Harry shrugged. “Me and Rhys aren’t particularly patient with each other when shit gets real. Old habits die hard, but basically, we just want the other to be okay.”
“I see that,” Jevon said. “And I know he loves you.”
“So do I.”
A comfortable silence stretched out. A cat appeared from nowhere and draped itself across Jevon’s thighs while he tried to summon the energy to walk back to the bungalow. The warm mass on his lap didn’t help, but the desire to be as close to Rhys as possible won out. He finished his tea and bid Harry goodnight and was crawling into bed behind Rhys before he could blink.
The heat between them roared to life as Rhys stirred in response. “Jevon?”
“Shh,” Jevon whispered. “I’m here.”
Rhys rolled over, his eyes blazing. “Showme.”
Twenty
Jevon kissed Rhys, devoured him, and for once Rhys didn’t lose himself in the madness that came with having Jevon’s lips locked with his. Couldn’t. Because he was too busy reacquainting himself with Jevon’s taste. His warm skin. Every sound he breathed into Rhys’s mouth. Committing it all to indelible memory for when they inevitably had to part again.
A month without contact had left Rhys starved, and he couldn’t get enough. He drove his tongue wetly into Jevon’s mouth and arched up into him as much as he could with his weighted left foot.
Their hips met clumsily, roughly, and it was perfect. Rhys unbuttoned Jevon’s jeans and squeezed his dick, pumping his hard length until Jevon broke their kiss, eyes rolling back, a groan escaping from his hung-open mouth. He thrust into Rhys’s hand, then drew back to pull his hooded sweatshirt over his head. His jeans disappeared, and he slipped into bed with Rhys. “Your turn.”
Rhys’s sweatpants and underwear followed Jevon’s clothes. Naked, they clung to each other, kissing, hands roaming, the only sounds in the dark room their increasingly frantic gasps and moans. Jevon rocked his hips, his cock sliding in tandem with Rhys’s, sticky with precome. Rhys had to taste him. “Fuck my mouth.”
“Are you—”
“Do it.”
Jevon straddled Rhys’s sweat-damp chest and eased his thick cock into Rhys’s mouth. Steady moans tore from him as Rhys sucked him, revelling in the suffocating bliss of having Jevon’s cock crammed down his throat. Jevon’s quivering thighs went straight to his own dick, and he jacked himself in time with Jevon’s stuttered thrusts until he forced himself to pull back.
“More.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I need more.”
“Easy.” Jevon laid a heated palm over Rhys’s thundering heart. “We’ve got no lube, dude.”
Rhys got a hold of his racing mind, considered logistics, and his brain gifted him a last shot of reason. “We have. Joe fetched me the bag I brought to Bedford last time I came. It’s over there.”
“You’re fucking magic.”
Jevon leapt out of bed and retrieved the bottle of lube Rhys had tucked into the inner pocket of his overnight bag. He squeezed some onto his hands and reached for Rhys’s dick, but Rhys caught him. Shook his head. “Not like that. Fuckme, Jevon.”
Something flickered in Jevon’s face that Rhys couldn’t quite decipher. Doubt. Uncertainty?No. Not tonight. And not ever again. Rhys dug his nails into Jevon’s wrists. “Please... I need you.”
“You’ve got me, baby.” Jevon freed himself from Rhys’s punishing grip and slicked his cock with lube. Then he helped Rhys shift onto his side, his good leg bent to his chest. His probing fingers were sure of their path, sliding straight to the sweet spot that sprayed stars into Rhys’s vision, like they had so many times before, but it was different now. Jevon moved with more purpose, stretching and sweeping.
Rhys couldn’t wait a moment longer. “Now, Jevon.Please.”
“Okay, okay.” Jevon withdrew his fingers and rubbed Rhys’s back. His touch was soothing, but a moment later, the insistent press of his dick against Rhys’s slicked up hole was electric.
The burn was incredible, and Rhys cried out, pressing his face into a pillow that smelled of grass and hairspray, his whole body clenching, straining... resisting, but desperate for more.
“Am I hurting you?” Jevon whispered.
As if he could. Rhys thrashed his head. “No. Just fuck me... please.”
It was the third time he’d resorted to begging, and Jevon finally seemed to hear him. Tobelievethat Rhys’s desperation was all about him.That he’d never wanted anyone else like this, and he never would. That Jevon was everything to him and more.
Jevon dropped soft, wet kisses to the back of Rhys’s neck, and drove his cock inside Rhys to the hilt. He stilled, giving Rhys a moment to suck in a breath and adjust to the sheer girth of him, then he began to move, and every man who’d fucked Rhys before him evaporated like they’d never been there at all.
Hands, lips, tongue, Jevon was everywhere, driving in and out of Rhys, rocking them both in a cadence so sweet Rhys could barely breathe. He moaned, fisting the pillow by his face, and pushed back on Jevon, seeking more friction, chasing heat that was too much and not enough rolled into one.