Home and Away (31 page)

Rupert ran a gentle hand down his neck and smiled as he stepped back and drew Callum to the bed.

Callum was helpless to resist. He climbed onto the mattress with Rupert, meeting in the middle on their knees for another long kiss, their chests touching, cocks bumping. Callum slid his hands down Rupert’s back and over the firm, high curve of his ass. He knew its shape and strength. Knew Rupert’s body almost as well as he knew his own.

And that worked both ways. Rupert’s lips slid along his jaw and down the cord of muscle to his shoulder, sending shivers through his body. Callum hadn’t known his neck was so sensitive. Or the insides of his elbows, or, oddly, his hips. They were sore a lot these days, twenty-plus years in the goal having taken its toll. But when Rupert’s hands rubbed over them, or held on, fingers digging in, it felt as good as any massage. Better, because instead of sending the message that they were broken, something to be overcome or ignored, the pain Rupert soothed or exacerbated told Callum he was alive. That it didn’t matter how much he’d beat the shit out of himself over the years, his body still worked and stretched and felt good in Rupert’s hands.

Rupert barely had to push for Callum to fall back on the bed, pulling Rupert down with him, surprised when Rupert used that grip on Callum’s hips to roll him onto his stomach.

Rupert’s lips tickled along the tiny hairs beneath his hairline. Then the broad flat of his tongue warmed Callum’s spine down to his shoulders.

He was steeped in the pleasure of Rupert’s undivided attention, utterly accepting. Ready and content. Rupert laid down on top of him and pressed his knees between Callum’s, spreading Callum’s thighs wide. Rupert’s erection moving against his skin was a tease. Callum’s lips curved up in direct response to the feeling of Rupert’s smile pressed between his shoulders and his shaft sliding between Callum’s cheeks and along his perineum, the blood-hot head nestling against his balls.

Callum buried his face in a pillow and groaned. Hands rubbed down over his sides to his hips, Rupert’s full weight on his back.

“I love it when you’re like this,” he murmured against Callum’s ear.

“Muffled by the pillow?”

Rupert’s laugh was less an auditory thing and more a tactile one, shaking Callum with each huff.

“Smartarse,” he whispered affectionately, working his lips over Callum’s shoulders and down his spine. Callum missed the warm weight on his back, but let Rupert do as he wished without comment or request. At least verbally. He couldn’t keep his hips still. His cock rubbed against the bedding, the gentle friction not nearly enough, building more tension rather than easing it.

Twin licks over the dimples at the base of his spine tickled and he squirmed until Rupert’s tongue slid lower. Every muscle locked up tight, poised, as Rupert drew a cool, wet stripe into the valley of his ass, until the clenched muscles prevented Rupert from going any further.

“This okay?” he asked in a low voice.

Whatever Rupert did was okay. Even Callum’s addled brain could remember that.

“Yes,” he gasped, holding himself perfectly still as he waited to see what would come next.

Rupert stared down at Callum’s long back, round arse, and wide-spread thighs and felt spoiled for choice.

“You know,” he said, running his hands thoughtfully over the expanse of smooth skin at his fingertips, “your bum is just as big and round as mine. I don’t know why everyone insists on teasing me and not you.”

Callum gasped the words “smaller waist,” just as Rupert’s thumb brushed over his hole.

Rupert paused. “Pardon?”

Callum groaned, shooting a dirty look over his shoulder. Apparently, he didn’t feel now was the time for this discussion. Rupert just looked back, one eyebrow arched, fingers digging into the meat of Callum’s bum.

Callum growled in frustration. “You have a smaller waist. Leaner legs. That’s what makes your ass such a perfect bubble.”

Rupert rolled his eyes. He hated that term. The expression on Callum’s face, though, told him Callum felt differently about it.

He traced a finger down the valley of Callum’s arse, circling the tight pucker of muscle until Callum’s mouth hung open, gasping.

“I rather like yours better,” he told Callum.

“It’s yours. Do what you want with it.”

Rupert chuckled at Callum’s ready surrender. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this. To how pliable and sweet and generous Callum could be in bed. He hardly seemed the same man as the irascible, cranky lunatic who had first barged into Rupert’s office.

“I rather think I will,” he said slowly.

