“I could.” Bennett inched forward like he was going to kiss him. Against Sandro’s lips, he said, “Or you could give me one. Consider it a refund for the hundred bucks you lost me at Thanksgiving.”
Sandro’s laughter was light and airy. “My blow jobs are worth way more than a hundred bucks.”
“A hundred bucks plus interest, then.”
Sandro nudged him backward, following closely so there was never more than a couple of inches between them. “Or you could fuck me into oblivion.” He kissed the base of Bennett’s throat. “That’s a good trade-off, isn’t it?”
“Christ.”
“I need a shower first, though. I got sweaty on my run.”
“I’m about to get you even sweatier,” Bennett growled, tugging Sandro’s beanie off to card a hand through his hair, unable to stop touching him. “Might as well save the shower for later.”
“Hm. Good point. Then we can shower together.”
“Good plan.”
Sandro kissed him quickly—much too quickly—then stepped back and pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing pert nipples, a smooth chest, cut abs, and a slim trail of hair around his belly button that disappeared into his pants. “Know what I was thinking about on my run?” Sandro asked over his shoulder as he ambled up the stairs.
Bennett followed him up like a dog on a leash. “Tell me?”
“That game against Penn State our senior year. Or maybe it was junior year. I forget.”
“What about it?”
“Remember when you tried to sneak into my hotel room for some midnight nookie?”
Loosing a laugh, Bennett leaned back against his dresser while Sandro sat on the bed and removed his socks. “Tried being the operative word. I ran into Jimmy getting ice, Brewers having a phone conversation with his girlfriend, and Coach Podanski. I still don’t know what he was doing out in the hallway. Is Brewers still with what’s-her-name?”
“Beats me.” Sandro rose and shucked his pants and underwear in one go. “We were never friends.”
“Yeah,” Bennett managed, eyeing Sandro’s erection. “Why was that?”
“He was jealous.” Sandro walked into his space and kissed him. “He had a crush on you, but you were all mine.”
“What?” Momentarily distracted, Bennett narrowed his gaze. “But . . . he had a girlfriend.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t also have a crush on you.” Sandro looked down between them and Bennett followed his gaze. Sandro’s erection, thick and red, was pointing right at him while his own was still tucked behind his underwear. “Going to fuck me with that?”
Laughing, Bennett nudged him backward until he fell onto the bed. “You’re the one who keeps talking.” He got rid of his own underwear and followed Sandro down.
Earlier, he’d worried that last night was it. Secretly thought that maybe Sandro was done with him. Done with them before they could be something again.
But here he was now, with Sandro running his hands over him like he couldn’t stop touching him and with their lips clinging like they had all the time in the world for what was about to come next.
They didn’t, though. They were both due at the arena soon.
With that time limit lurking, Bennett found the lube and condoms in the top drawer of his nightstand—purchased when he’d first arrived in Burlington on the off chance Sandro gave him the time of day. He prepped Sandro, and when Sandro was panting beneath him, he sheathed himself and entered him one slow inch at a time.
“Shit,” Sandro whimpered.
His entire body on fire, Bennett fell over him and kissed along his neck. “Fuck, I missed this,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He rose onto his elbows, nosing at Sandro’s face. Sandro clamped a hand onto the back of Bennett’s head and brought it down to his, crushing their lips together. Bennett moaned into his mouth, wishing he could somehow erase the past fifteen years. He ripped his mouth away from Sandro’s to ask, “You good?”
Sandro’s smile was filthier than it had any right to be.
