Chapter 9
Devoured
OH GOD, he tasted like prey, like blood, like power and song.
Gideon moaned and pressed forward, expecting fight, resistance. He knew Joey Carlyle inside and out, and his boy didn’t give over easily, and certainly not skin to skin.
But Joey surprised him, going limp, yielding in his arms, falling back against the bed and accepting him greedily as Gideon kept tasting him, their mouths meshing, retreating, their kisses urgent and hard.
Gideon’s hands shook as he shoved them under Joey’s shirt, the fabric still smelling of the leather jacket currently draped on a chair by the bed. The scent triggered something in Gideon. He wanted to smell all of Joey Carlyle—his sweat, his sex—smell and taste and bite.
He licked instead, nibbled along defined abs, sensitive ribs, to cover a dark brown nipple with his mouth and suck.
The sound that came from Joey’s throat was feral, needy, and his hands tunneled through Gideon’s hair, fingers clenching as he arched his back.
Gideon moved to the other nipple, thrusting his hips into the mattress, half-hard and aching already. He lifted up enough to pull the hoodie up over Joey’s head, and together they fell back on the mattress as Gideon moved up to his throat.
To his eternal shock, Joey tilted his head back to give him access, and Gideon felt it hard in his stomach what this meant. Joey Carlyle might not understand it—not yet—but this was submission. Total. An admission of need. An invitation not just to fuck, but to mate.
Gideon was there. He was mated. He’d been longing for this for months. Joey’s smell was in his pores, in his dreams, and he wanted this man’s mark on his skin.
But Gideon wanted to mark him first.
Joey’s breathless cries, his needy grunts, drove him on. Gideon pulled hard on his neck and then moved before he left a mark the world could see. He made his way back down Joey’s chest, getting to his hip bone and sucking hard, adding teeth until Joey cried out again, almost desperate.
Mine, Gideon thought, but they were beyond words.
With shaking hands, Gideon stripped off the tight black jeans, knowing the boots and socks would have been removed already.
The black briefs underneath were too small to hide many secrets—beyond the fact that Joey waxed—and Gideon would have ripped them, broken them, destroyed them, if that wouldn’t have taken precious time.
It didn’t matter. In a heartbeat, Joey Carlyle was stretched, naked and vulnerable beneath him, and Gideon wanted him as he’d never wanted another human being in his life.
He’d wanted water in the desert, food after days of foraging, heat when he’d nearly died of exposure—those things he’d wanted with this intensity.
Those things had taught him what need felt like.
He sucked Joey’s proud erect cock into his mouth, into his throat, with that level of need.
Joey didn’t cry out this time, and Gideon looked up to see his eyes closed, his entire body immersed in pleasure, and his teeth softly sinking into his lower lip.
He’d been caught by surprise, Gideon thought, heart aching. Joey Carlyle wouldn’t make noise in bed, probably had never been vulnerable in bed. And he wouldn’t respect Gideon ever again if Gideon didn’t make good on his promises.
Gideon took him down to the back of his throat again, working those muscles while cupping those slim hips with his fingers.
Joey tried to thrash, tried to arch, but Gideon didn’t let him, holding him still while he used all his empirical evidence for how to please a male body on the one he wanted most of all.
A slow retreat, a quick advance, and Joey’s breath grew quick, quicker—he’d been clenching the sheets after Gideon had undressed him, but one hand was back in Gideon’s hair now, making his eyes tear with the smarting pain.
Gideon refused to relent, and Joey’s other hand beat the mattress at his side until Gideon took it in his own, weaving their fingers together.
That brought a noise from Joey’s throat, and Gideon released the other hand on Joey’s hip to grip his shaft, to squeeze and stroke, while he worked his tongue and teeth.
“Gid,” Joey pleaded, and they both knew it for a plea. “I’m gonna come.”
Gideon pulled back enough to lick Joey’s head with a flattened tongue. “How many times?” he asked, and Joey’s laugh was semihysterical.
“Usually just the once, but—”
Gideon heard it even if Joey hadn’t meant to say it. He came once, he always topped, he was probably gone before the condom hit the trash.
Not this time.
Very deliberately, he said, “I didn’t wait a year and a half for you to come once and run.”
Then he shoved Joey’s thighs up, up, parted his cheeks, and licked long and hard between the crease. Joey didn’t cry out, still biting his lip, but from his chest came a ngungh sound that gave Gideon the shivers.
That much repressed passion had to come out somewhere.
Joey’s thighs suddenly shuddered and clamped around Gideon’s ears.
Gideon lunged up past them to take Joey’s cock in his mouth, while thrusting a slickened finger into his asshole, and then, oh God, Joey made that sound again, that low, tortured ngungh sound, and he came, thrusting into the back of Gideon’s throat and pouring ejaculate, thick and basic, down.
Gideon swallowed and kept stretching with that finger.
“Oh God,” Joey whispered, shuddering. “God—”
“Gid,” Gideon corrected. “Here, you beg me.”
