Chapter 22
twenty-two
. . .
“Don’t. Move.”
“Wha—?”
They’d fallen asleep. After he’d pulled Heath from the brink and they’d collapsed onto the couch, he’d wanted a second to catch his breath. Just a few minutes to let his heart rate return to normal and the ice pack do its job, then he’d go to bed and get some proper sleep.
It was a solid plan, except for the moving part. The longer he’d waited, the more difficult it had been to make himself get up.
That sure as fuck wasn’t his problem now.
“Don’t! I just… I just need a minute.”
At some point, crashing on the couch had become cuddling on the couch. He didn’t know when Heath had worked his way up to settle on the pillows. He just woke to find him passed out on top of him, their limbs tangled and his soft exhales warming the side of his neck.
Gentle nudges and jostling had failed to make him move.
Heath’s response was instead a koala grapple.
Shoving the bastard onto the floor was tempting, but his stupid sense of decency worried that startling him might trigger an episode.
Less altruistically, his good side was pinned and his bad shoulder hurt like a sonofabitch, so pushing anything wasn’t happening.
Especially something as heavy as a Heath that slept like the goddamn dead.
His final bright idea had been an attempt to roll Heath onto his other side. If he could just squirm a little closer to the edge, he could slip onto the floor. That had gone even worse than expected.
He wriggled his good arm until he could wrap it around Heath’s waist and tried to twist and lift simultaneously.
Instead of rolling over, Heath nuzzled closer, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and sleepily kissed down the side of his neck.
Right over that spot, the one with the direct line to his dick.
So, now he had a… situation, and no goddamn idea what to do about it.
“What’s wrong? Is it your shoulder?”
Groggy and even less coordinated than normal, Heath ignored everything he’d just been told and shifted his weight.
This was technically good, because Jesus Christ, his shoulder was sore, but the shift redistributed that pressure to the thigh slotted between his legs. This was also good. Excruciatingly good. Which was the undoing of everything he’d thought he knew about himself.
The thick muscle of Heath’s thigh nestled right up against the raging hard-on he’d been trying to talk down, and it rendered him incoherent.
The instantaneous pleasure was sharp and exquisite.
Enough to arch his back off the cushions and pull a sound from his chest that he usually reserved for someone with whom he had a far better relationship.
However, it successfully made Heath go still. Deathly still. Evan heard him suck in a breath and hold it and he wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare breathe. No doubt hubby was wide fucking awake now.
“Oh, shit.”
Their compromising position placed Heath’s mouth just behind his ear, and the quiet whisper brushed the side of his neck, sending a prickle of goosebumps over every inch of his skin.
Evan’s eyes rolled back. An electric current raced down his spine, and his hips bucked upward against Heath without shame.
“Fuuuck…”
Heath echoed the sentiment with a low moan, and Evan realized the thick weight on his hip wasn’t something in Heath’s pocket.
“Let me get off—up! I’ll—”
“Stop. Fucking. Moving,” he hissed, grabbing Heath’s hips in a death grip. If he shifted one more time, they were going to have a big, messy problem on their hands—and everywhere else.
“Sorry, I…” Evan tightened his grip, and Heath’s voice dissolved into a harsh wheeze. It made his cock jump, which made the cock pressed against his hip twitch, and that broke the last thread of stability holding his brain together.
It felt good. All of it.
Heath’s weight pressed him into the cushions. The whisker-light caresses of his lips against that damn spot on his neck every time he uttered a word. Every movement created a shockwave of incredible pleasure that pooled low in his pelvis.
Fuck. He should’ve dumped Heath’s sleepwalking ass onto the floor and jerked off in the bathroom like a normal degenerate. Instead, he was this close to humping the shit out of his infuriating make-believe husband.
Heath breathed against his ear. “Evan?”
“Heath?”
“What do you want?”
“I…” Jesus, what a loaded question that was.
Heath trembled in his arms, his fingers clenching into a fist in his hair. It felt so goddamn good he nearly came. That was his answer.
He wanted to kiss him again. Drag his hips down and grind their dicks together until he saw fucking stars. He wanted to know what made a schoolmarm come unhinged. What did it take to make Heath bite, scratch, and curse? Did he overthink everything, or was fucking the one place he actually let go?
He wanted to know what made Heath Lennox come screaming, and then he really wanted to know what the hell was in the water on this goddamn island.
