Home and Away (20 page)

Callum froze and his face blanched white. “Rupert,” he breathed, his voice rough and low, “I would never hurt you. You can’t think that I—”

Rupert could withstand the horror in Callum’s voice, but the sheen building in his eyes was, apparently, kryptonite to Rupert’s temper. He grabbed Callum’s arm. “I know that, Callum. That’s not why I stood up.”

“Then
why
?”

Rupert twisted his lips wryly. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

“Oh,” Callum said, and he still looked miserable. “I guess I didn’t think. I just wanted to be close to you when I said…” he trailed off, uncertain.

“What?”

“Sorry. I was going to say I’m sorry. But I don’t know, it doesn’t seem adequate.”

Rupert sighed. “It’s a good place to start.”

Callum used Rupert’s grip on his arm to tow him closer. “I never meant to embarrass you. I was happy to see you so excited. I
wanted
to hug you. But I just…reacted. It’s instinct, I guess. A terrible instinct, but after all these years I can’t shut it off. I don’t even know if I should. But not because I’m ashamed of you,” he added quickly. “Or even of me. I just…”

“Don’t want anyone to know.”

“I don’t even know if that’s true anymore,” Callum admitted quietly.

Rupert was stunned. “Pardon?”

“I almost told Jack. He’s barely spoken to me for the last hour and I wanted to tell him the truth. About me.”

“
You did?
” Rupert asked, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, well, don’t be too impressed. I chickened out.”

Rupert thought there was a victory in there anyway. He smiled tentatively. “You can trust Jack. He would never tell anyone.”

“I know. I should have. But I’ve never done it. You’re the only person I’ve ever told.” Callum grimaced, a sour twist of his lips that reminded Rupert of the man he’d first met. “I’m so used to the lies, I can spout them in an instant. But actually speaking the truth scares the shit out of me. What does that say about me?”

Rupert brushed the backs of his fingers down Callum’s cheek. “You don’t have to tell anyone, Callum.”

“I don’t? I mean, I guess I’m surprised you think so.”

“I’m sorry if I somehow gave you the impression that I think you should out yourself to anyone.”

“But…”

“Callum, coming out is a deeply personal and sometimes terrifying thing, particularly at first. For everyone. No one can or should tell you that you must do it. If and when you’re ready, though, I’ll support you. As would your family and Michaela, I bet.”

Callum almost smiled. Rupert stepped a little closer.

“If there’s anything I’ve been hard on you about, that I don’t understand, it is that you’ve forced yourself to live alone. That you’ve been celibate for god knows how long—”

“I haven’t so much as touched anybody in four years.”

Rupert’s jaw practically fell to the floor. “You’ve been totally celibate for the past
four
years
?”

“Well, if you don’t count the last two weeks,” Callum said with a quick smile. “And nothing I did before, ever, came close to what it’s like just to kiss you.”

Rupert was speechless, his heart aching for Callum, and yet so full. He rewarded Callum for his sweet words the only way he knew how. He kissed him again.

A lot.

He didn’t mean to get carried away. They were in his unlocked office with a guest chair under the doorknob as their only protection from being walked in on by anyone from Oliver to the cleaning crew. None of that mattered, though, when Callum opened up beneath his lips, meeting Rupert’s tongue with his own, his hands curling into Rupert’s shirt to pull him closer.

Rupert was starving for time alone with Callum. Truly alone. And the chances of that happening before Callum left for Las Vegas were slim to none. Callum was determined to get the project ahead of schedule before he left, and Rupert was booked solid with the draft, trade negotiations, and team logistics. This was their one and only chance to be alone for
days.

With that in mind, Rupert forced Callum backwards around the desk while they kissed. He put his hands on Callum’s hips to guide him, desperate to get closer, to get Callum pressed up against something hard so that Rupert could, in turn, press up against Callum.

At last, Callum’s shoulders thumped against the door, the chair tipped under the knob almost taking out their legs.

Now, at least, no one could walk in on them easily.

There was still a huge risk, sending adrenaline pumping through Rupert’s veins, making him both needier and more reckless. He yanked at Callum’s shirt, his belt and button and zipper, shifting back only so that Callum could do the same to him. He sealed their lips together, because he wanted to kiss Callum, because he loved kissing him, and because he really needed to muffle the hums and groans and other wonderful little noises coming up from Callum’s chest.

