Page 63 of Laken's longing

Tonight, I celebrate my love for you, and hope that deep inside you'll feel it too. Tonight, our spirits will be climbing, to a sky lit up with diamonds.The words expressed his feelings better than Laken could articulate.

They reached for each other; Laken totally lost in the moment. There was only Isley, nothing else mattered. His past. The mistakes he’d made. The distance he’d purposefully put between them even before he acknowledged to himself how much he wanted Isley.

His sugar glider, as usual, didn’t follow any pattern and leapt into his arms, wrapping himself around him. He drank in Isley’s scent, his warmth, the affection he gave so freely. Laken followed Isley’s direction, and swayed in time to the music, moving them in circles as Isley’s gaze never wavered from his, his eyes speaking the words of the song.

Tonight, there'll be no distance between us. What I want most to do is to get close to you.

Laken’s body reacted to the depth of emotion Isley expressed. Visibly struggling to hold it together, Laken’s hands trembled against Isley’s ass, pressing them closer together. Their lips met in a heated exchange. He was drowning in the sensual onslaught of the kiss. It was like no other he’d experienced when Isley teased with gentle nips, his tongue seeking entry, then sliding between Laken’s like it was his sole right to do so. He owned Laken in that moment.

Isley’s taste was sweeter than champagne and more decadent than chocolate fudge cake. He felt the vibration of Isley’s groans of pleasure reverberate through him. The heat of the kiss stole his breath, and he gasped for air as lips trailed down his throat, sucking and licking at the damp skin. Laken hadn’t experienced such a flood of desire from something so simple. It washed away all sensible thought that they were in a crowded room—albeit dark—where anyone could see them grinding on each other. Laken wasn’t Jupiter, he wasn’t an exhibitionist, but he couldn’t have stopped if the building was on fire.

Isley’s dick pressed against Laken’s stomach. With each roll of Isley’s slim hips it rubbed, making Laken wish he could feel it against his skin. The glide of satiny skin slick with pre-come.

Tiny fingers slid through Laken’s hair, holding him firm and angling his head the way Isley wanted, taking his lips hungrily, deepening the kiss until Laken’s dick was a sticky mess in his underwear. The kiss was somehow directly connected to his cock. Isley's tilting hips, rhythmically moving in a slow grind, matched how he sucked on Laken’s tongue, making it impossible to think about stopping.

Breathless and flushed with arousal, Isley dragged his mouth away to catch his breath. Laken had other ideas and chased his lips. He could taste the hunger pouring from Isley as he dove back in and licked his way into Isley’s mouth, tasting and exploring, swallowing each whimper as he discovered what made Isley moan.

Isley panted against his lips, “I’m skating the edge.”

He really didn’t want Isley to come in his pants. One more kiss from that potent mouth and Laken wasn’t sure that he was in a much better position. Sounds filtered in past the haze of lust and had him shake his head to clear it.

“We need to leave before I do something stupid.”

It took a second to register with those sultry hip movements, that Isley heard nothing with his headphones blocking sound and blaring music as he came back in seeking his lips.

Moving to hold Isley with one hand, not that he was going anywhere with how those slim legs were hooked tightly around Laken, he freed a hand to move Isley’s headphones. “You fucking gorgeous creature. If you keep that up you won’t be skating the edge. We will be giving this crowd a dance show quite unlike any they’ve ever seen.”

A lusty, unrepentant grin got Laken practically running through the crowd to where he thought the door was. He hardly noticed when he knocked into a couple of people as Isley ran his fingers over the back of his neck, squeezing possessively, his eyes glassy with lust, encouraging Laken to find a flat surface.

“Gonna make you pay for this,” he growled as he reached the door, each step chafing his dick in the tight confines of his jeans.

“Can’t wait,” Isley murmured against his throat, his hot breath on Laken’s damp skin adding to his suffering.

How they managed to act with some semblance of decorum, dropping off the headphones and locker keys after grabbing their stuff, Laken didn’t think too hard on. The real problem was that outside, Isley refused to let go of him. Getting them to the car and driving back to Isley’s without crashing when Isley wouldn’t stop touching him was a miracle.

He didn’t notice the paint dust clinging to the leather or clothing. He didn’t think about the bags of clothing he’d thrown in the trunk with Isley diving for him the second they got out of the car.

“Keys,” he begged, “where are your door keys?”

Hot, wet lips sucked at the pulse point at the junction of his neck. It bounced against the onslaught as Laken blindly staggered to the front of Isley’s building.

“Keys,” he gasped again, trying once more before he did something utterly out of character and pressed Isley against the door and tore off his pants, his need thrashing harder than a sea in a force ten gale. It didn’t matter that it was late afternoon and there was enough daylight that they’d been seen. That it was cold enough to make his skin tingle. None of that mattered when he wanted them naked, and those soft, plump lips around his dick.

Isley’s soft pants hit Laken’s face, and his glazed eyes blinked slowly as if trying to comprehend what Laken was saying. It was an ego boost, and he chuckled, kissing Isley swiftly.

“Key’s, love. We need them.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Isley

Isley got the one remaining brain cell that hadn’t relocated to his dick to make sense of what Laken wanted. He rooted in his leather coat, grinning widely when he found the keys. “Here!”

Laken took them with an unsteady hand as he moved Isley onto his left hip, not putting him down. He had never been carried around by anyone before, or not like this. It was like Laken couldn’t bear to be parted from him. Laken didn’t need to worry, Isley wanted to stay right where he was, forever, if given the chance.

In his rush, Laken hadn’t bothered to put his denim jacket back on and Isley could see the pulse fluttering at the side of his throat. Resting his head on Laken’s shoulder, he licked a strip up the side of his neck, tasting the paint powder and salty skin. His tongue came to rest against the rapid pulse and he swore he could taste Laken's need.

A groan tore from Laken, sounding anguished when Isley nestled closer to suck hard enough to mark. A primitive urgehe didn’t deny himself when nothing was going to stop him doing all the things he’d imagined—once they were inside his apartment.