Lying in his waterbed, hands tucked behind his head, Pax tried to imagine what Cliff’s day had been like. He hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d left with Bianca this morning. Pax knew he’d arrived home, because the light was on in their living room after Pax had showered.

He flung himself onto his bed, desperate to stop gazing over at the neighbors. Desperate to cool his twisted nerves.

It didn’t seem to be helping.

His nerves remained heavy and sympathetic, and something else. Something that craved. Something that wanted acknowledgment and sating.

The feeling had germinated when he’d woken up in Cliff’s bed, and it had only grown. He’d tried to focus on cleaning, shopping, and planning with Luca, but they were mere distractions. His mind kept wandering to the siblings and what they were thinking, feeling . . .

His Nokia buzzed. Pax knocked the lamp off the nightstand in his frantic attempt to answer.

He smoothed on the swashbuckle. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Cliff’s voice came hesitantly down the line. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Trumpets and cymbals?”

“And lyrics.”

“Lyrics?”

“Bianca and I . . . talked. We talked for hours. It was the closest I’ve felt to her since . . .”

Pax swallowed. He grabbed a pair of shorts and shoved them on, pinching the phone between ear and shoulder. “Cliff?” He peeked out the window, but the study was dark. “Are you in the living room?”

“I’m in bed.”

Pax’s pulse ticked. “Can I—?”

“Come over.”

“Front door, Apollo.”

Pax hooked a leg over the last stretch of prickly trellis and stumbled onto the balcony. He veered his fall into Cliff’s arms and their chests smacked together. He grinned at Cliff’s predictably exasperated face. “Habit.”

The scent of night flowers sweetened the tepid air around them. A stray vine leaf curled around Pax’s elbow and Cliff plucked it off him.

Cliff wore boxers with musical staffs printed on the material. His T-shirt was so thin Pax’s eye was drawn to his hardened nipples. He jerked his gaze back up. Cliff’s hair was damp from a recent shower, and his glasses sat perfectly perched on his nose. Annoying, because Pax yearned for an excuse to slide them up the bridge of his nose.

Cliff studied Pax back, ogling his Nirvana T-shirt and tamed hair.

Air washed between them as Cliff abruptly stepped back and widened the sliding door, gesturing Pax inside. Pax had entered Cliff’s bedroom a few times, but this time felt . . . different.

Nerves shot up his feet as he crossed inside. Both table lamps were illuminated, casting the room in a warm, golden glow.

The craving leaped higher in his chest. Made his heart trip.

The room looked exactly how he’d left it this afternoon after changing the sheets to fresh olive-green ones, but it felt different. Weightier. Stepping into Cliff’s room was like being embraced by him.

He drew in a deep breath and it tasted thickly of aftershave and musk and need.

It felt raw and intimate and most of all, comfortable.

He kicked off his shoes. He hadn’t bothered with socks, and the carpet felt spongey under the soles of his feet.

Cliff stood in front of Pax at the end of the bed. Pax folded his arms and hefted an eyebrow.

Cliff studied him, long and hard, his internal debate playing out in his eyes. He clenched his jaw and rubbed it. “Thank you. For talking last night. For encouraging me to spend the day with Bianca.”

“Do you want to talk more?”

Cliff shook his head and moved toward his side of the bed. He pulled off his glasses, folded them, and set them beside his alarm clock. “You actually cleaned."

“And shopped for the necessities. Milk, bread, butter . . .”

Cliff eyed him suspiciously and opened his top bedside drawer. “Well done, you refrained.”

“Bottom drawer.”

The squeal of wood and a pregnant pause. “Of course.”

Pax snuck up behind Cliff and electricity danced up his fingers and palms when he wrapped his arms around Cliff’s waist. Cliff stiffened for a moment, and then his hot fingers slid atop Pax’s. “Have you figured it out yet?”

Pax’s pulse pounded. “Why you’re hesitant to fuck me?” Because you like me. You want more than to fool around. “I think . . . I might know, but I’m still processing it.”

“You’re supposed to run away.”

Pax paused, then urged Cliff around to face him. Pax weaved Cliff’s fingers between his. The light slide of skin sharpened Pax’s breath. “No. You want me to run away.”

“Yes.”

“I think you want to fuck, too.”

Cliff’s eyes hooded. “Yes.”

“Piano and guitar—”

Cliff hauled Pax against him, fingers biting at his waist. Suddenly, his mouth locked on Pax’s and his tongue glided over the seam of his lips, sending a delicious shiver to Pax’s toes curling into the carpet.

Cliff lessened his hold, giving Pax room to push away if he wanted.

Pax jammed his chest closer, relishing the thunder that had exploded inside. “Fuck, you feel good.”

