by Willa Okati
He heard Melissa, next. Quentin, really, this is beyond the pale. You overreacted again and turned into a sniveling mess. What depths won’t you sink to? Sleeping with that—that—man. If I’d known you would do something so foolish, I’d have locked the room door and not let you go.
Her voice rang so strongly in his mind that Quinn almost expected to open his eyes, look up and see Melissa standing there dressed in her neat suit, one heel tapping on the messy floor of Billy’s room. She’d rake her eyes critically over his naked body, barely concealed by a thin blue sheet, and give a minute shake of her head. Her chin would thrust out. Quentin, get up and come with me. Don’t make me wait. We’re getting you back in therapy. I may, possibly, forgive you someday when you’ve earned it.
Right. And until then, she’d sleep with Charles, because “a woman has needs”. Quinn took in a deep breath and fisted the sheet tightly. He’d told himself he would think about these things “tomorrow”. Well, the day had arrived, and he didn’t know any more than the night before where he stood on the matter at hand.
All he knew was that he’d lain all night in the arms of someone who cared enough to comfort him when he was sick at heart. Someone who’d given him what he—to be honest with himself—had craved ever since trying to turn his life onto a straighter path. A plain-speaking, honest-dealing person who hadn’t promised anything or offered any threats.
It might still be a bad idea, but Quinn couldn’t help wanting this fragile bubble of contentment to last. Unclenching his hands, he took several deep breaths before deliberately banishing the scolding voices from his mind. To hell with them all, at least for the time being. This might be insanity, but reality was far too cold to face just then.
Billy. He needed Billy. Where was he?
Quinn reached out to run his hand across the space where Billy had lain. Still warm. He must not have gotten up too much earlier than Quinn himself. How odd that such a night owl should also be a morning person.
But he might have stayed until Quinn woke, mightn’t he? Or had Billy stirred in his sleep, discovered who he lay with and fled in disgust?
Please, God, no. Quinn sat up, acutely aware of the ache in his ass and his total nudity. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grasped automatically for his pants, lying in a puddle on the floor, then hesitated. He had a hypothesis about how the morning was going, yes, but no way to test it.
Or did he?
Water was running in the bathroom. The shower, it sounded like, going at full blast. The air was growing moist, as if Billy had left the door open like he usually did. Warm and damp. Quinn could hear Billy singing over the sound of the water falling, some growly rocker tune Quinn didn’t know.
Billy wouldn’t be singing if he were in a bad mood, would he? And if he were anything like Quinn’s past lovers, he would have kicked Quinn out of his bed the moment he woke up, not left him lying there.
Developing that hypothesis, Quinn slipped out of bed. It felt uncomfortable to be naked instead of garbed in pajamas or robe, but he deliberately shook off the feeling of discomfiture. His clothes lay on the floor in the midst of a tangle of empty cans, an overflowing ashtray and Billy’s scattered wardrobe, but he left his own trousers and shirt alone. With one toe, he prodded at the flannel sleep pants Billy had been wearing. They were as soft and as rich a blue as he remembered, as deep a gentian shade as violets, if washed so often that they were faded at the knees.
Time to see how brave he could be. Trusting in the validity of his suspicions, Quinn made his way out of Billy’s bedroom without getting dressed. The bathroom was directly across their narrow hallway, and, as he had predicted, the door was open a crack. Billy’s singing was even louder out here, his rough voice ripping through the tune with gleeful abandon.
Quinn swallowed, feeling a lump go down his throat and settle heavily in his stomach. Fisting both of his hands, he raised one to knock on the door. “Billy?”
The singing went on.
Quinn tried again, sticking his head inside the door. A blast of steam hit him in the face, along with the rich smell of woodsy soap and fresh water. He raised his voice. “Billy? Are you in here?” A fool’s question, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “It’s Quinn,” he added, just in case Billy had forgotten.
There was a pause, then Billy pulled the curtain back. Water splattered on the floor, completely disregarded. The red streaks in his hair had gone a dark magenta when soaked. Beads of steaming water ran down his body, from nipples to impressive cock. The dark blond of his undyed hair matched the nest of curls at his groin.
