“Morgs?” James began, not sure where to go once he’d said the other man’s name.
Morgan lifted his head and smiled, but James could see it was forced, and the sight of it made his chest ache.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll send a car for you tomorrow at five,” he said, smoothly interrupting. “Do you want to be picked up here or at your hotel?”
Apparently, he was going to pretend there was nothing wrong. Fine, James could do that, too. For now, anyway. But they were going to talk. Even if he had to tie Morgan to a chair to make it happen.
“Probably the hotel. I don’t have any clean clothes, and I’ve a bit of shopping to do tomorrow. I never did get Tris an engagement gift.” He needed to pick up some things for Morgan, too. But he wasn’t about to mention that, right now. He’d drop those off at the flat before he headed back to his room—they weren’t necessarily anything he wanted to bring to supper with other people. He could just imagine accidentally giving Tristan and her fiancé the wrong gift—a bag full of sex toys and lube. And in front of Morgan, no less.
“Okay.” Yawning widely, Morgan nodded, his face rubbing against James’ chest.
He tightened his arms around Morgan, listening as the other man’s breathing finally slowed then evened out. James didn’t want this to end. No, his schedule wasn’t great for a relationship, but he could maybe make it work. For Morgan, he’d make it work.
But that was the real problem. Morgan was fine with keeping this a secret fling, but anything longer term than this, and the secret would be out. James was in the public eye more often than he wasn’t, and sooner or later, Morgan would be outted whether he wanted it or not. His sexuality wasn’t a complete secret, and he certainly wasn’t pretending to be straight, but Tristan had mentioned more than once that her father insisted Morgan be discreet. Even if James convinced him to give what they had a chance, it would only be a matter of time until it was all over the tabloids. He couldn’t do that to Morgan.
Swallowing past the boulder that had materialized in his throat, James realized that the best thing he could do for him was walk away after the wedding. Even if it ripped out his fucking heart in this process.
At some point, James must have slept, since he woke to Morgan kissing him goodbye. Opening his eyes, he squinted up at the only man he’d ever truly cared about.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Morgan said, smiling. All traces of last night’s reticence and sadness were gone.
“Morning,” he groaned, stretching.
Morgan sighed. “Having you naked in my bed makes going to work nearly impossible.”
James pushed up on his elbows. “I’m more than happy to make you late, again.”
“Of course, you are,” he said, trailing a finger down James’ chest.
James caught his hand and brought it to his lips, sucking the digit into the the wet heat of his mouth. Scraping his teeth along Morgan’s skin as he pulled it free, he reached out and cupped Morgan’s cock where it tented the front of his pants. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
Morgan’s eyes fluttered closed at the caress, and James wanted nothing more than to open his pants and suck him off. Instead, he held Morgan’s gaze and reached beneath the sheet and stroked his own stiffening erection.
Groaning, Morgan yanked down the bedding, baring James’ body. He leaned over and pulled the head of James’ cock into his mouth, engulfing the tip as James continued to thrust into his own hand, the side of his fist bumping hard against Morgan’s lips.
He pulled off briefly, spit on his fingers and worked one between James’ arse cheeks, inching inside the tight muscle, watching his face the entire time. James gasped as Morgan, lips curving, crooked his finger and unerringly found the spot he was looking for. Turning away, Morgan drew as much of James’ prick into his mouth as he could while he continued fingering his hole.
James’ hips started to buck upward off the bed, and he rubbed his cock harder and faster, hitting Morgan’s mouth with more force with nearly every stroke. Christ, if he wasn’t careful, he’d be sending the other man to the office with bruises and a fat lip.
His free hand found its way into Morgan’s hair, and he made the most beautiful noise James had ever heard before. It was caught somewhere in between a whimper and a groan. James tightened his fingers, shoving his lover’s head down farther on his cock. Tingles of impending release shimmered up and down James’ limbs, and he pumped his hips more frantically, sending his shaft slamming into the back of Morgan’s throat. An almost guttural moan escaped Morgan and settled in James’ balls.
It was more stimulation than he could handle, and he lost the fight to hold back. He pushed harder and deeper into Morgan’s mouth as nearly unbearable pressure built in his core. Finally, he exploded, and pleasure screamed along his nerve endings as he came down Morgan’s throat in urgent, gushing bursts.
Morgan continued to suck, more gently, now, drawing out the last of James’ release, before he finally pulled off and carefully withdrew from James’ hole. Putting a knee on the mattress, Morgan lowered his head and kissed James deeply, letting him thoroughly taste himself on Morgan’s tongue.
