"This is nice," I said against his lips.
"Nice?" He pulled back, mock-offended. "My dick isnice? I’ll have you know this dick has won half a dozen gold medals. It’s an award winning dick.”
I grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face.
He was laughing underneath it, his whole body shaking, and I was laughing too, holding the pillow down while he made muffled sounds of protest. His hips were still moving against mine, which made the whole thing ridiculous, both of us hard and grinding together while I tried to smother him.
"I hate you."
"No you don't." He tossed the pillow aside and pulled me back down, kissing me deep and slow.
He was right. I really didn't.
We found our rhythm again, hips rolling together, my hand working us both. The laughter faded into warmth, into heat that built slow in my belly and spread outward. Joel's breath came faster against my mouth. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck—" His head pressed back into the pillow, throat exposed, and I couldn't help myself. I bit down on the tendon there, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and he made a sound that was half laugh, half moan.
"Sorry," I said against his skin, not sorry at all.
"No you're not." But his hand came up to hold me there, fingers threading through my hair, keeping my mouth on his throat. “Don’t you dare be sorry.”
His hips snapped up and he came with my name on his lips, my real name, Robert, and I wanted to live inside that sound. The sight of him like that, wrecked and laughing and mine,pushed me over the edge. I followed him with a groan, adding to the mess between us, my whole body going loose and heavy on top of his.
We lay there catching our breath, both of us grinning like idiots. Joel's hand stroked up my spine lazily, and I pressed my smile into his neck.
For a while we just laid there, sticky with syrup and sweat and cum, too satisfied to move.
"We should shower," Joel said eventually.
"Probably."
Neither of us moved.
"Swim first?" he asked. "The pool's warm in the morning."
I lifted my head and looked at him. His hair was wrecked, sticking up on one side, his lips swollen, a streak of syrup still visible on his jaw.
"Yeah," I said. "Okay."
The pool was warm, just like he'd promised. I floated on my back and let the morning light catch the water, turning everything gold and blue.
Joel had gone inside to grab towels. The sliding door opened and closed, his footsteps crossed the tile, and then silence.
"Robert."
I lifted my head. Joel was standing at the edge of the pool, two towels over his arm, staring at me with his jaw tight and his eyes murderous.
"Yeah?"
"You absolute motherfucker."
I grinned. "What?"
He turned his head, showing me his neck. The hickey was dark and obvious, a bruise the size of a quarter sitting right above his collarbone. No shirt collar would hide it. No amount of makeup would cover it completely.
"Oops," I said.
"Oops." He set the towels down on a lounge chair. "You did that on purpose."
