Waiting for Clark (8 page)

“Stop that.” He shut the drawer firmly.

“I want to see your toy collection.” I faked a pout. “I know you have one. I’ve always been too broke to afford the good stuff, but I figure you’ve got to own some impressive… collectibles.”

As predicted, that got a good laugh from him. “It’s a drawer of sex toys, not rare action figures, and if you’re nice I
might
show you some things.
Later
.”

Later. I liked the sound of that because it meant Bryce was thinking beyond tonight, even if he didn’t consciously realize it yet. I had no intention of letting him play this off as a momentary insanity thing, but that was a conversation for later as well.

“Action figure sex toys might be wicked cool though. I could think of a few uses for a light saber…” I gave him a wink as I bounded onto the bed. After so many years of making do with a single, Bryce’s giant king felt like an island paradise, and I barely restrained my urge to bounce and roll. “Now get over here.”

He laughed. “You’re different than… Never mind.”

“What? You expected me to be boring in bed?” The muscles in my neck jumped. Didn’t he know me better than
that?

“Nooo.” He stretched out next to me, less tense than he’d been in the bathroom. “Well, maybe a bit. You’ve always been so… buttoned up. But it’s more the… forcefulness I didn’t expect.”

“You’re not complaining.” I didn’t make it a question. I could see from his straining dick and the deep gold of his eyes that he liked it when I took over, even if the quirk of his mouth said he wasn’t too happy about how much he liked it.

I pushed on his shoulders until he was flat on his back, then lowered my mouth to his. The needy way he met my mouth made me growl low in my throat. So much barely contained hunger. He could easily seize control, devour me, but instead he made little impatient noises while I licked my way into his mouth. Slowly. Just to torture both of us, and maybe also to prove that we’d go at my pace and he’d like every second of it.

Pulling back to breathe, I let my hands wander over his fuzzy chest, trail over his mesmerizing tattoos. I’d known him with far less fuzz and acres of golden skin— a teenager’s body belying his deep voice and strong facial features. But this Bryce had grown into himself. The tattoos totally fit who he was, and I wanted to spend hours tracing them with my tongue. All man. All mine.

With anyone else, this was the point when I’d ask how they liked things, but with Bryce I simply watched. If I paid attention, he’d show me what he liked, even if he couldn’t put it in words. Sure enough, after a few moments of me stroking his chest, Bryce grabbed his towel, spread it next to him and wordlessly flipped over on to it.

“You planning to catalog the exact colors of my tats all night?” His tone was all brash, but his feet twitched restlessly.

“Nope.” I remembered what he’d responded to in the shower and nipped at his shoulders, biting and licking my way down his spine.

“Better be writing a check you plan to cash.” His voice was a low rumble. His glutes twitched as I moved between his legs. Yup. One only had to be observant with Bryce. And patient.

I licked
all
the way down, one smooth stroke from his first lumbar vertebra past his sacrum, down his crack, skating over his rim. He groaned, a noise I’d only ever heard him make when doing dead lifts in the gym, and his whole body shook.

He drew up his knees, giving me more access. The more I teased with my tongue and mouth, the more broken noises he made, deliciously heady little grunts and muffled curses.

“Ung. Huh.
Please.
” The “please” sounded more like a command than a whine, and that was sexier than hell— listening to him beg in that deep voice of his. The noises made me a lot more…
enthusiastic
about this particular act than I typically was. His begging made me bolder, made me explore and try different combinations of lips and tongue and fingers to make him nuts.

I grabbed the lube he’d tossed onto the bed and warmed some up with my fingers before working him open more, licking and nuzzling his ass cheeks at the same time.

“
Fuck.
Clark. Nuuuugggh… stop… teasing. Just go.”

I didn’t ask if he was sure, but I took my sweet time complying, putting on the condom in between more fingering.

“Like it fast and dirty?” I asked as I positioned myself at his entrance. “Typical.”

“How… so?”

“Always chasing the big rush. Even when you think you’re not.” I nipped at his shoulder as I pushed in with a smooth stroke. He wanted the burn— thank you very much to our little drunken chat for that little tidbit. I’d taken
copious
mental notes, and I could also read the tension in his back muscles.

