Warning: Graphic description of male-male sex. Sequel to The Seduction.

Danny smiled his apology to Mr. Chaves as he quickly sidestepped to avoid the workman who was carrying a ladder and a box of light bulbs. The old man ignored him, looking as sour as he usually did when he arrived to replace a dead bulb somewhere in the building. Danny often wondered if the man had ever smiled.

When the special agent reached his desk he found it covered with a grey dropcloth and the lights over his desk missing.

"Great," he sighed. "Why do these things always happen to me?" he asked, although there was no one there to answer him.

Skirting around his tarp-draped chair, he glanced around the office area. And it looked like he was the only lucky one – of course. Everyone else's workspace was untouched. He sighed again, a little more heavily – architectural karma had struck him again. Then, he frowned. Where the hell is Martin?

His hands came up to rest on his hips in a gesture of frustration. Martin was supposed to be here. They had a report to finish. He checked his watch. Worse still, the man was late.

Glancing around at the rest of the unit again, he found no one else there to commiserate with, no one who might know where Martin was, or why his desk had been draped with paint-stained cloths, his lights absconded. Just how the hell was he supposed to get any work done under these conditions?

Muttering under his breath, he glanced over at his teammate's desk again. Martin's space was completely clear of cloths and he had lights… and his computer was on, which meant that the report should be up and available.

After a moment's hesitation, Danny stalked over, pulled Martin's chair out, and sat down with a sigh.

He frowned again, watching the screen saver – a weird plasma-like design that warped and twisted across the screen in a shifting rainbow of colors like someone was trying to capture the Northern Lights. It was almost hypnotic. He shook his head.

Martin almost always made sure he turned his computer off when he left it for any length of time. But then again, Fitz shouldn't have gone anywhere for any length of time. Not when he was supposed to be here, meeting with Danny, as of fifteen minutes ago.

Maybe Martin was in talking to Jack again. He pushed himself up using the arms of the chair and took a look at Malone's office. It was empty.

Danny shook his head. He exactly wasn't sure what was going on between Martin and Jack, but there was definitely something in the air between them that needed to be cleared, and soon, in his humble opinion. All he was certain of was that it had something to do with the Reyes shooting.

He shook his head, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind. They inevitably left him feeling protective of Fitzgerald, and that was just way too unsettling to think about for any length of time. Besides, he needed to get this report finished and sent to Jack ASAP or he'd end up in the doghouse right along with Martin. So, taking a deep breath, he forced himself to move on to the business at hand.

Danny touched Martin's mouse and the screen saver disappeared, replaced by the desktop.

The frown returned. There was a folder sitting in the exact center of the screen, a folder that was labeled "Danny."

"What the hell is this?" the agent wondered, then he smiled. Martin must have known he was going to be late and he must have put the report in the folder so Danny could find it easily. That was damn considerate of you, Fitz.

He double-clicked on the folder to open it, but all he found inside was a single file: Readme.

His frown edging back, Danny double-clicked on the file and a popup window appeared, asking him for a password.

"What? How the hell am I supposed to know what the password is?" he grumbled at the screen.

Leaning back in the chair, Danny glowered at the screen and tried to imagine what kind of password Martin would use that the man assumed he could guess. So he tried "Danny" and "Taylor," which he thought were the most obvious choices Martin should have used. Then "DannyTaylor" and "report" but those didn't work either.

Becoming frustrated, he typed in "doghouse," but that failed to work as well. He huffed and then growled at the absent man, "Damn it, Martin, I'm not a freakin' mind reader."

What the hell else would he use? Danny wondered, then tried "Martin" and "Fitzgerald" and, finally, "Harvard."

Still nothing that worked. "Martin, I'm going to make you pay for this," he muttered. Trying "Seattle," "NewYork," "BigApple," and "Jacksreport." Still nothing. He sighed heavily and tried "silverspoon," "daddysboy" and "yourapaininmyass!"

A new popup window appeared with the last, announcing, "Don't you wish."

What the hell's that supposed to mean? Danny wondered, but he had a bad feeling he already knew. Damn, when had he tripped up and let Martin know what he was thinking and feeling?

He looked back at the screen. Below the comment was: "Very good. It only took you 15 tries."

"Fuck you, Fitz," he grumbled.

There was a button at the bottom of the window: "Have you sent the report to Jack yet?" and two options: Yes or No.

