Chapter 5
Never before had Ford experienced a convergence of so many conflicting emotions. Seeing Trevor Moga triggered the memory of the time they’d spent together, one he had played over and over in his mind. Trevor aroused Ford, made him happy, and fascinated him. But as those feelings washed over him, Ford stood in a room filled with people who could and would use any shortcoming against him, and the man approaching him knew his biggest vulnerability. That terrified Ford, which in turn made him feel guilty about not trusting Trevor and ashamed at his failure to have made any progress toward resolving his own issues.
Unable to think or breathe enough to react, Ford remained rooted to his spot and stared at Trevor as he walked up to John Rabe. He noticed Trevor’s happy smile, his dimples, his eyes, which looked brown in that light but Ford knew were actually a smoky blue, and the regal way he filled out his suit. As the others in the group began introducing themselves, Ford braced himself for an uncomfortable situation, but when Trevor shook his hand and spoke to him, he gave no indication of them knowing each other. The familiarity in his touch and expression were too subtle for anyone else to pick up but they were enough for Ford to notice, same with the unspoken invitation to join Trevor in his hotel room.
As Trevor walked away, Ford thought over his options. Not only had sex with Trevor been outstanding, but Ford had felt at ease with him in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. Another night of laughing and talking with Trevor Moga was too enticing to pass up.
“Fred, Peter, it was nice seeing you again.” Ford shook hands with the men nearest him. “Beth, it was good meeting you. I admire Robson’s work and I’m sure we’ll come across each other again.” After shaking Beth’s hand, he continued his goodbyes and then walked away from the group.
He had taken the Metro to the event and planned to take an Uber home, but he’d seen the valet line when he walked in so he knew where to find Trevor. With his mind focused on catching up with Trevor before he got to his car, Ford didn’t think through the consequences of publicly approaching him or, worse, driving off with him. He was shrugging into his coat and rushing out the door when that concern took root.
As he stumbled to a stop, he looked up and saw Trevor. He was standing outside a silver car, handing money to the valet, but his gaze was focused on Ford. If he wanted to spend time with the sexiest, most intelligent man he’d ever met, Ford had to make his feet move. But if he got into Trevor Moga’s car, word would get out, and what excuse could a single, male Republican congressman have for driving off alone with the Democratic president’s also single, openly gay son?
While Ford batted the situation around in his head, Trevor caught his eye and subtly looked over to the side. He followed Trevor’s gaze and saw that the sidewalk cleared a few dozen feet to the east. The convention center lights didn’t reach far beyond that, so darkness enveloped the space. With a dip of his chin, Ford stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and walked away from the crowd and into the night. He pulled his phone out to check his messages and was surprised to see a text from Trevor.
“Need a lift?”
Ford jerked his head to the side and saw that Trevor had pulled up. He was leaning over the center console, pushing the car door open. The good-natured smile that had attracted Ford the first night they’d met was spread across his face.
“I just happen to be heading your way,” he said.
Ford quickly looked around, confirmed that nobody was watching him, and then stepped up to the car.
“Is that right?” Ford climbed in and grinned, Trevor’s happiness contagious. “And how pray tell do you know where I’m heading, Mister Moga? Also, how did you get my number?” He held up his phone. “It’s a private line.”
“I have connections.” Trevor pulled onto the road.
“Did they give you my schedule too?”
“No. Just your number. Running into you here was pure luck.”
Ford couldn’t argue with that assessment. He was feeling incredibly lucky at the moment.
“And I don’t need any special connections to figure out where you’re going next,” Trevor said. “That one’s easy.”
“Please enlighten me.” Ford played along.
“Well, you’ve been at a fundraising reception. That means semi-edible finger foods calculated to feed approximately thirty-three percent of the people in the room and enough liquor to paralyze the same number of elephants. Ergo, you’re hungry.”
“Both true statements,” Ford conceded, trying to keep a straight face. “But neither of them relate to my destination.”
“Ah, but I’m not done yet.”
