Dylan’s eyes rolled back. Ditching any pretense of holding it together, he let out a long, low moan of appreciation. Or thanks. Or a plea for more. He didn’t know which. And he sure as heck didn’t care. Knuckles tight, Dylan fisted the sheets, now feeling so wide, so open he began to literally beg, blubbering out an embarrassing string of half-formed words.
He liked having Alec surrounding him. On top of him. Pinning him to the bed.
Holding him down.
“I…” Dylan let out a gasp.
Sweat slid down his temple. The intensity threatened to topple him, bigger than anything he’d ever experienced before. His knees grew shaky, his back straining to maintain a position that provided just the right angle for the maximum of pleasure. His muscles screamed for relief. His body screamed for release.
Alec gripped Dylan’s back tight, his hips driving forward with a forceful snap.
And the orgasm hit with a blindsiding blast, stripping Dylan of the last of his strength, and he collapsed. Alec followed him down, pushing up on his arms and ramming Dylan’s ass as he came too. Dylan pulsed and pulsed until he thought his brains had been liquefied and ejected from his body. Gone. Absorbed into the sheets.
Never to be found again.
He couldn’t have blanked out for more than a second or so, but it might as well have been a lifetime. When Dylan came back to his senses, he felt as if he he’d moved away years ago and then tried to return home… a home he’d left behind for so long that everything looked different when he got back.
Alec’s chest pressed against Dylan’s back, their sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other as they both struggled to suck in enough oxygen.
“Jesus, Alec,” Dylan croaked, “you forget to mention the part where I’d feel like I got hit by a speeding semi. A very big speeding semi.” He bit his cheek, hoping he wasn’t about to sound like a total slut. “When can we do that again?”
He felt Alec smile against his neck. “When do you think you’ll recover?”
Dylan gave a tired scoff. “Next week, if—”
The clink of glass on glass came from the living room, and they both froze. Before Dylan could process what the sound meant, Alec had vaulted from the bed, his cock making an impressive exit from Dylan’s ass and causing his muscles to spasm painfully.
Dylan hissed in protest.
“Christ, I’m sorry,” Alec said before crossing to look out the window toward the street. “Noah’s car is here.”
With a groan, Dylan buried his head in his arms. All he wanted was to enjoy the feeling of having the shit kicked out of him sexually before he had to deal with what this meant to his and Alec’s friendship. And now he had to deal with Noah?
The man who’d become Dylan’s foxhole buddy during the battle to keep Rick alive and then during Rick’s slow slip toward death. During those dark days, Dylan would have lost his friggin’ mind without Noah. But Dylan knew their shared history wouldn’t save him from his friend’s opinions.
Dylan reluctantly rolled over and pushed up from the bed, glancing at Alec. For some reason, he didn’t want Alec hearing what Noah was bound to say.
“You go take a shower,” Dylan said, looking around for his clothes. When that failed, he crossed the floor, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and ran it under the tap to clean himself up. “I’ll handle Noah until you get done.”
Dylan knotted a second towel around his waist and waited for Alec to disappear into the shower. Tense, but determined, Dylan padded down the hallway, planning his defense in anticipation of facing his opinionated friend.
After Alec had passed out on the bed last night, Dylan had spent all of thirty minutes on the computer Googling bisexuality before giving up. He’d started out curious. Twenty-five minutes later, he’d been struggling not to freak the fuck out. He’d gone from a small sliver of self-doubt to a super-sized serving of batshit-crazy confusion.
What was with all the labels? Homosexual and heterosexual, great. Bi-curious and bisexual, fine. But then came pansexual, omnisexual, polysexual, and…fluid. Fluid. What the heck did that even mean?
Seriously, how had a fairly simple concept become so complex? Only one thing Dylan knew for sure. He wasn’t transgender or transsexual. He liked boobs and appreciated their aesthetic qualities, but he sure as hell didn’t want to wear any.
Unfortunately the single discovery hardly helped. So he’d shut down Alec’s computer and resorted to his life-long motto: fate liked to kick the shit out of people, which meant when you found something that felt good, go for it.
Up until that point, everything with Alec had definitely felt great. So Dylan had wisely crawled back into Alec’s bed, anticipating this morning, and in return had experienced the oh-holy-shit-gasm of a lifetime. Yes, returning to Alec’s bed had been a very wise decision.
Except for the part where he’d forgotten to bolt the front door…
With a resigned sigh, Dylan reached the living room and leaned against the doorway. Beyond the leather furniture centered around a glass coffee table, Noah was at the minibar pouring tomato juice into a glass. Noah wore jeans and a form-fitting sweater that hugged his lean frame, and his shoulders looked tense.