At Attention

by Annabeth Albert

  “Is this good for your back? How should we arrange the pillows for you?”

  “You don’t need to hover. Sit down.” Apollo gave him a dopey smile and patted the bed next to him. He scooted around until he was flat on his back, pillows under his knees. “There. Textbook.”

  Dylan perched on the edge of the bed, but tried not to get too comfortable. Having Apollo in what he thought of as his space was exceedingly weird. “Looks like Marilyn and Pat stopped by for the bags I put by the door. I’ll text them in a bit, make sure they’re all set over there.”

  “You’re so good.” Apollo yawned.

  “Speaking of them, you didn’t tell me that your in-laws are both women. I hope I handled everything okay.”

  “I’m sure you handled it fine.” Apollo rolled slightly so that he was looking at Dylan.

  “How long have she and Pat been married?” Dylan was fascinated by Apollo’s in-laws, but mainly he was looking for an excuse to stay next to Apollo a few more minutes.

  “Forty-three years.”

  “Oh wow.” Dylan hadn’t been expecting that answer.

  “They’ve been together since long before Marilyn transitioned. They’re a pretty amazing couple.”

  “That’s awesome. And Neal was cool with it too?”

  “Neal struggled with it more than me, actually. He was bullied about it in high school and had a rough time accepting it. Maybe it’s easier that I only met her after she transitioned. She’s just Marilyn to me.”

  “I get that. And you can tell they both adore the girls. The twins were so happy to see their grandmas. It’s too bad Neal had a hard time with it.”

  “Eh. He was better after the girls came. Kids are good equalizers.” Apollo yawned again, and his nose wrinkled. “Your bed smells like you.”

  “Uh...sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I like it.” Apollo gave a sly smile as he did a more deliberate sniff.

  “The meds totally take away your filter don’t they?” Dylan laughed and patted Apollo’s shoulder.

  Reaching up, Apollo captured Dylan’s hand. “Maybe. Don’t usually make me this aware.”

  “Aware?” Dylan’s voice came out hoarser than he’d intended as he took in their cozy proximity—somehow he’d relaxed next to Apollo despite his intention to get out of the room quickly.

  “I wouldn’t turn you down now.” Apollo kept hold of Dylan’s hand, drawing it lower to rest against his stomach.

  “Whoa.” Dylan took his hand back. “Somehow we’ve gone from talking about your in-laws to sex and just no.”

  “No?” Apollo’s pout was every bit as good as the girls’. “But you want me.”

  “Glad to see it’s not your ego that’s injured.” Dylan laughed and gently shoved at Apollo’s shoulder. “And doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fuck you while you’re high as a kite on the meds.”

  Apollo blinked. “You’re not...”

  “Nope.” Dylan got off the bed before Apollo could tempt him into changing that stance. He grabbed the spare blanket folded over the chair in the corner and spread it over Apollo.

  “You know...you’re awfully...fixated. On you fucking things.” Apollo laughed like he’d made a hilarious joke.

  “Fixated? You mean toppy?” Dylan had been wondering if this would come up, or if Apollo would assume that just because Dylan was younger that he was naturally more of a bottom. “You’re still just weirded out that I said Maddox would let me fuck him.”

  “That too.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, Toppy McToppy SEAL, but not all gay SEALs are alpha freaks like you.”

  Apollo’s laugh echoed off the mirrored closet doors. “Do you always...”

  “Top? It seems to be what most guys want from me, but no, not always.” I wouldn’t with you. It was way too soon and Apollo was way too high for Dylan to confess that though.

  “I was going to ask if you were always so blunt about sex, but you kind of answered that question too.” Apollo grinned at him.

  “Life’s too short to dance around sex or be afraid to talk about it. I’m not ashamed of loving it.”

  “Well said.” Apollo’s lopsided grin was almost too adorable. “It’s more that you’re nothing like I expected.”

  Dylan had to laugh at that. “I know. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that I’m not a bumbling, virginal teenager.”

  “It’s wrapped.” Apollo groaned and grabbed Dylan’s hand. “So wrapped.”

  “God, you’re adorable.” Dylan bent and kissed his forehead. “Tell you what, you sleep off the meds, and if you’re not in too much pain once you’re lucid, then I’m all yours.” He’d bet money on Apollo not remembering a word of this conversation.

  “Not tired. Horny.” Apollo’s yawn belied his words.

  “Ha.” Tugging his hand free, he crossed back to the doorway before Apollo could pull him down onto the mattress. “You sleep now.”

  “Okay.”

  Man, the big guy all docile like this was almost fun, if Dylan could get beyond being worried for him. He was still getting over how his heart had galloped when he’d gotten Apollo’s text. He didn’t want to be this concerned, didn’t want to care this deeply, especially when the only time Apollo would confess to needing him was when he was drugged.

