The train rattled along as they headed to Parramatta, the suburb where Clay and his daughter lived. Ethan attempted to keep his shit together and not get too excited that he’d be seeing Clay’s home. That he’d be sleeping in Clay’s home!
Yeah, but I’m not sleeping with Clay, so get a grip.
“We can pick up some groceries and stop by the bottlo after we drop off our bags.”
Ethan frowned. “Stop by the what? Sorry.” He’d asked Clay to sit across from him on the train so he could see his mouth clearly and hopefully get the sound straight to both ears without any interruptions in the flow.
“The bottlo.” He laughed. “Sorry. Probably sounds like nonsense to Americans. The liquor store. We’ll get a carton of stubbies and put our feet up.”
Ethan laughed too. “Whatever you just said, it sounds great.”
He had no idea why the sudden, brittle tension in Clay had eased, but he sure wasn’t complaining. It was still a little tentative between them, not the completely easy rapport they’d had that night on Fraser Island, but instead of avoiding looking at Ethan altogether, Clay seemed to be sneaking glances at him now. Ethan didn’t question it. Even though his crush was hopeless, he was thrilled to have his new friend back.
“What kind of food are you keen on?”
“I’m easy. Whatever you want.”
“I can do some steaks on the barbie. Jacket potatoes. Some veggies too. Sam’s always on about me eating more of the damn things.”
He laughed. “That sounds amazing. Are you sure—”
“Yes.” Clay raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure it’s not a hassle having you stay the weekend.”
Ethan smiled gratefully. “Okay. I’ll look for a place right away. I should start now, actually.” He pulled out his phone.
Clay’s low laughter reached him in the quiet of the train. There were only a few other people in their car. Ethan looked up as Clay said, “It’ll be fine, no worries. Is this an American thing, being wound so bloody tight?”
“Maybe? Or just a me thing. I can get worked up sometimes.” He shifted in his seat, glancing at the industrial area zipping by, suddenly embarrassed. “As you know from the other day.”
Was that why Clay had been so standoffish? Because Ethan had freaked out about his missing batteries and been so…needy? Clay hadn’t seemed to mind at the time.
He seemed unbothered now. “Well, there’s no need. We’ll work it all out. I’ll bore you with some cricket, and you can have a nice nap.”
Ethan laughed, warmth blooming in his chest—that wonderful feeling of safety that he couldn’t quite explain. “Are you sure you’re not missing too much of it?” They’d left the pub before the match was under way, only having the one drink since Ethan had been so antsy and upset.
“Nah, it’s an ODI. It’ll go at least six hours. Probably more. It’s barely started.”
“Holy shit. That’s a long time.”
Clay chuckled. “A test match can go five days, so not by cricket standards. Oh, and ODI means ‘one day international.’ There are some differences to test matches, but I won’t bore you with them now.”
“You’ll wait until later?” Ethan teased.
“Too right.”
They lapsed into silence again, and Ethan tried to think of something to say. “When do you have to drive back up to Cairns?”
“About a week and a half. I’ve got four full days off now, then I’ll do some day trips to the Blue Mountains and whatnot. I’ve been doing Sydney to Cairns and back every month for almost two years now. Paid my dues, so I’ve been speaking to the company about staying closer to home. Next run, I’ll have a new fellow shadowing me. I’ll show him the ropes, and then it’s all his. I tell you what, it’ll be lovely to be home more with Sam and Gilly. Sam’s finishing uni soon, and she’ll be looking for a job as a teacher. Won’t want to be living with her old man forever. She and Jase are getting fairly serious, I reckon.”
“Did she take Gilly with her on her trip?”
Clay smiled, warmth in his eyes. “Yeah. Looking forward to seeing them both Monday. Had a bit of a fright earlier this week with Gilly. He was bitten by a paralysis tick. But Sam got him to the vet quick and he’s fine now.”
“A paralysis tick? What’s that? I mean, aside from the obvious.” Ethan shuddered at the thought. “Does it affect humans?”
“Not the way it does animals. Can be absolutely deadly for dogs and cats. Unless you’re very young or allergic, it’s more a nuisance for humans, as far as I know. Didn’t have to worry about the buggers until we moved to Sydney. Only found along the East Coast. They inject a venom or whatever, and if it gets to the lungs and heart, that’s it. But it was still early, and Gilly’s doing well.” He pulled out his phone. “Sam sent this earlier.”
