Top Shelf: A Seacroft Novel Read online

  Martin was still tentative, at first. It was all new, and Seb could tell he was feeling the situation out, even while lust made him brave. Seb kept his mouth open, jaw slack, letting Martin explore, while concentration furrowed between his eyebrows. Eventually, Seb tightened his lips, wrapping them around his teeth and picking up the pace. Martin’s breathing went ragged. Seb sucked, using his hands to pull Martin’s hips back and forth, showing him how far he could go.

  When Martin finally took over, Seb closed his eyes. This was what he wanted. To be used, a little. To give Martin control and pleasure, in the safety of this dark room together. He let Martin fuck his mouth, and he worked his own cock, spurred on by Martin’s heavy breathing and the hot weight of the other man’s dick pressing back against his throat.

  He ached, leaking in his fist. Saliva pooled and spilled over his lips. It was messy and perfect. Seb wished he could tell Martin how perfect it was, but Martin was clearly lost in it now. His hips pumped, and his gaze was glassy, while a flush spread over his collarbones.

  “Oh god,” Martin groaned. Seb wanted to praise him, tell him how amazing he felt. “That’s . . . ” Martin gasped. “That’s good.” His rhythm faltered for a moment and then picked up, harder. Seb choked, but hummed when he could breathe again.

  Martin felt powerful against him. Strong and demanding, and Seb had helped him get there. Seb was so turned on by the idea. He leaked all over his fist, and Martin murmured praise as his spine curled. His head dropped between his arms, his mouth inches from Seb’s head.

  “So good. This is so good. Thank you. You don’t know . . . ” He was babbling. Seb closed his eyes and took it all in. Took everything Martin gave him.

  “That’s—That’s . . . ” Martin made a choked sound, and then he was coming, hot and salty. Seb wrapped his free arm around Martin’s hips, holding him tight in his mouth while he pulled on his own dick in short, rapid strokes. He hummed and swallowed while Martin pulsed in Seb’s mouth, just like he’d asked. Seb’s orgasm ripped out of him, splattering against his belly and the inside of Martin’s thighs. He panted when Martin finally pulled out of his mouth.

  * * *

  They collapsed. Or rather, Martin collapsed, and Seb went with him, wrapping his arms around him. Martin kissed him, tasting himself on Seb’s lips. He wanted to chase it.

  “In the future,” Seb gasped, “there will be lube.”

  Martin laughed, kissing lazy trails on Seb’s skin. He needed to wash off, but he didn’t want to get up. Lightening sparked under his skin. He’d never done anything like that before, and the sight of Seb’s burning gaze while Martin’s cock had disappeared into his mouth would be seared onto his brain forever.

  “So that was good then?” he asked.

  “Unquestionably. But next time, I want to ride you until we both can’t remember our names.”

  Martin groaned. His cock was soft and spent, but the image of that made him want to see if he could revive it quick enough to give that a try tonight.

  Seb traced his fingers along Martin’s spine.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said. Martin couldn’t help the laughter that rumbled out of him, and then he laughed harder when Seb swatted at his shoulder. “Not like that! What are you, fourteen?”

  “You’re welcome.” Martin kissed him before sliding off the bed. He found towels in the adjoining bathroom and did his best to clean himself off, then carried a wet towel out to Seb to do the same.

  Seb was beautiful. Pale and a little freckled.

  “Stay here tonight?” Martin asked, feeling brave. He bent to pick up Seb’s discarded underwear.

  “Kenny was right,” Seb said. Martin froze. He checked over his shoulder as he straightened. Seb sat up on the bed. He’d pulled the comforter and sheet aside, one corner draped over his knee. His grin was lazy and self-assured. Classic Seb.

  Clearing his throat, Martin said, “Right about what?”

  “You have a spectacular ass.”

  Martin slid into the bed and wrapped himself along Seb’s side. He idly played with one of the silver piercings as he situated himself in this new element of their relationship. “What’s tomorrow going to be like?” he said.

