“God, I do not want to be stoned out of my gourd again.” Apollo held up the bottle of muscle relaxers to the light, like he was looking for a baby dragon inside the bottle. “I’ve done enough stupid stuff as it is.”
And there it was, the regret Dylan had been expecting. But it still stung, all the same. Careful to keep his face neutral, he slid the sandwich onto a plate, then grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “Take the meds. Not taking them, now that would be stupid. But what just happened, that was just two guys blowing off steam. Not stupid.”
He gave Apollo the water and carried the plates to the table, not letting himself study Apollo’s face. He didn’t need to know the depth of Apollo’s despair over a spontaneous handjob.
“That’s all it was? Blowing off steam?” Apollo took a seat opposite him at the table.
“Yup.” Dylan took a bite of his sandwich, buying time to gather the right words. “We’ve been dancing around this attraction for weeks now. Something was bound to happen.”
“I don’t believe in inevitable.” Apollo punctuated his words with a large bite. “Damn, this is good. You were right—it’s the perfect late night food. But back to what I was saying—nothing is inevitable. And we can’t make the same mistake twice.”
Dylan’s chest gave an unhappy twinge. He shouldn’t be surprised or hurt that Apollo called him a mistake. Of course, Apollo was going to have some serious guilt and feels. But still, he hated that one of the single hottest moments of his life was reduced to a mistake. “Sure we can.”
Apollo frowned and his eyes narrowed. “Look. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression here. You’re a great—”
“You say ‘great kid’ and I’m going to pop you, injured or not.” Dylan sighed and set his sandwich down. “And you’re thinking in black and white where the only alternatives are never touching again and some grand romance that neither of us wants.”
“You don’t?”
Dylan forced himself to laugh. It didn’t matter what the secret, long-buried part of himself might want. Asking for anything more with Apollo was a recipe for heartache. “I’m only in town for a few more weeks. There’s no reason why we can’t keep things casual and hook up privately here and there. Get this out of our systems, then go back to being friends in the fall. I’ll be back in Oregon, and maybe you’ll be in a better position to sort out what you want for the future.” Which won’t be me. Really, what Dylan was offering was a chance for himself to get Apollo out of his system, get over his silly obsession once and for all.
Apollo shifted in his chair, then grimaced.
“Take. The. Meds.” Maybe he couldn’t convince Apollo on the value of a summer fling, but he sure wasn’t going to stand by and let him suffer.
“Okay, okay.” Apollo stood with a groan, then got the pills off the counter. He grabbed for a knife.
Dylan made a warning noise. “Take the dose the doctor prescribed. If you can’t listen to me, at least listen to the doctor.”
Setting the knife down, Apollo swallowed the pills. “I am listening to you. I’m just not sure casual-and-secret is fair to you.”
This time Dylan’s laugh was genuine. “I get to get horizontal with the hottest guy I know? Yeah, terribly unfair. And like I’ve said before, I don’t like one-night stands. I’d rather have some benefits with you than spend my weekends at the club—”
Apollo cut him off with a growl. Dylan had to smile at that. Didn’t matter what Apollo was telling himself, his jealousy was adorable. “You’re not having random hook-ups.”
“Good. Glad we’re in agreement there.” Dylan put their plates in the dishwasher. “We don’t have to overthink this. We can do whatever whenever. Doesn’t have to be complicated.”
Apollo rubbed at his temples. “If...say I agree to this insanity. Where does that leave us right now? Tonight?”
“You’re about to trip balls again before you pass out, I bet.” Dylan steered him toward the stairs. “It’s a fair trade for you getting some pain-free sleep, but no, I’m not about to get sexy with you when you’re all loopy. You’re going to lie down in my bed, and I’m going to set up my tablet for you if you can’t sleep right away.”
He stopped outside his room. He didn’t want to come right out and say it, but he didn’t want Apollo sleeping in the master bedroom that night, stewing in his complicated emotions. He got it, he really did. He wasn’t ever going to be Neal’s replacement. The most he could hope for was pleasant distraction, which honestly, Apollo desperately needed.
