For a long moment, he feared Angelo would refuse him, but then the worry clouding Angelo’s eyes faded, and he smiled. He released Dylan and moved like a stretching cat, lying back on the bench, his sheathed cock still rock hard as he folded his hands behind his head. “If you want me, Dylan. Takeme.”
Well, okay then. Weird panic bullshit be fucking damned, Dylan was getting on that dick. And as he pushed Angelo’s chest and straddled his waist, the accompanying rush of power cleared his foggy brain. He still had no idea where he and Angelo were headed with this madness, but for now, he had thereins.
He eased himself down on Angelo’s cock, bracing himself on the bench frame, intending to take it slow, to string the ride out until neither of them could take it anymore, but his body had other ideas. Adrenaline took over as he ground down on Angelo, lapping up Angelo’s grunts and groans. He clenched around Angelo’s dick and rode him hard, his sweat dripping onto Angelo’s chest, the ache in his thighs building with every rush ofpleasure.
Angelo arched his back and brought his hands to Dylan’s hips, deepening the angle. His moans grew louder and higher in pitch, and for the first time ever, Dylan had the upperhand.
He gripped Angelo’s throat, squeezing, gentle at first, but then rougher as Angelo’s dick pulsed inside him. “You like that? You gonna come with my hand on your throat and your dick buried in myarse?”
Angelo’s eyes rolled back, and Dylan’s brief control slipped. He slammed down on Angelo one more time, then came with a ragged cry, splattering Angelo’s ripped abdomen. “Fuck!”
“Oh God.” Angelo threw his head back, pressing his perfect neck into Dylan’s hand, and his release seemed to come in waves as Dylan squeezed histhroat.
It felt like they were both coming forever, but eventually, Dylan collapsed on Angelo’s chest, smearing himself with come and sweat before he remembered that it was Angelo who’d had his air supply cutoff.
“Fuck.” He sat up sharply. “Are you okay? Did I hurtyou?”
Still panting, Angelo shook his head and touched the reddening marks around his neck. “Nah, I like that shit when I’m with someone Itrust.”
“You trustme?”
Angelo met Dylan’s gaze with a ferocious stare that seemed out of context with the mellow post-coital vibe descending on them. “Of course I do. You know who I am. Can’t think of anyone else who everhas.”
Dylan opened his mouth, but any answer he may have given was cut off by Angelo’s hand covering hislips.
Angelo shook his head. “Don’t. Just give me tonight.Please?”
As if Dylan could refuse Angelo anything when he looked at him the way he was now. In the blue lights of the club, Angelo’s eyes seemed almost black, and Dylan fell head first into their vortex. The night was closing in on them. All they had?—all they needed?—was each other,right?
* * *
It tookDylan approximately six seconds to persuade Angelo to get a cab home with him, but it felt like the longest six seconds of his life. And then the taxi ride passed in a blur of heated stares and aborted sentences. Dylan’s blood sizzled from their club encounter, but even that wasn’t enough to give him the balls to ask for anotherround.
Lucky for him, Angelo was way ahead of the game. He held Dylan back with one arm and paid the driver with the other and then yanked him out of the car. Cool air hit Dylan’s heated skin, and a residual shiver rattled through him. A heartbeat behind, Angelo wound his arms around Dylan’s waist and buried his face in Dylan’sneck.
Dylan leaned into him and waited for the shift in their dynamic?—for the inferno to fade and them to slip seamlessly back to the slow burn of friendship. Remembering what had happened the last time they’d left the club together, Dylan nuzzled Angelo’s cheek. “Allright?”
In answer, Angelo swept him off his feet and spun him around, and Dylan would never stop being in awe of his strength. “Shouldn’t I be asking youthat?”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I told you?—I’m fine. I didn’t have dinner before I came out. Maybe that fucked meup.”
Angelo didn’t look convinced, but Dylan wasn’t in the mood to persuade him. That would mean talking about whatever had upset his equilibrium in the club, and Dylan had a buzz that he intended to carry them all the way to bed. “Are you going to kip atmine?”
“You want meto?”
“Yes.”
Angelo shot Dylan a sideways glance. “Okay, but we need food and showers before we get all dirtyagain.”
Dylan’s heart skipped a beat. “You want to get dirtyagain?”
“Uh-huh.” Angelo’s expression was comically serious. “If I’m going to spend the night, I want to do more than sleep thistime.”
Dylan wound his arms around Angelo’s neck as Angelo set him back on the ground, their lips still a hairbreadth away from the kiss he craved so badly. “You won’t get any arguments fromme.”
“Good.”
The way Angelo’s voice wrapped around the single syllable had echoes of Angel, but Dylan pushed it away. It wasAngelowho had lain back on that bench and given himself up to Dylan, and the slight snarl on his face now turned Dylan’s every thought to a liquefied mush.God, I want him.And the idea of Angelo fucking outside of the club?—in Dylan’s bed, on the couch... on the kitchen worktops?—was so beguiling that Dylan swayed on hisfeet.