  Seb’s hand, which had been making little circles on Martin’s bicep, stilled.

  “More of the same. But different. Everyone will be on their best behavior for the party.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Even me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Even me.” Seb kissed Martin’s forehead.

  “So you all just pretend like nothing happened?”

  “Some will. My mom. Gillian. Parker will be too busy making sure it’s all perfect to get too passive aggressive. Ollie will most likely be hungover, based on the way he was going when I left him, and my dad . . . ” He let out a long sigh. “My dad and I will steer clear of each other and pretend like the other one’s not there.”

  “That’s the plan?” It seemed sad.

  “Well, there was the part where we get our act together and I ride your dick until we both can’t walk.”

  “Maybe we should start with that part. Get everything off on the right foot.”

  Seb kissed him again, then turned onto his side. He shimmied on the mattress until his back was pressed against Martin’s front, and he pulled Martin’s arm around him and held the palm to his chest.

  18

  There was a morning ride, but not the kind Seb hoped for.

  It was outside.

  With Oliver.

  Who pounded on the bedroom door at seven-thirty.

  “Come on, lovebirds! Daylight’s burning.”

  “I hate him,” Seb grumbled. He rolled and snuggled against Martin, rubbing his cheek in the ticklish hair on his chest.

  “You don’t hate him,” Martin said.

  “No,” Seb agreed. “He might be the only one I like.”

  “Come on, Seb! We’re going for a run!” Oliver said.

  “I don’t run!”

  “You used to!”

  Seb cursed and licked a trail between Martin’s nipples, making him shiver.

  He pushed Seb’s head away gently. “Do you have a bike?” Martin asked, loud enough to be heard through the door.

  There was a pause.

  “I can get one. Or two. One for each of you!”

  “Traitor,” Seb said, but Martin was already rolling away from him and walking his fabulous ass to the bathroom.

  The ride was longer and farther than Seb expected. He ached when it was done, and still not in the good way he wanted. Martin, however, appeared to thoroughly enjoy their campus tour and Seb’s narration of his childhood haunts. By the time they got home, his cheeks were flushed and his smile easy.

  They needed a shower. When he suggested it, Martin blushed furiously, which made Seb smile and press him up against the garage wall to kiss him silly. They were both half hard, and Martin’s hands were sliding under Seb’s belt when Oliver reappeared at the garage door with a polite cough and a raised eyebrow.

  “Parker needs help moving some furniture in the living room,” he said.

  “I hate you,” Seb growled as he pulled himself away from Martin.

  “No, you don’t.” Oliver smiled a shit-eating grin at him. “Martin, my dad wants to see you.”

  That stopped them both in their tracks.

  “What about?” Seb asked. Oliver shrugged.

  “I need to shower first,” Martin said.

  “It didn’t sound urgent.”

  “You don’t have to go,” Seb said, but Martin squeezed his hand and smiled.

  “I’m a guest. It would be rude.”

  “Were you there at dinner last night? Ignoring a summons is pretty far down the list as far as rude goes.”

  “I’m sure whatever it is, it won’t take long. I’ll see you soon.” Martin kissed him and disappeared down the hall toward their room.

  Seb followed Oliver through the house.

 
“Did he say what he wanted?” he asked.

  “He asked to see your friend. That’s all he said.”

  Seb gritted his teeth. His friend. His boyfriend, maybe. The man who fucked his mouth in his parents’ guest room. Friends didn’t do that.

  He could go find his dad. Martin would be in the shower. Seb had time to intervene.

  “Oh for goodness’s sake, Jason, put it down before you hurt yourself!” Parker’s voice snagged his attention as they entered the house’s formal living room.

  Jason stood at the table by the window, his hands wrapped around Seb’s gift. His face was pinched like he was passing a kidney stone while he tried to lift it.

  “Put it down!” Seb said.

  “I’ve got it,” Jason said.

