There was a burning under Renzo’s skin and a roaring in his ears. He heard nothing after “Daddy”. Nothing.

Oh, but he understood the look in Low’s eyes. He understood the tight grasp Low had on his nape. For some reason he was on his knees, taken down by this man whose touch only brought fire. An arsonist who held Renzo immobile simply with a gaze.

Weakness?

Maybe. But Renzo luxuriated in it. He’d thought with Low he’d have to be Renzo Vega, man in charge, all the time. But turns out he could also be Renzo Vega, man in desperate need of touch, of light, of this.

Knees to the floor.

Scorching touch leaving his nape to catch his chin, tilting his face upward. He watched Low through lashes that didn’t seem to want to lift higher than half-mast. The languid flames made it hard to focus, melting him and slowing his movements.

He sank his fingers into Low’s hip. Always. He needed Low within his reach always.

“You promised to bust it down.” Low’s voice was a rockslide along Renzo’s spine, and he found himself writhing on his knees, especially when Low’s thumb stroked Renzo’s bottom lip.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

He trembled.

Then the thumb pushed into his mouth.

Renzo sucked.

Low used his free hand to slide his zipper down.

Jesus. Fucking—

Renzo moaned.

“And I’m just here—” Low continued speaking as if he wasn’t throat-fucking Renzo with his thumb. As if he wasn’t holding his hard cock in his grip—fat, cut, pre-cum beading at the tip. “Wondering if you swallow.”

As if he didn’t know. As if Renzo hadn’t gulped his fucking cum the other night like it was his medicine. “Every drop.” He’d never been thirstier. How he managed words, he didn’t even fucking know. But he made himself hold Low’s lust-filled gaze when all he wanted was to eye-fuck the cock that was now gliding over his bottom lip. He flicked his tongue out, but Low pulled back with a harsh chuckle. Shit. And fuck! “Low.”

Low didn’t acknowledge him. He stroked himself over Renzo’s lower lip then surged upward, wet crown bumping Renzo’s nose. He inhaled Low’s natural musk mixed with slick heat and the hard promise of what was to come. Pressed against his lips, Low was hot, hard, and throbbing.

Renzo parted his lips and slid it along the length.

Low shuddered.

So naturally Renzo did it again, and when Low moved himself downward, Renzo sucked him inside.

“Mudda. Ass.”

The curse broke over him as Renzo slammed his eyes shut on a shiver. Low’s taste burst across his taste buds, flooding his mouth with saliva. He’d had his lips wrapped around too many cocks to count, sometimes for pleasure, most of the time for worse. He forgot about all of them.

Low became his first. The grip on Renzo’s nape and the surge of his hips as he drove into Renzo’s mouth ensured Low would be the only. Renzo rode him, hands on Low’s, urging him forward, urging him deeper as he took the thrusts down his throat.

Grunting.

Low moaning for him. “Daddy. Fuck.”

The hoarseness in his voice only fueled Renzo’s efforts and he dipped his head. Taking Low deeper. How could he not? How could he not drool, bobbing up and down on a cock like that throbbing for him?

He stroked Low with one hand, holding him steady, keeping him where he wanted as he tongued his crown and the slit there before traveling down. Inch by inch, he worshipped the man towering above him. Knees already aching. His own body pulsing.

So close to combusting. He yanked on his pants with one hand, unzipping himself, fisting his shaft.

Stroking.

Sucking.

“Renzo. God.” All those shivers, Low gave them to him. Both hands bunched in Renzo’s hair, forcing him on that cock, tunneling in and out. “Your mouth—so good.”

He’d had practice. So many years of practice. Not one of those years mattered in this moment, in this position. He wanted Low. Wanted to possess him. Claim him. He pulled off, releasing Low with great reluctance then grasping his ass to steady him when he swayed.

“Renzo.”

“I’m not done.” He answered the question in Low’s eyes by pointing behind him to the bar. “Get rid of your clothes then climb up there. Hands and knees, Low. I need you on my face.”

He’d never seen anyone get naked as fast as Low did. Renzo remained on his knees as Low did as instructed, using the stool around the L-shaped bar to climb up before getting into a crouch. Hands white-knuckling the edge. Knees spread apart. Ass tipped upward, waiting for Renzo who just sat back on his hunches, aching cock in his fist and watched.

The super-bright lights in the place showed him every inch of Low, and the other man never looked as good as he did then. Gorgeous. Muscles rippling as he stroked himself, pre-cum dripping onto the bar. Glancing back over his shoulder with the anticipatory fire in his eyes.

Waiting.

Renzo went to him. Taking his time when he fucking wanted to leap at Low. When he reached him, Renzo didn’t touch him right away. He just stood behind him, letting Low’s heat warm him, allowing the scent of his want and his sex to fill his nostrils and make his head swim.

