Home and Away (16 page)

He was prepared to tease Rupert mightily for his ballsy performance back in the arena, but the words died on his lips when he saw Rupert’s pale face.

He grabbed Rupert’s hands and felt them tremble. “You okay?”

Rupert nodded jerkily. “I’m fine. I’m so sorry. That really wasn’t like me at all.”

“Really? You’ve never been shy about putting me in my place,” Callum said wryly. “It seems like that asshole deserved it just as much.”

“God, no, you’re nothing like that man. I’m sorry, Callum. I never meant to—”

“Easy, duchess.” Callum smiled and squeezed Rupert’s hands. “Yes, he definitely deserves it more, and for far better reasons. But I deserved it, too. And that was still a brave thing you did in there.”

“And thus why it was so unlike me,” Rupert said with a grimace.

“What are you talking about?”

“Have you forgotten? This is me, Rupert, the man who cowers in the face of his own hockey team. The one who nearly knocked himself unconscious on a filing cabinet the day we met.”

“That’s bullshit,” Callum spat, furious. Rupert’s head jerked up. “You’re plenty brave, Rupert. Braver than I could have been. I agreed with everything you said, was thinking the same things. But I’d never have the guts to say it. You weren’t afraid to tell that asshole the truth, you didn’t worry what he would think. I hide from the truth every day.
All the time
, Rupert. Who’s the coward here?”

“You’re not a coward, Callum.”

“Aren’t I? You’re out. You own it. Are proud of it in all the ways you should be. It’s part of who you are and people see that and it’s…you’re so…”

“What?”

Callum forced himself to say what he’d been thinking since Rupert had railed against John Shaw.

“Beautiful. Strong.”

“Oh,” Rupert breathed, the color suddenly returning to his cheeks. “Oh, you—”

“Rupert!” Alexei yelled from the doorway, making Rupert jump. Callum released his hands, happy to have been interrupted before god knew what else came out of his mouth.

Rupert managed a reasonable facsimile of a smile for Oliver. “You ready to go?”

Oliver clung to Alexei’s neck. “I want to finish our adventure.”

“Sure, little man!” Alexei bellowed with a big smile.

“You don’t mind?” Rupert asked.

“Of course not!”

Callum watched, confused, as Rupert pulled Oliver’s car seat from the back of his car and thrust it at Mike. “Do you need help installing it?”

Mike only blinked for a second. “Nope. I got it.”

Callum considered mentioning Oliver’s freak out earlier when he’d tried to leave him with Mike and Alexei, but held his tongue. Oliver didn’t seem bothered at all now, leaving Callum to wonder if perhaps
he
should be the one getting lectures about letting small boys manipulate him.

“Great,” Rupert said, a tad too enthusiastically. “How about we meet up at six for dinner at Quigley’s? Reese will be there, too.”

“Sure!” Alexei agreed, mimicking Rupert’s enthusiasm. They were both ridiculous. “Maybe then we can learn more of your secrets. You have a lot of them.”

“I do not—”

“Ha! Yes, you do!” Alexei called over his shoulder, already walking away, Oliver’s giggle trailing behind them.

Rupert glared after him. “That man is annoying on purpose, isn’t he?”

Callum chuckled. “I think so, yes.”

Rupert harrumphed then turned for the car.

“Where are we going?” Callum asked as he jogged around to the passenger door.

“I thought we might go back to the hotel,” Rupert said extremely casually.

Callum paused. “The hotel?”

If pressed, Rupert couldn’t say how they arrived at the hotel in one piece. This was their first chance since London to be alone, truly alone, for a good long stretch of time. The freedom made Rupert giddy. It was like playing hooky, only better, and, if Rupert got his way, a far more grown-up version then any he’d played in school.

He didn’t regret Oliver coming to live with him. Every day, he discovered new reasons he was delighted to have his brother home. Seeing the world through his eyes, having that steady presence and affection in his life was amazing.

But he also now had a keen appreciation for all those times his married friends had talked about the sanctity of Date Night.

