Chapter 39: Their Turns

Joel was waiting in the bath-house with the lamps turned low and his sleeves pushed to the elbow.

He had been there an hour.

Max could tell, because the water in the great stone tub had gone merely warm.

Joel was still pacing.

"You're third," Max said from the door. "You can stop looking so grim about it."

"I'm not grim. I'm composed."

"You've worn a track in the tiles."

Joel stopped.

"I want it done right," he said stiffly.

"You gave James a night I couldn't match. I've thought of nothing else for two days."

"Joel."

"I've read things."

"You've read things?"

"In the Tyros library. There's a whole shelf. Don't laugh at me."

Max crossed the tiles and took the front of his shirt in both fists.

"I'm not laughing," he said. "Take me to the water."

Joel's grey eyes went black.

He lifted Max off his feet with one arm and carried him down the steps into the tub.

He set him against the wall with the warm water lapping at their waists.

Then he kissed him, slow, deliberate and deep, and every nerve in Max's body lit.

"Tell me what you like," Joel said against his mouth.

"That."

"What else?"

"Your hands. Everywhere. Your mouth on my neck. Then your cock."

Joel made a low sound and did all of it.

He stripped Max's clothes off and threw them on the tiles.

He kissed down Max's throat, over the pulse in it, and sucked a bruise into the soft skin below his ear.

His fingers found Max's hole, slick and open, and slid in two at a time.

"Fuck," Max breathed. "Joel."

"You're so wet for me. Look at you."

"Don't talk. Just."

"No." Joel's voice dropped. "I want to say it."

"Say what?"

"You were mine on a desk, and on the floor, and in a bed. Let me say it once with my cock in you."

Max looked at him, and nodded.

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