He rewarded me with a moan that might have been pulled from the depths of Mordor. He thrashed and bit the pillow, even as he pushed back onto me, filthy muffled curses spilling from his mouth.

I lavished his back with kisses, a soft counterpoint to the hard thrusts he demanded.

“Oh
fuck.
Clark.” His hands cast around restlessly, and I captured them, pinning him to the mattress with our interlocked fingers. The sheets pulled loose from the bed, but I didn’t slow down.

“Clark. Oh Jesus. Clark. I need…”

“I know. Take it. Right there for you.” Meaningless encouragement overflowed my mouth, interspersed with more kisses to his neck and back. I could feast a lifetime on Bryce’s shoulder blades alone.

“Fuck me.” That moan was softer, more broken. He’d reached some deep place inside himself now, completely giving himself over, and my heart went warm and open with satisfaction that I’d done that for him— gifted him with the space where he could freely ask for it.

And freely get it. “Always.”

“Yes. God, yes.” His head tipped to the side, and I used my longer torso to stretch until I could press a clumsy kiss to his mouth.

His mouth was soft and tasted salty from the sweat beading up on his face, but what really did me in was the little sigh he gave as our lips met. In that instant, my brain shifted from the “Oh my God, I get to fuck Bryce Weyland” celebration dance to the “I love Bryce, and I get to share this amazing thing with him” symphony.

I couldn’t tell him that, couldn’t let those words tumble out, could only focus on trying to make this as mind-blowing for him as it was for me. I slowed my thrusts, trying to make it last, but he made a noise of protest, pushing his hips back against me.

“Can you come just from my cock?” I angled my hips, trying to maximize the slide against his gland. His cockhead had to be dragging against the terrycloth, but he hadn’t made a move to free his hands. If anything, he was clutching me harder.

“Not… sure.” He panted. And he lied. He could. I could feel it in the bunching of his back muscles, in the sweat dripping off him, in the way he met my every thrust, and the subtle flutter of his hole against every upstroke. He just wanted to be told.

“Don’t think you have a choice.” I bit him where his shoulder and neck met, that spot that made him pliant and electrified at the same time. “Do it. Come from my cock.”

“Go harder. Don’t stop.”

“Not stopping.” My own need to come was screaming in my ears, balls tight and hamstrings burning as I slammed into him.

Love. You. Love. You.
With each hard thrust, the words seemed to reverberate through my body, to the point I was stunned he couldn’t hear it too, couldn’t sense the rhythm guiding us both higher.

“Clark. I… Jesus. Clark…
Clark.
” He said my name with such a mixed-up myriad of emotions it would have taken me a year to label them all, but I thrilled to each variation.

Yes, it’s me. Me doing this for you. To you.
With
you. Me. Me. Me. And you. Us. Together.

He moaned, head tossing, seeking, then he bit my thumb as he cried out. That was it for me, and I really hoped the hard clench of his inner muscles around my cock was him coming, because no way was I holding back now. Whatever finesse I’d had at the beginning was long gone, and I pounded through my final thrusts, orgasm rocketing through me.

“Yes. Finally. Like that. Clark.” Bryce spoke utter nonsense, but also absolute truth.

Us. Finally. Exactly like this.
I love you.
The emotion throbbed through my whole body as I slowly came down from the orgasm, gently disentangling our bodies, kissing his damp neck. I knew better than to put voice to the words, no matter how desperate I felt, so I settled for collapsing next to him, pulling him against me until we were half spooning, him splayed out like a starfish, me finding a way to be wrapped around him regardless.

He turned his head and our eyes met, his a shade I’d never seen before, an almost glowing amber. Maybe I couldn’t say the words. Maybe he couldn’t hear them. But this right here, this moment between us— it was more powerful than even the most complex equation. All physical processes? Screw that. Everything I needed to know was right in Bryce’s expression. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he brought our linked hands to his mouth, kissed the back of my hand.

His lips moved like he wanted to say something.

Say it. I will if you will,
I tried to beam the thought at him through my eyes.

Finally, he spoke, voice sounding rough and low. “I better set an alarm for the morning.”

He rolled away to mess with the clock on the nightstand, then fussed with the towel, cleaning both of us off before flipping off the lights and flopping back down.

