It was a breathy whisper next to the smaller man’s ear and it drove him absolutely mad.
He moaned, pressing Mitt’s body closer to him until they were tight against each other. It was strange, the feeling of another man’s body against his. He’d never had such a sensation before. But, God, it felt so right. Why hadn’t he done this sooner?
Mitt’s fingers found their way under Rick’s sweater vest, beginning to unbutton his shirt, while Rick unclipped the other man’s belt. They kissed passionately, lips locking together, a breath caught between them until they broke apart in a sound that was halfway between an expletive and a moan.
Rick seized this opportunity to voice his mind. “This … is so against God and … everything else I believe in.”
“I know,” Mitt sighed, leaning their temples together. “I-I’m sorry. Do you want to stop? We can pretend this … This never happened.” The regret in his voice was obvious.
Rick swallowed, still tasting the other man on his tongue. “Yes. Yes, we should … we have to stop.”
They spent a moment looking at each other, then their lips met once again and their fingers resumed their activity, more eager than before.
Mitt separated the other man’s legs with one of his thighs, pressing their bodies tight together and chuckling at the brush of stiffness against his leg. He had waited far too long for this, had wanted the man ever since he first met him. Now he had him. Now he was going to have him and he was absolutely desperate for it.
A whimper escaped the Rick’s mouth. “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes, Mitt, please.”
The taller man stripped Rick of his vest and shirt, tracing the soft skin underneath with rough, callused fingers. His touch made the other man shudder with pleasure.
“Mitt,” he whispered. “What if someone finds out? Our wives? Our families? What then?”
“We’ll jump that hurdle when we come to it,” Mitt said. “I can bluff us through, Rick, I promise.”
“But … God, Mitt, I’ve never been any good at lying.” A crease formed between the smaller man’s eyebrows. “The shame, Mitt. There would be so much sh-“
“Shhh…” Mitt cut him off, silencing him with his lips.
Rick slid an unsteady hand up to curl in the other man’s hair, holding him where their lips greedily sucked and bit, breathing each other in. Mitt’s hot fingers found their way into Rick’s pants. The smaller man let out a strangled cry of surprise and pleasure, his face flushed. Mitt grew insistent, hands grabbing and lips pressing tight to the smaller man’s, desperate and determined to make Rick his, only his.
“Mine,” he muttered. “My Rick, mine.”
And that was all he needed to hear.
Rick limped into the meeting the next morning absolutely aching. His body was sore in countless awkward places, and the pleasure of the ache made him uncomfortable in front of his supporters and coworkers. He sat down, slumping from exhaustion. What a night it had been!
Mitt passed him, slipping a note down into his hand. Rick turned his head slightly to track the man’s movement. Mitt was unmistakably tired, but he also clearly had a spring in his step.
Rick surreptitiously opened the note.