Graham was quiet as he opened the door and let Archie into his hotel room. Archie smiled silently as he passed through the threshold, crossing about six feet into the room before stopping to take in his surroundings. He took a deep breath.
“So this is a room, huh?” He asked.
“Not just any room,” Graham teased as he entered and crossed to Archie. “This a Deluxe King Executive Guest Room.”
“Oh,” Archie observed dramatically. “Fancy.”
“I’m kind of a big deal in the hotel rewards game, you know.”
Archie turned to face him. “So I hear.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, each adjusting to the reality of the situation, the other threshold they were crossing together. Archie carried two wine glasses and a bottle opener he'd snagged from the bar on their way through the lobby, and he held them out towards Graham with a shrug.
“Want to point me towards the wine?” He asked.
Graham smiled and took the glasses out of Archie's hand.
“You sit. I'm pouring the drinks for once.”
Archie smiled and walked over to the half-couch-half-chaise along the far wall of the room. Graham placed the glasses on the counter and retrieved the wine from a shelf in his closet, where he deposited his jacket on one of the wooden coat hangers.
“I didn't really know what to get, so…I hope this one is good,” Graham confessed, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.
“I'm sure it will be fine. I have no reasons to doubt your taste.” Archie answered encouragingly. They were quiet as Graham cut the foil from the bottle and popped the cork. A satisfying thunk echoed through the room.
“This room is pretty cozy, actually,” Archie observed.
“Yeah?” Graham asked as he poured the wine generously into each glass.
“Granted, my expectations were pretty low.”
“Hey, low expectations are the key to happiness, if you ask me,” Graham chuckled as he joined Archie on the couch. “But yes, I've had worse hotel rooms.”
Archie took his glass from Graham, and they clinked their drinks together in a quick cheers motion. Archie continued to study the room.
“I wish it had some of your personality, though.”
“How so?”
“You know,” Archie looked around the room. “Like, photos of you on the wall. Fun knick knacks on the shelves to ask about. Embarrassing childhood blanket that's survived too long into adulthood.”
Graham laughed. “I see your point. Though, to be fair, my apartment back home isn't much better.”
“No?” Archie asked, taking a sip of wine.
Graham thought for a second and took a drink. “No. I don't know, it’s just felt very temporary. Hasn't felt worthwhile to make it my own. “
“That's a shame.”
“Yeah,” Graham agreed. “At least here I have housekeeping to pick up my dirty underwear.”
“Man,” Archie shook his head disapprovingly. “Another shame.”
“Oh yeah?” Graham asked, raising an amused eyebrow.
Archie laughed, and readjusted himself on the couch, bringing one leg up under the other to angle himself towards Graham. Graham mirrored him, their hands falling dangerously close to one another atop the backrest.
“Oh, you know what they say, you don't really know a person until you know what kind of underwear he likes.”
“Oh yes, the old underwear adage.” Graham’s cheeks warmed, but he leaned into the flirtation. “Well, I know you're partial to some Calvin Kleins. Where does that put me?”
Archie gave a coy smile and took a sip of wine. “Sounds like someone was peeking at the bar the other night.”
“Hey, don't blame me for your work uniform,” Graham teased.
“I don't pick the dress code,” Archie winked.
“Oh, I see. So you're required to be shirtless?”
“Well,” Archie rolled his eyes mischievously. “Okay, maybe I picked that part.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought.”
Graham took a drink of wine, feeling its warmth spread through his stomach, a brief distraction from the warmth spreading to other parts of his body. He cleared his throat.
“For what it's worth,” Graham said. His voice was gruff. It sounded sexy. “Between that and the hotel, I like that uniform better.”
“Is that so?” Archie raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Graham said breathlessly.
His fingers found Archie's on the backrest. His finger gave a gentle stroke on the top of Archie's knuckles before slowly, cautiously interlacing their fingers together. Their eyes met. Archie's were warm and inviting; Graham's dark with uncertainty.
“What did you like about it?” Archie asked, his tone straddling the line between suggestive and sincere.
“Well, I liked seeing more of your body,” Graham admitted. His statement landed heavier than he intended, a little clumsy. He continued, hoping to smooth things out. “I liked discovering that you have tattoos.”
“I do,” Archie confirmed casually.
