“You should. I certainly did. Anyway, so you had a little time to work with the track?”
“All the way over Coldwater.” She made an ‘oh my God’ face. Victor said, “So is Madame Director here?”
“She is not, yet. There are actually reasons why she’s scatter-brained.”
Valerie filled him in about some personal stuff Tanith had going on.
Victor conceded that the reasons were valid, but – as much as he liked Tanith – he didn’t want to set a precedent of being too easy to get. He would rather have been at home with Andy today. “Okay. Is she going to be here to hear this? Because I’ll drop everything else once, but not twice.”
Valerie made an ‘eek’ face. “Trust me, she knows. She promised she’d be here. I’m going to call her now. Do you need to warm up?”
“No, I’ll go do the comfort things and stretch a little. Wait for you inside?”
“Yeah, that’s good.” Valerie got her phone out. Victor went down the hall. A trip to the bathroom, a drink of water, and a few minutes chatting with the sound engineer while he stretched. Checking his phone to see if there was a text from Andy, smiling at the did you wish you still had Stan and Jamil? , sending back God did I ever, fuck L.A. traffic Fuck it ever so much, Andy wrote. Is Tanith there?
On her way. She had Reasons
Eh whatever. Be safe coming home
Always. Be thinking of other ways we can defile that chaise longue Oh honey I already have a list
LOL XOX
XOX. Victor put the phone away because he heard two female voices. He looked up and confirmed that Tanith was there, talking to Valerie. “Hey ladies. Let’s get this show on the road.”
He texted Andy again before leaving the Valley, and got the idea his husband would be in the home studio again when he arrived. So after parking, and saying hi to their security guard, he went straight up. Andy was working on the computer, but clearly had heard the door open and Victor’s footsteps coming up the stairs. “Hi catnip,” he said, pushing the chair away.
“Good session?”
“Good session. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know. Deciding which two pictures of these gorgeous humans should get the treatment. Deciding what I wanted to do with my gorgeous husband the next time I saw him.” Andy stood up, took the two steps necessary to get his arms around Victor, and kissed him. “How is it you always look better? I mean I see you in the morning and I think, okay he’s perfect. Then I see you in the afternoon and I think, yep, even better. Either I
have no short-term memory or you really do get more beautiful by the minute.”
Victor was laughing. “I feel the same way.” He kissed Andy again. “You still have champagne up here?”
“I do. Are we celebrating?”
“We’re always celebrating. What did you decide to do with your husband?”
“Well,” Andy said, with his mouth close to Victor’s face and his voice at its lowest and silkiest, “I thought about bending him over the back of the chaise. Or letting him bend me over the back of the chaise. Or doing sixty-nine on the chaise. Or reclining like a pasha while he puts his mouth on me.
Or getting my mouth on him and making him say really filthy things.”
“Jesus Christ, Andy.” Every one of those suggestions sounded good to Victor.
“But first, let’s pop a cork.” Andy kissed him again, hard, then let him go.
Twenty minutes later, Victor was on his back on the chaise, naked and close to begging. Andy’s mouth was everywhere except where Victor was desperate for it. “No you don’t,” Andy said. “Hands off.” Victor whimpered.
Andy took another mouthful of champagne and went back to Victor’s chest, letting the bubbles pop against a nipple, feeling his husband buck underneath him. Andy licked up the spillage and smiled, even though he was so turned on himself that the movement of Victor’s hips was nearly enough to send him over.
“You vicious bastard.” It was faint, breathless, half a laugh.
“You want that on your cock?”
“Oh Jesus.” The thought alone had Victor squirming.
“Are you going to come when I do that?”
“Fucking hell.”
Andy picked up his glass, sipped more champagne, set down the glass again and moved up to Victor’s mouth. Kissed him with closed lips, then opened his mouth to share the champagne. Victor’s body was tense beneath his, those hips moving again. Andy took a breath and said, “No. Sorry, catnip. Making you wait. Don’t you move.” He pushed up onto his knees, pinning Victor’s arms and legs with his own hands and feet. “Mother of God,
if the world could see you like this, every fucking body would come.”
Victor was too out of his mind to laugh. He thought if Andy said one more word he’d lose it. “Your mouth.”
He couldn’t wait any more. Had to see it, feel it, taste it. One more mouthful of champagne, and then his mouth on Victor, tight. Andy pinned his thighs down and listened to the desperate profanity until he finally let him move, let the champagne run down, took that climax in his throat and made his own sound of satisfaction.
“Holy fuck.” Victor caught his breath, looked down his body at Andy.
Half on and half off the chaise, slowly releasing Victor, making eye contact.
“Jesus!” That aftershock. Andy sat up a little. “You saved it for me. Get in my mouth.” Victor pried himself off the chaise, pulled the quilt after him, got on his knees. He kept one hand on the seat as Andy moved closer, one knee on the chaise and the other foot on the floor. Rings flashing as he swept his hands through Victor’s hair. “Fuck my mouth, Andy, give it to me.” It didn’t take long.
A few minutes later they were both sitting on the floor, on the quilt, side by side. Refilled glasses in
