Chapter 27
Lars
D ylon’s quick in the bathroom. I despise being away from him, feeling off-center when he went to Finn’s office without me. It’s absurd and something I should examine because it’s unhealthy. He must sense my neediness because he’s been jittery all night, and it overwhelms him.
“Come here, k?raste .” Our naked lower halves grind together as we kiss. “On the bed, on your hands and knees.” I’m tempted to brand him with my name for real instead of on a shirt as a joke, which is too outlandish to verbalize. “Spread your legs wider.” I nudge them apart to see my pretty hole open for me.
He pushes his ass back as I kneel behind him, running my hands under the shirt.
“I’m ready for you.” His head drops to the sheets, and his balls hang heavy and tight between his legs.
I blow on his hole, waking up his nerve endings, and revel in his clenching muscles. He collapses when my tongue rims him, but I band an arm around his waist and bury my face between his cheeks, inhaling. Imprinting his raw musk and sweet spice on my senses. I cannot get enough of him, wanting to mold myself to him so we’ll never be parted.
I’m self-aware enough to know he is my addiction.
“Tell me who you belong to,” I grunt, nosing his balls to get his scent all over my face .
“I’m your property. Yours to do whatever you want,” he pants, and my cock jumps in response.
“You’re mine, min k?rlek .” I call him my love in Swedish. One day I will say it in English.
“I am,” he agrees without the translation.
His muscles are tight with anticipation so I tongue-fuck him. I cannot get deep enough to satisfy my hunger. We find a rhythm, and he pushes back, riding my face, pleading for more.
His flavor embeds itself in my mouth, an insatiable craving.
“I’m gonna come.” Panting, he lowers his hips.
“Not yet.” I tease his hole with my bare cock and press the tip into his welcoming heat.
“Like that. No condom,” Dylon begs. We had tests, are on PrEP, and already agreed to give up condoms prior to this.
I’ve been fantasizing about coming inside him, intent on marking him. Dylon would have an animal fact for me about marking a mate to prevent any other animals from coming near. I am that animal tonight. Barely human, except for the need to spare him any pain.
His body sucks me in as I push an inch past where my saliva lubricated him. His warm body surrounds me, and I’m dizzy with the enormity of the moment. I bottom out, and he’s clenching as if he can pull me deeper. I want to be buried in his body.
I’ve never been so close to another person.
“Do you trust me?” I need him at my mercy.
“With my life.”
To get a tie, I have to pull out of his body, and he screeches as if I’ve stabbed him. “Shh.” I find the tie, along with the lubricant, in my nightstand. I stretch his arms over his head and bind them together. He groans and precum drips from his tip.
“Your body’s mine. I own every inch.” I lube us up and bottom out in one thrust. His moan sets me on fire. “Your body was made to take my cock.” The embossed letters declaring him my property unearth something so deep, hidden from me, a black hole coming to light to be filled or consume us both, I’m not sure.
Being physically joined is only a fraction of this consummation. Our souls bond, fusing irrevocably—nothing can separate us.
“More.” He rocks back but doesn’t have the leverage.
I fuck him deep and slow, rotating my hips, forcing pleasure, but not enough to make him come. Sweat trickles down my temples, and his shirt with my name is damp.
I rise higher on my knees and lift his hips so his knees hover over the bed.
“Sugar, please,” he draws out my nickname, sending a shot of lust straight to my balls.
From this angle, I’m pegging his prostate, and he reaches for his dick.
“Mine.” I bat his hand away. “I control all your orgasms from now on. You don’t touch yourself without my permission.”
“Baby. Lars, help me. I can’t… I’m… It’s too…much.” My pace stutters, muscles melting from the desperate way he says “baby,” layering it with affection and, I dare to believe, love.
“Is it?” I don’t let up.
“No. It’s not enough.”
“It will never be enough.” I close my hand around his balls and squeeze, holding back his release for another minute to live in his body for as long as I can.
I sink back, sitting on my calves, and lift his back to my chest. We work his tied hands behind my head so he can hold on. I yank on the collar of his shirt to give me access to his neck.
“You let me take you without hesitation, and next time, it’s your turn. I want your come inside me.” I suck his clavicle, one hand at his throat and the other jacking him. His neck strains into my palm, and I tighten my fingers. I feel the vibration along with the reverberation of his moan in my ear as his pulse speeds up. It’s a full-body experience .
Dylon spills over my fist, and his inner walls contract, strangling my cock, milking me, and forcing my cum from my balls deep into his ass, marking him as mine.
Finally.
Forever.
“So full of me.” I bite the juncture of his shoulder, leaving teeth marks. “Should we get my bite mark tattooed on you?” I murmur in his ear.
“Fuck yes. Mark me all over. Cover me and brand me.”
“You’re my home.” I say the words that have been plaguing my mind since my return from Sweden. I let go of his cock because he’s too sensitive, but I stay immersed in him until my cock fails me.
He hums happily, unable to speak.
It’s torture letting him go to clean up. I cling to him, wrapping my arms and legs around him in my sleep.
“Can I paraphrase what we’ve talked about today?” my therapist asks, and I automatically nod at my computer screen. I’ve talked more today than in any other session. Yesterday brought up so many emotions, every thought fell out of my mouth at an alarming rate. Last night, I took things too far with Dylon. I’m not sure he’s ready for my possessive need to hoard him.
“You’re overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings for Dylon, which is not surprising given your family history. When you grow up in an environment devoid of emotion, big feelings can be hard to process,” she says without judgment. “You’re worried about all the what-ifs and have thought of every terrible thing that could happen in the future. You worry about Dylon committing to you long term and his need to explore his sexuality. You’re afraid of your past repeating itself, the ramifications of coming out and how that will affect your relationship, your jobs, both your mental health, and his sobriety. All of your worries are valid, but you’re catastrophizing, and that could sabotage your relationship and your mental health if you let it get out of control. The exact opposite of your goal to protect yourself and him.”
I blow out a breath. “Yes. But what do I do?”
“You know what you have to do.” She smiles kindly. “You can’t protect your heart or his because the future is uncertain. You could brace yourself for his relapse only to suffer a head injury with amnesia yourself. Life is unscripted. You can’t prepare for all the bad things, and if you try, you’re going to miss the love.
“Love requires risk. You’re panicking about what can go wrong and can’t be present in the moment and soak in the joy of a new relationship and explore it. You’re clinging to him, afraid he’ll leave, but you could be smothering him. Mentally allow yourself to go through all the unpleasant scenarios, play them out in your head, and then release them. We talked about visualizing setting them on fire. Do you still want to do that?”
“How do I know if it will work?” I imagine a fire big enough to burn all of Manhattan with my fears.
“You don’t but that’s okay. We can try something else if it doesn’t work. This is a process, not a one-off technique. Some people can’t logically think through the worst-case scenarios, but it fits your personality type to do that.” She’s always been able to help me slay my proverbial dragons, but the stakes are so high, I’m choking on my terror.