by Wendy Qualls
“You say that and I might just drag you out clubbing,” Brandon retorted, his smile widening.
“I thought we both established that wasn’t really our scene?”
“Yeah, we did; that’s why it was the perfect threat.” Brandon swiped the tray away from Paul and tipped the contents neatly into the trash can. “Better idea—how about an evening swim? My apartment complex has a really nice pool, and it’s open until eleven. We’ll probably have it all to ourselves—nobody comes after dark. Even though it’s pretty well lit.”
Some sort of exercise sounded heavenly, as well as the chance to see Brandon shirtless and wet. “I didn’t exactly bring a suit.”
Brandon’s flicked his gaze down Paul’s front and back up again. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, and nodded toward the door. He wore a carefully controlled expression, but he couldn’t entirely hide the heat in it. “Ready to go?”
* * * *
There was a brand-new swimsuit in a box at the back of Brandon’s closet. He yanked the tag off and tossed it to Paul, leaving the box on the shelf. “Christmas gift from my friend Lito—it was kind of an inside joke. I already had one I liked so I’ve never worn it. And I don’t swim as much as you might think, considering the pool’s right there. Hopefully it fits—I’m guessing we’re about the same size.”
It did. Together they made their way through the chilly night air to the pool area in the middle of the apartment complex. It was a beautiful indoor-outdoor affair, with a long, curved arm running through an outdoor deck area and connecting to a rectangular indoor lap pool, separated by a sheet of Plexiglas that came down to just under the surface of the water. As he had said, the entire facility was empty. Brandon let them into the building with his key, set his towel down on one of the lounge chairs, and launched himself into the water with a splash.
“Warmer in here!”
Paul eased himself in, but the pool really was warmer than the air and it felt wonderful after the long car ride and the greasy dinner. The deep end of the pool wasn’t all that deep—neither of them could stand, but it wasn’t enough to dive. Paul to settled in and did a few laps while Brandon leaned back against the wall and watched. The air in the indoor pool area was humid with a chemical tang and the air outdoors was positively frigid when compared with the warmer pool. The contrast back and forth was interesting, and Paul let himself be distracted by cataloging the differences as he swam.
“You make that look graceful,” Brandon said when Paul stopped for a breather just inside the Plexiglas divider.
Paul didn’t feel particularly graceful, but the full-body exercise was helping counteract some of the tension from the last few days. “I’ve always liked swimming,” he answered. It’s not like he’d had anything much beyond the lessons from when he was a kid. “I don’t get to do it often, but it feels nice to stretch muscles that don’t usually get stretched.”
“Looks nice, too.” Brandon grinned and grabbed at Paul’s waist below the water. “I can help you stretch some of those new muscles,” he growled in his ear.
Dang. “Brandon, I…”
Brandon huffed softly against his neck. “Embarrassed to kiss me here?”
“Yes, if you must know.” Paul pulled back, putting a bit of space between their bodies. That had come out a bit more snappish than he’d intended, but it was true. “Sorry, it’s a lot to take in, all at once. And I’m not ready to do, um.” He gestured from his own bare chest to Brandon’s. “That. Where anyone can see. The light’s on and we’re right next to a giant window.”
Brandon’s expression was startled, then contrite. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Crap. “It’s fine, I only meant—”
“No, I was being a jackass.” Brandon turned away and shook his head. “I’m trying to give you space, but sometimes I’m an idiot and I forget that not everyone flirts quite as aggressively as I do. It’s not like you haven’t told me.”
“To be fair, I suppose I never did specifically say ‘no kissing or groping in a pool in the dark.’” Paul thought about offering his hand, in truce, but Brandon wasn’t looking. He splashed Brandon’s back instead. It was absolutely worth it for Brandon’s stunned reaction, which morphed into retaliation in about three seconds flat.
“I assume pool wars are acceptable, then?” Brandon asked between well-executed lunges, forcing short shocks of water up over Paul’s head to rain down on him. “Because I’ll warn you, I’m good at these. Older brothers, remember.”
