The sun was shining through the hotel room window when Marc awoke a few hours later, his mind, body, and soul fully sated. He smiled at the man wrapped around him and wondered how a handful of hours could feel so significant. Trevor was a stranger, and yet he wasn’t.
He glanced at the clock and the smile slowly slipped from his lips—twenty to nine. By now, the roads would probably be cleared enough to get traffic moving again, and this incredible night would soon be a mere memory. He found himself wishing they could be stranded just a bit longer. He caught himself. No. That was foolish, wishful thinking, and not like him at all. What he needed to do was get up and get moving, get his head back on work where it belonged.
“I hear you thinking again.” Trevor’s voice was rough from sleep, and the raw tenor sent a flush of arousal to Marc’s groin. He gazed into the blue pair of sleepy yet still-mesmerizing eyes and decided real life could wait just a little bit longer.
“What do you say we make the most of this fine morning before hitting the road?” He slipped a hand between them, taking a firm but gentle hold of Trevor’s semierect penis and coaxing it awake.
“I was going to say you wore me out last night, but . . .” A half chuckle, half moan escaped Trevor’s throat, as if he were taken off guard by his arousal. “Seems you have the magic touch.”
Marc smiled and shimmied closer so he could align their cocks and stroke them together. The slide of hot velvet skin in his palm, the moans of pleasure rumbling from Trevor’s chest, sent a thrill through his nervous system. Trevor’s hand joined his, both of them holding each other as one, pumping, squeezing, twisting. Marc’s hips rocked into the heavenly grip of their own accord as he leaned forward and kissed Trevor. Mindless of lingering morning breath, he explored and tasted and savored the raw flavor of a man who could easily become an addiction. The thought should have been frightening, but instead only increased Marc’s desire.
Trevor used his body and free hand to push Marc to his back, then broke their kiss and, with a sly twinkle in his eyes and a seductive grin stretching his lips, slunk down Marc’s body, kissing as he went. A hand slid over the flat plane of his abdomen, into the crease of his thigh and groin, then under to cup and caress his balls. Marc spread his legs wider and lifted his hips to give Trevor more room to play. A finger teased behind his sac, to his hole, circling but not breaching, and the moan that rolled up his throat grated over his vocal chords like sandpaper. Trevor met his gaze, grin broadening, and then he dropped down and swallowed Marc’s cock in one swift but sexy motion.
Marc’s grating moan morphed into a growl loud enough to echo off the walls. All thought escaped as the wet heat engulfed his sensitive flesh, the teasing of a strong tongue, the glorious, glorious suction, the hint of teeth . . . Every blowjob before this paled in comparison, and a new bar was set for all those in the future. A thought flitted through the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp hold of it. It seemed important that he work the thought out, but his balls began to tighten and the world focused sharply to that incredible point of connection where Trevor held him on the brink with his hands and mouth. As if Trevor knew exactly what he was doing to him and how far to push, he popped his mouth off Marc’s dick and sucked one of his balls into his mouth while rolling the other in his hand. Every nerve ending sizzled and sparked.
“Ah, hell . . . Trev. Stop.”
Trevor obeyed, but the glint in his eyes suggested he was only humoring him. Marc pushed him away before he could dive back down to finish what he’d started. The confusion and disappointment that cut across his features quickly morphed back into playful pleasure when Marc shifted around so they were lying feet to head.
His gaze tracked slowly up Trevor’s body until their eyes met, and he waggled his eyebrows. “Now the boys can both party.”
“Brilliant idea,” Trevor teased, grabbing his own cock and tapping it gently against Marc’s cheek. “No wonder you’re such a successful lawyer.”
Marc covered Trevor’s hand with his, stilling his movements. “I do have a proven track record.”
“Well, then.” Trevor removed his hand and ran it through Marc’s hair, cradling the back of his head. “Show me how—”
Trevor’s words turned to senseless garble when Marc wasted no time wrapping his lips around the head of Trevor’s cock, wanting to show him everything he could do. Trevor mirrored his actions, the slick heat of his mouth consuming Marc once again. He offered no mercy as he swiftly brought Marc back to the edge with his mouth and tongue, and this time, he gently pressed two long, agile fingers inside him. And that was it.
