Dave didn’t move. Couldn’t. His breath caught, fingers flexing against the sheets. For the first time in years, he didn’t force distance between them.
Stone reached out—slow enough to offer an out, sure enough to make clear he wasn’t stopping. Callused fingers brushed his jaw, the scrape of rough skin against smooth.
Dave’s pulse thundered. His hand lifted, settled over Stone’s wrist. Not to stop him. To keep him.
The tension snapped taut, humming with everything unspoken.
Then Stone leaned in, breath warm against his mouth.
Dave didn’t wait. He hauled Stone down and crashed their mouths together—hungry, hard, biting. His groan was swallowed in the heat between them.
There was no going slow. Dave rose to his knees, the bed dipping beneath their weight. Stone’s hands found him, rough palms sliding down his back, gripping his ass and lifting like he’d been waiting years for this.
Dave wrapped his pajama-clad legs around Stone’s hips. Stone straightened, lifting him as if he weighed nothing, folding them deeper onto the bed.
Christ. This was happening.
After years of wanting, of holding back—Dave was in his arms, on a bed, kissing him like he never planned to stop.
Stone’s hunger roared, but instinct made him hesitate. Supplies. They’d need lube.
“The nightstand,” Dave rasped against his jaw, like he’d read his mind.
Stone pulled away, yanked the drawer open, and grabbed the bottle. It landed beside them with a soft thud.
His shirt was gone in seconds, jeans shoved down. Dave matched him move for move, shrugging silk off his shoulders, skin flashing pale and hard under the low light.
Stone froze for half a beat when he saw him stripped down—Dave in tiny black briefs that clung to muscle and power, hair on his chest threaded with gray. Strong as hell, always demanding, and everything he had ever wanted.
“Hey,” Dave murmured, dragging him back with a hand on his arm—steel-gray eyes burned steady, no hesitation, just want.
He moved fast, crawling over Dave, pinning him down into the mattress. Hovering, he drank him in. Together. Finally. He wanted this past the bedroom—he wanted forever—but right now he’d take this. He tore the black briefs off with one hand.
Dave’s hand slipped down his stomach, nails catching lightly in the hair along his trail, then gripped his cock.
Stone groaned, dropping his mouth to Dave’s throat, careful not to mark but desperate to taste. Dave arched up, groaning back, legs sliding open to cradle him.
Their cocks pressed together—heat, friction, perfect.
Stone nearly lost it. He forced himself to breathe, to slow, to give Dave more than a rush of hunger.
But Dave had other plans.
With a wicked smile, Dave pushed him back and slid down his body, settling between his thighs. Before Stone could catch his breath, Dave’s mouth closed over his cock.
“Fuuuck,” Stone gasped, hands fisting in Dave’s dark hair.
Dave devoured him. Not careful, not teasing—just hungry, confident, practiced. Stone’s body arched, every nerve alight. He bit out curses, half-groans, half-prayers, and still Dave kept going.
The pressure built too fast, and panic flared—he wasn’t ready to come, not yet, not like this. He dragged Dave off, lips red and slick.
Dave wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then kissed him hard, sharing the taste, stealing his breath.
Stone rolled them, pinning Dave beneath him again. His hand found the lube, slicked his fingers, and pressed lower, stretching him slowly, carefully, until Dave growled and shoved at his arm.
“Enough. Now.”
Stone lined himself up, chest heaving. “Look at me.”