All right, and his own, too.

God, they were both way too noisy for clandestine office nookie. Which was too bad, really, since there was no way in hell Rupert was going to stop. He managed to shimmy Callum’s jeans and boxers down over his hips, far enough that Rupert could grab fistfuls of fabric on both sides and yank it all down as he dropped to his knees.

He spared his bad knee a passing thought, knowing that this was definitely not on his orthopedist’s list of approved activities. Callum’s cock stood firm, the tension Rupert could see rippling through Callum’s belly making his thick shaft sway temptingly in front of Rupert’s face. The plump, dark pink head looked as soft as it had felt, the ridge wide and smooth and absolutely begging to be traced by the tip of Rupert’s tongue. His mouth watered, but when he braced one hand on Callum’s thigh, the other intent on wrapping around that thick shaft, Callum’s hand stopped him.

“No.”

Rupert looked up past Callum’s tight belly, expecting to find Callum blushing, flustered at the least. Instead, Callum had gone white as a sheet.

Rupert sat back on his heels. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, I want you to…” Callum began, his frown deepening.

“But?” Rupert prompted, not willing to guess or do anything until he understood better.

“It’s too much like what I’ve done before,” Callum confessed in a rush. “With those other men.”

Rupert rubbed his thumb over Callum’s bare thigh. “Was that wrong?” he asked carefully.

“What? No. I mean, yes. I mean, those men—they were
servicing
me, Rupert. They didn’t know or care who I was, and they probably wouldn’t have if I’d told them. But I didn’t. I didn’t hesitate to use them like this.”

Rupert rose to his feet slowly, his head spinning. He’d gone from zero to sixty then thrown it in reverse, all in the last three minutes. In deference to Callum’s sometimes-delicate sensibilities, Rupert gently tugged some of his clothes back into place.

“Callum, they were all adults, were they not?”

“Yes, of course,” Callum said, appalled.

“And you didn’t pay them or coerce them? To the best of your knowledge, they were reasonably sober and not high?”

“I thought so, yes. I mean, I definitely avoided people who didn’t seem to be in control or whatever,” Callum said earnestly, but also like an apology for having been there at all. Rupert wanted to hug him. And then maybe shake him until he came to his senses.

The man was so fucking confusing.

“Callum, those men knew what they were doing. And more so, I’d guess that they enjoyed it as much as you did.”

“No way.”

Callum succinct and dead-sure answer gave Rupert pause. “Why not?”

The color returned to Callum’s cheeks with a vengeance. He looked away from Rupert. “I didn’t touch them. I didn’t
do
anything. They just knelt and, um,”—he swallowed hard, his face going redder—“did it. And I let them.”

“So? Wasn’t that what they were offering? What they wanted, too?”

“Yes. I mean, I guess it’s what they wanted? But I don’t get it. They didn’t get anything out of it.”

Rupert couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s not funny,” Callum muttered.

“Callum, some people like it.”

“Like what?”

“Giving head,” Rupert said bluntly, no longer surprised by Callum’s blush. Honestly, it made Rupert feel helplessly fond.

“They do?”

“Yes. More so, some people like to…what did you call it? Service someone? Others even like the feeling of being used.”

Callum looked desperate to believe that. “How do I know if that was true for the men I was with?”

“You don’t,” Rupert said with a shrug. “But they consented, and they presumably had their reasons. If they didn’t tell you what those were, then that’s their business. And their right.”

“But what if that wasn’t it,” Callum said hoarsely, pulling Rupert closer until he was clinging to him. “What if I—”

The thought was apparently too painful for Callum to finish. Rupert pressed close, their foreheads touching, their disheveled clothes tangling together.

“It would never be that way for me,” Rupert said softly. “I didn’t offer for any reason other than I want to taste you. And I want you to feel good.”

A shudder worked through Callum, his hands tightening until Rupert feared for the future of his shirt.

“And I don’t have to kneel. You don’t have to stand, even. You could sit in a chair. On the couch. Or I could spread you out across the bed and lie between your legs.” Rupert’s legs felt rubbery just thinking about it, so lying down would probably be a great idea.

