Jared fixed himself a drink, head bopping along to the familiar beat of blaring hip-hop music. It was warm inside the house, despite the almost freezing temperature outside. Not that any of his female peers seemed to have dressed for the weather. Short skirts were everywhere, summer dresses or more fancy gowns. Some girls were wearing bleached denim short shorts, or white jeans, or very short skirts. Most of them were in heels, despite being inside.
Jared didn’t get girls. Never had. Never had any inclination to try to figure them out.
He went back to the boy who he’d started to feel comfortable around, drink in hand.
“Have you seen Mia?” Jared asked, murmuring his question close to Adam’s neck. She was the only one of his friends Jared hadn’t caught up with tonight.
“She’s doing something, apparently. She’s on her way.”
Jared nodded and put his left hand on Adam’s left hip, standing behind him but close. Close enough to smell the spicy, rich cologne on Adam’s skin, the perfect complement to the natural musk underneath that was all Adam. He wore designer clothes like he’d been born to slip into them, which Jared supposed he had. The knitted sweater was soft under Jared’s exploring fingers, and the pants were almost certainly more comfortable than the cheap pair Jared had picked up from H&M.
Adam leaned back, tilted his head up, and caught Jared’s bottom lip between both of his—their first public kiss. Even though it was a slack-mouthed, lazy sort of kiss rather than anything gloriously intimate, Jared didn’t miss the significance of it. Neither did anyone else in the room, even if they were all looking in other directions when Jared looked up again.
Biggie certainly knew how to throw a party, and by midnight the house was swinging. Jared had walked in on three different couples fucking; by the third time, he made sure he was seen and gave the guy a filthy look before slamming the pantry door. He wasn’t sure what he’d even gone in there for.
Right. More limes.
Body shots.
Apparently it was happening. Jared was just drunk enough to agree to it, sober enough to enjoy it. Through the evening, the living room where Chris held court had turned into a sweaty, writhing party space, the tunes blaring out of his imported speakers, the girls dancing and the guys plying them with drinks to make them wilder, higher, sexier. Not to Jared. Or Adam.
Their domain was the kitchen and the dining room where things were more chilled and a lot more sensual. Here, couples came to steal a seat and grind on each other, eat face, or both. The music was more R. Kelly and Bobby Brown than 2Pac and Puff Daddy. Still rocking the ’90’s vibe, of course.
In the dining room, the suggestion of body shots had gone down well, and a few girls had already stripped their tops off, balanced shot glasses of tequila between their breasts, and trailed a line of salt along their tanned, toned abdomens.
“Get on the fuckin’ table,” Adam said as Jared wandered into the room empty-handed.
Jared grinned and unbuttoned his shirt slowly, not surprised to find only three buttons still done up. People had been sporadically undressing him all evening.
He left the shirt hanging off his broad shoulders and hoisted himself up onto the Wallace’s teak dining table, elegantly carved with inlaid pattern. There wasn’t anything on him that was going to leave a mark on the polished surface of the table, so he wasn’t concerned about that.
One of the girls—Ryder—took the salt shaker and made a line with it along his treasure trail, dipping into his belly button, then up a little farther.
“Lie back,” she ordered, then balanced a shot of clear liquor between his hard pectorals. A slice of lime, rind side down, was pressed between his lips, and he was all set.
The sharp tang of the lime stung his nostrils as Adam hauled himself up onto the table to crawl sensuously up Jared’s body, his eyes intense.
Around them, friends and classmates hooted and whistled, catcalling as Adam detoured to bite at the sharp ridges of Jared’s hipbones. He wet his bottom lip, then licked up the salt in a long, sensuous swipe. Jared trembled, felt his cock throb in his pants as Adam kept going, picking up the shot glass between his teeth and knocking the liquor back, then tossing the empty glass aside. Finally, he bit down on the wedge of lime between Jared’s lips, their erections mashed together now, neither of them trying to hide their arousal.
A tiny trickle escaped the lime and slid between Jared’s lips, the tart juice stinging his already raw taste buds. Adam sucked the lime, shuddered, then spat it out on the table. They regarded each other for a moment, faces only inches away from each other, then Adam pressed his lips to Jared’s hard, possessively, tongue immediately stealing inside.
The gathered crowd hooted and yelled, and Adam rocked his hips back and forth, back and forth, grinding hard cocks together.
“Holy shit,” Ryder murmured. She sat cross-legged on the table next to them, and it was her startled words that made Adam break away.
He licked his lips and grinned, then rolled off the table, extending a hand to Jared to pull him up too.
They ignored the crowd (a girl was already crawling onto the table, ready to be loaded up with Ryder’s bounty, stripped to her see-through lace bra) and walked out of the house to the front porch.
The cold was like a slap in the face, but Jared had made sure to fill a hip flask with
