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It’s not like it’s the first time. Late and show-high, not yet falling into the come-down, playing off each other’s adrenaline. It’s not like it’s the first time, melting into each other before they even realize, not sure at what point it’d become just the two of them, at what point the house lights had come on and everyone else had filtered out and took everything else with them, peeling away all of the outside world, layer by layer.
He’s not sure when they left for the hotel or if they ever stopped touching in the time it took to get there. And even that–it’s far from the first time.
The thing with Anthony, though, is that he likes to tiptoe on the line; he likes to push. He’ll do it first and apologize later, if he has to (he never has to).
“You’re so cute,” he tells Geoff. Which isn’t new in itself, either. He just keeps saying it. Keeps leaning into the cute thing. And Geoff isn’t bothered by this, to be clear. He feels it when Anthony calls him that–and especially when Anthony calls him that in between hard kisses, settled between Geoff’s legs, leaning him back into the pillows–so he’s not really in a position to complain whatsoever. And he’s not complaining. He’s just noticing.
“You keep calling me that,” Geoff says.
Anthony smiles at him. Even in the dark his eyes are downright frenetic, pupils so wide there’s hardly any room for the hypnotizing blue.
A hand on Geoff’s knee, firm; its warmth where they’re skin-to-skin, both half-undressed.
“Do you like it when I call you that?” he asks. He doesn’t make any real movements, just sweeps his thumb lightly, back and forth, and waits for an answer.
Geoff nods.
Anthony leans in even closer into Geoff, close enough to share breath, and his hand drifts just a few inches further up Geoff’s thigh.
“You like being my cute baby boy?”
He keeps their eyes locked.
“Yes,” Geoff says. His hands find Anthony’s shoulders, and he holds tight, locking him there.
Still looking at him with all of that magnetizing intensity, Anthony says, “then what do you call me?”
And Geoff understands, and he likes the thought of it. A lot. But he doesn’t say it. It's like it won’t come out in case it’s too much. In case he does something wrong.
In case.
“You want to?” Anthony asks.
And yeah, yeah, he does, so he nods, stupidly, feels his knees twitch with whatever falls between want and embarrassment. Or, probably, the way that they compound each other. Anthony just looks, expectantly. Just waits.
“Daddy,” he says, quiet.
“Good boy,” Anthony says. “That’s it, my good baby boy.”
He kisses Geoff harder, then. Teeth first and then softening, licking into his mouth, hot and wet and open. The hand teasing at Geoff’s thigh moves to the waistband of his boxers, thumb dipping inside.
“You'll let Daddy take care of you?” Anthony asks, but it isn't really much of a question. And Geoff had never thought about it–not like that, not so overtly–but he's very, very okay with being taken care of, letting Anthony take the reins so he can just comply, just feel.
And Geoff decides to be pliable, tilts his hips up when Anthony goes to slide his boxers off. He lifts his arms to let Anthony get him out of his t-shirt.
“You look so good, baby boy,” Anthony says. He pushes Geoff’s knees apart just a little wider and then kisses up the inside of his thigh, soft and slow and gentle like it usually wouldn’t be, like he’s playing up the taking care of role, which has Geoff feeling stupidly turned on and stupid, in general.
Anthony hooks Geoff’s knees over his shoulders and the kissing turns into flat, wide licks at his hole. Geoff gasps. His hips twitch up, and Anthony’s hands come to rest at his hip bones, steadying him. His tongue presses inside and he fucks him like that, and then deeper and wetter and messier, making out with his hole and Geoff doesn’t know what he needs, just that he needs.
Anthony pulls away and Geoff whines because whatever he needs it’s not that, it’s not less of Anthony. Anthony shushes him, though, and kisses him in that same way that’s so chaste it somehow feels dirtier for it.
“Need you,” Geoff tells him.
“I’ve got you, baby boy.”
He steps away and comes back undressed, too. Geoff always likes getting to take in the sight of him, all of him, the muscles in his chest and his arms and how they move and his hands and their possessiveness.
How good he looks stroking his cock, too, slicking it up, getting himself ready. Lifting Geoff’s legs so that they come to rest around his waist and then lining his cock up with Geoff’s hole, pushing in.
That’s exactly what Geoff needed.
He starts with slow thrusts, barely enough. And then not enough, too gentle and easy, more teasing than anything. Geoff’s hands find Anthony’s forearms, and his nails dig in like that will do the asking for him. That doesn’t cut it for Anthony.
“Tell me,” he says.
“Please, more,” he tries.
Anthony just hums. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t change pace, so that didn’t suffice either.
“Please, Daddy,” Geoff says, and he doesn’t quite understand why it makes his cock twitch and his toes curl, but he can tell Anthony likes it just as much from the way that that’s all it takes for him to fuck into him harder, grab his hips firm and pull him back onto his cock.
“You’re so good, baby,” he tells Geoff. “You feel so good.”
Geoff thinks he likes feeling dumb like this maybe too much. Likes getting told he’s doing good for getting held down and fucked and used however Anthony wants to use him. He thinks it’s probably wrong that it feels so good like this. That he likes the wrongness of it, too.
Anthony says, “Daddy will take care of you whenever you need,” and at the same time he wraps a hand around Geoff’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
Geoff feels his jaw go slack, and he’s sure he looks just as stupid as he feels. He gasps every time Anthony fucks into him, the neediness and desperation getting close to topping out.
“Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come for Daddy?” Anthony says, which is what pushes Geoff over the edge, coming so hard his eyes roll back.
It doesn’t take long for Anthony to follow, relentless while he chases his orgasm, his grip on Geoff’s hips bruising until he’s done filling him up, riding it out and then pulling his cock out.
He kisses Geoff before either of them have really had time to catch their breath properly.
Geoff doesn’t really know what to say–or really even know how to feel, except hazy and good. He just lets Anthony tangle their limbs together and rests his head on his chest, lets Anthony run his fingers through his hair and whisper him praises until he drifts off, slow and contented.