“Don’t spoil it,” Apollo said without any real censure to his voice. Mainly he was pathetically grateful that Dylan wasn’t heading straight upstairs.
“I won’t.” Dylan’s voice was hoarse, and whether from shouting to be heard over bar music or something more extracurricular, Apollo couldn’t tell, and that was driving him crazy.
“Did you have a nice time?” he asked cautiously.
“Sure did.” Dylan gave him a wicked smile. “Funny thing. We ran into Ben at the Brass Rail. Guess I was wrong about him being on duty.”
Apollo let out a growl before he got control of himself. “You did?”
“Why do you care?” Dylan turned so that he was looking right into his eyes. “Really? Do you want a blow-by-blow? Is that a kink for you?”
“Blow-by-blow?” Apollo ground out.
“Yeah. You want to hear how we danced, how we—”
Apollo had had enough. He hauled Dylan closer, closing the gap between them, slamming his mouth down on Dylan’s with exactly zero finesse and a whole lot of anger that quickly transformed into a frantic need to kiss him until the only thing Dylan knew was this, until the memory of whatever had transpired earlier was blotted out.
Dylan tasted like mint and a hint of alcohol and surprise, but then he moaned, deepening the kiss, and all Apollo tasted was Dylan—unique and spicy and utterly addictive. They clawed their way closer, tongues tangling, hands grappling. He pulled him until Dylan was straddling his lap. Fuck. The weight on his thighs felt so right. He was the perfect height for this position.
Apollo broke away from the kiss to nip at Dylan’s jaw. “This? Did you do this?”
“Why. Does. It. Matter?” Dylan panted each word.
“Because.” Apollo met his mouth for a brutal kiss, one that Dylan eagerly met, sucking on Apollo’s tongue, and arching his back.
“Because you’re jealous.” Dylan ground down against Apollo. “Just admit it. You want to know every dirty thing I got up to because you wish it was you.”
“Yes. Goddamn it. Yes.” Apollo pulled him down for another kiss, seemingly unable to go more than twenty seconds without feeling Dylan’s lips on his.
“I wanted that too.” Dylan broke away from the kiss to whisper in Apollo’s ear. “Wanted it to be you I was dancing with.”
“Fuck.” Apollo’s head fell back as Dylan sucked on his earlobe.
“And dancing was all that happened.” Dylan’s breath was a warm kiss against Apollo’s ear, but all he felt was cool relief. “And not the grinding, one-step-from-public-sex dancing that I want from you, either. And damn you for being so in my head that I couldn’t even let him buy me a drink.”
“I was?” Apollo couldn’t contain the happiness leaching into his voice.
“Yes.” Dylan shoved at his shoulders. “Smug bastard.”
Apollo rewarded his admission with more kisses, gentler now, sucking on Dylan’s lower lip, taking his time. The first several buttons on Dylan’s shirt were already undone, and Apollo pushed Dylan backward so that he could trace the V of exposed skin with his tongue, fingers working to undo the remaining buttons until the shirt hung open.
He loved how fuzzy Dylan’s chest was—and yeah, he especially loved that Dylan hadn’t manscaped before his little adventure. Jealous bastard. He used his thumbs to flick at Dylan’s nipples.
“Oh. That.” Dylan rocked against him, licking his way back into Apollo’s mouth. Dylan yanked at Apollo’s T-shirt, exposing his stomach so that their bare skin rubbed.
“Fuck.” He tweaked Dylan’s nipple, just to make him moan into his mouth, make him thrash against his body.
“We should...go upstairs...right the fuck now,” Dylan panted, even as his hips didn’t slow down.
“Upstairs?” Everything in Apollo went cold and still, chasing the burning heat out. Upstairs. To the room he shared—had shared—with Neal. Fuck. What the hell was he doing here?
“Yeah. As in a room with a door and a lock.” Dylan laughed, hands smoothing over Apollo’s shoulders. “Hey? What’s—Oh.” Dylan’s hands stilled. Damn him for being such a mindreader. “My room is fine.”
Apollo’s head fell back, eyes slamming shut. He couldn’t look at all the hope and anticipation bubbling in Dylan’s eyes, not when his own head was so cluttered.
Dylan shifted on his lap, and he heard the click of the light next to the couch being turned off. “Third step from the top creaks. Here can work too—”
“We can’t do this.” Apollo stilled him before Dylan could kiss him again.
“Hey.” Ignoring the iron grip Apollo had on his hips, Dylan bent forward, breath ghosting across Apollo’s face. He cupped Apollo’s face. “I get it. This is the first time you’ve done this since... You don’t have to do anything, okay? Just let me make you feel good.”
Good. That was such a dangerous concept—it felt like he hadn’t felt good in years, but also like he didn’t deserve to ever feel it again.
Dylan kissed his neck, finding the spot where his shoulder and neck met, biting lightly. “This is nice, yeah?”
More than nice. Apollo moaned as Dylan’s tongue soothed the bite, which Dylan seemed to take as yes, sinking gracefully to his knees between Apollo’s spread legs. His mouth was warm and eager on Apollo’s chest and stomach, lavishing him with kisses. And for a moment, with his eyes still shut tightly, it was good. So good. Almost enough to ease past the river of guilt swamping him.
Then Dylan palmed his cock through his sweats, starting to ease the pants down. Apollo’s muscles tensed.
“Sssh. Let me take care of you.” Dylan licked along the edge of Apollo’s waistband. He was so damn sweet, offering this, not wanting anything for himself, just giving and giving with that generous mouth...
But Apollo couldn’t take.
“No.” He gently pushed Dylan away.
“No?” Dylan came to sit next to him on the couch, stroking Apollo’s arms and chest, tugging the shirt back into place. He flipped the light back on, an unwelcome flash of light behind Apollo’s eyelids. “Tell me what you need. What would make this better for you?”
“Nothing.” Nothing was ever going to feel right again. His dick was screaming at him to just take what Dylan was offering and to stop with the thinking, but the howls from his brain were louder.
“Would it help to go super slow? Go back to kissing? I could be down with that—”
“I just need to be alone. I need to think.” God, it felt that was all his brain could do. Think. His eyes finally opened, smarting against the soft light of the side lamp. Darkness was easier, matched the blackness in his soul. “Sort myself out. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Dylan’s voice was resigned, but he brushed a kiss against Apollo’s cheek before standing. “I’m going to be here when you finish sorting. Whenever that is.”