“Not sure I need the tablet.” Apollo yawned, and Dylan shoved him toward the bed.
“Then sleep.”
“You sure about giving me your bed?” Apollo asked even as he went ahead and stretched out on it.
“Yup.” Dylan backed up toward the door. “Sleep well. I’m going to go crash on the couch, but feel free to shout for me if you need anything.”
“Wait.” Apollo didn’t meet Dylan’s eyes, instead addressing the far wall that was lined with bookcases. “You want...we could share? Not sex. Just...”
“I got you.” Dylan saved him from his rambling and went and lay next to him. “You want me to lie here awhile? You can kick me out if it ends up making it too hard for you to sleep.”
“Yeah.” Apollo’s sigh was full of gratitude. He arranged himself like he’d been before, flat on his back with pillows under his knees. “Can’t exactly...cuddle, but I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“You only want someone to tell about how pretty the world gets when your meds kick in.” Dylan rubbed his shoulder. “And I don’t need cuddling,” he lied.
In truth, this was a weird-ass world they were navigating, a tenuous friendship with a guy determined to see him as a kid already threatened by their attraction, something a series of casual hook-ups was probably not going to improve, no matter how loudly Dylan advocated for that course of action. He was being selfish, wanting to get Apollo out of his system, even as things were bound to get more, not less, awkward.
Apollo’s breathing got deeper, and Dylan thought he might be asleep when his hand snaked out, found Dylan’s and held it tight. “This okay?”
“It’s perfect.” Dylan’s heart leaped up into his throat. Perfect. Perfect was the lies he was telling himself and Apollo—no way could he trust himself to keep it casual, no way was he coming out of this without his heart nicked, not when Apollo went and did achingly sweet things like this.
* * *
“We’re bringing over food and that’s that.” Maddox’s tone didn’t allow for objections, and Apollo was already regretting calling Maddox to cancel their prearranged brunch rather than texting.
“I’m not ill. Just threw my back out.” Apollo rubbed his head. He was lying on the floor in the living room while the girls played tea party next to him. He was feeling substantially better than he had on Friday, but not quite up to going out with friends. “Don’t go to trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble. And this way your house guest can get a break from cooking for your sorry ass too.”
“I’m not sure what he has planned,” Apollo hedged. Technically, Dylan was still asleep. Apollo had woken up with the birds and the girls. After Freaky Friday’s muscle relaxer-induced sleepover in Dylan’s room, he’d made a point of sleeping in his own bed last night, but the shitty thing was that he’d had a much better night’s sleep in Dylan’s double bed than his own Posturepedic king.
“Don’t tell me you were planning on leaving him out of brunch?” A rustling sounded like Maddox was opening cupboards and pulling out dishes. “I told you to bring him along.”
“I forgot to mention it to him,” Apollo lied. Really, he’d been putting it off, hoping to get out of socializing with his friends with Dylan around. Which sounded awful, but after hearing that Dylan had run into Ben at the Brass Rail
Okay, mainly that.
And he’d spent the past twenty-four hours wondering what in the heck he’d agreed to with Dylan. Were they going to hook up on the sly now? Did that leave open the possibility of Dylan also hooking up with Maddox or Ben? Would it be wrong to decree that off-limits?
“Well, mention to him that we’ll be over in an hour and a half or so. You got any bacon and juice there or should I stop at the store?”
“Juice yes, Bacon no. And I’ll have to wake him up—”
“I’m up.” Dylan wandered into the living room with epic bed head, curls going in every direction. “What’s happening?”
“Maddox wants to bring us breakfast,” Apollo said with resignation. He wasn’t winning this war.
“Maddox is bringing breakfast. Bye now,” Maddox said on the phone.
“Excellent. I’ll pick up before they arrive.” Dylan started straightening the couch pillows. “Munchkins, how about you guys help me clean?”
The girls, who never willingly cleaned for Apollo, clapped their hands and morphed into some sort of angry dinosaurs to eat dirty things with Dylan cheering them on. Dylan’s ability to get them using their imaginations truly was unparalleled.
