I saw the attacker's knee coming. Saw it aimed at Declan's head with enough force to crack his skull.
I grabbed Declan's leg and yanked hard. I pulled him down and to the side. The knee sailed past where his head had been a second before.
We hit the ground together. We were tangled up in each other, his weight half on top of me, one hand braced beside my head, the other flat on my chest. Our faces were inches apart.
His eyes locked on mine. Wide and shocked, pupils blown, breathing hard.
I could feel every point where our bodies touched. His thigh between mine, pressing against my half-hard cock. His hand flaton my chest, right over my heart that was trying to beat out of my fucking ribcage. His breath hot on my face.
Time stopped.
All I could think about was closing the distance. Tilting my head up those few inches and pressing my mouth to his. Finding out if he tasted like sweat and blood and violence. Finding out if he wanted this as much as I did.
Then the attacker kicked at us and Declan rolled off me, took the kick on his shoulder, and we were both back on our feet.
My hands were shaking. My whole body was on fire. I couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline or the feel of Declan on top of me or the way he had looked at me for that one second before everything went back to chaos.
My cock was fully hard now, pressed against my jeans in a way that would be obvious if anyone looked. If Declan looked.
I needed to end this fight before I did anything stupid.
We moved together now with some unspoken coordination that came from nowhere and everywhere. I went high. Declan went low. I feinted left. Declan came in from the right. We boxed the attacker in, working in sync like we had done this a hundred times before.
Like we knew each other's bodies and how they moved.
I threw a jab to set up distance. Declan followed with a leg kick that buckled the attacker's knee. I grabbed their arm as they stumbled forward and twisted hard. I heard bone pop. They screamed behind the mask.
Declan drove a knee into their liver. Once. Twice. The attacker folded.
We had them.
I could feel Declan beside me. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I could hear his breathing, hard and fast, matching mine. I could smell the sweat on his skin mixed with blood and adrenaline.
My body was still buzzing from when we had been on the ground. From the weight of him. From the way he had looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
Then the attacker pulled a knife from their jacket. Small and metal, the blade catching the light as they slashed at Declan.
They caught him across the forearm. Blood welled immediately, dark and fast.
Everything in me went cold and then hot, rage burning through the arousal.
Declan grabbed their wrist and slammed it against the wall until the knife fell and clattered on the pavement. I kicked it away, fury burning through everything else.
The attacker wrenched free and ran.
We both started after them but Declan grabbed my arm. “Let them go.”
“What? No?—”
“Let them go, Troy. We're both hurt. We don't know if they have backup. We need to get out of here.”
He was right. I hated that he was right.
We stood there breathing hard, bleeding, staring at each other in the dim alley light.
His hand was still on my arm. I could feel each finger. I could feel the calluses. I could feel the blood from his cut dripping onto my sleeve.
“You followed me.”
