Lust (Saints & Sinners #1)

Chapter 9

9

LUKE

M aybe I was a little overdramatic when I told Brad I might die if he left.

But it hurts so goddamn much, even worse once he got here.

Since our talk at the church, I thought distance would give me time to get my head around everything we’d discussed, but it’s only made concentrating—on our conversation and schoolwork—that much more of a struggle.

As soon as I grabbed him, I felt soothed, and now that he’s lying on top of me, his tongue sweeping across mine before he nibbles at my bottom lip, it feels like we’re levitating.

Knowing he’s not a total douchebag makes it easier to let him take control, but given how intense these sensations are, I suspect even if he was an ass, I’d still be begging him to end my agony, even if it meant complete and utter humiliation.

Each kiss morphs the shaking from my Brad withdrawal into trembling with excitement for what he’ll do to me next. I run my fingers through the hairs along the back of his neck as his lips travel to my chin, which he bites at before kissing down my neck. He crawls back, continuing the trail of kisses down my body. When his mouth reaches my abs, my stomach vibrates with eagerness as he runs his nose against my navel, then offers a kiss and a lick beside it as he unfastens my fly. His movements demonstrate he’s a fucking expert, the sex god I’ve heard about.

He pulls away from my body long enough to remove my jeans and boxers, discarding them beside the bed. Even though he’s not touching me, the time we’ve spent locking lips has given my body enough assurance to quiet those painful sensations.

He strips off his shirt before resuming kissing, licking, nibbling at my abs, his hands gripping my sides, sliding across my flesh, exploring, every inch he covers offering my body the promise that it’ll get what it needs and there’s no reason to worry or fear.

He kisses up to my chest and licks around my nipple, stimulating the nerves so much, I arch my back.

“Fuck, yes, Brad.”

He chuckles. “Does my Straight Boy like that?” he whispers against my flesh.

I blush. “Don’t be mean.” Feels ridiculous to think I was ever so adamant about being straight, considering how hungry I am for him to show me his secrets. All of them.

“Really? I think it’s hot.” He gazes up at me, a slick smile on his face. “My Straight Boy getting all hard for me.” He crawls back down, pressing his lips against my shaft, then licking. “Throbbing for me.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, my lips practically buzzing with excitement.

He runs his tongue up and down my cock, which pulls off my abdomen, straining at an angle from how worked up he’s got me. He finally takes me into his mouth, his lips and wet tongue sliding across my flesh as he works me up even more, reminding me of what we shared at Alpha Alpha Mu’s party.

He releases my cock and says, “God, you taste so fucking good,” then slides off the bed and removes his pants and underwear. He tosses his clothes aside before climbing back on top of me, straddling my leg so that his cock runs alongside mine. He relaxes his forearms at my sides, pushes his weight against me, this intense heat radiating off him.

I thrust up against his pelvis, reveling in the sensation of skin against skin, and soon we’re both pushing against each other, finding our rhythm.

“You like that, Straight Boy?” he says, his smile spreading into a wide grin, clearly enjoying my little nickname.

“Fuck yeah.”

As painful as it was before we started messing around, now I feel playful and alive. All that shit weighing so heavily on me has dissolved—it’s impossible to think about it when I’m locked in this heightened state of excitement, eager to explore.

He leans down and kisses my throat again before grazing his teeth against it.

“How is it possible your mouth feels even more intense than when you touch me?” I ask. “Like it’s got a direct line to my cock.”

He lingers a while longer, his lips and tongue building that pressure in me so that I’m steadily thrusting, eager to get to release.

Being beneath him, his body a blanket over me, I feel sated, so far from the distressed headspace I was in when he first showed up to my room. With our bodies flush, his fat “magic cock” tight against me, I wonder what it would be like to take it. I’m not ready for it, but something in me—connected to the desire that draws me to him—assures me it’ll be explosive. If he gave it to me, would I ever be able to manage without it again? Or would the rest of my life be agony, knowing I’d already experienced the greatest pleasure possible?

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Brad asks because he must have sensed it. Even if he didn’t have this power, I doubt I could hide this from him. “You want to know if the rumors about me are true. If it’s really that good. You want to know what it feels like to have a cock inside you. To have a man opening you up. No, not just a man, but me .”

I should hate that he has access to my vulnerabilities and desires, but I’m so wrapped up in this moment, I don’t give a fuck as long as he gives me what I need.

“I know it’s too soon,” he says, “but promise me your ass. Tell me you’ll let me be the one. I promise I’ll be good to it.”

As his hot breath slams against my flesh, the combination of what he’s doing to my body and the fantasies he stirs takes me higher and higher.

“Promise me it’s mine,” he begs.

My eyes water like I’m fucking relieved he wants me all to himself, and though I know this uncontrollable, overwhelming lust that’s overtaken us is simply chemistry, I can’t help myself. “It’s yours, Brad. All yours.”

He sighs and growls as his lips return to mine, his tongue rewarding me for my surrender. Then he pulls away and says, “You like the idea of me building you into it? Easing me into you?”

The images he’s conjuring seize control of my thoughts. I can’t imagine what it’ll feel like to have a dick in me, but I’m fucking obsessed with the thought.

“Not sure how I’m gonna keep from blowing right into that virgin ass,” he says against my lips, licking when he’s done. His words are the promise of an adventure, but also torture because he’s not doing it to me.

I roll my head back against my comforter as waves of sensation course through me. When I thrust up against him, my cock throbs. I’ve never been this painfully hard without shooting, but I can tell by our pace that we’re both getting close. There’s a rhythm to it, but also an erratic frenzy. Our bodies seizing control, demanding release.