Danny stabbed the "No" button.

"That's what I figured," a new window said. And, at the bottom, another button labeled "Send completed report to Jack now."

He positioned the cursor and smacked the bottom, mumbling, "How much time did you waste to annoy me?"

A moment later a new window popped up appeared, but this time there were only two buttons on it: "Feeling Adventurous" and "I'm a Wimp."

With a derisive snort Danny clicked on the first one.

"Good!" the resulting window read. And below that the message: "Meet me at my place – ASAP."

Danny frowned. "What the hell are you up to, Fitz?" But he cleared the desktop of the popup windows and shut down the computer. With the report off to Jack he was free until Monday morning, so he might as well go see what the hell Martin was planning. He sighed and shook his head. Fitzgerald could be such a pain in the butt sometimes.

Oh, bad choice of words, he scolded himself. Fitzgerald's butt had become something of an obsession for him.

Standing, Danny pushed Martin's chair back under the desk, then took a last look around. Mr. Chaves was back with his ladder and light bulbs. At least it looked like he'd have his space back when he came in on Monday.

The man looked at Danny, scowling as usual and said, "Your light was just loose. That's why it was flickering. It's working fine now."

"Great, thank you," Danny said, wondering who had called him in the first place. He hadn't noticed anything wrong with the light earlier. He shook his head and headed out, planning to stop by Nancy's desk. She could give him Martin's home address.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Danny stared up at the apartment building, still trying to puzzle out what Martin could be up to. He flashed his badge and nodded to the security man at the door, then headed inside, going straight to the elevators. He waited a little impatiently for the car to arrive, then stepped inside and pressed the number for Martin's floor near the top of the building and leaned back against the rear wall of the car. Must be nice, he mused, impressed by the thick carpet under his feet and the fancy gilt on the walls.

He rode up alone, the piped in music making his toe tap. Way too hoity-toity for his taste, he told himself. Then the doors began to open and he slipped past them and hurried down the hallway to Fitzgerald's door.

He knocked.

There was no reply.

He frowned, a buzz starting up in his gut. Something wasn't right. He checked the knob and, to his great surprise, found the door unlocked.

He turned the brass handle and pushed the door open, then stepped inside and called, "Martin?"

He found several candles burning on a table in the entryway, the melting wax filling the space with a pleasant aroma. "Martin?" he called again, completely confused.

He pulled the door closed, locked it, and drew his gun before he started down the hallway. As he passed the living room he glanced in, but it was completely dark and empty. The same was true of the kitchen, a small dining room and what looked like Martin's at-home office. He was confused. It didn't feel like anything was wrong, but where the hell was Martin?

Reaching the door at the end of the hall, he hesitated. He knew it had to be the bedroom. He huffed out a breath, trying to ignore the jolt of desire that shot through his groin. How had he ever let himself become attracted to a man? To a coworker. To Martin 'Fuckin'' Fitzgerald, for Christ's sake?

He reached out and pushed the door open while standing to the side so he would be out of the line of fire if there was a hostile in the room. "Hey, Martin, you in there?"

There was still no reply.

"Damn it," he hissed under his breath. What was Fitzgerald playing at?

He leaned forward quickly, stealing a peek into the room. Burning candles had been scattered over the dresser and other furniture, their low flames casting a warm glow throughout the space. The bed had been turned down.

He swallowed hard, telling himself that Martin was getting ready for a hot date and had just forgotten he'd asked Danny to stop by. Yeah, that had to be it, right?

"Hey, Fitz, you in there?" he called. "What the hell's going on, m'man?"

He still got no answers.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Danny slipped into the room. He moved around, trying to piece the clues together. Two flutes of what looked like champaign were setting on the nightstand, along with a small box, opened to reveal six expensive-looking chocolate truffles. Soft Cuban jazz was playing on the expensive stereo system.

"Martin?" he called hesitantly, hoping now that the man wasn't home after all. Maybe he could escape before Fitzgerald stepped out of his bathroom wearing nothing but a towel – if he was lucky – at any moment. And when he did, he'd freak when he saw Danny standing there in his bedroom, ogling him like some sex-starved madman. "Damn it, Martin, if this is your idea of a joke…"

And the missing agent did step out of the bathroom, but he was wearing a thick fleece robe, dark blue in color, satin trim in the same color ringed the cuffs and collar. Danny's mouth immediately went dry and he couldn't help but stare at the long V of flesh that was exposed by the half-open flaps of the robe, running from the hollow of the man's throat to his belly button.

