Dylan wrestled the front of Alec’s jeans into submission, flicking open the zipper before plunging his hand down the front. Two frustrating seconds passed as Dylan searched for the waistband of the briefs beneath.
Holy hell, he’d never felt so clumsy during sex before. His fingers finally tunneled inside and stroked the fully erect cock, hard, yet covered in the softest skin. Dylan circled Alec’s slit with this thumb, smearing the precum, and Alec choked back a sound that resembled something like a sob. And Dylan?
Dylan remained silent, so grateful to have Alec back in his arms he could barely breathe.
“Off,” Dylan grunted out.
Alec complied, pushing his jeans to the floor and kicking them aside. Dylan spun them both around and backed a gloriously naked Alec toward the center of the room. His mouth consuming soft lips, Dylan detected a hint of barbeque smoke and fresh air clinging to Alec’s hair as he steered with one destination in mind. One purpose.
One goal.
When they hit the bed, Dylan kept moving forward, and they both tumbled down, bouncing on the mattress.
Dylan landed on top of all that bare skin and let out a satisfied hiss. “Yes.”
One arm braced beside Alec’s head, Dylan bent forward, straining to unfasten his own jeans and still keep their lips sealed. The open-mouthed kisses turned downright filthy. Alec met him turn for turn, his tongue stroking Dylan’s, but his hands remained wrapped around Dylan’s biceps. Whether Alec was holding on because of the insane pace or because he refused to interfere again, Dylan wasn’t sure. With a grunt of satisfaction, Dylan finally got his jeans unzipped.
He only got as far as unfastening the front before he pulled out his dick and lowered himself down, too eager to take the time to remove his clothes. Their cocks lined up side by side as though they’d been waiting for the two men to get over themselves and get with the program, and Dylan let out a long, slow moan.
Because he so fucking agreed with the sentiment.
It dawned on him that he hadn’t asked Alec if this was okay, if Dylan was allowed to be here like this, stretched on top of him. But when Alec groaned and thrust his hips in search of friction, Dylan figured, at this point, asking the question would be pretty damn stupid.
“Lube,” Alec gasped, followed by, “condom.”
And, yeah, asking for permission now would be about ten steps in the wrong direction.
Dylan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a packet of lube and a condom. When he’d stomped over to Alec’s room there’d been no question in his mind that they would end up here, that the two of them would fix where they’d been seriously derailed by Noah and his dumbass opinions—
Alec tipped his hips and spread his thighs in invitation, granting Dylan full access.
“Shit,” Dylan said with a shaky breath.
He made quick work of the condom and the lube, fumbling only for a moment, thankyouverymuch. Dylan worked Alec open, progressing from one to two and then three fingers, barely taking the time to process the response of one before adding another. He knew he was going too fast, but Alec simply dug his blunt nails into Dylan’s arms and worked his hips in begging counter-circles. He offered no resistance, only demanded more. Alec shifted his legs higher and settled them around Dylan’s back as if to hurry him up. But Dylan craved better friction. More contact. Hell, he needed leverage.
Dylan hooked an arm under Alec. “Hold on.”
He hauled him down the bed until Alec’s ass reached the edge and Dylan could plant his feet firmly on the carpet. Not a second thought entered his mind as he lined up his cock with Alec’s hole and pushed, bottoming out in one long stroke.
The tight heat enveloped his cock, and Dylan let out a hiss and froze, his limbs tense. Fine tremors wracked his every muscle. He fought the urge to move as the words racing around his head since Alec had ended things—the words itching to get out when Dylan had hunted him down at the clinic—finally escaped.
“This isn’t over,” Dylan rasped out.
The feeling had been churning inside Dylan since Alec had put their friendship, or relationship, or what-the-fuck-ever this was on hold. Dylan pulled his hips back before thrusting again, and Alec arched his back to meet Dylan.
“I know,” Alec murmured.
Somehow, the admission felt horrifically inadequate. Dylan pressed his forehead against Alec’s and repeated the process, near full withdrawal followed by a hard drive forward, burying himself to the hilt.
The harsh words sandblasted Dylan’s throat. “We’re not through.”
“I know.”
This time Alec’s confession rumbled out like a perfectly tuned Harley, and there was no fucking way Dylan could work up the proper amount of fear he knew his declaration—and Alec’s response —should generate.
Shoving the thought aside, Dylan began a demanding pace he hoped like hell he could maintain. Time blurred. The bed creaked.