“I like that your chest and stomach are so smooth and muscular.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Graham swallowed. “I liked watching muscles flex while you made drinks. Liked seeing where your chain lands on your collar bone. I liked the dimples on your lower back, right above your waistband.”
Archie grinned, his eyes burning.
“So were you staring at my dimples or my Calvins?”
“Hell if I remember,” Graham admitted breathlessly.
Slowly, Graham leaned forward and kissed Archie.
There was a hesitance that had been absent the day before, an understanding that this kiss, unlike yesterday's which marked the end of the day's events, signified an important beginning. This kiss would set in motion something Graham until very recently had never imagined for himself, but something he could no longer deny he wanted.
More than that, he yearned for it. Craved it.
After a few, cautious seconds, their mouths warming up, becoming reacquainted with one another, Archie pulled back, a smile on his face. He reached out and took Graham’s wine glass, placing it, along with his own, on the end table behind him.
“Didn't think we need our hands full,” he said, a quiet playfulness energizing his voice.
“You're probably right,” Graham smirked.
His hands now free, Archie moved closer to Graham, closing the distance between them, and brought their lips together once more. Graham's hand found its way into Archie's lush hair. Archie reached out and rested a hand on Graham's thigh, sending a jolt of electricity up and down his leg. Their free hands found each other once again on the back of the couch, fingers weaving together in a reassuring knot, anchoring themselves to one another.
Their tongues danced, lapping and twirling and flicking and grazing with a lazy indulgence. Archie ran his hand up and down Graham's thigh, and Graham moaned into Archie's mouth, the vibrations passing seamlessly between them. Taking this as a sign of approval, of permission, Archie inched closer, putting his hand on Graham's chest, fingering the triangle of bare chest at the open collar of his shirt.
Graham's hand left Archie's hair and traced down his neck and shoulder, squeezing his bicep and forearm until it stopped just over Archie's hand, resting on his chest. He pressed the hand closer to him, urging Archie to continue. Archie understood. As soon as Graham's hand left, returning to his shoulder and neck, he began to undo the buttons of Graham's shirt.
Graham gripped Archie’s shoulder as fingers grazed through the hair on his chest, tracing circles on his sternum, spreading across his collar bone to his bare shoulder. Instinctively, Graham pulled Archie forward, wanting him, needing him closer. Archie responded enthusiastically, pressing up on his knee and swinging his leg over Graham's thighs, straddling his lap.
At this junction, their pace quickened, any sense of hesitation burned away by the increasing heat and passion between them. Graham's hands gripped Archie’s ribcage, explored up and down his back, squeezed his waist. The weight on his lap alerted Graham to the fact that he was rock hard, his erection straining uncomfortably in his pants. Each brush of Archie's body on top of him sent shockwaves through him, causing more soft moans to escape his throat.
Archie kissed him feverishly, his tounge driving into Graham's mouth with a kind of desperation, as if any space left between them was inexcusable. His hands continued to work down the buttons of Graham's shirt, pulling clumsily as he reached the shirttails tucked into Graham's pants. Once his shirt was open, his torso bare, Graham felt Archie grip his wrists and pin his hands against the backrest behind him.
The movement surprised Graham, and he let out a quiet yelp as Archie's mouth moved across his jaw, his neck, the space behind his ear. Graham moaned uncontrollably as Archie's hot, wet mouth traced a line to the base of his neck. He dragged his tongue up Graham's throat, over his Adam's apple, cresting his chin before diving once again into his mouth. Instinctively, driven by white hot impulse, Graham closed his mouth around it, creating a gentle suction. They hung there for a moment, Graham sucking on his tongue while Archie moaned and writhed against him. It was seductive, erotic, an uninhibited expression of sensuality that surprised Graham even as he performed it. He pressed his hips up against Archie, overwhelmed by the burning sense of need coursing through his entire body.
Finally, Archie pulled back, chest heaving, eyes burning with desire and delight. Graham could feel the heat in his own cheeks as he caught his breath, holding Archie's gaze intently.
Archie’s eyes slid down and up Graham's torso, causing a momentary self-consciousness. For so long now, the only eyes that had examined Graham’s body had been his own, and to feel the gaze of someone else was intimidating, vulnerable, exhilarating. Thankfully, the undisguised lust in Archie's eyes as they returned to Graham's dispelled any insecurity, and Graham’s chest burned with pride.
“Damn,” Archie exclaimed breathlessly.
