...“I understand it’s an old Spanish custom to bring a gift. My compliments.” Greg handed him a tall, brown sack.

River smiled as he withdrew a bottle of Shiraz. “Gracias, amigo. You may visit me anytime.”

Greg watched strong fingers with practiced skill uncork the wine bottle and decant the dark ruby, almost purple liquid into a glass without disturbing any sediment there might be. He handed the glass to Greg, who swirled the wine and sniffed its bouquet before tasting it. “Hmm. I think the vintner who sold me this was right. What do you think?” He offered him the goblet.

River accepted the glass and repeated the ritual.

When he drank, Greg noticed he placed his mouth where Greg’s had been, and he watched the dark wine touch lips meant for kissing.

“Perfecto.” Rio handed back the glass and poured one for himself.

Greg lifted his drink. “Salud.”

“Salud.”

Greg started to bring his glass to his mouth, but River interrupted him by putting his arm through Greg’s so they would drink with their arms entwined. As they sipped, their gazes met like a bride and groom at a wedding reception. The gesture sent Greg’s blood swimming. When River set his glass on the counter, Greg put his beside it and stepped toward him.

The kiss was inevitable. Greg just hadn’t known how soon it would happen. He’d thought sometime after dinner, but now he wasn’t going to wait any longer to act on his longing to be with this man. Time was too short and not to be wasted any longer. Who knew how long they would be together this time?

River didn’t back away. He leaned in. Their lips met, pressed and slid, sharing the full-bodied taste of the wine. Greg didn’t know which of them had opened their mouths first, but soon their tongues had invaded to explore and delight in the warm moisture inside. The intensity of the kiss heightened into deep pressure and a frantic tangling of their tongues.

“Take off your shirt,” Greg murmured against lips puffy from their kisses.

A trembling River yanked his shirt up and over his head. He reached for Greg’s and almost ripped it off.

Greg wrapped his arms around River’s neck, and River slid his around Greg’s waist and pulled him close. Greg inhaled the masculine scent and paused to enjoy the tingling that began where their nipples touched, but the soft brush of fine dark hairs across his chest sent flaring, churning need through to his core. “I want to touch you so badly I can taste it. I don’t want to share you tonight. I want you all to myself.” Greg rubbed his swollen cock against River’s and heard a responsive groan from deep in the man’s throat.

“Then touch me.” River took Greg’s hand and wedged it inside the front of his workout pants until Greg reached the warm, satiny skin of his cock and closed his hand around it. He felt the tie on his shorts loosen and the slow slide of those and his briefs over his hips and thighs. Releasing River and breaking the kiss, he stepped out of his thongs and shorts.

River stood with his eyes closed as Greg tugged River’s pants and boxers all the way down and off his bare feet. Greg looked at the solid, magnificent man before him, his swollen cock jutting out, with juices dripping from the slit in a head the color of the Shiraz.

With a groan, River reached for him. Greg stepped into the embrace, his right leg between River’s legs where it would trap his balls, just as his were trapped by River’s. Their wet cocks, primed for love, were hard against the other’s hips. His hands behind Greg’s head, River captured his mouth again with his lips and plundered it. Greg clamped his hands on his lover’s butt and locked them tight together as they rubbed harder and harder, taking fierce, hungry pleasure in each other’s bodies.

This was what it was like with a man, Greg thought. Too often with a woman you had to hold back, bringing her to orgasm before you could satisfy yourself. With some, it took too damned much time for her to peak. He supposed some hetero men felt a certain power from knowing they were skillful enough to pleasure a woman and had the control to hold back their own finish. Fucking with a man was different. You could let your fantasies fly and concentrate on your own sensations without worrying about the pace of your partner. Orgasm often happened simultaneously without planning or struggle.