Chapter 88

Or Scooter. Andy slanted a gaze at him, because Scooter wasn’t exactly wordless either most of the time.

“Can youkeep quiet?” Andy asked, half-teasing, half-curious. He slid his hands up Scooter’s sides, and around to the front to rest on Scooter’s chest.

Scooter shivered, peeled off his shirt to give Andy better access. “Maybe? I might mark you up a little, bites and…” He kissed Andy’s neck, nuzzled at Andy’s ear. “Feel so good, so intense. Need a bit of an outlet. Won’t bite, if you rather I don’t.”

Andy hummed—quietly!—and tipped his head for easier access. “I don’t mind if you don’t,” he promised.

Scooter tugged Andy’s tee, sliding it up slow and teasing, his fingers leaving trails of sensation in their wake. “Why didn’t you warn me that you were so addictive?” Scooter’s voice was so low, the words spoken against Andy’s ear, they were mere shapes in the air. He tossed the shirt aside, and then his hands landed on Andy’s shoulders, almost an embrace, but not quite. Just close enough for the heat between them to swirl and grow.

God, Scooter always said stuff like that—ridiculously overblown, melodrama-worthy things that should have been laughable but mostly just made Andy’s stomach clench with desire. “No twelve-step program can help you now,” he teased. “I’m in your blood.”

“Need my fix then,” Scooter said. There was a long moment of stillness; Scooter drawing the moment out, to savor it like wine. And then in a motion that seemed as natural and inevitable as the tide, Scooter pulled him into a close embrace. Scooter’s hands were everywhere on Andy’s skin, down his back, sliding around his shoulders, up into Andy’s hair to cradle his skull. Scooter kissed him, kissed like it was the end of the world. Urgency made him clumsy at first, his parted lips dragging along Andy’s neck, down to the hollow of Andy’s throat and back again. Finding nothing but willing Andy, Scooter claimed his mouth, took the deep kiss that Andy had been craving. Scooter searched, tasted, until the sensation blazed into something raw and unrestrained.

Andy swallowed a whimper and went to work on Scooter’s pants. It seemed vastly unfair how fast Scooter could get Andy to the point of begging, like fire under his skin just seeking something to consume. He slid downward, mouthing at Scooter’s skin, flicking with his tongue, letting his teeth drag from time to time, working Scooter’s pants down. He dropped the rest of the way to his knees—oh, nice, the carpet here was softer than the throw rug in Scooter’s bedroom—and gazed up at Scooter through his lashes. When Scooter focused on him, Andy licked up the length of Scooter’s cock like a Popsicle.

Eyes almost comically wide, glowing in the single candle, Scooter exhaled hard, then sucked in a breath, barely louder than the first. Scooter raised one hand to touch the top of Andy’s head, the other went to his mouth where Scooter bit down on the side of his thumb, containing the soft noises he was making. His fingers tightened in Andy’s hair, tugging lightly, encouraging, sending prickles across Andy’s scalp.

Andy smiled, then dove back in, licking and lipping, seeking out every spot that made Scooter twitch or breathe harder. He sucked Scooter into his mouth and pushed down, three or four quick thrusts that pushed the head of Scooter’s cock against the back of his mouth, testing his gag reflex. Then he pulled off and went back to teasing at the slit with his tongue.

Scooter’s legs were quivering in moments. He reached out blindly, found the edge of Kat’s desk to lean against, fingers gripping the wood until his knuckles were white. His breath hitched with every inhale, mouth working wordlessly as he stared down at Andy. The hand on Andy’s head shifted until it was stroking Andy’s jaw, light and reverent. “Jeeeeeeeeeesus,” Scooter hissed, barely above a whisper, almost lost in the sound of rain slashing against the window.

Mm, God, Scooter was delicious. Though that was a reminder—Andy pulled off enough to ask, “You bring stuff, or are we sticking to just mouths and hands?”

Scooter’s laugh was probably a little louder than it should have been. “In my overnight. Kat’s been pushing both of us. I consider messing up her sheets a bit of payback.”

Andy laughed with him—what the hell, laughing wasn’t TMI—and swallowed Scooter back down without warning, just to make him clench his hands in Andy’s hair.

“Oh, God,” Scooter gasped. “Stop, stop, I…can’t do this without a wall. Or the bed. Or something.” His knees were wobbling and shaky as he pulled Andy up, leaning most of his weight on Andy’s shoulders. “You are too good at that,” he whispered in Andy’s ear. “God.”

Andy kissed Scooter, deep and hungry, letting Scooter taste himself in Andy’s mouth, then nudged Scooter back until he all but fell onto the bed. “I think I’m just good enough,” Andy said, climbing up to straddle Scooter’s thighs and grinning down at him. “Damn, but you’re gorgeous. Kat may be onto something with all the candles.”

Scooter pulled him down to kiss, tongue caressing Andy’s lower lip, then sliding inside. His teeth grazed, nipping, sending sparks across sensitive nerves. And all the while he ground up, pressing himself against Andy with relentless, rhythmic strokes. Andy rode him, drove him, the need swirling up to an impossible pitch. “My God,” Scooter whispered, “I want you.” He ran his thumb over Andy’s swollen lip, then kissed his lover again, open-mouthed, deep, wet, as if trying to draw Andy’s soul right out of his body.