“Um…”

  They laughed awkwardly, and Blake’s gaze flicked to his phone.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to talk to her?” Damo asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. Yeah, maybe it was a good idea to slow down.

  “Let me just make sure that she’s not…” Grabbing his phone, Blake trailed off and tapped out another message before waiting.

  “She right?” Concern crept in around Damo’s jangling nerves.

  “Yeah. I…” Blake exhaled noisily, eyes on his screen. “She had a stroke a few years back. I had to go home to help. Dad didn’t know which way was up.”

  “Shit.”

  Damo wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Not that he was happy to hear it, but it was a weird relief somehow that Blake had to deal with something similar. Damo could probably tell him all about home—

  The calming warmth that filled him curdled in a flood of acid. No. He didn’t want to talk about home. Not tonight. Couldn’t he have this night just for himself?

  Still looking at his phone, Blake said, “Even though the stroke was relatively mild, they needed me.”

  For three years? “I get it.” Eventually—if there was more than tonight—he’d tell Blake how much.

  Breathing out, Blake’s shoulders loosened. “Okay. She’s not having any symptoms, and—” He smiled tenderly. “She says she hopes I’m having a good night out.”

  After putting his phone face down on the table again, Blake grimaced. “Really hot, huh? Nothing like a guy bringing you home and texting his mum.”

  All Damo could do was step toward him and press their lips together like his life depended on it.

  Chapter Six

  Blake tasted like beer and a trace of berry lippy, his stubble scratching. Damo’s heart thumped like the music from the club was blaring around them. Through them.

  He was kissing a bloke.

  He was kissing a bloke and he liked it.

  Shit, Damo loved it. Loved the strong, taller body shoving against him, both of them instantly hard in their tight jeans.

  Everything was sensation and taste, Blake gripping Damo’s face with one hand. The other grabbed Damo’s arse and pulled their bodies together on a mutual moan.

  The still air was full of their shared wet gasps, their lips searching. Needing to touch, Damo squeezed his hands between them, rubbing over the silky fabric covering Blake’s torso, his chest hair rough underneath the softness.

  Blake’s tongue slid into Damo’s mouth, stroking and leading the kiss. Damo leaned into him, loving the firm muscles against him. His head spun, and he gasped for a breath, words tumbling out.

  “I’ve never done that before. Never done any of this. Not with a bloke.”

  “I know.” Blake held his gaze, leaning back a fraction when Damo tried for another kiss. Slowly, slowly, Blake ran his palms down Damo’s arms. They were rough and warm. Strong and steady. “I’m on PrEP. You?”

  Damo shook his head. He knew what that was but had never thought about it since his mum had drummed always using condoms into his thick skull. “I’m careful, though.”

  Blake nodded. “I always use condoms for anal, and the risk of STI transmission during oral is low. For me, it’s worth it.”

  “Right. So, we can…use our mouths if we don’t do…” Damo swallowed hard. Was he really going to do any of this?

  Stroking Damo’s arms, Blake murmured, “We can take it nice and slow. Or not at all.” He smiled, and this one had a hint of smirk. “I’ll just have to jerk off when you leave.”

  Damo’s laugh was high and breathy. “Would you think about me?”

  Blake held Damo’s wrists, and he circled his thumbs softly, his gaze raking down Damo’s body and back up in a slow arc. “Oh, yeah.”

  When Damo licked his lips, Blake tilted his head, still watching closely. The smudged eyeliner made Blake’s stare even more intense. It was sexy as.

  Yes, sexy.

  Blake asked, “You like that idea? Me touching myself while I think about you?”

  “Heck, yeah.” He couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to. The water was surging, pushing up the tail of his surfboard, and he was ready to ride the wave.

  Blake dropped one of Damo’s wrists and reached down to rub himself through his tight jeans. Damo could see the thick bulge, and it sent every drop of blood in his body straight to his own dick. His mouth was dry as the desert.

  “This makes you hard,” Blake stated.

  “Obviously.” Damo was shivery all over, sweat gathering where Blake still held one wrist. He swayed forward, chasing more heat.

  Blake was still rubbing himself through his jeans, the outline of his cock clear as day. “Do you want me to touch you? Or maybe you want to watch me jerk off?”

