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Summary
It isn’t until TK is on top, lavishing Carlos’ neck, stroking his hand up his side, that Carlos brings their faces together, barely a suggestion of a kiss between them. He holds TK’s jaw and keeps him close whilst he readies the question in his mind. He breathes out a straightforward and tempting, “fuck me,” over TK’s lips which silences the world outside their bedroom.
TK’s response whenever he’s asked for this has few variations between immediate enthusiastic compliancy and the sweet reassurance he knows Carlos is dying for. The answer is always yes.
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The evening after TK gets his one month sobriety chip.
