You deserve all the nice stuff. Spencer stopped the supremely sappy thought before it could spew forth. He resolved to slip the bottle of this basil-eucalyptus shower gel into Del’s backpack before he left. He was generous with the soap, avoiding the bruises but taking his time to knead Del’s tight muscles.
“Fuck. Forget food and sex. I just want more of this.” Del turned so the water pounded his back, resting his head against the tiles. The water was slightly warmer than Spencer typically had it, so he was happy to let Del get most of the spray from both showerheads while he got to work on the broad planes of his shoulders, rubbing out the knots, working up a good lather before the water rinsed it away. On a mission of sorts, he dropped to his knees.
“Spread your legs,” he encouraged.
“What? You don’t have to...” Del sounded drowsy as he complied, shifting his stance. God, he was so gorgeous, with a tight, high ass that Spencer took his time massaging and washing, soapy fingers teasing the crack, testing his responses.
“Oh man... Fuck. Like that.” Del groaned beautifully, spreading his legs further, pushing back against Spencer’s fingers.
He let the water rinse Del before lightly biting one muscled cheek. As he’d hoped, that got another groan. He licked and bit his way to his crack, then spread him open. Usually, Spencer was a bit...finicky about whom he did this for and when, but Del, clean and warm, moaning softly, ass not-so-subtly rocking toward Spencer, was a treat he couldn’t resist. And so he made a feast of his hole, licking and sucking with a voracity that surprised even himself.
“Jesus fuck, Spencer. Spencer.” Del was shaking above him, voice wobbling. Steam enveloped them, enhancing the sense of their own little universe here with the hot water cascading over them and Del coming apart for him. Reaching down, Del fisted his cock. “If I promise I can go again, can I... Fuck...this is too good.”
“Yeah, stroke yourself off.” This wasn’t simply foreplay for Spencer. It was part of taking care of him, part of making sure he felt good, giving him the space to be Del, the man, instead of Bacon, the always-on SEAL. Sure, he wanted to fuck him, but more than that, he wanted to give him a safe place to shatter, and someone to put him back together afterward.
“Oh, God. More.” Del’s voice was a low whine now as Spencer flicked his tongue all around the rim before using the tip of his tongue to work him soft and open, making love to him with his mouth, soul thrilling with each strangled cry that escaped Del’s throat. He’d made the guy climax twice before, but this was the first time that he felt in control, felt Del actively giving in to the pleasure Spencer wanted to give him. “Fuck me. Here. Don’t make me wait.”
“Oh, but you promised me you could go again. I want to feel you come. Come for me, Del.” Spencer resumed his onslaught before Del could protest further. Using his hands to hold him open, he worked his tongue over all the spots he’d already learned made Del gasp and moan and stroke himself faster until he came all over the shower wall with a shout of Spencer’s name.
Stifling a curse at the number the unforgiving tile floor had done on his knees, Spencer stood so he could embrace Del, hold him while he shuddered.
“Fuck. I love your water heater. And that...wow. Tell me you’re going to fuck me now. Please?”
“Oh, you are so getting fucked.” Spencer bit at the Gothic-looking tattoo on Del’s shoulder. “But we can stay in here as long as you need.”
“Mmm.” Del spun, capturing Spencer’s mouth in an eager kiss. “Much as I’m willing to sign a prenup and pick out china with this shower, I want you more. Take me to your bed, Spencer.”
Chapter Fifteen
Bacon liked Spencer’s bathroom enough that he was almost reluctant to leave its warm confines to go find Spencer’s bed. Almost. He did want to fuck, and while the bathroom—hell the fluffy bathmat even—held certain appeal, so did a bed he could collapse in afterward.
“Coming, Del?” Spencer held the door open for him. He’d retrieved condoms and lube from a drawer in the bathroom vanity after toweling off.
“Yeah.” He liked when Spencer called him Del in that cultured voice of his, deep and soothing. He couldn’t quite think of himself that way yet, but he liked the nickname, liked being that guy for Spencer.