"Took you long enough," Martin said, walking to the bed and sitting down on the edge. He picked up one of the flutes and held it out for Danny, who stumbled forward, his mind racing. What the hell was going on here? What kind of stunt was Fitzgerald pulling?

Martin waited for a moment, then set the flutes back down and stood, crossing to Danny. "Well, I know that's not a gun in your pocket, since your gun's in your hand – you can put that up now, you know – so I guess you are happy to see me."

Danny blushed furiously and the brief thought of shooting the son-of-a-bitch raced through his mind. But he wanted to fuck the man far more than he wanted to kill him. "Martin–" he started, but Fitzgerald interrupted him, pointing to the open bathroom door.

"It's all ready for you," he said, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Ready?" Danny asked, sliding his gun back into its holster. "Ready for what?"

"Have some of this first," Martin said, walking back to retrieve the two glasses, carrying them back to Danny, who was too dumbfounded to move. "It's non-alcoholic."

Danny accepted the flute and lifted it to his lips without thinking. Taking a gulp, he was surprised to find that it was an expensive brand of fake bubbly. He took another swallow and allowed Martin to shuffle him off to the bathroom.

"Come on, man," Fitzgerald said, "time's wasting."

And then the door was closed behind him and Danny was glancing around the bathroom where more candles burned and the bottle of the virgin champaign waited, chilling in a bucket of ice chips on the counter. A robe was waiting for him, rich forest green, and a wonderful aroma rose with the steam from the shower, the hot water already running for him.

He finished off his drink with a gulp and then set the flute down and undressed, stepping into the shower. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was home, in bed, sleeping, and dreaming. Yeah, that made more sense that anything that was happening to him. He had to be dreaming. And if he was, well, then, there was no reason he shouldn't enjoy it, right?

Danny scrubbed and, curiosity climbing, stepped out, grabbed a towel and dried himself off.

Picking up the green robe, he pulled it on, knotted the belt, and looked for some underwear, but there was nothing there besides the thick robe. Well, fine. If Martin only gave him a robe to wear, then he'd only wear the robe. He grinned. It looked like this might be the start of a damn good dream.

He refilled his glass and opened the door, carrying his flute and the bottle out into the bedroom.

Martin was sitting on the bed, just finishing off his own glass. He grinned when he saw the bottle in Danny's hand and held out his flute so Taylor could refill it, which he did, saying, "This stuff is better than I expected."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Martin, what's the hell's going on?" Danny asked him.

"Why don't you go put that back in the ice," Fitzgerald said instead of answering him.

Danny sighed and took the bottle back to the ice bucket and ground it into the chips. Stepping back out into the bedroom he snapped, "I want an answer, Martin."

But the man refused to answer, gesturing for Danny to take a seat on the edge of the bed, which he did, both of them sliding their glasses onto the nightstand.

"Here, try one of these," Martin said, picking up the small box of chocolates and holding it out to the man.

Danny sighed, a little frustrated, but he decided to play along. Besides, he was curious if he'd taste anything when he ate in his dream. He reached out, picked one of the candies at random and tried a bite. "Mmm, that's good," he said, pleasantly surprised. He popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and chewed, his eyes closing in delight.

It was then that Martin made his move, leaning in and kissing Danny lightly on the lips.

The Cuban's eyes shot open, rounded with surprise, but they immediately dropped closed again when Martin deepened the kiss, both men's lips and tongues quickly becoming coated with the sweet candy. Their breaths grew more and more ragged as they explored and tasted each other.

Danny whimpered softly when Martin finally pulled away, grinning as he reached for two more of the chocolates. He popped one of them into his mouth and held the other up for Danny, who started to reach for the candy, but it was jerked away. Then he realized what it was Martin wanted him to do.

Danny opened his mouth and allowed Fitzgerald to push the chocolate inside, but he closed his lips on Martin's fingertips, sucking on them as the man pulled them out. Blue eyes rounded slightly with surprise, but Danny knew the action didn't turn Fitzgerald on the way it would him if Martin ever decided to do that to him. Too bad. You'd think if this was his dream, Martin would be excited by anything he did. Leave it to Fitz to be obstinate, even in a freakin' dream.