Watching the tiny shudders tighten his shoulders and make his ass flex.

Renzo touched him finally. Starting at his nape, sliding downward and Low moved for him, undulating, head dropping lower with every inch of his spine Renzo descended. By the time he reached the base of his spine Low’s forehead was pressed to the bar and his ass was skyward.

So inviting.

Renzo licked his lips.

“Daddy.”

Fucking torture. That honorific. Renzo knew torture. He’d never loved it until now. Never drooled for the torture before. Never courted it, either. Lots of things he hadn’t done until Low, and at forty-six, Renzo could have sworn to anyone that he’d lived. Low was showing him he hadn’t, not truly.

“Daddy, please.”

Low’s accent made him throb, too.

Bending forward, Renzo nipped him on the underside of his left butt cheek.

Low gasped.

“Open it up for Daddy,” Renzo rasped. “Let Daddy put his face in it.”

Low released the edge of the bar and pulled his cheeks apart, opening that dark hole for him. Renzo showed his gratitude by diving face-first in all that gushy goodness.

“Fuck!” Low lurched forward, dropping onto his stomach.

Renzo snarled, the sound muffled by the ass on his tongue. He pulled those cheeks apart as Low writhed and swore under him, licking, teasing. Low quivered, his hole clenching when Renzo swirled his tongue around the rim.

“Oh God. Oh Fuck!”

“Lift it up,” Renzo barked. “Lift that ass for me, Low.”

Low did, thighs trembling the entire time as Renzo ate, laving him, stabbing deep, getting him nice and wet before pushing a finger in.

Jesus.

Fucking.

H.

Fingers and tongue, every time he licked Low swore. Every thrust of his finger into that fucking tight and hot passage, Low clenched and called his name. But he remained on his knees, pushing back on Renzo’s tongue, riding his face and his fingers when Renzo doubled them, fucking himself and fucking Renzo in the process.

He was going to come. One tongue and two fingers deep inside the tightest ass he’d ever finger-banged. With Low’s taste on his tongue, his cries in his ears, and his scent in his nostrils. Renzo was gonna come on himself. Dick hanging out of his pants, hands too busy opening Low wider to even touch his own erection.

He was going to come.

And he didn’t even care.

Side to side. Up and down. Around. He licked Low. Fingers pushing in and out, twisting then repeating. He couldn’t get enough. Hungry. Thirsty. He was everything, and Low—Goddamn, Low squatting on him, stroking his cock, riding his tongue while simultaneously slamming down on his fingers.

Renzo ate him up, saliva everywhere. Sloppy. No subtlety. Just instinct. Just hunger and the mad head rush to sate it. No time to breathe. It was all about pulling Low backward on his tongue, pressing on his spot and opening his mouth wider when Low wailed and stiffened.

God.

God.

He barely held on as Low came apart, bucking, damn near suffocating him. But Renzo was going nowhere, so he gripped tighter, face buried between those fucking ass cheeks. Fingers trapped inside his clenching ass. Those tremors, they leapt from Low to him, and suddenly he was the one blowing up.

Convulsing.

His cries muffled by Low’s body.

Hot cum dripping from the cock hanging out of his pants onto his shoes.

Low sagged onto the bar and Renzo went with him. With no strength left, he couldn’t even lift his head, so they remained in the original position. Renzo’s face still nestled between Low’s cheeks, nose pressed to his crack.

Low kept twitching and somehow, Renzo found enough strength—fuck yeah—to lick him. But in a soothing way. A nice leisurely drag of his tongue down Low’s crack to flick at his hole.

Low’s elbows nagged atop the bar. “Shit, Renzo. I can’t—” He gasped. “Let me breathe. I can’t catch my breath.” But his ass tipped up though, and those mewls vibrating in his throat turned Renzo on even more.

“I’d keep you here,” Renzo said against his skin. “If Dax wasn’t on his way back, I’d keep you here, let you make my face your chair. So I can lick it until you lose it, get me drowning in all that shit as you drip all over me.”

Low dipped his head and swore before glancing over his shoulder. His eyes were wild and bright, lips wet and parted as he panted. “You talk a big game,” he sounded more than a little breathless.

Renzo lifted his head, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he held Low’s gaze. “You were the one just screaming and calling me God, so I think we both know I can more than back it up.” He grinned.

Low shook his head slowly, but he returned that smile. Renzo made himself step away and offered Low a hand to help him down off the bar. When he made to step away, Renzo gathered him close, wrapping his arms around Low, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw.

Inhaling deeply, taking the scent of them into his lungs. Low hugged him back, naked brown skin pressed tight to Renzo who remained fully clothed. Except for the cock handing out of his zipper situation.