He glanced at Callum again. He looked very, very nervous. Rupert thought about telling him it was okay. That they didn’t have to do anything. That they could still go to the arena and do a couple hours of work instead of…

Instead of what? Just what the hell
were
they going to do once they got back to the hotel?

Of course, Rupert had a general idea. The semi-erection he’d been sporting since Callum had held his hands and told him he was beautiful sure as hell had ideas. But this was Callum. Who, for all intents and purposes, was a virgin.

Rupert’s confidence flagged, even if his erection didn’t.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe they should go back to work. Maybe Rupert was pulling up to the valet at their hotel and leaping out of the car like it was on fire, a hand shoved in his pocket for decency’s sake as he walked around the car to Callum’s side.

Rupert couldn’t remember ever being so eager to make what was probably a really bad decision. He couldn’t remember when it had stopped feeling like a bad decision at all.

Callum was silent, and Rupert might have worried, except Callum had been forced to shove his hands in his pockets upon exiting the car. In spite of his nerves, Callum was still interested. Very interested, if the faint outline Rupert found himself staring at for the length of their elevator ride was any indication.

By some miracle, Rupert got the door to the room open, held it as Callum brushed past him, then let it swing shut with a note of finality. Callum jumped.

Rupert considered again that he should give Callum an out, but then Callum turned to him and Rupert just
couldn’t
. He wanted this. Callum wanted this. And even if it was a really stupid idea, it wasn’t one he could shake. Not once since Montreal. And, if he were honest, for some time before that.

He stepped up to Callum, their chests almost touching. “Thank you,” he said, his lips brushing Callum’s.

“For what?” Callum whispered.

Rupert pressed their lips together again. “For saying I’m brave.”

“Oh,” Callum said, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re welcome.”

“And for saying I’m beautiful.”

Callum sighed. “You are.”

The next kiss lingered, and Callum’s arms curled around Rupert’s waist.

“Is this okay?” Rupert asked.

“Umm…yeah.” Callum kissed him. Still gentle. Nothing like the assault in Rupert’s office earlier, but no less keenly felt. “This is better than okay.”

Rupert slid his hand along Callum’s jaw and into his hair, tilting his head just a little bit.

This kiss was deeper. Rupert brushed his tongue along the seam of Callum’s lips, was immediately granted access, and licked into Callum’s mouth. Callum’s tongue met his, no longer shy, but not bold either. The hint of hesitation, the curiosity, the clench of Callum’s hands on Rupert’s hips, drew in Rupert more thoroughly than the most experienced lover ever had.

Rupert lost track of time. Place. They stood in the tiny front hallway of their hotel room and made out like a couple of teenagers for what felt like hours.
Days
. Long, drugging kisses with Callum’s arms around Rupert, Rupert’s curled around Callum’s neck. Rupert hadn’t kissed anyone so much, for so long, since he’d
been
a teenager. And for the life of him, now he couldn’t figure out why. Why hadn’t he wanted to do this?

He had a terrible suspicion that it wouldn’t have been so sweet, so hypnotic, with anyone else who’d come before. He didn’t want think about why, so he rededicated himself to kissing the breath out of Callum as Callum did the same to him.

The urgency hovered, just beneath his skin, eager but willing to simmer close to the surface while Rupert learned everything he could about Callum Morrison. What he liked. What he didn’t like as much. It wasn’t easy. Nothing broke the flattering and encompassing concentration Callum poured into kissing Rupert. Rupert was fascinated by how Callum’s technique changed by the minute. Trying things Rupert had done. Trying things Rupert hadn’t even thought of.

Rupert offered all the feedback he could to Callum without ever leaving his lips. He wasn’t typically a noisy lover, but he found he couldn’t help but moan when Callum’s tongue curled around his. Couldn’t help but shudder and hum when Callum let him suck on his tongue.

