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“That’s a good thing?” Dylan’s eyes closed. Derek’s fingertip was barely grazing the skin of his chest.
“Definitely a good thing. This piercing’s hot as fuck.”
Derek’s hand trailed down the soft skin of Dylan’s stomach. Normally, Dylan would have felt some insecurity with this kind of thing, but he was surprised to find his body leaning toward the touch instead of flexing away from it.
Smiling, Derek hooked two fingers through Dylan’s belt loops, pulling him closer. “Tell me what you want. Even if it’s just kissing. Whatever.” There was no pressure there… but there was heat. Nothing about Derek’s behavior over the past weeks had been what Dylan expected. And for the first time in possibly ever, Dylan wasn’t nervous or panicked about the possibility of what could happen between them. Moments like this usually sent his brain into a boiling eddy of worst-case scenarios, but instead his mind simply simmered.
Dylan trusted him.
The silence held. Derek seemed to be giving Dylan the time he needed to sort out what he wanted.
What did he want?
Chapter 30
Dylan slid his hand around the base of Derek’s neck and pulled Derek’s mouth to his.
And like the previous time, every taste was better than the last and every graze of Derek’s lips over his made him want more… more… more. He abandoned his glasses on the counter and pulled Derek down the hallway to the living room. He didn’t let Derek get more than an inch away as he did. Everything sharpened with the firmness of his decision.
He wanted this.
Derek’s fingertips dug into the muscles of Dylan’s lower back. That solid pressure grounded Dylan. Made him feel more certain that everything about this moment was right. That everything about this man was safe.
They fell in a heap onto the bed. The sheets were fresh.
Of course they were.
Everything was perfect. The warm weight of Derek’s body on top of his. The slide of Derek’s hands over his shoulders as Dylan pulled Derek’s shirt off.
Derek’s cock was an enticing pressure on Dylan’s thigh, and Dylan’s own erection strained against his pants, practically begging to be let free. “What do you want, Derek?”
“I want to make you feel good. Just tell me what to do.”
“Your hand… hand would be good on my dick. Maybe with you behind me.” He undid the button of his pants with trembling fingers.
Derek pulled Dylan’s jeans off with steady hands. His rather wicked smile relaxed any lingering tension in Dylan’s chest.
“Do you have—”
“Yes.” Derek kicked off his pants and opened a drawer on the nightstand, which, like most of his furniture, was crammed into that front room.
Christ. Dylan swallowed.
Derek opened the bottle and warmed some of the clear slippery liquid on his hand. “Tell me what I can do.”
Dylan turned on his side, and Derek lay down behind him, molding their bodies together so that Derek’s own solid arousal pressed against Dylan’s ass. A low rumble in Dylan’s throat. Derek slipped his thumbs beneath the elastic of Dylan’s boxers and pushed them down. Derek’s right leg lifted over Dylan’s, tightening their bodies together. As Dylan ground his ass into Derek, he felt a satisfying shudder from the man behind him.
Dylan’s tip was dripping so much precum, Derek really didn’t even need the lube. He gripped the length and gave it a gentle, almost tender, squeeze.
As his body jolted and he moaned, Dylan felt Derek’s smile against the bunching muscles of his back.
“Smug,” Dylan muttered.
“How’d you know?” Derek’s teeth grazed over Dylan’s back.
“I… I… fuck.” Dylan moved his hips again, looking for every bit of slick friction. “You can… you could bite me if you want?”
Not needing to hear that invitation twice, Derek bit down on Dylan’s shoulder, just hard enough to cause a tiny edge of pain as his hand sped up.