Kyou rubbed the sleep from his face and tried to kick his brain back into gear. Without coffee, it proved challenging. He could feel the gears grinding. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.
Perhaps this was easily read on his face, as Ari came up with two coffee mugs and promptly handed one to Kyou. Kyou accepted the offering with both hands and inhaled it with a dreamy sigh.
Pointing a finger towards himself, Carter objected. “Wasn’t that supposed to be my coffee?”
“Sacrificed to a higher cause,” Ari deadpanned.
Eyeing him, Carter grudgingly admitted, “Probably for the best. Brannigan, you seem more awake, so I’ll tell you this. We’re going out to pick up supplies. We’ll probably be back after lunch. I can swing by and grab takeout, so think of what you’d like to have.”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Ivan’s got Remi, or is supposed to. Let Aiden sleep. He’s dead on his feet.”
“Got it.”
Kyou got to the bottom of his mug and frowned down at it. What had happened to the coffee? “Did I drink all of this?”
“You did.” Ari carefully eased the mug away from him and swapped it. “Have mine. We’ll be back later, okay?”
“Do I need to keep a watch while you’re with the dealer?” This thought had only just hit Kyou.
“Naw, I know this guy well.” Carter flapped a hand to negate the idea. “It’s fine.”
Accepting that, Kyou didn’t argue further and let them leave. They looked unfairly awake. They even had pants on. Who had pants on at—he squinted at the clock above the sink—eight o’clock in the morning? That had to be blasphemous. Sacrilegious. Something.
As far as Kyou knew, there was only one answer to any question this early in the morning. “Coffee.”
“I could use some myself.” Brannigan shifted, preparing to leave the couch.
Oh good. They were in agreement. Kyou got up so Brannigan had room to maneuver and headed for the kitchen. The coffee maker still had half a pot, thank god, and Kyou immediately poured himself a refill. Then reached for the mugs and poured Brannigan one as well. See? He could think of thoughtful gestures after only two cups of coffee.
Brannigan reached around him and took it, draining half of it in one go.
“Since when do you take your coffee black?”
“This morning calls for it.” Brannigan put the cup back down, pushing it to the side, then with a heave of effort, lifted Kyou onto the counter.
Kyou spluttered at this maneuver, not at all expecting it, and nearly sloshed coffee over both of them in the process. “Bran! The hell!”
“I,” Brannigan informed him with a perfectly formed pout on his lips, “did not get my morning kiss yet.”
He didn’t even have a chance to form a response to that when Brannigan tilted Kyou’s head up and sealed his mouth over his. Coffee, stubble, warm male skin, and sweet heat as a tongue tangled with his own. Kyou surrendered with a groan, setting his cup blindly aside somewhere on the counter so he could wrap both arms around Brannigan. Brannigan’s hands were hot against his back, soothing in circles, trailing down to his thighs to encourage him to wrap a leg around his own hip. Kyou was happy to do so, wanting Brannigan closer.
Brannigan’s mouth shifted down and back to the sensitive spot he’d found under Kyou’s ear last night. Kyou tilted his head with a sigh, enjoying the attention there. In a dreamy voice, he noted, “You like pinning me to places.”
“Been a fantasy of mine for a while,” Brannigan answered, the words hot on his skin. “And you like it.”
“Mmm,” Kyou agreed, his body in that hazy state of pleasure.
A hand found its way under his shirt, then dipped under the waistband of his pants and boxers. Kyou startled a little as one finger traced between his ass cheeks, stroking there playfully. His breath caught in his throat, eyes wide with surprise, then settling in pleasure. Oh. That was, hmm. Nice.
“I was about to ask if you’d like to bottom.” Brannigan kissed him lightly, mouth lingering. “I think I just got my answer.”
Kyou had only experienced anal sex twice and he had enjoyed it. It had been so long since he’d had another man’s hands on him, he’d forgotten how lovely it was to have someone caress him there. He caught Brannigan’s head with both hands, kissing him fervently, demandingly.
Pulling back, Brannigan looked a little wild and desperate. “Caro, I know I said we weren’t ready for sex last night—”
“If you don’t properly put your hands on me, I will fucking murder you,” Kyou promised firmly. “And we need to get out of the kitchen before someone wanders through here.”
“Shower?” Brannigan offered hopefully.
The shower had something of a chance of softening the noises they were bound to make, and so they wouldn’t wake up Aiden. Kyou awarded Brannigan points for thinking on his feet. “Shower.”
11
Kyou
They hit the bathroom door with their mouths locked and feeding off each other. Brannigan’s hands roamed Kyou’s body, skimming his shoulder blades, grasping at his hips, catching and squeezing his ass. One hand only left long enough to close the bathroom door and then immediately returned. Kyou couldn’t seem to stop stroking Brannigan’s face—his cheekbones and sharp jawline, that soft, soft skin, warmer than Kyou’s own—all the features that Kyou had admired, dreamt of, but never touched.
Kyou’s shirt was yanked unapologetically off, and of course Brannigan had never put one on last night, so their bare chests brushed against each other. They fit together so stunningly well, better than Kyou had ever dared to dream. He dove his tongue into Brannigan’s mouth, and when their tongues brushed, Brannigan gave a soft little nng sound that he could taste as well as hear. It drove him a bit mad. Kyou really, really had to get them out of their pants.
He tried to break the kiss and buy himself some higher thought process. Brannigan categorically refused to let him. Every time their lips parted, Brannigan fused them back together again with a plaintive moan, like he couldn’t bear the separation.
Kyou gave up and kissed him harder, deeper. Brannigan sighed into it, settling a little. Kyou put his back to the edge of the sink and used it as leverage to tilt his hips up, a wanton invitation. Brannigan immediately pulled his leg farther up and around his waist, using it to press them in closer.
“Pants,” Brannigan whined at him between kisses.
“If you’d”—kiss—“just”—kiss—“let me”—kiss—“dammit, Bran!”
“Stop talking. Pants.”
Kyou gave up fumbling with the man’s front ties and just yanked the pants down and let them puddle on the floor. Brannigan seemed to think that was brilliant, as he promptly did the same to Kyou’s, then paused and looked Kyou over from head to toe. Kyou would have been a little shy under that intense scrutiny if he weren’t doing the same to Brannigan.
That…that was just unfair. Why the hell did Brannigan look like one of those Greek statues? Maybe working out routinely had benefits. And there was no way he compared to all of that muscle.
Brannigan clearly didn’t agree with that assessment. He had a ravenous expression on his face for a split second that froze. His hand came up, lightly touching the many scars on Kyou’s chest from all of his childhood surgeries. They were old, faded lines of white now but still visible. Kyou didn’t want him to ask or dwell on that right now. He slid a hand down, massaging Brannigan’s balls, and that jump-started the man like nothing else would.