“I’ll do whatever you want, but I have to do something or I swear to Christ, I’m going to die.
” Heath pulled back enough that with a tilt of his chin, Evan could see his eyes.
They were all pupil. So dark, the ring of cobalt was an illusion against the white.
He was so turned on he’d spoken like a normal person, and damned if that didn’t make Evan feel better.
He wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t hallucinating. This was really going to happen if he wanted it to. He just had to decide. Status quo, or seeing where the scary path led?
He slipped his fingers into the thick chaos of Heath’s hair and cupped his cheek, bringing their foreheads together. Heath’s eyes closed and his breathing grew ragged as Evan traced the edge of his nose with his own and brought their lips within a whisper of touching.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
Heath made a tortured sound. “Do you want to do this?”
Deep breath.
“Yeah, I do.”
Heath muttered something resembling “Thank fucking God,” and closed the distance.
There was nothing reserved in his kiss. This was no Victorian matron playing shy and scandalized. Heath fisted his hair and pinned him to the cushions, kissing him hard, until he was so out of breath his head spun.
Holy shit, was Lennox a top?
Heath’s fingers dug into his thigh with bruising strength and tugged with intent. He wrapped his leg around Heath’s hips and shuddered as their cocks pressed together. It was so fucking warm and hard, the slippery fabric of his shorts a teasing caress.
The sharp sting of teeth on his jaw dragged a low, hoarse moan from his lips, a trail of licks and kisses traveling down his neck to The Spot, where Heath bit and sucked, knocking his ability to think of anything but pleasure right the fuck out.
“You weren’t really asleep, were you?”
“I was. Mostly.”
Sonofa—
He grabbed Heath’s hips with bruising pressure and matched the grind with the sweep of their tongues. The more pressure he applied, the louder Heath moaned. He liked bruises, did he? Oh, he could do bruises. He would leave his mark all over that tight, tanned body.
Heath stared down at him with wild eyes and fuckboy hair, his thumb hooking into the waistband of his shorts and tugging meaningfully. “I want to touch you. May I?”
Evan returned the stare, chest heaving, his cock so hard he felt lightheaded from the blood loss. In forty-five years, he couldn’t recall a single time he’d looked at a guy and thought, I want that dick, but right now, the idea of Heath jerking him off was all he could think about.
“Fuck yes.”
Heath pulled down the waistband of his shorts with one hand and spit into the other, wrapping his long fingers around the shaft. Every last drop of blood in Evan’s body pooled into the head of his dick as Heath squeezed and pulled in long, slow, deliberate strokes.
Fuck stars, he saw entire constellations. The birth of a goddamn galaxy.
Heath fisted and jerked his dick like it was his own, but stopped whenever Evan tried to exert free will. So he didn’t. He let go. Relinquished control of his body to the man on top of him. A sentence he would never have expected he’d be thinking a week ago.
“Fair’s fair.”
He tugged at Heath’s shorts, his reward a small smile and a lifting of his ass to make it easier to peel them off.
Evan ran his tongue over the bulge of biceps on either side of his head and slowly sank his teeth into them.
Heath’s skin was warm and salty-sweet, and he shuddered, letting out these breathy little moans any time Evan applied a little suction.
Heath squeezed him meaningfully, running his tongue over the shell of his ear while whispering, “Touch me.”
Evan grabbed his ass and hauled him closer, ignoring the screaming in his shoulder and ribs. They could fuck off. He was busy.
He skimmed the backs of his fingers along the length of Heath’s cock, gratified when he gasped and it jerked against his hand.
It was thick and slightly curved, the head smooth and dark with arousal.
He ran his thumb across the tip, spreading the slick pre-cum, then squeezed his shaft until it gave up more.
He repeated the process while his reserved bookworm moaned, bucked, and muttered nonsense. Until his hand slipped along the shaft in smooth strokes, and Heath threw back his head with a throaty moan that Evan took as motivation to become bolder, kissing him harder, and stroking him faster.
“Jesus. Fuck. Yes.”
They moved together in a symphony of gasps and groans; kisses, licks, and bites; hot, slick skin, and ragged breaths, until Heath buried his face in Evan’s neck and bit down on the magic spot.
Evan left his body. All the tension and stress and disappointment surged free in an explosion of carnal euphoria.
