Refraction Page 8

  “Audrey Flack?” He pulled out his phone and looked her up. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to pretend he did. That would just be insulting. “Oh, wow.” He’d look up Tucker’s mom too, eventually.

  Daddy built big shit; Mom had a New York agent; Tucker was encouraged to explore art as a kid…. Calvin was getting a picture in his mind and knew for sure that Tucker had been raised way out of his league. He didn’t particularly care, but a fact was a fact.

  “So… what do Mommy and Daddy think about your demons?”

  “We don’t talk about them. They don’t look at my work. It pays the bills, and I’m not suited to anything else.” Tucker didn’t sound hurt or angry, more resigned, he guessed.

  Okay, so that was awful. To have this huge thing that they didn’t talk about.

  Calvin heard the tension in Tucker’s words, and he saw it settle into the man’s shoulders. But more than that, he knew it hurt, even if Tucker had made peace with it. He knew it deeply. Once his hormones had kicked in, the only thing Calvin and his parents had been able to talk about without arguing was the weather. The last time they’d talked had been after that hurricane six years ago. Less than a year later, all the arguing had ended too.

  It was in Tucker’s words even if the emotion wasn’t. It pays the bills and I’m not suited to anything else. Those words shut down any hope Tucker had of enjoying his work. Calvin had said the same thing to himself a million times.

  “Hey.” He put down his water and leaned back in the couch next to Tucker. “You don’t need to be suited to anything else. This suits you. It’s controversial, sure, but art is supposed to be. Not everyone will get it.”

  “True that. It is what it is. Someday I’ll mellow into nice landscapes and still lifes.” Tucker didn’t even manage his straight face for a second, the soft laughter shaking them both.

  “Mmm. And someday I’ll be celibate.” He tried the straight-man routine, but it was hopeless. He giggled right along. “I love your work. I loved listening to you talk about it.” He looked at Tucker, still grinning. “Maybe it’s the hat. You could say anything to me in that hat and I’d believe you.”

  “Could be the hat.” Tucker leaned over, rubbed their noses together. “And celibacy? What a thought. You are sex made flesh.”

  “It’s my superpower. Maybe I should tattoo a big S on my chest.” He could smell Tucker’s beer faintly and a light scent of cologne.

  “That might hit your pocketbook hard, honey, but I wouldn’t mind one way or the other.” Tucker took his lips, the kiss not wild but a ballpark away from lazy.

  There were worse things than having sexy as a superpower, especially with this Texan around. Calvin rolled toward the kiss, inviting Tucker to have whatever he wanted.

  Provided he got what he wanted too. He slid his hands down the front of Tucker’s shirt. The tiny nipples were hard as rocks, and he knew that wasn’t from cold. It was nice in here.

  He liked the feeling of being wanted—not just wanted for now, but actually wanted—and the little high he got knowing he was turning Tucker on. He slid his thumbs over both of the little buds through the crisp fabric, loving how Tucker leaned into his touch, then started in on the buttons, keeping his fingers purposeful but not rushed.

  Tucker’s hand was on his knee, sliding up under his kilt with a slow but oh-so-deliberate intention. He grinned against Tucker’s lips and daintily stopped his hand.

  “Guess.”

  “Long johns so you didn’t freeze your sweet pecker off.”

  Calvin was delighted. “Got it in one!” Tucker was so wonderful. He let the cowboy’s fingers finish the slow trek up his thigh until they encountered the delicate lace.

  “Oh… I want to see, honey? Please? Even though I bet it breaks me in the best way.”

  Oh, perfect. God, that was so perfect. The way Tucker said please set every one of his nerves on fire. He had to make Tucker say it again. He stood up and loosened the buckles that held his kilt closed. “I hope it does,” he purred, sliding the leather over his hips.

  Tucker’s moan soothed him, enflamed him. The noise was raw and honest, the sound of Tucker’s knees hitting the floor even better.

  “You like?” He took a step backward, teasing, not letting Tucker touch. “Yes?”

  He stepped out of the kilt, taking his time, letting Tucker get a long look at his cock, barely obscured by the flowery lace front, and the way the little shorts sat low and nestled in just below his hip bones.

