Page 21

The thing about sneaking around is that eventually, it stops feeling like sneaking.

Somewhere between stolen moments in supply closets and rushed encounters in Chris's car, Dennis starts keeping a toothbrush at Chris's apartment. Chris starts keeping Dennis’s favorite coffee in his kitchen. Neither mentions it.

Tonight, Dennis is sprawled across Chris's mattress, watching city lights paint shadows across their bare skin. The sheets lie crumpled on the floor where they'd kicked them during round two—or was it three? The night air raises goosebumps across his sweat-cooled skin.

Chris notices his shiver because of course he does. He always notices.

"Cold?" His voice still carries that post-sex roughness that makes Dennis’s stomach flip.

"Mmm." Dennis winds himself around Chris, leg hooking over his hip, face pressed into his neck as he breathes in the mixed scent of sex and Chris's stupidly expensive cologne.

"There's a blanket in the closet." Chris stretches, arms over his head, abs flexing in ways that draw Dennis’s gaze like a magnet.

The movement makes every line of his body stand out—the dip of his hip bones, the curve of his ass, the thick muscle of his thighs. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, still pink and slightly swollen from use.

Dennis props himself up on an elbow, openly appreciating the view. His fingers trail through Chris's happy trail, down to where his pubes are newly trimmed—so different from their first hookup when they were wild and natural.

Dennis misses tugging those curls when he's stroking Chris's tired cock, misses the coarse texture against his palm.

He'll tell Chris to stop trimming later. Chris is always doing these little things for Dennis’s comfort, but he wants all of Chris, exactly as he is.

"You could put some clothes on first."

"Why?" Chris scratches where Dennis’s fingers have been teasing, completely at ease in his skin. "Ashamed of what you did to me, princess?" He grins to himself, facing the ceiling, smug as anything.

"Ashamed isn't the word I'd use." Dennis’s eyes follow Chris as he rolls over and off the mattress with a groan, then pads across the room, muscles shifting under tan skin.

His cock sways with each step, and something possessive curls in Dennis’s chest at the slight bow to Chris’s walk—evidence of how thoroughly Dennis had sucked and ground against him earlier.

"No?" Chris throws a grin over his shoulder, catching Dennis staring. "What word would you use then?"

Satisfied.

Claimed.

Mine.

Dennis pushes these dangerous thoughts away. Instead of answering, he gestures him closer with two fingers. "Come here."

"Thought you were cold." But Chris is already moving toward him, dick starting to chub up just from Dennis’s hungry gaze.

"I am." Dennis reaches up, wraps gentle fingers around Chris's balls, using them to guide him closer. "Guess you'll have to warm me up."

Chris's laugh catches in his throat as Dennis nuzzles against his cock, now properly hardening. "Insatiable."

"Your fault." Dennis’s tongue darts out, catches a bead of precum from Chris's slit. Then he wiggles the tip of his tongue inside until Chris's hips jerk. "Making me wait all day at that site meeting."

"You're one to talk, bent over that model explaining the sustainable features to those investors." Chris's fingers thread through Dennis’s hair. "Like I was the only one who couldn't take his eyes off your ass."

Dennis laughs, low and throaty, when Chris's eyebrows pinch together, his full lower lip pushing out into a pout that looks ridiculous on his angular face.

Dennis dips his head without a word, wrapping his lips around Chris's cockhead, letting his pleased hum vibrate through them both.

Triumphant.

Reassured.

Desired .

He takes his time now that they're alone. No rush. No hiding. Just this—the weight of Chris on his tongue, the salt-sweet taste of him, the way his breath hitches when Dennis pulls his foreskin back, tongue finding that tender pink band now exposed and utterly his to toy with.

"Fuck, princess." Chris's grip tightens slightly in Dennis’s hair, drawing a soft exhale at the delicious sting.

Dennis watches Chris's abs clench as he fights not to thrust forward, letting Dennis take his time exploring. Perceiving how the edges of his mouth strain wide around Chris's girth, overstretching the skin and making his jaw ache—a dull, interesting discomfort he welcomes.

"The way you study my dick like it's one of your architectural drawings… it’s like you've never seen one before." Chris's chest shakes with a low laugh.

Dennis pulls off with a wet pop, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. "It's the only one I've ever seen up close," he admits.

He rubs his nose along the prominent vein running up Chris's length, breathing in the musky scent—one he always regrets sucking away with his mouth—that's become oddly familiar. Comforting, almost.

"Maybe I just like knowing what makes you tick."

"Pretty sure you've got that figured out by now." Chris's voice sounds strained as Dennis squeezes his base, making everything tighten and darken. "Christ, look at what you do to me."

"Show me." Dennis takes him deeper this time, forcing his throat to relax with effort, willing himself not to trigger his gag reflex.

When his eyes start to water, he pulls back slowly, letting Chris’s cock slide out—painfully fat, spit-slicked and shiny. "Show me what I do to you," he says, a little hoarse this time.

The words make Chris's hips stutter forward, pressing through his lips.

Dennis takes him in—once, twice—working him with lips, tongue, and the barest scrape of teeth, just enough to make Chris’s control falter.

"Careful what you wish for, princess." Chris's whole body trembles with the effort of holding back. "Might not be able to stop."

Consumed.

Indulged.

Addicted .

Dennis pulls off, lips red and lush. He glances up at Chris through long, dark lashes, hands gripping the front of Chris's thighs. "Maybe I don't want you to."

Chris yanks Dennis’s head back by the hair, just rough enough that Dennis’s lips curl into a wide, sly smile—like the cat about to get the cream. All of it.

"Where do you want me?" Chris asks, his voice shaking even as his hand grips the base of his rock-hard dick.

