He tugged at Tenner’s shorts and found his erection thick and long, as he’d tasted the night before. He moaned as Tenner’s hand closed around him, their bodies so close, his nerve endings firing so powerfully, differentiating his touch on Tenner’s cock from Tenner’s touch on his became a blurry sort of thing.
They were one.
They didn’t have to penetrate or fuck to be one—they were one, mouth to mouth, hand to cock, and he squeezed Tenner’s length exactly as hard as he liked his squeezed, shuddering when Tenner’s moan shook them both.
And then Tenner’s thumb skated across Ross’s cockhead, not gently, the slightly callused pad sending his arousal into the stratosphere.
“Keep that up,” he managed to gasp. “I’m going to come.”
“Wanna taste,” Tenner insisted.
“Me too.”
They had to break the kiss off, but God, they were both so desperate. Their shorts practically disappeared, and Tenner moved so his head was at Ross’s erection, and his erection was tantalizingly near Ross’s mouth.
Ross could feel the breath they both took shuddering through them. His mouth on Tenner’s cockhead happened exactly when Tenner’s mouth took his in, and after that….
There was no rational thought.
There was only the thing in his mouth—the hard, salty, explicitly male thing in his mouth—and the exquisite touch of Tenner’s hands, his mouth, his tongue, on his own.
Concentrating on what he was doing grew harder and harder and harder, and stars washed behind his eyes as he fought orgasm because he wanted Tenner’s spend flooding his senses first.
Tenner’s finger, spit-slick, tapping at his entrance tipped the scales, and Ross was not nearly as delicate with his two fingers shoving in the same place.
Their muffled moans filled the bedroom, and Tenner bucked hard, filling Ross’s mouth with come just as Ross lost all of his senses when climax unleashed his hold on his mind.
God! So good! Ross swallowed, the taste bitter and salty and earthy and good. Tenner did the same, both of them cleaning up until the other one let out a sound of protest. Tenner rested his head against Ross’s thighs, and Ross did the same.
“Ten, honey, you have to move your head up here. That’s no way to sleep.”
With a heave and a less-than-graceful set of scooting movements, Tenner eventually righted himself and the covers and the pillows, and they were face-to-face again.
Tenner had closed the drapes this time, but there was a nightlight in the bathroom, and Ross had enough glow to see that Tenner looked utterly debauched, his hair in spikes, and trails of come running from the corner of his mouth down his cheeks.
So beautiful.
Ross kissed him, licked him like a cat, cleaned him off, and then pulled back from the kiss and smiled drowsily.
“That was… spectacular.”
“No clown car necessary,” Tenner mumbled smugly.
“We’ll bring it out next week.”
“‘Kay. I’ll be ready to get it up again by then.”
Ross’s laugh was sleepy and filthy. “Oh, baby. You need to up your stamina.”
“Mm… you coming to practice Sunday?”
“To see your adorable and preternaturally well-behaved child again and have hot dogs? Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Don’t forget Mario Kart.”
“Do I have to let her win?” And wow—last Sunday’s quiet domesticity next to the last two night’s sensuality—such a toss-up. Suddenly Ross wanted it all.
“Naw. Maybe Piper can have a tantrum, just to make you feel more at home.” Tenner had a smile on his face, and his eyes closed, like he would reply to Ross’s foolishness in his sleep.
“I like your home. Maybe I’ll get used to it. Start freeloading off your beer and Wi-Fi.”
Tenner chuckled. “You could always pay for dinner.”
“I would love to take you out to dinner.”
The sudden thought of Tenner, dressed nicely, sitting across from him at a restaurant, at a concert or a baseball game, passed behind Ross’s eyes, and he almost gasped, he wanted it so badly.
“Not in Folsom,” Tenner mumbled. “Not now. But I’m trying.”
Ross blinked. “What do you mean you’re trying?”
“Asked Nina to think about it. Asked her why we shouldn’t both be happy. Asked her how she thought I should date. She didn’t get mad. It’s a first.”
Ross’s eyes burned. “God, Tenner—”
“Gotta keep you coming back without the clown car,” Tenner said, and suddenly his eyes glinted in the glow from the bathroom again. “I don’t care if it is only eight weeks. I want it to be the best eight weeks.”
“Me too.”
Tenner kissed him softly and then rolled over, probably to his most comfortable side, since he’d put the end table there, and backed into Ross’s embrace, letting him be the big spoon.
Ross tightened his arm around Tenner’s waist and kissed his shoulder, eyes still burning.
The best eight weeks. Sounded like a plan.
Except it was after midnight, so now it was only seven weeks and two days.
And that didn’t sound like enough.
ROSS WAS careful to clean up the next morning, making sure his dirty clothes were in the duffel with his toothbrush and shaving kit, and his clean clothes were on his back, and his softball uniform was on top. They were both changing clothes at work so the games could start on time.
He had to be careful, he thought. A T-shirt left there, a spare pair of briefs—those could lead to….
What? That he’d think of you? That he’d want you there over the week? That he might have a reason to push some more, get the thing he wants most of all?
That you might be that thing?
Because no kid noticed their dad’s T-shirts—Pat’s kids would probably not notice if their father wore his underwear on the outside of his pants. But Tenner would know.
And that would be enough.
Ross waited until Ten was downstairs on his way to make coffee before he took the sleep shirt he’d worn that first night and put it in Tenner’s hamper. He was wider in the chest than Tenner, and a couple of inches taller, so he wore a size larger. Tenner would notice.
The thought of Tenner wearing his shirt sometime in the next week would have to sustain him.
They both seemed preoccupied, in morning news mode, as they drank their coffee and had a breakfast of cottage cheese and fruit. Ross looked up from the newsfeed on his phone to see Tenner looking at him, teeth worrying his lower lip. He looked away when Ross caught his eye, and Ross went back to his phone, feeling a little empty.
Maybe that’s why, as they were both heading for the door, Ross stopped at the threshold.
“Did you forg—”
Ross kissed him, hard. Hard enough to make Tenner’s mouth swollen and shiny, hard enough to muss his perfectly pressed shirt and break some of the gel on the back of his hair. Hard enough to make him scrabble at Ross’s button-down, knead his back, and grind against Ross’s thigh.
Hard enough to make a groan of frustrated arousal and pull back, as he probably should have, because now was not the time.
“What are you doing to me?” Tenner asked, leaning against the door and closing his eyes.