A Fortunate Blizzard

by L. C. Chase

  Trevor shook his head. “I’ll be roughing it somewhere in the lobby tonight.” The faint inflection on that last word very nearly made Trevor’s comment a question, and a wave of hope crossed his features, splashed over the table, and began to fill up Marc.

  Marc held Trevor’s gaze. “I have a room.”

  A glass clinked and someone laughed boisterously, but the cacophony was muted, just low enough to register but not loud enough to actually decipher. All Marc could focus on was the hunger—and not of the empty-stomach variety—radiating from the man across from him. Marc was certain if he looked close enough he would see tiny bursts of blue-white energy snapping and exploding between them.

  “It has a king-sized bed. You’re welcome to share it with me. Uh . . . the room, I mean. I’m pretty sure it has a rollaway.” Where the hell had those nerves come from? Jesus.

  Marc resisted the urge to tug at his tie, only then remembering he’d taken it off earlier after he’d checked in. They’d been sparring innuendo all night, so he was sure Trevor knew where this was leading, but still, he didn’t want to be presumptuous. He pulled at his watch strap. “At the very least you can get a hot shower and a proper night’s sleep.”

  “I—” Uncertainty crossed Trevor’s features, and he looked away for a second.

  Maybe he’d been reading Trevor all wrong.

  But then the sides of Trevor’s mouth tipped upward and his eyes darkened when they once again met Marc’s. “I’d like that. Very much.” His voice, deep and husky, had Marc’s desire beelining straight to his groin. “Thank you.”

  Marc nodded, then cleared his suddenly dry throat and downed the last of his drink. “Shall we, then?”

  Trevor’s smile widened, and the air crackling between them grew louder. “Lead on.”

  Marc stood and shoved his hands into his pockets to stop them from trembling. It wasn’t like he’d never had a hookup before, but this felt . . . different somehow. Why, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was because the few hookups he’d experienced had involved a nightclub, liberal amounts of alcohol, and minimal conversation before coming to a mutually beneficial release. This time he’d spent hours getting to know Trevor, and he’d enjoyed every second of it. Enjoyed it so much that, shockingly, if Trevor really did just want to sleep on the rollaway, he’d still be happy to have Trevor’s company for the night. Well, mostly.

  Trevor gathered his bag and jacket and stood facing Marc, waiting for him to show the way. Again, that invisible current snapped between them, pulling at Marc and burrowing a little deeper under his skin, sinking into his bones. Trevor moved aside and placed a hand on the small of Marc’s back, guiding him forward. That tiny, gentle touch stole his breath and awakened his senses even more.

  Hyperaware of Trevor behind him, the nearness, the heat of him, Marc caught the leg of a chair with his foot and stumbled. A firm grip on his biceps kept him from tipping past his center of gravity. Jesus, Roberts. Pay attention!

  He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, hoping Trevor wouldn’t notice how red his face must be. This was not like him. He didn’t get flustered over men, he wasn’t klutzy, but for whatever reason, here he was, fumbling around like a high schooler on a first date.

  This is not a date, he reminded himself quickly. This is a hookup. Period, full stop.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Trevor nodded, an amused grin on his face, but he didn’t drop his hand from Marc’s arm until they stepped out into the lobby. The release was slow, like a caress, and a tingle lingered in its wake.

  They walked side by side in silence, shoulders brushing, anticipation and excitement sparking in the atmosphere surrounding them. They paused at the elevator doors, and Marc took a deep breath. This time he knew where his nerves came from: he hated elevators.

  Steeling himself, he reached out and pressed the Up button with a slow, shaky finger.

  “I take it you’re not a fan of the vertical lift?” Trevor asked, pointing to Marc’s unsteady hand.

  He shook his head. “I never take elevators.”

  “Ever?” Trevor raised his eyebrows, as if he’d never heard of such a thing.

  “Not if I can help it.” A bell dinged, alerting them to the arrival of their car. “And my office downtown is on the seventh floor.”

  “You must have fantastic glutes.”

  “Maybe you’ll find out,” Marc said under his breath once Trevor had walked into the vacant car ahead of him.

