25. Brooks

CHAPTER 25

brOOKS

It was torture to tear myself away from Tate’s perfect body, but I hadn’t had a chance to order us dinner and if I got his clothes off, we wouldn’t be eating for hours. Tate whimpered, chasing after me when I pulled my mouth away, and it took me scrubbing a hand down my face to recover enough dignity to even propose the idea.

“I need to feed you first,” I said, reaching into my pants and adjusting my erection behind my waistband.

Tate licked his lips like a desperate man. “I could eat.”

Groaning, I wagged a finger at him.

“That’s dessert, Tate,” I warned. “I didn’t have time to order in so I was thinking we could go around the block and get some sandwiches at least.”

“Is this a new tactic to make me cry? Because I’m really close.”

I chuckled. “Dessert.”

“I can’t convince you otherwise?”

“It’ll be quick,” I promised, “but I won’t be, so this is better. ”

“You’re cruel,” Tate complained, shoving his hand into his pants to fix the placement of his cock.

“I never said I wasn’t.”

I already had my wallet and keys in my pockets, so I pushed Tate back out the front door. He cursed me under his breath and stabbed at the elevator button, glaring at me over his shoulder. He was adorable when he was angry and it only made me want to fuck him more. The elevator arrived, doors sliding open, and I shouldered him into the small, enclosed space, boxing him into the corner with both of my hands on either side of his face and my body pressed hot against his.

I dropped my face against his neck, licking the sweat and soap from his skin. Working my way up to his jaw, I nipped at the angular bone before licking my way to his ear and sinking my teeth into the lobe. Tate slid his arms around my waist and pulled our bodies flush, moaning as I worked his skin with my mouth.

“I didn’t think you were a sadist,” he murmured, arching his neck to give me more room.

“This hurts me too.”

As if to check, he reached down and pressed his palm against my erection, smashed up hard and pointing toward my stomach.

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors slid open with a silent glide.

“Maybe we’ll both cry tonight,” he whispered, sneaking out from behind me and stepping into the lobby like he hadn’t been seconds away from going onto his knees and choking on my cock.

In a twist of roles, I followed obediently after him, content to watch the way his ass jiggled in his jeans as he went through the revolving door and onto the sidewalk. It was a bold statement, but I hadn’t cried since Tyler left me, and it wasn’t an action I planned to repeat. Though if there was anyone capable of bringing those feelings out in me, it would definitely be the man standing in front of me.

“Turn left,” I said, taking his hand and heading toward the little deli around the corner.

Tate squeezed my hand and adjusted his cock with the other one.

“You have to stop touching yourself in public,” I warned. “You’ll get us both arrested for indecency.”

“You shouldn’t have sent me out with a hard-on,” he countered.

“I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

He hummed out an amused sound. “Are you planning to fuck me right into dehydration?”

“Someday,” I whispered, reaching the deli on the corner and pushing the door open.

The thought of fucking Tate until he didn’t have any tears left to cry was like an electric shock that rippled from my spine and out, radiating through every bone and nerve and cell in my body. I’d never needed anything, but suddenly I very much needed that. Needed him covered in sweat and tears and cum, absolutely spent and boneless, nothing coming out of him except for air. Tate brushed in front of me, rubbing his ass against my cock, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he tipped his head back and pressed his temple against mine.

“What’s good here?” he asked.

“Everything.”

There was a decent-sized line, which I assumed had to do with the fact it was still considered the end of the workday. Plenty of single bachelors grabbing sandwiches to take back to their apartments to eat alone. We got our order in, Tate getting a roast beef and cheddar to my pastrami on rye. The man working told us it would be about twenty minutes, and the misery started to roll off Tate in waves at the prospect of a delay so long. I didn’t want to admit it, but I found the timeline far out of reach myself, and so I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.

“Come on,” I whispered into his ear, hauling him to the back of the little deli and into the bathroom. It wasn’t anything of note, barely more than a janitor’s closet with a toilet and a rickety slide lock, but it would have to do.

“Oh, thank God,” he said as soon as I shoved the lock into the latch. He undid his jeans and shoved them to his ankles at the same time I used my forearm to turn him and push him against the door. His chest hit the doorjamb hard and he arched his back, giving me the ass that I was so ready to be inside.

I fussed with my fly, getting my zipper down enough so I could pull my own erection free. I was hard and hot, precum beading against the tip of my dick, and I smeared it around with my fingers, knowing it wasn’t going to be enough lube to make it go in easy.

“I want you so bad, Brooks,” Tate whined, reaching between his legs and starting to stroke his cock. “Please fuck me.”