“You will what?” Callum groaned into the pillow he hugged against his chest.

Rupert slid down on the bed, using his hands to spread Callum’s knees until his thighs could go no further.

“Do what I want,” he murmured. He licked Callum’s perineum, his tongue hot and firm, starting at the soft skin over his balls and ending at the tightly clenched entrance to Callum’s body.

“Oh fuck,” Callum cried, writhing against the bed.

Rupert licked again. And again, his arms straining to hold Callum still as he panted and wriggled beneath him. Rupert worked at the muscles beneath his lips, prodding one moment, soothing the next, with long, wide laps of his tongue.

Callum hugged the pillow tighter, his face buried in it. It wasn’t an effective muffle, every grunt and whimper like music to Rupert’s ears. Callum’s ass lifted in the air after one particularly deep stab of Rupert’s tongue, and he finally managed to get his knees planted under him. He immediately canted his ass up to Rupert’s face, begging for more.

Rupert circled his spit-slick hole with one finger, then pushed in.

“Oh god. That’s…that’s so good. Please, Rupert.
Please
.”

Rupert thrust deeper, his knuckle catching on the rim and tugging gently when he withdrew. Callum jerked, the sensation rocking through his entire body.

Rupert had worked Callum up to being able to take three fingers with grand plans of toys and torture, but each time they’d had time alone, he hadn’t needed or wanted to bother with anything more elaborate than the two of them.

That was more than enough. Sometimes almost more than Rupert could handle, his heart full to bursting, his body thrumming. It was a lot to process. A lot to feel and love and do, all without the anchor of a future to plan or even think about.

He was foolish, rushing toward his own heartbreak, exacerbating it with every touch, escalating how much it would hurt every day they spent raising their little family and building something new and better for their team. They were carefully crafting a future they could not have. It was the most singularly stupid thing Rupert had ever done.

He slid his tongue around his finger hooked against Callum’s rim, tugging so that he could push in beside it. Callum let out a garbled moan, and Rupert smiled.

He wouldn’t change anything about the past two months. He would change the future, if he could, but he refused to delude himself into thinking that he might.

There was only this. This summer. This bed. This night and however many more he could steal before Callum went away. Then he’d face working with him from a distance, and trying to separate Callum’s presence from the home he’d helped Rupert build.

He kept working with his finger, his mouth, fascinated by the sounds he could draw from Callum. By the way he opened up beneath his touch. When he was sure Callum was ready, and Rupert couldn’t stand to wait any longer, he leaned over to grab the lube and a condom from the bedside table.

“No,” Callum panted.

“No?” Rupert asked, tucking the lube under Callum’s thigh to warm it, but still holding the condom, unsure.

Callum slowly turned his head and peeled open his eyes. “I meant don’t stop,” he said, voice hoarse, his words less certain toward the end. His eyes caught on the foil square in Rupert’s hand,

Rupert carefully pulled his finger from the hot clench of Callum’s body and laid down over him again, his lips brushing the shell of Callum’s ear.

“What do you want?”

Callum sighed as Rupert’s weight settled. “You.”

Rupert’s stomach swooped. He ran his hands down Callum’s sides and slid forward, dragging his cock over Callum, feeling the slick of his own spit along his shaft.

“You have that,” Rupert agreed. “Now, what do you want me to
do
?”

“God, you know what I want. I want you to fadoodle me,” Callum growled. “I want you to fadoodle me right through the mattress.”

And that. That shouldn’t have been sexy. At all. Not when it forced Rupert to bury his face against Callum’s neck and muffle uncontrollable snorts of laughter.

Callum’s smile was slow, obviously pleased with himself.

“You are ridiculous,” Rupert said, smiling down at Callum.

“You love me anyway,” Callum murmured, his eyes popping open the moment the words left his mouth.

“I do,” he agreed quietly, still kissing Callum’s shoulders. Down the trench of his spine.

“Rupert, I—”

Rupert grabbed a globe of Callum’s ass in each hand and spread him open, cutting off his words with a strangled whimper.

Callum persevered. “Rupert, you—I—I want to—”

Rupert thrust his tongue against Callum’s hole, cutting off Callum’s incoherent mutters and relishing the low moan he got instead. They could talk later. Or tomorrow. Or never.

