Page 13 of Bears & Bakeries (Sweet & Stocky #2)

THIRTEEN

Tight Booth

S parks crackled across Benedict’s skin, urging haste. Urging immediacy . Those sparks told him to tear his boyfriend’s clothes from his body and lick all the way up his furry chest, stopping at the hard peaks of his pink nipples, making Locky shake under his attention. They told Benedict to lay Locky down and take what he needed, what he’d desired since the first moment he saw this incredible man, all those weeks ago, awkward and nervous and so horny he’d gotten rock-hard from just a hug.

But he didn’t rush the moment. Because Benedict wanted to savor this man. To bring life to all the emotions running through Locky’s face—excitement and nerves and anticipation.

Because Locky couldn’t remember most of the sex he’d had. That meant he probably didn’t remember what it felt like to top—the pleasure and power and the incredible passion of it all.

And if this was the first time Locky remembered fucking someone, Benedict wanted him to remember it right .

Locky gave him the cutest smile as Benedict brought their lips together, blond eyelashes closing softly as their tongues met, stoking Benedict’s fire. And they were stoked even further by the soft moans that left Locky’s mouth, vibrating through their connection, tongue tip to tongue tip.

They’d been far too busy these last few weeks. Neglecting each other. Neglecting their needs. And now, all that pent-up desire was boiling inside them both.

Locky grabbed at Benedict’s belt, fingers fast and clumsy. Benedict laughed against Locky’s teeth. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who’d been looking forward to this.

“Sorry,” said Locky, moving the leather more slowly through the belt loops.

“You’ve been thinking about this ass a lot, huh?”

Locky grabbed hold of Benedict’s butt, rough and hungry. Each hand covered barely a quarter of a cheek. “You have no fucking idea,” he growled.

“And what do you want to do to it?” said Benedict, swiveling against Locky’s fingertips and making the nails dig deeper. It was a sharp bite through fabric, making Benedict shudder.

Locky’s cock throbbed hard against Benedict’s thigh. “I want to taste you.”

“ Fuck yeah ,” said Benedict, bringing their lips together again, relishing the haste of Locky’s tongue and thinking about him sliding it deep into his tight ass.

Suddenly, incredibly , one of Locky’s hands shot up and grabbed the back of Benedict’s collar, yanking their mouths apart.

It was a forceful act. A w elcome act.

Locky’s eyes were hungry now. No, not hungry. Starving . All of Locky’s shyness was replaced by something more primal. More yearning.

Now it was Benedict’s turn to groan. At Locky’s force. At his command. At the steel that now filled those sky-blue eyes.

His own cock pulsed hard in its cage, wanting more of this Locky. Wanting all of this Locky.

Because, suddenly, Locky was staring at him like a carnivore eyeing his prey. Like he hadn’t fed in many, many moons.

And never in his whole life had Benedict felt more desired.

As if overcome with an unholy heat, Locky licked up Benedict’s neck, fast and rough. Tasting his scent and his sweat. When he came to Benedict’s mouth, he kissed hard, ravenous for every inch of him. “You know what I want?” Locky said, steel and fire in his voice.

“Tell me,” whispered Benedict.

“I want to fuck the cum out of you,” he growled, grabbing either side of Benedict’s business shirt and tearing it open, buttons clattering to the floor around them. “I want to hear you scream as I fill you with my fucking load.”

Benedict’s whole body shook at the power in Locky’s voice. “Green, Mr. Sorenson. So fucking green! ”

Before he could even catch his breath, Locky pushed Benedict onto the booth table, back flat against the marble.

The stone was cold against Benedict’s hot skin, visceral and delicious in its contrast. Another hand pulled hard on the hem of Benedict’s pants, not even bothering to undo them—the hunger too great, the desire too demanding. There was an animal scrape of stitching as the suit pants tore over Benedict’s ass, the sensation of ripped fabric sharp and sensual.

Because Locky needed him.

And he didn’t have time for niceties.

A big wave of cold hit Benedict’s bare ass as what was left of his pants and briefs were tugged down to his ankles. His cock sprung out, wet and harder than he’d ever seen it before, the silver piercing glinting clear and pornographic in the warmth of the moonlight shades, a corona dazzling on his slick precum.

