The orgasm hit me like a freight train. My whole body went rigid, pleasure slamming through me so hard my vision whited out for a second. I felt my dick pulse in my jeans, felt the wet heat spreading across my boxer briefs, and I couldn't do anything except hold onto Soren's waist and try not to collapse while I came harder than I ever had in my life.
Soren's hand moved away as quickly as it had landed, reaching up to run through his own hair as he kept dancing, completely oblivious to what had just happened. He was still moving against me, still lost in the music.
Another guy approached about five minutes later—or maybe it was thirty seconds, time had stopped making sense—this one shorter and more confident, with hands that went straight toSoren's arm like he had permission. “Hey, beautiful. You look like you could use some company.”
“Not interested,” Soren said, but his voice was getting tired now, the brightness fading into exhaustion.
“Come on, don't be like that. Let me buy you a drink, and we can see where the night goes.”
Soren turned in my arms to face the guy, and before I could process what was happening, he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me down into a kiss.
My brain went completely offline.
His mouth was warm and tasted like whiskey and lime, and he kissed me like he meant it. My hands tightened on his waist without permission from my conscious mind, and I felt myself kissing him back even though my dick was still sensitive and my jeans were wet and uncomfortable and I had no idea what the fuck was happening to my life.
I could feel his tongue against mine, could taste the alcohol on his breath, could hear the small noise he made when I shifted my grip and pulled him closer.
The guy who'd been hitting on him said in a tone somewhere between impressed and annoyed, “Guess that answers that question.”
I barely heard him. I was too busy trying to process the fact that Soren was kissing me.
Soren pulled back first, breathing hard, eyes unfocused. “Did he leave?”
I glanced over his shoulder and saw that the guy had indeed backed off, disappearing into the crowd with a final shake of his head. “Yeah. He's gone.”
“Good.” Soren sagged against me, and I realized with a clarity that felt like falling that he was fading fast. The kiss had taken whatever energy he'd been running on and burned through it completely.
“We're leaving,” I said into his ear, trying to ignore the mess in my jeans and the way my mind was racing. “Come on, let's get you home.”
“Don't wanna go home yet.” But he didn't fight when I started steering him toward the exit, just leaned into me and let me guide him through the crowd.
The cold air outside hit us both like a wall, and Soren shivered hard enough that I pulled him closer without thinking about it. He was quiet on the walk to my truck, docile in ways that made me more worried than his earlier chaos had.
I got him into the passenger seat and buckled him in before walking around to the driver's side. By the time I'd started the engine, he was already half-asleep, head tilted against the window and eyes sliding closed.
I put the car in gear and started driving. The streets were mostly empty at this hour, and I kept glancing over at him to make sure he was still breathing. He looked younger when he was sleeping, softer, the tension that usually lived in his shoulders finally gone.
We pulled up in front of his building about fifteen minutes later, and I realized immediately that I had a problem. Soren was dead to the world, completely unconscious in a way that meant he wasn't walking anywhere under his own power.
“Soren.” I shook his shoulder gently. “We're here. I need your keys.”
Nothing. Not even a flicker of awareness.
I sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, trying to find his keys without being invasive and failing spectacularly because his pockets were a disaster zone of receipts and guitar picks and random shit I couldn't identify. My hand brushed against his hip, and I felt him shift slightly in his sleep.
Then I felt what was unmistakably an erection pressing against the inside of his jeans, and my brain went completely offline for a solid ten seconds.
He was hard. And I was acutely, painfully aware of it in ways that made my own body respond before I could shut that down.
I found the keys and pulled my hand back like I'd been burned, trying very hard not to think about what I'd just felt or what it meant or how much I wanted to reach back and?—
No. Absolutely fucking not. Soren was drunk and unconscious, and I was not going to be the kind of asshole who took advantage of that.
I got out of the truck and walked around to his side, unbuckling him and pulling him into my arms in a movement that was probably easier than it should have been given how much he weighed. He made a small noise and curled into my chest, and I tried not to notice how perfectly he fit there.
The building was quiet when I let us in, and I carried him up the stairs as carefully as I could manage. His head was tucked under my chin, his breath warm against my neck, and every step made me more aware of how close we were.
I was halfway down the hallway when a door opened and Talia stepped out. She took one look at me carrying her brother and her expression shifted from surprise to resignation so fast I almost missed the transition.
