“You feel so amazing,” Robbie pants. “I can’t last much longer.”

Lance starts jerking himself, the movement making his muscles seem to glow as they move under a layer of glistening sweat. “You’re—perfect. I’m close, too, Robbie,” he gasps. “Robbie, please.”

Robbie doesn’t know what Lance is begging for, but he drags Lance up off the bed so they’re both kneeling, Lance’s back flush to Robbie’s chest, Robbie still deep in Lance’s body. Lance moans, and Robbie can’t help thrusting again, shallower and harder than before. Lance twists his head toward Robbie’s and gasps, then whimpers against Robbie’s mouth when Robbie plays with his nipples, pinching and pulling.

“Gonna—fuck—” Lance starts jerking his cock again, so fast that his arm feels like it’s vibrating. Robbie bites his shoulder as Lance convulses.

Robbie lets go, feeling like more than just his cum is spilling into Lance; his hips jerk against Lance’s ass, stunned by the force of his release. For a half-moment, Robbie thinks he’s lost the battle much too soon, but then, Lance cries out and splashes his stomach and Robbie’s forearms as he comes, too. They rock against each other, gasping for breath while they both shudder through the long moments of aftershock.

When Robbie thinks he can’t stay upright another moment without collapsing, he pulls out carefully, helping ease Lance’s sweaty, perfect, limp body down onto the bed on his side. He leans in and kisses him; Lance’s mouth moves under his, curving into a smile.

The condom is incredibly uncomfortable, so Robbie rolls over and disposes of it as quickly as he can, then slides back into place behind Lance, their bodies fitting together in a gentler reprisal of what they were doing minutes ago.

Robbie touches a bite mark on Lance’s shoulder and frowns. “Sorry.”

“Mmm. Don’t be.”

He strokes Lance’s thigh. “Thank you.”

Lance huffs a quiet laugh. “For what?”

Robbie pushes his face into Lance’s curls. “Letting me.”

“Letting you, what?” Lance sounds incredulous, and a little amused. “Fuck me?”

“No!” Robbie pushes himself up on his elbow and frowns down at Lance, who turns his head so their eyes can meet. Robbie swallows, all his vehemence leaving him. He touches Lance’s bottom lip. “For letting me take care of you.” He trails his thumb down to the curve of Lance’s chin and brushes the ridge of bone, following its elegant curve to his jaw. Lance’s lakewater eyes are deep enough for Robbie to drown in, and he’ll go happily. “And for taking care of me, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lance

There are two places to get a room in Dell. One is the Midnight Motel, a half-circle of shabby but painstakingly well-kept one-room units; it was built in the fifties with a moon-and-stars theme and an excellent, if slightly chaotic, rose garden where there used to be a small swimming pool in the middle of the parking lot.

The other place to pass a night is the Holiday Inn, a place just as large, rectangular, and sanitized as most of its chain. It sits out by the highway, ringed in anemic-looking juvenile trees.