“I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“You live alone and the House has been in session all week so you probably haven’t had time to cook or shop. That means your pantry is empty and you’ve already made your way through any leftovers that haven’t developed unknown growths.”
Chuckling, Ford said, “Right again. I’m hungry and I don’t have food at home. But that could mean I’m going grocery shopping or picking up takeout or meeting someone for dinner.”
“It could.” Trevor nodded. “But you’re too tired to cook right now, you haven’t placed a takeout order yet, and the last thing you want to do is stand around a crowded restaurant waiting for them to make your food.”
“What about the meeting someone out for dinner option?”
“It’s after nine on a Thursday. Everyone’s already eaten.”
“Everyone?”
“Almost everyone.” Trevor shrugged and turned the corner. “And even if I’m wrong about that, I’m the one driving. That makes me the chooser of your destination.”
Throwing his head back, Ford laughed. “There you have it. The ultimate trump card. So, tell me where I’m going.”
“Eventually, a room at the Jefferson hotel where we can order room service. If you want to stop at home first to pack a bag, I can swing by there but”—Trevor turned his head to the side and dragged his gaze up and down Ford’s body—“you won’t need clothes for what I have planned, and if you get chilly in between rounds, you can wear one of their robes.”
Being in the same car with Trevor—hearing his deep voice, looking at his handsome face, inhaling his scent—had been enough to arouse Ford. The reminder of what they’d do together had his heart racing, breath catching, and dick hardening.
“Are you going to ask me what I have planned?” Trevor asked, his tone lower, huskier.
“I…” Ford’s voice cracked so he cleared his throat. “I think I can figure it out.”
Clamping his hand on top of Ford’s leg, Trevor said, “You’re a smart man so I’m sure you have a good idea.” He squeezed and caressed, slowly sliding up Ford’s thigh. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Ford asked breathlessly.
“Tell me what we’re going to do in that hotel room, Ford.”
“I…” Ford’s throat thickened along with his cock. He wondered if he could come in his pants just from listening to Trevor talk. Of course, if Trevor moved his hand much higher, there’d be more than talking going on.
“Want me to go first?” Trevor cupped Ford’s balls and dragged his fingers over them.
“Oh Lord.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Trevor put both hands on the wheel and looked at the road. “It’s hard to choose but I think what I want more than anything is to lick your ass again.”
Ford’s muscles tightened and he gasped for air.
“I usually stay with my parents when I’m in DC, so I haven’t been in a room at the Jefferson.” He glanced at Ford. “Have you?”
“No.” Ford shook his head. “I, uh, I don’t think so.”
“Too bad. It’s hard to plan out the details without knowing what kind of bed they have.”
Unable to resist Trevor’s game, Ford asked, “Why does the bed type matter?”
“Well, if the headboard’s the right height, you can hold onto it while you kneel above me and sit on my face.”
With a whimper, Ford reached for his own groin and squeezed the base of his dick.
“You going to come from that?” Trevor asked, pitching his voice so low Ford could barely hear him. “Riding me, my tongue in your ass, maybe my thumbs too.”
“Trevor,” Ford begged. “I don’t want to go off in my pants. Please.”
“You worried about making a mess?” Trevor reached for his own tie, tugged it loose, and then yanked it over his head. “Get your dick out, Ford.”
“We’re driving.”
“I’m driving. You’re sitting. It’s dark. The windows are tinted. If we need to pull over, you’ll have plenty of time to tuck yourself away.” He flicked his gaze toward Ford, his eyes sizzling. “Open your pants and take out your dick.”
The safe, logical, responsible part of Ford knew he should refuse. But he reached for his belt anyway, then his button, and his zipper. He fished his cock out through the opening in his boxer briefs and looked at Trevor, waiting to hear his next instruction and refusing to think about why that turned him on.
“Gorgeous.” Trevor stared at Ford’s groin and licked his lips. “I want that in my mouth later.” He sighed and then refocused on the road. “But for now, slide this over your dick.” He thrust his tie at Ford.
