“Got your medicine.” He chuckled. “But you gotta lick it off.”
Dirty, dirty bastard. Zane loved it.
The spunk was salty on his lips, but he looked over his shoulder as he sucked in Roach’s index finger. The green gaze was still intense, despite the recent orgasm, despite the bad cold, and Zane met it head-on as he tasted Roach’s cum, loudly eating every bit he could reach.
“I can already feel it working, doctor.”
Roach’s cock was going soft, but he still rocked his hips against Zane’s ass. “Make sure you swallow every last drop,” he rasped, opening his palm for licking.
Zane rolled to his side, gasping when Roach slid his free hand up his chest and rested it against Zane’s breastbone. He rolled his head against him, greedy to sense Roach’s breath on his sensitive ear while he lapped all the spunk as if it was sweetened cream. He would not allow any go to waste and cleaned the whole hand thoroughly, even between Roach’s fingers.
“Best medicine.”
Roach snorted. “Secret ingredient? Puppy juice.”
“You’re disgusting,” Zane said and twisted his head, straining his neck muscles for the sake of giving Roach a single peck on the lips.
Disgusting, cute, horny puppy.
“Could be worse,” Roach mused, hugging Zane close. “I could be wearing a full body dog outfit. Remember that guy? Rex?” He squeezed Zane’s pec and closed his eyes.
Zane burst out with laughter and twisted in Roach’s arms to tuck his head under his chin. “That was so awkward! I can’t understand why your friend didn’t tell us what he had planned. I already have my hands full with one pup.”
“I know exactly why. He thought that once he got us there, high on coke, we’d just go for it.” Roach arched to grab another tissue, and when he uncovered his armpit, Zane was drawn to the scent of fresh sweat as if it were an aphrodisiac. He buried his face in the hot crevice of flesh for a long sniff that made his toes tingle.
“You’re probably right. So smart,” he whispered before licking the dense hair to Roach’s dull moan.
To say that the night Roach had spontaneously topped changed their relationship would have been an understatement. It removed a great deal of stress that had accompanied Zane from the moment they’d met again and made smiling at Roach so much easier every day. Even when they were both ill and gross.
They’d both been snivelling and shivering for two days, but in the last hour, their symptoms had taken a dramatic turn for the worse, which hopefully meant they were hitting a bad point, which usually preceded things getting better. It was freaky how symmetrical their state was, and how sometimes they’d sneeze at the same time. It drove home the point that until the end of his life, Zane’s health might be tied up in Roach’s.
Karla’s method was as questionable as any other, as far as Zane was concerned, and since she was away, visiting relatives in Texas, they’d have to wait for a message from her anyway. It meant putting off the dreaded visit, séance or whatever she had in mind, at the burned down clubhouse. As much as Zane wasn’t looking forward to it, a part of him wanted to rip off that Band-Aid and have it over with.
“Of course I’m smart,” Roach said in a hoarse voice after sniffing into a tissue. He dropped it into the trash and covered them with the comforter.
Zane bit his lip, embarrassed over what he was going to say yet oddly at ease about Roach finding out. If he hadn’t judged Zane for his dyscalculia, he would not do it over this either. “I regret dropping out. I could have finished high school. They were trying to help me with my math problem. The teacher really cared, and if I stayed, maybe I wouldn’t be so hopeless at it now. But I was so sick of my hometown. At sixteen, school didn’t seem all that important. But now I wonder, what if I can’t fulfill my dream?”
Roach stroked his arm. He was such an attentive listener. When Roach watched him, Zane knew he had all of his lover’s attention. “You can always go back to high school. It took me an extra year to finish, but I knew my mom would have wanted me to. She used to say I was a smart kid.”
Zane stilled, watching him while his heart drummed against his breastbone. “When did you lose her?” he asked, glancing at the leather-encased flask Roach always carried with him.
“I was ten. Shit wasn’t good back then anyway, but everything fell apart when she died.” Roach gave a smile that looked forced. “But she was a smart lady, too. I used to help her cheat her friends at cards. It made me think of ideas for monetizing this bond we have. At least until we figure out how to get rid of it. For example, it could be a way to communicate without words if we played poker.”