Noah shot Dylan another what-the-hell? look, and Dylan veered sharply left, changing course to lead Alec down the deserted hallway and into Noah’s office. At least here Dylan could keep Alec from groping him in public. They could wait out Tyler’s departure, and Dylan could slip Alec out the exit without having to pass by Noah.
“Let’s wait for the crowd at the doorway to clear before we leave,” Dylan said.
“Perfect.”
Alec closed the door. Before Dylan could register the intent in his eyes, Alec gripped Dylan’s jacket and stepped backward until his shoulder blades hit the wall, pulling Dylan close.
“I’m good with that,” Alec said.
“Come on, man.” Dylan gripped Alec’s wrist and pried it from his chest, totally ignoring how smooth the man’s hands were. “You’ve had too much to drink, and you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Bullshit,” Alec muttered, leaning in to kiss Dylan.
Dylan briefly froze. But, hell, if they started that up again, no telling where they’d wind up. Possibly on that futon along the far wall. Dylan turned his head to avoid the kiss, but Alec kept going, his mouth landing on Dylan’s neck instead.
Hot breath fanned across Dylan’s skin. Lips nibbled at his now skyrocketing pulse. And Dylan’s dick gave an interested twitch.
Fuck a duck.
He needed to remind himself that this was his friend, a friend who was acting out of frustration after watching his ex all evening. Or maybe Alec was still reeling from the scene in the kitchen with Tyler. Had they made out? Had Alec put his hands on Tyler’s ass too?
Dylan chose not to dwell on the possibility, and right now Alec didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Tyler. Lips whispering across Dylan’s throat, Alec groaned out Dylan’s name and placed a hand on his abdomen, just above the waistband.
Beads of sweat broke out along the back of Dylan’s neck. Blood rushed through Dylan’s veins, confused as to whether to supply his conflicted brain, his limbs for escape, or more urgently needy areas. Dylan’s dick now demanded more than its fair share.
No sense in denying the truth. While he’d been hitting first base with Alec, not only had Dylan not been grossed out or disgusted, not only had the act turned him on, the moment had planted ideas in Dylan’s mind. Ideas about Alec and…uh…more than just kisses.
Dylan slammed his lids closed.
Before his muddled brain could process Alec’s next move, Alec’s hand landed on Dylan’s zipper and flicked it open. A searing jolt shot through Dylan’s veins, and his eyelids popped open.
Jesus, had he said something about those ideas out loud?
“No touching the junk,” he scraped out as he reluctantly pulled the hand away. “Come on, Alec. Get your shit together, man.”
Get your shit together, Booth.
Fingers gripping Alec’s wrist, Dylan tried to prevent further crotch groping. He pressed his other palm against Alec’s chest to keep the man from plastering their torsos together, trying not to enjoy the hard plane of lean muscle.
Distance. That’s all he needed, just a little distance.
He was so busy congratulating himself on his success he forgot about the rigid hard-on confined beneath his briefs, bulging along the open zipper of his pants. Alec abandoned his attempts at a kiss and dropped to his knees to press his open mouth to Dylan’s cock.
Dylan sucked in a strangled breath.
Paralyzed by the surge of pleasure, he stared down at the arousing sight, the damp heat of Alec’s breath seeping through the briefs. Pushing Alec away would be a hell of a lot easier if Dylan wasn’t so turned on. Alec nibbled his way from the base of Dylan’s erection to the tip and gently scraped his teeth across the sensitive head.
Dylan gripped Alec’s shoulder, shaking with the need to force him back and thrust closer, all at the same time. “Alec,” he said hoarsely.
Ignoring the admittedly questionable protest, in one swift motion, Alec pulled out Dylan’s dick and swallowed him whole.
And that was the end of life as Dylan knew it.
Dylan’s eyes rolled back, and somewhere close by a meteor must have crash-landed cuz the floor beneath them wobbled. Alec bobbed his head up and down, spit slicking the way, and what was supposed to be an attempt at another objection came out of Dylan sounding faded and weak.
“Fuck.”
One hand wrapped around the base of Dylan’s cock, Alec pulled off to lick from base to tip again. “We’ll get to the fucking, I promise.”
The words briefly brought Dylan back to his senses, but not enough that he had the strength to end the pleasurable sensations. Hopefully he was capable of speech. And he had to try and get Alec to see reason. Dylan couldn’t stand the thought of his friend hating him tomorrow.
“Alec, listen man,” he said, “this isn’t what you want.”
But, Jesus, Dylan was a powder keg full of want.