Instinctively, Ford reached for it. “You want me to…” He slid his thumb and forefinger over the smooth fabric, unable to say the words. “With this?”
“It’s silk.” Trevor glanced at him and grinned. “Anything that feels that good on your fingers, has to feel better on your balls.” He reached for Ford’s hand and pushed it down. “Go on. Jerk yourself off with it.”
“This is probably really expensive and I don’t think you’ll be able to get semen out of it.”
“Who says I want it out?” Trevor kept lowering Ford’s hand until the silky fabric tickled his shaft and testicles, then he spun the tie around Ford’s erection. “Maybe I want to take it home with me and smell it when I get myself off.”
Every word Trevor uttered seemed designed to drive Ford out of his mind. His balls drew up and early seed seeped from his slit.
“Do you think I’ll still be able to smell you?” Trevor asked.
Moaning, Ford gave in to his need and began moving his hand up and down, causing the silk to slide over his sensitive shaft.
“I’ve thought about that a lot since that night in January. Your scent.” Trevor dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “Your taste.”
As Ford moved his fist faster and faster, the fabric warmed and his cock throbbed.
“The way you grunt when you’re filling my hole and the way you cry out when I’m filling yours.”
“Trevor,” Ford whispered as pleasure swamped him and hot cream pulsed from his dick. He kept stroking, emptying himself over the tie as he gasped and shook, the orgasm going on and on. By the time he was spent, his eyes were closed, his hands trembled, he couldn’t feel his legs, and his breath came out in short gasps.
“You’re a gorgeous man, Ford Hollingsworth.” Trevor inhaled deeply. “And you smell amazing.”
Ford blinked his eyes open and rolled his head to the side. “And you’re completely irresistible.”
“I’m glad to hear that because we’re here and I need to get naked with you.”
The orgasm must have rattled Ford’s brain because he had difficulty following the conversation.
“We’re at the hotel.” Trevor tilted his chin toward the windshield.
Squinting outside, Ford saw the dark awning of the Jefferson hotel in front of them. They were pulled over next to the curb a few dozen feet from the entry to the cobbled circular drive.
“Much as I love looking at your dick, I didn’t figure you’d want to give the valet a show, so I thought I’d give you a minute to put yourself back together.”
“Thank you.” Ford’s neck and ears heated as he scrambled to fasten his pants. Seeing the tie still wrapped around his dick slowed him down.
“I’ll take that.” Trevor reached into his lap, took hold of one end of the tie, and slowly pulled it away, creating a teasing caress of silk against Ford’s still sensitive flesh.
“You’re so sexual.” Ford stared at him, then shook his head to clear it and began putting his pants to rights. “It’s so different from how you are in public.”
“You see me in public a lot?”
Now Ford was embarrassed for a different reason. “That’s one of those things I wasn’t supposed to say out loud.”
Trevor laughed. “In your line of work, you better get that honesty filter dialed way down. But only with other people.” He arched his eyebrows. “Tell me what has your face turning red.”
“It’s too dark for you to see my face that well.”
“Consider it an educated guess.”
Sighing, Ford leaned his head against the seatback. “I Googled you.” It was surprisingly easy to admit that to Trevor. Being open with him came naturally. “I did it quite a few times, actually.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”
“You could have called,” Trevor said softly.
“I was still figuring things out.” Or avoiding the task of figuring things out.
Ford braced himself for Trevor to push the topic, but instead he reached over, squeezed his knee, and said, “Okay,” letting the matter go.
That simple acceptance was one of the many things Ford liked about him. On paper, being with Trevor Moga should have been stressful and dangerous, but in reality, it was easier than being with anyone else. Maybe even easier than being alone because Trevor’s lightheartedness rescued Ford from getting trapped in his own head.
“Let’s just hope nobody tracks your browsing history.”
Though the comment was said in a joking tone, it was something Ford had taken seriously.
“I made sure to use the incognito setting when I did it.”
