And he was so tired of being alone.
Alec was standing in the same spot contemplating a shower when a sharp knock at the door made him jump. The sound echoed in the hotel room and, no doubt, down the hallway. For a moment, Alec stared at the door, a deep-seated feeling of anticipation and dread and inevitability welling in his chest. He knew who stood on the other side.
He knew what Dylan wanted.
But did Dylan really want Alec, or was this just a convenient way for Dylan to deal with a difficult day?
As soon as the thought popped into Alec’s head, he tensed.
A second knock came. Mind reeling, Alec crossed the carpet and opened the door, still wondering what to do when he saw the man. Dylan stood with his hands on his hips, T-shirt tight across his shoulders, bare feet poking out from the bottom of his frayed jeans. For some reason, Dylan looked angry.
Three thudding heartbeats later, Alec said, “Dylan, don’t you think—?”
Like a brake released on a bike revved to full throttle, Dylan fisted his hands in Alec’s T-shirt and crowded him up against the doorjamb. Alec struggled to finish his question, confused, but Dylan’s intentions became clear when his lips landed on Alec’s.
Dylan pressed Alec’s mouth open wide. Several damp, hungry kisses followed that left Alec little room for thought. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he realized this was their first real kiss. One that hadn’t started out fake or been dulled by the effects of alcohol.
Dylan tipped his head to take more. His tongue stroked Alec’s and sent a spike of pure pleasure straight to his groin, and every rational thought in Alec’s brain went on permanent sabbatical.
~~~***~~~
Dylan couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, the need to be inside someone tore through him with such intensity.
But as they’d sat at the restaurant, Dylan in the middle of a self-pitying sulk—and, Jesus, shouldn’t he have recovered from the loss of Rick by now?—Alec had tucked his hair behind his ear, exposing the line of his jaw. Dylan had been momentarily transfixed, imagining his tongue tracing the angle and his lips on the pulse at his neck. He longed to mark Alec’s skin. Dylan had spent the day trying to keep his hands off as promised, but he was suddenly struck by the insatiable desire to bury himself inside Alec and not come up for air.
The need was all consuming. Crushing. Driving him insane.
And right now felt too friggin’ far from what he had, which was fucking fabulous, to all that he wanted, which was everything. All of Alec splayed on his back, ankles over his head with Dylan buried deep in his ass. In an attempt to bring him closer, Dylan hooked his fingers in Alec’s jeans and maneuvered their bodies inside the room, trapping Alec against the wall.
Two hard cocks now pressed together through several frustrating layers of denim and cotton briefs.
“I need…” Dylan groaned against Alec’s mouth as he kicked the door closed. “You can’t—”
Leave me like you did before.
Dylan dove in for another soul-drugging kiss before trying again. But the mental image of the two of them folded together like a pretzel was too much, mucking with his ability to speak. “I…damn—”
Just like that day at the clinic, the words tumbled chaotically in his mind. He struggled to arrange them in the correct sequence, but they escaped without consulting his brain. A rambling mess of “need” and “can’t” and “now” randomly slipped from his mouth between hot, messy kisses, in no particular order and with no particular meaning.
In a fumble of hands and flying fingers, Dylan worked on Alec’s clothes because he wanted them gone, gone, gone. Hips still trapping Alec against the wall, Dylan shoved Alec’s T-shirt over his head, static leaving a few wayward strands of hair sticking up in all directions. Dylan tossed the fabric aside and reached for Alec’s jeans.
Dylan got the button undone and grunted in victory, only to have things briefly deteriorate when Alec tried to help with Dylan’s shirt. Fingers skimming up Dylan’s chest, Alec hampered Dylan’s efforts, slowing him down. And when Alec reached Dylan’s nipples… Shit, now Dylan could barely see straight.
He batted Alec’s hands away. “Stop helping.”
Impatient, he wanted Alec naked now, because this wasn’t just about getting off. An orgasm wasn’t Dylan’s only intent. He wanted to be inside Alec when he came and to watch Alec’s face as he did. He wanted to see the color rise on his cheeks and the dark, I’m-so-close look in those blue eyes. He needed to feel Alec’s cum spill on his skin.