Kit licked his lips. “Was I tempting?”
“I’m not talking about the seductive act.” Bishop’s grin was crooked. Fond. “Though I like that, too.”
Rough hands scraped up the back of Kit’s shirt. He arched into Bishop’s calluses.
“You were so tightly armored.” Bishop leaned close, inhaling beneath Kit’s jaw. “But so desperate to love.”
Kit whined, thoughts scattering between word and touch. “You’re supposed to pretend I didn’t say that.”
Teeth scraped Kit’s throat. Bishop’s words rumbled deep. “I want to unravel you.”
Arousal hooked into Kit. His cock strained, and James’s shirt was suddenly suffocating. Kit already frayed at the seams. But Bishop was right. He could unravel further.
“One condition,” Kit said, clinging to one last sliver of control. He yanked Bishop’s head up with a handful of hair. “If you kiss me tonight, you have to mean it.”
Bishop’s gaze pierced silver in the dim light. “I’ve always meant it,” Bishop said, a breath before the kiss.
Kit sank in, eager to drown. Stubble scraped, and tongues slid past hungry lips. Kit’s pulse raced upwards, as if his heart trembled in his throat, each beat drummed by Bishop’s insistent touch.
This was nothing like their previous kisses. This was a decision, far more intense than a hasty impulse.
Bishop growled into Kit’s mouth, and the world flipped over. Kit slammed back, bouncing on the bed until Bishop covered his body. The sheer size of him scattered Kit’s thoughts until they reshaped into memory.
Back in Bishop’s house. Kit crawled into Bishop’s bed, and Bishop flipped him over just like this. Kit wasn’t trading his body for a place to stay anymore. Not even security. He wanted so much more than that—he wanted Bishop himself.
They fumbled with clothing. Kit managed two buttons of Bishop’s shirt. Then he gave up, because Bishop had hitched his jeans down, and Kit’s boxers somehow dangled on a single ankle. Bishop’s cock slid hot and heavy next to Kit’s. Embers flared, then ignited, as one callused hand grasped them together.
Bishop’s other hand pinned Kit’s wrist to the mattress. Almost as controlling as Bishop’s stare.
“You made me feel something,” Kit said, winding his free hand into Bishop’s hair. “Back in Ed’s kitchen. I hadn’t felt anything in a long time.”
Bishop saw through him. Good. “I terrified you.”
“I liked it,” Kit confessed, yanking Bishop closer. “But this is scarier.”
Bishop jerked their cocks together, in incandescent punctuation. “I’m scared of this, too.”
Understanding bound them together, more tightly than any handcuffs. Bishop understood how frightening it was to feel without blunting the emotions. He understood that Kit’s fear was far more tender a gift than his love.
Whimpering, Kit rutted into Bishop’s grasp. They were still partly dressed. James’s shirt rode up Kit’s stomach, and Bishop’s shirt feathered Kit’s heated skin. They didn’t need to strip down to be fully exposed.
“Remember the first time you tried seducing me?” Bishop asked, twisting Kit’s cock.
“Yeah,” Kit managed. “You bastard.”
“I almost fucked you that night.” Bishop’s words crashed through Kit. “I jerked off after you left.”
Bishop released Kit’s wrist to grasp his face instead. A thick thumb pushed between Kit’s kiss-bitten lips. Kit whined, writhing, suddenly too close. Too far. Teetering on the edge of orgasm.
“I came thinking about fucking your wicked little mouth,” Bishop breathed into Kit’s forced-open lips.
They were just rutting together, desperate as animals, but Kit felt Bishop all the way inside him. Like Bishop had clawed out a home for himself inside Kit’s hollow soul.
“I came thinking about you crying,” Bishop said, and Kit’s orgasm punched through like a gunshot.
No thoughts. Pure sensation. Kit trembled, and Bishop stroked him past the point of pleasure. Kit wanted that oversensitive pain to last forever, even as tears stung his eyes.
He barely heard Bishop’s own groan of completion. Barely felt the increased slickness against his overused cock.