Locky pulled his own jeans down with equal haste, his godly dick pouncing out, hard and hairy and pointing to the ceiling with its intimidating curve.

Before Benedict could praise him, Locky had hoisted himself fully onto the table. It creaked under their shared weight as Locky prowled toward Benedict like a tiger through tall grass—the metal buttons of his ankle-bunched jeans clanking on the marble like a summoning bell.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Locky growled, grabbing Benedict by the shoulders and spinning him 180 degrees on the smooth surface, until Benedict’s head was by the edge of the table. Locky climbed over the top of Benedict, into a 69 position. “Stick your fucking tongue out!”

Benedict obliged, spreading his lips wide and extending his tongue tip. As Locky’s beefy, blond-thatched thighs spread over his face, Benedict wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything as beautiful. Locky’s big balls were hanging just inches from Benedict’s nose and smelling of their busy, sweaty day. Over the top of his obediently open mouth was the most incredible cock he’d ever played with, so long that both of his hands wouldn’t be enough to hold it all.

Locky’s cock was twitching in anticipation, a clear drip of precum bobbing from his foreskin, growing longer with each throb.

Slowly, Locky lowered his hips until those big balls were dipped against Benedict’s waiting tongue. A low growl came from overhead as Locky moved his hips back and forth, allowing Benedict’s tongue to trace the full weight of his nuts.

He tasted of salt.

He tasted of beast .

As the heat of the Locky’s cock radiated against Benedict’s chin, close but not yet touching, it was like Locky was measuring Benedict’s throat for length. Benedict couldn’t see it from this angle, but he knew the pink and white shaft measured down past his neck, reaching all the way down to the notch between his collarbones.

Suddenly, Locky shuffled the slack of his bunched jeans under Benedict’s head, cradling him between Locky’s ankles in a makeshift hammock of denim and cotton. The leverage was such that Benedict’s head was held firm, trapped and unable to escape. If Locky moved his ankles up or down, Benedict had no choice but to follow.

Locky lowered his hips further, sliding his hard cock across Benedict’s face. The warm wetness of Locky’s swollen glans left a trail of excitement dripping onto Benedict’s chin. The veins of his shaft ground against Benedict’s lips and tongue as Locky drew his hips back, making as much room as he could. Trying to slide his cock down Benedict’s throat.

The heft of the dick strained hard against Benedict’s cheek, with Locky being so hung that he could barely make room to reposition himself. It was a realization that made Benedict’s own cock jump, stickiness gathering all across his lower belly.

Because the pressure against his cheek, the strain of the effort, was a visceral reminder of just how big the man really was. Just like it made clear the promise of the position, with Locky’s hips locked over him, and with Benedict’s helpless head stuck between Locky’s shoes, moving up and down whenever Locky shifted his ankles.

Benedict savored that incredible view for one last moment: cock and balls and furry pink asshole.

And just when he couldn’t handle the anticipation any longer, two things happened that overwhelmed Benedict with heady perfection.

The first was an upward shift in Locky’s hips as he leaned his body forward, allowing his big, slippery cock head to pop into Benedict’s grateful mouth, filling it quickly and forcing his jaw to stretch in accommodation.

The second was a warm sensation around his own cock, as Locky eagerly returned the favor.

Benedict groaned at the welcome relief, a salve to a burn, as Locky’s tongue glided over Benedict’s piercing in slow, deliberate circles, making Benedict twitch involuntarily.

That incredibly, squishy warmth was accompanied by the slow thrust of Locky’s own cock across Benedict’s tongue, rolling back his foreskin as it crept, inch-by-patient-inch, down his throat.

Benedict’s cock pulsed as Locky slid deeper into his throat, the thickness of the shaft filling him. Benedict used his experience to control his breath as the cock reached the choke point, where breathing was no longer possible. Benedict felt a jet of precum spurt from his own cock, a full shot rather than a drip, which was confirmed by the unexpected throaty noise that Locky made, swallowing that salty gift.

All the sounds Locky made were driving Benedict wild—growls of animal joy at everything he was experiencing. And that sound only intensified when Locky decided to join in with the deep throating, struggled his way about halfway down Benedict’s girthy cock, forcing through the gags of his own inexperience.

Not that Locky seemed to mind that effort. Instead, Locky’s full balls were already gathering closer to his body in anticipation of the massive load he would soon shoot.

