7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Kieran had been braced for disappointment.

He'd not exactly expected Jon to tell him no—there'd been too many things pointing to the fact that he was going to say yes— but he'd still experienced a yawning pit of what he felt like had to be inevitable disappointment as they'd stood at his front door and he'd asked the question.

But Jon had kissed him instead.

Had gathered what had to be an enormous amount of courage and just leaned in, like he kissed men all the time.

Whoever he was kissing, he must have had some practice, because he was really good at it, his lips firm and confident against Kieran's, his body angled towards him, his fingers gripping his T-shirt like he didn't want to let go of him.

But Jon's skill wasn't why Kieran wanted to lose himself in the kiss from the very first moment their lips touched.

No—it was that undeniable chemistry that had hooked him from the beginning, from when he'd looked across his bar and seen Jon sitting there. He'd been caught, even though he'd tried to fight it. Tried to tell himself that it wasn't going anywhere.

But now, Jon was here , in his apartment, watching as Kieran grabbed them beers from his almost entirely empty fridge.

"If you couldn't tell, I don't spend a lot of time here," Kieran said as he popped the lids off, setting one in front of Jon, lounging against his kitchen counter, his long, lean body drawing his eye irresistibly.

Jon raised an eyebrow. "And you think I spend a lot of time in my place?"

"Well. No. Probably not." Kieran hated how self-conscious he suddenly felt. Of course Jon didn't care that this place felt like a stranger's house. Jon had been to the bar, which was his real home, where everything that mattered lived.

"I think we both work too much," Jon said, sounding amused by this. "Maybe we should try to work a little less."

"Always a good goal," Kieran said. And it was. He did try. But why would he want to be alone in his place when he could be at the bar, with his friends and his employees? Surrounded by the pleasant background noise of his successful business? Maybe if he had someone to share that alone time with . . .

He was still trying to figure out how to broach this subject when Jon set his beer down on the counter with a decisive click.

"You wanna know my goal? I keep wondering how much of this beer I need to drink before I can come up with a reason to kiss you again."

Kieran laughed so hard he nearly snorted his beer. "You know, you could just do it." Jon was the head coach of the Condors—so confident and in-control most of the time—but he looked downright sheepish.

"I already did it, it's your turn now," Jon said, and he was grinning now too. Probably at how ridiculous they both were, standing here, drinking beers they couldn't care less about, when they could be kissing again.

Kieran didn't need another invitation. He set down his beer and walked right over to where Jon was standing. Cupped his face in his hands and kissed him the way he'd wanted to on his front stoop.

Their tongues brushed together as Kieran pushed him up against the counter and they devoured each other. Jon's hands were gentle but insistent as they wrapped around his waist and he pulled him in closer and then closer still.

If Jon was having any uncertainty or second thoughts about kissing another guy, Kieran wasn't aware of it. He'd been hoping to keep some distance because Jon was definitely not used to having a hard dick rub against his own, but the moment he reeled Kieran in close enough to feel it, he groaned in the back of his throat.

That was the turn-on of the fucking century.

If Kieran hadn't been sure this kiss was heading into bedroom territory fast, that would have sealed it.

But one of them was going to have to keep an even head—clearly it wasn't going to Jon, who was kissing Kieran with the kind of all-in abandonment that made him hard as a rock and aching in his jeans. So he pulled back, both them breathing hard.

"Shit." Jon's exclamation was unsteady. His pupils dilated. His fingers tightening around Kieran's waist.

Kieran stroked the back of his neck, the surprisingly soft skin there. "Yeah?"

"Does it make me uncool to admit I've thought about that a lot?"

Kieran chuckled. "Only if it makes me equally uncool to confess that yeah, I thought about it too. More than I should admit to."

"You tried to hit on me the first night we met. Not so much of a surprise."

"Maybe I wasn't hitting on you." Kieran tried to play it coy.

"No, you were. And you should've. I just . . .I got stuck worrying that maybe . . .well, that I was misreading myself and then worried I was misreading you, and I didn't want to do that. Not when you'd become a friend." Jon's honesty always blew Kieran away, but that confession made him even more sure that the patience he'd employed, even as hard as it had been, had been the right tactic.

"You had to figure some stuff out. It was okay you weren't sure, right away."

Honesty blazed in Jon's eyes. It was even more beautiful than the honey brown color that had entranced Kieran from the first moment he'd seen it. "In case you didn't realize it, I really like you. As a friend. As more."

Kieran had a feeling he should probably be embarrassed at how fast he kissed Jon after that. Or how they stumbled backwards from the kitchen to the living room, Kieran taking the couch and Jon not even hesitating for a moment before he climbed right on top of him.