  As surprisingly good as the last part sounded, Damo could only beg, “Please touch me.” He spread his hands over Blake’s chest. “So hot,” he mumbled, finding Blake’s nipples through the sheer fabric with his thumbs.

  Blake moaned. “Glad you like it.” He ran his hands up under Damo’s shirt, but couldn’t get past his ribs.

  Damo pulled back enough to undo the top few buttons and rip the shirt over his head. He met Blake’s grin with his own, and while he was at it, he unzipped his jeans and peeled them off with his briefs, hopping on one foot and then the other, cursing the tight fabric.

  Then he was buck naked.

  He’d been naked with plenty of guys before in locker rooms and whatever, but not like this. Not when he was so hard he thought he might explode just from the way Blake eyed his straining cock, his chest rising and falling. The last bit of lippy was smeared in the corner of Blake’s mouth from their kisses.

  Damo wanted to push Blake to the soft green rug and rut against him until he came, which would probably be in about five seconds. Another drop of fluid leaked from the tip of Damo’s cock, his foreskin lowered and balls heavy and tight. His dick was long and rigid under Blake’s heavy-lidded, smoky gaze.

  Slowly, Blake lowered a fingertip and brushed the head of Damo’s shaft, capturing the liquid. Damo whimpered at the touch, his hips thrusting into the air as Blake lifted the finger to his full lips and sucked it clean with a wet, gentle noise that sounded like a kiss.

  “Please,” Damo whispered. He had to know. Had to cross this bridge before he shattered into a million pieces.

  Blake’s smile was sly as he caressed Damo’s wavy hair, wrapping a curl around his finger. Then he unzipped his own trousers. He wasn’t wearing anything under them, and Damo groaned as Blake’s dick sprang free from a trimmed thatch of dark hair.

  Damo reached out eagerly, running his fingers through the coarse hair, Blake’s cock thick and hot in his hands, the red, shiny head peeking out from the foreskin.

  “Is this okay?” Damo asked. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Mmm. Sure you do.” Blake rolled his hips as Damo hesitantly stroked him. “You know what feels good.”

  Damo wrapped his hand around the shaft more tightly, spitting on it to ease the way. The angle was different, but it was true he’d wanked about a billion times. Blake throbbed in his hand, their foreheads close as they watched Damo stroke him.

  Blake walked him backwards, and Damo plopped down on the armchair, breathing shallowly. Looming over him, Blake leaned on the armrests and licked at Damo’s lips, teasing until they were taking turns kissing down each other’s throats, tongues exploring. Damo gripped Blake’s corded forearms, the scratch of hair and shift of muscle heating his blood.

  With a gulp of air, Blake broke away and stood straight. He peeled off his jeans and dropped them to the floor. Then he teased his nipples through the sheer black shirt, making Damo’s cock sing.

  Damo could just make out the tattooed birds on Blake’s left ribcage. Below the hem of the skin-tight shirt, Blake’s dick jutted up flushed and thick. He sank down, grabbing a throw pillow from the sofa to shove under his knees.

  Oh, holy shit.

  Apparently, Damo had said it out loud, because Blake chuckled, rubbing Damo’s knees with his palms and urging him to sit closer to the edge.

  Damo slouched, his legs spread wide with Blake between them. The armchair was soft like a hug, and he was both comfy and as wound tight as he’d ever been in his entire freaking life.

  He had a dusting of pale hair on his chest and limbs, and he kept his darker pubes neat. He was extremely glad of that considering he was on display, Blake still slowly caressing his knees while he looked his fill.

  Then Blake leaned forward and circled Damo’s bellybutton with a wet, textured swipe of his tongue, and Damo’s hips bucked, a hand flying to Blake’s head. Blake laughed against his fevered skin with a warm puff and licked again.

  It felt good, but it was also knowing where that tongue and mouth were surely going to end up that strung Damo tighter than a bow. He’d been blown plenty of times and always loved it, but this was different.

  He could feel the scrape of stubble on his inner thighs, and he curled his toes helplessly on the wood floor as Blake finally licked up and down his shaft.

  Watching him under his lined lids, Blake sucked Damo into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. Damo tried to keep still, biting his lip and crying out anyway. “Gonna blow already.”

