Page 20 of Before They Were Lovers

God turned his head, the scent of something powdery and clean catching his attention. The pillow he was lying on smelled like Day, and he was unable to stop himself from burying his face in it and taking a deeper whiff. He wanted to drown himself in it.

I need more.

“God…what the fuck are you doing?” Day’s voice was softer now.

“I can smell you,” he whispered, his throat dry and thick from the alcohol. “What cologne do you use? You smell better than any man I’ve ever been around.”

He immediately regretted saying that, but the floodgates were already open, so he kept allowing shit to spill out.

“You have a cool first name, y’know,” he garbled, face half-buried in the pillow. “I didn’t like that rich prick using it. He said it like you were his world.”

“I’m not in his world, God. I’m in yours.”

God hummed, liking the sound of that.

“But I wouldn’t call you Leonidis…because that’s what he calls you.” God sighed. “I’d call you Leo…yeah, Leo…you’re my Leo.”

Day huffed a quiet “Shit.”

It took some effort—and his stomach rolled—but God flopped onto his back, gazing up at his partner again.

“You’re all I’ve got, Day. Do you know that?” He wasn’t sure if his words were audible. However, he kept mumbling, his eyes drifting closed. “Just you, man. You’re the only one who’s never made me feel like a monster.”

That truth was an uppercut right on the chin, hurting like a son of a bitch. He needed his partner so badly it scared him. What if Day left too?

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his plea just shy of a whisper.

“Never.” He heard it faintly. “I’ve wanted you much longer than you know, God.”

He felt a shift in the air as heat penetrated his chest, the feeling of comfort and goodness hovering over him. Day was close, so close.

“If I could have you, Day”—the words slipped out—“I’d protect you with my life. I’d treat you better than anyone has ever treated you. I’ve been with a lot of women…but none of them make me feel like you do. I never laughed, hadn’t laughed in at least twenty years…until I met you.”

He was rambling now.

Suddenly, fingers were in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a long, throaty rumble to escape. Each careful stroke felt infused with a warmth that sent ripples of desire cascading down his front. His moans grew more intense and passionate, matching the touch, causing his dick to throb for attention.

“Day,” he groaned, sliding his hand inside his briefs.

God gripped himself and satisfied his cock with a long, languid stroke.

A gasp of air hit his cheek, followed by a tortured “Oh, fuck me.”

Then, suddenly, the wonderfulness of the touch was gone, and so was the heat.

The last thing he remembered was bliss deep in his groin before everything faded to black.

Day

Day hurried and locked himself in the bathroom, folding over at the ache in his balls.

What the fuckin’ fuck?

He’d already been feeling some type of way from hauling God up the sidewalk to his apartment, his heavy body pressed against his and his mouth on his throat.

Day knew God didn’t know what the hell he was doing and confessing. Inhaling him as if he were a Thanksgiving feast, his wet lips grazing his throat while he leveled compliment after compliment in his ear.

He didn’t mind helping his partner after he got smashed. God was never a chore to him, but the teasing and tempting were too much.

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