Truth & Tenderness (8 page)

Jim blinked in surprise. Then his face bloomed into a smile that went straight to Griffin’s cock. He wrapped his arms around Griffin, slotted his thigh between his legs, and ground their bodies together.

“Fucking, food, then fucking,” he whispered, enunciating each word and letting the last one linger.

Griffin’s entire body flared with heat. “You gonna make it upstairs?” he asked, innocent in tone but wickedly punctuated by his hands sliding under Jim’s windbreaker and down to grab his ass. “Or….”

Jim didn’t answer. He was already freeing one hand to pull at Griffin’s khakis, tugging them down over his hips. Griffin laughed in response, pulling at Jim’s jacket.

Griffin pulled away as they started to get tangled in mutual want and stubborn clothing. He kept his gaze locked on Jim as he reached for the buttons of his shirt.

“I get a show too?” Jim asked, his voice cracking as he pulled off his own jacket and let it fall to the floor.

Mouth watering, Griffin nodded. He let the white shirt slide down his body and pool at his feet. Then he undid the buttons on his pants as he walked backward toward the staircase separating the foyer from the living room.

“You get whatever you want,” Griffin whispered as his pants slid down his legs. He kicked them aside, then leaned back against the banister.

“Y
OU
ARE
the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jim said, sliding out of his shoes and unbuckling his belt with one hand before he stalked toward Griffin. Naked Griffin, in just his glasses and a smile that Jim wanted to capture in a bottle and have forever. “Sit down.”

“My ass is going to get cold.” Griffin pouted, but he moved and sat down slowly on the bottom step.

Jim would have taken pity on him, but then Griffin leaned back, opening his legs slowly, ever the wicked tease. “I’ll make sure to warm it up later,” Jim teased, kicking off his jeans.

“Is that a spanking reference, because no—until you convince me otherwise.”

Snickering, Jim dropped to his knees, barely even feeling the hard floor underneath him. This wasn’t going to be a long-term thing, but right now he felt far too frisky to adjourn elsewhere. He pressed his hands against Griffin’s chest, hair tickling his palms as he stroked downward to his thighs; it felt like he was mapping his fiancé out, remembering every hard curve of muscle and how they fit together.

Griffin blinked lazily behind his glasses. “Good news—my ass is warming up,” Griffin said, matter-of-fact as he took his own cock in hand, a slow stroke from top to bottom that made Jim’s mouth water. “If you feel like swapping tonight, I might be interested. Maybe if you’re nice I’ll let you do it twice.”

“Maybe I’ll tie you to the bed and do it whenever I feel like it,” Jim countered. The delighted expression on Griffin’s face was painfully arousing.

“Is that what you want?” Another stroke and Griffin bit his lip, moving his hips restlessly.

“Yeah, right after you fuck me,” Jim whispered, standing over Griffin’s beautiful body, just as desperate as his love.

Griffin stopped touching himself, licking lips as he leaned forward. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he whispered, laying his hands on Jim’s hips. He just needed to move a bit more, open his mouth and take Jim down his throat, but he didn’t. The moment of anticipation built until Jim could see they were both shaking with it.

Jim slid his hands into Griffin’s hair before straddling his lap. He dropped down, already grinding as their bodies touched for the first time in far too long. They wrapped around each other, Jim hungry for Griffin’s mouth and his lover scrabbling his hands over Jim’s skin.

It was always good, but this was… anxiety and guilt and love so deep it hurt Jim to taste Griffin’s mouth.

T
HEY
MADE
out in a furious tangle of hands and legs and mouth until Griffin said “ow” one too many times. Jim stood up and pulled him into the living room; Griffin tripped over discarded clothes and Jim’s bag, barely made it to the open space in front of the fire. He went down hard on his ass but didn’t have time to complain because Jim was already on top of him, frantically rubbing their cocks together.

Maybe he would come this way, just to take the edge off, but any hopes of completion went out the window when Jim backed off and started kissing down Griffin’s body. Griffin pulled his glasses off, pushed them to safety under the recliner, then held on for dear life.

