| |
Grant stared at his phone. Gorgeous? Dare thought he was good-looking? It shouldn’t perhaps have come as a surprise—Grant knew he was what most people considered handsome—but Dare hadn’t given him the impression he was particularly taken with him, other than as a notch on his bedpost. Grant would be willing to bet they were neither of them the other’s type.
The air grew chillier as Grant waited, but it was worth it when he saw Dare’s shadowy figure growing closer. He was accompanied by that dog as well. Solly? Grant patted his pockets, wishing he’d thought to bring her a treat. He always used to have them in his pockets for Mabel. Next time.
“Hi,” Grant called out. “Thanks for letting me in.”
Dare didn’t reply, which made Grant feel like an idiot—after all, they hadn’t exactly parted on the best terms the last two times they’d met—but at least he started unlocking the padlock.
“So, you changed your mind about fucking?” Dare asked as he opened the gate.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, I did say to call round in the evening if you ever changed your mind. And here you are. Definitely after office closing hours, isn’t it? So it can’t be a business call. I’m guessing it’s a booty call.”
“It’s not too late to be working. You were.”
“Huh?”
“I could hear you.” Now that Dare was up close in Grant’s face, he could smell fresh sweat pouring off him. “You smell like you’ve been working.” Hopefully that didn’t sound too hungry.
Dare stepped back. “Working out, yes. Just doing a few bench presses to finish off the day.”
That would explain the metallic clunking. Grant pictured Dare pressing weights. But there was something missing from the picture. “Wait, you do that by yourself?”
“Why not?”
“I always have someone to spot for me.” Not only did Grant’s gym insist on it, but he’d always agreed with the safety precaution.
“Good for you. But I like working out alone, so I don’t have anyone to spot for me.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a rack with safety pins, and I always keep my phone handy. And you know what, in all the years I’ve been working out, I’ve never once had an accident. I’m far more likely to get injured wrecking vehicles.” Dare began walking as he spoke, and Grant had to almost run to catch him up. The man had long legs, that was for sure.
“But still, don’t you think you owe it to your family—”
“What the fuck do you know about my family?”
Except for his dad being a git? “Nothing. Sorry.”
“Right. Exactly. So keep your mouth shut about stuff that doesn’t concern you.”
“Sorry.” Clearly, family was a touchy subject with Dare. Grant filed that away for later. Perhaps there was something that Cecil could use there. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Grant continued, hoping to salvage the conversation. “I’ve just got family on my mind right now. I’m having to discuss custody and access arrangements with my wi— Ex-wife.”
“You’ve got kiddies?”
“Two girls. I miss them.” He really did, he realised. Not that he’d ever spent huge amounts of time with them, but he’d always known they’d be there waiting when he got home. And he’d always kissed them good night, even when they’d already been asleep by the time he rolled in.
They’d reached the metal bullet caravan now. The feeble illumination of the street lights barely stretched this far, and Grant waited in the dark while Dare opened the door. Light spilled out, and Grant followed him up the steps into the warm, cosy interior.
It wasn’t what he’d expected at all. From Dare’s rough-and-ready exterior, he’d expected a rough-and-ready interior, but asides from the mess, the place was clearly well cared for. The fixtures in the little galley kitchen off to the right were all good quality, and the built-in seats around the small table in the main living area had been covered in what looked like real red leather. The windows were curtained in a similar red colour, and the whole place felt like being wrapped in warmth. Funny that, because on a winter’s night, he’d assumed it would be chilly inside.
It certainly wasn’t chilly when Dare pressed up against Grant. “’Scuse,” Dare said, smirking as he ground his crotch against Grant’s. “Just got to get past you to the kitchen.”
Grant tried to get his breathing back under control as Dare rooted through the cupboards. Sounds of cursing were eventually replaced by a triumphant “Aha! There you are, you little bastard,” and Dare thumped a large bottle of Jack Daniels down onto the counter. He then slopped a generous measure each into two mugs. Not glasses, but mugs. Grant had never had alcohol out of a mug before.
“Here you go,” Dare said, handing over one of the mugs of bourbon. “Bottoms up!” He raised his own mug and took a large swig. “Ahh, proper job.”
“Do you have any ice?” Grant asked.
“No, I don’t. Bleedin’ well drink it like a man.”
Grant was rather more reserved in his sip. “Not bad.” Actually, that wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was the three strong drinks he’d already had talking, but he could probably get used to lukewarm Jack Daniels if he had to. And it looked like he probably would if he called round here again.