"This is hot," Jon gasped, one kiss sliding into the next, minutes lost to the scorching give and take of their mouths.

Kieran had given up on trying to keep his cock away from Jon. He was hard. Jon was definitely hard, and God , had he been hiding that under all those staid, Sunday School khaki pants?

He was gonna go out of his mind if he didn't get to see, if he didn't get to touch.

But he wasn't going to be the one to push them further. Instead, he kept to what Jon had established, hands sliding over clothes, exploring each other with long, lingering touches as their mouths fused together.

Then Jon slid a hand right up the front of Kieran's shirt, the sudden feel of skin-to-skin electrifying him, a full-body shiver engulfing him.

"Okay?" Jon asked, pulling back a fraction. His chest was rising and falling and Kieran pressed his palm to his back. Then decided what the heck and slipped it underneath the fabric. Feeling Jon shiver, too.

"You touching me? Always okay."

"I thought this would feel . . .I don't know . . . weirder . Unnatural, maybe? And yeah, it's new, but it's really, really good."

"For me, too," Kieran agreed. "But if this is all you wanted to do, that would be fine."

Jon leaned back a fraction more. "Really? If we made out like this for even ten more minutes, I think I'd just combust. Wouldn't be able to help it."

"Oh, there would definitely be combusting happening." Kieran decided he might as well be as honest as Jon was being. "It's been awhile for me. And you're . . .uh . . .pushing pretty much every one of my buttons."

"Can I push them some more?"

"God, please."

Jon pushed his T-shirt up, Kieran helping him the rest of the way, and then before he was even done discarding it, Jon's fingers were at the button of his jeans and he was opening them, like he did this kind of thing all the time.

"Still okay?"

Now that Kieran was looking, okay, his fingers were trembling. But that could be nerves. Or arousal. Or both.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah."

Jon grinned, sharp in the dim lighting of the room. He shoved his jeans down and stroked him through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. Kieran gasped, suddenly and acutely aware that maybe he should have least believed this could happen and worn something a little nicer than one of his old pairs of gray boxer briefs. Sure, he'd imagined it. He'd fantasized about it. But he hadn't ever assumed that it actually would.

"You gotta tell me what you like," Jon murmured as he touched him more, stroking and rubbing in a way that had Kieran's eyes nearly rolling back in his head. "I wanna make you feel amazing."

"You are. You definitely are." Kieran moaned a little as he found a particularly good spot, stroking him with more confidence than he'd expected.

"Just thinking of how I'd like to be touched," Jon said.

That made Kieran realize—he could be doing this too. 'Cause he'd definitely thought a lot about touching Jon, and now he could. Free and clear, no worries and no hesitation.

"God, yeah," Jon echoed as Kieran got his jeans partially down and even, bonus , his boxer briefs, finally revealing his gorgeous cock. Long and hard and thick; Kieran's mouth watered at the thought of it. But for now, this would be enough. He began to give him nice slow strokes as Jon tucked his fingers inside his underwear and mirrored his movements.

"Kiss me," Kieran panted.

They leaned together as close as their moving hands would allow and he tumbled right over the edge as their tongues slid together.

"Goddamn." Jon's breathing was harsh as he came down. " Goddamn ."

"Good?"

Jon looked him right in the eye. Kieran had a feeling that what he was about to confess might be groundbreaking. "I've never had sex that good," he said.

Yep. Pretty goddamn groundbreaking.

"It was really good for me too." Which was true. Was it the best sex he'd ever had? Well, it was certainly up there and considering they'd only given each other awkward handjobs on his sofa, that was saying something.

"Yeah?" Jon's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Anytime you want to do it again, I'm here for it," Kieran said, keeping his tone light and his gaze serious.

"How about . . .very, very soon?" Jon asked, his eyes lighting up. He eased back and Kieran could see him looking about for something to clean them up with.

"No arguments from me."

Kieran reached over and grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table, handed it to Jon and then took a few more for himself.

"Hard to believe that was your first gay sex experience. You took to it like a duck to water," Kieran teased as they relaxed back on the couch. And Jon was relaxed. Kieran could tell, and he hoped it wasn't just from the orgasm.

He knew, from firsthand experience, how hard it was to fight and fight against something you knew was right, to endlessly debate with yourself if this was really what you wanted. Until you got it, and the fight ended in a whimper, not a yell.

In this case, a moan instead of a yell.

"You really think so?"

"I was there. Being the recipient of your first gay orgasm, I think I'm the living expert on the situation, now."

"Good. And you're gonna stay that way," Jon declared. He scooted a little closer. Glanced up at Kieran. "If you're okay with that."

"Very okay."

Jon smiled.