Loving Bailey

by Lee Brazil

  Since the déjà vu of shame had jolted Bailey completely awake, he lifted Ashton's arm and rolled to his back, so he could see his boyfriend, his soon to be lover.

  Dark shadows lurked below his closed lids, tired lines fanned out around the corners of his eyes. Thin lips were pressed together, he was grinding his teeth in his sleep. Stress no doubt over the ungraded papers. The hand that wasn't resting on Bailey's chest was curled under his stubbled cheek. Ashton slept with the intensity that he did everything else, and with just as much grace. He'd been so patient, tried so hard to control his impulses and his sexual urges since they'd been together. No matter how much he teased or how their kissing and petting aroused them both, Ashton always pushed him away, insisted on waiting for graduation. Having the man at his mercy like this…

  Unable to resist the allure, Bailey swept the thin sheet down and revealed Ashton's body. He smiled when he saw the cotton boxer shorts. The fine white fabric appeared demure and innocent, until you actually read the fine print on the hip. May contain nuts. He chuckled under his breath. After all, it was too much to hope for that the man slept nude, he supposed.

  At first he was content to just look and let his gaze roam from the mussed gray-streaked hair to the familiar facial features, and on down to unexplored territory. Soon enough temptation led him to touch. He checked Ashton's face, reassured when he saw no change in expression. Gently he ran his hand up one furred arm to curl around a bony shoulder. Ashton shifted, murmured in his sleep as he fell onto his back.

  Bailey froze, checking again to see if he'd awakened his sleeping boyfriend. When Ashton continued to breathe deeply, eyelids flickering with tiny movements, he grew bolder. Trailing one finger up the sinewy neck, he brushed away hair from one ear. This was all familiar and dear territory. He followed the known trail down to a thin collarbone, to the hollow of Ashton's throat where a pulse throbbed steadily under his touch. Bailey's lips parted, his breath came a little faster.

  Next he tentatively explored the narrow chest, matted with dark hair. He'd run his hands through that before, tested the strength of these muscles. His fingers rubbed through the matt, found the large, copper nipples, teased them to stiff points.

  His mouth watered and his heart sped up a little. Did he dare lick and suck the little nubs? Could he do it without waking Ashton?

  He couldn't resist casting occasional glances at Ashton's face, not sure if he wanted the man to wake up or stay asleep so he could keep touching. If he woke up, he might put a stop to all of Bailey's fun. Or he might not an insidious voice insisted. This time, he might give in. This time he might go with the moment. Bailey shifted on the bed, spreading his legs to give his thickening cock room.

  As Ashton continued to sleep, Bailey grew bolder, his hands swept lower, brushed over the taut stomach, dipped into the navel. He licked his lips and gave in to the urge to taste the flesh his hands had explored.

  Bailey ducked his head and trailed his lips over Ashton's collarbone first. His boyfriend's skin tasted of soap and heat and a faint trace of sweet. He licked his way down, kissing everywhere his hands had touched until the tip of his tongue darted into Ashton's navel. Ashton bucked under him, strong hands gripped his shoulders, and then coiled in his hair. His head was tugged up, and he met burning blue eyes.

  "That's not where I want your mouth," Ashton growled.

  Bailey shuddered. That growl was sexy as hell. "Where?"

  "Take off my boxers. Hell, take off your jeans." Ashton released Bailey and lifted himself up on his elbows to facilitate the removal of his garment.

  Bailey tossed the thin cotton boxers aside then edged backward off the bed until his feet hit the floor. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Ashton's compelling expression. This was really going to happen. They were finally going to do it.

  Now that the moment had progressed from a sneak survey to action, trepidation warred with want in his breast. "Ashton…" His hands fumbled with the buttons of his jeans.

  "Go on. Take them off." Ashton stretched, long lean body rippling with finely honed muscles. "You're hesitating."

  "Are you sure?" Guilt over his period of promiscuity riddled Bailey. "I mean…I'm used."

  "Bullshit."

  He rushed on, wanting to get all the bad news out. "I slept with a lot of guys, Ashton. Most of them, I can't even remember their faces, let alone their names. I hate that you aren't the first."

