Benito’s lips twitched, and fleeting humour danced in his brown eyes. “I don’t remember you being so chatty.”
“No? What do you remember?”
“That you wanted to fight me before you fucked me. You want to do that again?”
Fuck yeah. But there was one problem: this wasn’t the club. Mickey had neighbours who’d call the police if they heard two men brawling through the walls. “We can do it, but we’ll have to be quiet about it. Like, proper silent.”
“Roommate?”
“Nah, the old bird next door.”
Benito nodded slowly. “I like the idea of silence. It’s... hot.”
Now they were getting somewhere. Mickey pointed to the ceiling. “We can fuck on my bed or down here if you’re more comfortable.”
“Stop trying to make me comfortable.”
“Why?”
Benito drained his beer and set the bottle down by the sink. Then he narrowed the distance between them in one stride, abruptly so close Mickey smelled the faint scent of cigarettes andman. His jaw was still thick with dark scruff. Mickey wanted it against his skin. Wanted to grab Benito and shove him against the counter.
He settled for a light trail of his fingertip down Benito’s neck, caressing his Adam’s apple until he came to the hollow of his throat.
Save a soft inhale, Benito didn’t react.
Mickey smirked and pressed his lips to exposed, tender skin, lightly at first, then with a suction that brought Benito’s strong hands to Mickey’s hips, slamming their bodies together.
Mickey almost groaned, but a challenge hung in the air between them. Could they do this without making a sound? CouldMickey? And did it matter if they failed?
Probably not, but Mickey loved a challenge. In and out of bed, it kept him alive.
First, though...
He pulled his lips from Benito’s throat and fixed him with a hard stare. “It’s important to me that you’re comfortable. It might not matter to you, but it matters to me. Always.”
“You’re sweet,” Benito said, low, almost a whisper. “No other hook-up ever gave a shit.”
“I’m not other hook-ups.”
“That, I know.” Benito gripped Mickey’s chin. “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me ever since that night. I’ve never come like that.”
“What? Hard?”
“No. I mean... fuck.” Benito let go and rubbed the back of his neck. No flush heated his skin, but Mickey sensed it all the same. “It was intense, you know? Like, I can still feel it.”
Warmth flooded Mickey’s chest. Despite the mind-fucking orgasms they’d shared, he’d pegged Benito for the aloof type, not a man who gave up that information easily. “We can add to it,” he said. “Here and now. Then see how you feel tomorrow. How much you can stand.”
“Stand before what?”
“Well, two things can happen. Either you’ll get used to it and the buzz will wear off, or...”
“Yeah?”
Mickey shrugged. “It’s like anything that gives you a rush. You’ll struggle to give it up.”
Ask me how I know.
Benito didn’t. He absorbed Mickey’s words with another nod, then flicked his gaze to the stairs in the hallway.