  Trevor leaned against the back wall and dropped his bag to the floor, his eyes inviting, his smile seductive, and Marc didn’t wait for the elevator doors to shut. Two quick steps brought him into Trevor’s space, close enough to feel the soft gusts of breath fanning his cheek.

  “Hold on!” someone shouted, and then a hand snaked between the closing doors, forcing them back open, and a frazzled-looking woman pushed inside. Marc managed to suppress a groan and stepped back to press number five on the keypad. He met Trevor’s eyes and grinned, receiving a roll of the eyes and subtle head shake in return.

  The woman pressed floor number nine—figures—and then shook the snow off her coat.

  “Phew! What a night, huh?”

  Marc couldn’t agree more. This was going to be one long elevator ride.

  Marc sat on the edge of the bed and blindly flipped through the channels on the TV, his body thrumming with nervous anticipation. All he could hear was the sound of the shower roaring in his ears like a tidal wave. An imaginary movie played in his mind, featuring one very naked Trevor, water running down his tall, lanky frame. Soap suds sliding lazily over muscle and skin and hair. Oh, how he hoped Trevor had hair on his chest and didn’t manscape anywhere. Nothing turned him on more than playing with the soft pelt covering a man’s chest, burying his nose in crinkly musk-scented pubic hair . . .

  And what he wouldn’t give to be that bar of soap right now, licking and tasting every glorious dip and swell, nook and cranny with his tongue.

  A groan rolled up his throat, and he opened the front of his slacks, spreading his legs wide. Relief from the pressure of being constricted quickly led to a throbbing need for release. It had been a long time since he’d gone out with the intention of hooking up, and it’d been a good two years since his attempt at a relationship with Tony. He hadn’t realized how much he needed a night like this, a night of simple human interaction at its most basic and primal. A brief interlude from his attempts to become the most successful son any mother could hope for.

  The sound of running water stopped, metal screeched on metal, the shower curtain probably being pulled back. A moment of silence before the bathroom door swung open. Trevor stood there, steam dancing behind him, wearing only a towel slung loosely around his trim waist. There was a cream-colored bandage around Trevor’s left biceps, but Marc’s attention was drawn back to the towel like a moth to a flame. The ends didn’t quite meet, exposing a meaty upper thigh and coming dangerously close to revealing an enticing bulge. A dusting of dark hair covered Trevor’s chest. Not too thick, just a nice layering over well-defined pecs and abs, and a clear treasure trail leading down beneath the towel. Marc’s fingers twitched with the need to touch.

  “Sorry.” Trevor’s voice sounded rough and anything but apologetic. “I forgot to take a change of clothes into the bathroom with me.” But he made no move to get dressed, as steam continued to drift out from behind him and water droplets trickled down his shoulders and chest, glittering like diamonds.

  Marc nodded. Between the beautiful nearly naked man in his room and that sultry voice, there wasn’t much blood left in his brain for optimum functioning.

  He stared at Trevor. Trevor stared back. The electricity Marc had felt earlier crackled between them again, pricking at his skin and sending a flood of goose bumps over his arms. He swallowed and pushed the heel of his hand against his erection, seeking friction and drawing Trevor’s gaze. When their eyes reconnected, Trevor licked his lips.

  That was all the invitation Marc needed. H
e rose from the bed and crossed the short distance, slow and deliberate. Trevor didn’t move a muscle, other than to lift one side of his mouth until it formed the sexiest, most wicked grin Marc had ever seen.

  He stopped a foot shy of Trevor and reached out with one hand, then paused, letting his fingertips hover just over the surface of Trevor’s belly. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his moist flesh, to feel the rousing tingle of desire jump the slim space between them like a living thing, enticing him, captivating him.

  He raised his eyes to meet Trevor’s heavy-hooded blues. “Yes?”

  “Yes.” His hoarse whisper resonated with a need that echoed Marc’s. “Please.”

  Oh, where to begin? All that sleek, hot, shower-damp skin . . .

  Marc touched his index and middle fingertips to the ledge of an abdominal muscle just above Trevor’s navel. Trevor’s sharp intake of breath sent a jolt of desire skittering through Marc. He traced the shape before flattening his palm over the firm muscle, moving slowly upward, following curves and contours until his hand rested on the flat plane of Trevor’s left pectoral. He brought his other hand up to Trevor’s chest and slid them both over Trevor’s collarbone, along the corded muscles of his neck, and then cupped his face.

