22. Kendrick
Chapter twenty-two
Kendrick
I want to have sex.
“Spencer—”
“I mean it,” he insists. “Right now. You and me. I want to—”
“No, don’t repeat it.” Hearing it a second time might kill me. I’m already struggling to keep my breath under control after the way he just marked up my neck. Does he want to give me a heart attack? “Spence, why? You’re not into men.”
“I sucked your dick the other day,” he points out, looking at me like I’m an idiot. And maybe I am. No, I am . This has nothing to do with what gender he’s into. I don’t doubt that he wants us. Hell, I was sure of that before we ever got naked. Our relationship has never hinged on our sexual desires; we belong to each other anyway. None of that means that he wants this, specifically, though. And I’m still not sure that he knows exactly what he’s asking for.
“You’re not—”
“Not what? I’ve had sex before.”
Not something I want to think about. I hate the fact that someone else has felt his hands on them, that he made them feel good. No one else is allowed to have that but me. No one touches him but me, and he doesn’t get to touch anyone else. Ever.
“This isn’t some box you have to tick off.” I’m not interested in him forcing himself to do this because he thinks he needs to fit some kind of criteria. It turns what we have into something else entirely, and I’m not willing to go down that path. What we have, what we’ve always had, is enough for me. It’s never been not enough.
“I know that I’m not…” Spencer trails off and runs his hands down my front until they reach my waist, hanging there loosely. “Like you.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Half the time I have no idea what conversation we’re having, or what’s going through his mind. He jumps too quickly between situations and twists and twines things so much that I can’t follow him, not until he gives me the key.
“I don’t know what else I can say to convince you that I love you,” Spencer says, with a tinge of frustration. “If I do something that makes you feel good? Then it makes me feel fucking amazing. I can’t say that I’ll want it all the time. But I want it right now; isn’t that enough?”
How am I supposed to turn that down?
Sliding my thumbs across his jaw, I tilt his face so I can look at him properly. He’s all sharp lines, and those fucking eyes pull me in every time. They have from the second I saw them, and they’ve never let go. A golden brown, raw and filled to the brim with everything he feels.
“Okay,” I say simply. Spencer knows his own mind—crazy, brilliant mind that he has—and I trust him. I won’t insult him by questioning him anymore; we’ve had that conversation, and there’s no point in continuously hashing it out.
It’s not like I can deny that I want it. We both know I’d be lying. If he’s sure, then I’m sure. I want to hear more of those sweet sounds.
Hands tug at my shirt the second our lips meet, and he makes a desperate keening sound that goes straight to my dick.
I capture his hands, stilling them.
“Hey,” I soothe when he tries to tug out of my hold. “There’s no need to rush things.”
“I want—”
“I know what you want.” I’m all but vibrating and about to jump out of my own skin with need because I know exactly what he wants. “It’s not a race to the finish line.” I want to savour every moment of it. The only thing we’ll be feeling at the end of this is satisfaction, no regret.
“I want to be good enough.”
There aren’t any words that I can say that will make him feel like he is. We’re more than words, and all I can do is try my best to show him.
Coaxing his mouth open so that I can leisurely kiss him to help relax him, I encourage him to resume undressing me. Slowly this time.
He grins against me, playfully stroking my tongue. He stops after every button pops open, caressing my skin. When he gets to my chest, he traces around the bandage covering my fresh tattoo. His name permanently etched on me. Ownership that I eagerly invite. I hadn’t been sure about it, but seeing my name on him ? Yeah, I’m glad I gave in and agreed.
He yanks my shirt halfway down my arms, trapping me there, and pulls his mouth from mine, sweeping his gaze over my chest. Our eyes meet in a heated stare. “You’ve always been attractive to me. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
He brushes his knuckles across my skin, spreading goose bumps in his wake. His thumb flicks my exposed nipple, and I suck in a breath at the sudden lance of pleasure.
“Feel good?” he asks huskily, a knowing look on his face.
“Feels fucking fantastic.” I’m already rock hard, and every ounce of my willpower gets tested every time he touches me. He moves lower and squeezes my dick. I bite back a groan and push into his touch. Yeah, that’s good too.
“Tell me what to do,” Spencer whispers.
“I think you’re doing pretty good on your own,” I manage to get out, more a string of guttural sounds than actual words.
He smiles at me in a way I can’t resist, leaning forward to catch his lips and taste it. His fingers dig into my hips, and then he’s yanking at my pants, fumbling in his haste. I don’t stop him this time. The sooner we get naked, the sooner we can get to the fun stuff.
“You could help.”
“I could.”
“Did you solder the belt together?”
His face disappears behind fabric when I tug his T-shirt up and over his head.
“That’s not helping,” he huffs, shooting me a look.
“No?” Without waiting for a reply, I nudge him backward. He moves with me, our mouths finding each other again as we navigate around the living room and down the hallway toward his— our —bedroom.