  “You do, I can tell. And what do you think of the back?”

  He turned around to put the kilt with his jacket, giving the cowboy an even better view—his ass, covered by little more than a hint of the thin black fabric.

  “Jesus, honey, I could worship at your altar for a hundred years and not be a quarter done with it.”

  Wasn’t that delicious? The man on his knees, shirt half undone, blue eyes wide and shining brighter than the moon. “I don’t need a hundred years, tiger, just an hour or two. You can start by taking your shirt off.”

  The white shirt went flying, crumpling to the floor like it offended, giving him that expanse of muscle, the dark curls on deeply tanned skin like a dream to feast on.

  His fingers twitched, itching to reach out and touch, but he didn’t. Not yet. Tucker’s rush to obey was making him bold, making him want to savor this. He started to move, walking in a very slow circle. “You’re lovely, Tucker. Do you have any idea what you look like, kneeling there? Take off your belt and give it to me.”

  “My belt, honey?” Tucker gave him a curious look, but unhooked it and handed the belt over, the heavy silver-and-turquoise buckle warmed by Tucker’s body.

  Calvin grinned. He didn’t have anything sinister planned, but he liked that Tucker sounded a little uneasy. He loved the image of binding Tucker’s arms back with it, the turquoise standing out against tan skin, but he didn’t think they were ready for that. “All right, tiger. You want to touch? All you have to do is ask. Nicely.”

  Tucker chuckled softly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “I totally want to touch. Nuzzle too. Lick a little. Let me? I’ll make sure you aren’t left wanting.”

  He grinned, missing that little bit of power Tucker just stole back from him. But he had another play. He set Tucker’s belt aside and knelt down behind him, straddling Tucker’s calves, his chest close enough to share heat but not touching.

  Then Calvin combed gentle fingers through Tucker’s hair, lifted it off his neck and kissed his nape. “I should have done what I wanted to with your belt,” he whispered. “I will, one day.”

  “You’re cheating now. I asked nice.” Tucker’s words were husky, mostly lost in his moan. It was the shiver, though, that made Calvin ache, the way his words made Tucker tremble.

  Fuck, he wanted to touch so bad. But he had a goal now, and making himself wait was almost as hot as making Tucker squirm. “You didn’t say the magic word.”

  “Is that please or abracadabra, honey?” Tucker reached back, fingers reaching for him. “You make me dizzy, I swear to God.”

  He laughed softly, because from someone else that would have been sarcasm, but from Tucker? It was just a question. He stood again, moving away so Tucker couldn’t make contact. “It’s please, baby. I want to hear you say please. You know, break you in the very best way?”

  “Please, honey. I want to feel you, touch you so you can feel me. Shit, I want to learn you, all over again.” So giving. The need dripped from Tucker’s drawl like honey, and it wasn’t self-conscious or embarrassed. Just honest and raw.

  That was enough. That was everything he needed. He dropped to his knees in front of Tucker. “I’m yours, Tucker. Anything you want.”

  Calvin leaned in and kissed him.

  Tucker drew him close, crying out into the kiss like Calvin had offered him a gift. One hand went to his belly, the other wrapping around his hip, fingertips barely brushing the lace.

  His stomach jumped
at the touch, like Tucker’s fingers were carrying an electrical current. His own hands flailed for a second, touching shoulder and chest and one thick bicep, and finally settling on Tucker’s face, stroking that wonderful stubble that after another full day was moving more into beard territory.

  “Tucker,” he whispered into his cowboy’s mouth. It was all he could manage just then. The only other thing left to say was “want you.”

  “Got me.” Tucker managed to stand, hauling him up on the way without nutting either one of them or falling over, which was a fucking miracle, and then stumbled to the bed. “Softer, huh? Floor’s hard.”

  “Oh. Didn’t notice.” Calvin sat on the end of the bed and worked open the top button of Tucker’s jeans. “Fucking Wranglers. Stiff as hell.”

  “Uh-huh. These are my good ones.” Tucker bent to remove one boot, but ended up with his face next to Calvin’s cock. Both hands landed on Calvin’s thighs, Tucker’s rough cheek dragging over his lace-covered shaft.

