Page 155 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“And sex.”
“Fine. Words and sex.”
“Dirty words?”
“Shush. If it means commuting, then I’ll commute. If it means giving up my job, I’ll give it up. But I’ll have to travel because the demand for quants won’t be high in this area. You want to stay here. I get that. In an ideal world, I’d like us working in London where opportunities are better for both of us, but I want to be wherever you are.”
“But not like a stalker.”
“Exactly like a stalker, though without the creepy part. And the rope.”
Jonty laughed. “No more talking.”
Devan didn’t think they’d finished, but he’d let it go. He just had to be patient.
Jonty slid his hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around their cocks. “Ooh look what I found.” Jonty gripped tightly, then moved his hand up a fraction, squeezed and did it again.
“What, apart from the obvious?” Devan clenched his arse cheeks, shuddering as precome pearled at his tip and overflowed.
“Another way to drive you wild.”
Devan slipped his hands inside Jonty’s robe and cupped his backside. “Only 1,497 to go.”
“What? You’re short-changing me. The average Brit has sex a total of 5,778 times before he dies and obviously you’d have to at least double that for a gay guy. So, there should be…”
“10,059 to go, minus the few you’ve already managed.”
“I am so turned on. You’re a human computer.”
Devan shuddered again as Jonty moved his hand a little higher and squeezed.
“Being driven wild doesn’t always lead to sex, so maybe that figure needs to be tripled,” Jonty murmured.
“30,177.”
“If I’d died yesterday, I’d have missed so much. The beauty of maths on the lips of a sexy guy, for a start.” Jonty squeezed again, brought a finger to where his hand clutched their cocks and swiped up precome from both of them. He brought his finger to his mouth, licked, then sucked.
“We not sharing?”
Jonty smiled, dropped his hand and when he brought it to Devan’s mouth, he gave him three fingers to suck.
“I forgot to say thank you,” Jonty whispered and ran his thumb over the head of Devan’s cock.
“What…did I do?” Devan was having trouble thinking straight.
“Saved my life.”
Devan looked into his eyes and what he saw there wasn’t just heat and lust, but something else, something deeper, something that made the breath catch in his throat and his heart race.
Jonty leaned in until his mouth was inches from Devan’s. “Thank you for making me happy.”
Devan scarcely had time to breathe in before their lips met. No gentle kiss, but a hard, forceful one, greedy and desperate. Jonty ate at him, consumed him, rocked and ground against him until Devan forgot about breathing. He clutched tighter at Jonty’s backside, his fingers deep in the seam of his arse. He found the lube pushed, then forced, into his hand and laughed into the mouth plastered against his, laughed again when Jonty squealed as Devan hauled his robe up and squirted cold lubricant down his crease.
Jonty’s groan when Devan eased a finger inside him dragged a groan from Devan too. When one finger became two, the sounds they were both making grew louder. Then Jonty was a writhing mess on his lap, gasping into Devan’s mouth, his hands curled between their chests as Devan finger-fucked him.
“Oh God,” Jonty groaned. “How come you know whereEldoradois?”
“Because I have anEldoradoof my own.”
