Page 28 of Misconduct Zone

“But you didn’t.” It is not a question because I know it is true. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. Cravings are part of recovery, and I am here if you need to work through something and your sponsor isn’t available. I am in this with you.” His shoulders relax, and I pull him in for a quick kiss. “Do not be too hard on yourself. You put on a happy act sometimes, but it wears on you. Please do not hide who you are from me. He did and that is a deal breaker for me.” It would be impossible to survive that type of betrayal from Dylon.

Dylon lets out an incredulous laugh and sweeps his hair back. “You want me to be grumpy?”

“You don’t have to act upbeat and crack jokes when you’re upset. I want the real you and am honored you let down your guard around me. We don’t know what’s going to happen, but I ask for your honesty even if you think it will hurt my feelings.” The hypothetical is easy to promise, but at least he will know what I need from him.

“I can do that.” He hesitates. “Are you over that guy? Boe?”

“Yes,” I answer quickly. “We didn’t have a real relationship. You are too important to me to repeat the same mistakes.” I thought my relationship with Boe was serious, but my feelings for Dylon are deeper than an ocean and as inevitable as gravity.

“But you’re already doing it. Falling for an addict. Once an addict, always an addict.” He pulls away, but my arm hooks around his waist.

“You are more than that. Being an addict is a small fraction of the sum of who you are. You’re committed to your program and your sobriety. We cannotpredict the future, but I am certain of you,” I say, and Dylon makes a face. He will not listen if I explain all his good qualities—loyalty, compassion, seeing the best in other people, the ability to connect with others and make them laugh. The list goes on and on. Instead, I tell him the most pressing thing on my mind.

“I want to date you, Dylon Felix. We have the day off tomorrow, and I planned a date day if you agree.” The breath whooshes out of me as he pounces on my chest.

“You are a closet romantic, Lars Drakenberg. I absolutely will go on a date with you. What are we doing?” His arms bracket my head, caging me in, but I won’t tell.

“It’s a surprise. Now shut up and kiss me.” I mimic his voice and am rewarded with an indignant yelp, but then his lips are on mine. We kiss and kiss and kiss, and I could identify his lips blindfolded in a sea of other men.

“Listen, not to complain, buuuut let’s get naked.” His dimple winks at me as his grin overtakes his face.

“Cheeky bastard.” My hand skims his bare chest as I reach for his pants but cup him over the material instead of unbuckling him.

“You’re teasing me.” He scowls but can’t hold the frown.

“No. I am pleasing you,” I insist, massaging him until he’s fully hard. “I want to undress you.”

“You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“Smalls?” I withdraw my hand. Nothing about me is small.

“Yeah, you probably didn’t see that movie as a kid.” He places my hand back on his clothed cock. “Carry on. Tease me until I come in my pants like a loser.”

“Would my touch really do that to you?” I hate he called himself a loser, but the thought that he cannot hold back stirs something possessive in me.

“You have no idea.” Dylon drops his arms out wide and spreads his legs in a starfish pose. “Do whatever you want. I’m yours.”

To oblige, I bite his nipple the way he likes and lick down his stomach as I wrestle with his belt. In my hurry, everything is taking too long. He’s so hard I’m afraid the zipper will catch, so I shove my hands down his pants to protect hisprecious equipment.

When he’s completely naked, I stand. “You look breathtaking.” Dylon’s muscles flex, and his back arches slightly. He’s laid bare and the most beautiful sight. It’s hard to decide where to look. His eyes gleaming with longing, or his red nipple with my teeth marks, or the tattoo I’ve finally touched and tasted. My gaze travels to the well-defined V leading to groomed hair framing his long cock, straining against his abs with a drop of precum on its head. The veins leading from his flared head to his sac beg me to trace them with my tongue. My head swims with gratitude and carnal fantasies of what we can do together.

“You have too many clothes.” He removes my clothes and hisses, “Fuck,” when our dicks slide together. “Why does that feel so amazing?” The sensation is more than the friction of his hot cock, it’s seeing him hard and as desperate for me as I am for him.

“It is you. Your body is made for pleasure.” I am on fire for him. Our body heat could melt all the snow in Swedish Lapland, sending avalanches of ice into the sea.

He plants his feet for more leverage and whimpers when I lift up to retrieve the lube. “Will you fuck me?”

Looking at him under me becomes too much, and I close my eyes for a reprieve. “Is that something you want?”

“I mean, isn’t it part of the whole being into guys thing?”

“Käraste, no. Some men decide they are exclusive tops or bottoms. I am vers. Maybe for your first time, you can fuck me, and we can work up to switching. But not tonight. We cannot have anal sex before our first date.”

“That’s a load of bullcra—” He cuts off when I circle both our cocks with my lubed hand. “Fucking hell. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

“Do you feel the way your head skims along my cock, caressing me? The way your balls drag along mine, trying to plant your seed directly in me.” We kiss while I jack us together, breathing in all of his sounds and making them mine.

“I need to watch you come. I’ve been dreaming of what your face looks like since hearing you orgasm in your room.” Deliberately bracing my arm to separate our torsos, we watch my hand on our cocks.

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