  Blake pulled off, kissing the wet head and rubbing it over his mouth like the dirtiest lipstick ever. “You ever get fingered? Or do it yourself?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Blake snagged his jeans and pulled out a flat little package of lube from a pocket. He ripped it open and squeezed the cool gel onto Damo’s middle finger. “Show me.”

  Damo squirmed. “I’ll do it wrong.”

  “There’s no wrong way.” Blake smiled gently, patient kindness shining in his hazel eyes that were so damn pretty.

  So, Damo shoved his finger in his arse, slouching even lower so he could tilt his hips. A few girls had put in a fingertip and rubbed, and he’d experimented sometimes. It usually felt good, but with Blake watching, Damo was awkward and hesitant.

  He pulled out his finger. “I’d really rather you go back to what you were doing.”

  Laughing, Blake went up on his knees and kissed Damo sweetly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  Damo realized the salty-musk taste was from his own dick being in Blake’s mouth, and his balls tingled. He was still hard, the edge taken off from the clumsy fingering, and Jesus, he wanted to come.

  Blake apparently read his mind, dipping his head and sucking Damo again, fast and slow, hard and soft, his tongue pushing. His lips looked swollen now, and they felt amazing as he ducked lower to suck Damo’s balls. Wet slurps echoed in the stillness.

  Head rolling side-to-side, Damo’s eyes flickered open and shut. His legs were splayed as wide as they could go, Blake’s strong hands holding his thighs. Blake lapped at his balls, then across his taint, which felt incredible.

  “Oh my gaaawd,” Damo whined.

  “I’m going to use my finger, okay?”

  “Huh? Yeah. Whatever, I just need…” His body was tense and quivering, and he clutched at Blake’s shoulders. He gasped as Blake’s lubed finger entered him, Blake sucking his cock again as he probed.

  He crooked his finger, rubbing against the perfect spot, and Damo groaned. “Don’t. Stop.”

  Immediately, Blake lifted his head, Damo’s shaft bobbing free of his mouth. His finger was frozen inside Damo’s clenching arse. Forehead creased, Blake asked, “Did you say stop?”

  “No! Opposite! Don’t fucking stop, because I have definitely been doing it wrong and that feels incredible.”

  Grinning, Blake crooked his finger again, sending sparks everywhere, Damo’s whole groin lit up like a Christmas tree. “Are you ready to come?” he asked.

  “Been ready since I saw you in that shirt.”

  Finger still working its magic, Blake swallowed Damo completely, sucking hard and fast. The orgasm unleashed, and Damo closed his eyes, his whole body shaking as he spilled down Blake’s throat.

  It was wet and slurpy and completely amazing, and Damo was absolutely wrecked, his back arching and every nerve firing.

  He’d just been blown by a dude.

  A dude who licked him clean and mouthed his spent balls. Who kissed his inner thighs, stubble rasping perfectly as he caressed Damo’s knees. Blake was bigger and stronger—yet he was kneeling and nuzzling. It made Damo feel protected in a way he’d never expected.

  He tried to catch his breath as Blake ran his palm up his chest, resting his hand there like an anchor, his fingers brushing the purple cord at Damo’s throat. He started working himself with his other hand.

  “Can I see?” Damo asked hoarsely.

  Blake stopped jacking himself mid-motion, eyes dark and intense, licking his parted lips. Pushing off Damo’s sternum, he stood and leaned over him. One knee on the wide, padded armrest, he braced a hand on the back of the chair beside Damo’s head.

  A few strands of Damo’s hair caught under Blake’s palm, but he didn’t mind the tug. He kind of liked it? Even if he didn’t, he wasn’t capable of saying a bloody thing—not with Blake’s massive dick blotting out any other thoughts like an eclipse he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

  It was in his face—purplish and veiny and clearly ready to blow. And Blake was so hard for him, panting and caressing his own balls, which hung low and heavy. Damo was on another wave, adrenaline surging as the water lifted him, excitement zipping to the tips of his toes.

  Blake stroked himself, playing with his foreskin, the head of his cock leaking and shiny. “You like watching me?” he asked.

  Damo nodded, his hair tugging and sending shivers over his scalp. He’d never been this close to another bloke’s dick, and definitely not one that was hard.