Benedict ran worshiping hands across the godly heft above him, down the broad back and big, blond-furred ass. There was so much there to feel—so much power and weight that Benedict felt small underneath it all.

Small and dominated and wanted .

The fullness in Benedict’s throat grew as Locky filled him further, and even Benedict had to fight against the gag. It was a sensation that always made his skin prickle. Scary and hot at the same time. That feeling of your lungs being cut off. Of wanting to breathe, needing to breathe, but having so much cock in your mouth that you couldn’t.

Benedict’s voice box quivered as he tried to hold the cough, before finally gagging hard on the slab of cock.

Locky pulled his cock back fast, and Benedict was worried he might withdraw it completely. But Locky had learned from their recent experiences, pulling his cock out just far enough to free Benedict’s windpipe, making Benedict gasp wet breaths through a full mouth of slippery skin.

He’d barely got his breath back before Locky was forcing his dick deeper. His thrusts were faster this time—the sensation of dominance making Benedict’s eyes roll back into his head.

He knew that he could knock against the table at any time—making Locky stop. But no part of Benedict wanted Locky to do that.

He wanted this.

All of this.

The warm slipperiness around Benedict’s own cock shifted, no longer swallowing him but running a heavy tongue down his shaft and across his balls.

Locky’s tongue didn’t stay on Benedict’s balls long, because no sooner had Locky reached the full depth of Benedict’s throat, than he grabbed the back of Benedict’s knees and forced them against Benedict’s belly, turning him into a bearish pretzel.

Locky spread Benedict’s ass even wider until Benedict could feel Locky’s hungry breath brushing against his tight ring.

Benedict gasped through his full mouth of cock as Locky’s tongue came hot and hasty onto his hole. The hungry tongue was joined by an even deeper thrust down Benedict’s throat, pushing for depth where none remained. Locky tongued him deep and hard, mimicking what he was doing to Benedict’s mouth. Mimicking what he so clearly wanted to do to Benedict’s ass.

Benedict’s gag was met with another withdrawal, the movement coming from Locky’s hips alone. But the rimming didn’t stop, deep and probing. There was just enough time for Benedict to rasp a single hot breath before the next thrust came, finding the full depth even faster than before, taking advantage of his vulnerable position and his well-lubed throat.

Benedict gave a muffled groan as Locky forced his elbows into the back of Benedict’s knees, opening him up even wider, trapping him even more, making him feel even smaller and more commanded.

Locky’s tongue was like fire against his ass, and Benedict wanted all of it. Wanted Locky’s tongue to loosen him. To make a contract with his ring, promising just how hard he’d soon be fucked.

That feeling of being commanded only increased when Locky brought his own ankles up, all the way to the back of his knees, with Benedict’s head still trapped by the denim sling. Benedict gagged hard as he was forced up into a crunch, unable to escape the quickening thrusts down his throat. The straining fabric against the back of his head was like a firm hand shoving him onto the cock, letting Locky throat fuck him in long, powerful strokes.

Benedict gagged and breathed whenever he could, but no sooner was his throat empty than the next thrust came—a thump of weight against his chin and nose. Locky was so hard now that Benedict could feel the cock pulsing against his esophagus.

Locky’s own hunger was proved by just how deep his tongue was jamming into Benedict’s ass, his lips pressed flat against the full stretch of the hole.

As Locky moved into a rhythm, Benedict’s mind started to converge on the two points of pleasure. Taken from both ends. Dominated from both ends. The urge grew like a fire in his belly, magma in his balls. The urge to have this man unrestrained inside him. To be pinned down and fucked deeper than he could take, more overwhelming than anything he’d previously experienced. To have his limits pushed, pain and pleasure and discomfort and the urge to be fucked harder, harder, harder !

He wanted it.

He needed it.

And he needed it now!

“Fuck me!” Benedict spluttered when his mouth was next free. Spit dripped down his chin and pooled over the marble. “I need you to fuck me, Locky!”

Locky leaped down from the bench, the creak of table mixed with the wet slap of curved cock against his ample belly. Benedict barely had time to get his bearings before Locky spun him around again and yanked him ass-first toward the edge of the table. Through the whole motion, Locky kept Benedict’s knees pinned to his chest, hole up in the air.

It was the perfect position for Locky to rub his throat-slicked cock head against Benedict’s tongue-fucked hole.