Nothing Callum could say could turn Rupert away. Or keep Callum here forever.

Callum writhed beneath him, beautifully responsive as he cried Rupert’s name. Sighed and breathed and moaned it. Rupert worked his tongue in and around the tight muscles, waiting for them to loosen again, then he retrieved the lube from under Callum’s leg.

He slicked his fingers and eased one into Callum.

He kissed the smooth skin stretched over each cheek, the crease where thigh met arse, the thin skin along Callum’s inner thighs. Rupert worked his finger deeper, until Callum’s legs shook and his hip canted to meet each thrust.

He eased his finger free and Callum made a weak, broken sound of protest. Rupert teased with the tips of two fingers, testing muscles. Callum growled and pushed back, taking both easily and burying his face in the pillow to muffle his shout of pleasure.

Rupert added more lube, his other hand soothing over Callum’s hip and back. He would not be rushed, no matter how Callum gasped and growled. He kept his pace steady, unrelenting, until the third finger hardly met any resistance.

“Please, Rupert,” Callum groaned. “Please. Do it. Don’t make me wait any longer,” he implored.

Rupert felt a drop of guilt somewhere in the tsunami of desire cresting over him. He’d meant to tease Callum, to build up to this moment for the sake of anticipation, and to ensure Callum was truly able to enjoy every aspect of it. Perhaps two weeks had been too long.

Given how Rupert’s hand trembled as he rubbed Callum’s spine, it had been far too long.

“Shhh…I’ve got you,” he promised.

Callum nodded, as if he believed it completely. Rupert groped frantically for the condom.

He kept his fingers moving, stretching Callum, adding more lube, tearing into the foil packet with his teeth. Callum’s hips worked in counterpoint, his hair damp along his forehead and neck, cheeks pink beneath his thick black lashes and above his open, panting mouth.

Rupert turned his wrist, slowly, dragging another long moan out of Callum, until his fingertips brushed over the hard knot of Callum’s prostate and he sobbed.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Callum’s almost managed a laugh between huffs of breath. “Should we call a doctor?”

Rupert didn’t think he could wait another second to finally be inside Callum, but he paused in the act of slowly extricating his fingers from Callum’s ass. “What?”

“I think you’ve gone blind,” Callum explained.

And that wasn’t funny. Rupert freed his hand and curled around Callum, unintentionally forcing his cock against Callum’s open, waiting body, making them both moan.

When Rupert could see straight again, he pressed his face to Callum’s cheek. “You need to learn to take a compliment.”

Callum wriggled against him. “Thank you,” he said completely insincerely.

Rupert was inordinately grateful that Callum couldn’t see his hands shaking so hard it took three attempts to get the condom on. He was supposed to be the experienced one here, for Christ’s sake, and he was close to falling apart. He swallowed a hysterical giggle when the bottle of lubricant shot out of his slippery hand and across the bed. He had enough already—more than enough to necessitate changing the sheets later—but that was good. He needed to be sure this was as close to perfect for Callum as Rupert could make it.

He was so bloody nervous. He hadn’t wanted anything as much as this, as
Callum
, in his life. Hadn’t been as giddy or jittery since he was a teenager.

The memory of himself in that cheap hotel room just on the other side of the parking lot from the rink where he’d been competing, and the beautiful young man with him that day, settled his nerves now. That boy, another competitor, had been as overwhelmed and fumbling as Rupert, but he’d taught Rupert everything he’d needed to know, once and for all, about who he was. And who he liked.

Rupert looked down the long, strong arch of Callum’s spine and smiled.

Rupert still knew.

Sliding forward, he pressed up against Callum’s spread thighs and drew his cock down between Callum’s cheeks and over his hole. Callum lay limp beneath him, his cheek to the mattress, shivering at the touch. Still open. Ready.

Rupert sucked in a deep breath and pressed the head against those twitching muscles and eased forward.

“Oh, Jesus,” Callum whispered.

Rupert froze.

The eye Rupert could see popped open and glared at him. “Don’t stop,” he growled.

Rupert tried to smile, but it wobbled as the pressure built, flattening his sensitive head, good and yet so, so terrible, because he needed…he wanted…

The head popped in. Rupert froze again, panting, as Callum clamped down around him, unbearably hot and tight and perfect.