Worth Waiting For

by Wendy Qualls

  * * * *

  They didn’t sprint to the bedroom, but it wasn’t a leisurely stroll either. Brandon kept alternating between tugging Paul forward and halting to kiss him breathless up against whatever vertical surface happened to be the most convenient, which meant they were both grinning when they finally made it to the bed. They landed on the mattress with a thump, the springs squeaking loudly in protest.

  “You really want to do this,” Brandon confirmed, wonder in his voice. “As in, not just for tonight or for convenient weekends. You want to do the whole real relationship thing. For how long?”

  “Let’s play it by ear. If that’s okay with you.” Paul grabbed Brandon’s hips and slid himself closer, so they were lying on their sides and pressed together from chest to thigh. “I know neither of us have a lot of experience with actual real relationships, but I find myself wanting to try my best for you. It’s probably horrible to say this, but I honestly don’t care what happens tomorrow, so long as I’ve got you here with me. Or I can be with you wherever you are. If I’m going to be unemployed anyway, I might as well be unemployed in Atlanta.”

  “Jesus.” Brandon seized his face with both hands and kissed him thoroughly before pulling away again. “Yes. Hell, yes—move in with me here. Get away from that toxic environment and let me introduce you to the benefits of being in a big city. I know some people at Emory and Georgia Tech—I can even ask around for you, job-wise. Not that you need to—”

  Paul silenced him with a quick and dirty slide of his tongue into Brandon’s mouth, taking him completely by surprise. “More important things to worry about right now,” he murmured against Brandon’s lips. “You’ve got other ways of making me feel better.”

  And was treated to the delightful sight of Brandon’s eyes instantly darkening. “You’ve picked up on that, I see,” he answered once they broke far enough apart to speak. “Tell me, any particular requests? Because I intend to make you feel very, very good. It’s become rather an obsession of mine.” He nipped at Paul’s bottom lip. “One I intend to indulge.”

  Paul rolled over onto his back, pulling Brandon on top of him. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately. There’s something I’ve always been afraid to try, but there really isn’t any reason to be afraid, is there? Not with you.”

  Brandon pulled back a bit at that, his forehead furrowing. “I didn’t mean we have to right—”

  “I want to, though.” So much. Spent most of the drive here daydreaming about it. “I’ve been thinking. Pretty much constantly since I saw Christopher again. And I realized something.” Paul looked up into Brandon’s brown eyes and let himself go. “I realized that I wasn’t afraid of anal sex.”

  “That’s—oh. Okay.” Brandon was making a valiant effort to not react to Paul’s body below him, but Paul could feel the tremor in his spine. Gotcha. Not so unaffected as he wanted Paul to think.

  “More than okay,” Paul said. “It hit me—pretty much immediately after I realized I wanted to make this last with you—that I was afraid of sex with someone who treated me like Christopher did. Who saw me as weak for being physically attracted to men. I was afraid to try it because if I did, I might enjoy it. And if I enjoyed it, then clearly I was lying to myself about being able to be happy without being gay.”

  Brandon sucked in a breath. “And now?”

  “Now I’ve got you,” Paul answered simply.

  Brandon stared down at him for a long moment, eyes wide. Hopeful. And then he seemed to snap back to himself. His kiss was rough, forceful, demanding—everything Paul needed more than air right at that moment. Brandon seemed to understand his desperation, keeping up the ruthless assault until Paul was literally scrabbling at his shoulder blades with the need to do something, to pull their bodies even tighter together.

  “You have a preference?” Brandon murmured. “Top or bottom? Because I’m perfectly happy to switch, however you think you might like it. I’ll walk you through it either way.”

  Paul sucked in a breath. God, this is it. “I think—if you don’t mind—you seemed to like it, in the shower …”

  “Your finger on my hole?” Brandon slid a hand under the waistband of Paul’s pants, palmed his ass, and squeezed gently. “I did. I do. You want to finger me again?”

  “Want you to do it to me,” Paul admitted. “It looked good.”

