They tumbled onto the mattress,bodies still damp from a shower that had gotten them far dirtier than clean. There’d been no discussion about this dramatic shift in their dynamic, nor about where he would sleep that night. Evan hadn’t given him a choice, and he hadn’t argued. Hadn’t wanted to.
They also hadn’t discussed whether sleep was actually occurring, and he wasn’t arguing about that, either. Lord, it had been a long,longtime since he’d been with a man who liquefied both his brain and body. This was the purest catnip, and he could already feel an addiction forming.
Evan pinned him back and Heath arched into him, moaning like the shameless hussy he’d always wanted to be. The man kissed with his whole body. One hand in Heath’s hair, the other gripping his hip or ass—whatever he could reach. The soft caress of his lips and tongue followed every scrape of teeth, easing the sting and building the delirium.
They made out like teenagers, tasting and petting one another until Heath reached the fraying edges of his control. God, his fantasies had been paltry compared to the real thing. He’d never expected… well, he hadn’t exactly expected he’d be in this position at all, but he definitely wouldn’t have thought Evan would be so relaxed about it. It begged the question—how far would he let things go?
Testing the boundaries, he grabbed the ass of his dreams and gave it a hard squeeze, earning a growl and thrust that shot his ego to the moon, so he did it again.
“Fucking killing me,” Evan muttered, breaking the kiss to cover his neck in demanding licks and bites.
If he gives me a hickey, I’m having it tattooed and throwing away all my turtlenecks.
“What’s out of bounds?” Heath asked in someone else’s voice. Someone who smoked Pall Malls and drank rotgut from a jug.
“Nothing.”
He waited for the slice of a scythe, certain the Grim Reaper would momentarily appear, because he’d surely just had an aneurysm. There was no way Evan was giving him carte blanche of his body barely an hour after his first experience with another man.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
Christ, this man. Eyes dark and shimmery, with sparkling flecks of golden green around pupils like dinner plates. A light flush bloomed across his freckled cheeks and chest.
“You…” Heath dropped his head to stare at the sheets, his eyes traveling along the taut ridges of Evan’s stomach to where their cocks pressed together. He shuddered and cleared his throat, averting his eyes and giving the conversation thing a second attempt. “You might think you mean that, but?—”
“But you figure a guy who’s had straight sex all his life wouldn’t be up for a little ass play?”
Heath blinked several times while making incoherent word-like noises. No,nowhe’d had an aneurysm.
“Heath, I haven’t had sex with a ton of people, but I’ve had a lot of sex with the people I’ve been with, and I’m not afraid to get freaky. Ilikefreaky.”
More blinking and gibbering followed, and Heath had to close his eyes and take deep, steadying breaths to hold back the hysterical, joyous laughter bubbling in his chest like a hydrogen bubble.Thank you, God. Any God. All the gods. Just… thank you.
“Be that as it may,” he began, his tone suddenly a high tenor, “maybe we take it one step at a time?”
“Sure, I don’t want to scare you.”
He kissed Evan with every ounce of ill-advised desire he’d been storing up, rolling him onto his back and straddling him. At some point, he expected to wake up, realize this was all a dream, and become angry enough to spontaneously combust, but not yet. Jesus, not yet.
He ran his fingers down Evan’s chest, pausing at each nipple to tease it taut and give it a little pinch, the gasps and moans driving him to lick and bite them until pleasure scratched down his spine and Evan’s fingers yanked his hair in a bruising grip.
“Gorgeous and eager.” Heath caught Evan’s eye and dipped his tongue into the well of his belly button. Evan laughed, his head dropping to the pillows.
“Asshole.”
Heath’s tongue flicked across the head of Evan’s thick, perfect dick, and the laugh bled into a moan. Jesus, it was beautiful. Thick and salty-sweet, it fit in his hand as though it was made to. Another fount of ambrosia in a seemingly bottomless well.
He wrapped his lips around the shaft and took his time getting acquainted. Rising, lowering, and flicking his tongueuntil his throat relaxed to the size and rhythm, and then he bottomed out in the ginger-brown curls at the base.
Evan’s hands knotted in the sheets, the corded muscles in his neck flexing with every sharp inhale, every exhale a harsh hiss through clenched teeth, cascading into expletive-laden moans.
Heath wanted the image burned into his memory. He never wanted to forget the look of blissed out agony on Evan’s face while his dick was getting sucked by a true aficionado.
God, it was everything. The ragged breathing. The tortured moans and groans. Heath savored it. Reveled in it. He wanted to rent a goddamn U-Haul and live in it.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna?—”