Benedict groaned at the initial sensation of pressure, teasing his tightness and making his belly ache in anticipation. He looked up dreamily to Locky, who’d lost none of his dominance. But now, that dominance was joined by a look of contentment, warm and glowing. A complete confidence in what he was doing.

Locky’s strong, bread-maker’s hands rocked Benedict’s whole body back and forth, letting Benedict’s tight hole bob up and down on Locky’s swollen glans. At first it was just a wet kiss against his ring, delicate and velvety, a promise given and taken away. Then, that rocking was followed by the slightest spark of depth, no more than a half inch down Locky’s slippery head, but enough to make Benedict gasp.

Locky did that far longer than Benedict expected, keeping him at his mercy, entering him shallow, in a torturous tease. Each grip around Locky’s dick made Benedict’s ass scream for more. For every long inch of this big, beautiful man. To have him slip fully past his first ring, stretching him wider than he’d ever been taken.

It was a desire that was only increased by the way Locky’s cock bounced up at each withdrawal, half from the momentum, half from the vein-bulging throb of sensation as Benedict’s hole gripped him tight, not wanting to let him go.

They both grunted in unexpected unison when Locky got a little deeper than he’d anticipated on one thrust, slipping almost all his bulging head inside.

But Locky didn’t take it away. He let it stay there, thick and hard and stretching Benedict wide.

Benedict panted at the incredible sensation, feeling his ass gripping hard against it, too rigid to yield against his strangle.

He didn’t know what Locky would do next—pull out or push deeper. But after all the taunting of his hole, first tongue and now cock, Benedict was in no mood for teasing.

Locky’s arms shuddered as Benedict pressed his hips down, stealing the depth he craved. It was like his ass was starving, like it was wolfing down a slab of juicy steak.

“Fuck!” Locky barked in surprise as Benedict got his ring past the full cock head.

Benedict whimpered at the unbelievable fullness in his guts. And now, it was his turn to tease Locky, gripping his ass as hard as he could, making the man jolt at the tight, warm throttle.

As if trying to regain the upper hand, Locky dug his fingers harder into Benedict’s thighs, holding him in place as he finally slid his shaft into Benedict’s ass, having to angle his hips to push his upward-curved cock in, inch by slow inch.

Benedict’s eyes almost bulged out of his head as the huge glans slid past his prostate—the sensation so intense, so sudden that it made his whole belly burn. His own cock, which had been lying rock-hard in a pool of precum on his belly, bounced up to full attention, like it couldn’t believe the sensation either. It wasn’t just Locky’s girth that was making his own face twist in joy. It was the curve of his length, pressing forcefully against his G-spot. It filled him so hard, and with such an overwhelming pressure that Benedict’s cock felt like it might burst in two.

Benedict couldn’t believe the intoxicating, immediate effect that Locky’s cock was having on him. He’d been fucked plenty, and enjoyed it too, but never like this . Like he might piss himself or cum and didn’t know which was more likely.

Locky paused at just the right spot that Benedict could feel Locky’s heartbeat through his cock head. “Is that what you want?” he snarled. “You want me to slam this cock into you?”

Benedict moaned incoherently. The heat and the hardness made his body melt into the marble. His mouth wasn’t working. His hands weren’t working. If he’d been holding something it would have clattered to the floor. Because all he could feel was the thickness and the pressure against his prostate, the heat and hunger in his ass.

“Fuck... me,” he moaned, from somewhere distant and hazy, where the world was nothing but a sweet and sticky sensation.

Benedict found himself gripping his ass hard, as if coaxing Locky deeper, as if begging him to give over all he was holding back.

Through the haze, he saw Locky’s eyes fill with a momentary panic. “I don’t— fuck, Benedict —I don’t know how long I’ll last if you keep gripping me like that.”

The words warmed Benedict even further—that even in this moment Locky was looking to be selfless. Wanting to last as long as possible. Wanting Benedict to feel this forever.

And yet, in this moment, no part of Benedict cared how long Locky lasted. Because he felt like he could cum at any second.

Locky’s hands were still pressed against the back of Benedict’s knees. Into one hand, Benedict threaded his own fingers. He drew Locky’s other hand into the slick of precum at his belly, viscous and clear, before wrapping Locky’s grip around his own thick shaft, drawing Locky’s thumb against his piercing.

