Dylan huffed, touching the mark with a small curl of his lip. His fingers landed on top of Ryker’s, the two of them tracing August’s mark together.
“It’s just a hickey.”
“Can I give you a hickey?” Ryker asked, not caring what Dylan called it.
Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Not if you’re going to bite me to put it there.”
Ryker grunted, frustrated. He pushed his head down and buried his face in Dylan’s throat, on the other side from where August had laid claim.
“I won’t bite.” His voice was muffled.
Dylan seemed to have a different definition of the word anyway, and Ryker would stop if he objected.
“Okay,” Dylan said, sounding nervous.
Ryker hesitated. He’d just finished castigating himself for being too rough, and now he was bullying Dylan into letting him give him a hickey?
He had more control than that.
Teeth itching to bite, Ryker pushed down his instincts and ignored the almost irresistible need to put a visible mark on Dylan’s body that he was claimed.
“It’s okay, we can just make out some more.” He licked over Dylan’s jaw, moving up to his mouth and plunging his tongue past his lips. They gnashed their teeth together and Ryker growled. “You taste good.”
Dylan grinned, leaning back and breathing hard.
Ryker was about to lean down and kiss him again when there was a knock on the door.
“Dylan? I have an emergency!” A female voice called, knocking again. “I’m going on a date and I need you to tell me I don’t look like a slut.”
Dylan froze, staring at the door with a horrified expression.
“Dylan, open up! He’s picking me up in five minutes.”
“Hide in the bathroom,” Dylan hissed, pushing Ryker off his body and jumping off the bed. He pulled on his flannel pants and t-shirt, jumping around and taking much longer to get the cozy outfit on than if he’d been calm. When Ryker didn’t move, he grabbed his arm and tried to pull him off the bed. “In the bathroom!”
Ryker let himself be shoved into the tiny bathroom, Dylan closing the door firmly behind him. He lifted his compression pants back over his cock, arranging it so that it lay comfortably against his hips, and then listened as Dylan rushed to clean up his room and open the door for his friend.
At least it wasn’t a lover, Ryker consoled himself. That would have been upsetting. And Ryker didn’t blame Dylan for not wanting his friends to meet him like this. Glancing at himself in the tiny mirror, taking in his damp hair and the obscene bulge in his compression pants, he wasn’t exactly fit for company.
The knocking continued, and Ryker listened as Dylan finally opened the door.
“Sorry, I just needed a minute.” Dylan sounded out of breath. “Oh, wow, you look nice, Annie!”
“I do?” Annie sounded fretful. “It’s not too much cleavage?”
“Not at all. It looks really classy with the pants. You look great!”
“Thank you. I was video-calling with my mom and she said I looked like a businesswoman on a CW drama.”
Dylan laughed. “In a good way, maybe. The cool kind.”
“That’s fine. Sorry for barging in on you.” Annie paused, and Ryker could practically hear the wheels in her head turning. “What were you doing, anyway?”
“Nothing!”
Ryker made a mental note to never count on Dylan to lie about anything. August was right – the idea of him being some kind of con man was preposterous.
“Are you getting a sore throat?” Annie sounded suspicious. “You’re a little raspy.”