“Need help dressing?” Dylan asked once he had them picking up toys. He offered Apollo a hand off the floor.
“I’ve got it.” Apollo’s skin heated with the memory of Friday night’s “help.” After he stood, he pulled his hand away fast before he could be tempted to linger. “Can you handle the girls while I shower?”
“You got it, Lieutenant.” Dylan gave him a mock salute. Lowering his voice, he leaned in. “Think their early wake-up will mean an early bedtime? Hope so.”
He didn’t give Apollo a chance to reply before winking and getting back to the cleaning. He seemed totally capable of switching between helpful roommate and eager hook-up buddy in the same conversation. Why couldn’t Apollo do the same?
That question haunted him through his shower and getting dressed. Dylan was running around getting the last-minute cleaning done, probably completely forgetting his twenty seconds of flirting. This was never going to work. Apollo would have to talk to him after—
Ding. Dong. The doorbell interrupted his internal flailing. Maddox had a tray of muffins and two shopping bags of food while Ben seemed burdened by an epic hangover with a baseball cap pulled low over his unshaven face. They had Pike in tow as Zack had shipped out that week, and Maddox seemed to have made keeping Pike busy his latest mission.
“I didn’t have a chance to do much, but I made a fast frittata. Hope it came out decent.” Pike held out a dish. The dark circles under his eyes and tired tone to his usual upbeat voice said that he hadn’t been sleeping well.
“I’m sure it’s great.” Dylan went into a surprisingly efficient host mode, taking the food and leading people to the kitchen.
“Lead me to the pans!” Maddox was full of good cheer. That made one of them. “I brought enough food to feed a whole team. Let’s do the bacon in the oven in a big batch.”
“Here, let me get you the sheet pans.” Apollo came around the island only to be shoved back by Dylan.
“Go sit. You don’t need to do any unnecessary bending.” Dylan gestured at the table. “Go keep Ben company. I’ll help Maddox cook.”
“Yeah. Keep me company,” Ben drawled from beneath his cap.
“I suppose we’re lucky you didn’t bring last night’s trick to breakfast,” Apollo said in a low voice as he took the chair next to Ben. “You need me to make you my old morning-after cure?”
“Nah. Although, I’m thinking you could use one.” Matching Apollo’s near-whisper, Ben’s tone was far more teasing than his hungover countenance.
“What do you mean? I’m weaning myself off the pain pills and muscle relaxers—”
“Not talking about that. I meant I’m thinking someone else got lucky last night besides me.”
“I’m thinking the Brass Rail pickled your last remaining brain cells,” Apollo said firmly.
“Nope. I’ve still got eyes. Have you decided which method of death you want Dustin to use when he gets a whiff of—”
“Sssh.” Apollo made a warning noise. Across the room, the other three were busy assembling food and didn’t seem to be paying him and Ben any attention, but Apollo still felt like they were shouting in a church. “There’s nothing going on. Nothing.”
“Ha. Maybe there’s not yet, but you guys are like a live M67—just waiting to go boom. And the shrapnel’s going to take out someone’s eye.”
“He’s a great kid—” Apollo didn’t sound particularly convincing, even to his own ears, and Ben interrupted him with a snort.
“Then you won’t mind if I invite him—”
“Watch it.”
“Yeah. Nothing.” Ben’s laugh sliced like a knife. “You keep telling yourself that. And I was going to say, my soccer team’s playing a charity exhibition game next week and we’re down a striker. Thought I’d see if Dylan wanted to join us, jealous beast.”
“You can ask him,” Apollo said, not able to keep back the grudging tone.
“Gee, thanks.” Ben shook his head. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have fun. God knows that if anyone needs fun, it’s you. But don’t be stupid. Just—”
“Food!” Maddox called from the kitchen, gesturing at the buffet they’d laid out on the island. “And I even made a Bloody Mary mix for the walking dead over there.”
“Bless you.” Ben gave Apollo a warning look as he pushed up from the table.
“Apollo? Need me to make you a plate?” Dylan asked.
