Chapter Ten #2
Impossibly, the flush deepened. Jem flicked his gaze down to their laps, to where the bulge of River’s dick in his jeans was visibly straining into the pressure of Jem sitting on him.
Oh. That.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, which was a pretty big blank check, but he already gave Jem a car, so.
Jem seemed to have something specific in mind, because he cleared off River’s lap so fast River got dizzy with the sudden return of circulation, and then Jem was kneeling between his thighs and River hadn’t known you could get pants off that fast, actually.
Was that some kind of stealth golfer skill?
The question fled his mind when Jem made a noise like sweet music and put his mouth around the head of River’s dick.
River was promptly ruined for anyone else.
If the way Jem looked on his knees hadn’t already flooded his lizard brain, the sounds he made while sucking cock would have.
And then there was the gentle press of his hands on the sensitive insides of River’s thighs, the fingers of both hands teasing over his balls before pushing in further to cradle them.
River felt the warmth of Jem’s satisfied sigh on his taint, like what was he even supposed to do with that?
Jem didn’t suck dick like he wanted River to come.
He did it like he wanted to make a mold of River’s cock with his mouth, like he was having the time of his life, like—
Another hot exhale and Jem looked up at him with hot eyes, then glanced pointedly at River’s hands like River wasn’t doing his part.
River would’ve pointed out that not everyone liked having their hair touched, but, like, why? He got a good double handful of silky honey blond and finally clued in to what Jem wanted from him. “You wanna know how I like it, sunshine?”
Those beautiful eyes fell half closed.
River was so fucking glad he did all that therapy.
Imagine feeling this good and believing you’d go to hell for it.
He urged Jem a little faster, still too slow to be much more than a tease, but if Jem wanted to take his time, River wasn’t going to stop him.
“Just like that, sunshine. God, you’re beautiful.
” River couldn’t believe he’d ever thought Jem was plain when he was obviously pure sunlight in a bottle.
Maybe that was part of it; maybe it had hurt too much to look directly at him before.
It would hurt to look away now.
A little faster. River shivered at every lewd noise he pushed out of Jem’s throat. Heat built in his belly. “Baby, if you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you gotta stop.”
Jem trembled under his hands, or was it River trembling?
River couldn’t tell. He curled his toes into the carpet and pushed his head back against the couch in an attempt to brace himself, but there was no stopping it.
Jem took River to the back of his throat, until River could feel him swallowing around the head, and River let go, coming into his mouth as the world went fuzzy around the edges.
Jem sucked him through it until River twitched with oversensitivity and pulled him off. It took most of his strength to wrangle Jem back onto the couch with him, but he managed it, got Jem back in his lap and Jem’s tongue back in his mouth and Jem’s hands back in his hair. Worth it. God.
And then enough blood returned to River’s brain for him to recognize that Jem was hard enough to pound nails and River hadn’t even tried to touch his dick.
River wanted to do so much more than touch.
But first things first. He broke out of their kiss to lean his forehead against Jem’s, meeting his hazy eyes with his own, then glancing down between them.
A small wet spot marred the front of Jem’s pants.
River trailed his fingers over it, gratified when Jem moaned and jumped at the touch.
Last time River’d barely had a chance to look at him. Today he wanted to see everything, take his time, make Jem crazy for it.
“Come to bed with me.”
The sentence came out more pleading than River intended. But it didn’t matter; Jem nodded, their noses brushing, and then River stood and led him to the bedroom.
He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t been expecting company. But he got a sense of rightness from adding Jem’s clothes to the mess on his floor.
That feeling had nothing on the satisfaction of having Jem naked in his bed.
He couldn’t imagine leaving his bedroom ever again.
Not when he had miles of Jem’s skin to put his hands and mouth and eyes on.
River dove in with all his senses—tasting the salt tang of the sweat on Jem’s neck and chest, breathing in the musk of his body, running his hands over smooth skin and coarse hair and supple muscle, soaking in every gasp and moan and shaky breath.
How had Jem been hiding this body under his kindergarten-teacher shell?
River scraped his teeth down Jem’s sternum.
“God, what are you doing to me?” Jem panted.
Trying to make sure you can’t live without me. River pressed his lips lower, lower, until his mouth opened around the head of Jem’s cock.
“Tell me what you like.” River palmed his balls, pressed them close to his body, pushed his fingers farther back until they teased between the globes of his ass. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”
Jem parted his thighs. His voice was a bare whisper. “Please.”
