"Yes," Bryan panted, trying to thrust back for more.
Alex grunted, bent his knees, and got an even better angle.
Fireworks went off in Bryan's prostate, and somehow Alex knew.
"That's it," he said, his hand abruptly moving on Bryan's cock, the motion rough but effective. "That's it. That's—"
He plunged in deep and stiffened, and Bryan's ejaculation just about exploded from his prick. He actually heard his se**n hit the sink pedestal. The orgasm was so good he had to shove his forearm in his mouth to keep from crying out. When another peak of feeling welled at the end, his legs threatened to buckle.
"Don't stop," Alex said. "I need another."
Bryan could hardly believe it, but those three words were enough to harden him again.
Alex's second sprint to orgasm was as quick as the first, too quick for Bryan to follow. He bit Bryan's shoulder when he came that time, probably the sexiest love bite he'd ever had, because he knew for sure Alex hadn't meant to lose it like that.
"Shit," Alex said, coming to enough to see the mark. "I knew I'd hurt you if I made myself wait that long."
Bryan began to laugh. He turned around and wrapped Alex in his arms, kissing his reassurance into Alex's sighing mouth. To Bryan's delight, Alex didn't pull away for a long, long time.
His skin was velvet on Bryan's chest, as preternaturally perfect as his c**k had been.
"Okay," Alex said at last, a bit breathless. "I guess you don't hate me after all."
"That's your conclusion?" Bryan teased. "That I don't hate you?"
Alex averted his gaze. "I know you feel more than that."
Bryan snorted at his embarrassment. "Alex, I'm not expecting you to marry me because we f**ked."
Alex flushed up to his hairline. "I'm honored that you care about me. Really. That's why I—I didn't want to screw up our friendship."
"You haven't screwed it up."
Alex's mouth twisted. "There's plenty of time for that."
"Right," said Bryan. "In Fairyville."
The wryness of Alex's expression just might have slanted into a smile. Still not looking up, he slid his hand down his friend's belly, his fingers skating through his black pubic bush. It was a gentle, intimate gesture, one Bryan hadn't expected. "I didn't finish you."
His palm had an interesting tingle as it wrapped Bryan's shaft. His erection had been subsiding, but that little surge of whatever it was brought him up.
"Oh, no worries," Bryan said, his voice a fraction higher than before. "I'm perfectly happy to let you make it up to me now."
Chapter Three
Bryan and Alex were cruising north on I-17, halfway to Sedona, when they had a fluke accident. Bryan didn't see how it happened, but somehow Alex caught the sole of his shoe on the gas pedal, and the thing peeled off like the top of a sardine can.
Fortunately, Alex's reflexes were quick. The wheels barely squealed before he was able to pull over onto the sandy verge. In the distance, a lone saguaro cactus raised beseeching arms to the sapphire sky.
"How the hell did I do that?" Alex demanded, pulling the remnants of the loafer from his bare foot.
His mood had not been cheery to begin with, but he frowned in genuine affront at the ruined shoe. As a rule, Pis learned to expect the unexpected. Subjects rarely did what suited their convenience. Bryan had noticed, however, that Alex didn't like it when the things he believed he could plan didn't go according to.
"I can take the wheel," he offered, without a single objection to driving Alex's beautifully kept, dark-brown, eight-cylinder Audi. His own two-year-old Buick looked more like ten—and that was before you considered the fast food trash. It had never run as smoothly as the Audi, not even when it was new.
"That's okay," Alex declined. No surprise, since he was kind of a control freak about his car. "I saw a sign for Target at the last exit."
When Alex came out of the store, at least twenty minutes after going in, Bryan couldn't contain his amusement. Alex's face was storm-cloud dark.
"Don't. Say. A word," he ordered, sliding grumpily back into the driver's seat. "These were all they had in my size."
"Yeah, 'cause thirteen is such a freakish shoe size for men." Totally cracking up, Bryan craned to get a better look at the glory that clad his partner's feet. The shoes were neon-yellow high-tops with—oh, Lord—was that Wile E. Coyote printed on the side? Tears of laughter began to squeeze out from the corners of Bryan's eyes.
"Shut up!" Alex said, but Bryan was having too much fun.
"They're rad," he choked out between gasps for air. "I'm sure they're all the rage with the high school boys."
Alex covered his face, finally beginning to laugh himself. "I swear, I searched every shoe in that freaking store. This was the only thirteen they had."
"Well, they go great with your navy sport coat. Very preppie casual."
"Asshole," Alex said through his grin. He put the car into gear and backed neatly out of their spot. Witnessing the deft maneuver, Bryan could hardly blame him for wanting to drive. Alex was a genius behind the wheel. Now he narrowed his eyes at Bryan. "You just wait till we get to Fairyville. Then you'll see this weird shit happens all the time."
"Can't wait," Bryan promised, relaxing back in his seat. The happiness that rose inside him had been a stranger far too long.
Meeting his laughing gaze, Alex reached out briefly to squeeze his hand. It was a boyfriend squeeze, sweet and spontaneous. It surprised Bryan enough that he had to turn his face to the window, to hide how his own eyes pricked.
Don't get ahead of yourself, he warned his budding optimism. He and Alex had only had sex once. In Bryan's experience, this was no guarantee of a great romance. Alex had slept with a lot of people. In fact, he'd slept with more than Bryan had suspected, considering he'd only guestimated the female ones. Bryan wasn't sure he could count them all without a calculator. Alex had dates most weekends—sometimes more than one. That little hand squeeze could be nothing more than a friendly bit of afterglow.
Determined to play it cool, Bryan curled his fist on his thigh.
As luck would have it, Alex glanced at him just then.
"I'm glad you're here," he said in his perpetual bedroom voice.
The acknowledgment was too much, the little extra rasp of sincerity. Every shred of Bryan's caution instantly tore loose in the highway wind.
It wasn't unusual for a being of Magnus's persuasion to enjoy sexual release numerous times a day. The fey were a lusty lot, and sex was like food to them: something to be enjoyed with gusto, not life or death serious. In the decade since Magnus had stolen, unsanctioned, into the human realm, he'd enjoyed countless such tasty meals.