And in that moment, full and overwhelmed and like every inch of his skin was crackling, Benedict wanted to say It’s okay if you cum, baby . He wanted to say Be with me in this moment . He wanted to say Feel what I’m feeling, Locky.

Instead, Locky’s cock head throbbed hard and angled against Benedict’s swollen prostate. And the only thing he could manage was a whimpering, sobbing, “Fuck the cum out of me!”

And Locky obeyed.

Benedict’s back arched as the remaining inches were driven into him hard. His mouth was locked in a voiceless scream as Locky squeezed Benedict’s cock, rubbing it slippery from thick base to electric tip, sending ripples of pleasure all through Benedict’s body. By the time Locky’s full length was buried to his balls, Benedict was gripping so hard against Locky’s other hand that he feared he might break both of their fingers. It wasn’t in pain, but in a pleasure so indescribable that his consciousness blurred into heat.

“Oh, fuck,” came Locky’s voice, warm and wavering. “You want it?”

Benedict nodded furiously, unable to speak.

“You want this cock?” said Locky, suddenly fast. Thrusting from still to slamming in a matter of seconds. He pulled his whole cock out with a pop, only to jam it back in with a slam—the sheer length and the unbelievable hardness causing Benedict to convulse.

It was beyond.

It was transcendent.

It was. Oh, God, it just was .

Benedict grunted at the brute force behind each thrust—the kind of slam you only got when being fucked by a big boy. One who had the heft in his belly and ass and thighs to really lay the dick in hard . Who had some weight behind their slams.

Benedict’s whole body screamed as Locky picked up his pace—his depth. Benedict’s core was on fire, stoked bright by the coordinated timing of Locky’s deep thrusts and the slick jerks of his dick. It was like his prostate was being massaged on both sides. Like his granite-hard cock was being used to build the brutality of the pleasure.

“Harder!” Benedict screamed, staring down at his straining cock, slippery and solid in Locky’s furious grip. The view was mesmerizing—the slam of Locky’s furry belly moving back and forth, driving his cock deeper than anything Benedict had ever felt.

Locky met the pace that Benedict demanded. Brutalizing his ass. Stretching it wide and deep like Locky was rearranging his insides, hitting squirmy spots with his massive horse cock that Benedict didn’t even know he had.

Locky was grunting just as much as him now, desperate and fevered. That thought burned in Benedict, just like the fire that flickered up in his well-stroked cock. That this beautiful man was about to flood his guts with his huge load.

Somehow, Locky found even more pace, hitting so deep that Benedict flinched. It was too deep, too hard, leaving him overwhelmed and overheated, like the cum was being drilled out of him with heavy machinery. The slamming pressure made Benedict go cross-eyed, until all he felt was the rumble in his bowels. It grew and grew as Locky fucked the hell out of him.

Harder.

Harder!

Harder!

The feeling was suddenly so urgent that Benedict couldn’t even draw breath. It was a fire in his balls. It was a heat in his heart.

“Oh, fuck, Benedict,” panted Locky. “You want me to breed you? You want me to fuck this load into your ass?”

“Give me your cum!” screamed Benedict, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I want all of you!”

“Oh, fuck, Benedict. Fuck, fuck, fuck !”

Locky pounded him harder and harder, stroking Benedict’s cock so fast that he couldn’t see properly anymore. The monstrous pleasure was eating his body from the inside. He felt like a can of soda shaken up, straining at the sides, about to burst.

And his boyfriend was right there with him.

Locky roared as his first jet of cum exploded into Benedict’s ass, the hot flood sliding slick across Benedict’s prostate, bashing it with such ferocity that Benedict lost control of all his remaining senses.

It was too much.

It was too good.

It was... it was... oh, fuck !

Locky!

Benedict’s load was so strong that it almost broke him in two, the convulsions making him seize up against the steel bar in his ass, strangling Locky’s cock with each convulsion, as wet warmth splattered hard against his belly and chest. It slapped across his face, so hard it felt like he was getting punched.

But Locky didn’t stop, slamming his cum-slick cock deep into Benedict’s guts, punching his insides out and making another involuntary jet explode over Benedict’s shoulder.

