The Challenge. Megan Hart
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mouth when Dean kissed him. Their tongues teased languidly until Dean slid a hand down to cup Jacob’s crotch. Then Jacob drew in a hitching breath and pulled away enough to center his gaze on Dean’s.
“I can figure out why she agreed to it, but why did you?”
Dean tasted Jacob on his lips but didn’t go in for another kiss. He shrugged. “Because she thought I couldn’t.”
“Ah.” Jacob tilted his head. “Well, I guess you can’t let her get away with assuming that just becauseyou like cock that makes you, oh, I dunno, GAY or anything.”
“Hey!” Dean didn’t like the insinuation, especially since Jacob didn’t know him well enough to judge him that way. “She knows I’m queer. I never pretended otherwise.”
Jacob gave an exaggerated shrug and made a face. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, sugar. Just wondering if you need to prove it to yourself or something.”
“I’ve known I was queer since the eighth grade,” Dean said flatly.
Jacob’s gaze dropped to Dean’s crotch. “Uh-huh. Like I said. You don’t have to prove it to me. I had your dick in my mouth this morning, remember? Then again.”
“Then again, what?” Dean looked at the door, thinking how he should’ve walked out on this conversation ten minutes ago but hadn’t, and not quite willing to ponder why.
“Even straight guys can be convinced getting head from another dude isn’t gay.” Jacob grinned, showing white teeth just a tiny bit too crooked.
Dean snorted lightly. “Yeah? The fuck you getting at, Jacob? You want me to suck your cock?”
Jacob rubbed at his crotch without breaking the gaze. He knew just how to work this, that little bastard. He’d known Dean all of two weeks and already had his number. Not that Dean was going to admit it, hell no. No guy got under his skin, not that he’d let on. Ever.
“Sure,” Jacob said with a raised brow.
In answer, Dean grabbed Jacob’s belt. Undid the buckle. Then the zipper. He freed Jacob’s dick, stroking it from half-hard to full-on wood in half a minute after that. Jacob swallowed hard, eyes getting heavy-lidded.
“You think I don’t suck cock?” Dean breathed, voice husky in anticipation.
“Well,” Jacob said, feigning a nonchalance made obviously false by the tremor in his tone, “you haven’t sucked mine.”
Dean laughed at that, still stroking until Jacob pushed his hips forward. “Your spaghetti’s going to get cold.”
“I…like…cold spaghetti.” Jacob’s voice broke on a gasp, and that was all the impetus Dean needed.
He went to his knees and yanked down Jacob’s jeans at the same time, baring the other man’s body and gripping his tight ass. Jacob’s cock was thick and hard, bobbing upward at the release from tight denim. Dean captured it at the base with one fist. His mouth found it next, and he slid Jacob’s cock deep into the back of his throat.
Dean closed his eyes.
Not because he didn’t want to see what he was doing. He liked watching, as a matter of fucking fact, but this was different. On his knees, giving head, was different than looking down at someone in the same place. On his knees, Dean liked to lose himself in the smells and sounds, the taste of whoever he was fucking. He let go of Jacob’s ass to put Jacob’s hand on the back of his head, curling Jacob’s fingers into his hair. Urging him to guide the pace, if he wanted.
Yeah, Dean liked being on top. Fucking. But he wasn’t averse to giving pleasure, either, and it was always, always better when the other person felt comfortable enough to say what they liked. Or show him. Dean wasn’t above admitting he could be an asshole, but never let it be said he was a selfish lover.
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