The change in the young man's demeanor was instant and notable. He suddenly seemed vulnerable sitting there, head slightly ducked as his eyes darted out the passenger window. Had his suggested options made the guy feel like a cheap fuck? Colin hadn't meant it that way. Maybe something else was in order.

“My place isn't far,” he said quietly. “Why don't we go there instead? More comfortable.” He looked at Dylan and some of the tension seemed to drain away. “Would you be okay with that?”

Dylan turned his head and looked at him, the light seeping back into his eyes. “Yeah. I would...like that.”

Colin smiled and leaned over again, kissing the young man’s mouth. “Me too.”

Though his place wasn't far, as he'd told Dylan, the drive seemed to take forever as if the flow of time itself had slowed down, working against him, keeping him from getting Dylan to his home, to his bed. When they finally walked through his front door, he was ready to toss aside pleasantries and usher the young man straight to his bedroom. But he forced himself to offer Dylan a drink then poured them both some scotch. Rather than make a B-line to the bedroom, he nodded towards the living room – an open space connected to the kitchen without any walls to divide the rooms. “Would you like to convene to the living room while I light the fireplace?”

His lips pressed tight, Dylan nodded, sipping his drink. Colin motioned forward and directed the young man to the other room. It was dark but for the dim light of the kitchen.

“Have a seat.” Colin indicated the sofa then walked to the fireplace as Dylan sat down, sinking back into the softness of the cushions.

“You have a real nice place,” Dylan said quietly.

Colin squatted before the hearth and twisted the small brass lever that produced flames. “Thanks.” He returned to the kitchen, extinguished the light then came back to the living room.

Dylan stared at his glass, twisting it slowly in his hands, his fingertips tapping the edge anxiously.

“Are you nervous?” Colin asked, amused.

A denial started to formulate on Dylan's lips, then he smiled as if a little embarrassed. “Yeah...I guess...”

“No need.” Colin reached down and took his glass, setting it aside. He gripped Dylan's knees gently and slid his hands slowly up his thighs as he leaned in and kissed him softly, then sank to his knees before the guy. He opened Dylan's legs and moved in closer, rubbing his hands up to his hips, his mouth still locked to the young man's lips. His fingers tightened, digging into Dylan's warm flesh through his pants, and pulled him forward till both their crotches rubbed firmly together. Dylan was hard as granite, as was Colin. He pushed himself against the guy with more purpose as Dylan's fingers sank into his hair, desire and want burning in the young man's hazel eyes.

Dylan trembled, his fingertips playing up the back of Colin's head, an unmistakable Please fuck me now look in his beautiful eyes. Colin rolled his hips against Dylan's crotch ever so slowly, yet with enough firmness to steal the man's breath. Say it, baby, tell me what you want.

“I want you.” Dylan's quiet voice shook, his throat working. His heavy eyes lowered and lingered on Colin's mouth. “I want you...to fuck me...right here on your sofa.”

Firelight danced across Dylan's handsome face, flickered in his eyes, enhancing the illusion of heat already smoldering in those depths. His words seared through Colin. He didn't speak as he began to pluck loose the buttons of Dylan's shirt until his chest and stomach were exposed, then pushed the shirt off his shoulders, helping him out of it. A hard groan thickened his throat, and he touched his lips to the young man's throat then worked lower – tasting, exploring, savoring. Dylan gasped and arched when Colin caught a nipple between his teeth, ground it gently until the boy whimpered and squirmed then massaged the tender bud with his tongue before finally sucking with his warm mouth.

“Mmm!” Dylan whimpered hard and arched more fiercely, his crotch shoving against Colin's, rubbing his hands down Colin's back. His fingers curled, clumping Colin's shirt into his fists, pulling it loose from his waistband and dragging it up his torso. Colin drew back just enough to pull the shirt up over his head, tossing it away haphazardly as he returned to the young man's chest then traced a wet path down the center of his stomach with his slick tongue, dipping into his navel.

Dylan bit his lower lip as a low, drawn-out – “FFFuuuck.” – squeezed up out of him. His short nails dragged against Colin's back as his head shoved against the sofa, hips lifting, thrusting, slowly, rhythmically, working Colin's crotch with his own.

Fuck, this young man was no amateur. Which surged Colin with excitement at the possibilities of the depth of give and take this night offered.