“You’re drinking like a little kiddie. Come on. Have a proper swig.”
“I’ve already had a few drinks,” Grant protested. “I’m going to need to be able to walk home later.”
“You can always kip here if you need to. I’ve got a bed.”
“What do you need a bed for in your office?”
Dare narrowed his eyes. “Hey, I like a siesta in the summer the same as the next bloke. What, you seriously telling me you’ve never had a nap after lunch?”
“Maybe after Christmas dinner. Or when I’m on holiday, but not at work. My boss would flip if he caught me sleeping in my office.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess there are more perks to being self-employed than I’d thought. I can take a nap whenever the fuck I want, and there’s no bugger to tell me otherwise.” Dare sauntered over to the dinette table and sat down at one end of the semicircular seat. Then he scooted over to make room at the end. “Come on. Join me.”
Grant walked over to the other side of the seat and sat there instead.
“I see, like that, is it?” Dare grinned and slid along the seat until he fetched up next to Grant. “You can’t get away from me that easily.” He laid a hand on Grant’s thigh as he spoke.
“Do you need constant reassurance or something?” Grant snipped. “All this touching makes you look pretty needy.”
But Dare wasn’t fazed. He smiled and kneaded Grant’s thigh. “I’m just tactile. And you look like a man who’s been starved of touch for a while. You get so fucking jumpy whenever I get near you.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re far too bold.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. You ask me, you need some shaking up. I bet there’s a real wild child hidden under that suit somewhere.”
“Good thing I didn’t ask you, then.”
“Good thing I’m quite happy to give you the benefit of my opinion anyway.”
The man was insufferable, but as Grant opened his mouth to say so, Dare moved in for a kiss. A bourbon-flavoured kiss, all tongue and hungry lips. Grant couldn’t help responding. Dare kissed like no one else Grant had ever encountered. He was forceful but patient, biding his time until Grant was the one grabbing hold of Dare’s jacket and pulling him closer. He could swear he felt Dare’s self-satisfied smile against his lips. Smug bastard.
Eventually, Dare pulled back. “So, you just came here to talk, did you?”
“Fuck talking.” Grant wanted more, and he started unbuttoning Dare’s shirt.
“Actually, I was thinking of fucking your mouth.”
If Dare had suggested fucking Grant’s arse, he’d have objected, but a blowjob would be fine, wouldn’t it? Grant had given plenty of those before, although somehow he didn’t think Dare was the kind of man to let Grant pin him down and do things at his own pace.
But what the hell. Maybe Grant did need things shaking up a bit. He could at least give it a go. What was the worst that could happen? A bit of gagging and a sore throat? He could deal with both of those. “Okay,” he found himself agreeing.
“You needn’t sound so enthusiastic.”
“Piss off.”
“On your knees, pretty boy.”
“I’m not pretty, and I’m not a boy.” Grant stood and stared down at Dare, but the bastard didn’t look remotely intimidated.
“You definitely are pretty, and I reckon I’ve got a few years on you. How old are you, anyway?”
“Thirty-seven,” Grant admitted.
“Okay, then you’re a few months older. Shit. Guess that makes you my bitch rather than my boy.” Dare chuckled and leered. “Kneel, bitch.”
“Fuck off.” But now Grant was laughing himself, and he wobbled down onto his knees. Dare took care of his trousers, which was a good thing as they were all buttons and kind of confusing for a man whose head was swimming with spirits.
The rich scent of musky crotch hit his nostrils, and then the anaconda sprang forth.
Grant gasped.
Up close, Dare’s dick was more intimidating than Grant had imagined. He hadn’t been lying about the nine inches, and he was thick too. Grant was going to have a jaw ache tomorrow, that was for sure.
And there was absolutely no way he was letting that monster anywhere near his virgin arse. He’d just have to get Dare off with his mouth so he didn’t have the energy to pester Grant about that again.
“You gonna spend all night staring, or are you going to show you’re not all mouth and no trousers?”
“Hey, I think you’ll find I’m all mouth, and you should be the one with no trousers.” Grant tugged down on Dare’s trousers, pulling them so they pooled around his ankles. “My God. You’re colourful.” Ink swirled down Dare’s legs, only partly obscured by the hair that grew there. The tattoos were mostly a bunch of retro, fifties-looking images. American cars, flaming hands of cards, and so on. There were even pretty girls showing off cleavage, which seemed kind of weird for a gay bloke. “Have you got more of these under your shirt?” He went to lift Dare’s sweatshirt but didn’t get far, as Dare’s hands came out to stop him.
