I swallow and slap his upper arm. “Okay, well, let’s get on. I need to kick your butt, remember?”

He lowers closer, caging me with his arms, and shifts to give me more pressure, watching my reaction as his firmness meets mine. My hips jerk up in response, and that moan escapes my throat.

“Flanagan.”

I grip his biceps with every intention to push him off but only dig my fingers deeper, squirming to find friction. My hard cock meets his, and without thought, I push into it.

A tremor runs the length of his body. “Michael.” The name leaves his mouth as a whisper. He searches my face, diamond fire lighting his eyes. “What is it you want? Hmm?”

Digging my nails into skin, I rock my hips against him. Pleasure shoots inwards with every thrust. A blinding, unmet hunger I’ve had for this muscled giant since we met rises like a geyser. The raging need destroys all thought.

“Fuck’s sake, Flanagan. You. I want you.” I want him naked and sweaty and panting. Screw the fact that he’s a man. The fact that it’s the Flame driving this electric need. I just want him.

He huffs and gives me a wry smile. “You already have me, Michael. You’ve had me since the moment I met you. Since ‘Dude, I’m not into men.’”

I grin at the memory. “I’m not!”

He leans down to my ear. “You’re into me,” he says, pushing deeper against the hard evidence.

A bolt of wild need drives me to thrust back. I am into him. So into him I can’t think straight.

He sweeps his lips across mine, sharing moisture, his beard prickling my skin. “Tell me what you need.” In this position, his baritone vibrates my organs.

“Skin. I need skin.”

His fingers deftly undo the buttons of my suede trousers, and I sigh with relief when he peels them open to free my straining cock. He tugs them down and all the way off and throws them aside with my boots. Then he helps yank my shirt off.

I lie on the wooden floor naked and desperate, hips still seeking friction. A rumbling growl leaves Flanagan’s throat when I take hold of my exposed shaft and pump a few strokes, unable to do otherwise. Need leaks from the slit and pools onto my stomach.

“Your trousers, Flanagan. Get those fuckers off.”

He makes quick work of his fly and shoves the suede down his thighs. His giant fence pole of a cock bounces out and juts proudly. I stare at the thick, tall, rock-hard beast and lick my lips. I need to taste that. I want to feel its size filling my mouth.

Shit. Shouldn’t these thoughts be freaking me out?