Billy grinned broadly. “Hey, you woke up. I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed after I washed off.”
Quinn felt unusually touched. No one had ever done something like that for him. And if Billy had planned to feed Quinn, then perhaps he wasn’t regretting what they’d done the night before. “You were?”
“Yeah. I know you usually like all that health-food shit, but I was going to fix you eggs and bacon. Maybe a piece of fruit on the side.” Billy’s eyes twinkled. “So, you gonna come on in here, or do I have to come out and get you? You look good enough to eat standing there with everything swinging in the wind. C’mon, there’s room for two.”
Quinn blushed, but he stepped forward as he’d been bid. Billy held the shower curtain patiently until Quinn had carefully gotten in with him, then jerked it back. Before Quinn could adjust to the idea of being in a shower with another man after years without the treat, Billy seized him by the waist and ran one soap-slippery hand up his back. He pulled Quinn close and kissed him roughly, sliding his tongue into Quinn’s mouth.
Quinn surrendered willingly. The feeling of being kissed as if he were desired was a heady one, flooding him with all sorts of endorphins, making him feel reckless. He brought his own hands into play, reaching down to squeeze Billy’s ass cheeks.
Billy jumped a little and let out a laugh. Parting their lips, he chuckled and said, “Hey, you don’t mess around, do you? Knew you wouldn’t, though. Once you climbed out of your shell, no going back, right?”
Quinn wasn’t too sure, but he nodded all the same. “Kiss me again?” The longer he and Billy were tangled together like this, the less he had to think. “More. Deeper. Harder.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Billy growled, bringing their mouths together a second time. He slanted his lips over Quinn’s, nuzzling in for a hard kiss full of tongue and teeth, the embrace setting Quinn’s head to spinning. His hands wandered over Quinn’s back, leaving trails of fire in their wake until he reached Quinn’s own ass. The feel of hands there made Quinn jump, but Billy gave them a playful squeeze all the same.
Billy sucked on Quinn’s lip, then pulled off. This close, Quinn could really and truly see his eyes twinkling. “Good morning,” he said softly, kneading Quinn’s ass. “Some kind of way to wake up, huh?”
Quinn licked his lips. “Good morning,” he answered, feeling suddenly shy and gawky and awkward. Billy was so practiced and polished at this that Quinn felt like a bumbling teenager again. He had to redeem himself somehow. “Do you want me to wash your back?” he blurted.
Billy cocked his head to the side, considering the question. “If you want to, sure. There’s a washcloth hanging off the faucet.”
“I know. You always leave one there, soaking wet.” Quinn surprised himself by laughing. “And I always—”
“Yell at me about it, yeah. I know.” Billy’s fingers began to wander toward the crease of Quinn’s ass. “You sore?”
Quinn shook his head. “Not too badly.”
“Damn. I was hoping you’d remember me every time you sat down today.”
“Rest assured, I will.”
“You still have that Saturday class?”
“We have time.” Quinn dared to raise his hand to stroke a line down Billy’s wet spine. The water spattered off Billy’s back. He himself was still mostly dry, feeling sandpapery, but he found that he didn’t mind. A hunger was growing inside him
. An inclination he hadn’t given in to for…he couldn’t remember how long. He cleared his throat. “I think I know something you’d like better than washing, though.”
“Oh, yeah?” Billy’s grin broadened a little. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Quinn? New game?”
“New to me,” Quinn answered honestly. “Or, at least, it’s been a long, long time since I played.”
“Will I like this game?”
“If I do it right.” Quinn brought his hand around to press the palm against Billy’s chest, mirroring his action of the night before. He could feel Billy’s heart beating against his fingers, the pulse growing quicker. “Be patient with me?”
“Always. Go on and do what you want.”
Quinn took in a deep breath. “All right. But no laughing at me. Do you promise?”
“Swear.” Billy pressed Quinn’s ass hard enough that he brought their groins into contact. Quinn realized that Billy was more than half-hard, and recognized the tingling in his own balls as the signal of a growing erection. “Mmm. This is good right here, though.”
It would have been heaven just to stand there and let Billy lead him in rubbing off against one another, but now Quinn ached to act on his previous impulse. “No,” he said. “Wait. I want to do this.”