Rupert let his hand roam over Callum’s back, drifting over his ribs. Callum shifted against him, pressing into his touch, setting his own hands to coast over Rupert. Callum was not the first lover who couldn’t seem to resist Rupert’s ass, but never had a man skimmed their hands so gently over every curve. The tips of his fingers traced the line where his butt met his thighs, as if Callum were studying it. He seemed to particularly like the little whimper Rupert couldn’t hold in each time his fingers brushed in the middle, dancing over nerve endings that practically screamed for a firmer touch. A lick.
Anything
to ease the ache of his heavy erection and slow the speeding of his heart.

Rupert could see now he’d been overly confident that his experience would leave him a certain amount of control. Of distance. Instead, Callum’s curiosity, his hesitation and trust and generosity, were slowly taking Rupert apart. Callum didn’t do what Rupert expected. What he had come to expect from his previous lovers. Reese had been unfair to label them all boring, but they hadn’t been particularly wild either. Eager in bed, interested, invested even, but they knew what to do. How to do it. In theory. Rupert certainly hadn’t had cause to complain in the moment.

But Callum just
guessed
and managed to do it better, more sincerely than anyone before him. Rupert might let the damn man stand there and feel up his ass for hours if he wanted. Because Rupert wanted that. He got a vicarious thrill each time Callum discovered something new, then tried it again and grew more confident, more bold, and then did it again.

Callum’s long fingers met again, skimming down over the middle of Rupert’s butt, tracing the seam of his trousers before tucking in between his thighs. Rupert broke their kiss with a gasp, holding himself still but paying for the effort. He shut his eyes as tremors ran through his body, begging him to press back and urge Callum to take his exploration in a new direction.

It was only a matter of a second, maybe two, but Rupert knew this hesitation was different. Maybe it was the tension in the arms around him, or that Callum, too, held his breath.

Rupert opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light above them, and drew his head back just far enough to focus on Callum’s face.

Callum chewed on his lower lip, and Rupert stared at how red, how swollen, it was. He tasted his own lips, enjoying how they buzzed with beard burn and hard kisses.

A line formed between Callum’s brows. “I don’t…”

Rupert waited, slowly dragging his thumb across Callum’s cheekbone, marveling at the soft skin above where his beard began, at how warm it was. It grew warmer as a blush rose while Callum worked out what he wanted to say.

“I’m not sure…” Callum sighed, then dropped his hands from Rupert’s ass. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Could have fooled me,” Rupert said with a smile.

It was, it seemed, the wrong thing to say. Callum stepped away, leaving Rupert to stand alone on decidedly weak knees. “Rupert, I told you—”

“Shhh…” Rupert leaned in and silenced him with a kiss. Then another. “I just meant that what you were doing was good. That it felt good. I wanted you to keep doing it.”

Callum studied Rupert with wide, dark eyes, his pupils blown so that only a thin band of emerald green remained. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rupert said, ready to beg to have Callum’s hands on him again. When Callum pressed closer, Rupert held on, trying not to stumble. Callum’s hands caught his elbows.

“Are you okay?”

Now Rupert did smile. “I’m feeling a little unsteady on my feet, if you must know.”

Callum’s slow smile was unpardonably smug. “Sorry?”

Rupert laughed, not bothering to dignify that with a response. He longed to tow Callum down the hall and into the bedroom, but didn’t actually consider doing it. He’d finally gotten the worry to leave Callum’s face, didn’t think Callum was even all that aware that he’d slid his hands down to grasp Rupert’s hips, his fingers resting on the top of Rupert’s ass again.

“How about the couch?”

“What?” Callum asked, apparently distracted by staring at Rupert’s mouth.

“The couch. I’m asking you to make out with me on the couch, as this standing up business is getting difficult.”

Rupert wasn’t sure what kind of reaction this would get, but he never would have predicted Callum pulling him by the hand to the furniture in question, sitting down and dragging Rupert down over him.

