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Aftera stunned second,Ikiss him back.Iwant to go easy and let him set the pace, but when he moans like he’s been thinking about this all day,Ican’t stop myself.Mygrip on his neck tightens andIstart really tongue fucking him.Helets out a series of the most gorgeous, hungry whimpers, one with each stroke of my tongue.Hisleg hooks behind mine as his arms tighten around my neck and he rocks his clothed hips against my naked ones.
Withoutbreaking the kiss,Igrab his thigh and help him jump up to wrap his legs around my waist.Luckyfor him,Ihave enough balance and strength to hold him against my chest without slipping and killing us both.Hiswhole body shivers in my arms as he drops slow, careful kisses against my lips that make my head spin.
Everyinch of him is drenched now, but he just rests his forehead against mine and runs his fingers through my hair. “You’rea good man,BeckhamAlexander,” he whispers breathlessly.
Ahard knot in my chest tightens.AllI’vedone lately is lie and hurt people. “I’mnot–”
“No, stop.”Herests two wet fingers against my mouth. “Youare a good, good man.Ihaven’t found answers for the parts of this that scare me, butI’vedecidedIdon’t care anymore.”Asmile pulls at the corner of his mouth as his eyes fill with a warmth that takes my breath away. “Iwant whatever answer meansIget to have you.”
Histhighs tighten around my hips, and he ducks his head to lightly rub the tips of our noses together.Myheart claimed him the second he wandered into my trailer, smelling like he hadn’t showered in a week, and asked me whyIdidn’t have paprika.Mine,Dallas.Dallas, mine.Likea heartbeat in my brain that never shuts up.
ButIthink he just claimed me back.Forgood.Forever.Becausenothing about us has ever been casual.
Hestoppedworryingfor me.Tohim, that’s a bigger ask than dying for someone.
Hegot his clothes wet for me.Hisperfect hair.
Thisboy is my soul.
Thenthe hot water runs out all at once.Dallasgives a muffled scream into my shoulder as an ice-cold waterfall douses us.Cussingup a storm,Itry to scramble past the curtain without falling.Myfoot slips on the linoleum, butIcatch us by dumping his ass on the bathroom counter and crash-landing on top of him.Hefalls back against the mirror, hugging himself and laughing so hard he can’t breathe. “Ohmy god,” is all he can gasp out before he chokes on another fit of giggles.
Wehave four towels on the rack–red forScout, blue forRoman, tan forDal, and black for me.Igrab the tan and black ones and come back to where he’s shivering in his drenched clothes, half from laughter and half from cold. “Didthey have an open vodka bar or something at your shift today?”I’venever seen soberDalact like this.
“Nope.”WhenIdrop the towel on his head, he wraps it around his face like a little old lady’s bonnet and grins at me. “I’mjust really, really happy.Giveme another five minutes beforeIcrash violently back to reality.”
Iprop my hand against the mirror next to his head and lean in, my dick brushing his leg.Hehad his first kiss last night and his second one like thirty seconds ago, but he’s already a hungry little thing for it, tilting his head and parting his lips eagerly.Istop an inch away, studying his face, then pull back a little. “You’remine now,”Iwhisper. “AndIcan make you wait.”
WhenIstraighten up, his cheeks have gone bright red. “You’resuch a massive shit sandwich,” he growls, snatching his towel off his head and burying his face in it. “Don’tlook at me.”
“Idid some research this afternoon,”Ioffer onceI’vescrubbed myself down and pulled on my sweats. “Fora way to make the sex thing less…awkward.”
Helifts his face from the towel and raises a confused eyebrow at me. “Youdid what?”
There’sno normal way to start this conversation. “I’mgonna go smoke.Youshould come out when you’re dry.”
Likehe just noticed them for the first time, he looks down at his soaked clothes, then back at me.Iwant to help him strip, to lick water off every inch of him while he grips my hair so hard it hurts.I’mtrying to control myself, but his kiss ripped the lid off a tightly sealed box in my brain that’s chock-full ofDallasporn.Everypart of himIcould touch with every part of me, what would make him beg the hardest, how many timesIcould make him come in a row.
Squeezinghis hand,Itake a step back soIcan cool off.Thingsare gonna get weird tonight, andIdon’t want to make it even more confusing. “Seeyou in a sec.”
WhenIget to the kitchen,RomanandScoutare playing cards at the table with an open box of cold pizza next to them. “Wherethe hell did you get this?”Ireach around the lid and grab the last slice–pepperoni and sausage.It’sthe thick kind with plenty of cheese and little crunchy bits on the bottom of the crust.
“Dallasbrought it home,”Scoutmuses, studying his cards. “Hestayed late to help his boss do inventory, and the man bought pizzaandlet him keep the leftovers.
“That’sthe best fucking job ever,”Isay with my mouth full, savoring the explosion of salt and grease.Romangrunts in agreement as he picks up the box and dumps the extra bits of sausage straight into his mouth.Theonly pizza we can ever afford, if we splurge, is as thick as a piece of paper and comes with about five pepperonis.
“Wantme to deal you in?”Scoutasks. “Dallastoo, if he hurries up.”
Ishake my head. “It’snice out.DalandIwere gonna stargaze a little.”
Scoutshrugs me off, butRomantilts his head and studies me with a searching look that makes me pretty sureDallastold him something.Whateverhe sees in my face, he grins and signsgood luck.Ipunch his shoulder, then take my pizza outside to sit on the hood of theCivic, which is still a little warm fromDallas’ drive home.Theflick of my lighter sounds loud in the hushed quiet asIlight up my once-a-week cigarette and alternate pulls with finishing my pizza.
Myhead shoots up whenIhear the back door shut.Dallaspicks his way over in his floppy sandals, with a towel wrapped around his hair.Mydick perks up whenIrealize he’s wearing my blackNASCARhoodie over a pair of skimpy shorts.Thesuspension squeaks as he hops his butt up next to mine.
Silencesbetween us have never been awkward, but this one feels unsure.Everythingwe relied on is shifting and changing, and neither of us knows how to navigate in the direction we want to go.Dallasholds out his hand abruptly for my cigarette.WhenIgive it to him, he studies it on all sides like he’s never seen one before, then tries to take a pull.
“Ohfuckthat’s vile.”Heflaps his hands in distress, andIhave to snag the cig back to stop him from setting himself on fire.Tryingto hold in the coughing, he buries his face in his sleeve. “Whydo you do that?”
Ishrug. “Habit,Iguess.Itseems likeIhave a lot of bad habits.”Istudy the half-finished cigarette, then put it out and flick it into the gravel.