Benedict sobbed as the pleasure overtook him, the orgasm that wouldn’t end. That he didn’t want to end. It was like he was burning from the inside. Only getting more explosive as Locky stroked his cock faster, sliding his piercing through the molten jets of white, making his whole body shake as a sprinkler of cum splattered all over the booth.

Until, finally, sticky and sweaty and overwhelmed with pleasure, they both collapsed onto the table.

* * *

Locky exhaled as Benedict’s hands came soft against his sweaty back—drawing him in, small and safe.

The fury of moments earlier was still hot against his skin, joined by the radiating warmth of the panting man beneath him. The man that, in this moment, couldn’t have looked happier.

“And you... said you wouldn’t be any good the first time,” breathed Benedict, kissing Locky’s damp forehead and giving a vague gesture toward the flood of cum across the table.

Locky laughed into Benedict’s armpit. “I can’t believe I lasted as long as I did.”

“Me either. I could’ve cum the second you slid in.”

Locky grinned. It was a strange feeling—success, victory, relief. A sense of pride that he’d been up to the task. That he’d made Benedict feel like that —cum like that .

As a warm silence pooled in the room, Locky waited for the turn in his core, the long-grooved instinct of the past decade. The one that would prey on just how brutal he’d gotten. How animal they’d both been.

And those voices did come, the tiniest whispers. Familiar and furious.

But they didn’t last. They couldn’t last. Not against the overwhelming glow of his satisfaction. Not against the look on Benedict’s face—the one that said he never wanted this moment to end.

Locky could feel the drum of Benedict’s heart against his cheek, the rise and fall of his breath—the lifeblood coursing through him. It was the beating drum of the man who had made all this possible. Who could have run away on that first meeting, when Locky had embarrassed himself. Who could have let Locky flee when he’d tried to give up, not chasing him down or convincing him to follow through with his dream. Who could have let him return to an office job, rather than taking this terrifying, wonderful leap of faith.

Instead, Benedict had given Locky so much more.

Instead, Benedict had given Locky everything .

A feeling came hot by Locky’s ribs—too sudden and too shocking. The glow of Benedict’s sun, the warmth of his embrace, and the comfort, Good Lord, the comfort , of just being here with him.

Words were forming against his lips, confused in his throat.

I love him...

His breathing stopped as his heart quickened. Because it was too much. Too dangerous. What if saying the words would make Benedict withdraw. What if saying the words would break this spell and make Benedict realize what a terrible mistake he’d made. What if?—

Locky caught himself spiraling on the thought. But this time, he fought back. Because these words weren’t meaningless. And he felt them—with all his heart and all his soul, he fucking felt them. Even if they were big and scary and new.

Because that was why they needed to be acknowledged.

That was why they needed to be said.

But... that didn’t mean they need to be said now . That wasn’t how it worked in the movies. The lovers didn’t blurt the words out the second they realized them. They agonized over them. They took long walks through winter streets. They made sure the feelings were real. They tortured themselves with doubt—because that meant those feelings had been tested. That meant they’d been validated.

And yet... Locky didn’t want to test these feelings. He didn’t want to wait weeks just to string the moment out.

Because that was who he’d been his whole life—indecisive and uncertain.

And he wasn’t uncertain about this.

Because how could it not be true?

How could Benedict not deserve these feelings?

Locky glanced up at his boyfriend, who was still in the soft light of his afterglow. Benedict didn’t seem to notice Locky’s dilemma. That meant Locky could stay quiet. He could shake these thoughts off and move on without Benedict ever knowing.

But if he did that, what would it make him? If he couldn’t say words like this, then what had he really accomplished? He would be no better than the man from months ago. The man who’d been too scared to do anything, risk anything, be anyone .

And that wasn’t who he was anymore.

He was brave. He’d done brave things.

And he could be brave again.

He needed to be brave again.

“I love you, Benedict,” Locky whispered.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before Benedict responded, but those moments felt like millennia. His chest pounded even harder, wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake.

And then Benedict laughed—warm as a summer breeze. “Awww, I love you too, Mr. Sorenson,” he said, giving kisses all over Locky’s face.

The scattered smooches settled on one long, hot one—at first giggly, and then, as it lingered, more fiery. Locky’s dick sprung back to life, sliding against Benedict’s cum-slick belly.

Benedict separated from the kiss just long enough to say, “Round two?”