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Grant woke in a warm cocoon of blankets, with a body pressed up against his back. An unmistakably male body, judging by the hard length nudging Grant’s behind.
For a moment he thought he was back with Mas, but as the haze of sleep lifted, he could tell that was all wrong. Mas wasn’t that big. And besides, they were fully clothed, lying on threadbare sheets that smelled earthy and male—not naked on Grant’s silky smooth, high-thread-count sheets that always bore a faint scent of fabric conditioner.
And more to the point, the mattress was so thin it felt little better than a sheet of foam over some bricks.
Dare’s caravan.
How on earth had he ended up here? He’d been drinking. He could tell that much from the pounding behind his eyeballs and the dryness of his mouth, but he didn’t feel hungover enough to have lost all memory of the night before.
Then it came back to him. Stumbling down the road to the scrap yard. Accusing Dare of... Oh God. Grant groaned as the memories flooded in. Of tearing Dare’s sleeve. And arguing. Dare’s arm was now thrown over him, and Grant ran his fingertips over the inside. It was every bit as smooth as it looked.
So what had happened after the confrontation? More jumbled memories surfaced. For some reason, instead of being kicked out or subjected to an angry fucking like Grant would have expected, there had been hot chocolate. And conversation.
And lying in Dare’s arms and kissing.
Was that really all that had happened? Grant wiggled his hips slightly, but he certainly didn’t feel like he’d been violated, and yet he remembered wanting it. Asking for it. And then it came to him. Dare saying no.
That made no sense. What red-blooded man in his right mind would turn down an offer of an arse to fuck? Grant had never been able to. So long as the arse in question was a male one, anyway.
God, was that it? Grant just didn’t turn Dare on enough? But no, that didn’t make sense either. The man had clearly been interested last week, and while the pressure against Grant’s rear might just be everyday morning wood, somehow he didn’t think so. Not with the way Dare’s strong arm was wrapped possessively round him.
He racked his brains trying to remember if Dare had given him an explanation as to why Grant wasn’t good enough for him, but everything faded into a fuzzy grey after that. Perhaps Grant had fallen asleep in the middle of his explanation. Or perhaps Dare had never given him one. The man played his cards close to his chest, that was for sure.
Grant moved to get up—he needed to find the bathroom—but Dare’s arm just tightened around him.
“Don’t leave yet.” Dare’s voice was deep and rumbly, and since the air was freezing, it was way too easy just to sink back into his warm embrace.
An embrace that was turning ever more X-rated as Dare woke up. Grant squirmed a little, not sure about letting Dare frot against his arse. It was a little too close for comfort, although at least they were both still clothed.
“Let me move,” he said. “I won’t leave, I promise.”
Dare’s hold relaxed enough for Grant to turn in his arms, so they were facing each other. Grant dodged a morning-breath kiss and went for Dare’s neck instead. The rough whiskers chafed his lips, but it was strangely erotic. And in the meantime, he worked his free hand down into Dare’s trackie bottoms. It was humid in there, and Dare’s cock felt sweaty in his grip. All the better for a good hand job, though.
The groan Dare gave him was rewarding in itself, but when he went all boneless and just let Grant do his thing, that was even better. Maybe this was the only way to top him—catch him when he was all muzzy-headed with sleep. That was all right, though. Grant had nothing against morning sex, although he definitely preferred it on days where he didn’t have to go into work afterwards. He’d have to come back at the weekend for another round.
He humped against Dare’s thigh as he worked his cock and sucked his jawbone. It was heating up under the covers now, and Grant threw his head back for a bracing lungful of frigid air.
That was when Dare moved in and took advantage of his momentary distraction. Now Grant was the one having his neck attacked, and a large hand was pushing his boxers out of the way.
“Do us both together,” Dare insisted, mashing Grant’s dick against his own.
“God, yes.” Grant wrapped his hand around them both and gave some long, slow strokes. Judging by the sounds of appreciation Dare made, that was a move they both enjoyed. But after a while, Dare closed his hand over Grant’s and picked up the pace.
Things were spinning out of Grant’s control again. Dare had moved down to his collarbone and it felt like he was sucking up a mark there. “Don’t,” he tried to say, but it came out sounding like “please.” Oh God, Grant hadn’t had a love bite since he was a teenager, and as that one had been from a girl, he’d not been particularly excited by the result.
But here and now? The idea of wearing Dare’s mark on his skin made his dick swell and his balls tighten. Grant rutted into their joined fists, all semblance of control lost. All that mattered was chasing his orgasm.
And dragging Dare with him.
“Come on,” Grant demanded. “Want you to come all over my dick.” It felt weird, using dirty talk with Dare for the first time. So far between them, things had always been the other way around.
But Dare didn’t seem to mind. He moaned against Grant’s neck and tightened his fist, setting a punishing pace.
In the end, Grant couldn’t be sure which of them came first. There could only have been seconds in it. They both froze, and Dare’s dick pulsed against his own, intensifying his climax. Spunk burst through Grant’s fist. So much spunk. He laughed at the abundance of it all and gave a few leisurely last strokes, all messy and wet.
“Fuck me, that was lush,” Dare mumbled and rolled onto his back, pulling Grant’s head down to his chest.
Felt odd, being cradled like that. Grant was no stranger to using another man’s chest as a pillow, but that was usually after he’d topped their arses. And he’d never had anyone hold him there in such a possessive way.