They chewed their truffles, then swallowed and leaned in, their lips meeting, tongues beginning to explore once more. Both men were more confident this time, more daring, and they sucked on each other's lips, their tongues dueling until they were both breathless and hard.

The second time they parted, they each reached for their flutes, gulping the bubbling liquid down.

Martin's eyes were sparkling brighter than the drink as he grinned at Danny, asking, "Still hungry? There's one left for each of us."

"Think I'll wait," Taylor replied. "Don't think I'd make it through another kiss like that last one without getting your bathrobe messy." He held Martin's eyes and asked, "You sure about this?"

"I wouldn't be trying to seduce you if I wasn't."

"Trying?" Taylor asked, smiling weakly. "You've more than succeeded m'man.

Martin smiled, remembering Danny's toast in his dream, which was coming true beyond his wildest imaginings. He picked up his glass and raised it, waiting until the other man did the same, then he tapped his rim against Danny's and said, "Here's to trying, then… and succeeding."

Danny chuckled softly and leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on the soft material at the shoulder of Martin's robe. "Maybe I will have that last piece."

"Later," Martin growled, shifting his weight forward, eyes open as he brushed Danny's lips lightly. Then he closed his eyes, crushing his mouth against the other man's. At the same time, Martin's hand slipped past the folds of Danny's robe, his palm rubbing lightly over the man's smooth chest and hard nipples.

Danny groaned. Definitely a good dream.

Images from his own dream swamped through Martin and he started to tremble with excitement. He knew this was his moment; he either crossed the Rubicon, or he failed. He really did have to stop thinking for once and allow himself to just feel; let his heart lead his head for once.

But that was easier said than done. Expressing his feelings had never come easily to him; had never been welcome in his father's home now or while he'd been growing up. He'd learned too quickly how to hide his emotions, but he did feel things deeply, too deeply sometimes. He just couldn't seem to open up and risk his heart with someone. But Danny Taylor was different. Martin trusted Danny like he'd never trusted another living soul. And it was well past the time for him to open up and love.

And when Danny reached out, his hand stealing across Martin's touch-starved skin, making his aching cock begin to weep, he knew he was making the right decision. But if he didn't act quickly, he was going to lose the upper hand and then he would be at the mercy of Danny, and he had a bad feeling that Special Agent Taylor wouldn't show him any mercy.

Later, he decided. Right now I'm staying in control.

Martin's fingertips closed around the hard nub of Danny's nipple and he squeezed and tugged, making Taylor growl at the back of his throat, his head arching back, his chest pressing into the sensations being visited upon him.

"Oh, yeah," he heard Danny whisper.

Martin pressed against the man's chest, forcing him back onto the bed and following so he was stretched out alongside Taylor, his hands and mouth attacking the man's skin.

Danny arched and twisted under Martin, rendered helpless by the waves of pleasure. Even his arms refused to obey when he willed them to reach up and touch Martin in return. They felt leaden, weighed down by the languid ecstasy pouring through his veins. "Martin, let up a little," he breathed. "I can't think when you're doin' that."

"Shhh," Martin said, pulling the forest green robe open more and leaning over to lick at the second hard nub he uncovered. "I'm busy here." His lips closed on the hard flesh and he nibbled gently.

"Ah, Christ, Martin, " Danny gasped, fingers curling into the sheets. "You're killin' me here…" His eyes closed as he reveled in the pleasure. Then he felt Martin reach down and tug the knot on his robe loose, cool air racing up his naked body when the thick cloth was thrown open. His cock sprang up, demanding attention, and he only hoped that Martin would respond.

"God, you're beautiful," Martin moaned, his hand closing around Danny's thick shaft.

"Oh, shit!" Danny yelped when Martin's hand began to move. "Easy, Tiger, easy," he panted. "You've got my control shot to hell."

"I want you to lose control," Martin told him. "I want you to make me lose control."

Danny's eyes opened at that and he stared up at the man above him, blue eyes hungry and… and a little frightened, he realized. Martin was putting it all on the line here. He himself had so many questions, but he didn't know where to start. Besides, this wasn't the time.

Oh no, definitely not the time. Danny groaned, long and low, when Martin swallowed him, his tongue stroking the underside of his shaft, his fingers fondling his balls. Time ceased to exist, Danny trapped in an endless moment defined by the pleasure being visited on his aching, weeping cock.