Billy pretended to pout. “Okay, do what you want. But the offer stands.” He offered a lewd grin and thrust against Quinn, gyrating their hips together.
Quinn couldn’t help a laugh, surprising himself by the way it pealed, loud and free, against the tiled walls of the shower. “I hope you’ll like this. It’s been years, though. Don’t expect me to be an expert.”
“I think I’m starting to get an idea of what you have in mind. Baby, there’s no way to do this wrong.”
“We’ll see.” Careful not to slip, Quinn began lowering himself onto his knees. The shower floor was cold and the tiles were hard, but he considered those to be only minor inconveniences. In his new position, Quinn was at mouth level with Billy’s cock, which was growing stiffer by the second. Slowly, he reached out and took one of Billy’s hips in a hand, and used the other to direct that prick to his mouth. He blew across the tip, flickering his tongue out to taste.
“Oh, God, Quinn,” Billy groaned. “Please.”
The thought of reducing Billy to incoherence excited Quinn. He took another deep breath, then slid his lips over the crown of Billy’s cock and tried a suck. Billy groaned as Quinn applied suction, tasting the bitter saltiness of cock for what felt like the first time. Billy had his own unique flavor. Not sweet like some men Quinn had tasted once upon a time, but ashy, as if the cigarettes he constantly smoked affected every bit of his system. He found that he didn’t mind the flavor. In fact, he liked it.
“Come on, come on,” Billy urged, tangling his hands into Quinn’s hair, growing wet with spray from the hot shower. “Fuck, Quinn. Oh, yeah.”
Encouraged, Quinn slid his mouth a little further down. He was careful to keep his lips wrapped over his teeth—he remembered that much—but went slowly, not knowing how much he could take in. Billy’s cock was just as large as he remembered, almost wider than his mouth could handle, but doable with a stretch.
Billy moaned, stumbling a little. Quinn registered the man pressing a hand against the wall to steady himself. He decided to help out by gripping both of Billy’s hips, holding the man upright as he worked at pleasing Billy’s cock. Careful not to startle Billy, he began, hesitantly, to use his tongue. Tentative laps at first, then, as he grew used to the texture, bolder strokes along the thrumming veins.
The hot water soaked Quinn as he sucked Billy’s cock. Warm sheets of water coated him from hair to back, trickling around his knees. He closed his eyes and nursed at Billy’s dick as if it held the milk of life. He wasn’t thinking, deliberately not thinking, about anything beyond bringing Billy off. He’d stop and consider everything later, in due time.
Now was the time to use his mouth for something besides speech. Although clumsy, he lashed Billy’s cock with his tongue, drawing off to probe at the slit, then sliding back down as far as he could. Suction while going down and coming up, faster and faster, until his head was bobbing and Billy was cursing a blue streak.
Billy’s hands tightened in his hair. “Quinn,” he choked. “Gonna—gonna—”
Quinn kneaded his hips, encouraging him without words. He wanted to taste Billy’s come pouring over his tongue, to savor the flavor of the man’s most intimate place. Humming under his breath, he sucked as hard as he could, and pressed hard with his tongue.
Oh! He’d forgotten. Removing one hand, Quinn brought it around to cup Billy’s balls. In his eagerness, he squeezed a little too hard, rougher than most men would like.
Apparently, though, it was exactly what Billy needed. Throwing his head back and letting out a strangled roar, he came in a rush, flooding Quinn’s mouth with bitter-salty come. No matter how long it had been, there were some things a man didn’t forget, and Quinn swallowed the thick stuff automatically, savoring the taste as the come poured into his mouth in spurts.
He didn’t stop working his tongue until Billy’s orgasm had wrung itself dry, and then cleaned the man’s cock off until there was no trace of semen left. Finished, he drew off and looked up, hoping for some kind of approval.
Billy was staring down at him with an unreadable look. Not even his eyes gave away what he was thinking. Quinn began to grow nervous and knew his own expression was faltering. “Didn’t—didn’t you enjoy…?”
