I smile, even if he can’t see it. “I’ll have enough to look at in my bedroom, won’t I?”
“Anything you want to see,” he agrees.
We’re quiet for a minute or two, moving toward the last few pictures, though I don't know how much either of us takes in when our minds are elsewhere now. Or I suppose we’re thinking about a lot of the same things Adrian has captured, matted, and framed, but no matter how many jokes we make, none of it involves our friends this time.
“I’m not shy, but I am nervous,” I say.
“I’m glad.”
“Why?”
When he remains quiet again, it’s just like when I asked him about his home, except that he doesn’t walk away from me this time. Instead, he glances over his shoulder—the side where I’m not blocking his view—and decides something. I trust him. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. And it’s why I don’t hesitate when he murmurs a command.
“Follow me.”
We escape the crowd without the crowd caring that we’re gone, and Darren leads me down a small hallway behind the walled-off section. As I’d guessed, one door is marked for staff only, even if I’ve heard Adrian is working alone for now, and then there are two restrooms, one unlocked when Darren reaches for the handle. Practiced at this, he shuts the door, flips the lock, and pins me against the wall next to it, his hands at my waist.
I barely have time to moan before his tongue is in my mouth, welcome and warm, and just as I’d had to remind myself when he kissed me outside of Trailhead, any comparison I could make will cut me deep. This is Darren, and he feels and smells and tastes like someone new, and I let myself have this for the few seconds it lasts. Then, when he stops to look at me and the world slows down, I stifle a laugh and shake my head.
“You said you’d never drag me to the keg room, but you thought this would be okay?”
“It’s practically new,” Darren says.
“Oh, well, as long as we can be the first.”
“We’re not fucking, though.”
“No?”
“No. You asked why I’m glad you’re nervous, and it’s because it’s a reminder that even after I had my hand on your dick out there, we can’t fuck in a bathroom, practically new or not. We’re not gonna fuck behind the building or in your car either. Hell, tonight, we don’t have to fuck at all. This is new for you, and I’m not gonna treat you like someone who can’t handle it, because I’m not that fucking stupid. But Iamgonna make sure this is funfor both of us, and that specific fun is happening much further away from a bunch of photography-loving partygoers.”
I do what I can to ignore the ache he’s alleviating with each roll of his hips, the movement nearly unnoticeable except for the way I’m desperate for it. “So, you just brought me here to kiss me and promise me my own comfortable bed?”
“No, I brought you here to suck your dick and make you come.”
His hands have already moved to my belt, and he’s deft about unfastening that and anything else in his way. He doesn’t stop to ask whether I want this, but I don’t expect him to when we both know the question would frustrate me. We’re friends who have agreed to play this game, and even without having discussed the rules, I know the only one in place is that we’ll set our own limits. Darren will do anything he wants—and he’ll do it well—unless I speak up to say no.
And I don’t.
Won’t.
Because we lack the luxury of time, Darren drops to his knees without fanfare, and I already know he can show off a hundred other skills on a hundred other nights. He only pushes my pants and boxers out of the way as much as he needs to, and he doesn’t pause to study how turned on I am, nor do I pause to worry about how wet my tip must be by now. Instead, I gasp as he slides his mouth over me quickly and then pulls back with his tongue pressed to the underside of my shaft. One of his hands holds my shirt out of his way while the other fondles my sac, his mouth leaving me slick and sloppy when his head bobs forward andback again.
And again. And again.
I’m sure Darren has done this far too many times to count, and it’s probably rare for him to be anything less than enthusiastic about it, but I’m still stunned when he slows to look up at me with such unabashed satisfaction. I think I’d tell him that, but he’s gone again, too busy memorizing every ridge and vein and the slight curve that only one other person has ever loved. It’s another comparison I can’t allow myself to make, so I bite my tongue and let his take me apart.
The blood rushing through my body chases memories that chase back, but when he relaxes enough for me to hit the back of his throat, the side of my fist knocks against the bathroom wall and my other hand clasps his shoulder. Darren hums around me in response, and then with his mouth still full and saliva visible everywhere, he looks up again to find me staring. My face is warm, and my lips are parted until I have to trap the whimper threatening to give so much away, but I think my restraint is admirable. It’s been so damn long since I’ve been here, but he wants more from me, and he isn't anything less than blunt when he makes his plea.
Darren backs up and teases my slit without breaking eye contact, and then he smiles. “You taste so good already, but I want it all. Let go of my shoulder, hold the back of my head, and make me swallow every drop.”
I make a helpless noise—the same one I’d barely contained before, I think—but Darren sounds nothing like her, and I needtostop, and I need him to keep going. The years have let me forget the intensity of this, and I want badly to remember his talented mouth simply because it's his and nobody else's. His hand falls to his lap just long enough to press the heel to the front of his pants, and his growl makes me shiver.
Eventually, I do as he’s asked though, my fingers curling into his hair and making him growl a second time. He takes me deep again, sucking and stroking while my breathing becomes more ragged, and for a few moments I regret letting him start something that has to end so soon. The feeling doesn’t last when I realize it would be over quickly either way, and my grip on his head tightens as I mumble a string of things both carnal and contrite.
Holding my shirt against my stomach means he can feel when my muscles start to flutter, and it’s sexy as hell to know he won't let me finish anyplace but where he can swallow. And then I spill into his mouth, and I close my eyes for every familiar, brand-new second of it, the sight of him something I’ll imagine later. We'd never been loud during our discreet indiscretion, but there's an abrupt shift to silence that has me close to begging for his voice as I ride the last waves of my orgasm. He must know, because he speaks softly while my body trembles under his touch, and I have a few more seconds before he eases away from me and gets back to his feet.
He looks like he wants to kiss me again, but maybe he doesn’t know how I’d feel about that, and there’s no time for a conversation about it now. I begin to put myself back together, and heturns toward the sink to splash some water on his face until he looks like someone who wasn’t just on his knees for a friend.
“What about you?” I ask, more hushed than I need to be.
“Later,” he says, throwing the paper towel away and adjusting himself about as well as he can. “We’ve been in here for too long already, and if Beau notices, he’s gonna do that math impressively quickly.”
I narrow my eyes for a split second, but then I nod and reach for the lock. “I’ll duck out first and go for more wine before I get lost in the crowd.”
“And I’ll find you there.”