Spencer’s bedroom was large and airy like the rest of the loft, the high ceilings and natural light through a bank of windows contrasting with the dark gray bedding and black-and-white prints on the wall. Most of the photos were male dancers in various states of nakedness. Hot yet classy, much like Spencer himself.
“Any of these of you?”
“No.” Spencer laughed. “I’m hardly that photogenic. Or that much of an egoist to put myself on the wall. They’re all done by a photographer friend—the party I mentioned in the email is for him.”
“He does good work.” Bacon wasn’t sure how to angle for going to the party with Spencer, or if he even wanted that, so instead he leered. “You should pose for him. I wanna see you in tights. Or workout shorts. Whatever you wear to dance class.”
“Barre class is hardly about sultry clothes.” Spencer laughed and gently pushed Bacon in the direction of the bed. “But I bet I can find tights you’d like. Later.”
His intent stare made Bacon squirm in the best way possible and reminded him that while he’d had a bone-melting orgasm, Spencer had not.
“How do you want me?” he asked as Spencer pulled back the covers and tossed the supplies on the bed.
“Exactly how you were in the shower. All blissed out and begging for my cock.”
“That can be arranged. You gonna give me your mouth again?” Letting his towel flutter to the floor, he stretched out on the large bed—had to be a king, which felt like such a luxury after years of singles.
Discarding his own towel, Spencer lay down next to him, pulling him in for a kiss that was full of filthy promises. “You liked being rimmed, huh?”
“Loved it.” Bacon wasn’t above being shameless.
“How do you feel about fingers?” Spencer reached for the lube.
“I’m in favor of them. Feel free to go right to your dick, though. I like a good stretch.”
“Guess that answers my question of whether you’ve done this before.” Spencer laughed and gave him another kiss. Damn, but the man could kiss—all barely contained heat contrasted with practiced finesse.
“Yeah. Dicks. Fingers. Tongues. Dildos. My ass is kind of an undiscriminating attention whore. You’re not gonna hurt me if you fuck hard.” He winked at Spencer. “But feel free to try. Go hard, but now please.”
“You are so delightfully not at all what I expected.” Spencer pulled him close, tongue tracing his lips before licking its way into Bacon’s mouth. While they kissed, Spencer fiddled with the lube and then his slick fingers started tormenting Bacon.
“What part of now didn’t you understand?” he growled as Spencer masterfully played his nerve endings, circling and teasing, pressing in but then retreating.
“The part where I’m in charge.” Spencer punctuated his words by finally going deep enough to graze his gland, working that spot till Bacon was writhing on the sheets. His cock had never completely gone down from earlier and was back at full, insistent mast. Spencer seemed content to wait until he was a begging mess.
“Fuck me. Now. Please. Spencer. God, I need it.”
“You want me to fuck you good? Take you hard?”
“God, yes. Please.” He didn’t even try to keep the tremble out of his voice.
“Flip. Get that ass in the air for me.”
Fucking hell, but bossy Spencer was a sight to behold, and Bacon reveled in his commands and the hard edge to his voice. He rolled, resting his head on his folded arms, ass up as requested.
He expected more of Spencer’s fingers, but maybe Spencer wasn’t as patient as he seemed as the next sensation was Spencer’s latex-clad dick s
liding up and down his crack.
“This what you need?”
“Yes.” He tried to rock back onto Spencer’s hard cock, but he stopped him with a hand on his him.
“I’m driving here. I’ll get you where you need to be, promise.”
“Ungh. Now.” He almost didn’t recognize the whines coming from his throat. It had been a long time since he’d been this desperate, wanted someone this much.
Spencer started a slow, torturous slide in. He had a long cock with an elegant left-leaning curve to it, and he absolutely knew how to use it, stretching Bacon slow and steady until he was panting and begging.
“Fuck me. Hard. Need to feel it.”
“Need this?” Spencer finally gave him a hard thrust, balls slapping against Bacon’s ass. “Tell me, Del. Tell me what you need.”
“Need your cock. All of it. God.” And in that instant, he was Del, the needy fuck, the emo guy who craved Spencer’s dirty commands more than air, the shuddering collection of nerve endings being slowly turned inside out by Spencer’s relentless authority.
