He was starved for oxygen and starved for touch and starving for a chance to let go. Time and time again—not just tonight, not even just these past couple of days but the whole time they’d been doing this, Marsh had been putting himself out there. He’d made himself vulnerable. He’d asked for what he wanted and given so much more, and Greg had been holding everything back, too terrified to leave himself open like that. He’d been so caught up in looking confident and powerful, because he’d felt anything but. Meanwhile, he’d left Marsh floundering, as uncertain as Greg had been. He’d been such a fool. The seconds passed, one after another as he knelt between Marsh’s legs, finally asking for what he’d wanted all along. To let go and let someone else take him and possess him. To be vulnerable. Marsh stared at him, eyes wide with lust, grip barely on the right side of too tight. And Greg just blinked in return, scarcely breathing, waiting. When Marsh’s answer came it was a bitten-off groan, and for a moment Greg floundered, but then Marsh was reeling him in, lifting him and turning him, pushing him down until he was on his back on the bed.
