I did that. Pride made Dylan need to laugh, made him as stupid as every other emotion this man inspired in him.
Apollo pulled him down for a leisurely kiss. His lips were achingly tender and Dylan’s eyes closed again, his body holding still as surely as if there were a photographer capturing this moment. Because this, more than the fucking, more than the soul-rocking orgasm, was what he wanted to remember. Their eyes met, same as they had at the restaurant, like their very brains were linked—a single thought between them.
“Wow,” they both breathed at the same instant, then laughed because that was what they did. They laughed. They made joy. Joy making. Dylan kissed him back, willing a second thought across the brainwaves. Please let this be enough. Let me be enough.
“You’re incredible.” Apollo’s voice was full of affection and his hands on Dylan’s back were soothing and for a moment, it truly was enough. More than enough. It was everything.
Chapter Sixteen
Apollo put on his blinker as he headed for the bridge that linked Coronado with the mainland. A weird energy buzzed through his veins, making him push the speed limit and be grateful for the light Sunday morning traffic. He was used to racing a ticking clock—training times to beat, countdown to a mission, precious minutes to complete a rescue, seconds while the explosives expert neutralized a bomb, and even at home, he was outrunning the to-do list from the moment he woke up, constantly aware of each day that took him further away from Neal, each milestone that marked the kids growing up.
But this was new, this urgency to get home, get back to Dylan before their weekend together expired. He’d had to head to the base in the early morning hours to check on a training exercise scheduled for that weekend, leaving Dylan sleeping in the bed, resisting the urge to wake him up with his mouth. He’s thought there would be plenty of time for that later, but his work at the base had taken longer than he’d hoped, and now he was racing the damn clock to get back, get one more encounter with Dylan before the girls returned. Even with his eyes on the road, his brain kept flashing back to memories of the past thirty-six hours.
“Get on your knees.”
“Your back—”
“Want to watch your face in the mirror while I take you from behind.”
“You’re a bit obsessed with the mirror, you know that?”
“Yup,” Apollo said without shame. The mirror was hot and new, just like Dylan.
Yesterday they’d spent pretty much the whole damn day in bed, something Apollo hadn’t done since... Well, he wasn’t going think about that. What he had with Dylan was so completely different than what he’d shared with Neal, and it seemed increasingly weird to let thoughts of Neal creep in. Comparisons didn’t really do anything other than make him feel guilty for enjoying this...thing with Dylan.
“You know I’m going to have to cite you for this unauthorized use of syrup.” Apollo joked even as Dylan’s mouth traced a sticky path down his chest.
“Hey, I said I was starving. I just didn’t say for what.” Dylan winked at him.
And enjoying himself was something that was way, way too easy with Dylan around. Their dynamic was so different than anything else he’d experienced. Dirtier. More carnal. Needier. This sex strung him out like a HALO jump, pure adrenaline with just enough terror about the unknown to keep him on edge. Like a jump, he buzzed for hours after, but luckily he had years of practice in hiding his jangly nerves.
“Oh my God. You’re...that was... Pretty sure I’m never thinking a full thought again.” Dylan laughed as he flopped against the sheets.
His satisfied grin did something to Apollo’s insides, made it so that he could only say, “Yeah.” Meanwhile, entire stanzas of poetry welled up in his throat, stupid words about how beautiful Dylan looked when he came apart, how him begging Apollo to let him come was his new favorite thing on the planet, how he wanted a tape of the sounds Dylan made, and how he couldn’t get enough of this.
Apollo grabbed a pillow, turning his face into it, unable to keep looking at Dylan’s shining face, unable to think about what all this meant. Because telling himself “it’s just sex” wasn’t working anymore, not when his soul kept singing at each of Dylan’s happy sighs and unguarded looks of pure delight.
Right then, as he turned toward his neighborhood, all Apollo wanted was another chance to earn one of those looks. He’d come up behind Dylan, kiss that sensitive place on the back of his neck, wrap him up close. Maybe drag him out to the backyard and the hot tub—after all that time shut up in Dylan’s room they needed some fresh air and water and he could practically taste the chlorine on Dylan’s skin already. Come on—
Girls. Heck. That was what he should have been thinking about on the drive back. The return of the girls. Because there was Marilyn’s and Pat’s SUV in his driveway as he pulled in. He tried to banish all his sexy thoughts as he took a few steadying breaths. No more fantasies. No more interludes. Back to real life.
“Baba!” Both girls raced for him as soon as he opened the door. They dragged him to the kitchen, where Dylan stood talking with Marilyn and Pat. He looked good in a T-shirt and pull-on shorts and bare feet and despite himself, Apollo’s thoughts flittered back to his fantasies. Like wanting to bury his face in that neck—
Oh crap. Was that beard burn on Dylan’s neck? Or maybe a very light hickey? No one’s fault but yours.
“We got you a present!” Sophia interrupted his internal freakout with a tug on his uniform.
“Something sweet,” Chloe added.
Please don’t be fudge. Please don’t be fudge. Please don’t be—
“Fudge.” Pat held out a little bag from the Disney fudge shop. “The girls picked out a few flavors for you.”
Neal had always been a hopeless chocoholic, and fudge was his particular weakness. They’d even served it at the wedding, and Marilyn and Pat were always bringing him new varieties to try. Apollo had always gamely taken a few bites, but the stuff was too sweet for him. And now? Now he couldn’t hardly stomach the sight without memories of Neal swamping him. He offered what he was sure was a strained smile as he accepted the bag.
I’m not Neal, he wanted to remind them, but of course he couldn’t. He owed the pair of them so much. He could stomach a little fudge. And guilt. Because however Marilyn had meant the dinner voucher at Christmas, she surely hadn’t intended that he spend his weekend wrapped up in Dylan like this. They’d be horrified.
Or maybe that’s just you. It was hard to say which was worse—his imagined reaction of his in-laws or his own growing remorse at how he’d been acting. Time to pull back. Get back to normal.
He lifted Sophia up, ignoring the twinge in his back that reminded him how well-used all his muscles were. “Thank you,” he said to the girls and their grandmothers.