Dennis sticks out his tongue, eyes rolling skyward as he considers his options.

“Fuck… babe, please—” Chris slaps his cock against it once, twice, three times, each tap drawing a curse as Dennis lets him wait.

Chris's grip tightens in his hair, pulling his head back just a bit too hard. He gives Dennis’s head a little shake that makes it bobble.

Dennis looks up at him with big, round eyes—all innocence and too many options.

"Baby... please,” Chris pleads, “for fuck's sake, I can't—"

"Want to taste you," Dennis says, voice silky smooth. "Want to swallow every drop."

"I swear, this is how you’re going to end me," Chris rasps, then he’s thrusting his cock back into Dennis’s mouth. His groan echoes off the brick walls as he comes, fingers tight in Dennis’s hair, holding him there like he never wants to let go.

When Dennis pulls back, lips swollen and glistening, Chris hauls him up into a kiss that tastes like both of them.

Adored.

Savored.

Irresistible.

"My turn," Chris pants against his mouth, already reaching between Dennis’s legs. “I get to have something now.”

His fingers find him still slick from earlier, when he'd worked Dennis open for what felt like hours. "Still loose for me, princess?"

“Well, you’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?" Dennis’s head falls back, his fingers digging into Chris’s shoulders as those clever fingers push inside. "All that... training."

"Gotta get you ready." Chris twists his fingers just right, making Dennis arch with a whimper, knees shaky where he stands with his legs apart. "I can't even get my head in there, beautiful. Maybe we need to do this more often.“

As much as Dennis had fantasized about it, the last time they tried three fingers at his apartment, he had been sore for days, his body clenching up tight on reflex whenever Chris's cock came anywhere near his entrance after that.

Chris had been apologetic, regretting the roughness of their encounter. Dennis had been simply impatient, whining at Chris to hurry it up and “just stick that humongous thing in there, I can take it, you pussy, I swear!”

But Chris remained maddeningly patient. "I want you to enjoy it, not suffer through it," he'd said, kissing away Dennis’s frustration.

As sulky as Dennis had been, the promise in Chris’s voice tonight makes him shiver.

They both know what he means—how Chris's cock is too thick, too long for Dennis to handle yet. How every night Chris stretches him a little more, preparing him with endless, meticulous care.

"Tell me," Dennis gasps as Chris finally adds just the tip of a third finger. "Tell me how it'll feel."

Anticipation.

Longing.

Trust .

"So full." Chris's mouth finds his neck, teeth grazing marked-up skin. "Gonna split you open on my cock. Make you take every inch." His fingers push deeper. "But not yet. Not until you're ready and it feels really, really fucking good."

It's become their ritual now—Dennis asking, Chris describing.

No matter how many times they do this, Dennis never tires of hearing it, and Chris never seems to bore of telling him.

Maybe because each time Chris talks about it, Dennis’s body yields a little more, like Chris's words are preparing him as much as his fingers.

Dennis comes like that, fucking himself on Chris's fingers, Chris's promises hot against his skin.

After, they lie tangled together, sweat cooling again. Chris's hand traces idle patterns on Dennis’s hip while Dennis lightly circles Chris's navel with a fingertip.

Cared for.

Protected.

Wanted.

"Tell me about Seattle," Dennis says suddenly, snuggling himself under Chris’s arm like it’s story time.

"Hmm?" Chris's arm curves around him naturally, pulling Dennis into the space that seems shaped just for him.

"You mentioned working there once. Before Sacramento."

Something flickers across Chris's face, there and gone. But his voice stays steady as he talks about sustainable housing projects, about innovation in traditional spaces, about dreams that sound a lot like Dennis’s.

His whole face lights up as he gets into it, hands painting pictures in the air, voice rising and falling with excitement.

Dennis stays quiet, drinking in these rare moments when Chris opens up about himself.

His fingers find their way to Chris's inner thigh, stroking that silky skin he loves to touch. Playing with Chris's balls until they draw tight under his fingertips. Gently tugging at the sparse, downy hairs he finds there.

Chris's legs fall open wider at his touch, welcoming Dennis’s exploring hand.

"You really believe in this stuff," Dennis says, surprised, when Chris is done.

"Course I do." Chris turns his head to Dennis, like he’s not quite sure what to make of his tone. His smile becomes soft when he sees Dennis’s face. "Why'd you think I stuck around when everyone else quit?"

"Because I'm pretty?"

"Because you're brilliant." Chris says it simply, like it's obvious. "And yeah, okay, the pretty doesn't hurt." He rubs his jaw, testing the hinge where Dennis’s punch had landed months ago. "Most of the time."

Admired.

Appreciated.

Seen .

Dennis smacks his chest, but he can’t help but feel just a little pleased. "Shut up."

"Care to make me shut up one last time?" Chris rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand. One leg stretches long while the other bends up, knee pointing at the ceiling. His eyebrows waggle suggestively.

"Maybe I will." Dennis’s hand slides lower, wrapping around Chris's cock again.

" Insatiable ," Chris laughs, head falling back, white teeth flashing in the dim light. His laughter breaks into a moan when Dennis squeezes. "Fuck, princess, you're gonna make my dick fall off at this rate. Not like I can ever say no when you look at me like that."

"Better put it to good use while it's still attached then." Dennis’s lips curl up at one corner as he strokes harder. "Could always frame it too."

Then Dennis is squealing in laughter as Chris tackles him to the mattress with a growl, attacking at the neck.

Their giggles soon fade into soft pants and murmurs, breathless sighs and moans. Fingers and tongues and lips and whispers working together until Dennis is shaking apart again. Until they're both wrung out and sticky, finally ready to sleep.

Content.

Cherished.

Happy .