  “Oh.” Brandon’s eyes darkened even further. “Yes, we can do that. Hell, I can’t wait to see what you look like with my fingers inside you. But first—strip.”

  Paul sat up and shed his shirt with a minimum of grace or elegance. Brandon was a bit slower about it, more deliberate, but then he was crouching on all fours over Paul, pinning him to the bed by the weight of his sheer presence, and Paul was already halfway gone.

  “Jeans,” Paul gasped. “Need to—”

  Brandon dipped his hips and ground his pelvis against Paul’s. Only for a moment, but Paul couldn’t hold back his groan. Brandon grinned wickedly and did it again.

  “We’ll get there,” he promised. “Good things come to those who wait—you’ve heard that, haven’t you?” He repeated the motion, adding an extra little twist at the end that left Paul literally panting. “Are you ready for some good things coming, Paul?”

  “God yes,” Paul groaned. “Brandon, please—”

  Brandon didn’t. He did, however, slide himself slowly down Paul’s body, licking and sucking at every square inch of skin in his path and deliberately dragging the entirety of his torso against Paul’s cock as he did so. Paul was practically whimpering by the time Brandon’s mouth got down to the waistband of his jeans. Brandon popped the snap with a twist of his nimble fingers, then lowered his head again and caught the zipper in his teeth.

  Paul slammed his eyes shut to keep from coming right on the spot. The loss of visual input did nothing to impede the onslaught of sensations, though: the warmth of Brandon’s chest against his thighs, the slight vibrations as the teeth of the zipper unfastened, one by one, the contented hum coming from Brandon’s throat. Paul felt a slight tug at his hips, nudging him upward, and he wordlessly lifted them so Brandon could tug his pants and boxers down and off. When he opened his eyes again, Brandon was standing naked next to the bed and watching him with a blatantly predatory expression.

  “You look like you’re going to eat me.”

  Brandon quirked an eyebrow. “Tempting, but going to take it slow. At least for tonight. You’re sure you want this?”

  “I’m sure,” Paul said. Surer of this than I’ve been about anything in a long time. “You were worth waiting for.”

  Brandon stilled. “Are you sad that I didn’t?”

  “What? No, I…” Paul sat up far enough to grab Brandon’s hand and squeeze. “I was kind of hoping you’d show me a proper fucking.”

  The poleaxed look on Brandon’s face was absolutely worth the uncomfortable crudity of the expression. He recovered quickly, the predatory aura back almost immediately. Followed by a very literal growl as he dove back down to pin Paul to the bed for a thorough—very thorough—kiss.

  “Stay right there,” Brandon commanded in that low voice that always seemed to short-circuit any other thoughts Paul might have had. “I want you to touch yourself—slowly—and think about how much you want to feel me inside you. Don’t stop, but don’t let yourself come. Can you do that?”

  Paul nodded frantically, then reached down to rub himself as lightly as possible. He was already keyed up, practically vibrating with it, and it didn’t help at all to see how gorgeous Brandon’s body looked nude as he rounded the other side of the bed and dug in the drawer to pull out a small bottle and a condom.

  “Move farther up on the bed,” Brandon said, and slid onto the mattress from the opposite side. He positioned Paul carefully, pulling the duvet off the bed and slipping a pillow under Paul’s hips so he was in the exact center of the soft blue sheets. Paul felt oddl
y decadent, fondling himself while Brandon tugged him this way and that, but the end result was hard to miss—Brandon had an erection rivaling his own and it hadn’t even been touched yet.

  “I’m glad you know what you’re doing,” Paul admitted aloud. “Because this isn’t at all what I thought it would be like.”

  Brandon shifted over to lie next to him and pressed a firm, reassuring kiss to his lips. “What did you think it would be like?”

  “More unsettling. Scarier. Out of control.”

  “And you wanted to do it anyway?”

  Paul returned the kiss. “I trust you.”

