a step forward. Joe had the edge on him in height, if only by an inch or so, and Cal had to tilt his head back to look at him.

  “Good enough,” Cal said. He brushed his hand over Joe’s crotch in a quick taunt of a caress that pinched pleasure deep in Joe’s balls. His hand drifted up to Joe’s hip, and he twisted the waistband of the loose black sweats around his fingers. “Good enough at some things.”

  Joe kissed him. He wanted, for a second, to take his time, to explore Cal thoroughly and to coax something like a plea from that smart mouth. But that wasn’t what this was about—there was accepted practice for nearly anonymous hookups, the same as there was for anything else—and Joe didn’t have the patience for it anyhow.

  He bit Cal’s soft, ripe lower lip and then slid it from between his teeth. “I guess I should take you for a test drive, then,” he said as he stepped back. The tie slipped from between his fingers, the wrinkles set with sweat now. “See if your ‘good enough’ will… satisfy.”

  Amusement played over Cal’s face. “You wanna kick the tires?”

  “I want to fuck you,” Joe said bluntly. The words felt rough in his mouth and as salty-sour as sex. “Finish taking that shirt off. Leave the tie.”

  Cal considered that for a second, his eyes hooded and amused. Then he did as he was told. Ink was scrawled over his broad shoulders and down his upper arms in bold, black lines. There was no theme or style to them. An elegant raven, shadow etched in soft gray, shared his bicep with a messy-edged tribal dragon. A rose bloomed in heavy red on his ribs, the only piece of color on his skin, and the edges of the petals scuffed down to pink where it curled over his ribs.

  It worked like graffiti on a beautiful building—the rough edges of it drew attention to the lean muscle and long bones underneath.

  “Custom paint job,” Joe said. “I like it.”

  Cal smirked and grabbed his cock through his trousers. The gray fabric outlined the heft of it, half-risen to the occasion. “You should see what’s down here.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Cal’s eyes tracked appreciatively down the hard line of Joe’s stomach to the obvious line of his erection under his sweats. He dabbed a damp line with his tongue over his lower lip, and he flexed his fingers lazily around his cock. “You first,” he said.

  Something dark and hot twisted low in Joe’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if he felt smug at Cal’s obvious interest or thrown by the shift in the balance of power. Joe was—even if not on his own merits—a wealthy man. He didn’t try to be a dick about it, but the weight of all that money had its own gravitational field.

  “See, I’m supposed to be the one taking advantage of you,” he said as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats.

  Cal shrugged and watched, his eyes hooded with lust, as Joe slid the black cotton over his hips and down his thighs. His cock stood proud from between his thighs, the skin taut around the thick jut of his shaft. He wrapped his hand around it and passed his thumb over the head. Slick precome smeared under his fingers.

  Was he really going to do this, he wondered with a flash of something almost panic. It scraped the back of his throat as he took a deep breath. No excuses this time. No Kristen to pretend she didn’t know something as she took him back to her straight, white-linen bed. No Edward to discreetly not notice anything as he waited in the car.

  Hell, it was the first time since he was fifteen that he’d fucked someone whose name he was 100 percent on.

  Some sober little part of his brain—sober or scared—dug its heels in. It was an awful idea, and it wasn’t too late for second thoughts. Joe decided he didn’t care… not enough, anyhow.

  “Who’s the rose for?” he asked.

  Cal looked surprised for a second. He reached over and rubbed his ribs were the ink splashed. “It’s… I wanted to feel pretty,” he said, the brief stammer covered with a smirk.

  It turned out Cal wasn’t a good liar. Joe let it go. It was hardly important to the next half hour.

  “Your turn,” he said as he glanced pointedly down at Cal’s trousers. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  Cal chuckled with a low, dark sound in the back of his throat as he unbuckled his belt. “I don’t really do second thoughts,” he said. “Ask my brother. Half the time I don’t even think about it once.”

  He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and pushed them down over his hip bones. The striptease had been Joe’s idea, but he didn’t want to wait anymore. He stepped forward and pulled Cal into a rough, eager kiss.