He passed over the phone, and Ethan smiled at the picture of Sam and Gilly. Sam’s blond hair blew around her face, and Gilly’s tongue was out happily, the ocean blue behind them. “Great shot.” He passed the phone back.
“Yeah.” Clay gazed down at the picture, practically beaming. It made Ethan’s heart swell.
“Where does Gilly’s name come from?”
Clay shifted in his seat, looking a little…embarrassed? “Well…”
Ethan laughed. “It’s something to do with cricket, right?”
“Guilty as charged.” Clay snorted. “You’re going to think I’m a nutter.”
“My Uncle Chuck is obsessed with the Buffalo Bills. Like, has a Bills flag on his front lawn, rewatches games regularly, and named his first daughter Kelly, after Jim Kelly. Nothing will shock me.”
“Same surname I have—Kelly. He was a good player, was he? Which sport is that?”
“Oh, football. American football, I mean. Yeah, he was the quarterback for a long time, I think. He’s like a god to Uncle Chuck.” He smiled. “So come on, ’fess up. Who’s Gilly?”
“Adam Gilchrist. He’s a legend. His batting was out of this world. And he was always a solid bloke, not like Shane Warne. I mean, Warne’s probably the greatest spinner ever, but he couldn’t keep it in his trousers. Always sex scandals, and taking a banned substance and the like. Never had to worry about that nonsense with Gilly. He stood up for what was right.” Clay grimaced, shaking his head. “And I don’t even want to get into those three who tampered with the ball during a match last year. It was a disgrace to Australia. The captain was in on it! Should have banned them all for longer than they did, I tell you.”
Clay’s righteous indignation was freaking adorable. Not to mention sexy as fuck. Ethan kept his expression serious even though he wanted to smile. “Wow. That sucks that they cheated. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well.” Clay crossed his arms, his nostrils flaring. He was quiet for a few moments as he looked out the window. “Broke my heart when I heard the news. Still beggars belief. You should lose fair and square and win the same way. The blokes who wear the baggy green have always been heroes. Should be. To do wrong like that…” He rubbed his face, some other words lost, but Ethan didn’t ask him to repeat himself.
The urge to smile at Clay’s indignation had vanished as Ethan realized this was something Clay was truly upset about. “I’m so sorry that happened,” he said quietly. Considering Clay had a cricket tattoo, clearly it was something he loved. It was part of his identity. “Cheating really sucks.”
Visions of Michael and Todd barged into his mind, and he held his breath, cycling through the mess of emotions the memory brought before firmly refocusing on Clay, who exhaled loudly, shaking his head as he said, “Sorry, mate. Still get the shits when I think about it.”
Now Ethan frowned as he tried to figure out if he’d heard correctly. “Did you say you…get the shits?”
“Yeah.” Clay gazed at him with no hint of humor. Then he laughed, his eyes crinkling. “I mean I get aggro. Makes me angry. Not that I have to run to the loo.”
“Oh! I get it.” Ethan laughed as well, and they smiled at each other as the train arrived at Parramatta.
“Here we are,” Clay said, leading the way out of the train with his small suitcase, Ethan pulling his two. “You all right walking? It’s only a few blocks.”
“Totally. Been sitting a lot, so a walk’ll be nice.”
They headed away from the train station, both putting on their sunglasses. Clay’s aviators were still incredibly sexy, Ethan noted for the record as they walked. They passed by a few three-story apartment buildings and other small houses, turning onto a quiet street with dry, green-brown lawns. Clay turned onto the short walkway of a small one-story bungalow. There was red tile on the roof, white siding, gray shutters, and a separate garage farther back at the end of the driveway. On either side of the stone steps up to the door were neatly kept bushes.
At the door, Clay said something as he fit the key into the lock, and Ethan had to ask him to repeat it. Clay turned around on the top step. “Sorry. Said it’s not much, but it does the job. Especially since I’m gone almost two weeks every month.”
“It looks great!”
“Well, it’s a rental, but it’s nice enough.” He led the way into the shallow foyer past the faded doormat. There was a closet on the right, and on the left was the living room with a brown leather couch, a green arm chair and ottoman, and a wooden coffee table. The walls were beige and decorated with some framed abstract art Ethan was pretty sure he recognized from IKEA. A striped area rug had a distinctly Swedish mass-produced vibe as well.
Michael would be horrified. Then another thought: Good. Fuck him.
