Chapter -15- #2
Braylon towels off his curls in the doorway. Water droplets drip from his jawline to his collarbone, slivering down his abdomen. He’s only wearing a pair of white boxers. Damp hair leads from strong thighs to toned calves.
“Either there’s a ticking time bomb in there—” Braylon eyes the paper bag. “—or it’s dessert, which I hope you plan on sharing.” His tongue flicks over full, pink lips.
Denz’s stomach flips in a very inhuman way.
“Neither?”
“That’s disappointing. The dessert part, I mean.” Braylon motions behind himself. “Do you need to—?”
Denz sucks in a sharp breath. “Brush my teeth,” he gets out. “And, like… get ready for bed. To sleep . In the bed. Nothing else.” He feigns a loud, obnoxious yawn. “Wow, I’m so exhausted.”
“All yours, then.”
Denz shifts anxiously around Braylon. He almost slips on the condensation-slick floor before kicking the bathroom door closed. With a shaky hand, he wipes the fog off the mirror, glaring at his reflection.
“Reality check,” he whispers to Mirror Denz. “You’ve seen him half-naked before.”
Mirror Denz looks incredulous.
“Damn it, he’s had your dick in his mouth,” Denz grumbles. “The bed is huge. Sleeping next to him is nothing .”
Again, Mirror Denz fails to agree.
On the gray marble counter are rows of products. Not the freebies hotels provide. Instead, there are different deodorant brands. A brand-new toothbrush next to two toothpaste options. An unscented travel lotion with, according to the ingredients, shea butter and green tea.
Denz is caught off guard by his own helpless smile.
Braylon took the time to search out a variety of toiletries for him to choose from.
Because he knows Denz hates complimentary hotel products.
Or has breakouts from their generic ingredients.
It’s enough for him to strip down to his boxers.
He washes his face with the matcha hemp cleanser Braylon selected.
Brushes his teeth. Throws up finger guns and winks at Mirror Denz before exiting the bathroom.
He finds Braylon sitting on the edge of the bed. In his lap is the bag from the hotel shop.
“Oh.”
Braylon’s eyes trace from Denz’s toes, upward. They stray on his hips, the hair along his stomach, his chest muscles. He whispers, “It’s, uh… not cheesecake.”
He empties out the contents. A box of condoms. The world’s most overpriced travel lube bottle.
Denz wants to throw up, scream, and set the entire hotel on fire. Embarrassed, he rubs the back of his skull. He forces himself to maintain eye contact as he says, “So, earlier. While you were gone. I was thinking—”
“Your first mistake.”
He ignores the sarcastic twist to Braylon’s lips. “Between the party and, I dunno,” he manages, sighing. “We kissed. And it was—good?”
The corners of Braylon’s eyes crinkle a little.
“Then, I thought, well…” Denz’s nose scrunches. “Whatifwehadsex?”
It tumbles out in an unintelligible whoosh. Five words crammed into one.
The silence is expected.
Braylon, doubled over laughing, is not.
“Okay,” Denz says, even more flustered. “Thanks for confirming I have the worst ideas.”
“N-no, that’s—”
“Enjoy the bed,” Denz insists. “I’m just gonna go drown myself in the shower.”
Strong, determined fingers wrap around Denz’s wrist before he can stomp away. He staggers backward. Braylon steadies him. He catches Denz between his knees. His amused brown eyes stare up at Denz.
“I thought the same thing,” Braylon says.
“You… did ?”
“The party. The thing with my boss and your dad. Dancing. The kiss.” Braylon’s chin dips. “Me and you and sex. Tonight.”
Denz isn’t exactly speechless. He’s just not sure how things like vocabulary and sentences work anymore.
“So we’re clear,” he begins, “you want to have sex?”
Braylon winces, then nods.
“With me?”
Another painful nod.
“Right now?”
“Preferably after you stop being a twit,” Braylon huffs.
“I mean, sex is great, but being a twit is—”
“Are you quite finished?”
Denz swoops down for a kiss, not bothering to ask. Another rule broken.
Their mouths crush together. It’s slow, unlike his heartbeat. He groans as fingers find the grooves of his hips. His palms follow the path of stubble to soft, warm cheeks. He arches unapologetically at the noise Braylon makes deep in his throat.
Impatience takes over. Recklessness too. Teeth catch Denz’s bottom lip. A delicious ache. “Yes” spills out so easily, he swears it comes from another room.
Braylon lifts him off the ground. He tosses Denz on the bed. Muscle memory kicks in as Braylon crawls on top of him. Legs instinctively spread. Braylon’s hips roll and…
Oh . Braylon’s so hard.
Denz is too. His hands scramble over the sinewy back muscles. He doesn’t know whether to push or pull but his head’s spinning. Shallow pants escape his mouth as Braylon pins his wrists to the sheets.
He stares down at Denz, a hunger darkening his eyes.
“For the record,” Denz says, “this was all my idea. The sex and the kissing and— argh, why aren’t we doing more of that?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Yeah, yeah, back to the kissing part.”
But Braylon doesn’t move. His gaze dips to where the condoms and lube lie beside Denz’s head.
“I’m on PrEP,” he says, fast and nervous. “And I haven’t had sex with anyone in…”
Denz tries not to react to that pause.
“A long time.”
“Good to know,” Denz breathes out. He’s fighting the urge to do the math on “a long time.” “Me too. On PrEP. I guess I should’ve mentioned that. The other night when you… well.” The heat in his cheeks is unbearable. “And the other partners thing is, um—complicated?”
“Matty at the café?”
