Tipsy. Ah, that was it. Dylan was definitely buzzing, and the usually rock-solid Apollo had to be doing the same. That explained the laughing and the touching and the unrestrained eagerness. Darn it. Dylan wished that just this...whatever it was between them was enough, that it could be the sole source of Apollo’s sudden mood shift, that he alone could intoxicate Apollo to this affectionate state.
The lights of downtown beckoned as the boat approached the dock. Wanting more with this man was as foolish as trying to harness the flickering lights of the tall buildings. And yet...
I want it all. He wanted the job in San Diego, a future together, and an endless stream of nights like this. Spinning, he grabbed Apollo’s shirt with greedy hands. Behind them some passengers whooped, but Dylan didn’t pay them any heed, instead kissing Apollo with all his mixed-up emotions and weird need. He put every last emo feel into this moment, this memory. Emotions were stupid. Lust, now lust he could handle.
“Whoa.” Apollo pulled away, breathing hard, eyes glassy. “We need a room quick before we commit public indecency.”
“Your command wouldn’t appreciate that,” Dylan said, letting himself be steered down the ramp, and off the boat.
“Come on.” Apollo tugged him in the direction of the parking lot. “Need to get you home before you tempt me into the backseat of the car—”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Dylan winked at him and sped up his steps.
“We are not doing this in the parking lot,” Apollo said firmly as he easily caught up to Dylan. “And no shenanigans while I’m driving.”
“Who says you’re driving?” Dylan put a dirty lilt on the question, fishing out his set of keys for emphasis. It still felt kind of weird, having keys to so much of this man’s life yet not really sharing any of it.
“Fresh air chased away my buzz, but you’re still toasty.” Apollo shoved him into the passenger seat. Dylan didn’t argue with the assessment, but if not the alcohol, then what was with the PDA from Apollo? The laughing? Just like that, Dylan was cast back into a sea of doubts. Not a date, he reminded himself even as his heart thumped faster. “But if you’re hung up on driving, we can flip for it when we get back to the house.”
“Seriously?” Dylan would have pegged Apollo as an exclusive top.
Apollo shrugged as he started the car. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you for weeks now, but I’m not opposed to the other. God, knows you hint about it enough.” He gave Dylan a lopsided smile. “And right now, tonight, all I want is to make you happy.”
You. You make happy. The words welled up in Dylan’s mouth. Maybe Apollo couldn’t ever care the way Dylan wanted him to, but he did care, at least a little. The ferry ride. The dinner. This offer. It was almost more than his heart could take. So rather than risk going all emo again, he forced a laugh out. “How about we race for it? First one to my bed gets to pick.”
“It’s a deal.” The air practically crackled on the quick drive to Apollo’s neighborhood, and Dylan acted all eager to reach for his door when in truth he intended to let Apollo win. They both scrambled out of the car, racing for the door where Apollo fumbled the keys, then jostled each other toward the stairs.
“That as fast as you can go?” Apollo looked back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, now it’s on.” Dylan’s competitiveness kicked in and good intentions fled out the window as he sprinted for his room. At the last minute, Apollo grabbed him around the waist and they tumbled to his bed in a heap of limbs and laughter.
“Oof.” Apollo’s face screwed up in a wince.
“Fuck. Your back.” Race forgotten, Dylan peered down at Apollo. “I forgot—”
“And I wanted you to. I’m able to do a silly race, for crying out loud.” The tight lines around Apollo’s mouth belied his words. “It’s nothing. Just a little twinge.”
“If you say so, but we don’t have to—”
“Oh yes, we do,” Apollo growled, pulling him down for a kiss. “Someone’s getting fucked. Hell, I don’t even care if I can walk after.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Dylan kissed him again, carefully settling his weight against Apollo’s torso, groaning as their chests met and his aching groin connected with Apollo’s hip.
He nipped at Apollo’s lips, trying to chase the pain away the only way he knew how. But like always, Apollo met him eagerly, taking over the lead, giving more than he got, rendering Dylan the breathless one. Apollo palmed his ass, pulling their bodies more fully together, their erections meeting. And even through layers of fabric, he could still feel Apollo’s heat.
“Too many clothes.” Apollo pulled away from the kiss with a groan. “You really want to help, you could fix that.”
“That I can do.” Dylan sat up enough to strip off his shirt, then started in on Apollo’s buttons, unable to resist the impulse to kiss each bit of skin he exposed. Apollo’s stomach vibrated tension, almost as if he wasn’t sure how to deal with this attention.
Too bad. You’re all mine. Dylan laughed softly to himself before tonguing a flat nipple. He tortured Apollo with little licks and nibbles until Apollo was groaning and cursing under him.
Apollo grabbed Dylan’s hand, dragging it to the cock straining against his pants. “Stop playing.”
“Why? I like it.” Dylan mock-pouted even as his hands went to Apollo’s belt.
“And I like you naked and back here for me to kiss.”
“Sure you don’t want me doing the kissing?” Dylan dipped his head and licked a trail along Apollo’s waistband. “Nothing you’d rather I kiss?”
“Brat.” Apollo dragged him up, mouth latching hungrily on to his own. The guy might be bossy as fuck but he could kiss. The kind of kisses that made Dylan stupid, long, leisurely explorations that never relinquished control and yet made him feel larger than life, bigger than himself if such a thing were possible.
Apollo’s hands worked at Dylan’s fly, long fingers tracing his cock through the fabric before freeing him. A bit of jostling and his pants were off. Dylan returned the favor, pulling Apollo’s pants down and withdrawing his dick, and then—heaven—Apollo shoved his hands aside and ground them together. How the fuck did the man manage to make near-combat-level making out so sexy?
“Tell me what you want,” Apollo commanded, authoritatively licking at Dylan’s neck.
“Uh...” The man really did make every last one of Dylan’s brain cells take a vacation, and Apollo didn’t help matters, massaging and cupping his ass, fingers tracing his crack. All Dylan could do was groan.
“Want to fuck me? Would that get you off?” Apollo’s voice was a low lick of seductive promise.
“Oh...fuck.” He panted as Apollo traced circles around his rim. “You don’t play fair.”
“Never said I did.” Apollo’s grin was lethal.
“Want to get fucked.” He pushed back against Apollo’s questing fingers. “Please.”