Instead of answering, he cupped Tomasz’s cheek and hauled him onto his toes, crashing their mouths together.
Another rumble built in his chest, and this time, Tomasz felt the roll of sound as well as he heard it. He curled his fingers into Garek’s vest and gripped his arm, holding him as close as he could, even when he pulled away.
Garek’s pupils were blown wide, ringed in a narrow band of silver. His kiss, fleeting and hard as it was, burned against Tomasz’s lips.
“You are real.”
“Yes?”
Garek darted his gaze over Tomasz’s face. “I thought,” he murmured, more to himself than Tomasz. “I had wondered, but you are here, I can touch—” And locked their gazes. “Can I touch you?”
“I wish you would.”
Garek’s hand flexed against Tomasz’s jaw before sliding into his hair, fingers lightly curling. Short nails teased his scalp, and he gasped in anticipation of the tug, holding his breath for the pinch of pain that never came. Instead, Garek slipped an arm around his back and pressed Tomasz hard against him, still searching his face, as if hunting for some specific tell.
But what other tell could there be? Tomasz’s cock thickened in his breeches, pressing firm against Garek’s thigh. He gripped the front of his vest to keep him close, and angled his face up in offering. When Garek did not move to kiss him, when he held so still Tomasz was half convinced the man had turned to stone, it struck: he awaited an invitation.
Not a wish, a formal, firm invitation that could not be misconstrued.
“Please, Garek.” His voice shook, nerves and desire churning together. “Touch me.”
Garek gave one tight dip of his chin and did as he was told.
This kiss, unlike the first hard, testing press, was slow and deliberate, learning the plump curve of Tomasz’s lips. He slid his tongue inside, the slightest dip, and lightning sped through Tomasz’s veins, burning away the deep winter chill.
Again, that rumble built in Garek’s throat. He speared Tomasz more deeply, sweeping and plunging his tongue at a pace he could not hope to match.
Garek was too tall, too broad, too strong. Too hungry.
He tightened his arm around Tomasz, lifting him onto his toes. In two steps, his back was against the wall, and Garek finally fisted his hand in Tomasz’s hair. A shout escaped him, swallowed by Garek’s kiss. Hips pressed against his groin, applying pressure to his throbbing cock that transformed the echoes of pain into pleasure.
Tomasz gave in. Not that he had fought, but the tension in his body eased, overwhelmed by the grind of Garek’s hips. His own cock, hard and thick in his trousers, pressing against Tomasz’s belly.
Garek grunted and adjusted his stance. The next roll of his hips ground his cock against Tomasz. Ecstasy burst between his eyes, escaping as a tight, needy whimper.
“Gods, it has been so long.” Garek jerked Tomasz’s head back, scraped his teeth along his throat, and closed his lips against his Adam’s apple. “You are so smooth, so solid, I could?—”
His next words were whispered into Tomasz’s skin and lost to his ears. He shivered at the silent promise spoken instead by the heat of Garek’s mouth, the suck of his lips, and strong body rocking against him.
For however long it had been for Garek to be with a man, it had not lessened his skill or knowledge of how to touch one. Every grind shot Tomasz higher. His pulse flew like a six-horse carriage, surging as a rising tide of heat into his belly, his hips, his groin.
“Garek,” he gasped. Fire consumed him, heat and pleasure compressing and compounding until his body could not contain it all.
“Not yet.” Garek ceased and put space between them. “I am not done touching you.”
“Oh, gods.”
A smile flickered, and Garek’s eyes roiled like melted silver. He unfisted Tomasz’s hair, fluttering his hand down his arm to his waist. Cold air bit his skin as Garek lifted his shirt and braced Tomasz with a callused hand.
“It has been so long since I could touch another,” he rumbled. “I plan on savoring this as long as I can.”
“How long?”
“Long enough,” Garek answered plainly. He guided Tomasz’s hand to his side, pressing his fingers into a firm grip. “I still have far to ride before dawn, but for this?” He slid Tomasz’s shirt higher, eyes dropping to glimpse naked flesh. Garek’s lips parted on a gasp. “For this, the road can wait.”
He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Tomasz’s side. Higher. Snagging a nipple between his teeth before sinking to his knees.
Tomasz’s head fell back with a thud. Wool slid under his fingers, replaced by the coarse run of Garek’s beard. His thick hair still tied back by a strip of leather. Tomasz palmed his head, seeking a handhold in the torrent of sensation churning within him.