Up in Smoke (Hotshots 4)

Damn. This had been a fine night. He had his usual post-show buzz after only a couple of songs and the promise of that gig. And with the promise of some pay on the horizon, he picked up a four-pack of some decent beer at a local microbrewery he passed on his way back to the rural road that led to Brandt’s place. Despite the bar having live music and a rowdy tourist crowd, he wasn’t tempted to linger.

Strangely, he was eager to tell Brandt his news and maybe share a beer if he was awake. Hoping Jewel at least was asleep, he let himself into the house quietly through the side door near the kitchen and set the beer on the counter. No baby in her swing, but a passed-out Brandt was on the couch, snoozing away. A quick check revealed the baby sleeping in her own room, a veritable miracle.

When he returned to the living area, his breath caught as he looked Brandt over. His hair was dry now, and even scruffy and asleep, he was the hottest thing Shane had ever seen. He’d lost his shirt at some point, probably to baby puke, and his chiseled chest with its light dusting of hair looked like something off a book cover in the soft light. That want from earlier was back, double strength.

There was a blanket on one of the chairs, so Shane spread it over Brandt, returning the tucking-in favor. A low, sweet spot pinched in his gut as he straightened the covers.

“Hey.” Brandt’s eyes blinked open. “What time is it?”

“Not even ten, old man.” Shane laughed as he crouched next to the couch. “Brought you a cold one, but maybe you should try to sleep through?”

“Hell, nah. I’m awake now.” But Brandt made no move to sit up, and Shane too was rooted to the spot. His hand reached for Brandt’s hair and brushed it off his neck, need finally winning out.

Silky. Slippery. Like the slippery slope that had him leaning closer until the warm huff of Brandt’s breath brushed across cheek. Brandt turned into the contact, and there they were face-to-face. Easy as that. And he could no more resist kissing Brandt than he could turn off the music in his own head. He didn’t know how to experience the world without song, and he didn’t know how to shrug free of this hold Brandt had on him. Didn’t know if he wanted to either.

Brandt’s cheeks were scratchy, but his lips were soft and warm, welcoming him with a sigh like Brandt had been holding his breath, waiting for him to make a move. And he sure was enthusiastic in kissing back, active but not overbearing. The kiss felt like they were dancing, with Brandt content to let Shane lead, even as he put his own style on each move.

He tasted sweet, like falling into a steaming cup of cocoa on a frigid day, and his hands were warm and strong as he pulled Shane closer, cover falling to the floor. Shane could spend the rest of his life caught up in this kiss, absorbing each of Brandt’s rumbly groans, dying a little when Brandt sucked on his tongue, and fluttering away on surging energy with each pass of their lips.

Shane’s knees dug into the rug, and his aching cock brushed against couch, but still all he could do was kiss Brandt over and over. Lips and tongue and teeth and grasping, needy hands.

“C’mere.” Brandt tugged on his shoulders, trying to pull him onto the couch. And Shane was powerless to do anything other than give Brandt what they both needed.

Chapter Eleven

“C’mere,” Brandt repeated. The angle was shit for hauling Shane up to the couch, but luckily, Shane didn’t make him ask a third time. Rising up, he let Brandt tug him right back down, this time onto the couch. Onto him.

“Oof.” Brandt made a noise that wasn’t quite human as he urged Shane to settle on top of him. It was like his body had had a missing Shane-shaped piece for days now, and the second Shane stretched out over him, everything clicked back into place, world that much brighter and clearer.

“Good?” Shane balanced one arm above Brandt, keeping some of his weight off. Brandt wasn’t having any of that though, and pulled him the rest of the way down, until they were as pressed together as two people could get.

“Fuck, yes.” Brandt stretched up for another kiss, but Shane wasn’t quite as pliant as before, and his back was tense under Brandt’s hand.

“Think we might break the couch?”

“Fuck the couch.” Couches were replaceable. This moment wasn’t. He wasn’t kidding himself that this was anything other than another ill-advised collision for them, but hell if he wasn’t going to make the most of something this good while he had it. “Kiss me.”