Jim reached his cock and bit the insides of Griffin’s thighs until Griffin kicked—because no, no teasing, he hated it unless it was the kind where he loved it and Jim held him down by the hips. But then Jim decided it was enough—time to lick his cock in long, slow strokes, moaning as he tasted Griffin with absolute abandon. He moved his fingers under Griffin’s knees and calves, spreading him out to trail kisses lower and never in one place long enough.

Griffin tried to breathe.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, I miss you all the time,” Jim whispered, pulling back from each bite and kiss to blow on the sting. Then he moved again, before Griffin could respond, to take him deep inside his mouth.

Griffin couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop pushing up into Jim’s mouth, couldn’t stop the relentless need pulsing in his body. It was almost enough—so close—but Jim pulled away again, sitting straight up to leave Griffin panting and moaning on the floor.

“What…,” Griffin panted, but Jim was moving—he grabbed the condoms off the table, threw one at Griffin, then went back for the lube.

Shaking, Griffin tore open the package. Everything was blurry, but he could hear the sounds coming from Jim, and he knew what they meant.

Intimately.

“Ugh, no, let me help,” Griffin whined, sliding the condom on—finally, God—and sitting up as he grabbed frantically for Jim.

“I got it,” Jim said, laughing a little, but Griffin didn’t stop being handsy as hell.

“I love it, I love your body, God.” Griffin knew he was talking nonsense, knew there wasn’t much sexy about a guy with a condom on his dick in the middle of the living room, but he just didn’t want to stop touching Jim at this moment. Or any moment, ever.

“I got it,” Jim said again, pushing him down on his back, then climbing over him.

Griffin moaned when he realized what Jim was doing. “Oh God, is it Christmas?”

“That’s so….” Jim’s breath caught, and Griffin bit his lip in hopes the pain would stop him moving—or coming—as Jim shifted Griffin into position. With one hand, he held Griffin down, pushing against his chest. With the other, he guided Griffin inside, slowly, with heavy breaths.

Eyes fluttering closed, Griffin ground his teeth through the familiar and exquisite pleasure of sliding into Jim.

Griffin grabbed Jim’s hips, pressing his fingers into his skin. He braced his feet against the hardwood floor, gritting his teeth as Jim slid the last few inches and came to a rest seated in Griffin’s lap.

There was a pause, Jim shifting and breathing until he was comfortable, Griffin rigid and sighing underneath him, forcing his eyes open so he could look up at Jim.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Jim murmured, so perfect in the firelight that Griffin felt a little dizzy. He knew what was coming next, knew the way Jim’s body moved up and then back down with slow intent.

S
OMEWHERE
IN
the moment, a tiny brush of guilt reared its ugly head. Jim clenched, squeezed on Griffin’s dick as he held it deep inside, then raised his hips—locked down on the pressure he knew he would feel—and began a punishing pace of riding up, pushing down, choking on the pleasure/pain of the intense burn. He closed his eyes because looking down at Griffin would be his undoing.

Faster and harder, sweat rolling from his skin, Jim slid his grip to rest against Griffin’s neck, cupping it in his hands as he moved his lower body in a frantic rhythm. “Come on,” he panted. “Come on.”

“Jim, slow down,” Griffin choked out, but Jim didn’t even break the wild need to finish—for Griffin to finish, for Jim to feel grounded in his lover’s arms.

There was no finesse to his movements, just an animalistic sense of urgent need, a violent push toward completion.

T
HE
VISELIKE
clasp of Jim’s body on his dick, the pressure, the longing he’d felt for so long—Griffin couldn’t hold back much longer. He grabbed Jim’s wrists, holding on for dear life, sweat dripping off their bodies as Griffin slid against the rug.

“Please,” he panted, imploring with his pleas and scrabbling hands. “Please, please—love you.”

“Show me,” Jim answered, pressing his forehead to Griffin’s, breathing hard into his mouth. “Come inside me.”

All Griffin could do in response was open his mouth in a silent cry, arching his body against Jim’s. The orgasm racked his body for long shuddering moments before he collapsed against the rug.

His eyes closed as Jim kept moving, kissing Griffin’s face with frantic damp movements of his lips. “Love you,” he kept saying, rocking over Griffin, trying to find his own completion.

Griffin reached between them, closing his hand over Jim’s cock, the way eased by sweat and Griffin’s fervent need to tip Jim over the edge.