  That it was hard for him was also blowing his mind.

  Yeah, he liked it heaps, but he wanted more. He’d already been sucked off by a bloke, so why not? He was going all in, riding through the wave’s barrel even if he ended up getting smoked on the reef.

  After a gulp of air, he jerked forward and sucked on the tip of Blake’s cock. Blake shouted something that didn’t really sound like a word, his hips stuttering and dick pushing farther into Damo’s mouth. Damo licked like he would an icy pole, though this sure as hell wasn’t a sweet fruit flavor.

  No, Blake was hot and throbbing in Damo’s mouth, a little salty and sweaty. It made him think of the locker room back in school, and instead of grossing him out, he moaned around the shaft stretching his lips. It was male and exciting in a way that felt wrong but bloody fucking right.

  It felt…

  The only word that came to mind was naughty, because he really was a complete boofhead. Like he was breaking the rules in the best way even though he knew there was nothing wrong with it.

  He was probably crap at blow jobs, but he sucked and slurped, slumped down in the chair. Blake quivered above him, rigid, letting Damo do as much as he wanted. He only moved to pet Damo’s head, murmuring, “That’s it. That’s so good.”

  It was music to Damo’s ears, and he sucked harder, wanting to earn more praise, wanting to give Blake what he needed. Running his hands up Blake’s muscular thighs, hair tickled his palms.

  Blake’s arse was solid, and Damo squeezed the flesh he’d admired on the beach. Spit dribbled down his chin. His mouth was so full. Full of cock, and it was like when the winning piece of Tetris was finally slotted into place. He moaned loudly.

  “Oh! I’m—” Blake shuddered, his hips stuttering again as he exploded.

  Coughing, Damo tried to swallow. Blake pulled out, splattering Damo’s lips and chin with his warm spunk. Taking himself in hand, Blake milked his cock, mouth open on soft gasps, the last drops hitting Damo’s cheeks.

  It was unbelievably dirty.

  Damo loved it.

  Reaching up, he pushed a few drops of jizz into his mouth, licking his lips at the salty, earthy-bitter taste. Blake groaned and bent to take Damo’s head in his hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Then he licked up the drops from Damo’s face, his tongue rough and hot.

  Damo almost complained that he wanted to try more of it, but he didn’t need to because Blake kissed him with his mouth tasting of jizz.

  Damo gasped. Forget dirty—this was bloody filthy, and his spent balls twitched.

  When Blake straightened up, Damo chased after him for more kisses. Instead, he slipped off the edge of the armchair, landing on his arse with his legs spread wide, Blake’s limp cock slapping him in the forehead as he went.

  Laughing, he muttered, “Graceful, hey?”

  Blake was laughing too, but he stepped back and hooked his hands under Damo’s arms, lifting him to his feet. It didn’t seem to take much effort, and Damo really liked that Blake was so strong. He liked it even more when Blake wrapped his arms around him in a hug that went on and on.

  They stood there naked except for the see-through shirt, which was silky and cool against Damo’s chest. He leaned in, hugging Blake back and dropping his head on his shoulder. He’d done it. After all his secret little thoughts, he’d gotten off with a bloke. A bloke named Blake. Blake the bloke.

  He burst out laughing and slapped a hand over his mouth. He lifted his head to meet Blake’s puzzled gaze.

  Blake smiled tentatively. “What?”

  “It’s nothing bad! I was just thinking about how I finally hooked up with a bloke, and that your name is Blake. Bloke. Blake.” He laughed again. “It’s funny for some reason. Probably because I’m a total freak.”

  Blake grinned. “I like that about you.” He brushed back Damo’s hair in a slow, steady pattern that made Damo want to melt. “And did you like hooking up with a bloke named Blake?”

  He was going to joke—make some cheeky remark about how he supposed it was okay. But all he could say was, “Yes.”

  Blake kissed his cheek softly and pulled Damo into a tight hug again. “I’ll take care of you.” As he caressed Damo’s hair, the promise felt like it was about more than sex.

  Chest tightening with a swell of want so powerful he was afraid his knees would give out, Damo hung on. Nothing else mattered right then—not what people might think, not the mess of home and his fucked-up life.