“At least Sam tidied up before leaving. There’s a little dining room back by the kitchen, but we rarely eat in there. Usually park ourselves in front of the telly.”
“Cool. It looks really comfortable,” Ethan said, shutting the door behind him. It was warm in the house, and Clay switched on the ceiling fan over the couch and opened a window.
“Like I said, it’s not much.”
Ethan hesitated, not sure if he’d heard correctly. “I didn’t mean that as a backhanded compliment. It seriously looks so comfy. I’m used to form over function. Michael—” He broke off, grimacing. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He stood his suitcases inside the door. “Time for your cricket. If you tell me where the store is, I can go get the beer and whatever groceries you need.”
“No, no, mate. I’ll take my ute. Pickup truck, I mean. It’s in the garage. I’ll just peek at the score. You can make yourself at home. Put your feet up.” He motioned to the armchair.
“I’d actually like to come to the store. It’s weird, but I like grocery shopping. In Maclean I spent twenty minutes wandering around that tiny store. I love looking at the different stuff.”
Clay smiled. “Suit yourself.”
“But you’re sure you wouldn’t rather go to the pub to watch the game?”
“Nah. I’ll go from time to time, but haven’t really found a local here. Not like in the Curry. Sam’s always saying I should make the effort to make more mates, but I dunno. It’s strange at this age. Most of my life I knew the same people. Here, everyone’s a stranger but her and the people from work. Shiv and the other guides.”
“Right. If you’re sure…”
“Absolutely. Besides, you’ll hear better here, won’t you? How will I bore the shit out of you if you can’t hear me yammering on?”
Ethan grinned, warmth in his chest that Clay was concerned about him being able to hear. “Sounds like a plan.”
With his belly full of steak and the cricket finally over, Ethan cleared their dinner plates and took them into the kitchen, despite Clay’s protests. Cricket seriously went on forever and was still confusing, but Ethan had really enjoyed himself. Clay hadn’t seemed to mind at all about putting on the captions, even though for live sports they were a little delayed and kind of annoying. Ethan still liked to hear the commentary.
There was no dishwasher, so he filled the sink with soapy water. Clay followed him, sipping from his bottle of beer in its foam insulator that had a cartoon of a drunk insect and the words CRISSED AS A PICKET.
Ethan said over his shoulder, “Yes, I’m doing the dishes. No arguments.”
Clay replied something Ethan missed as he turned back to the dishes, but he didn’t seem to be arguing. A breeze came in the open window over the sink, the ceiling fans throughout the house picking it up. The extreme heat had broken, thankfully. Clay had said he’d put the air conditioning on before bed, and Ethan’s dick had tingled with the thought of Clay in bed.
Don’t. Be. Creepy.
He’d thought Clay had gone back into the living room, but when Ethan pulled out the stopper and wiped his hands on a dish towel, everything drying on the rack next to the sink, he turned to find Clay still standing there, leaning a hip against the counter that came out in an L-shape to separate the kitchen from the dining room. Clay watched him intently, and a shiver rippled over Ethan’s skin.
“When did you first kiss another bloke?”
The words hung in the air, and Ethan was sure all the oxygen whooshed from his lungs. Had Clay really said… Was Ethan hearing things? “I… Sorry, what did you say?” He had to have misheard.
Now Clay’s already-flushed face went darker red, his knuckles white where he gripped his beer. He looked down and opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut and raised his head, meeting Ethan’s gaze. “I asked when you first kissed another bloke.” He took a swallow of beer, his throat working. Then he shrugged, a jerk of his shoulder. “Just curious.”
Wow. That was what Clay had said. And now Ethan had made it even more crazy awkward by making him say it again. His heart thumped. A minute ago, he’d been contentedly washing dishes, everything peaceful and even domestic. Now there was something new in the air that sent sparks rushing over his skin.
He tried to be normal and act like Clay had asked what time it was. He’s only curious. It’s nothing. “Oh! Sorry. Um, I was in high school. I was a junior, so I was sixteen. His name was Jaden. We were both in the GSA. We dated for a bit, but nothing serious.”
Clay nodded rapidly. “Ah. Right.” He took another sip of beer, his throat working. “GSA?”
“Sorry. Gay-Straight Alliance. It’s a club where LGBTQ kids are supported and know they have a safe space and that everyone there is an ally.”
Clay’s eyebrows went up. “They have that in school? That’s good.”