  Brandon’s hand slipped down to cover Paul’s as it languidly slid up and down. “I know,” he whispered. “And it’s amazing.” His fingers wandered even farther south, cupping Paul’s balls and kneading them gently. He withdrew them momentarily, taking the time to slick his fingertips well with lube, but a moment later his hand was back between Paul’s legs. He traced a gentle trail over Paul’s balls and the sensitive skin behind until his pointer finger was running gently up and down Paul’s crack and Paul had to let go of his cock entirely for fear of coming too soon.

  “Spread your legs a bit,” Brandon murmured.

  Paul complied immediately. And Brandon rewarded him by pressing a little bit harder, angling his finger a bit, until his fingertip was skittering around the rim of Paul’s hole and it felt so, so good. “More,” Paul breathed.

  Brandon smirked at that, but he sat up a bit and refreshed the lube. His other hand went back to making soothing circles on Paul’s belly, thumb tracing the bottom edge of Paul’s ribcage and barely brushing the very tip of Paul’s cock on every third or fourth pass, but Paul’s attention was almost entirely focused on how Brandon was touching his hole. He was almost reverent in his gentleness and—despite the arousal—Paul had never felt so cherished in his life. When Brandon finally slipped his fingertip in through that rosebud of muscle and pressed gently, Paul felt nothing but relief.

  “Feels good,” he mumbled.

  Brandon slid his finger in farther, agonizingly slowly, until—

  “Oh!”

  Paul blushed the moment the noise escaped his lips—it’s not like I don’t know the mechanics, after all!—but Brandon’s gaze sharpened and he brushed over Paul’s prostate again. And again, over and over until Paul couldn’t keep still anymore and his hips twitched upward of their own accord.

  “More,” Paul breathed. “Want you in me.”

  “Patience.” Brandon bent down to lick at the tip of Paul’s cock, which was already moist with precome. “My pace, not yours.” He did add a second finger, though, which prompted another wordless groan.

  Paul flailed blindly for the condom on the mattress beside him, but Brandon beat him to it. He did allow Paul to tear open the little foil packet—a concession which was possibly related to how he refused to stop the inexorable drag of fingertips in and out of Paul’s hole or the teasing brush against Paul’s prostate on every third or fourth pass—but he rolled it onto his cock himself.

  “Want you,” Paul said, and fell back against the mattress.

  “Good. Because if I go any slower it might very well kill me.” Brandon ducked under Paul’s knee and settled himself down between his spread legs. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

  The blunt pressure of Brandon’s erection against Paul’s hole felt completely different than the teasing glide of his fingers, but it was a good kind of different. Paul took a deep breath and tried to relax. Brandon—despite his words—was going so slowly he was almost not moving at all. Which meant that Paul felt every last millimeter as Brandon slid slowly home. It did hurt, a bit, but the physical burn was insignificant in comparison with the heat in Brandon’s eyes.

  “Fuck,” Brandon breathed. “Paul, you feel—fuck. So incredible around me. Please say you’re ready for me to move.”

  “Please. Do it.” Paul tightened his internal muscles, drawing a groan from Brandon. “Fuck me.”

  Brandon dropped his head to hang loose, like he couldn’t be bothered to hold it up anymore, but he slowly tilted his hips backward and then pistoned sharply back in. Paul caught his breath on a gasp.

  And that was Brandon’s cue to move. He dropped all pretense of being slow and gentle and began to show Paul what, exactly, he’d been missing all this time. Paul reached down toward his own cock, but Brandon knocked his hand away.

  “Not yet,” Brandon growled. “Together. When I say. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

  Paul would have answered, would have said something about how sexy it was when Brandon got all commanding like that, but then Brandon changed his angle slightly and anything Paul might have had to say was swallowed up by the fireworks exploding behind his suddenly closed eyelids.

  “Found it.” The smug expression on Brandon’s face was obvious even though Paul’s eyes were closed. “Like that, do you?”

  Paul could only moan and tilt his hips farther up, silently begging. Brandon picked up his pace, hitting that one indescribable spot again and again until Paul was digging his heels into the sheet and practically tossing his head back and forth with desperation. Only then did Brandon finally consent to close his hand around Paul’s cock and pump him in counterpoint to the firm thrusts. Paul didn’t last long before everything coalesced and he seized up with a sharp cry. He could feel Brandon’s body stiffening between his thighs, could hear Brandon’s breathing stop entirely for a moment, then they both shuddered and collapsed together in a limp pile of satisfaction.