  “Put it the fuck down!” Seb strode across the room in three big steps. He’d punch the asshole, only Jason would drop the box and it would shatter.

  Fortunately, his expression was enough for Jason to see he meant business. He paled and stepped aside after he set the box back down gently.

  By the time Seb had relocated the gift where Parker wanted it, and then helped her retie bows on a few dozen chairs in the garden, and then moved the gift again because the original table had been a better idea after all, and then found a garbage bag after one of Parker’s golden retrievers escaped from the room in the basement where they were stashed and collided with a caterer carrying a tray of glasses, and then . . .

  By the time Seb was ready to go find his father and ask him what the hell he wanted with Martin, Martin was standing in the living room. He wore Penny’s suit, although he’d gone for a pale blue shirt instead of the white one. Seb looked forward to peeling him out of it later.

  “You look awesome.” He kissed Martin in greeting, but Martin barely returned it. When he pulled away, Martin was staring dazedly over Seb’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on,” he said. “I have to get changed.”

  Seb took his hand and pulled him gently down the hall. He’d brought his things down to the guest room earlier in the morning while Martin was getting dressed for their impromptu bike ride.

  Martin floated after him silently. He didn’t react when Seb closed the door, or as he pulled the henley he’d worn outside over his head.

  “Okay, seriously.” Seb grabbed his clean shirt from the closet. “You’re making me nervous. What happened?”

  “What happened?” Martin ran a hand over his hair, making it swirl in fluffy patterns off his scalp.

  “Did my dad . . . ” Seb’s pulse kicked up a few notches. Philip was ferocious, a lion in his home. But he wouldn’t say anything outright offensive to Martin. Would he? “What did my dad want?”

  “It’s fine.” Martin waved him away. The subtle vibration coming off of him didn’t stop, though. “He was in his office. Invited me in. Asked about my book again. He—”

  “What?”

  “I think he offered me a job?”

  * * *

  Martin knocked gently on the doorframe. Philip Stevenson sat with his back to him in a heavy leather chair behind a heavier wooden desk.

  “Yes?” He smiled as he turned around in his seat. “Oh good. Oliver found you. Come in!”

  The room was like the library: wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with a veritable collection of European literature.

  “Did you have a good ride? Oliver said you went around the college.”

  “Yes, it was very nice, thank you.”

  “Have a seat.”

  Martin slid into one of the two club chairs across the desk. Having something so formal set up in someone’s home seemed odd, but he supposed if anyone was going to do it, Philip Stevenson was the most likely candidate.

  “How did you like the campus?” Philip said, and Martin frowned. Philip couldn’t have asked him here to talk about this. They could chat about the scenery over cocktails at the party.

  “It was very pretty. Busy today. You could see them setting up for the football game.” He didn’t know much about football, but Philip smiled, so it must have been an appropriately safe answer.

  “Yes, the homecoming game. We always play the team from Hume College. They always lose. It’s how the narrative is supposed to go.”

  “Oh.” Martin hadn’t even given much thought to the narrative of football games.

  “Do you know Edward Scott?” Philip asked.

  The spit in Martin’s mouth dried.

  “I think you know I must.” Edward Scott was the president of Mount Garner College, so anything else Martin could say would be evasive or an outright lie.

  Philip smiled at him, and Martin had the distinct impression he might be a mouse with his tail caught under Philip’s paw. “Edward and I went to college together. I spoke with him last night. I mentioned you were here this weekend with my son.”

  Martin wasn’t sure if Dr. Scott knew he was gay, but it should have been irrelevant, particularly since he was no longer employed by Mount Garner.

  “Edward said it’s been very difficult, what with everything that happened last spring.”

  Martin nodded. To say more would invite the panic rippling along his ribs to spread farther, like it always did when he tried to talk about those last months.

  Except when he’d told Seb. He trusted Seb to keep his secrets and help him when he needed it, and in exchange, Seb had made him feel more powerful than he had in years.

