At the very last minute, he pocketed a condom from the box he’d bought last week. There really wasn’t much use in playing coy and pretending that he wasn’t going to put out if Apollo so much as nodded in that direction. Oh hell. Might as well go all in. He made his bed and fluffed the pillows.
He still hadn’t been inside Apollo’s bedroom other than a brief peek when the guy was at work, which Dylan still felt guilty over. And it was just a room—king-size bed, dark wood furnishings and gray walls with surprisingly formal pictures on the wall—but somehow it managed to feel more...sacred. Like one of the pictures in the girls’ memory books, but this one more personal, a snapshot of a private space Apollo had shared with Neal, making Dylan feel like he was about to overturn a memory if he stared too long, so he’d quickly shut the door and cursed his own curiosity.
You’ll never be Neal, an insidious voice whispered as he straightened the comforter on his own bed.
Duh. Like he needed the reminder. But maybe, just maybe, he could be Dylan, the guy Apollo had a really memorable Friday night with, one who chased away the shadows in his eyes and the pain in his heart for a few hours.
* * *
Apollo wasn’t usually one for touristy things like the ferry connecting downtown San Diego with Coronado Island. He did his commuting via the bridge, cursing traffic no matter what time his shifts were. But he’d had a hunch that Dylan would be all over the ferry boat idea—he doubted it was something they had a lot of back in Oregon, and Dylan liked little touches of whimsy like how he always arranged the girls’ food in cute ways when he plated their dinner.
Sure enough, Dylan’s strides were quick as they approached the pier, and his eyes wide as they boarded the small white ferry. Because it was summer, the sun still shone, a pale yellow glow over the horizon, threatening one of the spectacular San Diego sunsets Apollo rarely had time for anymore. All he saw was glare, but Dylan...now, Dylan was different. He took in the pinkening sky, the smooth breeze on the bay, the salty air, and it was a weird sort of pleasure in Apollo’s gut just to watch him experience it.
Apollo’s muscles tightened with something darker than simple pleasure as he watched Dylan’s face, remembering what it had been like watching him climax. I want that again. Right now. Tonight.
A younger guy, closer to Dylan’s age and obviously a tourist what with the Michigan State sweatshirt and the shiny camera, came to stand near them on the deck.
“Nice night, huh?” The guy directed his words at Dylan.
“Yeah.” Dylan smiled in a way that made Apollo’s pulse hum.
“Hey, could I take your picture?” The tourist’s tone was unmistakably flirty, and he still hadn’t so much as acknowledged Apollo standing two feet away. “You’d look great against the rail over there.”
Not entirely sure what came over him, Apollo closed the distance between himself and Dylan and draped a proprietary arm over his shoulders.
“Uh. Thanks, but I think I’m good right here.” Dylan tossed a questioning look at Apollo.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The guy shrugged and moved farther down the deck.
Apollo was about to drop his arm, but then Dylan leaned into the embrace, head falling against Apollo’s shoulder, and his arm tightened of its own accord, apparently deciding there was nowhere it would rather be even as his brain protested that this was a bad idea.
“This is nice.” The wind whipped Dylan’s fluffy hair, and as they sped across the bay, downtown skyline behind them, his grin did something to Apollo’s insides, so he could only nod his agreement.
I missed this. A long-dormant part of Apollo poked its head out, a sprout of hope seeking the warmth of the sun after a frozen winter. He’d forgotten how nice this could be, someone to stand beside, someone to shelter from the wind, someone to take him out of his head. And for the first time, it felt...right that it was Dylan he was sharing the moment with.
Dylan looked up at him, mouth moving like he was about to speak. Apollo wasn’t in a place for questions, so he did the only thing that seemed to make sense and gave him a quick, hard kiss. An older couple near them in matching Hawaiian print shirts made a disgusted noise, which only made Apollo repeat the gesture.
