Part Two #2
He wasn’t going anywhere, not if Westin responded in kind. That was how it always went, but it had never made as much sense as it did now.
Westin inched forward to speak against that pout.
“Don’t I always give you what you want?” He slipped his hands into the back of Sun’s pants and discovered Sun hadn’t paused to put on any smalls either.
He kneaded hot, bare skin, enjoying Sun’s long shudder.
“I wanted you to linger in the bath. I liked thinking about it, even with those cuffs.”
“These cuffs?” Sun echoed innocently while pushing his backside into Westin’s hands. He turned his head for a moment, displaying his jewelry and looking sly when Westin kissed his neck. “You don’t like them?”
“Brat.” It was too strong, too loud, but Sun’s smile grew.
That meant the whole inn could hear them and Westin wouldn’t care.
Sun tipped his head up, displaying himself or those cursed cuffs.
Not even Westin stroking a fingertip over his hole could entirely wipe the smug pleasure from his face.
“You like them, I get it,” Westin told him, too caught up in an evening of revelations to spend time wondering at his harsh tone.
Even if he’d wanted to, Sun gave him no chance.
“I could get gold,” he murmured, watching Westin through slitted eyes. “You said I could.”
Westin let his voice be rough. “Are you asking me if you’re handsome enough or if you’re charming enough?”
Sun spread his knees, slipping down a little further onto Westin’s trapped cock while offering himself to Westin’s hands. His gaze was steady and serious. “You’d look good in gold, West. You’d look so good.”
Westin laughed without meaning to.
Sun’s eyes narrowed. He rose, and then Westin was shoved back and wrestled down.
It helped that Westin put up no fight, only returning his hands to Sun’s hips to steady him as he wound up on his back with Sun splayed on top of him.
The benches in Solace House booths were wide for a reason, but one wrong move and one or both of them would topple to the floor.
Sun was not light, either; even wiry muscle had heft.
Westin gripped him tight to keep Sun from falling, flattered that Sun took it for granted that he would.
Sun’s hips were pressed to his and his hands were on the cushioned seat by Westin’s head—in Westin’s hair, actually, although Westin could have pushed away if he’d wanted to.
He did not want to. Sun glared down at him. He was hard and Westin was on his way to match him there. The glare only made it worse.
“I said you would look good in gold.” The reprimand was heated. Then Sun was kissing him again, holding Westin still to have his mouth how he pleased.
Westin’s hands flexed. He didn’t have to pull Sun down against his cock, Sun was already rocking against him, small, impatient motions at odds with his coaxing tone.
“It would suit you,” he breathed against Westin’s jaw and then his neck, all the while grinding down against Westin until Westin was hard too.
Then he slowed and it felt purposeful. Maybe his plan was to leave Westin too riled to think clearly.
“If I were a noble and you were mine, you would smell like this and look like this all the time, and I’d cover you in gold.
” He scraped his teeth over Westin’s neck and then slipped his hands down to pull at Westin’s shirt.
“Cuffs and necklaces. Rings. I’d draped them from your cock, your chest, your waist, everywhere.
You’d look so good and all others would know you were mine. ”
“I’m not the pet here,” Westin reminded him, hoarse and confused, but pushed down on Sun’s hips to keep Sun where he was, then pushed up with a little groan when Sun responded by rubbing against him.
“I’m the pet,” Sun crowed into Westin’s neck. “And you’re so pretty. Silver and gold,” he added nonsensically, a hitch in the words. “Dark and lovely. I’m your pet. Your pet. Only me.” Shivers wracked through him as though he was close to finishing.
It had to be their time apart or the strange fantasy of Westin in gold, but his brat was aching and that couldn’t stand.
Westin stopped, stroking up and down Sun’s back before slipping his hands into Sun’s pants again to cup pleasing handfuls.
He squeezed and spread Sun’s backside apart as much as Sun’s clothing would allow. Sun began to whine again.
“That’s all?” Sun demanded, shaking against him. “You won’t undress me or fuck me?”
He could undress himself, but that wasn’t what he wanted. The demand was really a request, his defiance a plea.
“Sweet boy.” Westin sought his mouth and then his jaw and neck to leave them wet and stinging, all the while gripping hot, smooth skin to make Sun shudder and hitch and rock down.
He debated getting up to get Sun naked or to get oils or towels from one of the cabinets, but didn’t want to take his hands from Sun.
