Page 34 of Sigh of Relief

“Me too, and yes. Fuck yes.”

Elton pinched a nipple and Archer groaned, thrusting into the grip around his cock, seeing everything Elton described behind his closed eyes and wanting it, wanting all of him, desperately. “I need you.”

Elton rocked into him, harder and faster. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the cabin.”

Archer racked his lust-drenched brain for hidden spaces in this house, someplace private like Elton wanted for their first time. He’d just landed on the laundry room when a shattering glass downstairs gave him a better idea.

Brought him back to that night last fall when a future Archer had thought a fantasy had suddenly come to life after fifteen years. “I know where we can go.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

They crashed into the distillery, a tangle of lips and limbs.

“This private enough?” Archer asked, as Elton pressed him against the metal rail that encircled the glassed-in distilling equipment. He arched his neck for more kisses and protested when Elton took his lips away, the opposite direction from where Archer wanted them.

All was forgiven, though, when Elton slid his fingers under either side of his V-neck, his big hands warm and gently possessive against his skin. “You look amazing tonight.”

“I was manifesting a certain tall, handsome, well-suited man.” He flattened his palms on Elton’s broad chest, the cotton of his dress shirt sinfully soft, the navy blue complementing his dark brown skin. “You also look amazing.” Especially in here, with the distillery’s after-hours lighting reflecting off the tin and copper stills behind them, casting Elton in shadows and warmth.

Elton tucked a hand under one of his and lifted it to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

“I planned this party for you too,” Archer admitted. “To give you a safe space, if you were ready.”

Closing the scant distance between them, Elton rested his forehead on Archer’s, his breath and words tickling Archer’s lips. “Your insides are not as prickly as your outsides.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

Elton’s lips curved against his. “Can I tie you up right here?”

“I would love that, but we are old and this concrete floor is hard.” He slipped out from between the rail and Elton and grabbed him by the hand. “Come with me.” Around the corner into the tasting room that was nearly complete. “Same view,” he said, gesturing to the interior plate glass windows that provided a view of the stills, then tapped the toe of his shoe against the carpet under their feet. “Softer floor.”

Laughing, Elton twined his arms back around him. “Fucking my boyfriend in a tasting room. Very on brand for my lot.” Archer raised a brow; the more he learned about Elton’s friends, the more he understood why they’d gravitated toward Archer’s own band of merry troublemakers. “Stories for another time,” Elton said. “After we make our own.” He slid his hands lower, fingers diving beneath the waistband of Archer’s slacks and splaying over the tops of his ass cheeks. Halting as his eyes widened. “Is this a one-piece?”

Archer nipped the underside of his jaw. “I wanted you to have to peel it off me.”

A low, sexy growl rumbled from Elton’s chest. “Drop your pants.”

Stepping back, Archer slowly lowered his pants and kicked off his shoes, never taking his eyes off Elton, reading his every reaction—his widening pupils, his heaving chest, his cock tenting the front of his slacks. “I thought you were going to tie me up and ride me.”

Elton circled behind him and placed his hands on the fabric at Archer’s shoulders. “I’m going to enjoy peeling you out of this first.” But instead of doing that, he reached around to Archer’s front and glided his fingers down his torso to the bottom of the V just below his belly button. He splayed one hand there, using it to haul him back against his body, then he shoved the other under the material, palming his cock. “Color?”

“Green,” Archer groaned, thrusting into Elton’s hold. “Fuck yes.”

Elton curled his fingers around his cock. “Can’t wait to get this inside me.” He stroked him hard and rough, the friction of his hand along his length, the material against his tip, driving Archer wild.

But not so out of his mind that he didn’t register Elton’s words. He put them together with the picture Elton had painted earlier. Wanted to be sure they were seeing the same thing. “You’ve been fucked⁠—”

“Yes.” Elton rutted against him, hips and hand moving faster. “And I’ve been wearing a plug the entire night.”

Archer’s knees went weak—the mere thought, the delightful surprise, throwing him for a loop. Was this what life with Elton would be like? Constantly being kept on his toes by all his hidden layers. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend the second half of his existence. He leaned back against him, overwhelmed, overjoyed, and overstimulated. “I need you.”

Now, tomorrow, forever.

Elton kissed a path up his neck, behind his ear, and around to his cheek. “Do you have another of these bodysuits?”

“I do. It’s—” He didn’t get to finish telling Elton the other one was red, his words dying on his tongue when Elton grabbed his top by the collar and ripped it in two, the warmth of Elton’s body suddenly blanketing his bare back.

“Perfect for tying you up.”