Page 103 of Say It Again

Fresh fury washed over Daniel.

“I should buy it. Then you could just work for me.” Aaron crowded into him farther. “Would that be a hard pill to swallow?”

He shook his head while they pierced one another with their gazes. This man. How dare this man stand here breathing Daniel’s air. How could he say that? How? Surely he didn’t fucking mean it, because it’d be absurd, not to mention unforgivable, but then this entire night had been absurd. Not to mention unforgivable.

He moistened his lips and Aaron’s gaze plunged to his mouth. Even with his features seared to memory, he’d never seen Aaron look quite like this—compulsive, unbalanced, electrically charged. Angry? That was it. He’d never seen him angry.

“Come closer,” Daniel said. There had to have been something broken inside of him to ask that. To want it.

Aaron hesitated, but then he did it. He leaned in closer. There had to have been something broken inside of him to oblige.

“Closer.”

Aaron shifted his weight. He bowed his head deep enough that the heat from his breath misted Daniel’s face and Daniel could reach him with his tongue if he wanted to.

At least the two broken pieces fit together. They each whimpered when Daniel brushed Aaron’s lips with his, the gasoline a crawl away from the inferno.

Daniel peered up through his lashes and whispered into Aaron’s mouth, “Fuck you. Kiss me.”

Chapter Twenty-One

WAS IT pain or was it pleasure? It was funny how the two commingled. Like no matter how diligently everyone tried to keep them separated, they always ended up conspiring together. Or maybe the distinction was perception.

Pain needed a host who cared. Pleasure just needed a host.

Daniel’s lips hurt where Aaron was overpowering them, the same as his skin where Aaron clawed at it, but he was also so hard he couldn’t stand it. He was a host who didn’t care.

The kiss was enough to get him drunk. Which was maybe why he kept stumbling. Or perhaps that was because Aaron was leading him backward toward the bedroom in the world’s most volatile tango, ramming them against an armchair, then a dining room table, painting the walls with their sweat and fingertips. Neither one of them knew this dance.

“I can’t believe you called some guy in front of me.” Aaron’s hands were in Daniel’s hair, and his voice was a smoky growl. “How could you do that? You don’t do that!”

“How could you not come get me?” Daniel sank his teeth into perfect honeyed skin, denting it in little half-moons as he tore Aaron’s shirt down his arms. “You chose him over me. You chose Marco over me.”

“I didn’t choose Marco.” Aaron yanked so firmly on the buttons of Daniel’s pants that he nearly crashed to his knees. Then he willingly crashed to his knees because, well, he wanted to! “And I would never use another guy to hurt you.”

Daniel unstrapped Aaron’s belt in a maniacal whirlwind of tugs. “Well, if that ain’t the teapot callin’ the kettle whore-ish.”

“Shut up, Daniel.” Aaron’s eyes were wide, and he looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “God, shut your mouth. Please.”

“Shut me up, Aaron.” He yanked Aaron’s pants down. “I’m so over talking to you that I’m considering selective mutism—”

Aaron jerked Daniel’s head back by his hair and shoved the length of himself inside Daniel’s mouth. The muscles of his stomach glistened like cuts of wet lattice in the city light spilling through the windows.

“Deeper than that,” Aaron said after a moment, which was going to be a challenge, but Daniel was prepared to literally die than admit that, so he made it happen.

“I didn’t realize this was amateur hour.” Aaron was smiling now, which was both stunning and infuriating. “Make the noises I like. And eyes up here, sweetheart.”

He met Aaron’s eyes, he made the noises he liked, and he resisted the enormous temptation to bite down, but it paid off. Three minutes later, Aaron was struggling to keep his knees from buckling.

“Okay,” Aaron muttered. “Shit. Okay, hold on—”

“And that’s my cue,” Daniel said, having freed Aaron to swipe his hands together and smack his lips. “I was hoping you might last long enough to have any kind of fun whatsoever, but you’re right. This is amateur hour.”

Aaron muttered curse words under his breath as he yanked Daniel up to a stand and tossed him onto the bed like he was one of those photorealistic sex dolls. He wished he was a sex doll as he propped himself on his elbows, gnawed a thumbnail, and twitched with his whole body. It would make this far less confusing.

Was this hate sex? He didn’t hate Aaron, even though he sort of wanted to fight him. Or did he want to bang him? Did he want to fight-bang him? Whatever he wanted to do, Aaron needed to hurry up instead of taking one million years to weed through his drawer for a condom, then another two million to get it torn open. Then he did finally tear it open only to fucking drop it.

“Is this your first time putting on a condom?” Daniel yelled, wide-eyed, making Aaron jump. “Get on top of me. Like, yesterday.”