Swipe Page 2

  Chapter Two

  BASS HADN’T actually expected Doc the Grindr hookup to turn up at his door. If the location hadn’t put him off, he figured the rain would do the job. He’d just used the tease of it, the blunt lust of “wanna fuck,” and the picture of the dark-haired man who looked sardonic even in sunshine and shades, to make jerking off a bit more interesting.

  The last six months—broke, back home, and bored as fuck—had left his usual go-to fantasies a bit worn out from overuse.

  Not that he was going to object now that Prince Charming, with his wet tuxedo and sweet, cider-sharp mouth, had knocked on the door. He dragged the tall drenched man out of the rain and into the apartment, mouths pressed together in scraped kisses and eager, curious hands on, in, and over their bodies. Bass’s cock rubbed impatiently against his jeans, already primed for someone to touch it. He pushed his hands up under Doc’s shirt, wet silk tangled around his fingers, and grazed his hands over bare, cold skin. The raw gasp that clawed up out of Doc’s throat, a shock of need, was gratifyingly immediate.

  Bass bit Doc’s lower lip—he had thin, firm lips that probably looked stern under other circumstances—and then let it scrape out of his teeth as he leaned back. “Shut the door,” he ordered.

  Doc swallowed raggedly and licked his bruised lip. He reached back and fumbled blindly at the edge of the door until he shoved it over. The click of the lock tightened in Bass’s balls like a promise.

  “You still want to fuck?” Bass asked as he shoved Doc against the door. He pressed against him, wet fabric a thin layer between their skins, and felt the hard nudge of Doc’s answer against his hip. “Then we should set some ground rules. I’m in charge. You do what I say.”

  Doc swallowed and leaned his head back. His dark eyes were dazed with lust as Bass touched him, and it took him a moment to focus.

  “If you knew me,” Doc said, his voice low and rough like the growl of a well-tuned bike, “you’d know that doesn’t sound like me.”

  Bass shrugged and pressed a hard kiss against the hinge of Doc’s jaw. “That’s the point, ain’t it?” he said. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. So tonight you can be whatever I want you to be.”

  “Uh-huh,” Doc said skeptically. He ran his hands up Bass’s arms to grip his biceps. “And what do I get out of that?”

  “Whatever I do for you… to you… Doc,” Bass said as he worked a trail of wet, bitten kisses down Doc’s throat to the bony jut of his collarbone under his shirt. “Nobody has to know.”

  Doc swallowed audibly, and Bass felt the gulp as it moved past his lips. He tightened his hands around Bass’s arms, ready to push him away, and then he relaxed.

  “So what do you want me to do?” Doc asked.

  Bass had planned to see where lust took him, but… off the top of his head? He licked the bruised stain he’d left on Doc’s skin and stepped back. He folded his lower lip between his teeth, the pinch of pain a brief, sweet itch as he looked Doc up and down. Even drenched, his cock an unmistakable bulge against his fitted black trousers, the man looked expensive. Bass reached out and pleated the lapel of Doc’s jacket between his fingers. The fabric caught against the calluses on his fingers.

  “This? Keep it on,” he said. His voice thickened at the thought, a catch of lust in the back of his throat. Apparently he had a thing for well-dressed men. Who knew? “You actually look like you might be a doctor.”

  Doc raised a dark, straight eyebrow. “That’s because I am,” he said. “Doctor—”

  That was not what Bass wanted out of tonight. He used the handful of jacket to drag Doc away from the door and into a “shut up” kiss. Doc growled into Bass’s mouth in a flash of temper but didn’t try to pull back. He tangled his hand into Bass’s hair and pulled him closer so he could deepen the kiss. With lips and tongue still chilled from the rain, Doc explored Bass’s mouth almost desperately. He curled his hand around Bass’s hip and dragged him closer until Bass’s cock rubbed against the hard line of his thigh.

  Pleasure ran through Bass’s marrow and pulled his skin tight. There had been a fuck of a lot of reality the last few months—engine grime under his nails, the shabby friendships he needed to barter into opportunities, broken noses under his knuckles for the hundred bucks they owed the club. He wanted the lie of this, the hot doctor on his knees for some rough trade, without any of the details that would make him wonder if this was a good idea.

