WHEN THEY PULLED UP in front of North’s Southampton duplex, Shaw had one thing in mind.
“Huh?” North said. And then he grunted and spread his legs. “Oh.”
The borrowed Ford rumbled quietly beneath them. The inside of the car smelled like the air freshener—shaped like a cluster of cherries, although smelling more like Laffy Taffy than anything else Shaw could name—and like the American Crew gel North still wore in his textured thatch of blond hair. He was hardening rapidly under Shaw’s touch, and he leaned back in the seat, eyes hooded as he watched Shaw impassively. Normally his eyes were a remarkably light blue, the predawn color of fresh snowfall, or like light caught on the rim of a sheet of ice. Tonight, in the darkened interior of the Ford, with his pupils blown wide, they might as well have been black.
He made a sound in his throat and tried to spread his legs farther. His knee thumped the door panel.
“This is when you invite your beautiful, sexually prodigious, unbelievably generous boyfriend inside,” Shaw whispered, his fingers tracing the length of North’s dick through the denim.
North made another of those noises, but he was still relaxed against the seat. With one hand, barely more than a flick of his fingers, he beckoned Shaw closer.
Grinning, Shaw leaned over the center console. North’s movement was minimal, only a few inches, making Shaw come to him. He moved toward North’s mouth for a kiss.
At the last moment, though, North veered, his mouth coming to Shaw’s ear, and at a normal volume he said, “What about Davey?”
“Ow!” Shaw reared back so fast that he hit the car’s headliner. “North, what the hell?”
“I just remembered your crazy, abusive, controlling boyfriend Davey. I just wanted to make sure he was ok with us messing around.”
“You are really taking that the wrong way.”
North just watched him through hooded eyes. His erection was still visible through the jeans.
“I just took a few details and, you know, made something else up.”
“Uh huh.”
“You and Davey have absolutely nothing in common.”
“Uh huh.”
“He was a total figment of my imagination.”
“Uh huh.” North reached down, pretending to adjust himself, although his hand lingered long enough to suggest something else. “Except those details that you took from real life.”
“North, come on!”
“Night, Shaw.”
“Hey, hold on.” Shaw caught his wrist, drawing North’s hand to the bulge in his own jeans. He let out a satisfied noise and rutted softly against North’s palm. “It’s been almost a week,” Shaw whispered. “And last time, we didn’t even get to do a sleepover.”
“We’re not ten, Shaw.” But his fingers curled possessively, rubbing slow and hard against Shaw’s dick.
Shaw made another of those appreciative noises; he didn’t miss the flush speckling North’s throat. Leaning over the console again, he stroked North and found him, if anything, even harder than before. “Please? I want you to fuck me.”
The rumble in North’s throat was almost a growl. “Is that what you need, baby?”
Shaw nodded.
“Say it,” North ordered.
“I need it. I need you to fuck me.”
North’s grin was sharp and sudden. “Then ask Davey.”
“North!”
North’s grin got bigger.
Shaw slapped his erection.
“Holy Christ, Shaw!” North folded, covering himself. “What the fuck?”
“You’re being a brat.”
“Did you just fucking spank my cock? And not even in the fun way, I might add?”
“Quit being so mouthy,” Shaw said, “and take me inside and fuck me.”
“You’re a fucking monster.”
Shaw turned off the car and withdrew the keys from the ignition. “Now, North.”
North grumbled the whole way to the front door. He let them inside, and the puppy—North’s puppy—was there, waiting for them. He immediately started yipping, dancing around their heels, clawing at North’s legs.
“Hello,” North cooed. “Gotta take care of him first.”
“He’s a fucking cockblock,” Shaw called after him. “This is worse than having children. Children you can just lock in their rooms when daddy needs some dick.”
North pointed at the ceiling and glanced back long enough to reply softly, “Keep shouting; I’m sure Mr. Winns is interested in what daddy needs.”
Face hot, Shaw locked the door behind him and headed into North’s bedroom. He left the sherpa cloak on a chair, kicked off the engineer boots, and climbed onto the bed. A few minutes later, North was there too, toeing off his Redwings, rucking up the sweatshirt he’d worn. He peeled it off, exposing the dense slabs of muscle, the old scar on his side, his chest and belly covered by thick blond fur. He crawled between Shaw’s legs, ran his hands up Shaw’s thighs, and kissed him. Then he pulled back, palming Shaw through his jeans, a smirk plastered on his face.
“Why are you being so mean to me tonight?”
“Keep whining,” North said, eyebrows shooting up, “and you’re going to find out how mean I can be.”
Huffing a breath, Shaw reached for North’s waistband. He unbuttoned the jeans, worked the fly down, and pulled out North’s dick. North shivered and let out a breath. Shaw stroked him slowly, watching North’s eyes glaze.
Then Shaw’s gut twisted.
North was tugging on Shaw’s shirt, trying to turn him out of it, his fingers warm and rough.
“Just a second,” Shaw said.
“What?”
“Just a second. I’ve got to, um, clean up first.”
North studied him, kissed him, and fell onto his side. Swatting Shaw’s thigh, he said, “Hurry, mister. Now who’s being mean?”
Shaw did what he needed to do. Perched on the toilet, he suddenly felt hyperaware that none of the guys in the books he liked ever had to deal with this situation. When he’d finished, he opened the door and called to North, “Just gonna take a quick shower.” He stepped under the hot water, found the bar of hemp-milk soap he’d stashed so that he didn’t have to use the chemical-laden Irish Springs stuff that North bought in bulk, and cleaned himself up. His hair looked like a cumulus cloud after he toweled it, but North seemed to like his hair more the longer and wilder it got, so he left it the way it was and padded into the bedroom naked.
North was asleep on the bed, jeans still around his thighs, the puppy curled up in the crook of one arm. He yapped at Shaw once.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Shaw muttered as he walked around to North’s side of the bed. “You got exactly what you wanted.”
“Shaw?” North mumbled.
“Let’s get you out of these,” Shaw said, helping North free of the jeans.
“Just give me five minutes. Gonna fuck you…” He made a sleepy noise. “…can’t walk.”
Sliding under the covers, Shaw found North’s hand and squeezed it. Then he kissed him. By the time he was reaching to turn off the lamp, North was asleep again. And in the morning, when Shaw woke, North had already left for work.