“You’re welcome to come visit the guest room any time.” Apollo chuckled, then got serious as he sat up on the bed. “But you don’t have to either—I heard what you said that night. I want you for you. Not because the girls adore you or because I want live-in help, but for you.”
Dylan bit his lip hard to keep the tears that kept threatening at bay. He hadn’t realized until this moment how badly he needed to hear that. All day he’d been fighting a losing battle against his emotions, against the need to forgive Apollo, to love him again. To trust in this thing—more than tattoos, more than paint jobs and empty ring fingers, he’d needed that trust, those words from this man. His man.
“Come here.” His voice was husky, giving away too much, but he didn’t care as he straddled Apollo’s lap. “I want you for you too. I know you think this is just a silly crush—”
Apollo cut him off with a kiss. “I don’t think that. Not anymore. You get me.” He rolled his forearm so Dylan could see the gauze covering the new tattoo. “Puzzle piece, remember? You make everything else make sense.”
Dylan lightly traced the edge of the bandage. The tattoo itself was small, fairly unobtrusive as far as ink went, a little blue three-dimensional edge puzzle piece. And he couldn’t wait to see it again once the bandage came off. “You make everything make sense too. I’ve missed you,” he admitted. “So much.”
“I missed you too.” Apollo pulled him closer for a kiss. The kiss started slow, a gentle acknowledgment of what they’d been doing without, a way to communicate all the longing they’d built up, but it quickly morphed into something hotter, needier.
“Need your skin.” Dylan started in on Apollo’s shirt buttons then paused remembering that he was still in the shorts and shirt he’d scrimmaged in. “Fuck. I should really shower before—”
“Fuck sweat. I could be trapped in the desert with you for a week, and I’d still want you. Shower after. I painted the bathroom too, and there’s a huge shower in there that you’ll love, but right now I need this.” Apollo yanked Dylan’s shirt off. “Need you.”
They scrambled out of their remaining clothes, barely breaking apart, until they were both naked and Dylan was back on Apollo’s lap, letting him know with lips and tongue how even that brief separation had been too long. Their cocks rubbed together, and Dylan pressed closer, seeking more of the delicious friction. The hair on Apollo’s stomach rasped against his sensitive skin and Apollo’s grip on his ass urged him closer still.
Apollo nibbled on his neck, making Dylan shiver and squirm. “I...probably...need a shave,” he gasped.
“This is me not giving a fuck.” Apollo nipped at the skin under his Adam’s apple. He wormed a hand between the two of them, getting both their cocks in his big hand.
“Yeah, that.” Dylan arched into the contact. “Not going to last long. Been too long.”
“Way too long,” Apollo agreed. A sly smile crept over his face. “So you haven’t...”
“My hand and I are besties,” Dylan confirmed. “Nothing else. I was too hung up on you.”
“Is it wrong that I’m glad?” Apollo claimed his mouth again, a possessive gesture that made Dylan’s toes clench and his hands tighten on Apollo’s shoulders. His dick throbbed as Apollo stroked their cocks, slowly at first, way too lightly, but picking up speed as the kiss grew hungrier, more demanding.
It wasn’t enough though and Dylan pushed his hand between them as well, covering Apollo’s. Instead of batting him away, Apollo groaned, moving his hand so that they were both stroking, linked hands forming a tight channel for their dicks. “Yeah, that’s it. Together.”
“Together,” Dylan echoed.
“Gonna come for me?” Apollo rocked his hips, moving Dylan against him with his free hand, starting an urgent rhythm.
“Yeah,” Dylan gasped.
“Good. Want that. Want to come together.” Apollo growled, dropping his head to bite at Dylan’s shoulder, raising goosebumps all down Dylan’s spine.
“Fuck. Apollo. Need...”
“Yeah, beautiful. Whatever you need.” Apollo’s hand sped up first, but Dylan caught the new rhythm quickly, tightening his own grip, loving how that made Apollo groan.
“Missed you,” Dylan chanted. “Missed you so much. God. Need this.”
“Me too. Me too.” Apollo’s lips soothed where he’d abraded Dylan’s shoulder. “Come on. Come for me. Love watching you come.”
“Need this.” Dylan’s hips started to buck, ass clenching, as he rocked harder into their combined grip. “Oh God. Apollo. Want you.”
“You’ve got me.” Apollo shuddered, eyes intent. Sweat dripped down his chest, whole body tense with holding back. Waiting for me. Power surged through Dylan. They’d both done more than enough waiting. He sped up, seeking the stroke that would throw them both over.
“Unngh. Right...oh fuck.” Warmth hit Dylan’s fist, as Apollo’s body shook under his. That was all Dylan needed, all he’d been waiting for, and he came hard, whispering Apollo’s name over and over. The orgasm felt like the culmination of a triathlon, stripping him bare, the finish line a catharsis for weeks of work, but leaving him triumphant. Exuberant even. They’d made it. They were here, and that was all that mattered.
*
Apollo woke early, when the world was still dark, a thin sliver of light from the master bathroom casting shadows around the not-quite-dawn room. This would probably be a good time to nudge Dylan toward the guest room or figure out how in the heck he was going to explain his presence when the girls woke up, but Apollo was too happy to care about any of that. Genuinely, improbably, happy.
He rubbed the still-tender skin of his new tattoo. He’d taken the bandage off after the shower last night, but it was still new and healing.
Kind of like us. Things with Dylan were still fragile with a lot yet to be worked out, but he was confident at last that they could do it. He only needed to look around the room to know that he was on the right path. Dylan fit here, as surely as a puzzle piece, snapping into place. He fit in the place Apollo had opened up for them. For himself really. He given himself the space for this, and although a sleeping Dylan in his arms was a pretty nice reward, this wasn’t for Dylan. It was for him, because he deserved this—something that it had taken him weeks to work out, to accept, but he did.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the dark. Neal was always going to be a part of him, and he wasn’t deluding himself that he was ever going to stop missing him. But the ache was less acute now, leaving behind a bittersweet peace where there had been rage before. Life—and death—happened, and what mattered was what they did in between, and right now, Dylan was what he wanted to do, and that was okay. Good even.
“Mmmmph.” Dylan stirred, stretching against Apollo. “Is it morning?”
“Not yet.” Apollo kissed his head. “Go back to sleep.”
“I should probably go. You don’t want me here when the girls get up. And besides, I’ve got Sunday brunch at Ben and Maddox’s—”