Page 55

There are three bedrooms upstairs, all looking equally unlived in. Each holds a queen bed, desk, and armchair, the decor a mismatched collection of hand-quilted bedding and vintage market finds—clearly chosen by someone who couldn’t resist a good treasure hunt and had no better place to put their spoils than the guest rooms.

Dennis gets Chris into the nearest bedroom, stripping him down to his boxer briefs before tucking him in. When he shifts to give Chris more space, Chris's hand shoots out, fingers closing around Dennis's wrist.

"Don't go. Please."

"Okay, okay." Dennis moves back to sit on top of the covers, but Chris tugs at him again, face pinched.

"Not there." Chris's voice comes rough. "Need you closer."

"Okay, I’m here." Dennis slides under the covers, settling against the headboard. Chris wraps around his waist immediately, head heavy on Dennis's lap. Dennis's fingers find Chris's hair, sweeping it back from his forehead in steady strokes until Chris's breathing evens out.

The moment Dennis adjusts an inch, Chris's eyes fly open, grip turning vice-like around Dennis's middle.

"Shhh, don’t be silly, it's just me moving my dead leg." Dennis keeps his voice light despite the ache in his chest.

"Need you closer ," Chris mumbles into Dennis's thigh. "Don't like being so far."

Dennis looks down at Chris practically crushing his ribcage. "Okay, but you gotta let go so I can at least get out of these clothes."

Chris loosens his hold a little but keeps one hand anchored in Dennis's shirt, then touching his skin while Dennis undoes his belt and shirt buttons. He manages to stretch just far enough to drape them over the armchair without dislodging Chris's grip.

"Better?"

Chris sighs, arms winding back around Dennis's waist, head settling on his lap. "Little bit."

They stay like this for an hour. Each time Dennis manages to pet Chris into some semblance of rest, the smallest movement jolts him awake—eyes snapping open at every creak of wood or whisper of wind.

Soon Chris is just staring at the wall, tossing and turning while keeping Dennis trapped in an increasingly tighter python-hold, leg hooked around Dennis's, face pressed so hard against Dennis's stomach it's getting hard to breathe.

Pins and needles shoot through Dennis's legs.

"Okay, okay—" Dennis tries to shift but Chris only grips harder. "Baby." He scratches his fingers through Chris's hair, into his scalp, feeling Chris go still under his touch like he's afraid movement will make it stop. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, 'kay?"

"I'm sorry about lying to you," Chris blurts out. "About not telling you everything that was going on."

Dennis's chest constricts. After everything Chris did to protect him and their project from Lancaster, he's still fixating on that tiny detail, even with his innocence proven beyond doubt.

"Hey." Dennis leans down, pressing his lips to Chris's temple.

Chris rolls his head back to look up at him, forehead creased. Dennis smooths the lines with his thumbs.

"We're past that, okay? If I hadn't been such an ass when you tried to tell me that night at my apartment, you wouldn't have had to go back to LA in the first place." Dennis swallows hard, guilt sitting heavy in his throat. "I could've been less of a dick about the whole thing."

"No, you had every right to be mad."

"I mean, if we're keeping score, I did attack you first. Twice."

Chris's laugh comes soft. "I missed you so much I thought I was gonna die."

"Please, I missed you way more. Like, I thought I was going to die way… um, bigger."

Chris nuzzles hard into Dennis's crotch, making him yelp at the tickle. "Not everything's a competition, Dennis Kim," Chris grizzles. He rubs his face into his thigh. "Unless I’m winning, and I can’t like this, I feel like crap."

Dennis chuckles, running his fingertips through Chris’s hair, capturing strands between his fingers, then letting them go again. "Come on, you're clearly not sleeping. Let's get you into a bath so you can unwind a bit."

Dennis finds two bathrobes in the closet and helps Chris to the bathroom, Chris still leaning against him more from a need for contact than unsteadiness now.

"Gotta pee?" Dennis asks. "Haven't seen you go once since we got here."

Chris shakes his head but when Dennis presses into his bladder, just below his underwear waistband, Chris doubles over with a hiss.

