“No. Okay? No.” Jamie two-hand shoved Marcus back a step. “He didn’t kiss me. I ran out of the bar after you. I left and went straight to your building, Deez Nuts. I’ve been going out of my fucking mind, you don’t even answer your phone and now you think you can question me? I was…I was…”
Marcus felt his face split into a grin. “Worried about me?”
“Don’t you dare smile.”
Enough warmth spread in his chest, he was worried his heart might drown, but at least it would go happy. “Jamie Prince was worried about me.”
Jamie strode past him toward the door, already taking out his keys. “You should be worried I’m going to clock you with that bottle.”
Marcus floated behind him up the path. “Where are you going?”
“Inside.” Once Jamie got the door open, he paused. Without turning around he cursed under his breath. Head falling forward, he asked, “Are you coming?”
Not in a million years did Marcus ever expect to see the inside of Jamie’s house. It was nothing like he’d pictured, either. In his mind, Jamie was a king living in a palace, deigning to mingle with lesser men. But the space was homey, slightly outdated, signs of its male inhabitants everywhere, though Rory’s girlfriend’s influence was in places, too. Textbooks, sunflowers in vases sprinkled in among the kicked off sneakers and empty beer bottles.
The house was empty thanks to Andrew and Rory working the Castle Gate, and Jamie didn’t stop in the quiet kitchen. He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and headed for the stairs so fast, Marcus had to speed walk after him. He saw Jamie take a left and disappear into a room at the end of the hall, and with his pulse spiking like a football, he followed.
“This is more what I pictured,” Marcus said, entering the dimly lit room, rubbing his sweating palms on his rain-soaked jeans. “Black and white and dark wood and no dust on your desk fan and a Mac. I knew you’d have a Mac. No dishes anywhere. I knew you’d have no—”
“You’re rambling, Diesel,” Jamie said, sitting on the bed and bending forward to untie his boots. “Take a deep breath. It’s just me.”
“Just you,” Marcus said with a quiet laugh. “That’s like saying…just Noah Syndergaard.”
Having toed off his boots, Jamie straightened. “Except I’m less pitcher, more catcher.”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned and Marcus’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
Already, there hadn’t been a hope in hell of his dick staying soft in Jamie’s bedroom. After Jamie’s implication that he liked being on the bottom, Marcus’s cock was at such rigid attention, it threatened to bust open his jeans. He could only exist inside the fierce ache as Jamie stripped off his shirt and stood, taking slow, measured steps in Marcus’s direction.
“Why did you come here for?” Jamie asked, stopping right in front of him.
A shiver passed through Marcus and he had to close his eyes because having Jamie so close and so half naked in front of a bed was so overwhelming. “To make sure you got home safe.”
“Why else?”
“If that guy kissed you,” Marcus breathed unevenly. “I was probably going to break a bottle over my own head.”
“That’s probably not a healthy impulse, but sure.” Marcus only knew Jamie moved closer because of the warm breath that fanned his neck. “What did you come here for?”
Marcus swallowed hard. “I wanted to be the one who kissed you good night, babe.”
A pause. “Just kiss me?”
“No,” Marcus rasped, thunder cracking in his bloodstream. “I came for all of it.”
Jamie’s palm coasted up under his shirt, his fingertips dragging in light circles around Marcus’s nipples, before traveling down, down, lingering on the snap of his jeans…and then Jamie’s grip closed around the bulge of his cock.
“Oh Jesus, please,” Marcus moaned, his legs very nearly giving way, teeth chattering a little. “You’ve never touched me there.”
“Believe me, I know.”
Marcus dropped his open mouth to the curve of Jamie’s neck, struggling to breathe. “Tell me you’ve wanted to.”
“I’ve needed to.” Jamie started a firm massage, cradling Marcus’s cock through his jeans and slide-squeezing it, base to tip. Up and down, up and down. “You think you were the only one jealous tonight? I thought you might make a friend, but you kept moving closer and I stopped being rational. You’re the only one who does that to me, Marcus. I couldn’t think straight with anyone else near you.”
“I was just trying to get a better view of Kurt’s hand,” Marcus growled, rocking his hips into the perfect pressure of Jamie’s touch. “I knew he was going to do it. Put his hand on my Jamie.”
Jamie’s eyes met his. “I’m sorry I let that happen.” Keeping his attention locked on Marcus’s face, he unbuttoned Marcus’s jeans and tugged down his zipper, reaching in to draw out his full, throbbing erection. And there he was, bare and dripping in Jamie’s hand, the beginning of nine thousand of his most private fantasies coming true. “I’m going to give you the rest of that apology on my knees. I don’t give a fuck if that’s right or we should handle this differently. I just need you to look down at me eating your big, thick cock and know I never wanted anyone’s hands on me tonight but yours.”