Just before he lost his patience with still being somewhat dressed, James pulled down Cal’s trousers and his boxers, thankfully both in one go, because Cal felt like he’d have snapped at him if he’d drawn it out any longer.
He stepped out of his clothes and felt those lips return to his neck. He grabbed James’s head and pushed his face harder against his own flesh, and they brushed together, erections hot and hard between them. Cal closed his eyes, relishing in those feelings and the blurring of everything else. Nothing outside existed. It was only them and what they could do to each other.
He barely managed to get his wits about him long enough to move towards the bed, then broke the contact briefly to lie down. He motioned for James to follow, and the man seemed almost spooked to be on top of him. But when Cal bid him to continue, James dove right in again, placing sucking kisses that nearly curled Cal’s toes.
“Condom.” He pushed against James’s shoulder and James sat back, looking somewhat unsteady, but he pulled the strip closer, tore one off and opened the package.
“Look at me.”
James met Cal’s gaze. What Cal saw there was arousal, obedience, a single-minded focus and a softness in James that was terribly attractive, even endearing. James rolled the condom down, not breaking eye contact, and then reached just as blindly for the lube. Cal watched him, idly running his hand over his own cock, impatient to feel more, but fascinated by James being so tentative.
“Get ready.” Cal pulled the pillow closer.
James lubed up, still perfectly obedient, and waited, lips tight.
Cal opened his legs, pushed his knees up, then pulled James on top of him. Before he’d considered it, he kissed him, and again he found it difficult to stop.
James steadied himself, then pushed against him.
Cal nearly lost his breath, and he struggled to concentrate on anything else. He didn’t bottom often, but he was in the mood—normally he preferred fucking to being fucked, but so many barriers were down between them. This wasn’t at all about not giving James what he wanted. It wasn’t denial; it was almost a gift, a show of trust, and Cal had wanted to know what it felt like, too. Though in his fantasies, James hadn’t been following orders. He’d have to edit those fantasies, because James breaching him now felt incredible. And his face? The expression on James’s face when he eased his way in against the resistance of Cal’s body. Eyes unfocused and half-closed. Lips apart. Eyebrows knitted together. God, he looked amazing.
“Neck . . .” Cal ordered breathlessly.
James leaned farther forwards. Eyes locked on Cal’s, he rolled his hips, and that sensation almost punched Cal’s air out of his lungs. He grabbed James’s head and pushed it against his neck, maybe to hide how much it was affecting him, maybe because he just couldn’t get enough of it, and he arched again when James thrust deeper, and then more, hilting completely inside. Cal was damn near panting.
“Oh my God, Cal,” James murmured against Cal’s neck. He withdrew a little and thrust back in harder, taking Cal’s breath away. “I don’t . . . I don’t think I’ll last. You feel—”
“You will.” Cal’s voice came out as more of a plea than a command. He dug his fingers into James’s scalp, arching slightly and tilting his head back so James had more skin to kiss and explore. More firmly, he said, “You won’t come, James.”
James shuddered, but he kept thrusting, maintaining a rhythm that drove Cal out of his damned mind. Cal gripped James’s hair, rocked his hips, pulling James deeper and encouraging him to fuck him faster, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware he was supposed to maintain control—of this, of himself, of James—but James felt so good. So fucking good. Everything—his fingers in Cal’s hair, his hips brushing the insides of Cal’s thighs, his cock moving deep inside him, those soft lips on his neck—conspired to destroy what little focus he had left.
He screwed his eyes shut. He tightened his grasp on James’s hair, and when he raked his nails across James’s shoulder, James threw his head back and released a cry that sent Cal right over the edge. His back arched, and his vision went white as he came and James kept on thrusting and forcing himself deep inside Cal until he, too, shuddered.
He collapsed on top of Cal. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”
“Shhh.” Cal kissed his forehead. “Neither could I.”
Fuck. I lost control. What the hell?
He closed his eyes and smoothed James’s hair. “I’m sorry. I—”
“No.” James dropped a light kiss on Cal’s collarbone. “Don’t apologise.”
“I tried to stay in . . . in control.”
“’S okay.” James raised his head and kissed Cal softly. “I’m not complaining.”
But I’m not giving you what you really need.
“We’ll get the hang of this,” Cal murmured, more to himself.
James made a quiet affirmative sound, and lifted himself up, gasping as he withdrew. “I’ll be right back.” He started to stand, but hesitated, lifting his eyebrows.
Cal nodded.