  “You obviously haven’t done this before,” he said as he broke the kiss. “I don’t need your name or your job, and if you tell me where you live, I’d probably rob you.”

  A flash of dark humor creased Doc’s face. “Too late for that,” he muttered. “And I need a name.”

  Bass drew back. “Don’t get attached, Doc. Trust me, it’ll end badly.”

  “Fightjunkie,” Doc said as he tugged Bass’s head to the side so he could kiss the hollow under his ear—all teeth and eager mouth. “It doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

  Yeah, he could have a point about that. The night Bass made his profile, he had a hangover and broken knuckles and was as sick of himself as everyone else got. Eventually. It seemed appropriate enough, and it certainly hadn’t slowed down the steady stream of dick pics.

  “Bass,” he said after a pause. It was just a nickname, after all, no more his legal name than his app handle. The only difference was it sounded less aggressively fucked-up. Bass felt a shiver run down his spine as Doc mouthed the name against his throat. “You?”

  Doc let go of Bass’s hair and ran his hand down his back, along the tight lines of muscle and under the waistband of his jeans. He stroked the curve of Bass’s ass, and the rain’s chill had finally faded. His skin felt hot where it touched Bass.

  “I thought you didn’t need my name,” Doc teased.

  He didn’t. Want, though? Kinda, just to even the playing field now that Doc knew his.

  “I thought I told you to do what you’re told?”

  “Tell me, then,” Doc said. His voice caught in his throat, a dark thrill mixed with stiff uncertainty. He really wasn’t used to being told what to do. “What do you want me to do?”

  For a moment Bass almost spent the chit on Doc’s name. But that would have been a waste when there were so many other things he wanted to do. Besides, if Bass still wanted to know when they were done? If Doc wouldn’t tell him whatever he wanted, he’d have really lost his touch.

  Instead he smirked and twisted his hands in the wet silk of Doc’s shirt and tugged him in tightly against his body. He pressed a quick, hard kiss against the pulse that fluttered in Doc’s neck.

  “Whatever I want,” he whispered against the wet skin. Then he gave Doc a shove.

  The fine white shirt ripped open, and the mother-of-pearl buttons, torn from their moorings, pinged onto the floor. Doc stumbled backward and sprawled over the couch, all long legs and a vaguely aggrieved expression. Bass tugged a packet of lube out of his pocket before he unfastened his jeans and pushed them down over his hips. His cock nudged up toward his stomach, tight and eager as he kicked the tangled denim from under his feet. Bass tossed the foil packet onto the coffee table and then wrapped his fingers around his erection. He stroked the length of it and then squeezed. The quick discomfort in the shaft mellowed to liquid pleasure by the time it reached his balls.

  “Take your pants off, Doc.”

  Doc obediently hitched his hips up off the couch as he fumbled with his trousers, his attention fixed on Bass. He finally managed to undo the buttons and impatiently shove the pants down toward his knees. That left him with a pair of fitted black briefs, his cock a hard ridge under the tight fabric. Doc palmed his erection through the cotton and rubbed it roughly.

  Bass didn’t know why that was hot as fuck. It just was. Maybe because Doc didn’t look away as he did it. His eyes, so dark they looked black, stayed focused on Bass as Doc bit his lip and tugged his cock with impatient fingers.

  “You missing something important to be here?” Bass aske
d. He pumped his hand along the hard shaft of his cock as he walked over to the couch. Doc licked his lips and squirmed, his palm pressed against his cock as he glanced from the hard jut of Bass’s wet cock up to his face as though he couldn’t decide what made him go hard quicker. “Jilted some lady at the altar? Ditched an award ceremony?”

  Doc snorted. “Last girl who thought I was a good bet as a husband was Marcie Green. We were five, and she married my Action Man instead,” he said. He set his jaw for a second with a flash of something dark that cut through the haze of lust, and his voice hardened. “Never work with your ex. Mine brought his new boyfriend, who he fucked behind my back, to a fundraiser. I wasn’t in the mood to stomach it.”

  “He hotter than me?” Bass asked as crawled onto the couch, one knee braced between Doc’s sprawled thighs.

  “Who?”

  Bass pulled Doc’s hands away from his cock—he ignored the low noise of protest Doc made—and pinned them against the couch. He leaned down until he could feel Doc’s breath, warm and uneven from arousal, against his mouth.