River pressed a wet kiss to the inside of Jem’s thigh. “Reach into the side table and find the lube for me, sunshine.”
If he thought too much about pushing his fingers into Jem’s perfect ass, he’d stroke out and die. So instead of thinking, he acted—he pushed his mouth down Jem’s cock and poured lube over his fingers.
“River,” Jem begged when River rubbed over his hole. “Put it in.”
River’s brain checked out, but instinct worked. Jem opened easily, arching into the touch like he’d been waiting forever. River mouthed the base of his dick, his balls, nipped the inside of his thigh as he pushed in another finger.
Jem trembled just perceptibly. A high, pornographic moan escaped his lips, followed by a lower, breathier sound when River fucked his fingers in and out.
“Like this?” River rasped.
“Harder,” Jem demanded, fisting the bedsheets.
Jesus Christ. River gave him a third finger, worked in deeper, faster. Jem’s red cock slapped wetly against his stomach, mesmerizing, until finally River couldn’t help himself and lowered his mouth again.
Jem shouted wordlessly and poured down his throat, clenching around River’s still-moving fingers, still hitching into every stroke.
Gradually, River slowed his pace, easing off until the tension left Jem’s body. Then he pulled back and slithered up the mattress to kiss him, chase the last taste of pleasure from his lips. Jem lay pliant and glowing beneath him, loose-limbed and lazy, blinking with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Same,” River offered.
Jem wrinkled his nose adorably in a laugh. “Smug,” he accused.
River pressed his forehead against Jem’s shoulder and slung an arm across his waist, snuggling in. “Can you blame me?”
“You were supposed to fuck me,” he complained, except he sounded extremely self-satisfied.
“I got distracted.” He walked his fingers over Jem’s abdomen until a slight irregularity in the skin drew his curiosity. “What’s this?” He hadn’t seen it earlier; maybe he should’ve turned the lights on. Stupid lack of night vision.
“Long story. You can guess later.” Jem threaded their fingers together and brought River’s hand up to his face. “You have one too. Here. This a long story too?” He rubbed his thumb over one of River’s knuckles.
“Just a dumb one. Ten-year-olds shouldn’t use pruning shears, even for the glory of God. Especially then.”
Jem nudged over onto his side. “Tell me about it?”
Okay, but—“Maybe let me clean up first,” River said ruefully.
When he’d washed his hands properly, spent exactly long enough wiping lube and come from Jem’s stomach and ass with a warm washcloth, and pressed a kiss to the mysterious scar, he lay down next to Jem again. “You know a little about my sordid childhood.”
“I read what’s on Wikipedia.”
River took that as the correction it was. “My mom was still pregnant with me when my dad died. I didn’t know her when he was around, obviously, but I know it was hard. She needed a support system. Michael Chutney gave her one.” He paused. “Sorry, Reverend Chutney.”
“He sounds like a douchebag.”
Their fingers interlaced again. River didn’t talk about this part of his life often—found it difficult and awkward—but Jem was soft and half-asleep and warm.
It made it easier. “It wasn’t all bad, all the time.
It got stricter and weirder as I grew up, though.
We weren’t allowed to have toys. We barely had furniture.
No art on the walls. Spent all our energy making money to support the church. ”
Jem’s brow furrowed. He pulled River’s hand closer to his chest. “Even the kids?”
“Reverend Douchebag had a landscaping company. Plenty of opportunities for unpaid labor.” River got the scar pruning someone’s white rosebushes.
He remembered because he bled all over one of the buds.
“Lucky I didn’t lose the finger.” It made him shiver to think about it even now.
He might not have been able to make it out of Arizona without it.
Jem kissed it but didn’t offer platitudes, for which River was grateful.
“Anyway,” he said after a tense moment, “fortunately, it turns out hemophilia does not run in my family, so.” He disentangled them enough to wiggle his fingers in Jem’s face. “No permanent harm done.”
Jem let that pass too and even offered a change of subject, though that could have been because his eyelids were getting heavy. “I got the full genetic workup done once. Turns out I’m not secretly a werewolf, which, bummer.”
River blinked at him, smiled. “Why’d you have the test?”
“Hmm. Sperm donation.” His eyes closed the rest of the way. “Gotta have—” Yawn. “—have healthy swimmers. Offspring. Things.”