“We should practice kissing.” Leo watched Dak’s face carefully. One hint of revulsion and he’d back down. He didn’t want to alienate his best friend. He wanted to help.

Dakota let out a breath. “That was not what I was expecting you to say.”

“What were you expecting?” Leo surreptitiously wiped his hands on his jeans.

“That we should get promise rings or something completely ridiculous.” Dakota flexed his fingers. “Or buy matching pink shirts.” He cocked his head. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You already own a pink shirt.”

Leo scowled. “Pink is a completely functional color.”

“On a construction company boss?”

“No one’s ever said anything to me about it.” Leo defended himself. He liked that particular button-down shirt. He looked good in it.

Dakota snorted. “That’s because even when you wear a pink shirt, you look like you could snap spines in half without breaking a sweat.”

“So what? I work out. Are you going to consider my idea, or not?” Leo asked, trying to head off further talk about his wardrobe. Talking about a pink shirt with his best friend was gay, not owning one.

Dakota sat up. “You were serious?”

Leo nodded. “Of course.” His gaze dropped to his friend’s mouth. He tried to tell himself he was examining Dakota’s lips clinically, for information purposes, but his skin tingled when he considered what it might be like to put his mouth there. “I mean, I’ve never kissed a dude. I have no idea what it’s like.”

Dakota stared at him. “You’re actually serious about this.”

“Have you kissed a guy?” Leo asked, swallowing past an unexpected lump in his throat. If Dakota had kissed a man, he decided he would be pissed because his best friend had never told him about it.

Yeah. That’s totally why.

“No.” Dakota looked away.

“No, you won’t kiss me, or no, you’ve never kissed a dude?” Leo shifted closer. He could smell the last vestiges of Dakota’s cologne, mostly worn off after a day of teaching.

Dakota reached for his water bottle and uncapped it. He took a long swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Leo stared. How in the hell did Dak make that move look so suggestive? His lips were puffy now.

“No, I’ve never kissed a guy,” Dakota said clearly, putting the bottle back down. His blue eyes were almost black in the low light. The sun had set an hour ago, and neither of them had bothered to turn on more than the single lamp near the sofa.

Leo took a deep breath, feeling weirdly wired. The inside of his skull buzzed with static. He couldn’t form a coherent thought right now if someone paid him good money. “Okay, then.”

Dakota quirked an eyebrow. “Okay.” He had a half-smile going on his face.

Leo relaxed minutely when he saw Dakota’s familiar expression. He couldn’t remember how many times that look had dared him into trouble. “You’d better not punch me,” he muttered, reaching up to cup Dakota’s cheeks.

Dakota huffed. “You’d pound me if I tried.”

Leo didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to figure out how to put his mouth in the right spot. For some reason, his body wasn’t obeying him right now. Just get on with it, you idiot, he told himself. His cock had thickened, making his jeans moderately uncomfortable. What the fuck was wrong with him? This was practice, nothing more.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dakota said, impatiently leaning closer. He kissed Leo on the mouth, light and fast.

His lips feel like pillows. Leo flinched, more at the absurd thought than from the taste of his best friend on his tongue. “Jesus.”

Dakota sat back. “There. Are you happy now? This was your idea.”

He doesn’t seem to have any trouble speaking, Leo thought irritably. “No. I’m not done.” He leaned in, this time grabbing Dak’s face. He kissed him, no fooling around this time. He nibbled on the side of Dakota’s mouth until he gasped, then slid his tongue inside. When Dakota moaned under his breath, Leo shuddered, sliding his hands down his friend’s chest. The bump of Dak’s nipple rings beneath his fingertips made his dick twitch.

“You taste like cinnamon,” he murmured, sucking on Dak’s lower lip. Leo wanted to do a hell of a lot more than suck. He wanted to bite. He sat back, sucking air. What the fuck just happened?

Dakota was staring at him, mouth open and wet.

“Christ.” Leo leaned in again, kissing him savagely. He hauled Dakota over until they fell back onto the couch. Dakota’s breath whooshed out when he fell along Leo’s body, legs on either side. They both froze as their erections brushed each other.

“Oh my freaking God,” Dakota said, shaking. His hands pressed into Leo’s shoulders.

“This isn’t funny. Don’t you dare fucking laugh,” Leo told him, low and vicious. “I can’t fucking think.” He’d never been so turned on in his entire life.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Dakota asked, hair a tangled mess. His eyes glittered. “You had your tongue down my throat.” His voice shook.

You look desperate. Leo didn’t say the words out loud, because he still couldn’t breathe. How could he talk when he couldn’t get enough air in his damned lungs? When Dakota’s hips twitched, Leo swallowed. Hard. Dakota’s dick dug into Leo’s hip like a fucking brand. Leo wanted more than a kiss, God help him.