"Go pee, baby, okay?"

Chris grumbles but walks over to stand at the toilet. He lifts the seat and takes himself out of his boxer briefs. Then he stands there, waiting.

Dennis walks past the sink, noting the counter lined with everything anyone might need—men's razors next to tampons, hair ties and band-aids beside deodorant like they never knew who'd need sanctuary here.

He grabs a bottle of bubble bath and runs the water, testing the temperature before pouring it in. As foam starts building, he hears Chris sigh and grunt behind him.

"C’mon, c’mon," Chris mutters, frustration clear in his voice.

Dennis goes over, props his chin on Chris's shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Ugh." Chris sighs again, giving his dick a useless shake.

Dennis reaches for it but Chris twists away. "Princess, stop…” His eyebrows crinkle. “That’s like, gross."

Dennis snorts into Chris’s shoulder. He smacks Chris's blocking hand aside, then hooks his thumb into the front of Chris's waistband, sliding it around to the small of his back. He pulls the elastic down until it’s under the curve of his ass.

Dennis gives one ass cheek a reassuring squeeze before moving back to take Chris's dick gently in his hands—one cradling underneath while the other strokes down. Dennis nestles his head into the crook of Chris's neck, and Chris gradually leans back against him.

"It's not gross, and I'm not stopping," Dennis murmurs. "You go to town on my ass all the time, you know."

"That—that's different," Chris stammers.

"How is it different?" Dennis asks lightly, breathing Chris in as he keeps massaging his pelvis, one hand still holding his dick while the other works the tight muscles around his bladder, drawing a grunt of discomfort.

"Because I love your ass, it's mine," Chris groans, clearly warring between an increasingly urgent need to go and embarrassment.

"And isn't your dick mine?"

"Yeah, course it is, but— ahh! ” Chris jolts with a shiver. “You're really not making this easier, princess!" Chris's whole body trembles with the effort of holding back.

Dennis turns his head to plant small kisses up Chris's neck, another behind his ear, sucking his earlobe while his hands keep their steady work. "Come on baby, I love you , I love you being safe, being here with me. I love your dick, your pee, the taste of your sweat—even if you blow your nose on me, I’d love it."

After everything they’ve been through, Dennis means it too.

“Urgh, god , why are you so —” Chris makes a strangled sound, then he's gripping Dennis’s arms as the hot stream finally releases. His head drops back onto Dennis's shoulder, chest heaving with each ragged exhale as his muscles finally loosen against Dennis's chest.

"There you go," Dennis murmurs, one hand holding while the other strokes down the velvety length. "How you feeling?"

"So fucking good my head hurts," Chris slurs. “That was kinda almost romantic too,” he sighs, trailing off.

After a moment, Dennis pokes at Chris's dick, making the stream dance around the bowl. Chris yelps "Denny!" while Dennis cackles, sucking a mark into his shoulder.

God, it’s sosososo nice having Chris back. Being together feels like breathing again.

When Chris is empty, Dennis gives him a final shake before pulling his underwear further down. He grips the fabric with his toes, then drags it all the way to Chris’s ankles, before stepping on it so he can step out.

"You're coming in with me, aren't you?" Chris's voice edges toward panic again.

Dennis's chest tightens watching Chris—this unbreakable, larger-than-life man who survived ten years as Lancaster's property, who never showed weakness to anyone, now terrified at the thought of Dennis being more than two inches away from him. How many nights did Chris lie awake alone, pretending to be invincible?

"Of course I am." At Dennis's words, Chris walks with him to the bathtub.

Dennis steadies Chris as he gets in first, Chris's hand gripping his shoulder for balance. Then Dennis strips off his underwear while Chris watches, eyes never leaving him for a second.

"Scoot forward, baby." Chris makes room and Dennis slides in behind him, legs bracketing Chris's sides, his cock and balls pressing against Chris's spine.

The hot water envelops them. Chris leans back against Dennis's chest while Dennis scoops bubbles all over him. Dabs some onto his nose, making him sneeze.