  “Either of them,” he said.

  “No,” Doc answered immediately, his voice harsh with thoughtless honesty. Regret caught up with him a second later as he grimaced guiltily and tilted his head back. His throat worked as he tried to swallow what he’d just said, as though that would mean it weren’t true. “That’s not—”

  This time Bass kissed him just to shut him up. He didn’t much care if Doc wasn’t over his pencil-neck ex, but that didn’t mean he wanted to waste any time on it. After a startled second Doc stretched up into the kiss, his mouth wet and aggressive as he chased the kiss back over Bass’s lips. He strained against Bass’s grip on his arms, the tendons in his wrists tight against his fingers.

  “Learn to shut up when you’re winning,” Bass told him with one last scraped bite to Doc’s lips. He lowered himself onto the long sprawl of the other man’s body, his cock pressed up against the flat plane of his tight stomach. The pressure dragged a low, ragged noise out of Doc’s throat as he squirmed under Bass. “I’m hot, and I’m going to fuck you. Enjoy.”

  “Oh, because there’s nothing in it for you,” Doc said, a hint of something between dry and bitter in his voice. “Just doing me out of charity?”

  “I was bored,” Bass said. He thrust against Doc’s stomach, precome and sweat slick as his cock slid between their bodies. “And you clean up good.”

  Doc laughed. It squinted his eyes and creased his cheeks with a flash of dark humor that made Bass’s mouth go dry. Like Doc’s voice, his tux, and the hard, practicality of his body, it hit a bunch of buttons Bass didn’t know he had.

  “Maybe I should change my profile pic,” he said.

  Bass smirked as he looked down at Doc’s face. His hair was wet and unruly, his lips reddened, and there were spit-wet bruises on his collarbones. The holiday photo he had now was hot enough, if a bit cheesy, but if he’d looked like this when Bass opened his profile? Bass would have gone to him… even in the rain.

  Despite that thought, gravelly resistance swelled in Bass’s chest at the prospect. He didn’t want to spend too much time on why, but he didn’t like the idea.

  He pushed himself against Doc’s stomach again with a hard thrust that ground his cock against smooth skin and rough hair. Pleasure tightened in his balls and the backs of his thighs, an impatient ache for more. Under him Doc choked out a curse between his teeth and arched into the contact.

  “Shut up,” Bass told him genially, “and let me fuck you.”

  He let go of Doc’s wrists and kissed his way down his body, from his bruised collarbone to his lean chest. His pink nipples tightened, puckered into tight buds as Bass scraped his teeth and tongue over them. Doc groaned and tangled his fingers in Bass’s hair, his breathing ragged and muscles tight as he struggled for control.

  There was a scar under his ribs, a folded dip of flesh ridged with old stitch marks and almost lost in the bony shadow. The skin was tight under Bass’s tongue, slick where it had knit back together, and Doc hissed uncomfortably when he lingered.

  Bass left it and squirmed lower. The taste of his own come was sharp and musky against his tongue as he bit kisses down Doc’s stomach, the dark trail of hair matted and sticky under his tongue until he reached the thin barrier of black cotton.

  “Fuck,” Doc groaned thickly as Bass mouthed at the ridge of his cock through his briefs. Spit soaked the fabric as Bass worked his way from the tight curve of his balls to the precome-sticky head. He braced his arm across Doc’s hips to pin him down as he sucked with wet, messy enthusiasm at the heavy rise of flesh. “You’re gonna kill me.”

  Bass chuckled around a mouthful of cotton and cock. “I thought you were a doctor,” he said. “Blue balls never killed anyone.”

  “Great,” Doc said breathlessly. “I’ll finally get to make medical precedent.”

  Bass hooked his fingers in the waistband of Doc’s briefs and pulled them down. The elastic caught on the curve of his cock and then sprang free. Shiny with spit, it was average length but thick and flushed with blood. Bass licked a wet swipe from root to head and then shifted back onto his knees.

  His cock nudged wetly against his stomach as he sat back. Bass ran his hands up Doc’s thighs, muscles pulled long and tight under the skin, to his knees so he could push them up. He grabbed the lube from the table and ripped it open with his teeth. It gave off a sharp, chemical scent of watermelon as he squeezed it onto his fingers.

