Page 191 of Tech Bros

Will do

Me

Every day.

Jake

I’ll text you. Drive safe. Love you.

Me

I love you too

The sun is starting to set as I cross the bridge back into San Francisco. Spring is my favorite time of year here. Not because everything is suddenly in bloom in late March, but I can feel it coming. The rain smells different. Greener. Like there’s a point to it.

Acting on a hunch, I go to Deacon’s apartment instead of my own. I have the door code and a key now. It’s quiet when I come in, but I make my way to his room and find him asleep, sprawled in the center of his bed. I let out a breath, relief coursing through me at the sight of him.

Granted, there was a part of me that silently prayed Evan would be here too, snuggled into his side, but this is enough. I take off my outer layer of clothes, leaving myself in only a t-shirt and my boxer briefs before getting into bed with him. He stirs, notices me, and slides an arm around my waist, pulling our bodies together.

“Hi,” I say.

He dips his head to press kisses into my neck. It perks my dick right up, and I make sure he knows what he’s doing. His hand slides to my ass, grinding his crotch into mine so I can feel him getting hard, too. We’re the kings of dry humping, although I’m not sure I can call it that since he sleeps naked, and my cock always manages to make its way through the slit in my shorts.

I cup his jaw and bring his mouth to mine. The kiss is deep, in search of the connection that never takes long to manifest itself between us. His kisses are like love letters. Like essays on want and need and desire. “Missed you,” I manage to say on a stolen breath as our hips work in a tandem grind.

“Missed you, too.”

“Where is he?”

“Carmel. He’s close.”

My heart feels like it’s exploding even as my stomach twists again.

“You’ll see him tomorrow, I think,” Deacon says before taking a handful of my hair and tipping my head back to leave a mark on my throat.

“Don’t play with me.”

“Not playing.”

“He could change his mind,” I whisper.

“I know.”

“Are you two okay? Did you fight?”

He shakes his head, moving his hand between us to grip both our cocks in his fist. A strong throb in my core makes me shudder. “You remember that night we fucked him together?”

“Hm?” I ask, losing coherence.

Deacon squeezes his fist. “Was it about this tight?”

“Fuck,” I groan. My forehead crashes against his as I thrust into his clenched hand, precum making us more sticky than slick. “It was tighter.”

“I think about it all the time,” he says.

I do, too, and my body remembers it perfectly, which causes my balls to lose the battle with restraint, and I come suddenly with a curse and a long groan.

He’s right behind me, coating us with his thick release and loosening his grip. I lean into the overwhelming sensation, not wanting to be done yet. “Don’t stop,” I beg him.