Page 39 of Stand By Me

They talked a bit about the upcoming gala and Mario admitted that the Smithsonian employees had moved past the excitement of the Washington celebrities at this point, but they weren't yet tired of it enough to complain too much.

"Thankfully, with the education bill finally passing, there's no need for another benefit for quite a while. Who knows, maybe we'll come to miss them, regardless of the fact that we've not been invited to any of the parties," he said. "The mounting excitement is nice, not to mention all the gossiping afterwards. If I believed everything I heard, I'd assume I have dirt on half the Hill."

Clay chuckled. "The highest currency in this town."

"The alleged hookup stories are usually the most interesting, if the least likely."

"Of course they are."

Once the food arrived, Mario proceeded to share some of the more exaggerated stories and watched Clay laugh out loud, with his head thrown back and a hand on his chest. Mario's gaze lingered there, imagining his own hand in its place, tracing the muscles through the fabric.

He glanced up to see Clay watching him with intensity that made Mario's breath catch. His heartbeat picked up again. Clay's pupils were wide, his eyes bright and focused on him and him alone.

Mario took another sip of his wine to help his suddenly dry throat, itching to climb into Clay's lap and kiss him until both of them couldn't breathe.

He put his glass away next to his empty plate, and turned just so.

Then it was a single brush of hand against hand, and suddenly, the world was on fire.

There were hands reaching out and seeking touch, arms that grasped, and pulled, and bodies that slid, easy like breathing, until Mario was straddling Clay's thighs and,oh, fuck, maybe he hadn't known about fire before. He hadn't known he could burn like this.

He hadn't known a lot of things.

And now there would be no escape from this feeling, no emergency exits, no detours. He would never be the same after this.

It had been inevitable, of course.

Everything from that first look in the museum and the quickening of his pulse over something that should have been buried over a decade ago but wasn't—everything led to this, right here.

Clay slipped a hand under Mario's shirt, pressing his palm against his back, and Mario gasped into the kiss and rolled his hips forward. Clay tightened his grip on Mario's hip as he closed his teeth over Mario's lower lip.

A gasp turned into a moan, because,God, yes, this, more of this.

They disentangled themselves for long enough to shed their shirts before pressing close again. At some point in the future, hopefully, Mario would get the chance to explore Clay's chest with his lips and tongue, but for now he needed another kiss like he needed air, even though the feel of Clay's skin against his already made him breathless.

He could barely think as Clay ran his hands over his back, finding all the sensitive spots like he'd already seen the map, already knew how to get there. Mario didn't know whether to lean back into the touch or press impossibly closer to Clay's chest as the fire burned brightly inside him.

"Bedroom?" Clay whispered against his neck at some point, and Mario nodded, clasping his hand on Clay's nape.

Yes. Yesyesyes.

He was about to reluctantly move away, but then Clay tightened his grip around him, whispered "Hang on," and stood up, supporting his weight as if it was nothing.

Mario circled his legs against Clay's hips, but that was all he was capable of doing, because he was now living through some impossible sex fantasy he hadn't even known he had.

Dating a bodyguard had more perks than just regularly seeing the guy in a suit, apparently.Jesus Christ.

"I want you to fuck me," Mario said right against Clay's ear, and the grip around him tightened even more.

Mario almost came right then and there at the thought of that leaving marks over his pale skin.

"Oh, I will," Clay promised him in a low voice.

And then they were on the bed, Clay covering him as they kissed again, pressed together even closer than before. When they pulled apart to lose the rest of the clothes, Mario didn't know where to look—at the definition of Clay's chest, his hard cock Mario couldn't wait to have inside him, or the round lines of Clay's ass when he turned to grab lube and a condom from the nightstand as they rearranged on the bed. Mario wanted to stare at the sight until it became carved in memory, but right now, what he wanted—needed—even more was Clay back over him, closer and closer still, until they were touching everywhere.

Until they were one.

Clay was there a second later, pressing him against the mattress once again and pulling him into another kiss. He pushed his thigh against Mario's cock, and Mario swore, gasping into Clay's mouth.

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