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“Fat chance,” he teased, draining the last of the iced coffee from his can and crumpling it in his frustrated fist as if they were starting the day’s first six-pack.
“What? Why?” Flynn’s big blue eyes stared across the table at him, beseeching and just shy of desperate.
“Because part of desire, Flynn,” Lane pointed out, standing slowly from the table and aware that his lover’s eyes were watching him almost desperately. “Part of making someone feel good, as in, really, really good, is stretching things out. Making them want it, really, really badly.”
Flynn gulped audibly, standing from the breakfast nook on shaky legs. “You mean, like you’re doing to me right this very minute?”
“You want me?” Lane teased, reaching down to grip Flynn’s hand. The touch was surprisingly seismic, he felt, for both of them. Flynn gripped it eagerly, trailing along beside him as they drifted down the hallway, dodging toolboxes and tarps, toward the back bedroom. Sun filtered in across the big white bed where they’d writhed and spunked the night before, the room smelling sexy and clean in equal measure.
“Right now?” Lane teased, standing in front of his open gym bag, the one he’d packed for his supposedly solitary holiday weekend getaway.
“Obviously,” Flynn murmured, his voice a pitiful croak as Lane winked and promptly tugged off his boxer shorts, hanging them off a handy knob from the bureau nearby. “What… what are you doing, you male hussy?”
Lane bent over, making the most of his raw, sexy, sticky nakedness as he wriggled his big, pale ass while sorting through the meager contents of his bag. “Ah, here it is!” He made a big “ta-da” of standing up straight, his cock limp but thickening with the sexy pantomime as Flynn watched, eyes wide and gulping for air like a goldfish who’d managed to flop out of his bowl. He glanced at Flynn, still wearing his cute little striped boxers. “Go on,” he murmured, nodding toward his own bag a few steps away. “Grab your baggies and we’ll head out to the beach.”
“But… but you’re naked now,” Flynn moaned. “Can’t we just, you know? Do… something?”
Lane felt the sizzle of desire inching up his loins, thickening his balls and stiffening his prick. He enjoyed tempting Flynn like this, practicing what he’d just preached by teasing the sexy fucker—and himself, no doubt—by putting him off at least a little longer.
“We are doing something,” he grunted, finally reaching over to pull on his red, white, and blue baggies, slithering into them sensuously and admiring Flynn’s big eyes as they watched every detail of his sexy pantomime.
“What exactly are we doing?” Flynn sighed as Lane loosely tied a bow in the strings dangling from the waistband of his too-big baggies.
“Learning to want each other, baby,” Lane murmured, inching close enough to favor Flynn with a quiet, chaste kiss that yearned to be so much more. For both of them. “Taking our time with one another…”