“Ferry Landing approaching,” the loudspeaker blared as the red roofs of the landing’s shops and restaurants came into view. The upbeat strains of live music filtered down to the pier as they disembarked, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to grab Dylan’s hand, keep him close in the crush of people. In the distance, the tall buildings of downtown San Diego glittered across the bay. They made their way past smaller stores to the restaurant on the far side of the open air complex.
“Can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Apollo admitted.
“Never?” Dylan grinned at him. “You know I really like giving you new experiences.”
And just like that, Apollo was back in the guest room, watching Dylan in the mirrored closet door. Unable to resist, he tugged Dylan into a shadowed gap between stores and pressed him against the building, mouth finding Dylan’s like it was his primary mission directive.
Dylan clung to Apollo like his soul was just as starving as Apollo’s for this kind of contact.
When they finally broke apart, Dylan laughed and didn’t loosen his grip on Apollo’s shoulders. “I’d be totally good with saying fuck it to the reservations and getting the return ferry and racing to the nearest flat surface at the house.”
“I’m not sure we’d make it to the house.” Apollo nipped at his mouth again, laughing despite himself because it was almost impossible not to join in when Dylan joked.
“I’m good with that.” Dylan bumped his hips into Apollo’s. “There’s got to be a restroom or—”
“Patience is a virtue. And my plans for you need more than just an empty can.”
“You’ve got plans?” Dylan’s grin was so fucking hopeful that it made Apollo’s chest do a weird little squeeze.
“I’ve got plans,” Apollo confirmed. Part of him wanted to tell Dylan to settle down, that this wasn’t a date, that there was no use in them getting all tangled up in something that was doomed. But another part of him had been so long without this delicious anticipation that he couldn’t help but return Dylan’s smile, skin prickling at the thought of what he wanted to do to Dylan later. What he wanted to share with him—and wasn’t that a novelty? He was no stranger to lust, but this sense of wanting an adventure together was something he’d been a very long time without.
“Good. Me too.” Dylan leaned in and kissed him again, and Apollo almost wanted to say screw it and head back to the ferry after all. But then Dylan broke away, tugging him farther down the path. “And we’re both going to need energy. Feed me.”
“Yes, sir.” God, when was the last time he’d laughed this much? A cool breeze swept over the landing, ruffling the banner advertising a sale in one of the boutiques. And it felt like the wind whipped through his life too, clearing out all the cobwebs and cranky thoughts and leaving only crisp, clear skies.
Chapter Fifteen
Not a date. Dylan shuddered as Apollo’s lips grazed his neck. He slumped against Apollo, glad for the heavy railing of the boat covering how turned on he was by Apollo’s muscular arms around him. But this wasn’t a date. Dylan had spent all evening reminding himself of that, believing it less with each repetition because it sure as heck felt date-like, from how close they’d stood with beers at the bar while waiting for their table to how they’d shared each other’s entrees.
They’d drunk far more than they should have with the meal, talking about everything from the girls to soccer, reluctant to leave, even though they both knew where the dinner was headed. It was like verbal foreplay, seeing which of them would give in first and demand to leave. In the end, they’d looked at each other, heat arcing between them as they both
This wasn’t the Apollo he’d known for the past month. That Apollo was grim. Stoic. Polite, but never what someone might call warm. But this Apollo was like a wildfire, scorching mountain peaks, wreaking havoc on the boundaries of Dylan’s emotions, torching his resolve to keep his distance. And just like fire, he was gorgeous in his intensity—all that energy focused on him—but it was Dylan who’d be left with the blackened landscape when this weekend was done and they had to get back to normal. Whatever normal was.
It was hard to think with the warm bulk of Apollo pressing him into the rail, with Apollo’s breath in his ear. The inky night air was crisp, making him cuddle into Apollo. So many times in the past it had been Dylan doing the crowding and touching, but there was something rather seductive in this reversal. Apollo shuffled his feet, finding purchase as the boat rocked.