God, I need fucking release.

“I’m so close,” I warn him. My hands instinctively slide around his thick arms, caressing the smooth muscle before I grip them as though needing them to ground me before I take off.

He bites at my Adam’s apple, then nuzzles his face into my throat. “Give it to me, Luke. It’s mine .”

He sounds so fucking possessive, and part of me thinks I should hate it or resist it, but suddenly, it’s too fucking late for me. I gasp as the pressure mounts until the dam breaks.

Brad’s all lips and tongue against my neck as I feel a warm rush across my abdomen, my hips thrusting beyond my control to milk out every last bit. Once again, I notice I’m trembling, but this time, it’s obviously from the intensity of my orgasm.

Brad rises onto his knees, gripping his cock and jerking over me. His position, the way he pumps himself with a determined expression, makes it clear he knows what I want.

“All over me, Brad.”

“With pleasure.” He smirks before white streaks scatter, joining my cum on my abs. As it splatters against my flesh, it’s like the final bit of relief I so desperately needed. My muscles relax as I catch my breath.

Brad covers me again, putting his weight on me so I can feel him mashing our cum between us. As he nuzzles his face against my throat, I hook my arms around him, my body screaming, Fina-fucking-lly . For the past few days I’ve been in so much pain and on edge, but in this moment, I’m clear-headed, blissed out.

It’s even better than that first jerk-off together.

I’m utterly satisfied.

But as we lie there, breathing in sync, reveling in each other’s scent and body heat, I become aware that we’ll have to pry apart at some point, and that this magical moment will end.

I cling tighter because it doesn’t have to end.

Not just yet.

Eventually Brad stirs, and I’m willing to release him so he can roll off me. When the nagging pain doesn’t return, I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank fuck for that.

Brad lies beside me, still catching his breath.

It’s amazing not being lost in the fog I was in the past few days, but with this clarity comes the awareness of how out of control that experience was. It must be the same for Brad because one minute he was telling me my ass was his, and now he won’t even look me in the eyes.

Fair enough.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask.

“What you got?”

“Some of these canned margaritas. They’re pretty good.”

He nods. “I can do that.”

As I roll out of bed, I feel the sticky mess across my torso, and though I feel so ridiculous for how much I needed it, I have zero intention of wiping it off. Having part of Brad on me right now might be the only thing making me feel normal again.

I grab the margaritas from our mini fridge by Alexei’s desk.

Brad sits up on the bed, and I toss him a can before opening one for myself.

As awkward as he’s acting, it’s apparent, like I could have guessed by the way he prances around nude in the shower, that Brad may be awkward about some things, but his body isn’t one of them. And definitely not that cock he’s letting air out.

I take a sip of my drink before saying, “I kind of hate having to admit I finally get that those rumors about you aren’t rumors.”

He blushes. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” I tease. “Don’t act shy now.”

He laughs. “Frottage doesn’t really count. Not like we’ve been fucking. And I only said that stuff because I knew you’d think it was hot.”

“And you were right, even if you’re not exactly playing fair.”

His expression turns serious. “I told you, it’s not something I’m trying to do.”

“Jesus, Brad. Don’t make this more stressful than it already is. If I can’t make jokes, I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought up that stuff I was saying because obviously, that whole schtick about making you promise me your ass was just sex talk. I don’t actually expect you to do that.”

“You don’t want this Straight Boy ass?” I ask, angling it toward him.

He glares at me before taking a sip of his drink. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it. I just don’t feel like either of us is really in that much control when we’re messing around, so I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you to anything we say in those moments.”

I approach my bed. “What a gentleman. I wish I were as nice as you.”

His brow creases.

“Because if you think after what we’ve done so far, I’m not holding you to it, then you are out of your fucking mind.”

He chuckles, his gaze wandering. There’s this nervous energy about him. It’s a side of Brad that’s surprising me. Kind of refreshing since it’s such a contrast to the cocky bastard he made himself out to be during that first pickup game.

“I’m happy to hold up my end of that bargain,” he says.

When I reach the bed, I flex my back and do a few quick neck stretches before settling on the edge. “Christ, it’s wild how different it feels compared to when you got here tonight.”

“Tell me about it.”

“When I was thirteen and figured out what masturbation was, I thought it was this horrible thing I needed to stop doing, but the more I tried to stop, the more I had to rub one out. This reminds me of that experience but on steroids. Like the more I try to not think about it, the worse it gets.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Brad says.

“So, lesson learned: not doing anything isn’t an option.”

“I mean, it’s an option . A very painful one.”

It shouldn’t make me feel good knowing how much it hurts for him too, but I don’t even think it’s schadenfreude as much as assurance that the more it hurts for him, the less likely he is to deny me this thing I need. Now that I’m thinking rationally again, it’s clear the answer is simple: “While we figure out Cody’s visions, how about we agree to mess around, like, I don’t know, once a day? See if that makes things more tolerable?” I study his expression carefully, trying to read his answer, but he just stares at me. “Well?”

“You think I’m gonna say no to doing that once a day, Straight Boy?”

As I laugh, a smile plays across his lips.

“Then I’ll talk to Cody,” I tell him, “and we’ll sort this shit out, and then…go from there.” That’s the best I got right now. As he nods, he sets his drink between his legs, and I find myself resenting a fucking can for obscuring a part of his dick from me.

“That sounds like a plan I can get behind.”

“Please tell me that pun was intended.”

“Very much so.” He winks like he thinks he’s so goddamn clever, and I chuckle. It’s nice to be playful after spending the past few days struggling with pain and anxiety.

Although, I have a horrible feeling there’s plenty of pain and anxiety to come.