Page 91 of Under Construction

"Your balls were just in my mouth," Dennis whispers, both palms cupping Chris’s cheeks.

Chris looks funny upside down—just as handsome, but in a way that makes Dennis grin. His thumbs stroke lightly along Chris’s jaw as their eyes meet. Then Dennis pulls him into a kiss anyway.

Deep and unhurried, it lingers—a quiet ‘thank you’ for what they’ve just done.

For the easy companionship.

For whatever strange, unspoken thing that exists between fuck buddies who might actually like each other as people.

Chris lets Dennis take the lead at first, the kiss soft and sweet, almost reverent. Then he takes over, his version rawer, wetter—all extra tongue and barely-contained hunger, messy and unrestrained like he can’t get enough, determined to devour Dennis’s mouth completely.

His teeth find Dennis’s bottom lip, biting down just enough to make it puff up before he sucks it between his own, leaving it swollen and tingling.

"When I finally get to eat out that ass of yours," Chris murmurs, pulling back just enough to smirk against Dennis’s wet, battered lips, "I’ll kiss you after, and we’ll call it even."

Dennis barks out a laugh, knees curling up to his belly as if to shield himself, arms crossing over his chest. "What the fuck, Chris," he says, half scandalized, half weirdly delighted.

It should be gross. It should make him cringe.

But it doesn’t.

Dennis can’t figure out why. Instead, he slips a hand behind Chris’s neck, guiding him into another kiss, letting Chris kiss him back in that hungry, all-consuming way he does—the way Dennis secretly loves—until they’re both panting, on the edge of passing out.

Maybe they’re past the point of barriers now.

Maybe they’re past a lot of points they shouldn’t have crossed.

Later, after they've collapsed onto their sides, breathless and sated, Chris takes his time—pressing soft kisses along Dennis’s chest, laving his tongue over the tender peaks, cooling away the burn he'd worked into them earlier.

It’s slow and lazy, the complete opposite of what came before. They lie like that for a while, Dennis skating his fingertips up and down Chris’s spine, their breaths evening out, settling into that pleasant afterglow.

It’s when Dennis is almost asleep that he hears it.

The soft sound of Chris getting up.

The familiar notes of his ukulele drifting in from the balcony.

Of his voice—pure, soft, and mellow—a stark contrast to the gruff, rough-and-tumble man that kisses Dennis like he’s the only oxygen at the bottom of the sea.

Dennis’s phone buzzes.

He cracks an eye open. Rolls onto his side and gropes around blindly on the floor beside him until his fingers bump against the screen.

New message.

Saved number.

Chris’s number.

Miss you already princess

Even though Chris is right there, watching the stars, holding onto something Dennis can't quite reach.

Dennis stares at the message until the screen fades to black.

26Secret Tallies

Monday evening finds them holed up in the site office, where industrial lighting casts harsh shadows over blueprints and material specs scattered across the folding table.

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