“Yeah, yeah—twin sister. She’s deadly at this.” Paul interlocked his fingers with each other and shoved the heels of his hands outward, directing a spectacular jet of water right at Brandon’s chest. It hit dead-center, splashing up into his face and—judging from his sudden startled snort—directly up his nose.
It only devolved from there, the two of them chasing each other around the indoor portion of the pool like ten-year-olds and splashing every chance they got. They were both a bit out of breath by the time they called a truce. Brandon looked fantastic when dripping wet, his beard and hair even darker than usual. The individual droplets running down his arms and chest only drew attention to the subtle ridges and furrows of his musculature. Paul knew he was staring, but Brandon seemed to be staring at him just as much so he didn’t bother to hide his appreciation.
“You’re thinking,” Brandon said.
“You know,” Paul answered quietly, his voice barely carrying over the water, “‘not here’ isn’t the same as ‘not now.’ I may not be an exhibitionist, but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready to take you somewhere significantly less public and let you find out exactly what I’m thinking about.”
“Oh. Oh. I suppose that could be arranged.” Brandon bit his lip. “And,” he purred, his eyes smoldering, “you really need to see my shower. It’s surprisingly large, given the size of the apartment. Would fit us both, easily.” He drew closer, not touching but close enough to murmur directly into Paul’s ear. “I know what else I want to do tonight,” he breathed.
They were out of the pool and back to Brandon’s apartment in record time.
Chapter 12
Paul waited until the door closed behind them to whirl Brandon around, press him up against it, and kiss him breathless. Brandon only resisted for an instant, probably out of surprise, then let Paul tease at his mouth until they were both moaning softly. He didn’t try to reclaim control of the kiss—Paul was proud to be doing quite well at that, thank you—but when they finally broke apart he followed it up with an even more scorching kiss of his own.
“Eager, are you?” he murmured into Paul’s mouth.
“Desperately.” Paul was quite certain that if he didn’t get Brandon’s hands on him that very instant he might very well explode. He reached for the hem of Brandon’s swim trunks, but Brandon twisted away and smacked his hand playfully.
“Patience, grasshopper.” Brandon thumbed Paul’s nipple, sending goosebumps chasing over his skin, but he very carefully kept their lower bodies apart. “I promised you a shower first. Then I’ll let you maul me to your heart’s content.”
“Don’t wanna wait.” Paul reached for Brandon’s hips again.
Brandon pinched Paul’s nipple, lightly but firmly, and Paul nearly bit through his tongue. When Brandon smirked and turned to go lead the way to the bathroom, though, some devilish impulse prompted Paul to land a brief retaliatory swat to Brandon’s rear. It was a somewhat damp swat, since Brandon’s swim trunks were still sopping, but it made Brandon jump anyway and then shoot him a bemused expression over his shoulder.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asked with a little laugh.
“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “It hit me, you know? Any other Friday night, I’d be sitting at home playing video games. By myself. And now I’m staying with this sexy guy in Atlanta for the weekend, and he’s wet and shirtless and flirting with me and he’
s interested in doing all sorts of amazing, depraved things to me. And I can barely believe it.”
“With you.” Brandon grinned at him and pursed his lips in a parody of a kiss. “I want to do amazing and depraved things with you, not to you. Important difference.”
“Oh?” Paul grinned back, helpless to do otherwise. “Are you going to elaborate on that?”
“Sure—once we’re in the shower.” Brandon sauntered through the living room and down the short hallway, sashaying slightly and swinging his hips in an utterly mesmerizing manner. He turned on the light in the bathroom and started the water, all without looking back, but Paul could sense Brandon’s full attention on him the entire time.
The shower stall was astoundingly large in comparison to the rest of the bathroom: tiny sink, tiny vanity area, tiny linen closet, tiny square of tiled floor to stand on, a normal toilet, and a big freaking amazing shower/tub combo. Paul shucked off his wet swim trunks and ran them under cold water in the sink to get out some of the chlorine. Their knees collided a few times as Brandon stripped behind him, but that was fine because they were both halfway hard already. Brandon caught him looking—they locked eyes in the mirror, then Brandon smirked and ran a hand slowly over his own naked chest. He didn’t say anything, but then he didn’t have to. Paul could figure out perfectly well what the raised eyebrow and the jerk of Brandon’s head toward the shower meant. Chlorine-soaked swim trunks were immediately forgotten.