If Trevor hadn’t already had him skirting on the brink, Marc would’ve been embarrassed by how quickly he came. A powerful, body-shaking orgasm blasted through him, seemingly with no intention of ending. His body jerked, and he heard the sound of his voice but any words were muffled beyond recognition by the stiff column of flesh filling his mouth. Trevor held him in that hot cavern until he was fully spent, then gently released him, while using his tongue to caress his now-extrasensitive skin.
“And the high-powered attorney is bested by an artis—”
Oh no, you don’t. Marc slid a finger into his mouth, alongside Trevor’s cock, slicked it up, and then pressed it into Trevor’s beautiful hole. All before the man could finish his sentence. He sucked harder while he pushed deeper, searching out Trevor’s prostate. Trevor gasped and thrust into Marc’s mouth when he’d hit the spot, and then bittersweet liquid rolled down his tongue and the back of his throat. He took it all, every last drop Trevor gave him, savoring it, committing the flavor to memory.
Marc flopped over onto his back and Trevor did the same. Marc reached for Trevor’s hand and laced their fingers together. Trevor squeezed once and tightened their hold.
Marc’s lips curled into a smile, and then he chuckled. “You were saying something about besting?”
Trevor looked over at him, his eyes dopey in a just-got-sexed-brilliantly kind of way that made Marc’s chest swell. I did that.
“We may need a retrial.” Trevor’s voice was hoarse, but the promise sent a cold spike through Marc’s postorgasmic bliss. This was a random one-nighter, and he was a grown man, a logical man, who didn’t fall in love at first sight. He certainly was not doing that now, but he couldn’t deny there was something strong and tangible going on between them. Something he wanted a whole lot more of.
The soft smile fell from Trevor’s lips, and a faint crease appeared in his forehead, as if an unpleasant thought had crossed his mind, and he jumped from the bed. “Come on,” he said, the tone of his voice a lighthearted contrast to his expression. He held out his hand, beckoning Marc to join him. “Let’s clean up.”
“I really don’t think I can get it up again that fast.” Marc chuckled but let Trevor haul him from the bed anyway. He’d certainly give it his best effort.
Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Did I say anything about sex?”
“Leading me to the shower where we’ll be all naked and wet, and not having steamy sex?” Marc teased. “That’s just wrong.”
“Hmm . . .” Trevor led him across the room and into the bathroom, still holding his hand. “Didn’t someone just say something about not being able to get it up so soon?”
“Details.” Marc watched the play of muscle on Trevor’s back as he leaned in to turn the shower on—flexing, stretching, contracting—and Marc couldn’t stop from reaching out to feel the muscle move under his palm.
“Yes, details,” Trevor said. He turned to Marc and kissed him with playful promise while they waited for the water to warm up. “If I’m going to paint you, I’ll need to study your form.”
Heat exploded into Marc’s groin. “Jesus Christ. That is the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“You’re showering with the wrong people, then.” A light flush colored Trevor’s cheeks before he turned to step inside the shower stall, pulling Marc with him. He angled their position so Marc was under the spray, and reached around behind him for the soap, holding Marc’s gaze the whole time. It wasn’t until he’d begun to slowly soap up Marc’s body that he finally let go of his hand, using both to spread the lather.
Marc stood still, watching Trevor as he almost lovingly went about making sure not an inch of Marc was left untended to. He kneeled down to scrub Marc’s legs, his groin, his balls, his penis, which liked the attention enough to begin filling out. Trevor looked up to meet his gaze and smiled. The tenderness in those eyes hit him right under the breastbone, breaking open a piece of himself too-long denied. But the taste of joy was tinged with something else . . . like yearning or regret. He couldn’t be sure of which.
He cupped Trevor’s cheek and then slid a finger along the seam of his mouth. Trevor opened and sucked the finger inside. But it was more than the act that struck Marc in ways he hadn’t expected; it was the care and reverence Trevor was showing him. As though Marc was someone who mattered.