Well. Okay then. Maybe the pretty moment
was
all me. Or maybe we were both fucking cowards. Someone was going to have to talk, and soon. Right when I’d resigned myself to a long, cold climb up insomnia mountain, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his front to my back, breath gently huffing into my hair. Later. We could talk later.

****

Chapter Seven

Bryce

I woke up alone, but this wasn’t particularly troubling. Even though we both tended towards very late nights, Clark had always been able to fuel his genius brain on less than five hours of sleep, while I luxuriated in my ability to sleep in. In college, I only scheduled morning classes if Clark was in them and bugged me to join by promising to do the lion’s share of the group work. Of course I never told him he had me at, “We can take this one together!” Taking an early class was the least of what I’d have done for Clark once upon a time.

No, waking up alone was almost a relief. It let me wallow in what an epic mistake I’d made last night. Before, I’d had this hazy sort of image that Clark and I would be good in bed together, but it was like reading an auction description for a vintage game—absolutely no guarantee the item would live up to its billing or whether the trip would be worth it. But now I knew— Clark was unequivocally worth any trouble. And what we had together wasn’t some banged-up old Pac-Man game, barely worth the money for its case. Sex with Clark was the equivalent of finding a wooden cabinet upright Blaster game in pristine condition, and I was going to spend the rest of my life craving the Clark experience.

I punched my pillow. I’d had a lot of sex in my life— probably more than Clark to be honest— but no one had ever so effortlessly figured out what I liked in bed and delivered on every dirty promise. Across the room, my Batman costume was laid out on a chair. Clark had clearly been busy. I checked the clock— the con didn’t open until ten on Sunday, so I had time before I had to get into character. I took a fast shower and threw on a pair of sweats.

It would have been too much to hope that Clark had left already, and I could hear him and Charles talking as I came down the stairway closest to the kitchen. On second thought, maybe I did need my costume. A Dark Knight mask would be perfect to hide how very much I didn’t want this awkward morning-after conversation. And I really didn’t want it with an audience.

Charles was in half his costume— pants but no gray makeup yet. Probably just as well since he was stuffing his face with the waffles Clark was dishing up. Sticky cosplay makeup sounded miserable to me. Also miserable? Clark Kenmore taking over my kitchen. Bacon I didn’t even know we had sizzled in a skillet. A plate of scrambled eggs sat on the breakfast bar while Clark worked the waffle maker like a short-order chef. Clark and Charles must have figured out the speakers again because some of the music we listened to in college was softly playing. In short, it was the most domestic scene my kitchen had known in a decade.

Terrifying.

The longing to go in and the urge to run were at war in my brain, but my feet turned to blocks of ice— like some supervillain had frozen me in place in the doorway.

“Bryce!” Clark smiled big. He too looked freshly showered and wore jeans and a T-shirt. I couldn’t help grinning at the image of him cooking in his superhero costume. He poured a cup of coffee into my favorite Wolverine mug— the one with deep gouges in the oversize cup. Holding it out, his smile wavered a bit. The ice locking me in place finally melted, and I stepped forward to grab it.

“Morning.” Clark came closer, and I thought for a second he was going to kiss me. But something in my expression must have warded him off because he pulled back at the last second. “Still take it black?”

Charles snorted. “And motor-oil thick.”

“Hey, start making the coffee, and you can start complaining.” I took a stool at the breakfast bar next to Charles. I didn’t need the coffee— I was already plenty jumpy.

“Hey, I’m happy to have someone else cook for me.” He gestured with his fork at his waffle. “We should have Clark come in on weekends. Do brunch at the bar.”

Clark made a face at that. “No offense, but I do my best cooking for two. Errr… three.”

“Touché.” Charles mangled the word as usual. “And noted. Bryce, you’re an extra wheel. Get out.”

I laughed. I didn’t want to but I laughed anyway. Charles gave me a much more pointed look than usual. “Oh, and by the way, I’ve never been more grateful for my white noise machine. Just saying.”

I was supposed to be the calm and collected one. Unflappable. Clark was the more prudish one who should be blushing and looking away guiltily. But that wasn’t how it went down. I coughed and sputtered in my coffee while Clark placidly grinned and heaped a plate with waffles, eggs, and bacon. He slid the plate in front of me, completely unfazed by the teasing.