Dare began to snore.
Grant’s alarm sounded from somewhere on the floor.
For Christ’s sake. “Let go, I’ve got to get up.” Grant did his best to throw off Dare’s hold, but it was tricky when his muscles hadn’t yet come back online. “Come on, I need to shower and shave before I go to work.”
“Mmm, why bother?”
“Because some of us have to look smart for our jobs.”
“Glad I’m not an office drone, then.”
“Me too. I can’t exactly see you fitting in in that kind of environment.” Grant shrugged again and this time managed to throw off Dare’s grip. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was pitch-black still. “Where the hell’s the light switch?”
“Over by the door. Same as in most places.”
“Great. I can’t even remember which direction that is.”
Dare grunted, and Grant felt the bed shift underneath them. “Good thing you’re pretty, because I wouldn’t get out of bed this early for any old slapper.”
“Did you just call me a slapper?” Grant didn’t know whether to be outraged or not, but when the light flicked on and he saw Dare’s sleepy grin, he decided to take it in that spirit.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re a sexy bastard, because I wouldn’t sleep on a mattress this thin with any old tramp.”
“Touché.” Dare pretty much fell back onto the bed as Grant began locating his clothes on the floor. There was his suit jacket, with his phone and keys safely stashed in the pockets.
In the other corner, he found his shirt and tie, and an exceedingly crumpled pair of trousers. He was still wearing his socks and underwear, so that was everything bar his shoes and coat, which must be out in the main room of the caravan.
There was a mirror set in the wardrobe door, and Grant caught a glimpse of himself. He stopped and stared. He was wearing some grungy old T-shirt of Dare’s with an anarchy sign on the front, and his hair was all mussed up and falling over his forehead. Combined with the shadow of his stubble, he looked like another person. A more relaxed person that he didn’t recognise.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t mark your neck,” Dare said.
Grant pulled off the T-shirt to check. “You marked my collarbone, though.” There it was, a livid round bruise on the left-hand side.
“Yeah, but that’ll be covered by your shirt.”
True, but Grant grumbled a bit anyway, not wanting to let on how pleased he was with the mark. Didn’t want Dare to get ideas and start covering him in the things. He tugged on his shirt but didn’t bother with the tie. He’d only be stripping it off again as soon as he got home.
“Want breakfast?” Dare asked. “I’ve got Pop Tarts. And maybe some Ready Brek.”
“Pop Tarts? My daughters like those awful things. You eat like a big kid.”
Dare just chuckled. “I am a big kid.”
Grant’s stomach was definitely empty, but after the amount he’d drunk last night, he wasn’t going to trust himself to hold down junk food. “It’s all right. I’ll get a bowl of muesli at home. No, you don’t need to get up.”
“Someone’s got to unlock the gate for you.”
“Maybe you should get an electronic latch fitted. So you didn’t have to keep coming out to open and close it.”
“Maybe. But I don’t mind the exercise. And I can always come straight back to bed again, can’t I?”
Solly jumped up from a dog bed by the front door as Grant walked through, and she came over to greet him. He patted her head. “I’m surprised she didn’t come in and join us last night.”
“Nah, I like her to sleep out here, near the dog flap in case something goes on outside. She’s a guard dog, not a pet.” Dare leaned down to give Solly a vigorous rub behind the ears.
“You could have fooled me. You’re giving her even more fuss than my girls give to Mabel.”
“Who’s Mabel?”
“She’s my Golden Retriever. Or at least, she was. I couldn’t exactly bring her to live here in a flat that’s empty most of the time. And besides, I would have felt bad, taking her away from Harriet and the girls.”
“That’s rough, though. I didn’t know you’d had to leave a dog behind as well.”
Grant tried to smile. “It’s not as tough as leaving my two girls behind. Trust me.”
Dare nodded, and thankfully, he didn’t pursue the topic. Grant didn’t really want to dwell on it first thing in the morning. Far too depressing.
The walk out to the gate was over almost too quickly. Grant was glad to have Dare’s silent, strong company, though. The morning was dark and misty, and it was surprisingly creepy, the way everything was so quiet. Perhaps it was just the fog dampening down sound. Whatever it was, Grant was sorry to have to leave Dare behind at the gate.
“Are you going back to bed now, then?” he asked.
“Nah, I’m all wide awake now.” Dare stretched and yawned, then scratched his crotch. “I’ll have a bite to eat, then start work, I reckon. Got plenty I can be getting on with.”
“Okay.” Grant stood there, unsure of what to say next.
“Hadn’t you better be off?” Dare suggested, but it didn’t sound like he was desperate to rid himself of Grant’s company, which was nice.
“Maybe next time you could come to mine,” Grant blurted out.
Dare smiled slowly. “You sure you want your neighbours seeing the likes of me calling round at your place?”
“I’ve hardly ever set eyes on any of my neighbours. Besides, I think if anyone did see you, they’d think you were round to fix the plumbing or something.”
But perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because Dare’s expression grew frosty. “Right. Because we wouldn’t want anyone knowing you like a bit of rough, would we?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Or had he? Grant wasn’t so sure now. “I’m just... You have to give me a break. I’m not out like you are.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Grant wanted to protest that he was going to come out soon, but Dare was already locking the gate behind him.
“I’ll see you soon,” he finished weakly.
“Maybe.”
Dare walked away, and the fog swallowed him up.