Tipsy. Ah, that was it. Dylan was definitely buzzing, and the usually rock-solid Apollo had to be doing the same. That explained the laughing and the touching and the unrestrained eagerness. Darn it. Dylan wished that just this...whatever it was between them was enough, that it could be the sole source of Apollo’s sudden mood shift, that he alone could intoxicate Apollo to this affectionate state.
The lights of downtown beckoned as the boat approached the dock. Wanting more with this man was as foolish as trying to harness the flickering lights of the tall buildings. And yet...
I want it all. He wanted the job in San Diego, a future together, and an endless stream of nights like this. Spinning, he grabbed Apollo’s shirt with greedy hands. Behind them some passengers whooped, but Dylan didn’t pay them any heed, instead kissing Apollo with all his mixed-up emotions and weird need. He put every last emo feel into this moment, this memory. Emotions were stupid. Lust, now lust he could handle.
“Whoa.” Apollo pulled away, breathing hard, eyes glassy. “We need a room quick before we commit public indecency.”
“Your command wouldn’t appreciate that,” Dylan said, letting himself be steered down the ramp, and off the boat.
“Come on.” Apollo tugged him in the direction of the parking lot. “Need to get you home before you tempt me into the backseat of the car—”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Dylan winked at him and sped up his steps.
“We are not doing this in the parking lot,” Apollo said firmly as he easily caught up to Dylan. “And no shenanigans while I’m driving.”
“Who says you’re driving?” Dylan put a dirty lilt on the question, fishing out his set of keys for emphasis. It still felt kind of weird, having keys to so much of this man’s life yet not really sharing any of it.
“Fresh air chased away my buzz, but you’re still toasty.” Apollo shoved him into the passenger seat. Dylan didn’t argue with the assessment, but if not the alcohol, then what was with the PDA from Apollo? The laughing? Just like that, Dylan was cast back into a sea of doubts. Not a date, he reminded himself even as his heart thumped faster. “But if you’re hung up on driving, we can flip for it when we get back to the house.”
“Seriously?” Dylan would have pegged Apollo as an exclusive top.
Apollo shrugged as he started the car. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you for weeks now, but I’m not opposed to the other. God, knows you hint about it enough.” He gave Dylan a lopsided smile. “And right now, tonight, all I want is to make you happy.”
You. You make happy. The words welled up in Dylan’s mouth. Maybe Apollo couldn’t ever care the way Dylan wanted him to, but he did care, at least a little. The ferry ride. The dinner. This offer. It was almost more than his heart could take. So rather than risk going all emo again, he forced a laugh out. “How about we race for it? First one to my bed gets to pick.”
“It’s a deal.” The air practically crackled on the quick drive to Apollo’s neighborhood, and Dylan acted all eager to reach for his door when in truth he intended to let Apollo win. They both scrambled out of the car, racing for the door where Apollo fumbled the keys, then jostled each other toward the stairs.
“That as fast as you can go?” Apollo looked back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay, now it’s on.” Dylan’s competitiveness kicked in and good intentions fled out the window as he sprinted for his room. At the last minute, Apollo grabbed him around the waist and they tumbled to his bed in a heap of limbs and laughter.
“Oof.” Apollo’s face screwed up in a wince.
“Fuck. Your back.” Race forgotten, Dylan peered down at Apollo. “I forgot—”
“And I wanted you to. I’m able to do a silly race, for crying out loud.” The tight lines around Apollo’s mouth belied his words. “It’s nothing. Just a little twinge.”
“If you say so, but we don’t have to—”
“Oh yes, we do,” Apollo growled, pulling him down for a kiss. “Someone’s getting fucked. Hell, I don’t even care if I can walk after.”
“That sounds like a challenge.” Dylan kissed him again, carefully settling his weight against Apollo’s torso, groaning as their chests met and his aching groin connected with Apollo’s hip.
He nipped at Apollo’s lips, trying to chase the pain away the only way he knew how. But like always, Apollo met him eagerly, taking over the lead, giving more than he got, rendering Dylan the breathless one. Apollo palmed his ass, pulling their bodies more fully together, their erections meeting. And even through layers of fabric, he could still feel Apollo’s heat.
