“Yup.” Apollo worked two lube-slicked fingers into Dylan. “Scoot back. I want you just like this, want to watch your face.”
“You’re going to give me a complex.” Dylan rolled his eyes. “My ‘come face’ is hardly special.”
“Says you.” Apollo came up over him, spreading Dylan’s legs wider with his body, hooking his knees over his elbows. He pressed in slow, watching the expressions morph on Dylan’s face. Complex or no, he was gorgeous, the way he squished his eyes shut and exhaled in little pants as Apollo eased deeper.
“Mmm. Oh. Fuuuuuck.” The need in Dylan’s voice spurred Apollo deeper. “Come on. Fuck.”
“You should know by now that we do this at my pace.” Apollo’s quads burned with the effort of holding back. Dylan was tight, even after all the play, and hot and the way his muscles clung to Apollo on every upstroke had him fighting the urge to recklessly pound.
Dylan yanked Apollo down, face fierce as he said, “I both love and hate you right now.”
Love. That wasn’t what this was, wasn’t what it was supposed to be, and Dylan meant the words as joke, but still, something jostled loose in a corner of Apollo’s chest, an unexpected thrill at the idea, not the outright terror he would have expected.
I don’t want to feel the things I do for you. Apollo’s hands tightened on Dylan’s legs. This wasn’t supposed to be about feelings, but somehow it was, all tangled up with the fun and the laughing and the sheer eroticism of joining together. Watching Dylan’s unfiltered expression was almost too much for him. He should have Dylan flip, get some distance, but Dylan clearly had a different agenda as he pulled Apollo in for a ravenous kiss, one that felt like Dylan wanted to gobble up Apollo’s very soul—like he saw all Apollo’s hesitation and vulnerability and wasn’t fazed at all.
No, Dylan, both fearless and trusting at the same time, demanded everything Apollo had to give, didn’t shy away from his messy emotions. That was one thing that Apollo truly enjoyed about Dylan—he didn’t scare easily, didn’t back down, didn’t stop asking for what he needed and wanted.
“Come on. Faster,” Dylan demanded against Apollo’s lips.
“You don’t give up, do you?” Apollo laughed before reclaiming his mouth.
“Never.” Dylan broke away, panting hard. He tried to worm a hand in between them to reach for his cock, but Apollo stopped him.
“Not yet. Want this to last.”
“You can keep going after I come,” Dylan wheedled. “Promise.”
“Ha.” Apollo could totally get addicted to this laughing-during-sex business. “You say that now. And where’s the fun in that?”
“You just want me to beg.” Dylan’s breath hitched on the last word as Apollo shifted his hips, started more deliberate thrusts.
“Yup.” Apollo grinned down at him, working that angle until Dylan was clutching at him.
“Evil, evil, evil...fuck. I need...more.”
Apollo fucking loved Dylan incoherent. “Yeah, that’s right. Take it. Take my cock.”
Dylan moaned, a low, feral sound. “Harder. Please harder.”
“Yeah.” Despite his resolve, Apollo’s strokes quickened and deepened as he gave in to the urge to let go. Knowing that Dylan could take it, that he demanded it, made Apollo’s pulse thrum. Not having to hold back was such a fucking rush.
His balls tightened, and he forced himself back from the edge, slowing it down again, loving how Dylan whimpered and grasped at him. “Bastard. Need to come. So bad. Get me there. Please.”
“I will,” Apollo promised.
“Now.” Dylan bucked, his cock bouncing against his stomach, painting a slick trail that made Apollo’s mouth water and made him wish he had far more flexibility. Instead, he reached for it, stroking with the lightest grip he was capable of.
“Oh you...more. Please, okay, please.”
“That’s it. Tell me what you need.”
“Make me come. Please make me come. Use your hand on my dick. Please.”
“Oh yeah.” Apollo’s whole body hummed, and he picked up speed again, matching his hand to his hips’ tempo.
“Gonna come.” Dylan’s eyes squished shut and his body practically levitated with tension, back arching, arms straining, ass lifting. “Apollo.”
“Right with you.” Apollo couldn’t have stopped his orgasm even for a flashbang right then. Dylan’s clutching grasp and needy sounds made it impossible not to join him, not to give in to the driving need for completion.
A warm splash hit Apollo’s stomach and he was done, muffling his shout against Dylan’s face. It felt like dying, every damn time with Dylan, like the force of his orgasm might do him in, like he wasn’t possibly strong enough to bear it. Which was ridiculous because he was strong enough for anything the world threw at him, and yet, this guy completely unmanned him, turned him inside out, made him weak even as power surged through him.
Afterward, he pulled out carefully, grabbing the towel from the floor to wipe them off before collapsing next to Dylan. Dylan snuggled into him, head on Apollo’s shoulder, body warm in his arms.
“Don’t leave yet, m’kay?” Dylan murmured. Something in his voice made it hard for Apollo to breathe.
“I won’t.” Apollo blindly reached for the alarm clock, feeling for the buttons.
“Whatcha doing?” Dylan turned in his arms.
“Setting an alarm. I should be back in my bed before the girls wake up, but I want to sleep with you awhile.” Apollo couldn’t articulate why it was so hard to leave this man, why he needed more time skin to skin, more time with Dylan pressed against him.
“You going to get weird on me in the morning?” Dylan opened one eye, staring Apollo down with accusation that he totally deserved. He had been running hot and cold on Dylan for weeks now.
“No.” Apollo’s laugh was a bit shaky. “Or at least I hope not. We’ve only got so much time left. No point in wasting it.”
“Agreed.” Dylan sighed, and Apollo tried not to hear the sadness in his voice. Fuck. He wished so many things. He wished he were different and could give Dylan what he needed, what he deserved. Wished the summer could stretch on endlessly. Wished they could simply stay in bed, no pesky real world intruding. But Apollo knew well and good that wishes were nothing more than dust held together with hope, impossible to hold and foolish to dwell on. Life was full of bittersweet truth, not wishes, and he needed to remember that even as he pulled Dylan closer.
Chapter Eighteen