Trevor laughed and then stared at Ford and cleared his throat. “That setting takes care of a trail on your computer but the websites you visit can still see your IP address, and if you’re online at work, the network can track it.”
“Really?” Ford thought about how many times he’d looked at pictures of Trevor. There was one in particular he’d gone to dozens of times. It was a New York Times article about public schools. Trevor was sitting in a high school classroom, surrounded by students, talking about the future of technology and opportunities for careers. He was smiling, relaxed, in his element. He was gorgeous.
“Hey, don’t worry.” Apparently taking Ford’s silence for concern, Trevor rubbed his shoulder and looked at him sympathetically. “I get Googled a lot. If anyone tracks it, they’ll probably think you’re doing research to hit me up for money or figure out how to beat the enemy. It’s not like you were browsing fetish porn.” He paused. “You don’t browse fetish porn, do you? And if you do, what fetishes? ’Cause I want to make a checklist.”
“I don’t look at pornography!” Ford denied.
“At work,” Trevor clarified.
“No, at all.”
Trevor arched his eyebrows disbelievingly.
“I don’t!” Pictures of sweaty men playing sports didn’t count. Neither did GQ magazine. Those things were available to anyone. “And what do you mean fetish porn? I’m not some sicko.”
“Aww, honey.” Trevor looked at him sympathetically. “Having fetishes or checking out some porn now and again isn’t sick.”
Having heard the exact opposite of that comment all his life, Ford snapped his mouth shut and blinked. Was Trevor right? If the people making and watching those movies were willing adults, was he being judgmental by calling it sick? And what business of his was it if people had fetishes? It didn’t impact him unless he was sleeping with them.
“Wait,” Ford said. “Do you have fetishes?”
Trevor opened his eyes comically wide. “Why? What have you heard?”
For a moment, Ford thought he’d hit upon a dark secret, but then the familiar smile spread across Trevor’s face and he chuckled.
“Gotcha! No fetishes yet, but who knows?” Trevor turned back toward the front of the car and put his hand on the gearshift. “The night is young. Maybe we’ll discover something new.”
Not sure whether to laugh, worry, or get turned on, Ford shook his head and looked forward. Suddenly, the logistics of what he was about to do registered.
“Trevor.” He grabbed Trevor’s arm. “Wait. We can’t walk into a hotel together. Someone might recognize me and they’ll definitely know who you are and then…” He couldn’t finish that sentence without being insulting. How could he justify sleeping with a man but being unwilling to be seen with him? The answer was he couldn’t, not to Trevor and not to himself.
“How about you get out of the car here, I’ll check in, and then I’ll text you the room details? You can come in separately and keep your head down.”
“That’s it?” Ford asked in surprise. “You’re not mad?”
Drawing his eyebrows together, Trevor said, “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know.” Ford sucked in a deep breath. “I thought maybe you’d feel like I was ashamed of you.”
Trevor smiled at him, but it was soft, almost sad, nothing like his usual gregarious grin. “I know it’s not me you’re ashamed of.” He reached across the console, cupped Ford’s cheek, and rubbed his thumb back and forth across it. “And, actually, I’m hoping it’s more self-preservation than shame.”
“It is.” Ford licked his lips and looked out the window. “Self-preservation has to do with what other people think. Shame would mean I feel bad about being with you and I don’t.” Although he did feel bad about the sneaking around, the hiding. It devalued an intimacy he had been taught to treasure.
“Don’t look so morose.” Trevor’s lips curled up. “The one value everyone in this city can agree on is self-preservation. That means you’re in…well, I’m not going to say good company, but you’re definitely not alone.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly cynical?”
“When it comes to politics?” Trevor dipped his chin. “More times than I can count and that’s really saying something because I’m exceptionally good at math.” He tilted his head to the side and raised one eyebrow. “For example, right now, I’m calculating how long it’ll take us to get to our room, the hours left in the day, and an ambitious recovery rate, and what I’ve determined is that if we get a move on, we can fit in a couple orgasms apiece before we pass out.”