Jim lasted a few more seconds, but Griffin knew how to pull an orgasm from this man—knew how to twist and tug and bite his shoulder, how to rock up his hips and read that perfect moment when Jim lost it.

Wildly, roughly, completely.

They lay there, wet and shaking on the rug, like they had run a marathon.

And won.

“Hell of a homecoming,” Jim whispered into Griffin’s ear. He’d tried to move, but Griffin held him in place despite the fact that he was heavy and lax and probably hurting.

No. Griffin wouldn’t let him go.

“I missed you.”

“It was two days.”

Griffin nudged him and shifted until they were looking each other in the eye. “It’s been longer than that.”

Jim swallowed. “Yeah.”

E
VENTUALLY
THEY
showered—together. They dressed in clean pajamas, threw everything discarded on the floor downstairs down the laundry chute, and ate a romantic meal for two by candlelight in the dining room.

He pushed their chairs closer together and they held hands because Griffin refused to let Jim get farther than a foot away and Jim couldn’t deny him.

“I, uh, got a new project,” Griffin said eventually.

Jim girded himself for the news—the schedule in Los Angeles, the continuation of a schedule that made them both unhappy. “Oh. Okay. Where are you filming?” he asked, neutral.

“It’s a play. We’re going to do it here in New York.”

Looking up, Jim met Griffin’s pleased expression with one of his own. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s something Shane wrote a few years ago that they never produced. Bennett said I could pick anything, and that was the one I liked the most.” Griffin’s excitement began to pick up. He squeezed Jim’s hand and gestured with the other. “These two friends pretend to be dating so their possessive exes will leave them alone. It’s sort of a comedy of manners but with a bit of melancholy underneath, because of course one of the men has always had a thing for his friend. Eventually the man goes back to his ex, and the other one decides they can’t be friends anymore. Shane is going to do some rewrites and….” Griffin’s voice peaked into shy delight. “I’m going to produce it.”

Jim pushed his chair back just in time for Griffin to slide into his arms. “Baby, that’s great. Congratulations.” And it was great. Because Griffin would be on the East Coast with Jim—the small voice reminding him about Tracey and Tripp and the whole fucking mess be damned—and they would get married.

It would be fine.

“It’s a little scary, but I mean, I can have a home base, you know? I’ll work in the city when we start staging, but the rest of the time I’ll be home. Mostly.” Griffin scooted even closer so he could put his arms around Jim’s shoulders, his face morphing from happy to nervous in rapid succession. “That’s okay, right? That I’m here all the time?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? Our first date was a week long—I’m completely used to you being underfoot.”

“Jackass.”

I
N
BED
a few hours later, Griffin lay in Jim’s arms, the little spoon to Jim’s big one. It was dark and quiet, and Griffin had run out of time. He wouldn’t be a chicken. He would just say—

“Do you want kids?”

Jim’s voice rang out so suddenly that Griffin almost rolled off the bed in shock. He caught his breath, then attempted to roll over, but Jim kept him pinned, his back to Jim’s chest. “What?”

“The way you are with Sadie—I’m not blind. I know you want to have kids.”

Griffin began to shake because… oh God. He needed to ask his question, but right now it was buried under an avalanche of other things, other elephants sitting quiet watch in the room. “I….” Griffin gulped in air, courage. “I do. I mean, I love Sadie. I love our godchildren, but sometimes I think—I think I’d like them to be mine.”

The silence rested over them then, Griffin’s heart beating so wildly he felt dizzy. Jim’s arms tight around him kept him grounded and held him prisoner at once.

Griffin felt trapped in the moment, in the dark, so he took a breath, said a little prayer to his mother, and whispered, “Are you sure you want to get married?”

He inhaled, lungs burning until Jim kissed the back of his neck tenderly. “So sure I want to marry you.”

“Okay.” Griffin pinched himself, just to make sure this was real.

“We should set a date.”

“Jim, that’s not why I asked,” Griffin murmured.

“I know.” Jim rubbed Griffin’s chest gently, rolling over until Griffin was almost on his stomach. Another moment that felt like before, when they were fucking, like Jim was protecting him. “I want to set a date because I love you. Because it wasn’t a big elaborate proposal—I just opened my mouth and boom, there it was. You make me want things I never imagined I could….”