  No second thoughts for either of them, then.

  He bruised the kiss onto Cal’s lips with sharp teeth and eager mouth as they stumbled backward a step. Cal grabbed a handful of Joe’s ass and squeezed the tight curve of muscle. He dragged Joe closer, until Joe’s cock rubbed against Cal’s hip, the gray fabric of the trousers rough against tender skin. It made Joe squirm with the hunger for more contact. He thrust roughly against Cal, and his cock rubbed against fabric again and then slid over the waistband to brush against tight, warm skin. He groaned into Cal’s mouth, over the slick muscle of his tongue, and ran his hand down Cal’s broad back. He traced over the heavy bands of clenched muscle to the vulnerable dip of Cal’s spine.

  He pulled his mouth away from Cal’s and chewed his way down the alcohol sting of aftershave on his jaw to the skull-and-smoke ink on his throat. A guttural “fuck” scraped up out of Cal’s throat, and Joe felt the growl of it against his mouth. A hard jolt of interest twisted the nerves in his balls as he wondered what it would like to feel that noise around his cock.

  “Well?” Joe asked as he pushed Cal back against the bed. “Still wish you got to second base with your date?”

  Cal leaned back against the bed, his arms braced behind him against the mattress and his hips caught on the carved edge of the baseboard. He stood with his legs spread shoulder-width apart and his trousers slung low enough to show the scruff of dark curls that led down to snug red briefs. The tight cotton toned with the tattooed rose and trapped the hard curve of Cal’s cock.

  “If I wanted to fuck the doctor that bad,” he drawled, “I’d have told El to shove the job and send Ryan.”

  Joe grazed his thumb down Cal’s stomach, from his belly button to the elasticated cuff of his briefs. He traced his fingernail along the border between skin and underwear, a teased caress that made Cal grimace and tilt his head back. The pulled-taut line of his neck was wet and shiny with Joe’s spit. “Ryan? Am I missing out?”

  Cal frowned.

  “He got higher marks on his accreditation courses than I did, but I finished faster. I think I’m a better driver, but he never breaks the rules, so it’s hard to tell.”

  It sounded like he took that question more serious
ly than he had anything since he came into Joe’s room. Joe moved his hand down and gave the hard rise of Cal’s cock a rough squeeze through his briefs. Cal’s gasp was a harsh scrape of breath between his teeth as he thrust up against Joe’s hand.

  “I meant was I missing out down here,” Joe said.

  Cal licked sweat off his upper lip. “Oh, yeah. Naw, Ryan’s too fucked-up to fuck. I was definitely your best bet not to end up with a black eye.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Joe pushed Cal’s trousers and briefs the rest of the way down Cal’s thighs. His mouth went dry as he saw Cal’s cock for the first time. He had a nice cock—long and solid as it lifted up toward the flat of his stomach.

  “You want a taste?” Cal asked as he reached down to pull his foreskin back. The exposed head was flushed and slick, and Joe could imagine the taste of it on his tongue. It tightened his balls up between his legs, but he could imagine something better.

  “You first,” Joe said.

  Cal glanced down at Joe’s cock and folded his lower lip between his teeth.

  “So polite,” he said as he went down on his knees, his trousers still tangled around his calves. “That’s what you get when you fuck the rich.”

  Joe snorted. “It seemed like you needed something to do with that smart mouth other than run it,” he said.

  Then the words dried up and caught in his throat as Cal wrapped his mouth against the head of Joe’s cock. Pleasure pulsed down into his balls and crawled back along the tight cord of nerves to tickle his ass with the promise of “later.” He cupped the back of Cal’s head. The hair was too short to dig his fingers into. It was cropped down close to the skull until it napped like velvet, but he flexed his fingers against the heavy skull.