When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead briefly against James’ and sighed. “Now, I’ve gone and made myself late for work.”
James’ gaze dropped to the other man’s slightly puffy lips. “I’d say I’m sorry, but...fuck, you’re amazing.”
Morgan kissed him, once more. “I’ll see you this evening.” Then, he quickly ducked into the bathroom to wash his hands and brush his teeth before dashing out the door.
James lay there for far longer than he probably should have, but he couldn’t help replaying everything that had occurred between last night and this morning. Maybe they could make this work. Maybe Morgan was finally ready to tell his family what they could do with their control tactics. James could hope, anyway. Pushing the covers the rest of the way off, he got up and took a quick shower before getting dressed and calling for a cab back to his hotel.
All told, he was only away from the flat for about five hours. After showering and changing, he picked up a couple bottles of Bollinger Rosé, Tristan’s favorite champagne as an engagement/good-luck-spending-a-week-with-your-parents gift, and then, he’d phoned Expectations—one of London’s largest gay sex stores—and paid extra to have a package delivered to the hotel. After the experience at the market the other day, the last thing he needed was The Mirror or one of the other rags to publish a photo of him shopping for restraints. It was the last fucking thing Morgan needed, too.
Once the package had been delivered, he’d grabbed everything and headed back to the flat. Morgan wouldn’t be home for hours, and James could get everything set up for that evening after they’d dropped Tris, her fiancé and their friends off at the hotel.
After making sure he was alone, James attached the restraints to the bed—the ankle cuffs and chains on each side of the bottom and threaded the chain for the wrist cuffs through the slats on the headboard. He tucked the wrist restraints under the pillows and the ankle cuffs under the bed. After finding where Morgan had left the broken bow, he propped it alongside the dresser and set the bag with the rest of his purchases next to it.
He checked his watch. Not even one-thirty, yet. He had hours to kill before Morgan got home. He glanced longingly at the bed. A nap sounded like a fantastic idea, but he knew if he lay down, he’d just end up tossing and turning and remembering what it was like to shoot his load down Morgan’s throat. He was probably better off being an actual adult and doing things like responding to the email that was likely piling up in the days since he’d last been arsed to check it.
His computer was still sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it next to Morgan’s music folder. While he waited for it to boot, he absently paged through the sheets before turning back to his inbox. Unsurprisingly, the first four messages were from his agent with potential tour dates for the following year, as well as suggestions and requests for future collaborations.
Sighing, he marked the messages as unread as a reminder to deal with them, later. He’d never felt less enthused about touring. Though a lot of that was probably due to the fact that he was where he’d always wanted to be—back with Morgan—working with him, watching him create...fucking him.
Closing his eyes, he could hear the needy little sounds the other man had made last night, feel the way he’d ground his leaking cock against James’ thigh, while his hand fell over and over, reddening Morgan’s flesh. James flexed his hand, wishing Morgan’s arse was under his palm, right now. Wishing he was buried balls deep in Morgan’s tight little hole.
James took a deep breath and pushed away the memories, forcing himself to focus on his inbox. Scrolling through the rest of the messages, he spotted a response to the audio file he’d sent to Crow Collective. They’d loved the changes Morgan had made, and better still, they wanted James to bring him to the recording studio and have him sit in with James as a session musician. Excitement and hope flared in his gut. Maybe this would be the thing that showed Morgan that music was where he belonged. James quickly responded to the message and let them know that he’d do everything he could to talk Morgan into coming with him.
He thought about forwarding the email to Morgan at work, but that was probably a bad idea. He’d wait and tell him about it when he got home. Shutting his laptop, he turned back to the folder and separated the half finished score from from the other music and studied it.
Unable to resist the temptation, he set the pages on his music stand and quickly tuned up his instrument. Drawing his bow across the strings, he gave himself to the melody Morgan had written. After playing through all of the existing composition, he went back to the beginning and tried the harmony line. He wished Morgan was here—he wanted to hear this piece with both parts. Hell, he wanted to hear the rest of it—wanted to know how it ended. He wanted to know how Morgan planned to finish it. Of course, that was true of so many things involving Morgan—he wanted to know how they all ended. The score. His career. Their relationship.
Unable to examine that thought too closely, he went back to the beginning of the melody line and played it, again—as if he might somehow find the answers hidden between the notes.