Ben gave a knowing smirk as he passed Apollo. “Don’t be stupid,” he repeated in a low growl, holding out a hand.
“I’ve got it.” Ignoring the hand as well as his protesting back muscles, Apollo helped his own damn self up.
Don’t be stupid. That warning turned his food to mortar dust, made him do nothing more than grit his teeth when Ben convinced Dylan to help out his team. Later, he was careful to avoid Dylan after everyone left, taking the girls for a long swim in the backyard. Dylan helped matters by disappearing with his work friends for a few hours in the afternoon. But sure enough after their early wakeup and long time in the pool, the girls almost fell asleep in their dinner.
They were both sound asleep before Apollo finished the story. He crept from the room, shutting their door carefully. Don’t be stupid. He needed an early night too, needed to conserve his strength if he was going to try for work this week. Even as he lectured himself, his footsteps slowed as he made his way down the hall, pausing right by Dylan’s room.
The door was open—something new and an invitation even Apollo’s rusty brain couldn’t miss. Inside Dylan lay shirtless on the bed, watching something on his tablet.
Walk on by, Apollo ordered his feet, which didn’t listen. Once was madness, but a repeat would be hard to pass off as an accident. We could just watch a show, Apollo tried bargaining with himself even as he knew that if he crossed that threshold, nothing was going to be the same again. Don’t be stupid.
Too late. Dylan looked up from his show, pulled out his earbuds and gave him a slow smile. Reason fled in the face of that warmth. Give me stupid. Might be to his doom, but his feet only knew one direction. He stepped forward.
Chapter Twelve
Apollo had led countless missions into hostile territory, survived firefights, and negotiated his way out of more than one seemingly no-win scenario. And never once had his pulse thrummed like it did when he stepped into Dylan’s doorway.
“You busy?”
“You know I’m not.” Dylan smiled at him, but Apollo stayed rooted right inside the room, unable to return the smile. Dylan got off the bed and closed the door. “Should I lock it?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” His voice, usually something he could rely on without fail, was little more than a whisper. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Luckily for both of us, I’ve got some ideas.” Dylan pressed Apollo back against the door, ghosting his lips across Apollo’s. Simply from that small contact, heat licked at Apollo’s nerve endings, made his senses crackle. Seemingly on their own, his arms pulled Dylan closer, until the kiss deepened, Dylan’s tongue fucking its way into Apollo’s mouth with an insistent rhythm.
“Yeah?” Apollo’s voice was deeper now, not so unsteady. His brain might still be a muddled mess, but his body had definite opinions about why it was in Dylan’s embrace.
“Oh yeah.” Dylan licked his way to Apollo’s ear then sucked the earlobe into his mouth.
“Fuck. I like your ideas.” Apollo gasped.
“You’re going to love this one.” Dylan gave him a grin full of wicked promise before sinking to his knees. He undid Apollo’s belt with the smooth, efficient movements of a man who knew exactly what his target was. He withdrew Apollo’s cock, and somehow he already knew exactly how Apollo liked to be jacked—tight on the shaft, looser on the head, fingers grazing the sensitive underside.
Another smile and then Dylan dipped his head, swallowing Apollo down until his lips met his fist. Fuck. Nothing in years had felt as good as the tight, wet heat of Dylan’s mouth.
“Hell. My knees may not be up to you,” he groaned as he pushed his shoulders back into the door to keep himself upright.
“I’ll take that compliment.” Dylan laughed and shoved Apollo, pants half-down and all, until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Apollo kicked his pants and boxers the rest of the way off. Not missing a beat, Dylan returned to his knees in front of Apollo.
Apollo had to laugh at how he’d gotten all tangled up in his clothes and at how damn eager Dylan was. The sound felt a bit unfamiliar to his ears. Sex in his experience was usually far more serious than silly, but somehow everything with Dylan was infused with a certain...levity he’d never had before. He leaned back slightly so he could watch Dylan lick his way down his shaft. He was damn good at coordinating the hot strokes of his mouth with the firm grip of his hand on the base of Apollo’s shaft.
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