  "Bailey"—Ashton sat upright on the bed and held out a hand—"come back here."

  Shucking his jeans but deciding to keep on the bikini briefs he wore, Bailey climbed onto the bed. Shame made him feel small, and he crossed his arms defensively on his chest. "I've been good since we met, Ashton. I promise, there's been no one since that day in the library."

  Ashton blinked, confusion evident. "Okay, that's good." He spoke tentatively as though feeling his way. "Just to be clear here, I haven't been with anyone either."

  Bailey dismissed that with a slash of his hand. "I know that. This isn't about you, it's about me and my ability to be faithful." He jerked his head up and glared at Ashton. "Isn't it? Isn't that what we've been waiting for? Proof that I'm not a whore?"

  "What?" Bailey sensed the outrage in every tensed muscle; Ashton fairly quivered with it. "Bailey, no. It's not about that. Waiting to have sex has nothing to do with how many people you've slept with."

  A tiny bit of hope, spurred by the earnestness of Ashton's expression, bloomed. "Then…"

  "You don't think that I'm a whore do you?" Ashton interrupted him.

  "No, of course not!"

  "Because I'm thirty-six, and I can guarantee you that in the last twenty years since I discovered I was gay, I have slept with more men, and forgotten them too, than you could even imagine you slept with during that few months."

  He wrestled with that thought for a few seconds. "I felt so ashamed of what I'd been doing."

  "I know that. I could tell that when we met the first time, your pain wasn't so much over Eden as over how you'd disappointed yourself. I have never been ashamed of you." The sincerity was unmistakable, Ashton's expression gentle and understanding. "Most guys behave exactly as you did, Bailey, and for more than a few months."

  "I…" He dragged in a deep breath, uncrossed his arms. "I'm sorry. I ruined the moment. Can we start over again?"

  "Come here. Let's not call it starting again. Let's just call that foreplay and this the main event." Ashton opened his arms and Bailey crept into them, heart thundering with relief.

  "So, why wait, then?" He couldn't just leave the issue alone.

  Ashton sighed, chest rising beneath Bailey's head. "It felt awkward. Like I would be taking advantage of you. We've been over this, I know. But at one point when I was young, I let an older man talk me into a relationship I knew was wrong. Then, he used his position as my boss to keep the relationship going longer than I wanted. Breaking away from Dennis took a lot of effort. I didn't want to put you in that same position."

  Chapter Seven

  Ashton closed his arms around the younger man. His heart ached vaguely with sympathy, and his initial touches were meant to soothe and comfort more than arouse. But as tension and turmoil receded, the passion that always existed between them flared back into life. His semi-hard cock stiffened to full arousal, and he couldn't resist grinding a little against Bailey. If he were sensitive, he'd put passion on the back burner and focus on their emotional connection, but it seemed that once the idea of some form of sexual play with Bailey was broached, his psyche wasn't letting it go that easily. Instead, he worked the black cotton bikini briefs down his lover's thighs, unable to resist brushing a butterfly kiss over the ridges of muscled stomach.

  Bailey responded with a deeply indrawn breath and a shiver. He kicked the briefs away, and Ashton found himself rolled on his back, staring up into ardent blue eyes. "Hey," he drawled. "Feeling more into this?" He let his thighs fall apart, creating space between them for Bailey to get closer.

  "I'm feeling like I w
ant to get into something…" Bailey drawled back, mockery lightening his tone, a smile lifting his lips. He wiggled a little and his cock slapped against Ashton's thigh, leaving a little damp spot. If a faint redness rimmed his eyes, and some suspicious moisture appeared to have gathered in the corners, then Ashton would chalk it up to eye irritating dust, or better yet, pretend, as Bailey so obviously intended to do, that he didn't see it. "I'd like to get into you."

  A little startled, Ashton felt his own smile falter. His heart picked up speed, his groin thickened. His hole clenched in protest, or longing. "What?"

  Abashed, Bailey backpedaled. His smile faded, became hesitant. "I mean…If you don't mind?"