“Come here,” Billy growled. Grabbing Quinn by one arm, Billy hauled him back up to his feet. “You idiot,” he mock-griped before kissing Quinn hard, a clash of mouth against his mouth. “The coming like a geyser wasn’t a clue? Hell, yeah, I liked it. I’m just surprised you had it in you.”
“I do now,” Quinn replied seriously, then broke into a smile when Billy guffawed. Tentatively, he assayed, “And I like it, too.”
“I bet you do.” Billy reached up to cup Quinn’s cheek. “So you want to tell me what that was all about? And don’t tell me it was just returning the favor, because I know you. You wouldn’t go down on someone unless you had a damn good reason. I want to hear. Spill.”
Quinn searched his mind and could find no good excuse or speech, so he settled on dissuasion. “I don’t know.”
Billy regarded him through narrowed eyes, then nodded. “Fair enough. But never let it be said that I’m a selfish lover. You showed me a good time. My turn.” His hand was suddenly grasping Quinn’s cock, reminding him of how hard it was, pounding with need. Quinn gasped at the contact, a shock wave rolling through his body. “You want this,” Billy said with confidence. “Let go, baby. Just feel.”
His hand stroked up and down Quinn’s cock, an expert touch, clever at knowing exactly what Quinn liked. Not too hard, not too easy. He touched Quinn as if cherishing him, loving the feel of his prick, fingers squeezing and dancing.
Quinn ducked his head under the spray and pressed it into Billy’s shoulder. Billy made low, approving noises and quickened his tempo, jacking Quinn harder. He paused only long enough to reach down and roll Quinn’s balls in his palm, teasing him with blasts of sensation, before coming back to cup Quinn’s cock in his hand and working it as if it were his own.
It was hard to breathe, to think, and saying anything was completely out of the question. All Quinn could do was make low, needy noises as Billy manipulated his prick, the touch stripping him bare of anything but pure desire. His cock grew even stiffer, if that was possible, and he felt the inevitable begin to flood in.
“Billy,” he managed to warn. Billy laughed, short in breath, as he squeezed hard, then flicked a thumbnail against the head of Quinn’s cock.
“Come for me, baby,” he ordered. The sound of his voice and the unbearably good feeling pushed Quinn over the edge. He let out a long, wordless cry as the orgasm burst through him, pushing out through his cock in long, ropy streams of come. The heavy whitish fluid splattered against Billy’s le
gs, washed away by the water, disappearing down the drain.
Utterly without strength, Quinn collapsed against Billy. The man’s strong arms surrounded him, holding him up as he himself had done earlier. Underneath the spattering of the shower water, Quinn heard Billy hushing and soothing him as his shoulders hitched. He wasn’t crying, not exactly, but he felt so close to giving into tears that he might as well have been shedding them.
After a long pause, Billy helped Quinn straighten. Putting two fingers under Quinn’s chin, Billy tilted his head at the right angle for a long, sweet kiss. “Good,” Billy whispered into the touch of mouth against mouth. “You did so good.”
Quinn basked in the praise. “Thank you,” he breathed, feeling Billy’s lips tickle against his own. “For…for…”
“Hush. It’s okay.” Billy held him close. “I know you, right? I can almost read your mind. I know what’s going on in there. Don’t think too hard, not right now. Just feel. Ride this roller coaster. Up or down, doesn’t matter. You’ve got me, and I’m not letting go of you. Forget everything else. Hear me?”
Quinn had begun to shiver, but he nodded. He obeyed, just as he was accustomed to. “Billy,” he breathed. “This is so much…”
“It’s not too much. You love what I’m doing to you. Get used to it. I told you, I’m not letting you go. You’re mine now.” He said it with such cocky confidence that it shored up some of Quinn’s doubts, all poised and ready to flood back in. “You’re going to stay mine, too.”
Letting go just a little, he picked up the washcloth, still soapy, from its place on the spigot and began to wash Quinn’s chest. He hummed a little as he worked, making broad circles of foam between Quinn’s nipples. “Good?”
“Oh, yes. Very good.” Quinn stifled the voices that wanted to rush back in, shutting them up with all the sheer force of will he possessed. He’d think about things later. Right now, he was with Billy, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it? “More?”