...Maybe if we just get this over with it’ll be okay and we can move on. Temptation talking probably, but what the fuck. Did anyone ever die of horniness? He was going to go crazy pretty soon, with his cock so stiff it ached more than his leg and that hyper-awareness of Grey’s presence, even when he was not in the same room.
He’d even started to get used to being waited on. Grey was reading a book, sitting in the opposite corner of the main room and hardly making a sound. Dylan pretended to watch TV, but he saw only a vague blur of color and motion and a distant buzz of sound. His gaze and attention kept drifting.
Grey got up, carefully set the book down, and went into the kitchen. He came back with two mugs of fresh coffee and crossed to Dylan’s side to put one on the table by his recliner.
Dylan turned to look at him—really look—which he’d been trying to avoid. He reached out to cover Grey’s empty hand with his own after the other man released the mug. “Are you ready to stop playing games and do what we both want?”
Grey’s eyes widened for an instant. “Do…uh…stop…uh. What do you mean?”
Dylan barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh, quit being coy. You know—and I know—there’s something going on here between us. We haven’t been able to ignore it or pretend it away even though we’ve both tried to. So I’m asking you—what are we going to do about it? I’ve had a woody for two days. It’s hurting worse now than my leg is. And from the way you’ve been moving around, you’re in about the same shape.”
Grey’s dark gaze flashed to his for a moment. A slow grin spread across the younger man’s face. “Are you serious? You’re not just trying to pull my chain or make a smart-ass joke to ease your cabin fever?”
Dylan decided it was time to act rather than talk. He gave a sharp tug on Grey’s hand, a pull strong enough to bring the smaller man down onto Dylan’s lap. Grey let out a gasp and tried to check his fall, but he couldn’t. He did turn enough to land half on the arm of the recliner, but the momentum still carried him into Dylan’s arms. An instant later, their lips met and fused in a kiss bordering on savage in its intensity. It was as if they each tried to devour the other with avid lips, questing tongues and even teeth.
When he broke that kiss, Dylan stared into the bottomless brown eyes, centimeters from his own. He saw a tangle of emotions reflected there. Dylan had surprised himself with his sudden decision to act on the nagging lust and longing that had beat at him relentlessly since shortly after he got home from the hospital.
He wasn’t sure when Grey had ceased to be a nuisance and then a necessary evil to be tolerated until he recovered, but major changes had occurred over the past few days. The younger man was now inside at least some of Dylan’s protective walls and he could not deny the urgent need that raced through him. Where things went next was up for grabs, but he was going to enjoy this while it lasted. Damn the consequences!
“Unless you really enjoy rolling around on the floor, let’s move to the bedroom and get more comfortable.”
Grey untangled himself from Dylan’s embrace and pushed to his feet. He then reached back to give Dylan a hand to hoist himself out of the chair and make the dozen or so steps to the bedroom. The room was small, barely space for the queen-sized bed and a four-drawer chest. A blanket curtain covered the doorway when needed, but for now looped off to one side.
Since Grey kept the stove going full blast, the cabin was warm enough Dylan had taken to wearing sweat pants with the right leg slashed to above his knee to accommodate the cast. He had some old fur-lined slippers that were enough to keep his feet warm. None of that was hard to take off. Dylan sat back on the side of the bed and dragged the pants off after he kicked the slippers aside. Grey stood, knees almost against the mattress, and watched him.
“Well, do you think you’re going to freeze if you get bare-assed?”
Grey shook his head, giving Dylan a sly grin. “No, I was just enjoying the scenery for a minute.” He proceeded to wiggle out of his lined jeans after he pulled off his mukluks, one at a time. How he could stand to wear them indoors Dylan had no clue, but maybe he didn’t have any other shoes with him.
For the moment, it didn’t matter. What did matter were the lean, sleek contours of Grey’s body. His legs belonged to a runner or swimmer, defined but not excessively muscled, toned and well shaped. His cock thrust out of a mat of dark-chocolate curls at his groin, ruddy now with blood and stiff with expectation...