Shaw put the pizza on the coffee table and kicked off his flip flops. Then he climbed on top of North, grabbing his wrists. North twisted—his back wasn’t hurting quite as much anymore—bucking with his hips, trying to use his mass. Shaw had the advantage with position and leverage, and sweat bloomed across North’s chest as he struggled. A manic grin split his cheeks. Shaw was giggling, bearing down with all his weight, forcing North’s hands up above his head. North had to fight to keep a laugh from breaking out; he couldn’t help the smile, that was a lost cause, but he could still keep from laughing. And slowly, inch by inch, he let Shaw win.

Then they were pressed together, Shaw’s weight draped over North, the spicy musk of his hair filling North’s nose.

“Got you,” Shaw said, his composure threatening to dissolve into laughter again.

“You did.”

“Now what?” Shaw said. “I can’t just let you go. You said some really naughty things.”

North’s eyebrows shot up. “Naughty?”

“Very naughty.”

“I guess you’d better punish me, then.”

“Probably.” Shaw nuzzled aside North’s collar and began sucking on his neck. A prickle of arousal ran through North, and then a wildfire swept after it. Some of it was the dull ache of the bruise Shaw was leaving, but some of it was . . . this side of Shaw. This wildness.

North heard himself groan before he’d even realized the sound was coming.

“You like that?” Shaw whispered. “You like having that on your neck so everybody knows you belong to me?”

“Fuck, Shaw.”

Instead of words, though, Shaw responded with his mouth lower on North’s neck, the hard sucking making North grunt again. He wanted to grab Shaw, flip him over, get down to it, but he knew that wasn’t part of the game. The game, right then, was to keep his hands above his head where Shaw had put them and to pretend that he still worked construction. But it was getting harder and harder to do both those things.

The throb in North’s neck told him he’d be wearing the hickeys for a few days, and when Shaw pulled back, a ripple ran up from North’s belly to his sternum, arousal mixed with uncertainty.

“You do,” Shaw said. “You like the idea of being out there on the street, catcalling with your buddies, and having my marks all over you.”

“Jesus,” North whispered.

“Maybe they’d even ask you about them. And what would you say to all those guys, all of them looking at you, waiting for an answer?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”