  "We talked about this. Not until after graduation." In actuality, it had never occurred to him that Bailey would want to top. He'd somehow always pictured sex between them the other way around. Now that he'd considered the idea though, his gaze dropped to Bailey's groin, to the long, thick curved cock that rose from a nest of cropped brown curls. It wasn't like he'd never bottomed, or even found being penetrated distasteful. It just wasn't the sort of position he wanted to be in with someone he didn't care deeply about. Which brought him back to Bailey, who he loved like he'd never loved anyone else, ever.

  "As long as you're not ruling anal out entirely." A trembling finger caressed Ashton's lips.

  "No, just not right now. Please don't think my saying no has anything to do with not wanting to." He didn't know which direction his lover would take at the denial. He hadn't, after all, even realized Bailey harbored these doubts and regrets about his worthiness. Bailey let out a breath of relief, and Ashton vowed silently to put his best efforts into assuring Bailey that as bruised and damaged as he felt himself to be, he was perfect for Ashton.

  "I'm not going to freak out again. I promise. Can't blame me for trying." The wicked grin flashed back. "So you had something more like this in mind then?"

  With a purposeful movement, Bailey trapped Ashton's dick alongside his own between their lower bodies. He leaned forward and brushed their lips together. Instinctively, Ashton brought his knees up to cradle Bailey against him, hooking one calf around Bailey's knee to lock him in place.

  Willing to concede only so much control to his young lover, Ashton immediately opened his mouth and sucked Bailey's questing tongue in. He wrestled for control of the kiss, but Bailey fought his dominance with a fervor that left him breathless and weak. Their tongues slid together, seeking sweet places, spurring sensitivity and heightening passion with moist caresses. He slipped one hand down the broad back and curled his fingers around a taut buttock.

  Bailey shuddered again, moaned into Ashton's mouth. Smiling inside, Ashton let his fingers brush the sweet crease, and thrust up, twisting his hips so that their cocks glided together. A heady drum beat of lust tempered the rush of emotion that flooded his system.

  His cock caught on the rim of Bailey's. And it was his turn to gasp as sweet pleasure spread through his limbs. Catching on to his plan, Bailey pulled back from his lips and murmured, "Do you have any lube? I prefer it wet."

  "In the drawer," he muttered, arching again. Sinewy muscle and crisp dark hair caressed his cock as it slid along Bailey's. A tiny gleaming drop of pre-cum oozed from his slit.

  Bailey laughed and then held him in place with one broad hand, while fumbling with the nightstand drawer. "Hey! I need the lube, I get friction burns real easy."

  The confidence made Ashton shudder. "Your skin is that sensitive?"

  "Oh yeah, I have to use lube even when I jack off."

  He assimilated the new information about his lover, forming and discarding plans for exploring that sensitivity. "Warm that before you apply it," he warned as Bailey spilled the lube across his palm.

  "Oh?" An eyebrow arched in demand.

  "I don't like cold oil on my skin." He wedged his hand between them and covered his cock, squeezing lightly.

  Bailey knelt up and smiled down at him. "I'll warm the lube up before one drop touches you."

  Ashton felt his jaw drop as Bailey knelt over him, pelvis thrust forward, erect cock jutting upward in demand. His mouth watered and his hole clenched in anticipation. Maybe…he brushed the tempting thoughts aside. They'd wait for that still. Meanwhile, there were sensual pleasures to be explored that would further their intimacy.

  He nearly whimpered as Bailey took his prick in his slick palm and began stroking, arching his hips to thrust his erection through the tight grip. He worked from base to tip, squeezing the purple swollen head of his cock between his fingers before jerking back to the base. The speed of Bailey's hand scattered tiny drops of lube over Ashton's skin.

  Low moans of pleasure erupted from swollen lips as Bailey pleasured himself. Ashton stared, mesmerized. He stroked his own cock urgently, occasionally tugging his balls down or squeezing his base. His breath came fast and hard, his chest heaved.

  His movements slowly began to echo Bailey's rhythms, stroke for stroke, breath for breath, moan for moan, their pleasure built together.

  Bailey's eyes flew open and he stared down at Ashton. "It's hot now."

  "Huh?" Comprehension was impossible. His senses were drowned in the scent of sweat and man, his eyes couldn't focus on anything beyond Bailey's face contorted in his pleasure, his brows drawn together, lips parted, nostrils flaring.

