Page 75 of Under Construction

They both know what he means—how Chris's cock is too thick, too long for Dennis to handle yet. How every night Chris stretches him a little more, preparing him with endless, meticulous care.

"Tell me," Dennis gasps as Chris finally adds just the tip of a third finger. "Tell me how it'll feel."

Anticipation.

Longing.

Trust.

"So full." Chris's mouth finds his neck, teeth grazing marked-up skin. "Gonna split you open on my cock. Make you take every inch." His fingers push deeper. "But not yet. Not until you're ready and it feels really,reallyfucking good."

It's become their ritual now—Dennis asking, Chris describing.

No matter how many times they do this, Dennis never tires of hearing it, and Chris never seems to bore of telling him.

Maybe because each time Chris talks about it, Dennis’s body yields a little more, like Chris's words are preparing him as much as his fingers.

Dennis comes like that, fucking himself on Chris's fingers, Chris's promises hot against his skin.

After, they lie tangled together, sweat cooling again. Chris's hand traces idle patterns on Dennis’s hip while Dennis lightly circles Chris's navel with a fingertip.

Cared for.

Protected.

Wanted.

"Tell me about Seattle," Dennis says suddenly, snuggling himself under Chris’s arm like it’s story time.

"Hmm?" Chris's arm curves around him naturally, pulling Dennis into the space that seems shaped just for him.

"You mentioned working there once. Before Sacramento."

Something flickers across Chris's face, there and gone. But his voice stays steady as he talks about sustainable housing projects, about innovation in traditional spaces, about dreams that sound a lot like Dennis’s.

His whole face lights up as he gets into it, hands painting pictures in the air, voice rising and falling with excitement.

Dennis stays quiet, drinking in these rare moments when Chris opens up about himself.

His fingers find their way to Chris's inner thigh, stroking that silky skin he loves to touch. Playing with Chris's balls until they draw tight under his fingertips. Gently tugging at the sparse, downy hairs he finds there.

Chris's legs fall open wider at his touch, welcoming Dennis’s exploring hand.

"You really believe in this stuff," Dennis says, surprised, when Chris is done.

"Course I do." Chris turns his head to Dennis, like he’s not quite sure what to make of his tone. His smile becomes soft when he sees Dennis’s face. "Why'd you think I stuck around when everyone else quit?"

"Because I'm pretty?"

"Because you're brilliant." Chris says it simply, like it's obvious. "And yeah, okay, the pretty doesn't hurt." He rubs his jaw, testing the hinge where Dennis’s punch had landed months ago. "Most of the time."

Admired.

Appreciated.

Seen.

Dennis smacks his chest, but he can’t help but feel just a little pleased. "Shut up."

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