Ashton hadn't expected Dylan's mouth to be warm, or soft, or for him to taste like strawberry soda. He couldn't have planned for the awkwardness of it either; teeth clacking and noses bumping as they jockeyed for position. And Ashton really, really hadn't known how — just how fuckinggoodit could feel? To have Dylan's big hands pull him closer, sliding into his hair, gripping his shirt. Yanking him down against the smaller man as —
Oh God.
Ashton grunted as Dylan shoved him hard up against the closet wall, cock thickening in his pants as the man's body leanedintohim. Wanting more, needing more; surprise curling his hand along that strangely stubbed jaw and urging him to come closer still.
It was dizzying. It was electrifying. Dylan groaned into their kiss, and Ashton lapped it up, sighing as Dylan leaned in just a fraction more to — oh,damn— suck on Ashton's lower lip. Nipping it, teeth flashing hard and unyielding, no quarter given as he claimed Ashton's mouth once more.
Ashton gasped; shifting, shivering, submitting as Dylan slid his tongue inside him, seeking his own; drunk with need to see what else Dylan might do.
Sliding his hand up, Dylan's cropped burr met Ashton's fingers, the softly spiked texture an indulgence against his palm. His quest halted abruptly at the stiff-gelled seam of Dylan’s mohawk, running his fingertips wonderingly along its unfamiliar curve.
Like a cudgel, a knee wedged itself between Ashton's thighs, demanding entry, submission. And for a moment, Ashtonresisted. Bad enough Dylan was a guy, bad enough Ashton wasenjoyingthis. But to give in? To submit? He shouldn't, he knew he shouldn't. Should shove Dylan off and storm out of this little closet, find the nearest sorority girl and…
Ashton moaned, shifted, thighs parting around Dylan's as he pulled this man against him.Intohim. Dylan's tongue thrust hard between Ashton's lips as well, his grip tightening in Ashton's hair and shirt until Ashton couldn't eventhinkof taking back control.
Arching into Dylan's touch, a whine escaped Ashton's mouth, desperation filling him, the knowledge that he neededmore.
And — oh God — Dylan yanked Ashton's head down at the sound, angling justsoas he deepened their kiss, pushing him, challenging him, owning him. Hot and wet and firm and greedy and gasping and grasping; until Ashton's knees were weak with the fierceness of Dylan's claim.
It was all he could do not to just start grinding on Dylan's thigh, some small sliver of self shouting the urge down. That it'd be too far, that Ashton might never recover if — if he…
Dylan yanked Ashton's head back by the fist Dylan still had in his hair, roots aching, throat exposed to Dylan's closed-mouthed kisses and slick, sinful tongue. Ashton moaned; he couldn't help it, as unable to hold back the sound torn from him as he was to resist this onslaught waged on him by the other man. Wanting it, craving it too much to protest, to do anything but give in.
He needed to keep it down, though. He needed to get himself back under control. There was a whole Christmas party raging outside, and that door could swing open at any moment and —
And then there'd be a whole crowd to witness what he’s doing to me…
No. No, Ashton didn't want that. Didn't want any of this, except — Oh, Dylan's mouth was like a drug, like sweet honey, like a brawl Ashton was only happy to lose. Dylan groaned, surging against him, pressing so close the studs of his leather jacket no doubt had impressed themselves on Ashton's skin. God, he wanted that. Wanted to be marked and claimed; to leave here tonight with the tangible proof thatsomeonethought he was worth holding onto, worth keeping, worth claiming — even if just for a short while.
Ashton licked at Dylan's bottom lip, slipping into the space Dylan granted him when they parted; kissing him deep and moaning, begging Dylan for more.
When Dylan broke their kiss, he took Ashton's whine with him, protesting the sudden loss of everything as reality came hurtling toward him at speed.
Oh. Ohshit.
What in the fucking fuck had Ashton justdone?
"Clean yourself up, you look like shit," Dylan told him, and Ashton wanted to punch him, to kiss him, to drag him off into the bushes somewhere and…
He sucked in a sharp breath as Dylan leaned into him again, hands leaping to fit themselves to those satisfyingly grippable hips as Dylan whispered —
"See you in your dreams, asshole.”
Hands smoothed down the front of Ashton's shirt to tidy it, before suddenly he was gasping, squirming in surprise as his nipples erupted in sharp, delicious pain. But Dylen's pinching fingers dropped away just as quickly, leaving Ashton as confused as he was hungry for more.
"Ashton,” Dylan hissed. “C'mon, idiota – they're gonna open the door on us any second. Get your shit together, straight boy."
Oh. Right. A burst of laughter came from close by as Ashton adjusted his own clothing so things wouldn't be quite so obvious.
His head was filled with questions, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth move to ask any of them, lips and tongue still too busy tingling after Dylan's attentions. And when the party outside finally wrenched open the door? It was too late, much too late. Ashton had lost his chance. The light was blinding after being in the dark for so long. For a second, Ashton completely forgot where he was; eyes dazzled, skin buzzing, blood singing in his veins.
What the hell was he supposed todowith that?
"Hey, lovebirds!" someone shouted. "Time's up. Come on out."
"¡Qué, cabrón!" Dylan shouted, ready right out of the gate as he exploded from the closet's confines, Ashton trailing him uncertainly. "You all really just sit in there and say Hail Marys the whole time? Lame! Thought you said this game was exciting. Mi abuela gets more action on Sundays, may she rest in peace."
The crowd in the living room ate that up, laughing and whooping as Dylan strutted out like the cock of the walk, with all the confidence and swagger of a man twice his size.