The warm water felt heavenly, washing away the pool residue and the fatigue of the long car ride. Brandon maneuvered them around so they could rinse first and get their hair thoroughly wet without elbowing each other in the face. Paul hadn’t thought to bring his own shampoo, but Brandon had a bottle of something expensive-looking and if it smelled anything like what Brandon had been using for the last week, Paul was all for it.
“Come here.” Brandon poured a little pool of the pearly liquid into his palm and stepped back, giving Paul space to find a comfortable angle under the spray. Paul had to duck a little, but the first touch of Brandon’s fingers on his scalp sent a shiver throughout his entire body. Good grief, it felt amazing. Brandon laughed at his reaction, but he kept up the gentle massage until Paul’s entire head was tingling and his eyes had drifted closed.
“I want to make a joke about your magic fingers,” Paul mumbled with his chin against his chest, “but I’m afraid if I do you might stop.”
“Oh, I want to be touching you much more than this.” Brandon slid a shampoo-slicked hand down Paul’s torso, tweaking a nipple and coming tantalizingly close to his now-fully-erect cock before pulling away. “First you have to tilt your head back to rinse your hair, and then you can do me.”
Paul let Brandon turn him this way and that under the spray, washing the shampoo out. There was perhaps more caressing than necessary, but naked like this it was obvious they were both enjoying the moment. He eventually got Brandon to swap places with him, so the water was cascading down Brandon’s shoulders and back in thick rivulets that twisted and bent with the lines of his body. Brandon closed his eyes and submitted to Paul’s fingers on his own scalp. He didn’t moan out loud, but he might as well have—they both knew exactly where this was leading.
Oh yes, I could get used to this.
As soon as Paul finished his hair, Brandon twisted around and yanked their bodies chest-to-chest. He barely gave Paul a chance to react before closing the gap in a near-violent clash of mouths, nudging Paul’s jaw open and tangling their tongues together. Paul scrabbled desperate fingertips against his back, melting against him and relaxing into the kiss. Eventually it gentled, turning exploratory, until Brandon pulled back with a hint of a sigh and planted a chaste peck on the tip of Paul’s nose. “You bring out the caveman in me,” he said with a hint of a rueful smile.
“I like the caveman in you,” Paul answered honestly. “You have no idea how much.” Rather have a bit of your caveman in me. Paul grimaced inwardly. Right. Not the time, and heck if I’m going to ruin the mood with terrible jokes. Or the reminder that I’m not able to give him all the variations of orgasms he probably wants from me. He kissed Brandon back instead, playful but short—or it would have been, if Brandon hadn’t caught him by surprise with a sneak encore of tongue action.
Brandon eventually let out a long groan and stepped away, running a blatantly lustful eye over Paul’s entire body. “Right, finish washing,” he declared. “Then I can ravish you up against the wall.”
“Oh?” Paul didn’t even pretend to hide how his cock jumped at that. Caveman, indeed. Dang. “You did promise some amazing, depraved plans.”
“Oh, yes. Those.” Brandon sighed dramatically in mock disappointment. “Unfortunately, elaborating would give away the surprise. Plus I keep seeing you from new angles or with a new expression—my plans have to keep growing to encompass all the wicked things I want to do with you. It’s become a race to see which of them happens first.”
“Oh.” Paul felt a little dizzy at even the promise of whatever “wicked things” Brandon might be interested in. “You’ve inspired me to wash fast.” Paul stepped around Brandon to peek into the shower caddy for something resembling soap. “Whoa, a loofah? Seriously?”
“Hey, we’re gay—it’s allowed. Although I’m pretty sure we have to just call it a ‘scrubby thing,’ since we’re both such manly macho men.” Brandon very pointedly slid his wet chest against Paul’s arm as he leaned in to pull out a pump-top bottle of body wash. At least it had the label printed in block letters instead of flowing pink cursive with flowers. “Got to be some advantages to being gay and naturally fabulous, after all.”
