Page 23 of Beck

He finally settled on an animal programme and stretched out, resting his head on one cushion and his feet under another. His eyes were heavy as he watched, his blinks lasting longer until all he could see was Kole’s face on the back of his eyelids. He focused on the little quirks he’d seen—the small upwards curve to the corner of his lips when he was placating someone, or the small chicken pox scar on his chin. His mind focused slightly lower, remembering every detail he could. The way he walked. The way he occasionally broke out a genuine smile that almost reached his eyes. The way he spoke. His hand gestures. His scent. The way he treated others. So many things about him were sexy, and most had nothing to do with his body.

Having thought that, his mind veered in a different direction. Beck had held him against him, knew what he felt like, and he liked what he’d seen. He slid his hands to his jeans, unfastening the button and zip before slipping his hand inside and cupping his cock. When he was on his own, he could let his thoughts go wild. He could be true to himself.

Instead of taking control of Kole, he would hand that control over, knowing Kole would never hurt him. Knowing he would respect his wishes and not take what wasn’t his to give. Beck would happily kneel for him, staring up at him, waiting for his next order. And as Kole fed him his cock, making him choke on it, Beck’s climax would barrel down on him, unexpected pleasure coursing through him. And instead of being upset, Kole would cup his cheeks and smile, saying he was proud of him. At that point, Kole would take him to the bed, turn him onto his hands and knees and slam home, making Beck feel every inch.

Beck pressed his head back into the cushion and came in his clothes, the pleasure too extreme to be denied. His chest heaved as he tried to breathe enough air, and his body felt so heavy, but also light, as if he’d reached a milestone or something.

Opening his eyes, he turned the TV off and pushed himself off the sofa. The warm water of the shower spray was welcome, but it reminded him of how it was in foster care. Depending on the people he stayed with depended if they had hot water to shower in or not. It wasn’t always available for one of two reasons. One because the foster parents didn’t want the bills to be too high, or two because they couldn’t afford to heat the water. After all, heating the water cost money just like feeding kids did, and occasionally he hadn’t got that either.

He luxuriated in the warmth, knowing he would never have to go through that again, but eventually, he got sleepy again. Shutting off the water, he dusted a towel over himself andclimbed into bed. Shoving a hand beneath his head, he stared at the dark ceiling.

He wasn’t that child anymore. He had food to eat, water to drink, hot water to shower in, a bed to sleep in—another thing that wasn’t a given in a foster home—and a roof over his head that no one could take away from him. Well, they could, but he could easily find somewhere else.

He huffed at his thoughts and flipped over to thinking about Kole again. His fantasies were one thing, but he wouldn’t be able to offer Kole his submission. He had been through too much to hand it over without a care in the world. He would continue to pretend to be a dominant person as it was how he’d survived the years after… Stopping on that path, he refocused again. What could he do with Kole to make their night almost perfect? Should he order them dinner? He’d have to do something because if he planned to take his time with him, they’d need sustenance. Could he tire Kole out? He seemed like the type of guy who would tire easily, mainly when Beck held him on the edge long enough. He was looking forward to seeing if he could do that.

Heaving a sigh, he watched the lights dance across the ceiling whenever a vehicle passed by. As worn out as he had been after his orgasm, he was wide awake again. Would he ever be able to sleep a full night? Probably not because his nightmares still echoed around his brain, ready to appear when he least expected it to.

Reaching for his phone, he put on some soft music to dull the thoughts and closed his eyes and mouth to reduce the sensory input, leaving him with just the music, the scents and the feel of the bedcovers, something that helped to tether him to the present instead of letting him fall back into the past.

As he lost himself in those remaining senses, his mind traitorously whispered, “But what if Kole is different?”

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Chapter 8

Kole

Kole was a jittery mess all day on Saturday. So much so that he locked himself away in his studio—he still couldn’t believe he had one—and daydreamed about how things might go. He refused to let his thoughts wander into “bad” territory because he didn’t want his fears to take hold and stop him from enjoying what Beck was offering. He wasn’t stupid. Beck wouldn’t want a relationship with him, but while he was offering satisfaction, who was Kole to say no?

