Dante wakes to kisses.
Tender kisses, soft lips, a gentle tongue that eases into his mouth with the familiarity of an old lover, a breathtaking sensation, and when he opens his eyes, Ryan’s staring back at him, so close on the same pillow that his forehead rests against Dante’s own. “Hey,” his boyfriend murmurs—his lover.
Lover. With Jared, it had never been love. s*x, that was it. f**k buddies maybe, and though he never liked that phrase, it sums up perfectly what they were to each other. There was never this afterglow that feels like the morning sun warming his body and igniting his blood, never these pale eyes watching him sleep, never these lips kissing him awake. “Hey yourself,” he whispers. When Ryan smiles, he says, “Kiss me again.”
Ryan does, and again and again, his body presse
