“I can’t,” Nero whispered. “Just don’t go . . . please? ’Cause I want you to stay, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”
Nero woke for a third time that day as the sun was beginning to sink behind the building opposite. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, absorbing the heat of the body pressed tight against his, as the events of the last twenty-four hours drifted back to him—shouting, screaming, the coppers. More shouting, and then peace, as Lenny had slipped his arms around Nero and whispered softly in his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
What that meant in reality, Nero wasn’t quite sure, since the conversation had descended into a kiss that had taken them to bed, rolling them again and again until they’d both passed out. Now, it was—shit, 7 p.m. . . . and the day was nearly gone. Nero scrolled through his phone, taking care not to jolt Lenny, who was still fast asleep. Five missed calls from Cass, two from Debs. Three voice mails, and a series of text messages that provided all the warning he could’ve hoped for about coppers banging on his door, if only he’d picked up his phone.
Idiot. Not that it mattered now. Nero ditched his phone and looked back in time to see Lenny’s eyes flutter open, hazy at first, but then bright and anxious as they settled on Nero.
And then Lenny moved fast, sitting up and covering Nero with his body. His kiss was hesitant, perhaps testing himself—and Nero—until Nero responded, wrapping his arms tight around him and crushing him to his chest. They kissed over and over, like they had before they’d fallen asleep, but it felt different now, as though an invisible barrier had faded away.
Nero flipped them, pinning Lenny to the mattress as his hands roamed Lenny’s upper body. Lenny wrapped his legs around Nero’s waist, and then Nero felt it—a dick that wasn’t his own, or Cass’s, digging into him, hot and hard. His heart skipped, and his already tempestuous blood roared in his ears. Lenny’s dick felt big, and solid, and strong, and all the things Nero had dreamed about when his imagination cut him a break. He gripped Lenny’s hips and pressed against him tighter, absorbing Lenny’s desperate moan, but inside he was flailing, lost on a path untrodden. I need to touch him.
Lenny squirmed in Nero’s bruising hold and pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his slender chest. Nero stared. He’d seen Lenny shirtless more times than he could count, but Lenny seemed paler now, smoother, like iridescent porcelain. He laid his palm on the dark stamp of ink over Lenny’s heart. What does this mean? But he didn’t ask, couldn’t, because as Lenny shoved Nero’s sweatpants down his hips, coherent thought abandoned him.
Nero made short work of yanking Lenny’s pyjama bottoms down his legs. He tossed them over his shoulder and shivered as Lenny’s bare legs wrapped once again around his waist. With just a thin barrier of underwear between them, Nero kissed Lenny fiercely and ground down on him, searching out the friction he’d craved ever since that first electric kiss, a clumsy fumble that seemed a lifetime ago now.
Heat surged through Nero, his cock harder than it had ever been. He drove against Lenny again and again, a coil of pressure growing in his belly as Lenny’s teeth grazed his lips, then moved to his neck, nipping and biting, savaging the tender flesh at the juncture of his collarbone.
Nero gasped. Lenny took advantage of his distraction and toppled him over, hooking his arm under Nero’s knee and raising his leg to his chest. The challenge in Lenny’s eyes was clear—daring Nero to fight him and roll them again—but Nero didn’t. Why would he, when having Lenny bearing down on him, dry-fucking him, was the best feeling in the world?
He threw his head back, arching his hips into Lenny, their cocks grinding together, scraping and rubbing. The sensation was dizzying and addictive, and Nero couldn’t imagine how he’d ever stop. He brought his arms around Lenny, caging him, searching out his mouth, and swallowing his cries.
Groaning, Lenny kissed him back and rocked forward, and Nero reared up like a starving man. He pulled his lips from Lenny’s and sank his teeth into Lenny’s neck. It felt almost wrong to be so rough with Lenny’s delicate flesh, but as Lenny’s thrusts got sharper, his moans deeper, Nero realised there was nothing delicate about the man who was making his head spin . . . and his cock weep.
God, I’m gonna come.
Nero tore his mouth from Lenny’s neck. “Lenny—”
But his choked exclamation was cut off as Lenny scrambled back and shoved Nero’s boxers away, freeing his cock. He wriggled out of his own, then spit on his hand and closed his fist around both of them. Nero watched their cocks glide together, mesmerised, but there was no time to enjoy it. Orgasm crept up on him, and then it rushed him, tearing out of him so sweetly it almost hurt, and he came with a low cry, spilling over Lenny’s hand.
“Fuck.” Lenny thrust hard against Nero’s still throbbing cock, once more . . . twice, and then he came too, his moan so carnal Nero almost climaxed again.
It went on forever. Nero trembled and shook, chasing breaths that didn’t seem to be there, all the while clutching at Lenny like a life raft.
Lenny responded in kind, smearing the sticky mess of sweat and come between them, his slim shoulders heaving. “Oh God, you have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you then.”
Nero chuckled hoarsely, his throat dry and raw. “Ditto.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t tease me, mate. Let me have my fantasies.”
“I’m not teasing you.”
Lenny abruptly sat up, his hair a wild mess like Nero had never seen. “What does that mean?”
“Erm . . . I don’t know? What are you asking me?”
“Whatever you’re trying to tell me.”
“Oh man, don’t do that.” Nero scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. “You know I’m shit at this. Just ask me? I’ll answer, I promise.”
Lenny fell silent, trailing a fingertip along Nero’s still-twitching dick, grinning at Nero’s shiver. “You’re giving me the impression that you want to bottom, but my brain’s telling me that’s too good to be true.”
“Your brain’s wrong.” Every sexual thought Nero had ever had replayed in his mind at hyperspeed, confirming what his heart already knew. “I wasn’t sure I’d get as far as shagging a fella, but whenever I’ve imagined it, I’ve always kinda been on the bottom.”
“‘On the bottom.’” Lenny repeated the words like he’d dreamt them. “Jesus.”
Nero shifted, suddenly aware of how much he’d exposed himself. “Is that a bad thing?”
Lenny’s head snapped up. “What? No! God, no, I’m just . . . shocked, I suppose, that you’re so cool about it.”
