Page 107 of I Think They Love You

Denz isn’t exactly speechless. He’s just not sure how things like vocabulary and sentences work anymore.

“So we’re clear,” he begins, “youwantto have sex?”

Braylon winces, then nods.

“With me?”

Another painful nod.

“Right now?”

“Preferably after you stop being a twit,” Braylon huffs.

“I mean, sex is great, but being a twit is—”

“Are you quite finished?”

Denz swoops down for a kiss, not bothering to ask. Another rule broken.

Their mouths crush together. It’s slow, unlike his heartbeat. He groans as fingers find the grooves of his hips. His palms follow the path of stubble to soft, warm cheeks. He arches unapologetically at the noise Braylon makes deep in his throat.

Impatience takes over. Recklessness too. Teeth catch Denz’s bottom lip. A delicious ache. “Yes” spills out so easily, he swears it comes from another room.

Braylon lifts him off the ground. He tosses Denz on the bed. Muscle memory kicks in as Braylon crawls on top of him. Legs instinctively spread. Braylon’s hips roll and…

Oh. Braylon’s so hard.

Denz is too. His hands scramble over the sinewy back muscles. He doesn’t know whether to push or pull but his head’s spinning. Shallow pants escape his mouth as Braylon pins his wrists to the sheets.

He stares down at Denz, a hunger darkening his eyes.

“For the record,” Denz says, “this was all my idea. The sex and the kissing and—argh,why aren’t we doing more of that?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah, back to the kissing part.”

But Braylon doesn’t move. His gaze dips to where the condoms and lube lie beside Denz’s head.

“I’m on PrEP,” he says, fast and nervous. “And I haven’t had sex with anyone in…”

Denz tries not to react to that pause.

“A long time.”

“Good to know,” Denz breathes out. He’s fighting the urge to do the math on “a long time.” “Me too. On PrEP. I guess I should’ve mentioned that. The other night when you… well.” The heat in his cheeks is unbearable. “And the other partners thing is, um—complicated?”

“Matty at the café?”

“I—”

Braylon shakes his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Denz’s mouth clicks shut. Okay, good. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to explain his sex life since their breakup. Not with Braylon on top of him, the firm shape of his dick trapped behind cotton boxers pressing needily along Denz’s inner thigh.

“I still want to use condoms,” Denz says. “If that’s all right?”

Braylon’s shoulders relax. “Of course.”

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