“Need this?” Spencer started a hard but slow rhythm, deep punishing thrusts, each pushing another whimper out of Del’s chest.
“Faster. Please.”
“I go fast, I’m going to come. You want that?”
“God, yes.” He wanted that more than he wanted his own climax even, wanted to feel Spencer come apart while he owned his ass.
“Get a hand on your dick. Show me how much you like this.”
“Fuck.” It was like Spencer had pried him open, found a playlist of all his kinks, and was now masterfully exploiting every last one of them. Del almost didn’t need his hand to get there. “You’re gonna get me off.”
“Good. I want to feel you come. Want to hear it too. Tell me you need this.”
“Fuck, yes. Need your cock. Get me off, Spencer, please.”
Spencer responded by finally speeding up, a series of thrusts so accurate it was like he had a beacon for finding his gland. Del felt the climax building, starting with tension in his legs and shoulders, spreading to his back, whole body starting to vibrate with need. It was different than the sort of adrenaline that came with a hard workout. This felt almost more than he could handle, like he was coming apart at the seams. Happily. Joyously. As if he couldn’t wait to see what was left after he shattered.
“Come on. Come for me,” Spencer urged, voice hard, and it was that harshness, the way he made Del feel taken, owned that got him off.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” His voice broke as slick fluid coated his fist. Then Spencer was groaning too, losing control in the way he’d craved so much—hammering hard, fingers digging into Del’s waist as he came with a shout.
“Del. Fuck. Del.” Spencer was surprisingly gentle as he pulled out and then gathered Del to him as they both collapsed onto the bed. This blend of tenderness and control just worked for him, so much, made it easier to just soak it all up. Spencer pressed kisses along his hairline. “You okay?”
“More than.”
“Good. I had plans for going slow and gentle—”
“Fuck that,” he groaned with no real ire. “No fun in that.”
“You’re...something.”
“Guilty,” he yawned. “And fuck, now I’m tired.”
“Rest.” Spencer kissed his shoulder. “I’m going to start dinner.”
“I should help—”
“You should rest,” Spencer said firmly. “Even if you don’t drift off, just rest. You need it.”
No more arguments, he floated along in that happy space between sleep and waking for a long time until he realized with a start that he’d actually fallen asleep. Darkness had settled over the room with good smells drifting in through the open door.
Not sure what the dress code was here, he retrieved his boxers from the bathroom after cleaning up, then went in search of Spencer, who was wearing a pair of gray pants and no shirt and stirring a pot of something on the stove. Instrumental jazz came out of speakers near the entertainment center.
“I...I should go get dressed,” he said awkwardly.
“No way.” Spencer gave him an exaggerated once-over before pointing to a bar stool. “Come here and look pretty while I finish the food.”
Spencer was the pretty one—gray hair damp, like he’d taken a second shower, chest peppered with hair and pebbled pink nipples that made Bacon’s mouth water. He wasn’t bulky at all, but his lean, corded muscles were sexy as fuck, especially when they flexed to drain a pot of ravioli.
“I went with chicken, not salmon, in deference to your tastes, but otherwise I thought I’d keep the same menu as I described in the email.” The tips of Spencer’s ears went pink, and something equally warm heated in Bacon’s insides. He liked knowing that Spencer had gone to trouble for him.
“Smells amazing.”
“Here. Try the wine. This Sauv Blanc is very well-rounded and drinkable, and I’m eager to see what you think.” Spencer handed him a goblet with a delicate stem that Bacon had to hope he wasn’t going to accidentally snap.
“I haven’t had alcohol in over a month, and I’m really tired of trading MREs with Shiny or finding out what the chow hall can do with rice. I’m going to be easy to impress.”
Spencer laughed but kept looking at him like he really cared about his reaction. The wine was crisp and clean tasting and not too oaky which was pretty much all Bacon required from a wine.
“It’s good. Tasty. I’m already plotting a poly triad with your mattress and your shower. Might invite the wine for some action too.”