Paul choked on what would have probably come out as a giggle. “I don’t think I’ve been ‘fabulous’ a day in my life.”
“Oh, me neither, and I even tried it for a while. Takes a surprising amount of effort. And hair product. Turn around.” Brandon dragged the soapy loofah slowly over Paul’s shoulders and back. It should have tickled, having someone else wash him like this, but the teasing scrape over his skin had Paul breathing faster and leaning back into Brandon’s touch. Brandon braced him with a warm palm against his hip, anchoring him in place. “None of that; you’ll fall over.”
“Then at least one of us would be horizontal. It’s a start.”
Brandon huffed, his grin audible in the sound. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you tonight? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, you’re just being extra-flirtatious.” His hand drifted around to Paul’s waist, brushed higher to settle flat and heavy against his stomach. “After I was such an idiot in the pool…”
“Mmmm.” It was a fair question, but Paul didn’t really have an answer. Everything was wonderful at the moment: All the trouble at St. Ben’s was worlds away, he was warm and comfortable, and he was being buttered up by Brandon Mercer, of all people. For sex, which they’d already had twice. And which had proved to be significantly more amazing than anything had been with Christopher.
“Should I assume you’ve got your own amazing and depraved plan, then? You might be able to persuade me to be indulgent.”
Ooh, yes. That. “I think, if you’re going to play it that way…” Paul turned to face him, so Brandon’s empty hand was pressed against the small of his back and the loofah was squashed between their two bodies. “Tonight I want to be the one to make you lose your train of thought. I want to touch you all over. With my hands and with my mouth and with my body. And I want to make you drop the ‘scrubby thing’ on the floor of the tub because your muscles have all but given out on you and you can’t concentrate enough to hold it anymore. And then I want to make you come, right here, with the water raining down on both of us. Sound good to you?”
“Well, fuck. Look who’s gone all toppy now?” Brandon dropped the loofah immediately and leaned back against the wall of the tub, maneuvering them sideways so the spray warmed them both. “I suppose it’s only fair—turnabout’s fair play
and all that.”
“Oh, I thought so too.” Brandon’s head was angled back, exposing the underside of his jaw, so Paul stepped in and took advantage. Brandon tasted like clean skin and warm water and nothing else and it was absolutely marvelous. Droplets of water gathered on his beard, glittering and smearing against Paul’s cheek as he moved his head. Fantastic. Paul let his mouth slide lower, down Brandon’s neck to his collarbone and his chest, until finally Brandon surrendered with a low grunt and tangled his fingers in Paul’s wet hair. “Christ,” he breathed.
“Your vocabulary diminishes, the closer my mouth gets to your cock.”
“Don’t need words,” Brandon groaned. “Need—oh fuck.”
Paul’s own erection jumped at how responsive Brandon was to just that single fingernail up the underside of his shaft. “Should I do that again?” he murmured against Brandon’s sternum.
“Fuck.” Brandon was clearly making a serious effort not to wrap his hands deeper in Paul’s hair and yank his head down to the right height, but his fingers were twitching and it felt good. Very good. “I think I can”—Brandon gasped as Paul repeated the motion—“I can put up with you having the depraved plans every once in a while.”
“Mmmm.” Paul could feel Brandon’s hands practically trembling against his scalp as he lowered himself to his knees. From this height the spray of the shower was coming from almost directly overhead, tickling his face and running down his neck, but the close-up view of the gentle waterfalls cascading down Brandon’s torso more than made up for the annoyance. Brandon moaned, loudly, and shifted his hips forward in a blatant request.
Hell yes.
Someone somewhere once said that giving a blowjob was like riding a bicycle: Once you learn, you never forget. It may have been ages since Paul had last tried this, but he was pleased to discover it came completely naturally this time around. The best way to angle his neck, the way to hold his mouth so his teeth wouldn’t cause a problem, how to flick his tongue against the slit with just the right amount of force—it all came back to him. Brandon was swearing again, somewhere far above him, but for right now the world consisted of Brandon’s cock in his mouth and Brandon’s hands in his hair and the warm water cascading down over both of them. It was absolutely marvelous.