There was a time and a place for quick, hard sex and Nicky enjoyed it, but it wasn't how he preferred it. Nine hundred years had given him an appreciation of patience and the slow burn of prolonged promise. He and Joe could make themselves last all day. Slow, lazy make outs on the couch. Little touches in the most innocent of places, packed with promise and hidden intent. A word murmured against an ear or the back of the neck, fingertips stealing a covert touch of bare skin.

If Booker wanted to make out and indulge, Nicky certainly wasn't going to stop him. In fact, he encouraged him, humming softly against the other man's lips as he threaded the fingers not on Booker's cock through his hair.