He wasn’t expecting Joel to have Ariadne on his arm when he walked into the lobby. At first, Quentin had been crestfallen. It made him wonder if Joel and Ariadne really were a couple, even if their relationship was all PR. But then Joel had seen Quentin across the lobby, and there had been no way for Quentin to escape. But Joel hadn’t looked angry to see him. He looked like Quentin felt: sick with longing and unanswered questions.
Now they were in the elevator, and Quentin wanted Joel more badly than he’d wanted anything in his life.
The elevator dinged. “This is me,” Joel said.
Quentin followed him automatically out of the elevator, down a short hallway, and to an apartment door. He barely registered Joel’s absurd costume, which made him look like a Greek god in modern day. It was fitting. Joel had the beauty of a Greek god.
Joel fumbled with his key. He opened the door to a large, well-decorated apartment. It had a cozy feel to it and a great view of the city.
“It’s beautiful,” Quentin said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say as he followed Joel into the apartment.
“Thank you,” Joel said quietly. They stood for a moment in the foyer, facing each other, neither of them saying anything. Quentin felt the impulse to speak first, but he held himself back. He’d made the first move by coming here. His cards weren’t fully on the table, but Joel had at least seen a glimpse of them. It was up to Joel, now.
Joel took a breath. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Why did you run away in Tampa?” Quentin whispered. He hadn’t meant to ask it, but the words came out on their own.
Joel nodded. “Right.” He met Quentin’s gaze, and his eyes were wide and worried. It was an expression filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I wish that I hadn’t. I was afraid.”
Quentin took a small step closer to Joel. “Afraid of what? Afraid of me?”
“No,” Joel said in a very soft voice.
“Then, of what?” Quentin took another step closer. Heneededto be close to Joel. He needed to breathe the same air if he couldn’t feel Joel’s skin on his. He’d never felt this need for someone else before. It was all-consuming, like withdrawal from a powerful drug.
“I’m afraid of how I feel,” Joel whispered.
Quentin had almost closed the distance between him and Joel. He could feel the heat of Joel’s body and saw the sparkle of glitter in the makeup around his eyes. He smelled Joel’s cologne and a hint of sweat from a long day.
“How do you feel?” Quentin murmured. He wanted to kiss Joel so badly, but he waited. Instead, he brought a gentle hand up and brushed at the locks of golden-brown hair that had fallen across his forehead. Joel shivered at Quentin’s touch.
Joel took a shaky breath. “I feel…consumed.”
Quentin touched Joel’s cheek, and Joel closed his eyes, leaning into Quentin’s touch. “I want you, Quentin,” he murmured. “I want you so badly. I fucked up in Tampa, and I shouldn’t have run from how I felt. It felt so right, and so natural, and it terrified me. I’m sorry for running.” He opened his eyes. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Quentin whispered. He raised his other hand so that he was cupping Joel’s face. “Don’t be sorry. Just kiss me again. Kiss me, please, because Iknowhow badly you’ve wanted it. It’s consumed me, too.”
Their kiss was softer than the first kiss in the alley. In Tampa, Joel had been afraid and a little angry. He’d been consumed by his passion, and that kiss had felt like a shout. This kiss wasn’t a shout. They sank into this kiss, melted into it.
Joel had one hand on Quentin’s hip, the other in Quentin’s hair, as Quentin pulled him closer. Quentin’s mouth was warm on his, and gentle, and searching. Joel’s entire body trembled, a thrill of passion and desire coursing through him. He pressed himself against Quentin, deepening their kiss, begging for more with his body. He felt Quentin’s tongue against his lips, and he opened his mouth to Quentin. He felt like he was becoming one with his desire. They were two flames flickering together, the heat of their passion pulling them closer.
Joel let Quentin press him against the wall. All reservations he had had, any worry, any fear, vanished. He was hungry for Quentin, and he wanted to give himself over to the other man.
“Fuck,” Joel whispered. “Fuck, Quentin.”
Quentin buried his face in Joel’s neck, kissing and sucking and making sinful noises of pleasure.
“You’re perfect,” Quentin whispered into Joel’s skin, kissing up his neck. Joel squirmed in pleasure, and he pulled Quentin’s mouth to his. The kiss was sloppy, hungry, full of passion andneed.
He needed Quentin. He needed him now. He needed him for every angry jibe they’d made at each other, every snide comment. It had all been foreplay, bringing them here.
“I need you,” Quentin whispered, as if he’d read Joel’s mind. “Even if that ridiculous costume, Ineedyou.”
“Have me,” Joel gasped, and it was all he could say before he felt Quentin’s hands under his shirt, warm and rough on the skin of his stomach. He groaned and tipped his head back as Quentin explored Joel’s body with his hands, and leaned down to kiss Joel’s bare chest, where his costume was open to expose his skin. He moaned when Quentin’s mouth found his left nipple. Quentin sucked Joel’s nipple, biting down slightly on it, sending a thrill of arousal through Joel’s body.
They were pressed together, and he could feel Quentin’s hard cock straining for release against Joel’s hip. Joel needed it to be free. He needed to taste Quentin, and needed tonow.
He dropped to his knees, fumbling with Quentin’s zipper. “Get it out,” he gasped, as he unzipped Quentin’s pants, revealing the bulge in his underwear, with a dark spot of precum already staining the cotton.