He falls back onto the bed, splaying his hands to brace himself. Nudging his legs apart, I make space for myself. It’s my turn to take him in now. I can stare at him for hours.
He visibly swallows, red spreading down his chest as I continue to look. My fingers trace the blush, all the way down to his waistband.
“Take them off,” he begs, hips seeking and urging.
“I thought you wanted me to tell you what to do?” I don’t mind, either way.
He glares and lifts a hand, reaching for the button on his pants. The corner of my mouth twitches as he fumbles, attempting to do it one-handed.
“Not having much luck taking any clothes off today,” I tease.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
With a chuckle, I take pity on him and undo his pants, tugging them and his briefs down in one swift move. Fucking hell, he’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Soft skin, hair-roughened legs, weird knees that I fucking love, full calves. I plan on having them wrapped around me before the end of the night.
He’s at half mast, which is more than I expected. His attraction doesn’t work the same way that mine does, and I have to trust that if he says he wants this, then he really does. And god knows I’ve wanted it forever.
I skim my palms up his thighs, and he shakily asks, “Aren’t you going to finish getting undressed?”
“Soon.” It’s not in my immediate plans. As many times as I’ve seen him naked over the years, I’ve never gotten my mouth below his waist. Right now, it’s my only priority.
He twitches with a small moan at the soft kiss on his inner thigh, and he lifts his knee, giving me more room. I make my way closer to his dick, licking and nipping his sensitive skin. The sounds he’s making are driving me insane. I should have known he’d be loud; he can’t keep his mouth shut at the best of times, why would now be any different?
“Yeah, right there,” Spencer moans. “Fuck, that feels good. Does that feel good for you?”
In answer, I slide my tongue up the length of him. A burst of sweet musk fills my mouth. I do it again until he’s clutching at my hair and making more of those fucking sounds that are going to make me come in my pants.
“The better question is,” I murmur, mouthing the side of him, “do you like that?” It’s the most important part of this equation. The second I think he’s only doing this for me, and he’s uncomfortable, forcing it, we stop.
“It’s… yeah.” He threads his fingers through my hair and then moves down to my shoulders, pulling me even closer to him. “I want to be good for you.”
Never mind the sounds, words like that are going to make me come too soon. “You are. More than.” So much more than. My eyes slide closed in a wash of pleasure the second I get my mouth around the tip of his cock. He squirms, his knees bracketing me.
“I’m not—it’s never—don’t stop.”
I can’t, not with that kind of encouragement.
He hardens in my mouth the more I work him over. Relief overwhelms me by the time he’s fully hard and stretching my jaw. That he responds to me like this is enough to weaken my bones and make me so fucking desperate for him. The small cries and the way his hips are rolling and seeking my attention tells me that it’s more than just physical stimulation. Even if we never do this again, the experience alone will fuel me until the end of time. Hell, every glance he gives me, every tiny amount of attention he shoots my way, is more than enough to do that.
“Every time you groan, I can feel it,” he pants. “The way you’re reacting to me, the way you’re loving this so fucking much, it’s…” He trails off, another sweet cry pulling from those lips. “Knowing you like it so much is making me hard. You’re making me hard.”
Christ. I pull off his wet cock, and our eyes meet, his brown eyes darker and focused completely on me. He looks glorious like this: naked, chest heaving, staring at me like I’m the answer to all his prayers.
“If you don’t like any of this, I need you to tell me.”
“I’m not going—” He pauses, searching my face. I don’t know what he sees there, but he nods and says, “I will.”
That’s all I need.
He sucks in a breath when I flip him over onto his stomach and then lift his hips so his ass is right there in the air for me. Fuck, it’s a work of art. The kind I want to put my hands all over. Massaging the softness is like a direct line to my dick.
“Are we doing it like this?” Spencer asks huskily.
“Mmm, not quite.” There’s no way I’m putting us into a position where I can’t see his face when I get inside him for the first time. But if he thinks we’re going straight to the finale, he’s sorely mistaken. I have other plans first.
“Then what are you doing?”
I don’t answer him. He’ll know soon enough; I don’t have enough patience to drag this out too much. Not now that I have him in my arms like this.
He trembles when I glide a finger over his hole, with just a hint of pressure. Teasing, learning.
“What are you— oh my god .” His head drops forward on a cry. I continue to circle his hole with my tongue, exploring him. He shivers and lifts his ass into my face, silently begging for more.
He doesn’t need to beg. I lick faster, coating him and pushing my tongue inside to loosen him up. He starts rotating his hips, tiny moans a constant accompaniment, and I have to force him still while I eat him out, holding him so that I can soak up the taste of him, have him linger there for eternity.
“I’ve never—I don’t—I didn’t know it could be like this.”
