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Liam’s eyes widened. “What?”
Ambrose leaned forward. “You’re cute, Liam. And you have a brain. And you’re decent. That’s a pretty fucking rare combination, you know?”
“Careful,” Liam said, his heart in his throat, “or I’ll think you actually like me.”
Ambrose tilted his head to one side, considering. Then he caught Liam’s gaze and held it. “Maybe I do.”
There was a moment of fraught silence while he likes you, he likes you, he likes you echoed through Liam’s brain like a klaxon, then Liam was surging forward towards Ambrose, his actions driven by a single thought—Fuck it.
Ambrose must have had a similar thought process because he met Liam in the middle of the hot tub in a tangle of limbs. Liam copped an elbow to the chin, and he laughed it off, because Ambrose liked him. Then they were kissing, knees slipping on the floor of the hot tub, fingers sliding over wet skin. It was messy and awkward, and they would probably drown, but at the same time it was the most incredible kiss Liam had ever experienced.
Ambrose’s lips were just as ridiculously soft as Liam had imagined them to be, and he kissed like he was born for it. The muscles in his back were firm under Liam’s hands as he wrapped his arms around Ambrose and clung like a limpet—partly to pull him closer, and partly to steady himself so they didn’t go arse over teakettle in the tub.
It had been too long since Liam had gotten to enjoy the feel of bare skin against his, and he wasn’t going to spoil it by thinking too hard about it. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the sensations of a tongue sliding into his mouth and a hand tangling in his hair as they kissed some more.
When they finally pulled apart, Liam opened his eyes to find Ambrose staring at him with something like awe. Then his trademark grin appeared, and he said, “So. Wanna take this somewhere less hazardous?”
Liam nodded like a bobblehead, slightly breathless, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was actually happening. Ambrose leaned in and stole another quick kiss before scrambling to his feet, which meant Liam was face to face with the obvious bulge in Ambrose’s clingy, almost see-through boxer briefs. Every curve, every contour was highlighted by the wet fabric, to the point that Liam could tell Ambrose was uncut, and Liam had the fleeting thought that if Ambrose had wanted to do porn, he was definitely built for it.
“Oh,” Liam said. “Wow. That’s…yeah. Impressive.” His own cock, which had already been taking an interest, perked up even further as he imagined getting his hands—or maybe his mouth—on all that.
Ambrose let out a soft laugh. “The one muscle I didn’t get from a gym”—he raised his eyebrows—“but also the one I work out the most, if I’m honest.” He made a crude hand gesture and grinned. “These days, it’s mainly at-home workouts, though.”
Liam snorted, more pleased at the thought that Ambrose didn’t do this often than he had any right to be, and carefully climbed to his feet. Ambrose didn’t even try to hide the way he looked Liam up and down, his gaze lingering on Liam’s own wet underwear. Liam felt his face warm up and fought the urge to cover himself. His self-doubt faded when Ambrose nodded and said, “Fuck, you’re pretty all over, aren’t you?” He leaned in for another kiss.
Liam could have happily stayed there enjoying Ambrose and his magic mouth—and that was a porn title if ever he’d heard one—for hours or days or years, except it quickly became uncomfortable standing up to his knees in hot water while the rest of him was a fraction too cool, and Ambrose obviously felt the same because he pulled back and stepped out of the tub, throwing Liam a towel and grabbing one for himself.
They scurried from the patio into the bedroom where it was warmer and dried themselves haphazardly, Liam taking the opportunity to appreciate the play of Ambrose’s muscles under his skin when he moved, the way the light glistened off the droplets of water caught in his chest hair. Ambrose caught him looking of course and grinned widely before hooking his thumbs in the elastic of his underwear and pushing it down his thighs.
Liam’s towel hit the floor at about the same time his jaw did, because Ambrose was a work of fucking art. It was as if God himself had looked at a perfect Grecian statue of a man and said, “I can do one better,” and the result had been Ambrose. Also, unlike a classical sculpture, his dick was more than proportionate, and rather than cold marble, it was warm flesh, slapping against Ambrose’s belly with every step he took towards Liam.
Liam shook himself out of his hotness-induced daze, and taking a deep breath, pushed his own wet briefs down, screwing up his nose at the drag of clammy fabric against his thighs. He kicked the underwear away, and he didn’t have a chance to be self-conscious because Ambrose was right there, gripping his face in his palms, murmuring, “So fucking gorgeous, Li.” He kissed him again, moving a hand down to his arse and squeezing lightly.
“Same,” Liam agreed, breathless. Ambrose’s dick was pressed against his, a solid line of heat, and he ground up against it instinctively, chasing that delicious friction, his arousal building frighteningly fast. He wondered if Ambrose would judge him if he came just like this.
Ambrose shuddered and pulled away, but it was only to dart over to the open basket on the table and grab a bottle of lube. Then he was back, leading Liam by the hand over to the bed.
“What do you…?” Liam could barely push the words out. “How do you want to do this?”
“Don’t care,” Ambrose said, leaning in to nip at Liam’s bottom lip. His eyes were wide. “I’m about ready to blow anyway.”
Liam didn’t know where he found the breath to laugh. “Same.”
Ambrose pushed Liam onto the bed and climbed up with him, straddling his thighs for a moment as he struggled to open the lube. Then he squeezed it too hard—“Oh, shit!”—and Liam laughed as a huge glob of it landed on his chest and the smell of fake strawberry flooded the room.
“Well,” said Ambrose, scooping it up with his fingers, “waste not, want not.” He curled his fingers around Liam’s dick, and Liam almost jack-knifed off the bed.
A moment later they were kissing again, one of Ambrose’s legs wedged between Liam’s thighs. They rocked against each other, skin hot and slick. Liam tilted his hips to line their bodies up better and moaned when Ambrose’s dick slid against his in the tight space they’d created. The wet sounds their bodies made rubbing together were filthy and amazing at the same time, and Liam rocked with more urgency, the slip-slide of flesh on flesh unbearably good.
“Fuck,” Ambrose muttered, burying his face in the curve of Liam’s throat, panting, his five o’clock shadow rasping against the tender skin. The roll of his hips sped up, and Liam matched his pace as his balls tingled and his cock throbbed. He rutted against Ambrose shamelessly, the need in his belly coiling tighter. Ambrose slipped a hand between them and wrapped a wide palm around both of their dicks, giving urgent little tugs, and it was the heat of his touch that had Liam arching his back and choking on air. His orgasm hit him hard, and he let out a whine as he came, his dick pulsing in Ambrose’s grasp.
Ambrose grunted and his body jerked as well, and Liam felt warmth on his stomach as Ambrose added to the mess there, stroking them both gently through it before stilling. He laughed softly, his breath warm against Liam’s throat. “Wow.”
“Wow,” Liam echoed, tracing patterns across Ambrose’s back as he blinked up at the ceiling and wondered what, exactly, happened now.
Chapter Fifteen
Ambrose
