“But right now, I—Robbie, right now, can we just—?”

“Yes,” Robbie says, divining his meaning despite the jumbled words. He tilts his head and brings their lips ghosting together again. “Yes.”

The cold is the only thing that keeps them from grappling against one another over the gear shift, or against the hood of the car. Instead, they lope up the steps to the hayloft and make it past the door before Lance grabs Robbie and pulls them together. Lance is rough and uncharacteristically graceless, the solid, lean weight of him forcing Robbie back against the door, his hard thigh prying Robbie’s legs apart; his long-fingered hands are everywhere, quickly divesting Robbie of his coat, then dropping nimbly to his fly. All the while, their mouths are pressed together, inhaling each other’s exhales until Robbie is dizzy and burning and aching, feeling Lance everywhere.

“Could you…?” Lance says, and interrupts himself to kiss Robbie again, his teeth raking Robbie’s lower lip. “Will you?” he murmurs against Robbie’s neck, and then kisses him there, too, this time with his tongue.

Robbie arches his head back and gasps, bucking into Lance’s hand as it slides up and down between Robbie’s jeans and his briefs, rubbing the cotton against his aching cock. All he’s managed to do in response to Lance’s assault is to dig both of his hands, hard, into the lean curves of Lance’s ass. He adjusts so that the next time he squeezes, his fingertips are deeper in Lance’s cleft, and they both gasp.

“Tell me what you want,” Robbie begs. “Fuck,” he moans when Lance’s nimble fingers find their way past his boxers and grip him, skin to skin. “Lance, sweetheart. Please, tell me. I wanna give you what you want.”

Lance tilts his head back, his lips swollen and parted, his eyes bright with the fever of their bodies bucking against one another, seeking each other in quick, desperate thrusts. “Would you fuck me?”

Robbie freezes, but he imagines Lance can feel his answer in the way his cock jumps in Lance’s hand. Still, he hesitates, slowly kissing Lance, gentle against his bottom lip, then tracing a path to the corner of his mouth, and he kisses him there, too.

“Yeah. God, yes.” He rests their foreheads together and his breath hitches. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Lance is the one to kiss him, this time. “I know,” he says when they part. “I’ll tell you what to do. If you—if you’re sure you want—?”

“To be inside you?” Robbie breathes. “Fuck, yes. I do.”

Lance shivers. “Then,” he says, sounding just as breathless, “I’m really hoping you have a condom and lube around here somewhere.”

Robbie chuckles. “Another thing we’re going to be borrowing from Johnny,” he admits with a wince. “Second drawer in the nightstand.”

They break apart and Lance practically sprints to the nightstand, which makes Robbie laugh. He follows just as eagerly, though. Lance opens the second drawer, fishes out a condom, and holds it aloft triumphantly. He gives the small bottle in his other hand an experimental shake near his ear, and flashes a grin that fades to something hungrier as their eyes meet.