A slow, wicked smile grows across his face. "I'm such a bottom."
Something hot and possessive uncurls low in my body. "Perfect. I prefer to top."
"Thank god," he breathes. "Are you negative?"
"Yes, and on Prep. You?"
"Same." His fingers trace the exposed skin of my chest. "Do you have lube and condoms?"
I nod toward my nightstand. "Top drawer."
"Please, can we fuck now?" The words tumble out of him in a rush. "I've wanted to do this for weeks, but didn't know how to say it."
Pausing, I search his face. "Yeah? I've wanted you too." Cupping his face, my thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone. "Even when you were being an asshole."
"Especially when I was being an asshole," he counters, turning to nip at my thumb. "You going to keep talking, or are you going to make good on all the filthy thoughts you've been having about me?"
My answer is to pull him into another kiss, this one deeper, slower. We move toward the bed, shedding clothes along the way. His hands are everywhere, and I can't get enough of his skin against mine.
When we fall onto the mattress together, he laughs, a free, uninhibited sound I've rarely heard from him, and I swallow it with another kiss.
"You know," he says between kisses, working at my belt, "for someone who spends all day at a computer, your body is... fuck." His hands run appreciatively down my chest and abs. "How do you even have time to work out?"
"Stress relief. And I run. What's your excuse? You hiding this body under those hoodies on purpose?"
He blushes. "Don't like attention."
"Could have fooled me." I help him with my belt, then start on his pants. "Given how loud you're about to be."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Cocky."
"You have no idea. But I promise, it's justified."
His eyebrows shoot up at that, but whatever smartass response he's preparing dies the moment my boxers hit the floor.
Caleb's eyes widen as his gaze travels down my body and stops. "Fuck." He's staring. "That's… you're… holy shit."
"Cocky enough for you?" My grin grows. I’m going to wreck him in the best way. Make him feel so damn good he forgets his own name.
Instead of answering, he reaches out and treats me to a firm stroke that has me throwing my head back with a groan.
"Jesus Christ," he murmurs, continuing his exploration. "You're huge."
A flicker of concern crosses my mind. "Too much? We can do something else if you want. I've had guys change their minds before?—"
He cuts me off by pulling me down for another desperate kiss. "Oh no. Your size is just the extra-large bonus to the whole package."
We both laugh, foreheads pressed together, until the humour gives way to something more urgent. I reach for the lube on my nightstand.
"So you know," Caleb says, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, "I'm a very demanding bottom."
"I'm counting on it."
"I mean it," he continues, propping himself up on his elbows. "I'll tell you exactly what I want, how I want it, and I expect results."
Uncapping the lube, my eyes don't leave his. "Always the control freak, huh?"
"Someone has to have standards," he quips, but a vulnerability beneath the bravado that makes my chest ache.Yeah, well. I'm about to exceed every single one of them.
