Michael was in a daze. His mind whirled and he couldn’t keep a thought in his head. Any time he tried, he was overcome with sensation and the thought went skipping away. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this: relaxed and aroused and breathless with anticipation. After the stress of the past year, it was a good feeling.
He gasped as Alex pulled back, breaking their kiss. His head spun, face hot and flush as he gazed up at Alex, who hovered over him, looking at him fondly.
“You still with me?” he asked, voice low and graveled.
“Yeah,” Michael panted. He pulled Alex back down.
They were stretched out on the bed of a cheap hotel in Costa Rica. For countless minutes, Alex had had him pinned to the bed, body pressed to Michael’s. But the weight wasn’t what was keeping Michael dazed and trapped. No, Michael was being held in place by the studious application of long, slow, deep kisses.
They were both shirtless, skin pressed against skin, sweat prickling between them as Alex pressed his mouth to Michael’s and kissed. Deep and probing. Slow and languid. When they broke apart from a long kiss, Alex would press a gentle, almost chaste kiss on Michael’s lips. Or suck on his lower lip. Or nip his upper, sending shivers down Michael’s spine. Then, he would dive back in for another slow, toe curling kiss that would leave Michael panting and trembling.
He couldn’t stop moving his hands. He stroked up Alex’s back. Felt along his spine, restless and full of energy. He wanted more, wanted something stronger, but Alex kept him on edge with this softness. Soft touches, soft kisses, soft tongue. It was driving Michael insane.
They’d been kissing forever. Michael didn’t know the last time he had been kissed like this. Just these long, mind bending kisses without any other touches besides Alex’s hand on his side. Stroking down Michael’s torso, tracing the tattoo, along his ribs, over his waist, and then down, down to the edge of the towel Michael had wrapped around him.
Everything was so hazy. He’d gotten to the hotel. Alex had shown up, surprising him. They’d stood, pressed together for several moments before Michael had pulled back, his need for a shower outweighing his need for contact.
He’d showered, hot water cascading down his skin, washing away the dirt and grime of Sona. He’d gotten out, tingling all over in anticipation, and wrapped the towel around him. Stepped out of the bathroom.