“Dustin—”
“Mm.”
“Dustin, something?—”
Dustin hummed without lifting his head.
Greg’s hips jerked again.
“Dustin, please?—”
Now that was a sound he wanted more of.
He doubled down.
“Dustin.”
That one sounded sharp.
Dustin lifted his head. “What?”
“It burns.”
“...What?”
“It burns, it—” Greg’s voice was strangled. “What is happening?”
Oh.
Oh, no.
“Shit. Greg, I’m sorry. It’s the chili. There’s still spice in my mouth. I forgot.”
“The chili.”
“I’m sorry.”
A long pause in the dark. Greg was breathing like he’d run up a flight of stairs.
“Why is it doing this to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Dustin said again, trying not to laugh because he really was sorry, but still.
Greg made a sound that was half laugh and half something else.
“Dustin.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you go on, please?”
Dustin did laugh then. “You sure?”
“No. But please go on.”
“Okay.”
Dustin lowered his mouth again. Slower this time. He’d already gotten this wrong once, and he wasn’t going to get it wrong twice.
