A little bit later, a man a bit older than Harry looked over at him and gave him a friendly wave and Bob half-heartedly returned it, thinking that the man was just being nice, but then the man waved him closer.
He was only a few seats away, and Harry would be a while, if the mass of people heading in the same direction Harry had gone was any indication, so he made his way over.
He might as well learn to meet new people.
“Hi, my name’s Paul, pleased to meet you…?”
“Bob,” he supplied.
Paul then smiled and said, “Good to hear someone else from the mother country is here. Thought I was the only Brit in the crowd.”
Bob then realized that, yes, the man had a distinctive British accent. He had brown eyes, though they were slightly darker than Harry’s, and though he had brown hair a touch of gray lingered at his temples, giving the man a distinguished older look that suited him.
Not realizing that Paul was giving him a once over with his eyes, Bob shook the man’s hand and gave him a wide smile.
“No, you’re not alone. Though, I didn’t come here of my own volition. My, uh, friend got us tickets. This is the first time I’ve ever even heard the man sing, I’m afraid.”
Paul simply shrugged.
“No crime in that. So…who’d you come with?”
“My friend, Harry. He thought that I would enjoy it.”
“So, are you? Enjoying it, I mean?”
Bob shrugged, unsure of how to respond. He wasn’t hating the experience, but he knew that the main reason that he wasn’t hating it was because of the fact that Harry was here with him. Had he come alone, he wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun…of course, he knew that he would have never come alone.
Paul simply let out a chuckle, and then continued their conversation, most of it one-sided, and then, just as before, Harry saw them.
At seeing Bob talking to the guy he felt another stab of jealousy.
What was it with Bob and meeting new people who felt as though they had to flirt with him? Even though it was a guy, it was obvious to Harry that he was flirting with Bob, and he didn’t like it…not one little bit. So, he was going to do what someone in his position was supposed to do…
…Stake his claim.
Feeling bold, with his hackles risen, he strode over to Bob and pressed firm fingers against Bob’s lower back as he gave the ex-ghost his second beer, his fingers deliberately lingering over Bob’s, and Harry locked eyes with him and smiled…and then, and only then, did he acknowledge the presence of the other man.
“Hi,” Harry said, trying to be as genuine as possible. “I’m Harry.”
The man nodded and shook Harry’s proffered hand.
“Pleased to meet you. My name’s Paul.”
Harry squeezed slightly harder than he normally did and was inwardly proud of himself when he saw the man wince just slightly before pulling back from the handshake.
So, maybe he was coming off a little strong. It was still better than not being noticed at all. He was going to let Paul know that Bob was his, and no one else’s…and then he saw Paul give him a slight nod and a faint smile.
Yeah, he got the message.
Harry and Bob said a quick goodbye and walked back over to their seats, beers in hand.
This time, Bob did notice Harry’s actions and he felt himself flush. Not with embarrassment, but with the fact that he was slightly turned on by how territorial he had become. Was Harry, possibly, just as interested in Bob as he was in Harry?
Deciding to be daring, he tested his theory by leaning in slightly and pressing his left hand against Harry’s side and saying into his ear, “Don’t worry, Harry…I’m not going anywhere.”
Harry turned his head to give him a look and suddenly found his lips only centimeters from Bob’s.
He didn’t know what to do, but was beyond pleased when Bob closed the inches between them and leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. It was probably only meant to be a brief kiss, but at the touch of the other man’s lips on his own, he gave into his urge and pressed the kiss even further, barely aware of the roaring of the crowd around them as Johnny Steele started back up again.
God…he tasted good.
It was better than Harry had ever imagined, and he had a pretty vivid imagination, mind you.
Their tongues tangled, each of them trying to take in as much of the other as possible. Bob let out a low groan as he tasted the inside of his wizard’s mouth. Harry was spices, candles, and woodsmoke, with the faintest hint of electricity that played on his nerves, shutting down all logical parts of his brain.
Harry, too, was just as enraptured, his left hand sliding around Bob’s waist and tucking his lower body against the older wizard’s.
Bob was mountain stone, rain, and…something else that he couldn’t identify, but it left a faintly warm, settled feeling in his senses, something like…ozone. That’s what it was. The scent and taste of an oncoming storm.
Bob reciprocated Harry’s action, and slid his own left hand around the younger man’s waist, enjoying the sensations as he tilted his head slightly and delved just slightly deeper between his wizard’s lips. Good lord, kissing Harry was delightfully sinful, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to drag him back to the car and force him to drive the two of them back to their place as soon as possible. Thoughts of having Harry strewn out on a bed beneath him were filling his head with heady images, and he decided to act on his instinct.
Bob pulled back from the kiss and took a moment to look at Harry and was enraptured.
Face flushed, lips slightly bruised, eyes dazed, practically black as they were fully dilated...lord, what a picture.
All it did was harden his resolve, and he grabbed Harry’s wrist and dragged him through the crowd, Harry not protesting in the least, the same exact thoughts in his mind, eager to get home and get the older wizard completely at his mercy.
As Harry drove the two of them home, Bob’s hand reached over and was firmly kneading along Harry’s thigh.
He drew in a sharp breath at the sensation and then looked over at him.
Bob’s usually perfect hair was slightly mussed, his lips looked well kissed, and the top few buttons of his black and red shirt had come undone, showing off the sheen of sweat that lingered over the necromancer’s skin. From the way he was sitting, the snug fit of the jeans showed Harry that he had been just as affected by their kiss as he had.
He then hissed as Bob’s hand moved up along his thigh and palmed him through the fabric of the jeans.
Bob gave him a devilish grin and then said in that low, promising voice of his…
“Hurry home, Harry.”
He never had driven faster in his life.
As soon as they made it back to the apartment, they’d gone straight upstairs. The instant Bob threw him back on the mattress, he stripped him of his boots and coat and whispered in Harry’s ear, “You need to wear those more often, Harry,” and then Harry heard Bob’s boots and coat hit the floor, and he thought to himself, Boots and leather…it works every time…
There wasn’t much talking after that.