I licked my palm, then I spit into my hand a couple of times, using my fingers to get into him. It was tight and rough, but the sounds Tate made were far from resistant. There was no way around it. This was going to hurt us both, but I didn’t think it was something either of us was willing to walk away from. I’d have to sit down later and examine my growing obsession with him because I’d rarely shied away from sex in any venue, but this moment was far from chasing pleasure. This was an aching and desperate kind of need, like if I didn’t get inside of Tate immediately, I’d combust.

Pulling my fingers out of his ass, I spit as much saliva into my palm as I had, then I slicked my shaft and notched my slippery head against his hole. Getting into his ass was tighter than tight, and Tate cried out from the pain of it before I’d even gotten my head inside.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, bracing myself with one hand against his hip.

“Don’t you dare.”

I fucked another inch into him, only to be met with another keening wail from his throat. It was heavenly, but it wasn’t going to do. With one quick motion, I brought my hand to his mouth and forced the rest of my length inside of him. Tate’s lips spread against my palm, and I did my best to smother the sounds that fell from his mouth.

“You have to be quiet,” I warned, tightening my fingers across his face and my hand on his hip. I fucked him with hard and short snaps of my hips, thrusting the air out of his lungs with every pump. His breath burned against the side of my finger and his asshole seared the length of my shaft. Every part of his skin was perfect and burning. His tongue swirled in mindless circles against my palm between the way he whined and cried, the quick jerk of his hand around his cock fighting against the punishing pace I had set from behind him.

Even with my hand over his mouth, Tate was loud and writhing, and it didn’t take long for spurts of cum to spill from his cock and paint the bathroom door. He gasped against my palm, lips and teeth working like mad until he moved my fingers around so they were inside of his mouth, pressed flat against his tongue.

“You’re perfect,” I whispered, sliding my fingers down toward the back of his throat.

Tate gagged quietly, turning his face so I could see the tears slicking down his cheeks. His face was flushed, lashes clumped together, and spit tracked down his chin from the way I’d been holding his mouth.

He looked like a cock slut.

A whore.

He looked like the man of my dreams.

“Tate, I…” I bit back the confession for what had to be the hundredth time, but not for lack of trying.

The force of my own orgasm was insurmountable, stealing my words, my breath, even my vision. I buried myself inside of him, and Tate sputtered around my fingers, my vision going black around the edges. Cum geysered out of my cock and I shoved him against the door, dropping my forehead against his shoulder with a grunt. My entire body pulsed in time with my orgasm, more cum than I’d ever felt before leaking out of me and filling Tate up. He whimpered, reaching around and grabbing my thigh, keeping me inside of him until our breathing returned to something that felt close to normal. My fingers were still in his mouth, and it was with great reluctance that I slid them free. His chest heaved and he thumped his forehead against the door, licking his dry lips and closing his eyes.

I tucked my spent but still hard dick back into my pants, then kissed his shoulder, the back of his neck, the spot behind his ear. He still had his dick in his hand, and he stroked himself slowly with spread and loose fingers like the touch was too much.

“Please take me home,” he finally said softly, turning around and pointing his erection at me.

There was a need inside of him that I’d only ever found in myself, and there was no way I’d deny him anything ever again. Whatever Tate asked me for, he could have. Money, houses, sex—I’d give him whatever he wanted.

“Get dressed,” I said, voice hoarse.

While he tucked his dick back into his pants, I yanked a few paper towels out of the dispenser and cleaned up the mess he’d left against the wall and tossed the soiled paper into the trash can. Tate unlocked the door and waited for me to turn off the lights, then we went and got our sandwiches, which had been ready for lord knew how long. If the man behind the counter had a judgmental look for us, I didn’t see it. I snatched the brown bag off the top of the counter and told him goodnight, practically falling over Tate to get out onto the sidewalk.

The walk back to my building took an eternity, and as soon as we were back in the elevator, Tate started in on the fly of his pants. He shoved his hand behind the waistband of his boxer briefs and fisted his cock, slamming his head against the back wall of the elevator.

“How am I still hard, Brooks?” he whispered, both of us looking down at the swollen organ jutting out from between his legs. He reached over with his free hand, palming my cock, which was also hard and imprisoned. “How are you still hard? When will it be enough?”

“I don’t have an answer for that. ”

The elevator reached my floor and we both scrambled off, more like desperate and lovesick teenagers than grown men. When we got inside, I dropped our dinner on the side table, then ripped off my shirt at the same time I toed off my shoes. Tate followed my lead, making quick work of his clothes before I’d even managed to get my socks off.

“Where?” he asked, stroking his cock and taking a step away from me. “And preferably somewhere with lube this time.”

I made a mental note to take extra care of his asshole when we were done for the night, but it was early still and if the erection between my legs was any sign of things to come, the end was still very far off.

“Go upstairs, Tate.” I licked the corner of my mouth, staring at the sticky mess of cum already coating his shaft. “Go upstairs and get on your hands and knees. I want to take you from behind.”