  Full lips stretched wet and tight around Joe’s cock as Cal sucked his way down the shaft. He grazed rough hands up Joe’s thighs until his thumbs settled into the fold of thin skin at his groin. He pushed up firmly with the flat of his tongue against the underside of Joe’s cock as he pulled back. Then he reached the head and sucked on it, the tip of his tongue suddenly clever as it traced the thread of the frenulum and then lapped eagerly at the slit.

  Cal let the head slip lewdly from his mouth and ran down the side of the shaft with lips and tongue and the occasional ball-wrinkling brush of teeth. Joe chewed on the inside of his cheek as he breathed raggedly. His muscles twitched and trembled under his skin as his nerve endings overloaded. Cal cupped Joe’s balls in his hand and squeezed them gently. The scrape of practical calluses against tender skin made Joe spit out a ragged “fuck” and pull Cal back up to his feet.

  When Joe slanted a kiss over Cal’s mouth, he tasted himself on Cal’s tongue, flat and metallic, the taste of brine from precome and his swim. Joe’s cock was pressed against Cal’s stomach, spit-wet shaft pressed against the tight skin, and he could feel the wet nudge of Cal’s erection against his thigh. Cal kicked his trousers off between sharp-bitten kisses and rough caresses and nearly tripped over the tangle of fabric as Joe pushed him back up against the bedpost.

  The idea of it had crawled sticky and eager into Joe’s brain earlier, the cocky tilt of Cal’s body against the carved, white-washed pole fuel to all sorts of dirty thoughts. He cupped Cal’s face in both hands and kissed him hard enough to press his head back against the post. The scruff of stubble on his jaw, pale gilt compared to the darker hair he’d cropped short over his skull, itched against Joe’s palms.

  “Turn around,” he rasped against the damp seam of Cal’s mouth.

  Cal paused and looked slightly taken aback. “You wanna fuck me?” he asked. “Most people want my cock in them.”

  The thought of it made Joe’s ass tighten with a wet pulse of sensation like a heartbeat between his legs.

  “Is that a problem?” he asked. His balls throbbed heavily, the hint of the ache he was going to have to wank out if Cal decided it was. He ignored it.

  Cal thought about it for a second as he ran his tongue over his teeth behind his lip. He shrugged and pulled Joe in close, their bodies pressed together from chest to balls. Cal grazed his lips along Joe’s jaw and bit gently at the hinge of his jaw. “Not if you’ve got a condom.”

  “Turn around,” Joe told him.

  Cal sighed, his breath warm against Joe’s throat, and lifted his head. “This isn’t a porno. If you stick your cock in me without a raincoat on,” he said, “I will lay you out.”

  Joe snorted and stepped back. “Do it,” he said. “And lean on the bedpost.”

  Cal gave him a dubious look but then turned and did as he was told. He lifted both arms to head height and gripped the arm-thick bar of wood. His fingers slotted into the carved grooves and the long straps of muscle in his back tensed visibly under the skin as he leaned forward. His ass was Irish pale and tight, all hard muscle and unmarked skin. It was Joe’s turn to nearly trip over his own feet.

  It was still an awful idea, but he didn’t think he’d regret it.

  Condoms were stashed in the bedside drawer, along with lube. Joe pulled one out and fumbled the rubber out to roll down the length of his cock. The tight rubber and pressure of his fingers as he smoothed it down his shaft made the heavy ache of arousal flutter in the pit of his stomach. He stroked himself again, tip to root, and then looked up. Cal had twisted around to watch Joe over his shoulder.

  “Didn’t trust me?” Joe asked as he walked back over. He kicked Cal’s trousers out of the way before he tripped over them again. “I’m hurt.”

  Cal snorted.

  “You’re a pretty fucker,” he said. “I like watching you move, that’s all.”

  The casual compliment, nearly more backhand than offhand, caught Joe off guard. He felt heat crawl under his skin and tried to ignore it.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t look as good as you in a tie.” He smeared lube on his hand and ran his fingers across the hard curve of Cal’s ass. It was wet and shiny against white skin. “You ready?”

  “Since about nine o’clock,” Cal rasped.

