One of Dylan’s hands reached to twine fingers into Martin’s hair, which had grown a bit longer than he once wore it. Dylan twisted, though not enough to hurt, although with demand and clear intent. At the pressure, Martin found his face turned close to Dylan’s before the other man’s mouth crushed against his. He gave a strangled gasp, parting his lips enough to allow Dylan’s tongue to slide between them and into Martin’s mouth. The touch, both invasive and erotic, felt like liquid flame. He kissed back with every iota of his being.
At last, Dylan raised his head enough they could both breathe again. “We need to take this upstairs to my room. If you’re willing, that is…”