“Less talking, more sucking. You can check out my ink later.”
God, the man was irritating, but what was even more annoying was the way Grant’s body responded to Dare’s commanding tone. That was his job, to be the one in charge, but right now his dick clearly didn’t think so. And Dare’s dick agreed. It bashed against his cheek as Dare swung his hips. “Okay, okay. Impatient much?”
Grant grabbed hold of the fat shaft and pumped hard. Much harder than he’d normally handle another man’s meat, but Dare had it coming.
“Oh yeah, that’s nice, but I’m still not seeing any tongue action.”
“Fuck you.” Grant continued to savagely wank Dare’s dick while he stuck his tongue out and took a lick. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. He’d been worried that Dare’s personal hygiene might not be up to much, but it turned out the rich smell of cock wasn’t down to Dare being unwashed. Maybe it was because his pubes trapped the scent. The thick nest of them tickled Grant’s fist on every downstroke he made. Grant was used to lads who didn’t have any body hair whatsoever. To discover Dare had a surplus of hair everywhere but his head was a bit of a shock.
He didn’t quite know how he felt about the body hair, or the tattoos, or being on his knees, but one thing was clear, having just the tip of Dare’s cock in his mouth was turning him on like nothing else. He salivated and went to engulf more of the thick length. It touched everywhere inside his mouth, waking up nerve endings Grant hadn’t even realised were there. He made a happy noise in his throat and took Dare deeper. As deep as he could manage without gagging, and he still was only just touching his fist with his lips.
“Oh yeah, that’s good. You look right down there on the floor, choking on my cock. Yeah, that’s it, try to take it deeper. Go on, open up for me.”
Grant couldn’t exactly tell Dare to piss off, but he gave him the one finger salute.
Dare just laughed. Cocky bastard.
And then Dare got to his feet, grabbed hold of Grant’s hair and began thrusting.
No man had ever tried to fuck Grant’s face before, and he was half inclined to push Dare away. It was too much. And not enough. Grant’s head swam with contradictions. He worked his tongue and lips, sucking hard every time Dare pulled out.
“Hands behind your back,” Dare said, his voice stern. “Come on. I want to fuck your throat.”
Grant shook his head, his eyes watering. Not going to happen. He stared up at Dare, wondering how things had got out of his control so fast, but all he could see was a pair of lust-glazed eyes and a wolfish smile.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Grant jerked his head back so he was free of Dare’s cock. “For you, maybe.”
“What, are you trying to tell me you’re not enjoying this? Your dick says otherwise.”
Grant looked down at the tent in his trousers. “Yeah, well I’m enjoying this, but I don’t think I’d enjoy deep throating you. You’re way too big.”
“Ah, music to a man’s ears.” Dare chuckled, and something softened in his expression. “All right, then. Fair play. Since you’re not used to blowing real men, I’ll let you off this time. But you should probably go home and get in some practice with a dildo before you next come round.”
“Fuck off.”
“Nah, I’m gonna fuck you instead.”
“Not happening. No way. Not with something that size.” It would hurt, that much Grant was sure of.
“Oh come on, it’s not the length that makes much difference. It’s the girth, and I’m big, but not that big. Come on, you must have had something this size up there. Even if it was only a plug or a dildo.”
“I don’t use them. Not on me, anyway.” He’d had plenty of fun playing with Mas’s cute little arse and a plug one time. But since it had been the very last time they’d slept together, the memory was bittersweet.
“What, never? Mate, you’re missing out. I’ll have to get some out next time you’re round. We could work on stretching you up gradually, then you’ll easily be able to take me.”
The very idea made Grant’s buttocks clench and his balls fizz. “I don’t know what kind of man you think I am,” he said stiffly, “but I’m not one of those kinky submissive types.”
“Chill. I’m not into hardcore kink either. It’s just, well, toys are fun. And fucking’s fun. So you put them both together and it’s bleedin’ fantastic. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, I suppose...”
“And you look like a man who needs a bit more fun in his life. You’re so tightly wound up.” Dare took hold of Grant’s chin and stared into his eyes. “I want to see what you’re like when you really let go. Have you ever let go properly before?”
“Of course I have.”
“Really? Like your brain switches off completely and you’re just living in the moment, and it’s all lush sensations? Because I don’t reckon you have. I reckon you’ve always kept a part of yourself back. So you can feel in control. Am I right or am I right?”
“You’re an arrogant bastard,” Grant countered.
Dare just grinned. “I guess that makes two of us, then.”