“You.”
Trent snapped his head up in surprise, unsure of what to say except, “Let me see.”
“No.”
“And you call me annoying.” Trent huffed.
“Aren’t we supposed to be getting to know each other?”
“We are.”
“Then shouldn’t we be having conversation?” Wood asked and popped some more candy in his mouth.
“Here.” Trent picked up his other controller and tossed it in Wood’s lap. “Let’s bond.”
Wood laughed. “What am I supposed to do with this? Throw it back at you… only harder?”
“Press the X and join in.” Trent kept thumbing at his controller as his guy got ambushed while he was distracted with Wood. “Now look what you did. You got me killed.”
“Trent, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t moved, so if you died, then it was meant to be,” Wood said dryly. “It’s nine… turn that damn thing off and flip to the news.”
Trent looked at Wood as if he had two heads. “News?”
“Don’t you wanna know what’s going on in the world?”
“I’m doing my best not to.” Trent grinned. “I like this bubble I’m in right here.” With you.
Wood closed his notebook and tossed it on the coffee table, then got up and sat down way to close too him on the couch. And right on cue, Trent’s body responded to Wood’s powdery, masculine scent that seemed to never fade. He was still holding the controller tightly in his hands though the game had timed out and was over. This was the first time his body had such a responsive reaction to someone else, male or female.
“Trent,” Wood said, making him flinch when his breath ghosted across his cheek.
“Hmm,” he answered absently.
“The remote, please?”
Trent glanced around, confused. “Huh?”
“I want to change the television from this blue screen. Can I have the clicker, please?”
Remote, remote, where’s the damn remote?
Wood nudged him against his shoulder, then pressed a solid hand in the center of his chest and pushed until Trent was in a reclining position. His breath hitched when Wood leaned his upper body across his lap and snagged the remote off the end table. Damn, he was heavy and firm, and Trent found that he liked that… no, he loved it. He was breathing hard as he snatched one of the flimsy throw pillows from beside him and thrust it in his lap. He was sure that Wood noticed his predicament, but he didn’t say anything as he began flipping through the local channels.
Trent pretended to be interested in the boring news while he willed his erection to go down long enough for him to get up and retreat. He needed a release so badly, and if he didn’t get it, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Did Wood have to sit so close that their thighs and shoulders were touching? Trent had one hand clutching the pillow and the other at his side, digging into the seat. He leaned his head back against the cushion and turned his face away, needing to breathe in something other than Wood’s scent. Fuck, he was hard and throbbing… maybe he should… Damnit. I’m acting like I’m the one of us that’s fresh out of prison.
Wood’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and Trent almost jumped off the couch. Wood stared at him as if he was concerned, then placed his big hand on his knee and squeezed. “You all right?”
Jesus. Trent nodded. “Mmmhmm.” He didn’t trust his voice to speak, not with Wood’s palm burning his skin through his thin pants. While keeping their connection, Wood took his phone out and checked his message.
“It’s from Edison. He and Bishop wanna come over tomorrow night to eat dinner and watch a movie,” Wood informed him. “He’s bringing enchiladas.”
“Mmm.”
Wood tucked his phone away, then draped his arm across the back of the couch, and Trent lurched like he’d been punched in the nuts. That’s how much they ached. Wood leaned in close to his ear, and Trent turned away, too damn nervous to do what he really wanted. What if he didn’t kiss like a man wanted to be kissed? His mouth watered at Wood’s cinnamon-scented breath. And he wondered if he shoved his tongue in his mouth right now, would he taste like a Fireball shot? “Feel like some company tomorrow night… or… it can just be me and you again. You still trying to get to know this stranger?”
Wood knew all the right things to say. The man had a way of articulating things—suave and classic were the words that came to mind—that Trent wasn’t used to hearing from his generation. He’d long conceded that his hard-on wasn’t going anywhere, and he was pretty sure that was Wood’s plan. Trent opened his eyes and stared down at Wood’s hand still gripping his knee. When he looked up, Wood’s chiseled face was right there, and Trent slowly brought his hand up and ran his fingers through Wood’s short salt-and-pepper beard. Finally. He’d been wanting to know what it felt like, and it was softer than he’d expected, so much that he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Wood’s mouth when he kept talking.
“It’s up to you, Trent. What do you wanna do this weekend?” Wood said, his voice even smokier.
Trent met Wood’s half-lidded eyes, and he wasn’t afraid of the deep yearning he saw… that he’d been hoping for. He thought it might be nice to be needed for a change, maybe even to the point that it’d be hard to let him go. He dropped his hand to the center of Wood’s chest and felt his rapid heartbeat. “I say yeah. Edison’s enchiladas are amazing, and that way neither of us have to cook.”
“Good thinking.”
“You off on Sunday?” Trent asked.
“Yeah. I’m off every weekend.” Wood used the pad of his rough thumb to caress the back of Trent’s neck, sending electrical charges down his spine.
“You watch football?” Trent smirked.
“No. But I’ll watch it with you,” Wood answered.
The inside of Trent’s mouth went dry, and his cock leaked enough to make a damp spot in his pants. “That’s all I do on Sundays if you wanna join me.”
“Yeah.” Wood licked his lips, and Trent knew it was time for him to go. He was no mind reader, but he was grown enough to recognize that look in Wood’s darkening eyes. The one that said he better run.
“Cool,” Trent answered, not feeling composed at all. He inched away from Wood’s heat, tossed the pillow to the side, and got off the couch. He made sure to keep his hips forward when he turned and told Wood good night.
“Night.” Wood gave him a shallow nod, and Trent disappeared around the corner.
He damn near jogged down the hall and shouldered open his door to get inside his bedroom. He needed privacy. Now. Trent leaned against the nearest hard surface, unable to believe what the hell had just happened. Had he just had a date with a man? With Wood! Sure, they already lived together and it’d just been them eating dinner, then sitting in the living room for a while. But what they’d done had felt extremely intimate. And he was pretty sure they’d also made a date for Sunday. Was it possible to date someone he already lived with?
Trent yanked his shirt over his head and ran his hands down his stomach. His skin was on fire as he reached into his pants and gave his cock a couple of firm tugs to ease the immediate ache. He wasn’t about to make this quick—he wanted to draw it out because he hadn’t had jerk material this good in a long time. He’d really enjoyed himself tonight. The sound of Wood’s voice, the way he smelled, and the feel of his breath on his face, he’d craved it all. If only he felt more confident, he might’ve let Wood make his move. God only knew how horny the man was, but Trent wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared, or knowledgeable enough yet. Trent kicked his pants off until he was down to his boxer shorts, moaning at the relief as he kept up a leisurely pace on his cock. He used some of the stickiness that’d built up on his head to slick down his shaft and on his balls, imagining it was Wood’s mouth instead of his tight fist.