Well-Tailored (Thorne and Dash 4)

Marc followed him inside and closed the door. He was immediately impressed by what he saw. The apartment was small, but it had high ceilings and plenty of windows, which made it feel larger. The living area and kitchen were painted pale gray with cranberry and cornflower accents. The space was clean, with hardly any clutter. There were a few bookshelves in the living room, lined with books and stacks of magazines, but there was not a knickknack in sight. The only pictures were abstract art, a beautiful watercolor of Jupiter, and pictures of what must have been his grandfather’s tailor shop.

“What are you doing?” Darius asked.

Had he expected Marc to run for the bed? “Looking around. I love this place.”

“Great. I’ll thank my designer. Now come on.”

He headed toward a room that must be his bedroom. But Marc wasn’t ready to follow him. “You designed this place yourself. I can tell because it fits you perfectly.”

Darius snorted. “Fine, I did, but why are we out here? There’s not a mattress in sight, and you distinctly said—”

“Now who’s the one who can’t wait?”

Darius scowled until Marc sauntered past him. When he reached the bedroom doorway, he froze. “It’s just like your shop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Clean and simple out there. Chaos in here.”

“Fuck you.” Darius stomped past him and shoved clothes, books, and sketchpads off his bed, letting them form a pile on the floor. “I know where everything is. I have a system.”

“Sure you do.”

Darius tackled Marc from behind, sending him face-first onto the mattress and making sure to pin him before he could scramble off.

“Are we really going to talk about the state of my apartment?” he asked as he ground his cock into the seam of Marc’s ass.

“That depends,” Marc said.

“On what?”

Darius placed his hands on top of Marc’s, holding him down as he kept working his hips.

“What you offer as an alternative.”

“I’m offering to hold you down right here and own your arse. And once you’ve gotten your breath back, I’ll do it again until you can’t move.”

Marc bit his lip to hold in a moan.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Marc fucked the mattress, desperate for friction. “You really think…you can…outlast me?”

“I know I can.”

“You want…to make…a bet?”

“You’d be a fool to. I’ve already got you panting, and we haven’t even taken our clothes off.”

Marc flipped them then, surprising Darius, whose eyes went wide. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Darius didn’t back down. “If I win this bet, you have to arrive early every day for a week and blow me before work, but you don’t get to come until the end of the day.”

Marc considered the suggestion. The thought of working all day horny as fuck wasn’t so bad. He basically did that already. Starting every day making Darius beg for this mouth, knowing Darius was getting out of bed early because he needed Marc was…a fucking terrible idea. “And if I win?”

“You won’t, but if you did, I’d let you run the shop your way for a day.”

“So you get a week of blowjobs and tormenting me, and I get one day?”

“It’s not like you’d spend more than a few minutes on me each morning. I’m talking about a whole day from opening to close.”

Marc shook his head. “It’s a shame your stamina is so poor, or I’d suck you for a lot longer than a few minutes.”

“Bitch.”

“You love it.”

“Two days,” Darius suggested.

“Three.”

“Two and a half.”

“And have you lord it over me from lunch until close? No fucking way. Three days.”

“Fine. You won’t win anyway. Now get off me and strip.”

Marc laughed as he stood. They rarely undressed fully at the shop, and even if they did, it was a hurried affair, jerking their clothes off as fast as they could so they could get on with the main event.

Tonight there was no rush to head home. They were already there, not that Marc was crazy enough to think he was staying the night, but Darius didn’t look to be in a rush, and Marc sure as hell wasn’t. He captured Darius’s gaze as he started to slowly undo the buttons on his shirt. As he released each one, he slid his fingers along the soft fabric to the next, pulling the sides of the shirt apart to expose a little more skin.

Darius unfastened his pants and pulled his cock out, and Marc paused to watch him work himself with slow, careful strokes.

“Get on with it,” Darius growled.

Marc undid the last button. He let his shirt fall open, but he didn’t remove it. Instead, he pinched his nipples while letting his head drop back.

“Goddamn,” Darius muttered.

When he looked at Darius again, he had his teeth sunk into his lower lip. Marc smirked as he let his shirt drop from his shoulders, shimmying until it caught at his wrists.

“Don’t move,” Darius said. Marc stood still as Darius moved off the bed and sank to his knees in front of Marc.