“Yeah, I guess it can be controversial with homophobes, but most people at my school were cool. And I was out to my parents, so. Anyway, yeah. I was sixteen.”
“And you already knew you were gay?”
“Oh yeah. I knew from the time I was eight or nine.”
“So young.” Clay drank again, apparently draining the bottle because he put it on the counter, knocking it over in the process. He laughed nervously and righted it.
Why is he so nervous?
Ethan shrugged. “I guess? My mom was really open about stuff. She said she thought maybe I was when I was little. Just a mom gut instinct or something.” A memory of her telling him that one day he’d marry the boy of his dreams seized him, and his throat tightened. He forced a breath and exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to think about any of that right then, not his mom dying or his non-wedding. None of it. No, he was focusing on Clay, and how nervous Clay suddenly seemed. Ethan had to be reading this wrong.
Clay’s hands were at his sides, his fingers twitching. “Reckon I never considered the possibility.” He laughed thinly. “Don’t know why I’m talking nonsense. I’m too old to change my stripes now anyway.”
Whoa. Whoooooa.
Ethan’s heart thumped against his ribcage. What was happening? Was it in his head, or was there something…happening? Was Clay… What was Clay saying? Mouth suddenly dry, Ethan took a step toward him. Then another. Clay’s gaze skittered around, and he was breathing hard, practically vibrating with…what? Tension? Excitement? Nerves?
Desire?
All of the above? Ethan was now within arm’s length. He had no fucking idea what to say, so he tried to joke. “Well, if you want to kiss me to see what it’s like, feel free.”
Clay didn’t laugh. He didn’t punch Ethan either, or shove him away, or tell him it wasn’t funny. He didn’t do any of those things. No, with lips parted, his face and neck bright red beyond his beard, he looked Ethan square in the eye and jerked forward.
They were only inches apart now, their bare big toes grazing on the tile floor. Ethan swore he could feel an electric current through just that slight touch, and he had to be dreaming, because it sure as shit seemed like Clay wanted to kiss him.
Clay looked at Ethan’s mouth, his brow furrowing as if he didn’t know what to do. He was shaking like he was terrified—and excited—and Ethan took a long breath, confidence surging through him with the urge to take care of Clay and make everything okay.
Slowly, Ethan touched Clay’s bare forearms, keeping his touch light as he ran his palms up to Clay’s shoulders, the skin hot. His thumbs brushed the cotton of Clay’s tank top. Clay breathed hard, his chest rising and falling, puffs of hot air on Ethan’s mouth. They were just about the same height, and Ethan looked into Clay’s eyes, making sure he knew what was coming as Ethan leaned in and brushed their dry lips together.
It was barely a kiss, but it was everything.
They both shuddered, and Clay’s hands clutched Ethan’s waist. Ethan pressed his lips over Clay’s now, covering them softly. Their eyes were open even though they couldn’t really see each other that close. Ethan inched back, searching Clay’s stunned expression.
Ethan whispered, “Do you like that?”
Clay nodded jerkily, a spasm of what looked like grief creasing his face. But then he nodded again, exhaling in a rush as he closed his eyes and kissed Ethan harder.
It was clumsy, but fuck, it really was everything.
Their mouths were still closed, and Ethan didn’t push. They kissed like that—like kids, really—for a minute, just pressing mouths together and sucking in little breaths. Cautiously, Ethan opened his mouth a bit and licked at the seam of Clay’s lips.
On a desperate groan, Clay opened his mouth, grasping Ethan closer against his body, welcoming Ethan’s probing tongue. And holy shit, Clay was hard. Ethan’s dick had stiffened as they kissed, and now it surged against Clay’s through their shorts.
Ethan slid his hands up to cup Clay’s head, tilting his face so he could deepen the kiss. He pressed him back against the counter, pushing his thigh between Clay’s legs and rutting against him. They gasped and moaned, the wet sounds of their kissing reaching Ethan’s ears.
I’m kissing Clay! This is actually happening!
He wasn’t sure how any of it was possible, but Ethan ordered his brain to shut the fuck up and go with it. Their tongues pushed together, mouths fused. Clay’s facial hair was rough against Ethan’s face and probably giving him beard burn and it was glorious.
He wanted to climb Clay like a tree, and his dick was already going to explode. He’d probably break the spell if he came in his shorts, so he pulled back with a gasp, spit stringing between their lips.