“I—”
Braylon shakes his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Denz’s mouth clicks shut. Okay, good. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to explain his sex life since their breakup. Not with Braylon on top of him, the firm shape of his dick trapped behind cotton boxers pressing needily along Denz’s inner thigh.
“I still want to use condoms,” Denz says. “If that’s all right?”
Braylon’s shoulders relax. “Of course.”
Denz isn’t ready for how quickly Braylon scurries off him. Kicks out of his boxers. For him hovering over Denz again, naked. His thick erection bobs from a nest of neatly trimmed dark hair, a stark contrast from the very shaved groin Denz remembers from college.
Jesus, he’s not gonna make it to the next step.
Braylon tugs at the waistband of Denz’s boxers. His eyes ask, Can I? and Denz nods, lifting his hips. When he’s nude, Denz pushes his head into the pillows. He lets Braylon study him with pupils blown wider and darker than a solar eclipse.
“Okay?” Denz asks.
“Quite.”
His hands slide up Braylon’s chest. He thumbs brown nipples. Relishes the euphoric hiss Braylon releases. All his nerve endings catch fire as Braylon falls on top of him. He hitches his legs up and Braylon’s hands reach under to cup his ass.
Instinctively, he clenches around nothing.
“You’re so— Fuck.” Braylon meets every one of his impulsive thrusts. “I want you so much, I—”
Denz pushes Braylon’s shoulders until he can see his face. His fingers skim a prickly jaw. “Shut your Bridgerton mouth and—”
Braylon kisses him roughly.
Everything behind Denz’s eyelids explodes.
They move like that for minutes. Kissing. Rotating their hips so their erections meet over and over. Denz’s belly is wet and sticky. He doesn’t think either one of them can last, but—fuck everything—he wants them to.
He wants…
He jerks out of the kiss, gasping. Braylon watches him with flushed skin.
“Can we…?” Denz starts, wiggling until he’s no longer ten seconds from ruining a pretty hot moment. “I mean, how are we gonna, y’know .”
Braylon smirks, and Denz wants to punch him.
In college, someone always initiated this part. The fucking. They were both versatile, so it was never a fight over who was what position. Usually, they went with whoever started the touching, the kissing, undressing. But Denz doesn’t know if Braylon’s still that way.
If that side of him has changed too.
“I don’t mind being the—” He stumbles with words. “If you’re not into…”
Wow, when did he turn into a sixteen-year-old virgin? He’s literally had sex on a public bathroom counter. Why can’t he say top or bottom?
Something flashes in Braylon’s eyes. Gracelessly he says, “I’m still both. So. Well. Whatever you prefer?”
“Do you want to—”
“Not if you’d like to—”
“Well, I thought you might since—” Denz gestures to himself, pushed against the mattress, Braylon braced on his elbows above him. It’s impossible not to get distracted by the way the muscles in Braylon’s forearms flex.
“What if that means—” Braylon cuts himself off, blushing again.
“Come on now.” Denz grins. “Don’t threaten me with a good time and then go shy.”
Braylon’s dramatic huff ghosts minty breath against Denz’s lips.
“What if I wanted to ride you?”
Denz’s brain goes offline. When he finally manages to reboot, blinking out of a daze, he says, “Yeah. I’m good with that.”
Everything in his head moves at light speed. He’s no help with the condom. Braylon pinches the tip, slowly unrolls the latex down Denz’s aching cock. With a steady hand, he applies a generous amount of lube. He leans up to coat himself.
Denz wants to offer assistance, if only to see what his fingers across Braylon’s hole does, but he’s drunk all over again. Caught in a wave of intoxication as Braylon repositions himself. His body welcomes Denz like the sand embracing the tide.
Their next kiss is deep and thorough.
Denz’s gasps are a verse. Braylon’s whimpers are a bridge. Their moans build to a chorus, echoing noisy half sentences they’ll never repeat in the daylight.
It’s easy to fall back into a routine. Denz’s hips lifting and falling. His fingers stroking Braylon’s spine. Braylon’s hands splayed on either side of Denz’s head as he rocks down smoothly. Sweat slicks their skin, adding to the symphony their bodies create.
Denz’s eyes slide shut. He can’t watch Braylon’s expressions. The blissed-out one. Hard lines melting into soft ones. Instead, he listens for cues: the mewls and hitched breaths and, “Deeper, yes, there .”
He obeys.
Braylon arches into a perfect bow. He squeezes and relaxes, his rhythm never faltering.
How is he still so great at this?
Denz focuses on lasting a minute longer. Then three minutes. Five. Whatever it takes for Braylon to reach that point where he bites his lip hard. Shivers while falling apart on Denz’s cock.
He doesn’t know when Braylon notices how on edge he is. When his tempo slows. When he leans close enough to skim their lips together in an unsealed promise.
“Hey.”
Denz peeks one eye open. “Ugh. Yeah?”
Braylon grins. “You can.”
“Can what?”
“You know.”
Denz exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t say it, can you?”
Braylon narrows his eyes. He whispers sternly, “Come inside me, Denzel .”
That’s it. Denz blacks out. One day in the future, someone will tell him how loud he whined. Kissed his name off swollen lips. Cupped Braylon’s ass, held him in place, and sank deep into him until it felt like endless warmth surrounded his whole body.
Someone will tell him how Braylon shivered. Describe the extreme reverie in his expression when Denz came undone underneath him. How long it took him to catch his breath, smiling against Braylon’s shoulder.
One day, he’ll remember it all and wish he didn’t say, “I really need to pee” immediately afterward.