Taylor heard Martin reaching for something and opened his eyes to see what it was, but before he could really focus, Martin's lips were back around his cock again and he didn't really care what it was Fitzgerald had been reaching for. That is, until he heard the sound of a wrapper being torn open and both hands and lips were suddenly gone from his body.

"Danny," Martin said, his voice raspy with need.

Taylor's eyes opened.

Martin rolled the condom down over Danny's cock, saying, "I want you. Inside me. Now."

Danny swallowed hard and nodded. He pulled himself up and shrugged out of his robe. Once that was out of the way, Martin handed him a tube of KY and Danny squeezed out some of the clear gel, rubbing it over the condom's surface. He looked at Fitzgerald and asked, "You sure about this?"

"More sure than I've been about anything," Martin said, lying face down on the bed and offering himself up to the man.

When the first rain of kisses fell across his back, Martin moaned, grinding his cock against the mattress. And when Danny's slick fingertip began tapping at the most intimate spot Martin could imagine, he whined his need. He'd never let anyone–

Thoughts broke and scattered when Danny pressed just inside the rim of tight muscle, igniting a passion inside Martin like nothing he'd ever felt before. He gasped, unable to breathe. "Danny," he cried, fear and longing warring in his blood. He knew he was lost. His control had been stripped away, rational thought lost in the explosions of molten pleasure erupting through his groin. But still the fear remained. He whimpered softly.

"Easy," Danny soothed, pushing his finger in deeper while he leaned over and rained more kisses across Martin's shoulders. "I won't hurt you."

The words weren't really necessary, Martin already too lost in the intriguing sensations assailing him to stay the man. The ring of muscle began to loosen, Danny's finger diving deeper, exploring, stretching, every touch sparking a new pleasure that Martin had never felt before.

One finger was soon replaced by two, scissoring, stretching.

Martin lifted his hips up off the bed, giving Danny better access to him, his body jerking and shaking with excitement, his penis swelling painfully, aching for relief. And then he was empty and, bereft of the stimulating digits, he loudly mewed his displeasure.

Danny chuckled in response, moving between Martin's legs. He lifted Martin's hips a little higher and pressed his condom-sheathed cock against the exposed pink pucker. Then, grabbing the base of his shaft, he leaned over the man, forcing himself past the rim of muscle and sliding into the impossibly hot, tight channel. "Ahhh," he groaned loudly, Martin echoing the sound.

"Oh, God," Danny breathed. "Oh, yes." He pushed in farther, trying to go slowly so he wouldn't hurt Martin, but it was nearly impossible. And Martin wasn't helping, bearing back against him, driving him in faster than he otherwise would have gone. "Easy, Martin," he ground out. "I don't want to hurt you." But he was unable to heed his own advice, plunging into the tight embrace until he was fully buried inside the man.

They both went still then, each adjusting to the sensations rocking through him. Then, without a word passing between them, they began moving in a waltz as old as time. Images and sensations from Martin's dream and from his current reality mixed and blended, enhancing the experience. He moaned and whimpered, his body lost to his conscious control. He belonged to Danny.

Sweat quickly coated both their bodies, their breaths coming faster and faster. Grunts and moans bounced off the walls and, finally, as tightly joined as they could get, they came, first Danny – the feel of the man coming triggering Martin's own release – great shuddering gasps the only "words" passing between them.

Riding out the afterglow, Danny lightly stroked Martin's back as he waited to soften enough to pull free. And when he finally slipped out, he pulled the condom off and dropped it into the wastebasket next to the nightstand, then collapsed onto the bed beside Martin, who had turned over and was now staring up at the ceiling, a somewhat dopey look on his face.

"I think we better hit the shower, m'man," Danny asked, running his hand over Martin's arm and chest, the gesture feeling oddly possessive. And he liked the idea that Fitzgerald might be his. Time would tell.

"No kidding," Martin breathed, not sure he'd be able to move again for a week – at least.

"Martin," Danny said, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness.

"Hmm?"

"You've never done that before, have you?"

"No," Martin said. "You?"

There was a long pause as Danny decided how much to trust him. "Yeah… A couple of times, but it was a long, long time ago – another life."

"You don't have to talk about it," Martin told him.

Taylor considered that a moment, then replied, "I think I'd like to… sometime."

"I'd like to hear it, when you're ready."

