Dylan letting him decide what he was up for made warmth spread across his chest. Dylan was so fucking sweet. He deserved more than some frantic bathroom makeout session, more than Apollo grunting out, “yeah,” like real conversation, real thought might undo him. A better man would end this right here, not groan like he’d been shot when Dylan palmed him through the fabric.
“Geez. Such a cliché.” Dylan’s laugh was almost like a kiss itself, friendly and reassuring. “Big, bad, hung SEAL. Surely not all of you are packing like porn stars, but damn you are, and it’s so fucking sexy.”
“Kiss me,” Apollo commanded. He didn’t want to stop to talk about how he was hung. Didn’t want to stop and think period. Best way he knew to shut Dylan up was with his mouth, with more opiate-powerful kisses, the ones that numbed all the objections in his brain until all he wanted was to feel. Feel more of Dylan’s lips. More of his gasps and moans. Feel his grip, sure and strong on Apollo’s cock. Dylan shoved Apollo’s pants down, and the first touch of his fingers on Apollo’s bare dick had his head thrashing against the wall.
His hand tightened on Dylan’s back even as his other hand scrambled for the zipper on Dylan’s cargo shorts. Heck. Why couldn’t he find it? A frustrated noise escaped his throat.
“No zipper.” Dylan let go of Apollo long enough to shove his shorts down. Then his mouth returned to Apollo’s, hand finding his dick again, and all was right with the world. Apollo would give up an awful lot just to live in this moment permanently. Dylan’s dick painted a damp, insistent strip against Apollo’s upper thigh.
“Touch me.” Dylan left a trail of kisses along Apollo’s jaw. “Please.”
“Yeah.” Right then, that was all Apollo wanted too, his hand stroking Dylan’s thick cock. His cock wasn’t especially long, but it more than made up for it in girth and heft. A thick vein wound its way around the shaft, and Apollo traced that with his thumb as he stroked.
More than the touch on his own cock, Dylan’s gasps of pleasure got Apollo perilously close to the edge.
“Close,” he mumbled against Dylan’s mouth who responded with another blistering kiss and speeding up his strokes.
“Me too. Get there with me.” Dylan rutted into Apollo’s fist, hips bumping together as they moved and moaned together.
Dylan sucked on Apollo’s tongue at the same moment he unleashed a new twisty stroke, and that was all it took.
“Oh God. Oh fuck. Fuck.” Apollo had never been one to master the art of a silent orgasm, and he moaned against Dylan’s mouth. After so many months of his own touch, it felt like his soul was wrenched open, like he could never stop shouting from how good it felt, how right.
“Me too. Oh yeah. Don’t stop.” Their words jumbled and mingled as Dylan came too, hot spurts that coated Apollo’s fist.
“Fuck. Your back.” Dylan broke away first. “Doing okay?”
“Yeah.” Everything had tightened up with the force of his orgasm, but the endorphins kept pain at bay.
“Back in the shower.” Dylan shoved him toward the tub. “You rinse off and loosen up those muscles and I’ll heat our food back up.”
“That...that is...” Apollo struggled to keep up with how damn normal Dylan was acting. Every molecule in Apollo had rearranged itself, and Dylan was back to hovering over his flare-up.
“I’d tell you not to think, but it’s probably too late for that.” Dylan patted Apollo’s face. “One step at a time, okay? Shower. Then food. Then we can talk.”
Dylan busied himself in washing up at the sink, leaving Apollo to step under the shower. Talk. That was the last thing Apollo wanted. It would be easier to pretend that this hadn’t just happened, that they hadn’t kissed and ground together like desperate animals. But it had, and as the warm water hit his face, Apollo groaned. There was no avoiding that truth. Or the talking.
Fuck. Maybe he could just stay in here until he grew gills.
Chapter Eleven
Dylan groaned as he made Apollo a fresh sandwich. And not the sexy kind of groaning he’d been up to ten minutes ago. More the shit-is-ruined kind of groaning that applied to both the first set of cold, soggy sandwiches and his and Apollo’s friendship. Apollo was freaked out—that much had been clear by the panic flashing in his eyes as soon as he’d finished coming. His retreat had been so palpable that Dylan had shoved him back in the shower before the inevitable “this was a mistake” lecture could start.
“Oh hey, you didn’t have to make new sandwiches.” Back in his flannel pants with a towel around his neck, Apollo approached the stove.
“You didn’t call for me!” Dylan waved the spatula at him. “I would have helped you dress.”
“Eh.” Apollo shrugged. “I managed. Skipped the shirt and sat down for the pants. Man, I hate how stiff I am.”
“Here.” Dylan handed him the two prescription bottles he brought downstairs. “You better stay on top of the pain and take something.”
“God, I do not want to be stoned out of my gourd again.” Apollo held up the bottle of muscle relaxers to the light, like he was looking for a baby dragon inside the bottle. “I’ve done enough stupid stuff as it is.”
And there it was, the regret Dylan had been expecting. But it still stung, all the same. Careful to keep his face neutral, he slid the sandwich onto a plate, then grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “Take the meds. Not taking them, now that would be stupid. But what just happened, that was just two guys blowing off steam. Not stupid.”
He gave Apollo the water and carried the plates to the table, not letting himself study Apollo’s face. He didn’t need to know the depth of Apollo’s despair over a spontaneous handjob.
“That’s all it was? Blowing off steam?” Apollo took a seat opposite him at the table.
“Yup.” Dylan took a bite of his sandwich, buying time to gather the right words. “We’ve been dancing around this attraction for weeks now. Something was bound to happen.”
“I don’t believe in inevitable.” Apollo punctuated his words with a large bite. “Damn, this is good. You were right—it’s the perfect late night food. But back to what I was saying—nothing is inevitable. And we can’t make the same mistake twice.”
Dylan’s chest gave an unhappy twinge. He shouldn’t be surprised or hurt that Apollo called him a mistake. Of course, Apollo was going to have some serious guilt and feels. But still, he hated that one of the single hottest moments of his life was reduced to a mistake. “Sure we can.”
Apollo frowned and his eyes narrowed. “Look. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression here. You’re a great—”
“You say ‘great kid’ and I’m going to pop you, injured or not.” Dylan sighed and set his sandwich down. “And you’re thinking in black and white where the only alternatives are never touching again and some grand romance that neither of us wants.”