“Like this?” Callum asked, suddenly nervous again as Rupert straddled him, his knees pressed into the cushions next to Callum’s hips. Callum’s ability to act decisively one moment, then hesitate and question himself the next, should have been annoying. Distracting, at the least. Certainly not so bloody endearing.

“This is good,” he assured Callum, resting his weight on Callum’s thighs, careful not to spread his legs too far. Yet.

Callum’s arms came up to circle Rupert’s waist, a hand on his back tipping him forward until their lips met again.

Callum had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but when Rupert’s lips were pressed to his, and his gorgeous butt was perched on Callum’s thighs, he no longer cared. He just wanted to keep kissing Rupert. Keep touching him. He’d only stopped earlier because he had no idea what the etiquette was here. Was there even etiquette for these things?

Like, really, he had
no idea what he was doing.
He was the ultimate rookie. Worse than a rookie, actually, since this was more like making an NHL debut when all he’d done to prepare was play shinny in the backyard. Callum’s sexual experiences had been few, and none of them anything like this. None had been in his home, or even a hotel. Hell, none had allowed for him to sit down, for fuck’s sake, let alone for soft furniture and long kisses that made his head spin from lack of oxygen, but felt too fucking good to stop. He’d never done more than groped at a potential partner’s ass, the universal sign language for “I want a piece of this”. He’d never once been able to take his time, curving his palm over firm muscles and feeling how they shifted as his partner pushed back against his touch.

It was a lot, an embarrassment of riches in the face of his limited history. His fingertips buzzed as they brushed along the soft lines of Rupert’s slacks, over his hips, pressing down on the firm, beautiful, and frankly fucking huge swell at the top of Rupert’s ass before cresting over that perfect bubble and down to stroke the backs of his thighs.

Callum wanted it all. He wanted to touch and taste and feel and try everything. But he didn’t want to rush. Partly he was afraid of humiliating himself, but mostly he couldn’t quite ignore the tiny voice in the back of his head, reminding him that this might be his one chance. That he should relish and memorize every touch, every moment, because this might be the only opportunity he had for years to come.

He shoved those thoughts away when he could, but they never left him completely. He wondered if he seemed desperate. Or if he just plain wasn’t good at this. He worried that it was weird that he couldn’t stop petting Rupert’s ass. Though Rupert didn’t seem to mind, if the way he squirmed, licking hotter and faster into Callum’s mouth, was anything to go by.

Callum was beginning to understand Rupert’s signals. The little noises and motions that indicated what he liked. What he loved. With that in mind, Callum curled his fingers around Rupert’s hips and held on tight, focusing on their mouths as they clashed together. The kiss went deeper. Hotter. It was wet and messy, and kind of filthy, and Callum loved it.

He tugged Rupert closer, working on instincts that screamed at him to finally do something about the pressure in his balls. The ache of having been hard for so damn long. Rupert’s long, lean legs spread around him, his knees digging further into the cushions as he slid his hand into Callum’s hair to pull himself closer.

Callum jerked when Rupert’s weight settled fully on his lap, tearing an embarrassing grunt from his chest. None of those things stopped him from thrusting up against that warm weight, from gripping Rupert tighter, closer.

He thought he might die when Rupert’s hips started to move, making hot, beguiling circles as he ground against him. Callum groaned at the press of Rupert’s erection.

He had no idea what to do next. What to do
now
. So he just kept kissing Rupert and holding on tight.

Rupert froze and Callum whined, deep in his throat, only stilling his own motions when Rupert’s hand landed on his chest. Rupert gasped against his lips, attempting to start a sentence at least three times before managing, “I refuse to come in my pants. We have to stop.”

Callum’s heart fell to somewhere around his feet. “We do?”

Rupert leaned back to look at Callum, and Callum bravely stared back. He had a few ideas about what could come next, things he’d done before, but he was oddly loathe to suggest any of them. To
do
any of them.

With a flush of embarrassment, he realized he wasn’t ready. God, he was like a fifteen-year-old blushing virgin. It was humiliating.

Rupert touched his cheek. “We can stop,” he said, earnestly.