Danny smiled. "Thanks."

"Think you'll let me do that to you?" Martin asked him.

Danny chuckled softly. "Depends on when."

"Well, it sure as hell won't be anytime soon," was the immediate reply. "Hell, I'll be lucky if I can crawl to the bathroom."

"I know exactly what you mean," Danny said.

And getting off the bed was just as hard as they had expected, but they managed it, stumbling into the bathroom, relieving themselves and then stepping into the shower, washing away the visible reminders of their lovemaking under the hot water spraying from two heads.

"Nice," Danny commented on the arrangement.

Martin grinned and nodded. "One of the selling points."

They stepped out, dried and then headed back to the bedroom, Danny grabbing the bottle of non-alcoholic champaign on his way out of the bathroom. He filled their empty flutes, which finished off the bottle, so he set it in the wastebasket as well.

They lifted their glasses, toasting each and draining the glasses.

Danny climbed back into bed first, grimacing when he found the wet spot. Martin grinned at his expression, offering, "Get out, man, I'll change the sheets."

Taylor shook his head, too tired to care.

Sliding in next to the handsome Cuban, Martin reached over and grabbed the small box with the last two chocolates in it. He held it out and Danny took one of the candies, depositing it on his tongue and pulling it inside his mouth where he let it melt slowly on his tongue.

Martin popped the last piece into his own mouth, letting the chocolate begin to melt on his tongue before he lost patience, chewed it up, and swallowed it. Then he leaned over and kissed Danny, whose mouth opened, letting him sample the lingering taste of raspberry truffle.

"Mmm," Martin said, licking over the man's teeth.

Danny's arms encircled him, pulling him tight against his side. When they parted he said, "I'm yours, you know… If you want to keep me.

"You are?" Martin asked, surprised.

Danny nodded. "Yep."

The reverse was true as well. He belonged to Danny, heart and soul. There was no use denying it. "Goes both ways," he said softly. "Think you can put up with me?"

Danny's brow furrowed. "Well," he said, "I guess it'll take a little work, but… yeah, I think so."

"Smart ass."

"Guess you'll find out," Taylor replied, wagging his eyebrows.

Martin sighed and rolled his eyes.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Martin awoke to the feel of hands rubbing lightly over his lower belly and his thighs. He trembled, floating up to awareness wrapped in a cloud of pleasure. He could feel himself beginning to swell with arousal, but for a time it was hard to tell exactly where he ended and Danny's hands began.

That apprehended his attention, and his brow furrowed, trying to find the edges.

"Stop thinking so much," Danny scolded softly. "I don't want you to think, Martin, I want you to feel." He squeezed the man again. "Do you feel that?"

"Yeah… Oh, yeah, I feel that," Martin breathed airily.

"How 'bout this?" Danny asked, rubbing his thumb over the small slit on Martin's cock head, catching a drop of precome and spreading it over the sensitive skin.

"Yeah," Martin gulped, "I feel that, too."

"Good," Danny replied, continuing to circle his thumb a few more times before he shifted down on the bed and touched his lips to the weeping crown.

Martin gasped loudly, unable to think any more. His cock jumped in Danny's mouth, and he felt his hips grinding his ass into the mattress as he whimpered Taylor's name over and over.

When he was right on the brink, Danny backed off a little.

"You like?" Taylor asked him.

"Oh, yeah, I like," Martin panted. "I like a lot." Then he sighed and added, "I finally got past those damn locks."

"Locks?" Danny asked, beginning to stroke Martin again.

"Mmm," Martin replied, gasping when Danny leaned in, kissing and licking his cock again, the contact making Fitzgerald shudder. "The locks… on… my heart," he said, lifting his hips. "I lost the key… a long… time ago."

"Know what? Think I found it," Danny said, lifting his head, fingers fondling the writhing man's balls. Then he nibbled along the underside of Martin's cock, leaving the man shaking with pleasure and need.

"Danny, please," he begged.

He knew what Martin wanted, so he opened his mouth and set about devouring the last shadows of those locks.

And Martin couldn't do anything more than whimper and jerk on the bed while he was carried to the brink of orgasm and flung off. He pumped out his load into Danny's mouth, unaware of anything but the freeing explosion of bliss that continued to rock through his body in waves when he slumped back against the mattress and panted for breath.

When he could think again, even a little, he reached for Danny, saying, "My turn."

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