“Later,” he promised, teasing Sun with a dry finger and enjoying how he squirmed, “in our room.” The hiccup in Sun’s breathing was worth Westin’s small moment of fear at claiming the room for them both. “There’s no need to rush.”
The wriggling brat on top of him whined again. “Months, West, and then months more, always. Always months without you. And then…”
“And then you can find me again, whenever you like.” Westin was a cock-led old fool.
Sun raised his head to stare at Westin with dark eyes in a flushed face. “And I just come begging to you?”
Westin hauled Sun against him, rocking up at the same time to watch need take over Sun’s expression.
“It would make me happy to see you and to have you make use of me. It has always made me happy.” There was more danger, more fear, his heart seizing in his chest when Sun went still, but Westin had been too much of a coward already.
“It would make me happiest if you never left. I don’t expect that, but you should know it. ”
Something flickered through Sun’s face. Then he looked away, concealing whatever it was. “I’m a very good fuck,” he said in a hot, cutting tone before smiling.
Westin caught a glimpse of that bitter smile and resigned himself to fucking sense into Sun in this booth with the customers of Solace House outside and scandalized because Sun could not be quiet.
He wrapped his arms around Sun and moved Sun with strength and speed and knowledge of how quick Sun could move in return. He rolled them both over, then was off the bench and looking down at a startled, glaring Sun.
“Brat,” Westin called, tender, “you make me do things I would never ordinarily consider.”
“Things you regret?” Sun panted, lying on his back as Westin had left him, his pants inching down, his cock stiff and obvious beneath the cloth.
Westin put a hand to the top of the seat and bent down to kiss him, shocked and pleased anew when Sun instantly stretched to meet him, lips supple and clinging.
“No,” Westin whispered to him, petting his handsome face and giving him another kiss.
“Although I’ll owe Hely so much.” He stroked Sun’s frown before it could fully form and then straightened up.
“Roll over, brat, and my cock is yours.”
Sun had no reason to look so surprised. He’d been loud enough with Westin to upset an innkeeper used to all kinds of noise. He knew what he could get Westin to do.
But his surprise was momentary. Then he was smug.
“It is mine,” he agreed, before turning to put his face to the cushioned seat.
“I’ll show your Hely that.” He had one knee on the bench and one foot on the floor and splayed his fingers as if he was trying to grip the cushion.
Westin reached for his belt, then tugged Sun’s pants down to his knees without removing them.
The startled noise Sun made when Westin went into a cabinet for supplies was gratifying, as were the snippy remarks that followed it.
“Oh, I see you know where everything is. Is that what Hely likes? Or maybe you enjoy variety. How would I know? It’s not as if you told me what you do here.”
With someone else, Westin could have assumed they were asking for a spanking, something he’d never considered because as far as he knew, Sun did not particularly enjoy pain and had never demanded such things from him.
But perhaps it wasn’t about pain with Sun, but what he could get Westin to do.
Or perhaps it was about Sun knowing he was misbehaving and trusting Westin to do what he felt was right.
Some people are good, Sun had said, no matter how much he pushed them.
The thought made Westin pause with oil all over his palms as he warmed it.
“Mostly, when I’m here, I drink tea and enjoy a nice bath and a talk with a close friend.
” Westin paused again for the grumbled “Mostly” that followed that.
“You look lovely this way,” Westin observed quietly, “but I do feel as if you are asking for correction. Or perhaps testing to see if I will offer it. I’ve never done that before,” he added, heated to consider it.
It wasn’t the idea of hurting Sun; it was the thought that Sun might want to know where the line was, that he might want Westin to provide the line.
“Correction?” Sun echoed without any confusion, his face still down, ass still up and on offer. “What is it I’ve done? You’re the one with the secret Solace House lover.”
“Correction suited to a brat.” Westin stood behind him, enjoying the view, then stopped at a memory. “Am I really the only one allowed to call you that?”
Goosebumps appeared over Sun’s back, followed by a shiver.
“So?” The word was defiance and challenge, but Sun had tremors in his voice too.
Westin slid a touch over the curves of Sun’s backside, then spread them to get Sun shiny with oil. Sun wasn’t fully relaxed but he wasn’t tense, either. Westin also wasn’t as slow as he could have been. Sun shuddered and bent his head and said not a word about it. If anything, he pushed into it.