“Uh-huh.” Okay. Anything. He was easy.
“You like that, huh?” Those blue eyes twinkled for him, Dillon taking up his other hand to give it the same treatment.
“Like.” Hell, it obviously made him stupid.
“Enjoy? Want me to do it some more?”
Turkey.
“Uh-huh.” He wanted a lot of stuff. Maybe everything.
“Cool.” That lean body shifted, Dillon sitting up so he could reach more, rubbing at Coke’s arms.
He watched the water slide down Dillon’s belly—Dillon’s smooth, ripped belly. “Look at you.”
Dillon glanced down, eyes crossing. “Nope. I’ll just look at you instead. I mean, it’s way cooler.”
“I’m an old man. You’re… Damn.” He stroked along the muscles, touching.
“Stop that. We’ve discussed it, and decided you are not old.” Winking, Dillon bent and kissed him, sending every other thought out of his head. He moaned, lips parting, his heavy five o’clock shadow caught by those lips, the little hairs tugging. Dillon gave and gave, loving on him, kissing and touching until he thought his head might just pop off.
“Dillon.” He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t quite focus. God knew he wasn’t hurting any more.
“Right here, babe. Whatever you need.”
“You.” And wasn’t that the God’s honest truth.
Drawing back, Dillon stared him right in the eye. “How do you want me?”
“Take me to bed, Dillon. Make love to me.” Damn, that made him sound like all sorts of a girl and Lord knew he’d never let anyone in before—not Danny, not Adam, no one—but…
Well, hell. This was Dillon.
This was special.
Not only that, he had himself one of them fake cocks at home and he liked that well enough.
“I can do that, babe.” Water streamed off Dillon when he stood, holding a hand down to help his Coke body up out of the water.
There was a perfect hoof print bruise on his side, dark and black and u-shaped, the blood dotting the skin as they dried each other off.
“Oh, fuck, Coke. You’ve got to be hurting.” Dillon blotted at the damned thing gently, barely brushing at the bruise.
“I was. I’m better now.” He was damn near perky.
Head tilting, Dillon paused to consider that, then nodded. “Well, okay then. I get to fuss after, though.”
“I can handle that. I’ll let you and not bitch a word.” He’d even like it, if Dillon’d give him what he needed first.
“Woo.” They stepped out of the tub, and once they were out of the slick, wet bathroom, Dillon started hauling him like a tugboat with a barge. “Mine, mine, mine.”
“You’re sure about that, are you?” He was chuckling, happy deep down.
“Pretty sure.” All of a sudden Dillon seemed a little uncertain. “I mean, you said you were keeping me.”
“For as long as you’ll have me, cowboy.” He stepped right up close, all laughter stopped. “This ain’t no little thing for me, sir. Not at all.” He’d be Dillon’s until Dillon wanted something else, then he’d count himself lucky for what he’d had.
“God.” He landed on the bed hard when Dillon tackled him, kissing his chin, his cheeks. His mouth. The kiss liked to pop the top of his head right off. Boom. God help him, he didn’t want it to stop. It didn’t for a long while, Dillon only pulling back long enough to breathe before diving back in. Oral man. Everything faded away—bulls and bruises and all. All he was left with was Dillon and the scratchy coverlet.