“And it would feel good? For you, too?” Callum asked, his voice deep.

“Yes,” Rupert promised, his body coming back to life at the way Callum was staring at him. He leaned forward the mere inches it took to press their lips together again. Callum kissed him back, but only for a second.

“Do you touch yourself? While you do it?” Callum asked brazenly. Rupert could feel the heat coming off his cheeks.

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

Callum frowned, clearly dissatisfied with that answer. “But it wouldn’t be considered, like
rude
, right?”

“To jack off while you’re giving a blow job?” Rupert asked with a chuckle, trying to figure out where the hell Callum was going with this. “Uh, no. I don’t think that would be considered rude.”

“Okay,” Callum said with a nod, as if something had been decided. His smile was uncertain, but it made it all the way to his lovely eyes.

Rupert smiled back. “What?”

Rupert’s feet almost left the floor when Callum grabbed his arms and spun him around, so that their positions were reversed. Rupert’s mouth fell open to protest, but the words got stuck in his throat when Callum dropped to his knees.

Callum went to work stripping away Rupert’s clothes from the waist down. Rupert yanked his shirt up so he could see Callum’s face clearly.

“Callum, you don’t have to do this.”

Callum smiled. “Now you sound like me.”

Rupert huffed out a laugh, but couldn’t say anything else as his pants slid to mid-thigh and Callum stared at Rupert’s cock like it was something wild and mysterious. It should have been funny, but it made Rupert’s chest ache instead. He tentatively stroked his fingers through Callum’s hair. Callum leaned into his touch as he ran his warm, calloused palms up Rupert’s thighs.

“You don’t have to do this,” Rupert said again.

“Stop saying that,” Callum said without taking his eyes off Rupert’s cock.

Rupert swallowed and pressed harder against the door, his legs barely holding him up.

Callum looked up. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Rupert cupped his jaw. “You don’t—”

Callum’s hands gripped his hips punishingly. “I dare you to say it again.” He was so fucking close, his breath brushed across Rupert’s shaft. Rupert wanted to die. He wanted to come all over Callum’s face.

He remained resolutely mute, and watched Callum stare at his tackle from not two inches away, for possibly the longest minutes of his life. It was fairly disconcerting.

Rupert hated to risk irritating the man breathing directly onto his penis, but he had to hazard a question. “Is something the matter?”

“What?” Callum asked, glancing up at him. At
his eyes
, to be specific. “No, I was just…”

“Looking?”

“No. Well, yes. And, uh, trying to figure out where to start.”

“Oh,” Rupert said stupidly. “Perhaps if you let me—”

Rupert’s offer to demonstrate was interrupted by an undignified gurgle when Callum’s hand encircled his shaft, lifting until it the head was poised a hair’s breadth from Callum’s lips.

Callum’s pink tongue slipped out and brushed across the excruciatingly sensitive nerve endings trembling for his attention. Seemingly emboldened by that success, Callum did it again. And again. Rupert couldn’t breathe, every muscle in his body tightening to the point he was forced to hunch over. He planted one hand on Callum’s broad shoulder, the other on Callum’s head, very carefully not grabbing the great fistful of hair his twitching fingers begged for.

Callum’s tongue continued its agonizing explorations, sometimes curling around the head, sometimes testing at the ridge, or poking into the slit, before returning to the long, lathing licks. The broad flat of Callum’s tongue was soft, warm, and slightly rough.

Rupert had never, in his life, been so acutely aware of the mechanics of a blow job—given or received. He understood, with the four functioning brain cells remaining to him, that Callum was just trying different things. The look on his face was almost clinical, if not exactly detached. It should not have been that hot.

So why did it feel like Callum was taking him apart, breaking down his every wall, one brick at a time? Soon, he would be little more than rubble at Callum’s feet.

Callum’s hand slid a few inches along his shaft, and Rupert groaned, trying to keep his hips still. What would have been a thrust became more of a squirm, which would have been embarrassing, had it not been so intriguing to Callum. He moved his hand again. Farther this time. Then again, holding tighter.

“God, please. Keep doing that.”

Callum’s focus remained on his hand. “You didn’t like my tongue?”