He asked again, “Do you like that?” Clay clearly did, but he wanted to hear him say it.
Muttering something, Clay nodded. Ethan gripped his face. This time he wasn’t apologetic. “Say that again. Clearly so I can hear you.”
A shiver ran through Clay, and he croaked, “I like it.”
The question entered Ethan’s mind and came right out his mouth. He knew the answer, confidence filling him. “Do you want me to suck your cock?” Said cock was pushing on his hip, and Clay nodded desperately.
After kissing him again deeply and sucking on Clay’s tongue, Ethan sank to his knees, which were bare on the hard tile beneath his cargo shorts. He quickly unzipped Clay’s shorts and yanked them down, along with his underwear, and the fact that Clay wore black briefs sent a fresh rush of lust through Ethan.
He nuzzled the ginger pubic hair around the base of Clay’s dick, the wiry hair scratching his face. Then Ethan leaned back and teased the slit on the end of Clay’s cut cock with his tongue. Wrapping his palm around the base and twisting gently, he focused on the head, kissing and licking it as Clay got even harder. When Ethan finally took the head fully into his mouth, Clay groaned.
Sucking deeper, Ethan looked up, eager to see Clay watching him. But Clay’s eyes were squeezed shut and he was reaching back with both hands and gripping the edge of the counter. He seemed to be holding his breath, and the rush of pleasure Ethan had from tasting him ebbed.
Does he still want this? Does he really want me or is he just not one to turn down a blow job? He kissed me back, but…
The voices in his head were too loud to ignore, and Ethan was probably going to ruin it all, but he had to ask. Sitting back on his heels, taking some of the pressure off his knees, he let Clay’s dick slip out of his mouth. It was wet with his spit and flushed bright red, and fuck, Ethan wanted to suck it like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to coax Clay over the edge and swallow his cum.
But only if Clay really wanted it too and wasn’t just taking what he could get because Ethan had offered.
He couldn’t bear to break contact all together and held onto Clay’s muscular, freckled thighs. God, those freckles. I want to lick them all. But first he had to focus. He looked up, and after another beat, Clay opened his eyes and met his gaze, exhaling sharply.
Ethan asked, “Do you want me to stop?”
“Huh?” Clay blinked down at him.
“Do you really want this? If I’m pressuring you…”
Clay stared at him incredulously. “Are you taking the piss?”
“No, I just… You had your eyes closed and you weren’t touching me at all.”
“I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Never done this with a bloke. Not sure…”
“If you want to?”
He barked out a laugh. “Mate, does it look like I don’t want to?” He motioned to his straining cock, thick and flushed red, and muttered something else. When Ethan squinted and turned his ear a bit towards Clay, Clay said more clearly, “I don’t know what it’s like between men.”
“Pretty much the same as with a woman, I guess. I mean, generally.”
“Yeah, well, Barb and I weren’t too adventurous.” Clay’s blush crept down his neck to his chest.
Wow, if a blow job was adventurous… Ethan gave him a smile. “It’s okay.” Clay’s thighs trembled just a bit, and Ethan stroked them slowly. Time to take charge. He grasped Clay’s cock again with one hand and kissed the head. Still looking up, he said, “I want to suck you and taste you until you come in my mouth.”
Clay groaned, his cock twitching. He muttered something that might have been “Bloody hell.”
Confidence building, Ethan added, “And I want you to touch me. Watch me. Be here with me.”
Clay nodded and tentatively reached for Ethan’s head with his right hand, resting it there. He stroked gently with his fingertips, as if Ethan might break, but it was a start.
“That’s good. Just watch my hearing aids, okay?” Ethan slowly licked down one side of Clay’s shaft and back up the other before taking him fully again. He only sucked for a moment before pulling off, the sound of Clay’s whimper reaching him and filling him with pride. “Do you like that? Do you like it when I suck your cock?”
Clay nodded, murmuring something too softly for Ethan to hear. Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so bold during sex, but it felt great. Clay wanted him. Clay needed him. He was clearly afraid, and shit, maybe he’d been repressing this desire his whole life if it really was his first time with a guy.
Ethan was going to make this the best blow job in the history of the goddamn world.
With one hand on the base of the shaft and the other holding Clay’s trembling thigh, Ethan sucked him deeply now, going back up fully on his knees so he could get closer. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucked eagerly, his own cock throbbing in his shorts and pressing against the fly.
