The ETA From You to Me (23 page)

“Holy crap,” Grant groaned, pumping Clayton in time with the movement of their bodies. Clayton rolled his head back until his temple was pressed against Grant ear. Grant turned, kissing the high curve of Clayton’s cheekbone with a wet press of lips. “You’ve got, like, the Vulcan death grip on my dick.”

“Shut up before you're banned from sex talk ever again.”

Grant didn’t shut up, though, because he had no idea how to. Instead, he started to move his hand faster, feeling Clayton’s cock fill up and harden under his touch. He ducked his head down, kissing Clayton’s collarbone and then giving biting at it once. “Can’t, don’t want to. Dude, I mean. I don’t even know what I’m saying but you feel so fucking good. I want to just fuck your brains out and make you scream.”

“Harder.” Clayton grit out, though it was more like an angry growl of a demand than a request. He pulled out, set his hands on Clayton’s waist, and snapped his hips forward and groaning at the sensation of being engulfed in that tight, wet warmth.

Clayton grunted, reaching behind himself to grab Grant's wrist and pull him forward until Grant's chest was pressed into his back once more. For the second time in a week, Grant found his entire torso covered in lube, but he didn’t particularly mind because he was too busy thrusting inside the endless vice of heat that surrounded his cock.

Grant curled his arm around Clayton’s shoulders, so that he was three inches away from bringing his arm up and choking Clayton. It made bracing himself easier, so Grant could push his legs up and thrust harder and faster with less to get in his way. Clayton was responding more and more enthusiastically, encouraging certain angles by digging his nails into the back of Grant's hand when he particularly enjoyed something. Grant bit down on Clayton’s earlobe at one point, panting heavily into the shell of it. Clayton stifled a quiet groan, and Grant felt the entire shudder that went down his spine as a result, until Clayton was clenching around him.

“Fuck--fuck, Grant,” Clayton choked, dropping down onto his elbows and lifting his ass up in the process. It was like Grant was suddenly sliding right home, slipping in and out of him with perfect ease, where Grant knew his cock was hitting Clayton’s prostate because Clayton was hiding his face in his arm, muffling groans, and reaching down to jerk himself off with an increasingly frantic fervor.

“Gonna--” Grant huffed, trying to tell Clayton that he was getting close and completely forgetting what he was going to say because his muscles just shut down on him and a fire lit up through his nerves. He fell forward, pressing into Clayton’s back and desperately fucking into him, trying to chase that cliff edge that had him teetering over the precipice of orgasm.

He reached around, squeezing the base of Clayton’s cock while Clayton kept fisting himself, but he really couldn’t be of much help because his climax was hitting him like a two ton truck. Grant groaned, the air punched out of him and squeezing the moan off into a loud whine. He twitched and jerked his hips through his orgasm, spilling inside of Clayton in forceful, wrenching pulses that felt like they came straight from his very core. He didn’t stop, though, he had at least another thirty seconds before he started to go soft. That was enough to keep weakly thrusting, trying to help Clayton get off.

The best part wasn’t when Clayton tensed up, or when he hiccupped on a moan. It was when Grant felt the pulse of his cock spurting thick cum all over the bed sheets. He could feel the tight clamp around his cock; the vibrations of Clayton’s loud moan heavy against Grant’s chest. He stroked loose and fast, milking Clayton through his orgasm, kissing his shoulders and helping bring him down from the same high that he, himself, was experiencing.

“Christ,” Clayton finally gasped, shakily lowering himself to the bed as Grant pulled out with a wet noise, “we’re gonna need to do that again sometime soon.”

With that, Grant proceeded to drag Clayton in for a much needed post-coitus makeout session.

He kissed Clayton lazily, nuzzling their mouths together with a contented sound. Clayton brought his hand up, stroking his fingers down Grant's jaw in a move so tender that it made Grant's heart ache painfully. He didn’t ever want this to end.

He wanted to have this five, ten, twenty years down the road. Grant wanted to wake up to sleepy kisses stolen before the children woke up, wanted Clayton’s half-smiles and affectionate touches to be with him forever. He just wanted so much that it scared him and excited him to a point where he could only bottle it up and hope that things worked out the way he wanted.

They kissed as the adrenaline and endorphins wore off; kissed until Grant was floating in a haze of lips and skin and numbness. He must have fallen asleep between one press of lips and the next, though, because when Grant opened his eyes again, Clayton’s head was pillowed on his shoulder, body curled around Grant's side.

Blinking up at the ceiling, Grant turned his head to stare at the clock. They still had some time before they needed to get up for the day; Clayton was on call later and Grant knew he’d have an excuse to be out of class. Knowing that, Grant closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

He woke up a second time to the feeling of stubble rasping over his throat, of Clayton inhaling deeply at the hair that curled just under Grant’s ear and leaving wet, sleepy kisses anywhere that his mouth touched. Grant grunted, and Clayton’s arms around him went tight.

“I thought you’d died,” he murmured with a low and tired rasp. Just thinking about the fear and worry that Clayton and his father had gone through made Grant’s stomach clench with guilt. He brought his arm up, brushing his fingers over Clayton’s temple and then getting his hand captured and his palm kissed, slow and reverently. “I was going out of my mind; I couldn’t stop worrying about you, even after I saw you.”

“I think I go out of my mind a little every time I see you,” Grant said quietly, because this was too intimate. He wasn’t allowed to have this. This was the stuff of true love and romance movies. This was the kind of thing Grant had spent years hoping for and dreaming of and always telling himself he could never experience it.

Clayton snorted, glaring a sleepy eye at him and then setting his chin on Grant's collarbone. He slipped one hand along Grant’s belly, tracing the path from his navel down the vee of his hips and then back up. Grant squirmed, feeling hot under the intensity of Clayton’s gaze--the adoration and desire so bare that it was like Clayton was saying so many things without words. Grant brought a hand up, pressing it over Clayton’s jaw where his goatee was starting to grow back in, and then pulled him in for a kiss.

Clayton sighed softly, his fingers turning into a full palm as he rubbed his hand up Grant’s side, muttering into his mouth, “can we just stay in bed for the day?”

That brought a smile to Grant‘s lips, pulling away enough to say, “you’re so cute--I think you’re giving me cavities.”

Hand resting along Grant‘s ribs, Clayton gave him the tiniest of smirks,“Good thing we have those painkillers to help you deal with it.”

Grant laughed, taken by surprise with Clayton’s comment. It was so stupid, it shouldn’t have been funny but it was. It was because it was Clayton; and Clayton was the only person who could make Grant laugh at cheesy comments or make his heart beat faster at the sight of him.

Maybe Grant really
was
allowed to have this. They didn’t always get along; they fought and bickered and there were times that Clayton looked ready to rip Grant’s head off--but that’s what made it great. There was nothing perfect about them and it made everything so much better because that‘s what love was about, right? Taking the bad with the good and never letting it get to you. It might not have worked for anyone else, but for Grant, it was exactly what he wanted.

Grant must have been lost in his thoughts for too long, because Clayon shifted on top of him, pressing their bodies in close and forcing a soft groan out of Grant. It was a little uncomfortable, but it was better than sliced bread because Grant felt wholly loved when Clayton kissed him, arms boxed on either side of Grant's head, heart calm and strong where it beat against Grant's chest.