  “According to Edward, you took it especially hard.” Philip’s eyes narrowed. Every inch the predator.

  “As you said, it was a difficult few months.” Despite his growing courage, Martin wished Seb was there to tell his dad to fuck off. He’d do a better job of it than Martin ever could.

  Philip’s smile grew. He was toying with him, but Martin didn’t know what his endgame was. They were strangers for all intents and purposes. Some common colleagues and one horrible dinner barely made them acquaintances.

  “You said you were on sabbatical,” Philip said.

  Ah.

  “I did.”

  “Edward said your time away was a little more permanent than that.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “We all have our moments of . . . ” Philip waved his hand. “Weakness.”

  The word stung.

  “I’m not—”

  “I read your book.” Philip’s change of topic made Martin’s head spin.

  “Oh?”

  “Last night.” Philip shifted in his chair, the first time he’d shown any discomfort. He seemed to catch himself and smoothed a hand over the blotter on his desk. “After that unpleasantness, I had some time on my hands, more time than we’d expected given we’d planned an evening with family. Sebastian and Oliver . . . ” He coughed. “I read your book.”

  “All of it?” It wasn’t an encyclopedia, but he’d like to think it would take more time to get through than a little light bedtime reading would allow.

  “The parts you wrote.” Philip’s smile grew as Martin froze. He was listed as the second author while his thesis supervisor had taken the first place. Martin had regretted it for years afterward. But for Philip to know they had written the chapters separately . . . that was extraordinary.

  “Oh please,” Philip said. “I’ve known Bernard almost as long as I’ve known Edward. You think I can’t recognize his long-winded verbal diarrhea masquerading as historical interpretation? It’s not even analysis. He’s just paraphrasing.”

  Martin shook his head. Not that he disagreed, but criticizing him when he wasn’t there seemed unfair.

  “Your chapters, though.” Philip leaned back in his chair. “Very interesting. One might almost say insightful.”

  Well, don’t hurt yourself with the praise, Martin thought. What he said was, “Thank you.”

  “Edward said you were an astute young man generally. He was sorry to see you go.”

  This time, Martin’s thanks were genuine, if a little bit stammered.

 
Philip smiled, warmer now. “Professor Emeritus, that’s what they call me now. I’m sure Sebastian told you I’ve retired.”

  “He did, sir, yes.” Martin couldn’t help but notice that, even after the night before, Philip still called Seb by his full name.

  “Watersmith was our home for a long time, though. The new dean of the history department, Angela, you’ve met her?”

  “Angela Friedman?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Like everyone, Martin knew of her, but they’d never had a conversation.

  “I could speak to her. If you like. Obviously, Sebastian might not understand, but I know how much work you’ve put into getting as far as you did. It would be a shame to see it end there. There’s a position opening up in the spring. Primarily research, with one course to teach a semester. Officially, we’d have to post it, but Watersmith has always relied heavily on the recommendations of its faculty, both current and . . . ” The lion smiled his toothy smile. “Former. A few good words from me could . . . ”

  * * *

  “Don’t you fucking trust a single thing he says to you.” Seb tugged on his bowtie with such force the whole thing unraveled. He cursed and kicked at the dresser. The mirror behind it rattled. “I knew I should have gone with you.”

  Martin came forward, his hands trembling as he raised them. They were steadier than Seb’s, though, and he had the bowtie redone in seconds. “I told him I had to think about it.”

  “Well, you think yourself into a ‘no.’ He never gives anything freely.”

  “It does seem a little weird, given that we’ve just met.”

  “He’s testing you. It’s what he does. He tests people, looking for weaknesses.”

  “Looking for the sick antelope at the watering hole?” Martin slumped.

  “You’re not an antelope.” Seb leaned in to kiss him. Why the hell were they here again? Kissing Martin would be a much better use of a day than dealing with his dysfunctional family and their perpetual chess game, and it could be done at home.