Page 137 of Psychopath

Zane moaned and shuddered as he orgasmed. His cum filled Quinn’s mouth, and he did his best to swallow it all down as Zane heaved for breath above him.

“You,” Zane said, with a growl in his voice. He grabbed Quinn and hauled him up his chest to kiss him on the lips. All Quinn could taste was Zane, and he kissed into his mouth, sharing the bitter tang of cum. They both groaned and kissed each other harder.

They’d started in Zane’s bedroom because it had been closer to the stairs but had to relocate to Quinn’s bedroom, closer to the lube in Quinn’s bedside drawers.

Both beds had twisted duvets, sweaty sheets, and pillows scattered on the floor.

“I thought you were holding out until the camping trip,” Zane said a while later.

“I was.” Quinn pressed his nose into the side of Zane’s neck. “But I couldn’t help myself.” He drew back. “You know they will find you eventually…”

“Who?”

“The press.”

Zane stiffened. “I know. But it’s okay.”

Quinn frowned.

“Because one person knows the truth,” Zane continued, squeezing Quinn to him. “One person knows me and wants me, and they can’t take that away.”

“They can’t,” Quinn agreed.

“But I’m not saying it will be easy. It’s going to be hard, for you too, Quinn.”

“You’re worth it.”

Quinn nodded, then craned his neck to get to Zane’s mouth. They traded leisurely kisses and roaming touches.

Mars broke the moment by meowing at them from the open door.

“Do you want to take him with us?” Zane asked.

Quinn snorted. “Being zipped up with Mars inside a tent is a recipe for disaster.”

Zane pressed his mouth to Quinn’s temple. “I’ll go feed him.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Zane echoed, climbing out of bed. He frowned, searching for his boxers, before Quinn reminded him they were in the other room.

Quinn sighed, sinking back into his pillow, and allowed himself to drift. The bed shifted ten minutes later as Zane rejoined him.

Zane knelt on the bed. “I’ve…got you something.”

“Huh?”

Quinn stared at the tickets in Zane’s hand. On closer inspection, they were flights.

“I still have a bank account,” Zane said. “And it’s not empty. I got a bus to town while you were meeting with your professor a few days ago and booked some flights and a place to stay.”

“In Iceland?”

Quinn gaped.

“Picture it,” Zane murmured. “Me and you, snuggled up in our glass igloo, staring up at the northern lights.”

“I’ve—I’ve always wanted to go here. How—how could you possibly know that?”

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