“Uhh…”
Somerset looked amused as he shifted his grip. He slid his hands up until Dylan’s legs hung over his forearms and Somerset had a grip on the edge of the bar.
“Undo your fly,” he ordered.
Or asked. Dylan wasn’t sure. He was too busy doing it, his fingers suddenly numb as he wrestled with the buttons. Braced against the bar, the muscles in his shoulders clenched in thick, defined groups, Somerset waited.
Dylan finally slid the last metal button out of the way and pushed the denim down over his hips. His cock nudged wet and eager against his stomach as he squirmed. Somerset’s eyes had gone dark, and his jaw clenched as he watched.
“If you’d let the Wolves kill you,” Somerset said in a slow, quiet voice, “the line might still have been broken. Without you to anoint Santa, the watch might just have told time… and even that not very well.”
“That’s… I guess that’s something,” Dylan said.
Somerset stooped over Dylan’s body and feathered teases of kisses over the taut line of his stomach. His tongue lingered in the dip of Dylan’s navel before he looked up again.
“Or maybe it would have worked, and I’d pick a second Santa,” he said. The switch made Dylan shift uneasily. It made him feel very vulnerable, sprawled naked and cock out under a man whose life he’d just ruined.
Even if he’d done it thinking he could still fix it.
The clutch of guilt that caught in the back of Dylan’s throat should have damped his lust. It didn’t. In fact, the bitter taste tangled through the hunger only tightened its grip on him. Somerset’s breath was cool against the kiss-damped streaks on Dylan’s stomach.
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this?” he said.
“I’m glad you ‘re alive,” Somerset said opaquely.
There was a right way to respond to that. Something clever but still tender enough to make him endearing. It was a shame Dylan’s brain had never worked that quickly around Somerset… even when both of them were fully clothed.
Before he could blurt out something stupid, Somerset slid down, the tension played out along lean arms, and ran his cool, wet tongue along the base of Dylan’s cock. It twitched in response, already so hard it hurt in a dull, heavy way, and Dylan groaned as he let his head fall back.
Sparks of cold, shivery pleasure prickled under his skin, like inside-out goosebumps, and made him squirm in reaction. It wrapped itself around his spine and pulled his balls up close to his body.
Dylan swallowed, the noise loud inside his own head, and squirmed restlessly under Somerset’s cool, clever mouth. His tongue traced the raised veins along the underside of Dylan’s cock, from his balls up to the tight, tender head. When he wrapped his mouth around it, it felt like an electric jolt.
Dylan sucked in a ragged breath and pressed his hands flat against the bar, slick and warm under sweaty palms. His nails dug into the polished surface hard enough that he felt the lacquer crack, and he arched his hips up off the bar.
His cock slid deeper into Somerset’s mouth, wet and slick and chilled around him. Dylan squeezed his eyes closed and tried to think about crosswords and what he’d tell everyone tomorrow about disappearing. Anything to throw an anchor around the orgasm he could feel building and just slow it down.
He’d fantasized about this before. Some version of it. None of those daydreams had ended up with him soft at an unexpected moment. He needed to live up to that.
Somerset sucked the length of Dylan’s cock and then let it slip slowly out of his mouth. The air in the bar felt warmer against his skin than Somerset’s mouth.
“That was the last one,” Somerset said.
Dylan opened his eyes and watched Somerset pluck the last berry off the sprig. It popped between his fingers, pulp dripping down onto Dylan’s chest.
“Do you want me to stop?” Somerset asked.
“No,” Dylan said.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Somerset said, his voice cracked with unexpected, possessive hunger. “Say it.”
That was a bad idea. Dylan’s self-protective instincts, a clear little bell of a voice in his head, pointed that out. Even if today had been normal, and this had just been a very unexpected and pointedly mundane hookup, it would still be a bad idea.
It had been a day. Even if he was generous and bundled in any time they’d spent together during his crush on Somerset, it would only add up to a couple of weeks. If that.
That was how you got in over your head.
But today had been anything but normal, and he was already out of depth to start with. It would be stupid to get in any deeper…