  Fuck, Tucker’s whiskers poked right through the fabric, and his happy little half hard-on went nuclear. He groaned and tangled his fingers in Tucker’s dark waves. “Jesus, tiger, that’s….” Something. Was he trying to say something?

  His eyes crossed, and he flopped back onto the mattress.

  “Uh-huh.” Tucker followed him down, alternating long laps of that hot tongue with the prickly caress of his chin. There was nothing shy about Tucker like this, not a bit of the man’s need hidden away.

  All that abandon drove Calvin fucking wild. Almost as wild as that fucking incredible beard. It was so rare and… rare and wonderful. He grinned. That sounded familiar.

  Calvin felt the rough fabric of Tucker’s jeans on his thighs and pushed at them ineffectually. “Come on, Tucker, I want to feel you.”

  “Uh-huh. God, you make me ache so.” Tucker slid his hands under Calvin’s ass, dragging him up toward that hungry mouth.

  Or… that. Whatever, he was easy. He remembered Tucker’s mouth from… fuck, was that only yesterday? It couldn’t have been.

  He drew his heels up and planted them on the edge of the bed, using the leverage to lift his hips higher.

  Tucker dragged the lace down, enveloping his cock in the same motion, so he went from one sensation against his skin to the other, the air not given the chance to touch him.

  He gasped more than once, several times until his lungs were full and he had no choice but to exhale, the breath carried on a sound that seemed completely alien to him. There were only two things happening in the world right now—Tucker’s mouth on him and his desperate need for more. More contact. More heat. More sound. More Tucker.

  Tucker sucked him like a starving man, tongue moving against his skin like an eel, quick and wet, but hot and focused on his pleasure.

  “Fuck, Tucker!” Whatever Tucker wanted was quickly turning into exactly what he wanted too. He had one hand bunched in the bedding and the other in Tucker’s hair, and he let himself get lost for a while in all of that sensation. The cowboy wasn’t teasing, wasn’t letting him think for one second.

  Tucker was barely letting him breathe.

  It didn’t seem that long before he was chasing down his orgasm, completely abandoning subtlety and even his own fucking pride. Tucker wasn’t asking him for anything but real. “So good, baby. So close already. God!” How do you do that to me?

  He felt the hum vibrating all around him, from the tight lips at the base of his cock to the very tip at the back of Tucker’s throat.

  Jesus, this tiger had an arsenal of oral tricks up his sleeve. Or down his throat. Somewhere. Calvin loved the humming, all that lovely vibration making his balls ache. He enjoyed every second that it lasted, but it wasn’t very long.

  His toes curled, his thighs tensed, and his back arched as he came, all remaining thought and sensation rushing south. A freight train rolled through his skull and left a dead silence behind, and there just wasn’t enough air to be had. Anywhere.

  Tucker kissed the tip of his cock, his hip, his belly—each caress adding to his aftershocks, to his pleasure.

  His hips fell back to the bed, jarring him, and Calvin blinked his eyes open, not sure at all how long they’d been closed. When his vision cleared, he was able to get some perspective back; Tucker’s hotel room, right. Breathing was a good thing too, still pretty shallow but at least it seemed possible.

  Calvin was shackled by that slip of lace, and he wiggled his thighs, giggling when it finally fell down to his ankles.

  He should say something brilliant. Something worthy of all of Tucker’s effort. A million things went through his mind, but when he tried to speak, the only thing that came out was “Holy fuck.”

  This guy could never go back to Texas.

  TUCKER SLID up along Calvin’s body and rested close so he could see the tiny hairs on Calvin’s jawline, the smudged eye makeup. There were the barest signs of powder on Calvin’s cheek, caught in his eye lines.

  Tucker reached up and brushed a few bits away, worried about the makeup getting in Calvin’s eyes.

  His cock was hard enough a cat couldn’t scratch it, and he opened his jeans to give it some room, let it nudge against Calvin’s blistering hot hip.

  Calvin gave him a lovely smile—soft and sweet—and ran curious fingers down his chest and over his belly. “I should wash my face. I probably look like a demented raccoon.”

