Marcus slammed the book shut so hard the spine cracked. "This enemies-to-lovers bullshit is garbage. No one actually hates someone that much and then suddenly wants their dick."
Derek leaned against the bookstore counter, smirking like he owned the place. "Says the guy whos read every gay enemies-to-lovers book on the shelf twice. Face it, you get off on the hate. Just like me."
Theyd been circling each other for monthssame apartment building, same gym, same fucking taste in filthy romance novels. Every time Marcus saw Dereks smug face he wanted to punch it. Or pin it. The line blurred more every week.
Tonight the store was empty, rain hammering the windows. Derek had cornered him in the back aisle, holding up the latest release like a challenge. "Bet you fifty bucks you cant read the hate-fuck scene out loud without getting hard."
Marcus snatched the book. "Fuck you."
"Exactly the point."
He opened to the marked page and started reading, voice low and rough. The words were filthytwo rivals slamming each other against a wall, belts yanked open, cocks pulled out and stroked hard while they spat insults. Marcuss own cock twitched in his jeans. Derek stepped closer, breath hot on his neck.
"Keep going," Derek ordered.
Marcus read the next line: "He hated how good the other mans hand felt around his dick." His voice cracked. Dereks palm pressed flat against Marcuss erection through denim.
"Still hate me?" Derek asked, squeezing.
"More than ever." Marcus dropped the book, grabbed Derek by the throat, and kissed him like he wanted to draw blood. Teeth clashed. Tongues fought. Derek shoved him backward into the stockroom, kicked the door shut, and dropped to his knees.
He yanked Marcuss jeans open, freed his thick cock, and swallowed it to the root in one wet, greedy motion. Marcus groaned, fingers twisting in Dereks hair. "You fucking hate this, dont you? Choking on my dick like a slut."
Derek pulled off just long enough to answer. "I hate how good you taste." Then he went back down, throat working, spit dripping down Marcuss balls. Marcus thrust harder, fucking Dereks mouth while the rain drowned out the wet sounds.
Derek stood, spun Marcus around, and shoved his jeans down to his thighs. Two spit-slick fingers pushed inside without warning. Marcus hissed at the burn.
"Still hate me?" Derek growled against his ear, scissoring deep.
"Yes." Marcus pushed back onto the fingers anyway. "Hate you more when youre not fucking me."
Derek lined up and drove in with one brutal thrust. Marcuss forehead hit the wall. The stretch was perfectthick, relentless, exactly what hed been reading about for months. Derek fucked him hard, hips snapping, one hand wrapped around Marcuss cock to jerk him in time.
"Talk," Derek demanded.
"Tell me how much you hate it."
Marcus spat the words between gasps. "Hate your cock. Hate how deep you are. Hate that Im gonna come all over this fucking wall because of you."
Dereks rhythm turned savage. Every thrust punched a moan out of Marcus. Sweat slicked their skin. The only sounds were skin slapping skin and the filthy squelch of lube and spit. Derek reached around, thumbed the head of Marcuss cock, and Marcus came with a broken shout, stripes painting the drywall.
Derek followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding Marcuss ass with hot pulses. He stayed inside, breathing hard against Marcuss back.
After a long minute Marcus muttered, "Still hate you."
Derek laughed, low and rough. "Good. Means we can do it again tomorrow."
Marcus turned his head, caught Dereks mouth in a slower kiss, and for the first time didnt pull away when the kiss turned gentle. The rain kept falling. The books stayed on the shelves. And two enemies finally stopped pretending the heat between them was only on the page.
