Page 82 of Playing His Game

Naked, they climbed into bed. Their limbs tangled together as their lips connected. Even just this, naked and making out, was better with Mo than orgasms with anyone else.

“Get the lube and open me up,” Mo gasped into his ear.

Adam scrambled for the bedside drawer and the lube he’d brought from Phoenix.

Mo chuckled as he flipped it open. “Good boy.”

Adam shivered and got as much slick on his fingers as he could. Mo flung a leg over Adam’s hip to give him the room to work, and he did.

After weeks of fucking at every opportunity, Adam knew how to stroke, tease, and press, and Mo’s body knew his touch and opened for him so, so easy. Soon, he was three fingers deep while Mo murmured filth in his ear.

“Enough. Wrap up and get in me, stud.”

Adam rubbed his lube-slick fingers against the sheets and reached for a condom. Mo shifted onto his back and spread his legs so Adam could settle between them.

Then Adam was pushing inside as Mo moaned and gasped into his mouth. He wound his legs around Adam’s hips, tangled his hands in his hair, and said in the space between their lips, “Now fuck me right, just like you promised.”

Adam braced himself and rolled his hips hard, long, slow pulls out and harsh pushes in.

It had never been like this before. They’d been so eager, so hungry, scrambling to get their clothes off and chase orgasm, that slow wasn’t in the vocabulary. They’d never had time to kiss so much, to stare into each other’s eyes while slowly climbing toward mutual release.

Their hands found each other. Adam watched Mo’s cheeks flush darker, his eyelashes flutter, his teeth press into his lower lip as he tried to hold back his moans. Fuck, he was beautiful. Adam could stay like this forever, inside Mo, bringing him pleasure. For a moment, he was sure hecouldgo forever, last as long as Mo asked him to. Thrust into him as much as he wanted if it meant bringing him pleasure. Adam was Mo’s to command, had been from the first time—from before the first time, probably.

Because Adam wasn’t just stupid for Mo in bed. If these past few days had proved anything, Adam wasalwayseager to make Mo happy. There was an eight-foot tree upstairs to prove it.

“That’s right, so good.” Mo slid his knees up and pulled Adam in close, even as he tightened his grip on their tangled hands. “Just like that, right there. Your cock is so good. You’re so good, give it to me just right, just how I like it.”

Adam buried his face in Mo’s shoulder and put his back into it.

“Fffuuuck, oh fuck, just—good, fuck. Adam. I’m close. You’re going to make me come, aren’t you? On your cock.”

Adam’s ears burned. He thrust harder. Mo hadn’t ever come untouched before. The mere suggestion of it had Adam dizzy with lust. That he could get Mo there by fucking him just right—he felt like a sex god.

Mo pulled his right knee up higher, knocking it against Adam’s ribs. “Help, uh, me hold—oh God.” Adam shifted, and together, they got Mo’s shin pressed against his chest, and the angle was good, judging by the whine Mo bit off and the way he pressed his face into the pillow and his mouth into their joined hands.

Adam rabbited his hips, desperate to push more of those whines out of Mo, so focused, he barely noticed the kick of Mo’s heel against his spine. Then Mo gasped, his mouth fell open, his back arched, and he spilled between them. He fell apart on Adam’s cock just like he promised, beautiful, lost in pleasure.

Adam fucked him through it, breathing shallowly, barely aware of his own pleasure—until Mo raised a hand to his lips and pushed his thumb between Adam’s teeth and Adam rocketed into orgasm, heaving.

God.God.

When he lifted his head again from Mo’s neck, Mo pulled him into a wet, breathless kiss. The moment stretched out as they lay on their sides, breathing into the humid space between them.

Their hands were still joined—joined again, maybe—between their chests, fingers intertwined. Right now, Adam couldn’t have untangled them if he wanted to.

He realized, blinking into Mo’s hazy eyes, that he didn’t want to. Not tonight and maybe not ever. Mo should stay with him like this, their lives tangled together like Christmas lights. Adam would happily spend the rest of his years running interference when the Murphys got too much. Mo had already proven he could handle them, though. Another few visits and he’d be a pro. Hell, he’d thrive in an environment where people loved and teased each other in equal measure. Adam wanted to meet the man he’d be after a year of this, or five, or fifteen. They might’ve started off adversarial, but they knew each other now. Adam knew Mo in ways he’d never let himself know anyone, and Mo knew him too. He’d come home with him, hadn’t he? He wanted Adam’s parents to like him. He let Chuckie show himMighty Machinesvideos.

But if Adam wanted to know for sure, he’d have to ask.

He was just pulling Mo’s hand toward his face so he could kiss his knuckles for luck when Mo said, “I think we have to break up.”

12

Mo didn’t deserve the Murphy family. Throughout the rest of their stay, they treated him as they always had, even though they must have sensed the tension between him and Adam.

Mo would love to believe that tension didn’t exist, but he hadn’t yet mastered lying to himself at that level. The stiffness in Adam’s shoulders as they sat together on the couch transferred through two ugly Christmas sweaters. It only softened momentarily when Chuckie opened her present from Mo to reveal a Magna-Tiles building set. Chuckie flung herself at Mo’s knees in delight, screeching thank-yous at a pitch only dogs could hear.

He tried to walk it back a little, when they had a break between breakfast and dinner on Christmas Day and he caught Adam in a rare moment alone. “I didn’t mean we have to stop, like, sleeping together. Just—your family is so nice. I don’t want them to get too attached.”