His body jerked and shuddered, the orgasm tearing through him.
He arched into the cushions, panting and moaning until his vision narrowed to swirls of black and white and a hot spray hit his chest.
Teeth sank into the muscle of his good shoulder, Heath’s muscles jerking in discordant rapture as his cock turned to granite. He moaned, dick pulsing in Evan’s fist, covering his fingers and chest until spent, they eased into a boneless collapse.
They lay together in stunned and panting silence, Heath’s face buried in the pillows and Evan staring at the ceiling, struck by the sudden awareness he was half of a naked man sandwich and the filling was a sticky mess of their own creation.
So, was he gay? Wasn’t that something he’d have noticed over the last few decades?
“You’re not gay,” Heath announced from within the pillows.
Evan couldn’t help laughing. “You’re a mind reader now?”
“Your whole body tensed up. I took an educated guess.”
“Well, you’re the teacher.”
“You’ve never considered you might be bi?”
He’d considered a lot of shit over his lifetime, but touching another man’s dick wasn’t coming up on the list. “Not really.”
“Are we going to be weird now?” Heath’s voice was quiet.
“Is that why you’re not looking at me?”
The pillows rustled as he nodded. “That, and once I move, things are going to be cold and very gooey.”
Evan laughed again. “We’re fine, Lennox.”
He relaxed and emerged from the pillows. “Okay, good. Don’t move. I’ll grab a towel.”
“Should I pay as much attention to that request as you did?”
“I don’t see you complaining about it now.”
“Fair point.”
Evan relaxed and closed his eyes as Heath’s weight shifted and disappeared, replaced by the promised cold and gooey, and a strange sense of longing. Something about the weight and warmth. The feeling of being pinned. Compliant. He… liked it, and he missed it immediately.
What in the actual hell had come over him?
He opened his eyes and looked down at his chest and stomach and started laughing. That was probably the wrong question.
“What’s so funny?” Heath was standing there and staring at him with a lopsided smile on his face. His chest wore a matching sheen.
“If I tell you, you’re going to groan and accuse me of being twelve.”
“It’s a cum joke then, is it?”
“Weren’t you getting a towel?”
Heath uttered a guilty sigh. “I’m going, I’m going. It’s just—”
The silence stretched a beat longer than Evan could stand. “Just?”
“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
He was hardly a shrinking violet, but the reverence in Heath’s voice struck him with a powerful urge to cover himself.
“Well, so are you.”
And he meant it, which was the crazy part. This thing between him and Heath was… weird. And intense. Clearly attraction, but different. Cerebral first, then physical. Like the more he’d gotten to know his brain, the more his body wanted in on the action.
Heath flushed crimson and excused himself, hurrying off to the bathroom.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he yelled, getting up from the couch while being mindful of the mess.
Heath met him in the doorway. “No. Well, yes. A little.”
“Why?”
He’d grabbed two of the smaller hand towels and tossed one at Evan’s chest, then leaned against the doorframe and cleaned himself up.
“Beautiful is…” He waved his hand as if searching the air between them for the word. “I’m a solid average.”
Was he fishing? On their maiden voyage?
“Heath, Nate is a solid average. Olivia’s cousin Carl is a solid average. The guy who organizes the shed of water toys—”
Heath held up a hand. “Dominic? The one-man wrecking machine? He is way above average.”
“He is kinda swole.”
“See? Even you noticed.”
“I noticed you first.”
Heath’s mouth closed, his face now blazing. “I… thank you.”
“I think you need to stop dating assholes.”
“That would seem to be the case, yes.”
“What’s-his-face is a loser for not recognizing what he had in you.”
“Are you drunk?”
Evan laughed. “No, but I might’ve hit my head when I saved your life.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Evan took a step closer and cupped Heath’s cheek, running his thumb across those pouty, kiss-bruised lips.
Heath’s eyes fluttered closed, a sharp intake of breath drawing him in another step to press his lips to Heath’s gently.
His lashes fluttered upward, his mood ring eyes swirling through with sapphire.
“Maybe we should take a shower.”
Heath nodded mutely and backed into the bathroom. Evan followed.
It was like he’d woken from a coma knowing a new language. Shouldn’t he be panicking? Questioning every decision he’d made in his life? Maybe, and he probably would at some point, but it could wait. Right now, his only plan was to fuck until neither of them could walk.