Ethan asked him several times if he was okay when he’d checked on him, and all he could say was yes. He wasn’t going to say anything about their “date” because it wasn’t a date. It was a mutually beneficial agreement.

And Kole couldn’t fucking wait.

He had an itch that needed scratching and Beck was the one to do it.

By the time he finished work, his hands shook, and he could barely hold his pen. He said goodbye to whoever he saw on his way out but didn’t actively seek anyone out. He wouldn’t have been able to start a decent conversation even if he had.

Home was a small one-bedroomed flat that he would probably never decorate. It still had the white walls and ceilings, the wood effect countertops, cupboards and flooring and a plain white bathroom suite, but it worked for him. He didn’t need anything fancy. Having no clue where his future would take him, he’dfinally decided, upon taking the chance to move to London, that he would take things as they came and not worry unduly about things he might not be able to change. It was making life easier for him—at least at the moment.

Checking his phone, he saw he had a little over two hours before Beck would be there to pick him up. Kole froze, his hand staying mid-air as he reached for a mug, and the air caught in his lungs. He hadn’t even asked why Beck was picking him up. He’d expected them to just spend the night with each other. Were they going somewhere? Or was Beck just picking him up to take him to his house?

Kole’s hand resumed its movements, bringing down his favourite mug. Trying not to think about what that evening might entail was hard, but he blanked his mind as much as he could, watching the colours of the tea mix with the water, changing it until he was happy with it, and then he added a splash of milk. Stirring his brew, he lifted it to his lips and blew across the top, sending steam into his face. He inhaled and closed his eyes for a brief moment and then headed for the sofa. Time. He just needed a few minutes to get his head levelled, and then he could get himself ready.

Letting his mind drift as he finished his tea, he finally relaxed enough for his muscles to tell him exactly how tense he had been. The last dregs of tea slid down his throat, and he stood, deciding on a semi-long soak in the bath. He had time. Putting the mug in the kitchen to clean up later, he headed down the hallway, pausing when a knock sounded. Frowning, he backtracked and looked through the peephole. Eyes widening, he stared at the Beck-shaped person on the other side of the door.

Inhaling, he opened the door. Beck had his hands braced on either side of the door, his head lowered, but his eyes on Kole as soon as the door revealed him. Kole’s breath caught.

“I’m sorry,” Beck said. His nostrils flared as he inhaled audibly. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He stepped forward, slamming into Kole with the force of a tornado, his arms sliding around him the only thing keeping Kole from falling to the floor. But Kole didn’t care because Beck’s mouth was on his, and it was heaven. His eyelids fluttered closed, and he opened for Beck’s questing tongue. The taste hit him like a drug, a hint of mint as if he’d chewed one before he arrived, a tang of tomato, possibly from his dinner, and everything that was Beck. Then, when Beck groaned into his mouth, Kole forgot everything but holding on as Beck ravished him. His fingers gripped the back of Beck’s shirt, and he just felt.

Distantly, there was a thud, and then they were moving. Kole stumbled, but Beck kept him upright and then went further by grabbing the backs of his thighs and lifting him. Kole yelped into Beck’s mouth and wrapped his legs around his waist automatically, his arms tightening around his back and neck. And then they were kissing again, Beck carrying him forward.

“Ah!” Kole shouted when his stomach dropped as he fell backwards. Luckily, he bounced on the sofa cushions and was covered by a warm body seconds later.

“Fuck, Kole. You’re addictive,” Beck groaned before joining their lips again.

Blood rushed to Kole’s cock, and he thrust upwards, grinding against Beck and feeling the answering hardness press back against him. No doubt crept in, no shiver of unease, and no lifting of the hairs on his arms—well, unless he counted the good lifting of the hairs. Because what Beck was doing with his mouth and hands was pure physical goodness.

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