“Too many clothes.” Apollo pulled away from the kiss with a groan. “You really want to help, you could fix that.”
“That I can do.” Dylan sat up enough to strip off his shirt, then started in on Apollo’s buttons, unable to resist the impulse to kiss each bit of skin he exposed. Apollo’s stomach vibrated tension, almost as if he wasn’t sure how to deal with this attention.
Too bad. You’re all mine. Dylan laughed softly to himself before tonguing a flat nipple. He tortured Apollo with little licks and nibbles until Apollo was groaning and cursing under him.
Apollo grabbed Dylan’s hand, dragging it to the cock straining against his pants. “Stop playing.”
“Why? I like it.” Dylan mock-pouted even as his hands went to Apollo’s belt.
“And I like you naked and back here for me to kiss.”
“Sure you don’t want me doing the kissing?” Dylan dipped his head and licked a trail along Apollo’s waistband. “Nothing you’d rather I kiss?”
“Brat.” Apollo dragged him up, mouth latching hungrily on to his own. The guy might be bossy as fuck but he could kiss. The kind of kisses that made Dylan stupid, long, leisurely explorations that never relinquished control and yet made him feel larger than life, bigger than himself if such a thing were possible.
Apollo’s hands worked at Dylan’s fly, long fingers tracing his cock through the fabric before freeing him. A bit of jostling and his pants were off. Dylan returned the favor, pulling Apollo’s pants down and withdrawing his dick, and then—heaven—Apollo shoved his hands aside and ground them together. How the fuck did the man manage to make near-combat-level making out so sexy?
“Tell me what you want,” Apollo commanded, authoritatively licking at Dylan’s neck.
“Uh...” The man really did make every last one of Dylan’s brain cells take a vacation, and Apollo didn’t help matters, massaging and cupping his ass, fingers tracing his crack. All Dylan could do was groan.
“Want to fuck me? Would that get you off?” Apollo’s voice was a low lick of seductive promise.
“Oh...fuck.” He panted as Apollo traced circles around his rim. “You don’t play fair.”
“Never said I did.” Apollo’s grin was lethal.
“Want to get fucked.” He pushed back against Apollo’s questing fingers. “Please.”
“You ask so nice.” Apollo bit the tender skin where Dylan’s neck and shoulder met. Oh yes. Dylan’s insides thrummed with something he hadn’t even be aware of wanting—the return of bossy, dirty-talking, toppy Apollo. Forget playing fair. Forget deals. What Dylan wanted was this. Right here. Right now.
As if he’d been doing it for years, Apollo deftly reached over to the nightstand and extracted Dylan’s lube from the top drawer while kissing him soundly. Slick fingers returned to torment his ass. “This what you want? Need this?”
“Mmm.” Dylan’s eyes drifted shut, and he forgot all the reasons he’d been reluctant to do this in the past as Apollo teased the tip of his finger in.
“God, you’re tight. You have done this before, right?” Apollo’s laugh said he wasn’t truly worried, but his eyes were wary.
“Uh-huh. Not a virgin.” Their eyes met, and for a second Dylan was a teenager again, dreaming about Apollo being his first, playing with his own fingers. He’d taken care of the virgin bit senior year with Tyler Dawson, but he’d never stopped fantasizing. Some dreams do come true.
Apollo’s blunt fingertip penetrated him fully, and he was rather grateful to ol’ Tyler for teaching him how to relax because nothing on Apollo was tiny, not even his index finger. Apollo’s free hand dragged Dylan down for another kiss, positioning them so that Dylan was riding back on Apollo’s fingers while Apollo just as surely fucked his mouth, owning Dylan with lips and tongue and delving fingers.
“Want to fuck you like this, you riding me. Want to watch you fly.”
Right then Dylan almost believed he could take flight, that the beating inside his chest might give birth to wings with which to ride out these sensations. “Yeah. Want that too.”
-->