  * * *

  “Hey?” A gentle hand on Apollo’s shoulder dragged him back to consciousness. Fuck. He needed out of dreamland where he’d had fucked-up dreams with both Dylan and Neal in them. And purple goblins. Because, thank you, painkillers.

  “Hi.” Apollo blinked awake to find Dylan sitting next to him on the side of the bed.

  “You were moaning in your sleep. I brought the meds upstairs, but you should probably eat something first. Feel up to a late dinner?”

  “Dinner? How long was I out?”

  “It’s ten, Sleeping Beauty, so about four hours.” Dylan’s deep laugh was the best alarm clock ever, chasing the cobwebs of sleep out of Apollo’s head.

  “Fuck. The meds did a number on me.” Apollo cautiously sat up. Miraculously, his back didn’t protest the movement too loudly. Slight twinge, but the noisy symphony of unhappy muscles had been dialed down to background music level.

  “I know. What do you think you could eat? My favorite late night dinner is a monte cristo sandwich, but I’m not sure if that would be too heavy for you.”

  “Sounds good.” Apollo wasn’t really up to deep discussions about food. Something warm and hot that he didn’t have to cook was sufficient.

  “Great. I’ll make it and bring it back up to you—”

  “I don’t need a tray like a ninety-year-old. And I can’t stay in your bed all night.”

  “Sure you can.” As usual, Dylan didn’t falter in the face of Apollo’s grumpiness, instead giving him a flirty wink. “I already got a pillow and blanket for the couch for me. And as for a tray, I kind of like taking care of you, so how about you let me?”

  “I’m not an invalid.” Apollo tossed his legs over the side of the bed.

  “You know I liked you better when you were high on meds.” Dylan offered him a hand up. “Tell you what, do you think you could manage a shower while I cook? Or the hot tub? I bet either of those things would help.”

  Apollo gave an experimental stretch. His back protested enough to have him regretting the move. “Shower. I reek. But I’m not sure I can wrestle my stupid clothes back on.”

  “Oh I can help with that.”

  “You can?” I wouldn’t turn you down. Snatches of their earlier conversation came filtering back into Apollo’s brain. Was Dylan expecting sex tonight just because Apollo had a loose tongue when on meds?

  “I can see your brain steaming.” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t accost your naked self unle

ss you ask very, very nicely. I only meant that I can help you with your clothes.”

  “Okay.” Apollo’s brain was muddled enough that he agreed. Yeah, that’s it. Drugs still. Not a desire to be naked with Dylan.

  “Here. Let’s use the downstairs bathroom. That way you can call for me when you’re ready, and I’ll start the food.”

  Apollo could kiss him for giving him an out from using the master bath. He wasn’t ready to be alone with Dylan in that space. Wait. Kissing bad. No kissing. He didn’t even turn on the light in his bedroom as he rummaged in the dresser, grabbing the first things he found. No matter what Dylan said about the couch, he’d find a way to sleep in here tonight even if it took another pain pill to knock him out first.

  You could both share Dylan’s bed...

  No. Not going there, no matter how the thought made his cock stir. God, it had all been so much easier when he’d been loopy on the muscle relaxer. Yes, I want you. Yes, let’s do something. Things he couldn’t say sober.

  He almost called for Dylan’s help getting his undershirt off, but managed to pull it off little by little, then kick off his boxers and pants. He cranked the shower as hot as he could stand, quickly soaped and rinsed, then arranged himself so that the shower spray pounded his back. He stayed like that until the water went from blistering to tepid. Maybe he’d be able to skip another muscle relaxer and get by with just the high-powered painkiller to sleep.

  “Ready for me?” Dylan knocked loudly on the bathroom door.

  No. Totally not. “Yeah.” He shut off the taps, then grabbed for a towel from the rack outside the shower.

  “Here.” Dylan plucked the towel from his grasp. “No sense in having you turn yourself into a pretzel to dry off.”

  “I’m not helpless!”

  “I know. My sponge bath skills are totally wasted.” Dylan blotted Apollo’s shoulders and back with quick, efficient strokes before dabbing at his pecs and stomach. “Although, abs like these, you deserve all the body worship. Just saying.”

  “Job keeps me fit.” Apollo shifted side-to-side, not really sure how to deal with the blatant approval in Dylan’s flashing blue eyes, not when he was feeling anything but fit. Hell, he’d once carried a wounded hostage fifteen hours and here he was felled by a bad back, too stiff to even put his own pants on? Life just kept on laughing at him.

  He grabbed the pants from the bathroom vanity and shook them out.

  “Hey wait, your legs are still wet.” Dylan took the pants and set them back on the counter. Then he knelt, toweling off each of Apollo’s legs in turn. And really, there was nothing overtly sexy in the action, but his soft curls grazed Apollo’s thigh and his breath was warm, even on Apollo’s overheated skin. Predictably, his dick responded to the proximity of a cute guy on his knees.

  “Pants. Now,” Apollo growled.