Loneliness. That’s what it was. That was the feeling tainting the joy and contentment he’d been feeling nearly from the moment Trevor had sat down at his table the night before. Trevor’s company made the emptiness all the more apparent. How many years was it now that he’d spent the holidays alone? Even before his mom told him it was time for him to move out, Christmas had been something to dread rather than look forward to. This time of year only amplified his unworthiness and left him pining away the holiday until he could get back on a normal schedule at work.
“Hey.” Trevor’s voice drew him back to the here and now. “Where did you go?”
“I’m right here.”
Trevor rose to his feet and held the soap out. “Good, ’cause now it’s my turn.”
“Turn around, Picasso,” Marc teased.
Trevor raised his eyebrows before turning his back to Marc. “Ha-ha. I’m far better than that hack.”
“Hmm . . .” Marc kissed the nape of Trevor’s neck and then nipped, earning a subtle tremble and a moan. “I think you just pissed off every art major on the planet.”
“What’s art without a little controversy?” A hint of breathlessness in Trevor’s voice made Marc smile.
“What, indeed.”
Marc ran his hands along the solid planes of Trevor’s back, grazing the dimples just above his gorgeous butt cheeks, and slid the back of his hand through the crack. Marc had only been teasing about having sex in the shower. Mostly. This right now, though, just caressing each other, relaxing under the steady flow of hot water . . . He couldn’t imagine a better way to end this random encounter.
And he refused to analyze why that thought made him frown.
Trevor disconnected the call and sighed, dropping his phone on the table with a thunk.
“No luck?” Marc asked as he exited the bathroom, stark naked and rubbing his shower-damp hair with a towel, his olive skin heat flushed, and Trevor’s mouth watered.
He licked his lips and shook his head, watching Marc cross the room and pull a pair of sweatpants from his gym bag. “The airport is still grounded, and there are apparently over four thousand people camping out on the floors there. No one is flying anywhere today, and with that many already trying to rebook flights home, even if the runways reopen tomorrow, chances are slim I’ll get on one.”
Marc paused with his pants halfway on, and the warmth in those deep eyes tugged at Trevor’s heart. “And tomorrow is Christmas Day. I’m really sorry you’ll miss spending it with your family.”
“Thanks, but not much I can do about it,” Trevor said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as upset as he was. His last Christmas, and he wouldn’t be with them.
“Except make the most of it with a certain handsome stranger?” Marc waggled his eyebrows, and Trevor had to laugh.
“Except that,” he agreed. They had definitely made the most of it—more than once—and he had the dull but glorious ache in his backside to prove it. He could go for more. No. There wouldn’t be more. Ever.
A serious expression stole over Marc’s features as if he’d heard Trevor’s thoughts. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth. Whatever he’d been about to say stalled at the simultaneous knock at the door, call of “Room service,” and chirp of a cell phone.
Trevor stood, watching Marc, who snapped his mouth shut and only nodded before breaking their intense eye lock to answer his phone.
Trevor retrieved their breakfast cart with a thank-you and a tip, and then went about laying out their meals on the table. Scrambled eggs with bacon, hash browns, toast, and coffee for Marc; egg whites, fresh fruit, and water for Trevor. He’d already taken his vitamins, iron supplement, and meds while Marc had been finishing up in the bathroom, not wanting to have to explain the daily concoction, but popped two protein binders with a sip of the water. If Marc saw, he’d likely just assume they were vitamins.
“I’m just over at a hotel off the turnpike. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Marc said. Paused, then, “Thank you.” He ended the call, frowning as he pulled a T-shirt over his head and sat at the table across from Trevor.
“Everything okay?” Trevor asked.
Marc nodded, the frown gone as though it had never been there. “They’ve cleared the road. I’d left my number on the windshield so I wouldn’t get towed, but I can’t wait too long.” He raised an eyebrow at each of their plates and gave Trevor a pointed look. “On a diet?”