  Trevor trembled, his breath coming quicker, shallower, but otherwise he remained still. He let Marc explore as he wanted, waiting, maybe to see what Marc would do or what their roles would be. Marc didn’t care. All he knew with any certainty was that he wanted Trevor. The how didn’t matter.

  He pulled Trevor to him, and their lips met for the first time. The sparks that had been zapping between them all night exploded bright and brilliant. There was none of that awkward first-kiss business Marc had experienced before. With Trevor only an inch or two taller than him, there was no issue of them angling the same way at the same time and bumping noses, no clashing of teeth or mouths not quite in sync. Not too much lip, or too much tongue, or too much saliva . . . It was as if their lips, their mouths, had been created solely for the other. A perfect fit.

  When Trevor opened for him and their tongues tangled, Marc realized he’d been wandering alone in the desert on the verge of dehydration until this moment, and this man was his oasis.

  What the hell?

  He broke the kiss with a gasp, his breath rapid in its wake. The power of it was too overwhelming, yet he immediately wanted to dive back in. Was that all it took? Just one kiss and he was a goner? He was a damn lawyer! Logical and analytical and very left-brained. He didn’t believe in things like love at first sight. Lust at first sight, absolutely. But hell, he couldn’t deny the connection he’d felt since the moment he made eye contact with Trevor. Couldn’t deny he currently felt something a little more than a commanding appetite for sex going on here. Lust had never left him waxing poetic about a kiss before.

  “Top or bottom?” Marc asked, refocusing on the man before him and leaning down slightly to suck a hard nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it.

  “Verse,” Trevor rasped. “But tonight, total bottom. Please.”

  Oh God. Marc shivered. “Yes.” His voice was barely audible, but going by the flare in the blue depths of those intense eyes, Trevor had heard him loud and clear.

  Trevor leaned in and reclaimed Marc’s mouth in a kiss more confident and demanding than the first, and though it had only been mere seconds, Marc had already been missing Trevor’s taste. He gave himself up to it, letting Trevor lead him at will.

  Panting filled the air, gasps for breath stolen between kisses Marc didn’t want to stop. And it seemed, neither did Trevor. All the while Trevor quickly worked to remove Marc’s shirt, but at the same time he was going excruciatingly slow. Trevor pushed the fabric off his shoulders, then ducked his head to trap a nipple between his teeth, giving a teasing tug before sucking it into his mouth as though his life depended on it. Marc groaned and closed his eyes. Yes, this was what he wanted, what he’d been missing for too long now—the need to be desired, wanted.

  He ran a hand through Trevor’s hair, soft and long enough to grip a fistful of, which he did. With his other hand, he yanked the towel from Trevor’s waist, and his fully erect, wanting cock bobbed between them. Resting his forehead on Trevor’s shoulder, Marc licked his lips, watching himself wrap his hand around the beautiful length. Hot, silken skin slid along the firm column of flesh in his grip. Trevor shook and moaned over Marc’s nipple, hands moving south and thumbs tucking into the waistband of Marc’s briefs, pushing them until both his underwear and slacks fell away and pooled on the ground at his feet.

  Trevor leaned back to look down, and Marc’s skin pebbled. “Good God, you’re gorgeous.”

  Heat once again rose in Marc’s face. How he could still be nervous at this point, with the two of them standing face-to-face stark naked, he didn’t know. They were just two men making the most of an unforeseen situation. Nothing more. Yet, somewhere deep inside was a growing need to make sure it would be good for the both of them.

  He shook his head and quickly dropped to his knees. Hopefully Trevor hadn’t noticed the flush of red that had surely spread over his cheeks. He licked his lips and then wrapped them around Trevor’s hard length. His eyes closed as he reveled in the bittersweet taste, the solid feel, and again, that oddly strong desire to give this man everything he had, to make this the best, most memorable experience of Trevor’s life, hit him. Why it mattered so much just then wasn’t something he had any capacity to analyze, but he would. Later. Maybe. But for now, his only focus, his only purpose, was Trevor’s pleasure.

