...“Tonight, anything is possible.”

Tony bit his lip and reminded himself they were drunk—or at least Scott, who’d nursed the bottle for a good half hour while talking about his younger days as a hippie, had slipped way beyond drunk into completely trashed. Tony, however, felt a little too anxious to consider himself pleasantly intoxicated. And he still couldn’t figure out how any twenty-two year old could use the phrase, “in my youth” with a straight face. Had he been this self-assured thirteen years ago?

“You’re too tense,” Scott said, rolling onto his side. He ran his fingers down Tony’s arm, his smile bright and inviting. “And I don’t want this night be filled with negative energy. It’s the jungle, man. Leave all that other shit for the city and just focus on how the wildlife recharges your mojo.”

He was going to pretend Scott was babbling in a foreign language, whispering sweet nothings about how he couldn’t wait to touch him all over.

“I’m relaxed,” Tony answered.

“Here.” He rattled a pill bottle in front of Tony’s eyes as though it were candy. “Do you want one? Always makes me feel good.”

“I’m starting to relax.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Tony released a breath and watched Scott trace around his nipples, enjoying the sight as much as the sensation. Fingers decorated with silver rings played against his skin and raked through the hair on his chest, petting him in soft, soothing motions, just like he needed. The sound of birds and bugs faded as he concentrated solely on Scott and what he could offer.

Without a word, Scott bent over him and nuzzled his chest, his lips smooth and warm, his breath hotter than the Peruvian air. Tony’s neglected dick responded to Scott’s teasing touch, growing hard against his khaki pants and begging to be stroked.

“There you go, mate,” Scott murmured. He lifted his head and leaned forward, his mouth inches away. For a moment Tony stared at full, moist lips and wanted a taste, but he turned his head to the side and groaned.

“Not much for the softer, more sentimental side, eh?”

Tony smiled and reached around to Scott’s back, dragging his fingernails along the Aussie’s neck and shoulders. Waves of blond hair brushed against the back of his hand while his fingertips explored ripples of muscle beneath hot, supple flesh. He’d talked about working a ranch somewhere south of Melbourne and Tony figured long days of roping cattle and repairing fences had sculpted the researcher’s long, lean body. Yep, save a horse and ride a cowboy was definitely on his to do list.

“How long are you here for?” Tony asked, his hand trailing down Scott’s back.

“Hopefully the whole night.”

“No, I meant in Peru.”

Scott trailed his lips down Tony’s stomach, preventing him from offering an answer. He brushed the palm of his hand over Tony’s zipper, sliding back and forth against the length of an already hard and painful cock. The slightest touch electrified him and he groaned, voicing his pleasure.

Inhaling, Scott turned his head to the side. “Three months. You’re not looking for anything serious, are you, mate?”

“No,” he answered quickly. He’d stopped looking for anything serious the moment he’d realized Peru wasn’t a brief stint in his career. This would be where he dedicated most if not all of his life, crouched in a tree for hours or crawling through musky dens—all for the sake of an endangered cat no one had seen in six months now, a distant cousin of the panther so shy the natives believed it was a ghost.

“Good,” Scott answered. A gay pride symbol hung on a cord of braided hemp drew Tony’s attention to Scott’s throat. He couldn’t resist running his thumb along Scott’s strong, defined jaw covered in a week’s worth of stubble.

“I take it you’re not looking for anything serious either,” Tony ventured.