It was almost too easy to find someone to fuck, and much harder to find someone to kiss and touch.

And he hadn’t had this in far too long.

“I wasn’t planning on this.” He took another kiss, liking the way the ball of the lip ring pressed against his lip. What would it feel like on his cock? “We don’t need them.”

Both of Chester’s eyebrows lifted.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I don’t… I just want this.” God, it was so much harder when he had to say what he wanted when there was more than one option.

That he was allowing himself more than one option.

Chester smiled, but his body did that thing, that hip roll, where it was almost like he was fucking him. “I was hoping they’d be less clothing.”

“Yeah, less clothing would be good.”

Chester pulled away again, but this time Garrett kept a hold of his hips, keeping him close. He flicked open the button on Chesters’s jeans and dragged down the zipper.

Garrett lifted his gaze to find Chester watching him. His brown eyes gleaming golden and the metal in his eyebrow and lip glinting in the soft light. Garrett smoothed his hands up Chester’s abs, over his pecs, to the two piercings beneath his collarbones. “I knew you’d have more.”

Chester laughed and leaned in, stealing a kiss. “You haven’t found them all yet, honey.”

He’d done a thorough inspection of Chester’s cock and there were no piercings there. “I thought your dick would be pierced.”

Chester tugged Garrett’s T-shirt off and kissed him hard before his arms were even untangled. “Do you have any idea how long that takes to heal? I didn’t want to skip sex for that long, plus I’m not a masochist.”

“Are you suggesting I am?”

“You’re a gay NFL player… you tell me.” Chester slid back and stood, pushing down his jeans and briefs in one move.

“There’s a difference between choosing the hard path and being a masochist.”

Chester tugged on Garrett’s tracksuit pants. “Yeah, the masochist enjoys the pain. I don’t think you do.”

Garrett lifted his hips, and Chester grinned as he ripped the track pants off the rest of the way and tossed them on the floor.

“Fuck, you look good.” Chester swooped in and kissed him, knocking him back onto the bed.

Garrett didn’t resist. It had been a bloody long time since he’d been one hundred percent naked with another man. “You feel good.”

“You like this?” He did that hip roll again, and it was far too easy for Garrett to imagine his legs wrapping around Chester’s hips.

He hadn’t let himself think of that, mostly because he couldn’t imagine a stranger fucking him. He’d only ever bottomed with his boyfriend and there had been a level of trust there. To be honest, he hadn’t found it that good. He had no doubt, however, that Chester would make it good.

“Yeah… watching you… feeling…” the last word disintegrated into a groan as their cocks slid against each other.

Chester brushed a kiss over his lips. “It’s your turn now, honey.” Chester had been calling him honey from the moment they were alone. He didn’t know if he called everyone honey, or only the man he was fucking. Garrett didn’t care. Then Chester rolled off him and lay on the bed as though expecting him to follow.

He had also managed to move further up the bed, so only his feet hung off the edge. Garrett turned, and he licked a line from Chester’s bellybutton to one nipple. He needed to taste him. To feel every part of him.

Why had he gone this long without this?

He racked his teeth over the nub and sucked, half expecting Chester to hurry him up, but he didn’t. He waited, watching as Garrett paid some attention to his other nipple, before slowly making his way up to his collarbones and the dip between them, nipping and licking and kissing along the underside of his jaw, and his ear lobe. He breathed him in… The scent of beer and sweat and deodorant.

“You sure you don’t want to fetch the condoms?” Chester’s fingernails raked over Garrett’s scalp, down the back of his neck and across his shoulders.

“Yeah.” Garrett kissed him as though he had forever to explore his lips. “Or is that what you want?”

Was he doing this wrong?