Jett didn’t know what to say. What thehellcould he say to that?
“Is this a proposal or something?” he asked shakily.
Nope. That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say.
“Are you asking me?” Harrison smirked, looking totally unaffected by the deep topic of conversation. “Because if I were going to propose to you, there would be no questioning my actions.”
Cocky bastard.
“Fine.” Jett set the frame against the wall and copied Harrison’s posture, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not a proposal then.”
Harrison closed the space between them, bending low to rest his chin on Jett’s shoulder while he hugged him. “I’m a hard man to read sometimes, so I wanted to make sure you understood how I feel about you.”
Jett inhaled the scent of Harrison’s shampoo and allowed it to settle the tension squirming around inside. “You don’t have to turn into a goddamn poet. I know how you feel about me—all you have to do is kiss me or touch me. Your actions tend to speak louder than your words.”
“Kiss you?”
Jett felt warm lips on his neck, brushing over his racing pulse.
“Touch you?”
Hands gripped the back of his thighs and picked him up, squeezing his firm muscles.
Grumbling, Jett peered down at Harrison’s smirking face. “What did I say about picking me up?”
Harrison’s head tilted to the side, and he hummed. “Something, something, leg. Something, heavy, something, I’m not a princess?”
“Put me the fuck down, Killinger.”
Harrison shrugged and turned toward the bed, taking two strides to get to his destination and then sat with Jett still on his lap.
Jett huffed a laugh, but it was cut off by Harrison’s mouth descending on his, swallowing his squeak of surprise. He could feel a smile against his lips, but Jett ignored it in favour of kissing the life out of his stupid, attractive, and perfect boyfriend.
He was already hard in his thin pyjama pants, but one upward grind told him that Harrison was just as turned on.
Screw it, his dad had ear plugs in.
Jett stood so he could shuck his pants off, hands reaching for Harrison’s, only to be smacked away.
Frowning, Jett scowled. “Sex?”
Harrison’s amused chuckle annoyed him more than he was willing to admit. He didn’t know what was happening as he watched Harrison shimmy his bulky frame across the bed, shoving his pillow out of the way so he could lie his head down.
Harrison drummed his fingers over his smirking lips, cool and casual as always. “Come sit.”
The groan that left Jett was nothing short of debauched. He couldn’t disobey an order, but he made sure to curse the man’s confidence every second until that smirk disappeared between his thighs.
Jett gripped his headboard, ignoring the hockey stickers stuck to the wood as he waited in anticipation for Harrison to get on with it.
In a cruel twist of fate, Jett glanced up just as the first stroke of Harrison’s hot tongue brushed over his hole, meeting the eyes of the younger Killinger unintentionally.
He gasped and leaned up to stop what was about to happen, but Harrison’s arms were wrapped around his thighs, and the downward pressure was giving him a clear order.
Sit.
“Did you fucking plan this, you bastard?”
The only answer he received was a tongue dipping inside him, and breathy laughter across his balls.