“Damn is an understatement,” Graham chuckled.
Archie released Graham's hands, which found their way to Archie's sides, holding him gently.
“Do you…” Archie began. “Want to keep going?”
Graham nodded, adrenaline pounding in his ears.
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “I do. Do you?”
Archie rolled his hips forward, and Graham felt his erection, rock hard, press into his stomach. Archie flashed a wicked smile.
“That answer your question?”
Graham laughed, and leaned up to kiss Archie, pressing himself against Archie's torso, and – more notably – against that intoxicating hardness at Archie's groin. Archie rocked against him like gentle waves lapping against a rocky shore. Their tongues reunited. Graham gripped Archie's sides, holding him as Archie rolled back and forth. The sensation was overwhelming – Archie's cock against Graham's stomach, his ass against Graham's cock.
Archie laid his hands against Graham's chest, massaginging his pecs, grazing through the dusting of coarse hair. His fingers pulled and twirled the strands greedily, and Graham was glad he'd forgone the decision to shave. It had never crossed his mind that Archie might prefer, might be turned on by, the hair on Graham's body. Somehow, impossibly, his cock grew even harder at the thought.
He leaned up and kissed Archie's neck, his jaw, savoring the contrast of the soft, smooth skin atop the strong, sharp jawline. He could feel the faintest hints of stubble on his lips, so different from the soft, supple feel of a woman, but he liked it, this nuance, this texture, this underlying strength. It felt dangerous and wild, like some innate, animalistic instinct that could break free and consume them both at any given moment, a fate Graham found he would happily surrender to.
Archie moaned as Graham nibbled the soft skin behind his ear, his groin pressing forcefully against Graham's bare stomach. Graham's hands traveled down, cupping Archie's ass. He squeezed, admiring the dense muscle.
Eventually, Archie slid back, gliding backwards along Graham’s thighs. He planted a deep kiss on Graham before his mouth began to travel down, down over his neck and collar bone, down through his chest hair and across his nipple, down his belly until it stopped, hovering just above the waistline of Graham's pants.
Archie knelt before him, hands on Graham's thighs, and looked up with an expression of pure, unguarded want. His hands slid up Graham's legs until they found his belt. He held Graham's gaze as he quickly unfastened it and began to fumble at Graham's fly.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his eyes dark.
Graham nodded and swallowed hard.
Carefully, Archie unzipped Graham's pants, peeling away the corners of thick fabric, revealing his strained blue briefs. A wet spot had appeared at the tip of Graham's cock, which, now devoid of Archie's weight on top of him, threatened to burst through his remaining clothing. Archie brought a finger up, swirled it around the wet cloth, sending a shiver up Graham's spine. The finger moved, grazing the length of Graham's shaft before being replaced by the palm of a hand. Archie rubbed him slowly, his hand flat against Graham's aching erection, and Graham's breath hitched in his chest.
Archie looked up at him.
“You are so sexy,” he growled.
Graham blushed.
“I'm just alright,” he said bashfully.
“Just alright,” Archie mocked, shaking his head. “I swear, it's like you've never seen yourself in a mirror before.”
He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Graham's cock where it strained desperately against the underwear. It twitched at the contact. Graham arched his back, pressing into the backest, hands gripping the faux-leather seats.
Archie leaned back and brought his hands to the waistband of Graham's underwear, his eyes looking up, their silent question evident, but Graham understood.
He nodded.
Quickly, Archie hooked his fingers into Graham's briefs and began to pull them down. Graham lifted his hips, allowing his pants to escape down his thighs, pooling around his ankles. His cock slapped against his groin, pointing up towards his stomach, it's six-and-a-half inches on full display. He had never been more aware of the nakedness of his own body, of the air on his skin. Not since his own wedding night had Graham felt this exposed, this vulnerable. A sudden wave of fear washed over him, an overwhelming, paralyzing desire for Archie's approval. He resented it, this feeling of weakness, this vanity and insecurity it brought out in him.
Both he and Julie had gone to their wedding bed virgins, a fact in which he’d found tremendous comfort. At his most self-conscious, he knew that Julie had no one else – no other man, no other cock – to compare him to. He may have had his doubts, as most men do, about his size, his skill, his stamina. But her inexperience, coupled with the promise of a fresh wedding vow, meant that her approval, or at least her acceptance of him, was all but guaranteed.