Dennis works shampoo into Chris's hair, fingers circling and pressing at his temples while Chris sinks lower. His ears dip under the water, eyes closed in bliss as Dennis's touch melts away the tension.

The water's turning tepid when Chris props his arms on the sides of the tub, now fully unwound into Dennis. Dennis trails his fingertips down Chris's front, following the ridges between his abs, over his powerful thighs, tracing circles around his navel. Under the water, Dennis cups Chris's balls in his palm, rolling them between his fingers like worry stones, watching goosebumps rise on Chris's skin.

Dennis has been turning Jessica's words over and over in his head since the rescue. Now seems as good a time as any.

"Word on the street is I'm your boyfriend now," he says, trying to sound casual.

"Word on the street is wrong."

Dennis goes quiet, the words landing harder than expected despite Chris's playful tone.

"Word from me is that you're going to be my husband if it's the last thing I do."

Something wild ricochets through Dennis's chest. He opens his mouth, then closes it, not quite sure what to say. When he finally opens it again, all that comes out is:

"That's very presumptuous of you, Chris Rhodes."

Chris finds Dennis's hand under the water, joining their fingers together. "Nuh uh. The way you raised the bar—you did this to yourself. How's anyone gonna follow that —saving my ass, fighting off guys with guns, and being so goddamn talented and gorgeous and irresistible?"

"It was nothing," Dennis says breezily, ears heating despite the cooler water. "Just another Tuesday."

"Wow, actually?" The way Chris actually sounds impressed as he tries to straighten up and turn around to look at Dennis tickles him to no end.

Dennis laughs, dropping his forehead to Chris's shoulder. "No dummy, I almost died. God, just thinking about it makes me want to drown myself in the bathwater."

"You can't do that.” Chris’s voice is steadier now. Low and warm. It tingles Dennis’s insides just like he remembers. “You haven't kissed me yet."

Chris twists as much as he can in the confined space, and they take each other in—eyes flitting over every familiar line and angle made new again after that godawful separation that never has to happen again, ever, ever, ever .

“Pretty sure princesses are supposed to kiss the guys they rescue," Chris says with a pout, lush lips extra puckered. "I mean, I don’t make the rules or nuthin’."

Dennis grins, wrinkling his nose. "Since when do you follow the rules?" he quips, but his voice catches at the end.

Dennis's fingers unfurl against Chris's cheek. His thumb traces the dark circles under Chris's eyes, brushing over the delicate skin of his lids until Chris's bloodshot eyes flutter closed.

Chris leans into the touch like it's his last lifeline. He hasn't mentioned the kidnapping once, as if being kidnapped didn’t even bother him, but he's barely let go of Dennis since the rescue—like Dennis might vanish if he loosens his grip for even a second.

Dennis leans in to press his lips against Chris's—they're dry, chapped, with a scab forming where they’d been split. Chris parts his lips and Dennis follows his lead, keeping the kiss gentle despite his pounding heart and desperate need to taste more of Chris. After everything he’s been through, Dennis won't risk hurting him.

But Chris has other ideas. He pushes harder, sliding one hand to Dennis's neck as he twists around for better access. His lashes flutter against Dennis's cheek while little sighs escape between their connected mouths. They kiss until they're both panting, then Chris shifts uncomfortably, his hardening cock pressing insistently against Dennis's inner thigh in the cramped space.

"What's wrong baby?" Dennis pulls back first, scanning Chris's face for signs of pain. His thumbs sweep over Chris's cheeks, checking for tender spots where bruises might be hiding.

"My dick hurts," Chris groans, rocking against Dennis's thigh like he can't help himself.

Dennis laughs softly, his heart full at how Chris wants him even now. He reaches down to wrap his fingers around Chris's cock, already plotting how to suck Chris into proper sleep. "Let's go take care of it, okay?"

Chris keeps chasing his mouth for more kisses until Dennis has to snort, tapping Chris's nose with a wet finger.

"One more," Chris mumbles, stealing another kiss. "Or I'll explode from wanting you so bad."

"I’ll make sure you do," Dennis teases, but gives him what he wants anyway.