“I feel out of control,” Cliff answered, nipping along Pax’s jaw to the sensitive skin under the lobe of his ear. “Like I will regret this in the morning.” His nose ran up the curve of Pax’s ear. “Like I don’t care.”

Pax clenched Cliff’s T-shirt and pulled it off over his head. “If you’re going to regret it, we should damn well make it supremely regrettable.”

“I’m not sure that makes sense.”

“Sense? What’s that? All I can think about is your muscled pecs and what that hard, flat stomach and line of chestnut hair will feel like rubbing against mine.”

Cliff groaned. Pax felt him warring between the desire to continue and the need to hold back.

Pax raveled up the hem of his T-shirt over his hip. He looked slyly at Cliff and gave an exaggerated hiss of pain. “I scratched myself coming up the trellis. Splinters impaling me and everything.”

Cliff cocked a disbelieving brow, and a soft rush of fondness flittered through his laugh. “I guess I’d better take a look.”

Cliff pulled Pax in by the hips, and their hard cocks bumped through the layers between them.

Fingernails and cotton scraped up his sides as Cliff tugged off Pax’s shirt. It hit the floor beside them with a muffled thump.

“No splinters,” Cliff murmured.

“Maybe you should check lower.”

Cliff dropped to his knees and Pax’s cock throbbed.

Cliff had his shorts down to his ankles in an instant. Hands smoothed up his legs, lips following so close, Pax felt the moist trail his breath left on his inner thigh. “None here either.”

“You’re not a man to leave a stone unturned.”

Laughter, hot and heavy, leaked through his thin boxers, making Pax gasp. Cliff kept his eyes on Pax as he pressed his mouth to the head of his cock through the material. Holy fuck. This man would be the end of him.

Pax canted his hips, rubbing his cock over Cliff’s mouth. If it felt this good already, how would it feel to have Cliff’s tongue on him?

Elastic snapped as Cliff pulled down his boxers. Pax’s cock bobbed free, whispering over Cliff’s cheek.

The darkening heat in Cliff’s eyes had Pax cursing. He threaded a hand through that thick chestnut hair and knotted it as Cliff gripped his hard shaft. Soft lips and the heat of Cliff’s tongue glided over his head.

Pax uttered a soft and depraved curse.

Cliff’s tongue teased and stroked his cock. Hands slapped his ass, thrusting Pax forward, and Cliff swallowed him. The wet suction of his tongue and velvety throat had him on the verge of weeping. Never had sliding his cock in and out of a mouth felt like this.

Before, blowjobs were a thing done in the dark. Quick, furious, and fun. But that was all.

They were never this . . . real.

This erotic. This intimate.

The rumpled bed, the billowing curtains, the soft carpet, the pockmarked dresser, and the oak shelves seeped history into the room, and every breath tasted of Cliff. Tasted incredible.

And Christ. He’d never looked anyone in the eye as he shallowly thrust forward. The desire there grounded him. There was no need to rush, no need to fake grunts, no need to swallow awkward gasps and whimpers that would’ve sounded obscene in the quiet room.

He pushed slowly into Cliff’s mouth, his cheek popping. “Hold there a sec,” Pax said, reaching for Cliff’s glasses on the nightstand. He pulled out of that skillful mouth, cock butting Cliff’s chin as Pax slid the frames on. “There. Perfect.”

Cliff brushed his thumbs over the sides of his ass and devoured him. Their eyes met with a spark that elevated Pax’s nerves. He craved him, both inside and out.

It was . . . God, it was too much. He dropped his head back and the ceiling blurred as sensation drugged him.

He was all lyrics. An unholy amount of beautiful, harmonizing lyrics.

The ache in his cock grew. He needed more, and he didn’t want to come like this.

Not the first time.

The thought came unbidden, and it made the draft over his skin frizzle.

He slid out of Cliff’s mouth and pulled Cliff to his feet. He pressed their naked chests together and delighted in all that large muscle against him. Warm and strong. Chest hair silkily rubbing against his nipples.

He cupped the hard cock tenting Cliff’s musical boxers and sucked on his neck. “I fucking love your underwear. Take them off.”

Cliff pulled the waist, undulated his hips, and shimmied them to his ankles. He stepped out of them, into Pax, dick thumping against his stomach. His stomach twitched at the wet kiss of Cliff’s cock head.

God, Cliff was beautiful. Tall, toned, confident.

Pax traced his hands over Cliff’s shoulder blades, down the flanks of his back. Muscle shifted as Cliff gripped Pax’s nape and drove his tongue into his mouth.

Hot and insistent.

Pax kissed him back, hauling him in by the ass, closer, closer. He could live in Cliff’s kisses forever. The man knew what to do with his tongue. Pushing, sucking, flicking. All the perfect amount.