Clay’s pubes tickled Ethan’s nose, and he tried to relax his throat, taking in almost all of him. He had to pull back so he didn’t choke, gurgling as spit leaked out of his stretched lips. Clay’s palm still rested on his head, following his movements. Ethan stroked with his hand in concert with the up and down of his mouth. He’d been concentrating, and now he looked back up at Clay.
A jolt of lust tightened his balls as their eyes met. He didn’t care about the hard tile beneath his knees, or the growing ache in his jaw as he stretched his mouth to its limit. All that mattered was Clay watching him with such wonder and warmth, as if Ethan as the most amazing thing in the world.
Clay stroked Ethan’s head, pushing his fingers into his hair and sending a shiver of desire down Ethan’s spine. He moaned, his mouth full, and Clay’s hips jerked, panting with lips parted. He caressed Ethan’s hair and scalp, still gentle, but bolder now. He was so hard in Ethan’s mouth, musky and hot.
Needing to taste him fully, Ethan sucked more forcefully, sliding his left hand down to cup Clay’s balls. Hair scratched his palms as he kneaded them, loving how heavy and meaty they were. Clay cried out, his hips thrusting as he came.
His fingers tightened in Ethan’s hair, and he moaned loudly, emptying every drop down Ethan’s throat. Ethan swallowed as much as he could, breathing desperately through his nose. When he sat back on his heels again, semen dripped out one corner of his mouth.
Chest heaving, Clay stared down at him, his dick twitching. He relaxed his fingers in Ethan’s hair, but didn’t take his hand away. He said something, and Ethan asked, “What?”
“I said ‘Christ almighty’!” Then he laughed incredulously, and Ethan laughed too, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and releasing Clay’s spent balls with the other. Ethan grunted as he pushed to his feet, his knees feeling it, and Clay grabbed his arms, pulling him up the rest of the way and holding on tightly. He stared at Ethan in wonder and leaned in to kiss him.
Ethan pressed his hand to Clay’s chest. “You’ll be able to taste it.” He didn’t want it to freak him out since this was Clay’s first time with a guy, but maybe mentioning it would freak him out more? Maybe he should have just said nothing. Maybe he was making it weird when it didn’t need to be. Maybe—
He lost his train of thought as Clay took his face in his hands, his thumb brushing over Ethan’s swollen lips, his gaze dropping from Ethan’s eyes to his mouth, then back up again.
Ethan murmured, “But maybe you’ll like tasting your cum in my mouth.”
A laugh burst out of Clay. “Strewth, the things you say!”
Ethan grinned. He’d never been much of a dirty talker with Michael, or really a talker at all in bed. But something about Clay’s inexperience emboldened him. It made his blood sing and his cock throb. Leaning in, Clay still holding his face, he licked across Clay’s bottom lip, smiling at the groan that escaped.
Clay opened for him, and Ethan kissed him deeply, meeting his tongue. The musky aftertaste of semen was definitely still there, and Ethan passed it over wetly, stroking and exploring as Clay moaned, their bodies pressed tightly. Ethan needed to come, and he humped against Clay, not caring if he came in his shorts, the friction building, pleasure strung through his body.
He needed to gasp in a breath, pulling back from the kiss. Clay’s hot exhalations brushed over his mouth. Clay looked down and said something. Then he looked back up, and Ethan squinted to indicate he hadn’t heard.
“You need to get off.”
Laughing, Ethan eased back enough to unzip his shorts and shove them down enough to pull out his dick. He grunted as he gave himself a hard tug. “Fuck, I really do.”
Then Clay’s hand was on his. “Can I?”
Ethan nodded, easing back a few inches. Clay sucked in a breath as he wrapped his callused hand around Ethan and started moving it experimentally. Holding on to Clay’s shoulder, Ethan whispered, “That feels so good. I love your hands. So rough and—” He could only groan as Clay jerked him harder. “Uh-huh,” Ethan murmured. “Like that. Fuck, it’s not going to take long.”
And it didn’t. Burying his face in Clay’s neck, Ethan let himself go, the sweet pressure building until he shuddered and came, crying out against Clay’s warm, freckled skin. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” Ethan muttered, shaking as he released over Clay’s hand. Ethan leaned against him fully, Clay still holding his softening dick. They both caught their breath for a few moments.
Then the baritone of Clay’s voice reached Ethan’s ears and rumbled through his chest.
“What happens now?”