But here, as Archie's eyes zeroed in on his erection, arguably the hardest he'd ever had, Graham realized he had no default to fall back on. He realized that Archie, this young, fit, impossibly gorgeous young man, who undoubtedly had dozens of other bodies and dozens of other cocks to compare him to, had all the power to break him, to crush him like a bug beneath his foot. He felt terrified.
Archie's eyes scanned his body. Graham felt them on every inch of skin, the weight of their verdict heavy on his heart, until finally they met his gaze.
“You, Graham Harris,” he growled. “Are so fucking gorgeous.”
Graham could have cum right there.
Adrenaline flooded his brain. His heart surged; his cock swelled. He didn't know why it meant so much to him, Archie's approval, but it obviously did. And now, having received it, he felt himself truly let go. He allowed himself to feel gorgeous, to feel free and sensual and aroused and desperate for Archie's touch.
Fortunately he was rewarded.
Archie's hand slid up his bare thigh. His fingers moved through his pubic hair, sliding like serpents through grass. He palmed the underside of Graham's shaft and cupped his balls in his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. Graham moaned, all inhibition burned away, as Archie wrapped his hand around the base of Graham’s cock.
He stroked gently at first, his grip light, his movements slow. He savored the feeling of Archie's strong hand gripped around his shaft. His hands were soft and large, holding him firmly. Graham felt the tiniest texture of calluses below his fingers, the telltale sign of a weightlifter. He loved this detail, similar to his own hand, to his own touch, yet at the same time wonderfully foreign. Beads of moisture appeared at the tip where Archie’s fingers collected them, drawing them out into a long, sticky string before swirling it around the swollen, maroon head. With the added lubrication Graham purred, low and deep in his chest.
Archie spat into his palm, a loud, dirty sound that sent a thrill through Graham's groin. His warm, wet hand returned and pumped faster. Graham's hips began to wriggle and writhe, his knees out wide, his ankles straining against his jeans. He pressed up into Archie's grip. Archie's free hand roamed Graham's body, reaching up to rub his chest, to pinch his nipples, reaching down to fondle his balls, to tickle his inner thighs.
Archie pulled Graham's cock towards him in a long, tight stroke. Graham leaked like a bad hotel faucet, a thick stream of precum pouring from his slit. Archie leaned forward and licked it up, his tongue warm and surprising.
Graham groaned.
“You like that?” Archie smiled wickedly.
“Yes,” Graham gasped. “More.”
Archie obliged.
He took Graham into his mouth, his head bobbing and twisting with glee. Graham reflexively reached up and gripped Archie's head, his fingers weaving through his hair, holding on for the ride. He looked down and watched with disbelief as his cock disappeared in and out of Archie's mouth. Archie devoured him like a man starved, moaning shamelessly as he relished every taste. He pressed his head down, and Graham felt his nose bury into his pubic hair, pressing to the bone, until the tip of his cock reached the back of Archie's throat.
“Oh fuck,” he gasped.
A strangled noise escaped Archie's throat as he pulled back. His eyes watered as he caught his breath, pumping Graham in his fist.
“Jesus,” Graham marveled.
“God, pardon my French but I love your cock,” Archie growled.
‘It's all yours.”
Archie returned to work, his mouth and his hand playing doubles as Graham surrendered to the tidal waves of pleasure crashing over him. He twitched and writhed and cursed and groaned as Archie engulfed him. Feeling the pressure build, he held Archie's head and began to buck his hips wildly, fucking Archie's mouth. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he recognized this raw, uninhibited passion as something entirely new, novel and exciting, something he'd never felt able to unleash in the gentle confines of his marriage. He liked it. He liked who he was while unleashing it.
Archie took it greedily, letting out a long, unbroken moan as Graham thrusted into him. He gripped Graham's thighs, steadying himself against the onslaught, until finally Graham called out a warning.
“Fuck. Archie. I'm gonna –”
Archie pulled back and took Graham's cock in his hands, pumping furiously.
Graham cried out as thick ropes of cum shot up, flying across his stomach, landing on his chest and belly, coating Archie's hand as they dripped into his pubes. White, hot stars clouded Graham's vision. His body contracted, stiff as a corpse, as the chemicals flooded his brain, until the final shockwaves subsided and he folded like crumpled laundry, collapsing back into the stiff backrest of the hotel couch.