  Trevor cradled Marc’s head firmly but without force or control, just assurance and encouragement, and slowly began to rock his hips. Marc took him as deep as he could, but he had a bad gag reflex, so he used his hand as an extension of his mouth.

  “Oh yeah.” Trevor’s low, rumbling voice drew Marc’s attention, and he raised his eyes. Their stares connected, locked. Whatever Trevor saw there caused his breath to catch. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” The word drew out on a growl.

  A swell of pride filled Marc’s chest at the clear effect he was having on Trevor. The strange nerves that had plagued him since first meeting Trevor vanished in that moment. He knew how to do this—was damn good at this, in fact—and he would give his all.

  Spurred on by Trevor’s rough noises and body signals, Marc began giving head in earnest, making sure to use every single trick he had in his arsenal. That Trevor was so clearly loving what Marc was doing made him want to bring the man off right away. But at the same time, he wanted to savor and prolong the pleasure. His jaw started to ache and his eyes began to water, but he was not letting go of that beautiful piece of man in his mouth.

  “St-stop.” Trevor groaned, a pained edge to his voice. “Stop. I don’t want to come until you’re inside me.”

  Jesus. Marc let go, sat back on his heels, and looked up. Trevor smiled and ran the pad of a finger over Marc’s open mouth like a caress. “Your lips are swollen.”

  Marc smiled before flicking his tongue out to swirl around the long digit, and then closed his lips over it and sucked it to the base, his cheeks hollowing.

  “Holy hell.” A tremor racked Trevor’s body. “That alone is enough to make me lose my load.” He slowly retrieved his finger, then pulled Marc to his feet, fusing their mouths together in an impassioned kiss while guiding them toward the bed.

  Trevor pulled back abruptly. “Please say you have condoms?”

  “God, I hope so.” Because the last thing he wanted to do was get dressed and leave this room for any reason. Even for that. Well, okay. Maybe he would for that, but he still didn’t want to. He wanted to spend every possible moment with Trevor until the morning came and the roads were cleared.

  He frowned. What the hell was going on with him tonight? It wasn’t like he’d never had a fling before. Maybe the fact that it’d been so long since he’d felt connected to another man, coupled with Kate’s worry about him missing out on life, was throwing him off. Pushing the
weirdness away, he focused on the task at hand. He riffled through his gym bag, and fortunately, found two foil packets in the side panel, along with some lube. He held them up. “All set.”

  Trevor sat down and shimmied himself up the bed until he was dead center. Marc couldn’t wait to slide his tongue all over that honeyed skin . . .

  The bandage on Trevor’s arm caught his attention again, but just as he was about to ask what had happened, Trevor spread his legs and ran his tongue over his lips, slow and sensual. Marc groaned. He didn’t need to know anything. Just feel.

  He climbed onto the bed, straddling Trevor, who was watching intently. Marc’s balls brushed Trevor’s abdomen, the fine hairs tickling his sac, and a rush of anticipation trembled in his stomach. He lowered himself, pressing their groins together, and moaned at the heavenly pressure. Marc didn’t really need to do anything more than just lie there, their bodies molded together like two pieces of a puzzle. Such simple human contact, but that alone would be enough to see him through the night, before the new day spit him back out into his solitary world.

  Trevor slipped a hand around the back of Marc’s neck, his fingers threading through the short hair. “Sable.”

  Marc frowned. “What?”

  “The color of your hair.” Trevor met Marc’s gaze, and that sexy grin of his sent all kinds of enticing vibrations through Marc. “Rich, almost . . . mahogany. Gold and burnt umber when the light catches it. Like sunshine.”

  Marc laughed, even as the words sent a wave of warmth through his chest. “It’s just brown hair.”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘just brown.’” Trevor raised his other hand and ran his fingers up the side of Marc’s neck, along his jaw and the line of his cheekbone, his gaze following the tactile exploration. “I want to paint you.”

  Marc swallowed against a tightening throat. “I thought you wanted to fuck me?” His voice was rough, constrained sounding, but he knew Trevor would mistake it for arousal rather than what it really was: his own compelling drive to create, to awaken that long-buried part of himself. A part he didn’t think could ever find its way to the surface again but that he still mourned in the silent hours.