  “That was amazing,” Paul managed several minutes later, after they’d mustered the energy to disentangle themselves and spoon up together but not enough to get up and clean off. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not…” Brandon nuzzled Paul’s hair, his beard tickling the back of Paul’s neck. “It’s not always like that. Hell, it’s never like that. That was…” He let the thought die away in favor of pulling Paul closer. “Stay,” he murmured.

  “Right this minute? Or forever?”

  The words were out before Paul could properly censor them, and he winced at how needy he sounded. Brandon didn’t seem to object, though. He tightened his arms around Paul’s chest and murmured something into his hair.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  Brandon shifted his body upward. “I said,” he whispered distinctly into Paul’s ear, lipping the sensitive lobe, “forever is good for me.”

  Chapter 24

  It was pure hell to get up the next morning. Paul awoke to discover himself practically cocooned by Brandon, who was wrapped around him and snoring ever so faintly. Paul lay in Brandon’s embrace for several minutes, enjoying the warmth, before his stomach reminded him that they never got around to eating last night and he was therefore absolutely starving. Then his brain kicked in and pointed out there was probably still no food in the apartment—and worse, he was pretty sure he used up the coffee last time. Darn it.

  Brandon awoke in stages: first murmuring groggily and snuggling closer, then opening his eyes and yawning, then favoring Paul with a heart-melting smile before coming back to himself and remembering their situation.

  “Welcome back, sleepyhead,” Paul announced, pressing a brief morning-breath-friendly kiss to the corner of Brandon’s mouth. “The good news is you’re waking up with me. The bad news is there’s no breakfast and no coffee until we get ourselves back on the highway and find a Waffle House or something.”

  “Damn, then this can’t all be just a dream—my subconscious couldn’t possibly come up something as diabolical as a morning with no coffee.” Brandon stretched, pressing his very clear morning erection against Paul’s backside as he did so, then struggled up to a sitting position. “Fuck—we have to go back to St. Ben’s today, don’t we?”

  “I suspect I need to get properly fired.” Paul couldn’t resist another quick kiss, drawing
away before Brandon really had time to react. “And you said last night your legal department was taking over, but I’m guessing you still need to sort some things out, right?”

  Brandon blew out a long breath. “There’s going to be fallout. From that e-mail. It’s one thing if someone guesses the president’s password and peeks at things they shouldn’t see, but—aside from the obvious personal aspects you’re facing and the legal repercussions of hacking—Christopher has made the university look bad. Everyone’s going to be looking for someone to blame.”

  “And let me guess, you’re the most logical target because you didn’t catch him faster? That would be on par with what the administration usually does when cornered.”

  “Not if we can hand them your ex first.” Brandon cupped the nape of Paul’s neck and drew him in for a much more extended slide of tongue against tongue, until Paul was somewhat less able to string an entire sentence together anymore. He practically fell out of bed when Brandon’s phone chimed out a surprisingly noisy alarm.

  “Sorry,” Brandon mumbled, and pulled away. “Have to set it loud or I sleep through it.”

  “Luckily I don’t have to pack today.” Paul sat back and ran a hand through his hair, trying to get it to at least pick a single direction to stick up in. “I’m starving.”

  “Mmmm—what for?” Brandon waggled an eyebrow suggestively and glanced pointedly down to his morning erection.

  Paul rolled his eyes, but he gave in and allowed Brandon a bit more distraction before they finally got out of bed.

  * * * *

  He didn’t even make it all the way through the main doors of the psychology building before being ambushed.

  “My office,” Dr. Kirsner intoned. “Now.”

  It wasn’t a surprise—Paul and Brandon had parted ways in the parking lot and he’d spent the rest of the walk to his building anticipating the reception he was likely to receive—but following Dr. Kirsner back to his office felt an awful lot like the “walk of shame” Paul had promised himself in undergrad never to do.