“Can I touch you?” Nicolae asked, breath hot, quiet. Thought failed. Intensity grew. The act of word creation became pointless. “Y-yes, fuck yes.” A million times yes, Dustin’s mind added. How? What? Where? None of that mattered, just the yes. Nicolae shifted and rolled Dustin towards the back of the couch. Chest to chest and face to face, they found each other’s lips as fingers dipped inside Dustin’s waistband. A soft touch, barely there but enough to make Dustin want to writhe into it, ghosted over the tip of what had to be the most sensitive spot on Dustin’s body at that moment. “Nicu…” Dustin breathed. It wasn’t the sensation, because it hardly existed—it was the anticipation. The expectation. The waiting. When Nicolae reached deeper, fingernails dragging, Dustin fought back further expletives. “Don’t…” he begged.
“Don’t?” Nicolae asked, confused.
“Don’t tease,” Dustin finished.