  “Okay. Okay.” Dylan helped him step into the pants, then pulled them up, avoiding Apollo’s now-raging hard-on. “It happens, you know? I’m not reading anything into it—”

  “Please stop talking.” Apollo yanked on Dylan’s shoulder until he stood up.

  “I’m just saying, nothing to be embarrassed about.” Dylan was still way too close to Apollo’s bare chest. “I’m flattered, really—”

  “Stop. Talking.” Apollo grabbed Dylan’s face so that he could beam the message directly into his eyes, but grossly underestimated what lining up their faces would do to his senses.

  Dylan laughed, but his eyes were far less sure than his laugh, peering warily up at Apollo. He opened his mouth like he had another platitude in him, and Apollo lost his head. That was the only explanation, really, for why his lips slammed down on Dylan’s mouth.

  Someday he was going to kiss Dylan slow and sweet. Controlled. Not the all-out frenzy that seemed to descend whenever their mouths collided. This wasn’t sweet. Wasn’t pretty. It was rough and urgent and needy. So needy. Back to the wall, he pulled Dylan against him. Dylan tasted buttery, like he’d been sampling his own cooking, and like the inexplicable mystery that was him—Apollo could spend years trying to sort out the subtle notes in his flavor and scent that drove him insane.

  “Fuck.” Panting, Dylan broke away. “Really wasn’t intending that. I promised not to come on to you.”

  “It’s on me.” Apollo didn’t release his grasp on Dylan’s waist and face. “I have no idea what we’re doing here. Just that I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”

  “Then kiss me.” Dylan leaned in, and he had far more finesse than Apollo, nipping and sucking at his lips, gently coaxing his way into Apollo’s mouth with a slow, thorough exploration that made Apollo’s dick throb.

  He moaned low in the back of his throat, hand snaking under Dylan’s T-shirt, needing skin right that minute. Dylan was warm. Vital. Alive. All hard muscles, heaving with the force of his breath as he rubbed up against Apollo.

  “This okay?” Dylan kept kissing him, little sips between words as he stroked down Apollo’s chest, hand stopping right at the waistband of Apollo’s pants. “Dying to touch you.”

  Dylan letting him decide what he was up for made warmth spread across his chest. Dylan was so fucking sweet. He deserved more than some frantic bathroom makeout session, more than Apollo grunting out, “yeah,” like real conversation, real thought might undo him. A better man would end this right here, not groan like he’d been shot when Dylan palmed him through the fabric.

  “Geez. Such a cliché.” Dylan’s laugh was almost like a kiss itself, friendly and reassuring. “Big, bad, hung SEAL. Surely not all of you are packing like porn stars, but damn you are, and it’s so fucking sexy.”

  “Kiss me,” Apollo commanded. He didn’t want to stop to talk about how he was hung. Didn’t want to stop and think period. Best way he knew to shut Dylan up was with his mouth, with more opiate-powerful kisses, the ones that numbed all the objections in his brain until all he wanted was to feel. Feel more of Dylan’s lips. More of his gasps and moans. Feel his grip, sure and strong on Apollo’s cock. Dylan shoved Apollo’s pants down, and the first touch of his fingers on Apollo’s bare dick had his head thrashing against the wall.

  His hand tightened on Dylan’s back even as his other hand scrambled for the zipper on Dylan’s cargo shorts. Heck. Why couldn’t he find it? A frustrated noise escaped his throat.

  “No zipper.” Dylan let go of Apollo long enough to shove his shorts down. Then his mouth returned to Apollo’s, hand finding his dick again, and all was right with the world. Apollo would give up an awful lot just to live in this moment permanently. Dylan’s dick painted a damp, insistent strip against Apollo’s upper thigh.

  “Touch me.” Dylan left a trail of kisses along Apollo’s jaw. “Please.”

  “Yeah.” Right then, that was all Apollo wanted too, his hand stroking Dylan’s thick cock. His cock wasn’t especially long, but it more than made up for it in girth and heft. A thick vein wound its way around the shaft, and Apollo traced that with his thumb as he stroked.

  More than the touch on his own cock, Dylan’s gasps of pleasure got Apollo perilously close to the edge.

  “Close,” he mumbled against Dylan’s mouth who responded with another blistering kiss and speeding up his strokes.

  “Me too. Get there with me.” Dylan rutted into Apollo’s fist, hips bumping together as they moved and moaned together.

  Dylan sucked on Apollo’s tongue at the same moment he unleashed a new twisty stroke, and that was all it took.

  “Oh God. Oh fuck. Fuck.” Apollo had never been one to master the art of a silent orgasm, and he moaned against Dylan’s mouth. After so many months of his own touch, it felt like his soul was wrenched open, like he could never stop shouting from how good it felt, how right.

  “Me too. Oh yeah. Don’t stop.” Their words jumbled and mingled as Dylan came too, hot spurts that coated Apollo’s fist.