Then Josh does something lush, unexpected, with his mouth, the mouth that's haunted Orlando's dreams, and Eric is forgotten. Orlando is drowning for a different reason altogether, and all he wants to do is pull Josh down to the filthy pavement and finish the job. "Using me again. Aren't you?" Orlando asks, painting the words with acid sweetness across the seam of Josh's lips once Josh lets him up for air. He notices that Eric's no longer lurking about. Part of him is savagely glad, even though he knows it's not real. None of this is real. No matter how much he wishes otherwise. Josh, to his credit, doesn't deny it. They've never had lies between them, even if they've never had complete truth, either. "And if I am?" There's something glittering and hard about Josh's eyes, something untamed and searching, and Orlando's body reacts to it with a visceral punch. "You know I'll take care of you." "I don't doubt it." Orlando has very vivid memories of the last time, and all the times before that. Of Josh's hands on every inch of needy skin, how Josh had made him moan and beg, and how they'd wrung each other dry before starting over again. But it's not enough. It never has been. "Seems like a lot of trouble just to make Eric jealous." Josh's half-smile is wry, complicated. His face is all sharp angles and shadows. His eyes are so dark they're almost black. "This isn't about Eric." "Then what is it about?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Orlando rubs his thumb across Josh's chin, soft, searching, at odds with the violent churning of emotion inside him. "Try me." "He looks at you too much. And he shouldn't," Josh murmurs, the calm tone belying the way he's grinding against Orlando, all heat and hunger and barely leashed passion. Orlando struggles with clarity, with hope, but then Josh's lips are back on his, this time hard and possessive, and then there's no more room in Orlando's thoughts for anything other than this.
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