They rubbed their cocks against each other, and Cliff growl-groaned between kisses. “What do you like?”

“Being admired. Being told I’m a musical genius.”

A chuckle feathered over his wet lips.

Pax smirked. “Say it.”

“I’ve been saying it to you every day.” Cliff dragged his chin to Pax’s throat. Words fanned into the shell of his ear. “Why else do you think I call you Apollo?”

Apollo.

Apollo.

Pax’s pulse jackrabbited. Oh, fucking shit.

Apollo. God of the sun, light, and music.

A wretched, breathless sound slipped out of him. “Holy hell, Cliff. I’m about to come the hardest I have in my life—and that’s at your compliment.” Pax threw himself onto Cliff’s side of the ruffled bed and tucked a thin pillow under his head. “Imagine what your dick will do.”

Cliff laughed darkly and crawled over him. “What do you like? Coin toss?”

Their dicks crossed as Pax pulled Cliff’s weight onto him. “Heads, you top. Tails, I bottom,” he said with a wink.

He cocked his hips, rubbing against Cliff’s lower stomach, overwhelmed by the need for more. The solid length of Cliff burned into him. He raised his head and snatched those lips into his mouth. “Shrew me. Shrew me like you mean it.”

Cliff buried his tongue in a deeper kiss and pulled back into a crouch over him. His cock dragged over Pax’s hip as he leaned over the bed and opened the drawer.

“Bet you love my obstinacy now.”

Cliff palmed a condom and lube onto the middle of the bed. “Now? Before now.”

Their gazes met, and Pax shivered at the connection. He wanted to look away. . .

He reached out and pushed Cliff’s glasses up the bridge of his nose from where they’d slipped down. Green eyes, squarely framed. Pax pushed up on his elbows, hooked a hand around Cliff’s neck, and breezed a kiss over the bow of Cliff’s lips.

He felt the responding hitched breath drag over his mouth.

He pulled back and arched a brow. “I want to feel you all day tomorrow.”

That spurred Cliff into a primal frenzy. Kisses turned into love bites down his neck; a hot palm pushed his inner thigh and skated to his ass. Lube dribbled over his balls and perineum, and a slicked finger darted over his hole.

“Fuck. Again. Like you mean it.”

Cliff’s cheek bumped his shaft and teeth softly scraped the sensitive skin at the top of his thigh. He wiggled a finger inside him.

Pax arched for it, babbling for more. Greedy for it.

More lube, more fingers breached him. The intrusion made him gasp, and he clenched around Cliff for a moment. The slow slide of fingers had him groaning into the crook of his elbow, and then Cliff’s mouth descended over his cock once more.

An insane, wild pressure built, and Pax steered Cliff off him. “I need you.”

Cliff sheathed his cock with a condom and crawled up Pax, tonguing his nipple along the way. He caught both Pax’s wrists and pinned them above his head against the soft pillow. A foot pushed Pax’s ankle, and his leg scooted over cooler sheets. Cliff rested on him and Pax instinctively curled his other foot around Cliff’s firm ass and thighs.

There was no discussion about positions. They would always be face to face. Always have the light glowing over them.

Cliff cuffed their cocks together with his free hand and stroked.

“You get off teasing me,” Pax panted.

“I do.”

“I get off teasing you, too.”

“I know.”

“Spear me with your dick, Cliff.”

“I’m afraid you’ll come too soon.”

“I’ll outlast you.”

Cliff let go of their cocks and palmed Pax’s ass, angling him until the head of his cock nudged Pax’s entrance. “Does everything have to be a game?”

“Much more fun that way.”

Cliff answered by pressing into him. Pax stretched around him with a hiss.

“Should I stop?”

“I fucking dare you to.”

Cliff squeezed Pax’s wrists and thrust forward with a strangled moan that made the deep breach into him worth it. Their gazes flittered together, and Cliff angled a searing kiss on his lips and started to glide.

The second and third thrusts shifted toward pleasure. The fourth had him pushing his wrists out from Cliff’s hold and clawing at Cliff’s ass for more, for deeper. His cock throbbed against Cliff’s stomach every time Cliff dropped down for tongue-tangling kisses.

A hand caressed his ass cheek, skated up to his nipple to pinch it between thumb and forefinger, and drifted over the ink at his arm.

“You’re so damn hot,” Cliff said against his earlobe as he ground his pelvis against the base of Pax’s cock. Pleasure built so hard and fast, Pax almost lost control.

He shoved Cliff off, wincing at the loss of fullness, then tackled Cliff to the bed and straddled him. He murmured some insult that made Cliff smile.

Pax sank down on Cliff’s cock, and that smile warped into a hopping groan. Pax’s cock slapped against a shelf of muscle and he squeezed his thighs and ass around Cliff.