Joey shuddered hard, suppressed a whimper, and broke.
“Gideon,” he rasped. “Please.”
“Stay there.”
Gideon was still clothed, but not for long. His slacks and shirt crumpled to the floor, and his boxers slid down his thighs. Joey reached out from the bed as he undressed, trailing nimble fingers down his flank, his backside.
“I want to touch you,” he said, but his voice was garbled, hazy with pleasure, and Gideon knew this wasn’t the time.
“Later,” he promised. “There will be later.”
Joey made a negative sound, but Gideon wasn’t going to have that discussion now. He paused to grab a tube of slick from his drawer and then turned back toward the bed. Moved by a sense of exhibitionism that had rarely, if ever, gripped him, he whispered, “Watch.”
Joey turned, mouth slightly parted, and watched as Gideon oiled his own erect cock, hard and slow, letting his head tilt back and enjoying the sensation.
It had been a while, and then the relationship—a woman that time—had been tepid and halfhearted. This was Joey fucking Carlyle. Every sinew of Gideon’s body was committed to this.
Joey made that sound again, the one that told Gideon he was aroused beyond endurance, and his hand came out to feather along Gideon’s cock.
Gideon stepped away, not to be cruel but because Joey wasn’t the only one at the cliff’s edge.
He moved up from the bottom of the bed again, pulling Joey’s thighs over his shoulders and meeting his eyes as he positioned himself.
“You ready?” he asked, and he saw Joey swallow before nodding.
Oh God. He couldn’t do this without…. He lowered himself, let Joey’s legs slide down, and kissed him, not hard but tenderly, intimately, the way he’d wanted to touch him from the first.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised when the kiss ended, and with a little shimmy, he felt himself thrusting forward, breaching Joey’s stretched body.
Joey nodded again, but no words, nothing but that bitten lower lip and the arching of his hips as he sought to impale himself on Gideon’s girth and length.
Gideon shuddered. “Come on,” he urged. “We can do this. Relax.”
And that did it. Joey’s knees fell open, his body went pliant again, and Gideon surged forward slowly, with care, but inevitably, like the rising sun or the smell of mist on concrete.
He was there, unmistakable and real.
Joey’s eyes closed, his mouth parted slightly, and he let out a sigh of completion as Gideon seated himself entirely in Joey’s body.
Gideon stayed there, letting Joey relax around him, and waited until he felt that first visceral shudder.
“Go—Gid,” Joey begged. “Please.”
“Oh yeah,” Gideon told him, pulling back and thrusting. And again. And harder. Joey’s knees came up, clenching around Gideon’s hips, and still he kept thrusting, kept fucking, his body hungry, starving, devouring Joey’s surrender like it was the thing he needed to sustain his very life.
And finally, finally, Joey opened his mouth, cried out, said, “Gideon!” so desperately, Gideon wouldn’t have been able to deny him anything.
“Come,” he growled, thrusting hard, hitting that spot, the one that made most men quiver, and Joey was no exception.
First he made that sound, ngungghhhh, and then he used it to power a tortured, “Yes!” that sent shudders of electricity all along Gideon’s skin.
“Yes!” Joey cried again, his asshole clenching on Gideon’s erection, and that quickly—oh God, Gideon saw stars and hurtled off the precipice to orgasm, falling so hard, so fast, he barely felt the hot spurt of come scalding the inside of Joey Carlyle’s body.
Joey’s next sound was lost as his own spend coated their stomachs, and Gideon, still spasming, lowered his head and took his mouth again, easing him down and down until the chaos of orgasm passed.
Joey fell back against the pillows, eyes closed, his body falling absolutely still, and Gideon pressed a kiss to his forehead, recognizing the haziness of subspace, of forcing your body to relax so what should be a pleasurable experience didn’t become a painful one.
“Hang in there,” he murmured and got up, unsteady himself, to turn off the lights, double-check the apartment’s locks, fetch a washcloth, and arrange the blankets.
He got back, shivering a little from running around naked, and after wiping them both down, he nudged Joey a little until he was on his side and then spooned him from behind.
It wasn’t until he’d wrapped his arm around Joey Carlyle’s chest that he allowed himself to think about the enormity of what they’d just done.
He shuddered hard and drew Joey closer, and Joey whimpered in his sleep.
Now he would make the noises he wouldn’t let Gideon hear when they were making love.
“Oh, kid,” he whispered into Joey’s hair. “You and me—it’s going to be such a tricky dance.” And it would be. Gideon was cautious, but Joey was damaged. Still it was too late for either of them. Gideon had known it the moment he’d smelled Joey Carlyle in his darkened bedroom.
The moment Joey had shown Gideon his throat, their destiny was locked in stone.
Gideon was never letting him go.
But it wouldn’t be easy. Gideon knew that. Which was why he wasn’t surprised when, after an hour of sleep, he woke to feel Joey trying to slip away.