“Going to lose myself, Rafe.” He hated he didn’t have a nickname for Rafe, the smooth offshoot of affection easily spun out by others. His mind wandered down that path, threatening to dislodge him from his pleasure. Then Rafe’s lips nearly brushed the root of his dick, and his head slid into the tightness beyond Rafe’s tongue, and Quinn gasped, his thoughts scattering beneath the desire Rafe called up from him. “Oh… God.”
He was pretty sure he’d lapsed into Gaelic. Or at least the bastardized version his family was known for. What came out of his mouth was a combination of curses and pleas amid the muttering of sordid English phrases uttered in a dark, guttural moan, and from the smug, satisfied look on Rafe’s face as he pulled his lips free of Quinn’s cock, the throat swallow had been done solely to keep Quinn from meandering away in his own mind.
“I like that you know me,” Quinn whispered, stroking Rafe’s face. There was a bit of a scruff, a rough velvet along Rafe’s jaw. He’d felt the burn of it on his thighs and neck where Rafe’d brushed up against him, rubbing into Quinn’s skin like a cat marking its territory. “I don’t have to… explain with you.”
“Never—or hardly ever,” Rafe murmured, crawling up the length of Quinn’s torso to reach his face for a kiss. It was oddly salty, spiced with the lemony mint of Rafe’s mouth and a tingle of something muskier beyond. With that kiss, Quinn was lost, fallen hard for the soul he’d known for years. “Now, your turn. You and I, we’re going to make some music of our own.”
Quinn bungled it. As graceful as a three-legged flamingo, he swore when he lost the bottle of lube someplace in the sheets, then nearly gave up when he tore the wrapper off the condom Rafe’d given him only to somehow puncture the sheath with his index finger.
“Found it,” Rafe declared, holding up the recalcitrant bottle. His burst of laughter at Quinn’s dejection was bright, a splash of color on the dim of the flaccid latex. “It’s okay, Q. There’s about ten more. We’ll go for testing. Then… we won’t have to deal with those—”
“Past tonight?” The thought punched a hole in Quinn’s chest. He was already shaken to the core at the idea of sliding his body into Rafe’s. Suddenly there were breakfasts and movie nights with long battles over which way the toilet paper went on the spool and arguments about cat horf in shoes. The butterflies in his stomach grew teeth—no, fangs—and they savaged Quinn’s nerves, tearing him apart. “Shit, I can’t—I’m not. You can’t want me for that. I’m not—”
“Breathe, baby,” Rafe murmured softly, holding Quinn’s face.
They shared a kiss made only of their breath, and Quinn tasted himself on Rafe’s exhale, marveling in the surety in Rafe’s golden-brown eyes.
“This isn’t a one-time thing, Q. Not us. Not ever. I told you. I’m in this. If you want me. Don’t let that hay-and-needles brain of yours skew things sideways, and don’t go borrowing trouble. You and me… we work, don’t we? In our odd, weird way?”
There were confessions to be made, gentle admissions of truth Quinn held in the folds of his heart. They came pouring out, a rush of words and flailing fears, stinging his throat as they coursed out from his belly. Nothing made sense… not until the final dense chunk of words he choked out, its hard edges nearly bleeding him dry as he flung them at Rafe in a hurried panic.
“I think I’m in love with you,” he burbled, pulling away from Rafe’s hands. “God, is this what that feels like? This sucks. I feel sick and scared and…. Jesus fucking Christ, Rafe—”
“You said you feel me, Q. That you’ve always felt me. Now hear me. I’m not going to go anywhere. Not unless you tell me you want me to get lost.” Rafe caught him up again, pulling Quinn’s attention back. “I’m getting a second chance here—with a band that kicks ass and most of all, with you. Best of all, with you. And if I lose everything all over again, I am going to fight like fucking hell to never lose you.
“I see you looking at me—all warm and sweet—and all I think about is how I don’t deserve you. Don’t deserve that affection, but see, I’m an asshole, Quinn. Because I’m going to take it—and hold on tight.” Rafe pressed a sweet kiss to Quinn’s lips, chuckling at their mingled sighs. “I love you, Quinn. Hell, I fucking like you. But most of all, I love you, magpie.”
“Are you sure?” Quinn heard himself whisper. “Because I have to make sure you’re sure.”
“Oh yeah, Q. I’m sure.” Rafe dug the lube bottle out of the sheets again. “And right now, I want you. So fucking much I’m hurting in places I never even knew my dick had.”
Rafe was playful. Quinn’d never played before, and the laughter was extraordinarily sexy. He fumbled again with the condom, his fingers going cold and numb from nerves until he could no longer stand it and handed Rafe the wrapper.
He could only gasp when Rafe took Quinn’s cock in hand, then slid the latex sheath snugly down its length.