“You’re right. You are easy to impress.” Spencer gave him a quick wine-laced kiss. Bacon’s mom enjoyed cooking for him, but she didn’t do the whole nicely set table and carefully plated food like Spencer, who made it feel more like he was in a high-end restaurant. In his underwear.
In short order, Spencer brought two plates to the dining table. His had more of the medley of asparagus, carrots, and zucchini and just a few strips of chicken while Bacon had a generous fan of perfectly done chicken with some sort of herb sauce and a big portion of the pasta. The pasta was different but good, and Bacon was just so damn hungry that he kind of forgot he was supposed to be making small talk until his plate was half-empty.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “We were in the field most of the last week. Then the flight home—”
“Don’t apologize. Please.” Spencer patted his arm. “I like watching you eat like a wild animal. You’re fun to cook for. And I made plenty. Dessert too.”
“That tart?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes.” Spencer gave him an indulgent smile. “And I know you probably can’t tell me about the mission—”
“You’d be right.” Bacon made sure his regret over that showed in his tone. He wouldn’t mind telling Spencer all about it, but he had to be careful here.
“But was it a success?”
“You could call it that, yeah. But I mean, any deployment that ends with two of our guys out on medical leave is hardly a rousing success.” He shuddered and took a long drink of the wine.
“They didn’t die, though, right? That’s something.”
“Not sure D—he’s going to see it that way. The one guy was injured in a blast. Ultimately he lost a leg, a foot, and a hand. He’ll never serve again.” He ran a hand through his hair. Trying to not tell Spencer too much was hard. Even now, his mouth soured thinking of the extent of Donaldson’s injuries. “Sucks. And I’ve known these guys for years. I know the long road ahead.”
“It does suck.” Spencer squeezed his arm across the table again. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad they didn’t die either.”
“Thanks.” His pasta hardened to a lead balloon in his belly at the reminder that he probably shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be pursuing this...whatever it was with Spencer. Plenty of his teammat
es wouldn’t understand what he was doing, for a variety of reasons.
But then he took a sip of the wine, let its clean flavor mellow out the tension in his throat, and glanced at Spencer, who was looking at him with soft concern. That right there. That look. He hadn’t had someone who cared in an awfully long time, and while he knew better than to get all fanciful about Spencer and where this thing was going, he was going to enjoy this as long as it lasted. Screw the outside world. All he knew was that he liked who he was when he was with Spencer and he wanted more time with that self.
Chapter Sixteen
“Four this morning? Got company?” The woman at the counter of the bagel place next to Spencer’s building had been serving him for years, and knew his order of an everything bagel, smoked salmon cream cheese, and a gourmet-brand orange juice by heart. Melba had to be seventy now, and she’d known him through the single years, the marriage to Greg, and beyond. So he guessed she’d earned her nosiness but it still rankled.
“Maybe.” He gave her an arch look. “And put the everything bagel in a separate bag—don’t want to contaminate the sweet bagels.”
He’d picked out a selection of offerings for Del to choose from—cinnamon crunch, cranberry, and blueberry with honey cream cheese on the side. He’d left Del passed out in his bed, sprawled in the center like he’d been there for years. The poor guy needed every scrap of extra sleep he could get, so Spencer had left him a note before heading to his early morning barre class. He’d figured he’d be nice and return with food for them both, but Melba was taking her sweet time filling his order. He hoped Del was still asleep when he made it back. Just the thought of waking him up, maybe sharing another shower together, had him shifting from side to side to avoid getting too aroused in the middle of the bagel joint.
While waiting, he noticed ice cream in the freezer case. They had cherry vanilla. He added a carton to his order with the juice. He’d stash it in the freezer for Del for later.
“Okay, hon, here you go.” Finally, Melba rang him up and Spencer tucked his purchases into his messenger bag and headed back to his building. But as he passed the trendy boutique located in the lobby, he paused. The place sold a lot of club wear for all genders—tight pants, little tops with painfully ironic slogans, and lots of black and silver. Spencer couldn’t say he’d ever made a purchase there, and honestly, he still missed the lo mein of the previous tenant.
Tight Quarters Page 15