  Joe pushed his hand between Cal’s cheeks and rubbed his finger over and around the puckered hole. It tightened under his finger and then loosened again so he could slide his finger in. Long, slow strokes worked Cal slippery and open until he growled under his breath and pushed his ass back against Joe’s hand.

  There. Joe’s fingers were deep enough inside that he grazed the smooth nodule of Cal’s prostate. The brief touch made Cal twitch and rasp out a ragged breath. So Joe did it again, harder this time. Cal swore, a breathless, trailed-off “fuck,” as the nerve-rich bundle reacted to the rough stroke.

  “You want me to fuck you?” Joe asked as he leaned forward to nuzzle the skin under Cal’s ear. He smelled of sweat and a splash of sharp, musky cologne. His cock pressed against Cal’s hip and his balls were heavy and tight with hunger, but he wanted to hear Cal say it. He stroked his fingers into Cal and pressed his finger down on the tight node of nerves again. “Well?”

  “Fuck,” Cal muttered. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against the wooden post. “Yes. Jesus, Bailey, please. Fuck me.”

  Joe kissed the hinge of Cal’s jaw and shifted back. He slid his hand free of Cal’s ass and pulled his cheeks apart. The wet slick of his ass was open and eager, and Joe pressed the head of his cock against it. The tight pressure of Cal’s ass squeezed at his cock like an eager hand as he slowly pushed inside Cal.

  He felt the hot flare of satisfaction that he had what he wanted, and then it was lost in the sticky hunger for more.

  Joe rubbed his hand up Cal’s back, along the tight patterns of muscle, and gripped the heavy bulk of his shoulder. Slow, short thrusts spread Cal’s ass around his cock until he was buried inside him. He leaned forward and kissed his way along Cal’s shoulder blade, sweat sharp and heady against his tongue.

  “Would you have done this with your date?” he asked against skin.

  “Naw,” Cal said after a second. “He definitely wanted fucked.”

  Joe rocked his hip
s against Cal in slow, hard thrusts. His muscles clenched tighter with each stroke and twisted around the hot core of pleasure. He reached over Cal’s hip and wrapped his fingers around his cock. Each time he thrust into Cal, he stroked back on the hard, curved jut of his cock. The skin was thin and velvety under his fingers, wet with lube and come. He could feel the pulse of it against his fingers as he squeezed tighter at the base.

  “He has no idea what he’s missing,” Joe said. “Your ass feels like it was tailored to my cock.”

  Cal snorted. “You could have said tight, mate.”

  Joe dug his fingers into Cal’s shoulder and thrust roughly into him, hard enough to jolt him against the support of the bedpost. It creaked, and Cal tightened his fingers around it as he sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Tight,” Joe said. “So fucking tight.”

  He shoved into him again with hard, eager thrusts in time with the rough strokes of his hand around Cal’s cock. Sweat slicked their bodies, each thrust noisy as wet thighs slapped against a sweat-and-lube-glazed ass.

  Under him Cal swore and pushed against each thrust, his cock tight and swollen under Joe’s fingers. He came first, come hot as it dripped between Joe’s fingers and onto the floor, and he staggered for a second as his legs trembled under him.

  Joe pulled out, the sudden absence of hot pressure around his cock an ache, and tumbled both of them onto the bed. He sprawled out on top of Cal, stripped off the condom, and thrust against the flat, hair-rough plane of his stomach. Cal cupped the back of his neck and kissed him, his soft lips almost tender against Joe’s mouth.

  Joe twisted the—by now ruined—tie around his fist and pulled him into something rougher. He wanted sore and bitten lips, for the track marks of tonight to still be visible in the morning. Cal obliged him, his hand rough on the back of Joe’s neck as he bruised hard kisses into his mouth and down his throat.

  The clenched muscles finally gave, and Joe came against Cal’s stomach. Come smeared between their bodies, against their skin, as he lay on top of Cal’s long, sweaty body. He panted raggedly against the crease of Cal’s throat. His raw lips stung as sweat coated them, a reminder he probably wouldn’t think bruises such a good idea come morning.