Krish pulls him down to the sofa, easing him back to the cushions to cut off any further questions with a hungry kiss. His hands find their way beneath Dane’s shirt, fingers plucking at tender n*****s as his lover laughs and tries to twist away. “Where do you think you’re going?” Krish wants to know.
Dane’s reply is a kiss, another, and soon it’s just lips pressed together in a velvet crush, tongues licking along heated flesh, hands thrust beneath clothing until they’re both hard and aching for release. Dane’s shirt pulls free from his waistband and is pushed up to his neck, out of the way, as Krish traces the planes of his lover’s stomach, swirls his tongue around his belly button, and licks down the trail of light-colored hair leading the way into his lover’s pants.
His own jeans are u