“Something like that,” Trevor said, finding himself with the urge to frown, now, too. But what for? This had been a beautiful way to pass the time, nothing more. In another life though . . . Marc might have been the kind of man he’d want more with.
“I’m suddenly feeling like a glutton,” Marc said.
“Nah. I like a man with a healthy appetite,” Trevor said and then flushed when the unintended innuendo lit a spark in Marc’s eyes and tugged his lips into a sexy grin.
“Can I give you a ride somewhere? Home?” Marc dug into his breakfast with gusto, pulling a surprised smile from Trevor. He’d always loved to watch a man with a hearty appetite eat. He couldn’t say why, but maybe it came from his nights on family dinner duty when he was growing up. Seeing people he cared about enjoying something he’d created for them gave him a wonderful feeling. Cooking had become a passion, right along with his art. And some would call cooking an art form too. He certainly did.
“Thank you, but no,” he said, fighting a sudden longing to cook for Marc. “Boulder Canyon is snowed in, and crews don’t anticipate getting the road open today. Even if I get back to the shuttle stop where I left my car, I won’t be able to get up the mountain. I’m stuck here until I can get a flight out.”
The fork Marc had been raising to his mouth paused, and that serious, thoughtful expression Trevor had seen earlier resurfaced. “So you’ll be spending your Christmas here? In a hotel, by yourself?”
Another wave of homesickness, ten times stronger than last night, flooded through Trevor’s veins, but he smiled, refusing to let it show. “With a couple hundred other stranded travelers also missing Christmas with their families, I won’t be alone.”
Marc studied him for a long moment, breaking the stare just before Trevor had the urge to squirm. Damn. If that look was anything like what Marc shot at the opposing bench in court, no wonder he was as successful as he claimed.
“Do you have a big family? Are you close?” Marc asked, funneling that attention back to his breakfast. He lifted his gaze, and the faintest of blushes colored his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy, but . . . it’s only fair, since some strange force came over me last night and I spilled my guts.” He grinned. “Must have been all that artsy mojo stuff you’ve got going on.”
Trevor laughed. “‘Artsy mojo’?”
Marc shrugged without looking up, embarrassed maybe.
Trevor popped a strawberry in his mouth, pausing for a moment to chew before he spoke. One thing he’d learned last night was that there was a big emptiness inside of Marc. He needed someone in his life who would support him one hundred ten percent, who would always be there for him. No matter what. As much as Trevor might want to try to be that person, it just wasn’t in the cards for him. He would leave Marc, and soon, whether he wanted to or not.
“I was adopted as a baby,” he finally answered, “by the best family I could have ever asked for.”
Marc lifted his gaze and smiled. “Those are the stories I like to hear.”
“I have to agree,” Trevor said. “My mom wasn’t able to have children of her own, and she hates that there are so many unwanted children out there. I’ve got three brothers and two sisters, and we’re an ethnic bunch of misfits. Even my parents: Dad is white and Mom is Hispanic. Xavier and Olivia are both Hispanic and older than me; the youngest of the bunch are Adeline and Alex, Chinese and white respectively; and Isaac, who is the same age as me, is black. Isaac and I have a long-standing argument over which of us is actually the older brother. Sometimes I think he’s the oldest of all of us, with the way he takes care of everyone, including Mom and Dad.”
“Sounds like a tight-knit family,” Marc said, and Trevor didn’t miss the note of longing in his rich voice.
“We are, but much to Mom and Dad’s dismay, we’re all grown up now, and me, Xavier, and Olivia moved out of state. Adeline still lives with them, Isaac’s only five minutes away, and Alex lives a little farther out, but still in Connecticut.”
“So what brought you all the way out to Colorado?”
“The mountains.” Trevor smiled. “They feed my artistic soul. I mean, my artsy mojo.”
Marc chuckled and put his fork down, his plate spotless. A wistful light flashed through his forest-colored eyes. “Yeah,” he said. Just a couple of feet separated them, yet his voice managed to sound distant. “I can see that.”