  Doc shifted and hitched his hips off the couch so Bass could push his gel-slick fingers into him. His head fell back, the line of it pulled tight under bruised skin and stubble. He pushed his hips forward against the penetrating fingers as Bass worked his tight ass wide and open. His cock bounced against his stomach in ragged time with his heartbeat, skin slick with come.

  “So your ex was a bottom?” Bass asked as he pushed his fingers deeper until they grazed the firm, smooth bump of nerve-rich flesh.

  A laugh and a groan tangled in Doc’s throat as his thighs trembled. “I take it you’re not?”

  Bass brushed a kiss over Doc’s knee—all bone and a dozen faded childhood scars—and pressed down on the same spot again, a little harder this time. Doc swore, the words shredded between gritted teeth as he clenched around Bass’s fingers.

  “What gave you that idea?” Bass asked smugly as he slid his hand free.

  It took a second for Doc to get his breath back. When he did, the “condom” he gasped out wasn’t exactly what Bass wanted to hear. With one hand he groped at his jacket as he propped himself up on his elbow.

  “I’ve got a clean bill of health,” Bass said as he wrapped slippery fingers around Doc’s cock. He dragged his thumb over the head and smirked at the whimper he coaxed out of Doc’s throat. “I don’t usually bother with a jacket.”

  “I do,” Doc said as he extended the condom, pinched between two of his fingers. “Always.”

  Bass could have argued, but he didn’t see the point. It would take longer than it would to just put the condom on, and either way, he’d get laid. He grumbled his assent and pulled the wrapper open so he could shake out the round of latex.

  “Even with your ex, Doc?” he jabbed as he rolled the latex down over his cock. It stretched, tight and shiny around the shaft. “Every time?”

  Doc sat up, his long, lean body folded awkwardly in half, and cupped Bass’s face in his hands. The kiss was quick and deep, as though Doc liked the taste of himself on Bass’s tongue.

  “I treated six patients with Hep A last month. My last needle stick was from a meth addict with a staph infection. Came up clear, but it was a worry,” Doc said. He moved his hands to Bass’s shoulders and then down his arms, fingers light against inked lines as he talked. “And my ex is a doctor too. So yeah. Now are you going to fuck me or not?”

  An old pinch of insecurity caught Bass off guard at that bit of information. He shrugged it off. The ex might have a medical license, but Bass was still hotter. For
this? Hot was all that mattered. He adjusted his position and tugged Doc into his lap, his long legs still tangled in suit pants and wrapped around Bass’s waist.

  “I can do that,” Bass said, his cock pressed into the warm, slick crease of Doc’s ass. “You sure you want me to, Doc?”

  “No,” Doc said sardonically. His voice was frayed at the edges with frustration, but his cock was rigid as he rubbed against the hard planes of Bass’s stomach. “I just thought I’d lecture you on safe sex.”

  Bass bit his shoulder. The sweat was salty against his lips as he lingered over the spot. “Just wanted to be sure.”

  He reached between their bodies and grabbed his erection in one hand. The condom was lube slick under his fingers as he pushed against Doc’s ass, and the ring of muscle was tight as it stretched around the blunt head of his cock. For a second it seemed as though he couldn’t go any further. His cock was too thick where his fingers had slid so easily. The sweet pressure ached down his shaft and settled tight and hot into his thighs.

  Doc gripped his arms, dug his long fingers into the old ink, and pressed down. The muscles in his stomach flexed, clenched under the skin, as his ass stretched around Bass’s cock. It was still tight enough to make Bass chew on the inside of his cheek, the unspent lust in his muscles twitchy and desperate.

  He wanted—needed—to be balls deep inside Doc, his cock squeezed hard by hot flesh as he fucked Doc into the couch. Sweat itched at the nape of his neck and matted into the curls and between his asscheeks as he hung on to control by a thread. Bass ran his hands up under Doc’s jacket, the ruined shirt twisted around his hand, and explored the long lines of tensed muscle and the sharp jut of shoulder blades. He licked salty kisses along Doc’s throat and across his chest, careless of any stains he left with lips and teeth on his pale skin.

  Doc said he was single. If he wasn’t… that wasn’t Bass’s problem.