  “You look like you’ve been busy doing something naughty. I like it.”

  “You were doing something naughty. I was just… enjoying the hell out of it.” Calvin’s sigh was full of satisfaction. “Really, really enjoying it.” Those curious fingers made their way back up to his shoulders. Calvin pushed him over and kissed him, tangling their tongues for a moment. “Still yours; tell me what you want.”

  “Touch me, honey. Please. And I need more of those kisses.” He was ready, sure, but he was happy to spend a minute or twenty just touching. That was a luxury all in itself.

  Calvin moaned softly. “I love it when you say please.” He shivered a little as Calvin moved away, the air in the room much cooler without all that body heat. “Mmm. These are some fancy boots, Texas.” Calvin gave one a tug and slid it off his foot.

  “Luccheses. I love them.” He sat up, easing his jeans and skivvies down over his hips.

  “So, how many pairs of boots do you own?” Calvin slipped the other one off and set it on the floor. “I got this.” Calvin took over, grabbing his jeans and all by the waistband and dragged them down slowly, laying kisses on every few inches of newly bared skin.

  “Uh…. Five? I got two pair of nice ones, two w-work ones, and lace-ups for when I’m feeling stompy.” Go him for forming thoughts.

  “Are your work ones all covered in paint?” Calvin managed to catch his socks in clever fingers, and the whole bundle fell to the floor. Calvin never stopped touching him, following that with warm kisses to the tops of each foot and little nibbles around one of his ankles.

  “Yeah. Although I work with wood sometimes. Build things.” He arched, his ass digging into the mattress with those maddening, wonderful touches.

  Calvin continued up the inside of his calf and licked the back of one knee. “Yeah? What do you build?”

  Somehow this didn’t seem like the time for twenty questions.

  “Walls. Jesus, that feels good.”

  “Good.” Calvin did it again, and then started to crawl back along his body, hands running over his thighs and hips. A wet tongue traced the length of his cock and just kept on moving, dipping into his navel and continuing up to his nipples. “I want to make you feel good.”

  “You do.” Shit, he felt like he was fixin’ to vibrate apart with the soft touches, the barely there kisses. Every place Calvin licked burned for a second, then became a line of cold.

  Calvin tangled their legs and angled into him, giving him something to rub on. “Everything about you is so interesting to me, Tucker. Your hips, your work, your boots, your cock, the way you talk, th
e things you say, everything you do… how you seem to appreciate me….” Calvin kissed him again, tiny, light tastes between his words.

  “You’re magic.” He didn’t have to understand it; he could just believe it. The little kisses and caresses were beginning to build inside him, the ease becoming an ache that made him shift, push.

  Calvin answered with a gentle, rhythmic roll of his hips and a heavy kiss that seemed intent on keeping Tucker from breathing.

  Tucker found himself opening and closing his hands rhythmically, like somehow there was music again and they were dancing.

  Calvin broke the kiss off and grinned at him, then slid down his body and bathed everything from the tip of his prick and the full measure of his length, before venturing around his sac and pausing when he got to the sensitive area behind his balls. There, Calvin paused, pinching the skin for a fleeting moment between fierce teeth and following up quickly with a soothing tongue.

  “Oh, Jesus….” Tucker was staring, wide-eyed, but he wasn’t seeing a fucking thing but lights for a second. “You… honey.”

  “Yeah. Me, honey.”

  He was still focused on that sting when his cock disappeared into the damp heat of Calvin’s mouth.

  “Fuck.” Tucker forced himself to focus, to watch, because he had to see this, had to see it and remember how it looked, remember Calvin’s eyes as they blazed up through the smudged makeup.

  They flashed at him as Calvin circled the head once, and then again, the look part tease and part absolute hunger. Calvin’s fingers wrapped around the base, and then those eyes slid closed as his needy cock disappeared down Calvin’s throat.

  His fingers curled into fists, tearing into the sheets as he fought the scream that wanted out. Tucker could feel the way Calvin swallowed around him, the pressure making lights flash behind his eyes.

  Calvin’s fingers worked him as well, moving up his shaft and back down again in tandem with Calvin’s mouth, keeping the friction constant and the rhythm unrelenting.