The man looked sinful under him, lips raw, chafed jaw where their stubble had rubbed, hair wretched. And those glasses, fuck. Pax liked Cliff in them. Liked that Cliff could see him better, too.

Pax set a tortuous rhythm, dick slapping obscenely. Cliff’s jaw clenched and his hands clasped Pax’s thighs with a perfect, punishing grip.

Cliff was so deep in him, rubbing his prostate with every instroke.

Pax reveled in the climbing pleasure, but something in him still craved. Still sought more.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

Cliff read his thoughts. He slowed their thrusts, ran his palms up Pax’s legs. “Come over me, Apollo.”

He shivered at the name, and his eye caught on the corkboard. The poster of Pax. No holes except for his freckle. Couldn’t even see it—

Oh, double fuck.

He thought he knew why Cliff was wary of fucking him, but having an inkling was nothing compared to feeling the truth to his bones. His whole body soared. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“Are you looking at yourself right now?” Cliff groaned out in disbelief.

Pax swallowed a twisted yarn of nerves and hoped his smile wasn’t shaky. “I am.”

Cliff snapped his hips, sliding deeper into Pax. “Look at me.”

Pax gripped the headboard above Cliff and looked down at Cliff’s face layered in his shadow. Their gazes clashed, and Pax let one hand off the headboard and furiously fisted his dick through the scaling intensity.

“What music is this?” Pax’s voice pebbled.

Fingernails bit into his hips. Pleasure and need crescendoed, and Cliff’s guttural “us” impaled Pax. He croaked out in warning, and Cliff thundered into him.

Pax’s orgasm drummed powerful spasms through his body, curling his toes, prickling the hair at his nape. Come ribboned over Cliff’s chest, matting his hair.

Pax rubbed his calloused thumb through his seed and over Cliff’s nipple.

Cliff pistoned into him three more times, and Pax dropped down and drank in Cliff’s gasp of ecstasy as he throbbed inside him.

Pax didn’t want it to be over; he didn’t know how to face the aftermath.

He squeezed his eyes shut and continued kissing Cliff. The angle was getting uncomfortable and Cliff was slipping out of him, yet still he meshed their lips together.

“Are you okay?” Cliff murmured over the seam of his lips.

Pax’s kisses grew choppy and it felt like he was making an idiot of himself.

Steady hands clasped his back and head and Cliff rolled them. The blankets were soft under Pax. Cliff jammed their bodies together and Pax opened his eyes.

Caution and doubt darkened Cliff’s eyes. Cliff must feel the same as he did, unsure what was supposed to happen next.

Seeing that helped fuel Pax out of his uncertainty. He flashed a small grin. “Let’s clean up. And then I’m sleeping here the night.”

“You are?”

It sounded like a question, and Pax hated that.

Pax sat on the high stool at the kitchen island in his T-shirt and Cliff’s boxers. Apparently he had some kink for wearing Cliff’s underwear. Cliff had shaken his head and snapped on a fresh pair with—to Pax’s horror and delight—big red dog print.

“Stop looking at my boxers,” Cliff said, shutting the fridge.

“Stop barking at me.”

Cliff snorted, turned toward him with a bottle of milk, and poured two glasses across from him. “They were a joke from Bianca.”

“At least one of you has a sense of humor.”

Cliff silently warned him and slid a glass toward him.

“Can you make us muffins?” Pax asked after a good gulp.

“It’s past midnight.”

“It’s morning then. Your favorite time to get things done.”

“Drink up, then get your ass to bed.”

Pax licked the milk moustache off his upper lip. “Some more rock ’n’ roll?”

“Some sleep.”

“What about a movie in bed and some of those leftover pancakes?” Pax gestured to the Tupperware container holding leftovers.

“You’ll drop crumbs in my sheets.”

“I’ll use them as an excuse to cuddle you like I did first time.”

Cliff’s smile dazzled. “Movie and pancakes it is.”

They lay facing each other.

Cliff caged Pax in his arms.

Pax locked a leg around Cliff’s thighs.

Cliff told him to stop pinching his side.

Pax told him to start getting used to the beat.

Cliff pinched him back.

Pax agreed not every moment needed music.

When Cliff fell asleep, Pax let the feelings he held tremble out of him. Staring up at the poster of his face, Pax felt that moment he had experienced during sex plow back through him.

Cliff liked him. More than liked him. He’d tried hard not to let Pax know it right from the start. Had darted his face as if that might prove he had no feelings.

But he did. Cliff liked him, and it scared him. Because Pax was there for a summer. Pax was a horny guy who got off with other horny guys. Pax was a scheming swashbuckler.

The ultimate heartbreaker.

Pax burrowed against Cliff and kissed his collarbone. His throat tightened, and his murmur bounced back against his lips. “I’m not.”