  "The lube," he gritted out between panted breaths, "is warm now."

  The meaning was slow to sink in, but fortunately, Bailey grunted and took matters out of Ashton's confused hands.

  He released his cock, lowered himself until he once more rested between Ashton's wide spread thighs, and thrust.

  One hot, smooth glide of slick flesh against his inflamed cock and something inside Ashton burst. He clutched at Bailey's hips, and thrust up to meet his lover's downward stroke. Heat and tension pooled in his groin, tightened his muscles.

  Bailey's rough, guttural moans and labored breaths spurred his own passion higher. His cock slid sensually alongside Bailey's, rubbing against furred skin and silky cock, swelling slowly, and hardening impossibly until he thought his skin would split.

  His balls drew up tight and hard, sensation pooled at the base of his spine. He jerked, and a shot of cum burst between them, slicking their bodies even more. Bailey groaned, thrust back, grinding against him frantically until he froze, eyes widening.

  "Ash…going to now…" His eyes clamped shut, he shuddered again. The earthy aroma of cum drenched the air as they convulsed together a second time. Ashton dragged Bailey down for another kiss, devouring his mouth with a deep unappeased hunger.

  "God, Bai, I love you so much." He tore his mouth away and tried to catch his breath. Bailey rolled to the side, chest heaving.

  "Me too." He searched the area then climbed from the bed with a groan. Ashton let his gaze dwell on tightly flexing buttocks as Bailey strolled to the bathroom. A light chuckle drifted back to him. "I can feel you watching me, you know."

  "I wasn't trying to be subtle," he teased.

  Bailey turned back and leered broadly. "Good."

  "Where are you rushing off to anyway?"

  "Figured I'd run clean up this time. You can take it next time." He disappeared into the bathroom, and Ashton closed his eyes. Water ran in the sink. The toilet flushed. Cabinets banged open and shut. Time passed.

  "Hey!" he called out when it seemed that Bailey had been gone longer than necessary to find a washcloth or a towel and take a piss. "Did you fall in? Need some help?"

  Chapter Eight

  Bailey slumped on the closed lid of the toilet, his head in his hands. He heard Ashton calling and made an effort to get his breathing under control. The wave of emotion that had hit him when he entered the bathroom shocked him.

  They'd finally done it. Or some version of it.

  And he felt a compelling need to run out and spill his guts even more than he had already this morning. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed, his throat was clogged with words he would not speak.

 
; Bailey rose and turned on the cold water, dousing his face with the icy liquid to cool his skin and his emotions. Calm. Remain calm. He added hot to the stream of water and wet a cloth. Staring himself down in the mirror, he willed the sheen away from his eyes, the blotchiness from his skin.

  "Hey? Do I need to come in there?" Genuine concern outstripped the teasing in Ashton's voice that time.

  "No." He forced the word over the lump in his throat, and swallowed against the pain of speaking. "Be right there."

  "Don't fuck this up," he warned the man in the mirror. The man stared him down, eyes narrowing, then nodded. Bailey pushed the whimsy away. He wouldn't fuck this up.

  In the bedroom, Ashton had sat up in the bed and was staring intently at the bathroom door. Bailey met his gaze and forced a laugh. "Since you're up"—he tossed the warm cloth at his lover. His lover…he could say that now. Instead of his boyfriend—"I'm going to shower quick and make a shopping list. We're a little out of time, but we can tackle at least one project."

  Ashton caught the rag adeptly and scrubbed his groin and abs. Bailey followed the movements with his eyes, licking his lips. He'd touched that skin, kissed it…

  "Bailey."

  From the touch of impatience, Ashton had maybe had to call his name more than once. "Yeah?"

  "Do you mind if we skip the project? I slept longer than I planned and I have papers to grade."

  He did kind of mind, because the paper grading would mean that Ashton wouldn't want him around. "I was hoping we could spend the afternoon together."

  "We can. I'll pack up my stuff in my bag and we can go wherever you want, do whatever, as long as I can get some grading in."

  It was better than sending him home, which is what Ashton would have done before last night. That he couldn't have borne. "I'll think of something in the shower."