Page 29 of Dangerous Pursuit
Xander takes one sharp turn after another. I'm pretty sure if he left me to my own devices right now, it'd take me two hours to find my way back. "Relax. You're with me."
And before I can make any further comments, he abruptly stops, grabs my shoulder to pull me around and walks me through a large, half-open tunnel, our footsteps echoing off naked cement walls until we emerge on the other side, stopping a few feet away from the white lines painted on the grass, marking the sidelines of a semi-lit football field.
"So this is me," Xander says as he walks forward, slower now, lifting his arms by his sides and doing a three-sixty.
My eyes dart in every direction, taking in the surrounding stands, making sure we're alone before I follow. "Xander? Are you sureyou'resupposed to be here?"
He snorts. "Please. Like anyone would throw me out of here."
Xander, in fact, looks at home. "So, what position do you play?" I ask, trying and failing to think of any. I'm not much of a football guy. "Wait. You're not the mascot, are you?"
He swats my chest with the back of his hand. "Linebacker. Though now that you mention it, yeah, somewhat of a mascot, too. Truth is, I'm not very good." He shrugs,unabashed. "But they keep me on the team for my soft skills. Something about being able to lift the team spirit and all that."
I stop, fold my arms over my chest, and lift an eyebrow. It takes Xander a few more steps to notice. When he finally does, he turns to me and asks, "What?"
"Nothing. I just can't decide if that's the truth or if you're playing again. Could be either."
He shoots me a look I can't decipher, but it's more than obvious something wicked swirls in those eyes. "Interesting…" he says.
"Dare I ask?"
He puts his hands inside his back pockets, digs his heel into the grass, which I'm pretty sure he's not supposed to do, before taking a couple of painfully slow steps in my direction. "Would you say I'm an enigma after all, then?" He keeps advancing towards me, and even though the reflectors currently illuminating the field are few and far between, I don't miss how his cheeks change color.
I won't mess it up for him this time. Whatever weird movie fantasy he's been trying to play out, I'll play along. I backtrack, equally slowly, so that there's a constant gap of a few feet between us. There's no wall behind me though, not for what seems like miles, so when the look on Xander's face morphs from playful to lustful, I simply stop, in the middle of nowhere, and let Xander catch up to me, closing the gap as he bumps his chest against mine.
That seems to be good enough for Xander, as he brings his mouth to my ear and produces a shiver-inducing tone. "Would you say I'm that hard?"
I swallow as his exhale caresses my earlobe, the hot air contrasting with the chilly wind dancing across the open field. God, he's really something. "I have no way of knowing that. Do I?"
He slowly backs his head and looks me in the eye, just like I knew he would, makes theatrics of tracing his tongue along his lower lip and moves his body closer, pushing in against mine. There is, in fact, something interesting against my upper thigh, something growing more solid with each passing second, something that'd normally capture all of my attention. Yet somehow, my attention's elsewhere.
On those lips, thin and red and glistening from when he licked them. My gaze bounces between his eyes and those lips. It probably shouldn't. I should keep it simple, and kissing him would make things even messier than they already are. But then, he sucks in the corner, biting on his lower lip while he breathes through his nose and looks God knows where, his eyes almost closed, and I shove all thoseshouldswhere they belong and grab the back of his head, threading my fingers through the soft strands of his hair and bringing his face closer. And closer. And closer still.
Xander sucks in a breath and I catch myself at the last moment, halting him, and myself in no-man's-land, our mouths just an inch apart. "May I?"
He growls. "You're ruining the mome—"
He doesn't get to finish as my mouth crashes against his with calculated precision. He grabs the back of my neck with both hands, pulling me closer, his lips parting, tongue pushing between mine, demanding entrance. I grant it, putting my free hand on his lower back, tilting my head and sucking on his tongue, and biting, and massaging it with mine.
And now I feel it all. His pecks flexing and relaxing against me. His hard cock rubbing against my pelvis, seeking mine, craving friction. His taste, mint and coffee mixing in a combination that shouldn't taste good, yet it does. And the smell, the smell of his hair that I couldn't pinpoint if I tried. All I know is, I like it.
Damn, he's a good kisser.
His tongue penetrates my mouth, fast and rough, deep, but nottoodeep as he runs his fingers down my back, scratching, digging his nails through my t-shirt and into my flesh, hard enough for me to feel pain, but not hard enough to really hurt.
He's aggressive. I didn't see that coming. I'd never have thought I'd like it. But there are a lot of things I seem to have missed, including the fact that we're somehow walking again, Xander pushing me backward into the vastness of empty space.
"Mmmm, wait," I mumble into his mouth, forcing us to stand still, breaking the kiss, even though I don't really want to.
"For what?" he half-says, half-gasps as he pushes off me, his hands flying to pull the bottom of his shirt from behind his waistband. "All I do is wait. It's tiring, frankly. Besides," he continues, while his fingers make their way down his shirt, expertly popping the buttons open one by one, "Weren't youjustmoaning about howdramaticallyold you are, at thirty? You've no time to waste, yeah?"
It's not his words, it's the urgency with which he speaks them, the eagerness, the conviction that makes me think—hope—that maybe he's for real. Maybe he really wants it, after all. He barely has the chance to pull his shirt open before I'm on him again, kissing him with everything I've got, pushing the shirt down and off his shoulders. Xander goes for my t-shirt at thesame time, our hands tangling, getting in each other's way, as if it's a timed competition and the winner takes it all.
Things don't get easier when we go for each other's pants at the same time, unzipping, pushing and pulling, hard cocks breaking free, making it impossible to push down the underwear at the first try. Clothes and shoes start flying, landing somewhere around us, discarded and forgotten as our tongues keep dancing somewhere between our connected mouths.
"Oh, fuck yeah," Xander growls the second our naked bodies meet for the first time.
And that growl? I want more of it. And Iamgoing to take it.