“Hey.” Low pulled back slightly and smoothed a finger over Renzo’s lips. “Come home with me?” When he made as if to drop his hand, Renzo caught it and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

“Yes.”

Low smiled. Open and free, eyes devoid of the heaviness they carried when he’d first shown up earlier, and Renzo wanted to keep him like that

Smiling.

* * *

He couldn’t feel his legs. And his heart was desperately trying to jump out of his chest. But Low felt…calm, too. Mellow.

Could be the orgasm that slammed through him like a fucking runaway train and almost snapped his spine. Or it could be the man beside him in the back of the SUV as they headed back to Low’s place. Shoulder to shoulder they sat, with Dax as their silent driver who’d simply lifted an eyebrow when he’d walked back into the club to find them lounging at the bar, Renzo’s arms around Low who had his head on his chest.

Fingers crept down Low’s left arm and tugged on his. He spread them, keeping his head back, eyes closed. Those warm fingers wrapped around his, snug and warm. He squeezed Renzo briefly.

But that was all the words necessary.

Renzo lifted their hands, brought them to his lips.

His touch, it was everything.

Fuck.

It was a wrap, wasn’t it?

“We’re here.”

He jumped at Dax’s voice and blinked, turning to stare out the window. Damn. They were in front his house and he hadn’t even noticed. He released Renzo’s hand and grasped the door handle, but Dax stopped him.

“Wait.” He jerked a narrowed gaze at Renzo next. “You, too.” He hopped out and went around the car, head swiveling this way and that, before opening the door for Low.

“Is all that necessary?”

“Yes.” Both men answered as one.

“Dax takes his job very seriously,” Renzo whispered.

Low rolled his eyes, but he truthfully he hadn’t forgotten that Renzo had gotten shot up inside his own damn club. So he waited dutifully for Dax to go around and open the door for Renzo and escort him to Low’s side. Renzo took Low’s hand again, and they walked up to Low’s house together. When Low unlocked the door, they all three entered.

One by one.

Dax first, who flipped on all the lights as he went through the house.

“He staying or wha?” Low closed the door behind them.

Renzo smile. “Dax is leaving.”

“Why are you smiling?” Not that he minded that smile. He felt as if that gesture belonged to him now.

“Your accent gets me hard.”

“Jeez.” He wasn’t about to admit that Renzo’s admission got him hard.

Dax nodded to Renzo. “I’m gone.” He disappeared out the door without a word.

Then it was Low and Renzo, all alone in Low’s home. He stood in the archway leading from the living room to the dining room, one foot propped against the wall, eyes on Renzo who mimicked the stance opposite Low.

Low smiled at him. It was like he couldn’t stop his face from doing that whenever their eyes met.

“I want to lay where you lay,” Renzo said. “With you in my arms.”

“Yes.” He might have hissed that out.

Renzo’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t move. He still looked so put together, nothing like the man who’d been on his knees for Low not even an hour ago. Not like a man who’d had his face in Low’s ass and his tongue inside him. He hadn’t bothered putting back on the suit jacket, and the first three buttons on his shirt were undone, sleeves rolled up to expose his hairy, muscular arms.

“How many people get to see you like I saw you tonight?’ he asked. He tried to imagine Renzo on his knees, submitting like he did, for someone else, but Low couldn’t.

“None.”

He narrowed his eyes. “We’re not starting this off with a lie.”

Renzo’s mouth twitched. “It’s been more than ten years since I’ve been on my knees for anyone.”

Low blinked at him slowly. “But you went there for me.”

“I’ll go even further for you.” Renzo jerked his chin. “Come.”

One step and Low was in his arms. Damn. Renzo wrapped around him and it was heaven. If heaven existed, it resided here, in the arms of Renzo Vega. He sighed into Renzo’s neck, eyes closed, the back of Renzo’s shirt bunched in his fists.

“Let me take you to bed.”

Delivered in a voice like that, drenched in danger and sin, spoken by a man like that, Low could never say no. As if he wanted to say no. “Please.”

Hand in hand they went upstairs, into his bedroom, hands dropping away so he could turn on the lights. They undressed in silence and slid into bed, coming together like puzzle pieces. Low on his back, Renzo curled into him, his head on Low’s chest.

Renzo Vega in his bed, smelling like sin and barely leashed lust, pulling Low into his arms. Low hugged him close and kissed the top of Renzo’s head. “Sorry I don’t have any music.” He had to remember to make a playlist for next time.

He felt Renzo’s smile against his chest. “This is good, baby. We’re good.”

Low didn’t doubt that for a minute. Lulled by the warmth of Renzo’s embrace and his breath on his skin, Low closed his eyes.

The lights stayed on.