“Yes, you did. Bad relationships breed bad habits. They’re hard to break, even when you find that one soul who loves you more than anyone else ever will.”
Nero’s gaze faltered. “Do you still love me?”
“You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.” Lenny spoke to himself as much as to Nero, like his head needed to hear what his heart already knew—that nothing and no one could come between them as long as they both cared enough to fight.
But his thoughts were cut short by Nero’s kiss, hard and searching, and his strong hands lifting Lenny up like he weighed nothing.
“I didn’t know I needed you until you found me, but I do need you, so much, Lenny. Come to bed with me . . . please?”
Lenny’s back hit the mattress, driving the air from his lungs in a startled gasp. But shock had no time to register as Nero’s heated palms cupped his face, and his lips met Lenny’s in another of the bruising kisses that had carried them upstairs, tumbling them through the flat and onto the bed.
Is this really happening?
God yes, and there was no doubt about where it was going. They were going to fuck, and despite how many times Lenny had imagined it, it was clear Nero had his own ideas of how it was going to go down.
Nero claimed Lenny’s mouth again and again, making short work of removing his clothes, then he shoved Lenny up the bed, splaying him, so he was prone, and inserted himself into the cradle of Lenny’s legs. He dropped a palm on either side of Lenny’s head. “I want you.”
Lenny drank in the perfect contradiction of Nero’s shyly bold smirk. “Any way you want me, I’m yours.”
“I know.”
Those two little words meant everything. Lenny stretched his neck and pressed his forehead to Nero’s, gently rubbing nose to nose. “Then have me.”
It was, apparently, all the encouragement Nero needed. His touch grew rougher, braver. His clothes followed Lenny’s, littering the floor, and when they were both naked, bare to the last of the balmy summer heat, it was like nothing bad had ever happened to either of them, because there was nothing else, only them, now, together, like this.
Nero stared down at Lenny, his pupils blown with desire, his hand around Lenny’s cock, and his fingers, God, his fingers probing where Lenny wanted them most. Lenny groaned, arching his back, his breath sharp, rapid, and airless, as Nero’s fingers moved with precision, stroking and twisting, rubbing on the bundle of nerves that set him on fire.
“Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
Nero grinned. “I do have my own body to play with, you know.”
A bolt of pleasure ripped through Lenny. Damn. He’d never imagined Nero touching himself. “Oh God, I can’t handle you.”
“Try.” Nero withdrew his fingers and walked on his knees up Lenny’s body, straddling Lenny’s chest. He tapped his cock on Lenny’s lips. “I dream about sucking you sometimes. I never thought I’d like it so much.”
Lenny believed him. Nero on his knees in that damn fucking cubicle would stay with him forever.
He opened his mouth, granting Nero entrance, and swallowed him until Nero’s dick scraped the back of his throat. The urge to gag was intense, but he fought it, and Nero’s pleasured half-moan made his eyes roll. He sucked harder, working his tongue along every ridge and vein, committing it all to memory, until Nero pulled away.
Nero sat back on his heels, tugging Lenny up with him. “I’ve got johnnies, and I think Cass left a family-sized bottle of lube in the bathroom.”
“He did,” Lenny panted out. “And it’s good stuff. Get it.”
Nero scrambled off the bed and out of the room, returning in a flash with condoms and lube. He tossed them on the bed beside Lenny and reached for the condoms while Lenny went for the lube. “Ready?”
Lenny nodded, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his heart jumping with every inch Nero moved closer. He’d long ago lost any fear of bottoming, instead coming to crave the heady-dark burn of being stretched and filled, but this was different—this was Nero—and Lenny could hardly breathe for wanting him. He was dizzy with arousal, half-mad with it. His body tightened, anticipating Nero’s sheathed cock breaching him, but at the pivotal moment, Nero’s rough hands gripped his hips and flipped him over.
“On your knees.”
Nero left enough space between them for Lenny to wriggle free, but fuck that. Lenny didn’t want space between them, he wanted—yearned—the sensation of Nero pressed against him. He reared back, seeking Nero’s chest. Nero found him and wrapped his arms tight around him, one at his waist, one at his throat, like Nero couldn’t get close enough to him without climbing inside his skin. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes—shit, Nero. Do you want me to beg you to fuck me?”
“You might have to beg me to stop.”
It was a world away from the scene he’d planned—all those nights Lenny had lain awake, picturing the moment he’d lay Nero down and fuck him—but whatever had turned their dreams upside down made such perfect, illogical sense, that Lenny could barely stand it.
He dropped his head and closed his eyes, steeling himself for the stab of discomfort that could only be seconds away. Nero handled him with strength and grace, but he’d never done this before, never eased his dick inside another man in the seamless slide that took practice to get right.