I’m too busy, unable to lift my head and stop for even a second, to ask what he means. He doesn’t seem to need my contribution since he continues without waiting for me to respond.
“Why does this feel good? It’s so fucking dirty—fuck, don’t stop .”
That’s definitely not happening, not when he’s this desperate for it. In fact—I suck around his muscles until his cries are echoing in the room, and then I carefully add a finger, my saliva enough to ease the way. The strangled noise he makes is encouraging, and I slide in a little further. Not too far without lube but enough to get him comfortable with the intrusion. I want him as relaxed as possible before we go further.
“Spread yourself for me,” I order, voice hoarse.
He shifts, shoulders pressing into the bed, and then reaches behind himself to grip his cheeks and pull them apart. Watching the tip of my finger push in and out of him has me leaking like a fucking faucet, so turned on it’s almost painful. He’s right; I didn’t know it could be like this either. Everything with him has always been more, better, so I should have known that this would be the same. Anything with him eclipses all else.
The way he’s wriggling his hips and clenching around me only makes it all that much sharper, more intense. The need to get inside him is overwhelming, but I’m not going to rush this. Spencer deserves to be cherished and worshipped.
I move back in to lick at him, and he makes more of those delicious noises, a constant stream of them that feed me. Some of it comes out as garbled, husky words that sound distinctly like “don’t stop” over and over again.
“I won’t, baby,” I promise. Not unless he asks me to. Nothing else in the world could make me stop.
Eventually, he’s relaxed enough that my finger gets all the way to the third knuckle, disappearing in and out while I make him wet with my tongue. I could stay here all night, feasting on him. Exhaust him until he collapses and passes out. And even then, I’d continue, for his pleasure and mine both.
“We should have done this years ago,” he slurs.
No use telling him that he wasn’t ready for this years ago. I doubt he’s aware enough to hear me. I’m not even sure I was ready, to be honest, just as content with our unusual relationship as he was. If we’d never taken this step, it wouldn’t matter. We’re glued together for life. Soulmates, in all ways.
He lets go of a cheek and reaches back further to cup the back of my head. “I need—I need—” He cuts off with a low moan that reverberates through me. “I want to—touch—”
The words are broken and scattered, like he doesn’t quite know what he’s saying or asking for, drunk on sensations.
I understand what he wants, he doesn’t need to be coherent.
“Don’t move, I’ll take care of you.” His cock fits perfectly in my hand, hot and heavy, with pre-cum at the tip. Spreading it around gives me an easier slide while fisting him. He groans into the pillow and rotates his hips erratically, like he can’t decide if he wants to push forward into my hand or back into my face. It doesn’t matter; I’m happy to stimulate him both ways.
Without letting him go, I remove my finger from his ass and reach to the left, fumbling to get the drawer open. I can’t remember if I stashed lube in there when we were moving my stuff in—fuck, I hope so. The first thing I touch are Spencer’s glasses case, one of his spares. Pushing that aside, I find what I’m looking for.
His hole is slick already, puckered and waiting for me, but there’s no way I’d ever do more than this without extra lubricant. Not with Spencer, and definitely not for his first time.
He wriggles his ass enticingly. “Are you going to do something?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Can you maybe do more than think about it, please?”
“So impatient.”
“Kendrick Ryan Fischer, I will murder you.”
A smile flits over my face. Full name. That shouldn’t sound as sexy as it does, but I love hearing it come out of his mouth.
Squeezing the bottle to get plenty of lube over his entrance, I massage it into his muscles, teasing him with the tip of my thumb. Once his moans turn into frustrated muffles, I give him my whole finger again.
He melts, going both somehow rigid and pliant at the same time. “Oh—oh, that’s—”
I thrust a few times, making sure he’s easily taking me in before adding a second.
“Oh, fuck . Yes, that’s…” He pushes back, encouraging, and I kiss his back tenderly.
“Alright?”
“Yeah, it’s good. I mean, weird and a little uncomfortable but also so fucking good. Keep going, please.”
His wish, my command. The third finger is a tighter fit, but it’s not long before he’s relaxed around me, taking me in like a dream.
“I need to see you,” Spencer moans. “Want to see your face. Kiss you, hold you.”
A brilliant idea. The best, in fact.
When I turn him over, he drops to the bed, his chest heaving. “I think I’m dead.”
“I hope not yet; there’s more to go.” Of all my many interests in life, necrophilia isn’t one I can claim. He could at least wait till after we’re done.
He tugs me forward into a wet, open-mouthed kiss, my body stretching over his and pressing him into the mattress. He’s like a drug, directly injected into my veins. He tastes like home, like everything that I need to survive. Oxygen. Life . The way he’s clutching at me only makes it worse, the roar inside breaking free and wanting to ravage him.
He lifts a knee, hooking it over my hip. “Are you—I’m ready. I want to know what you feel like inside me.”
If my dick could get any harder, it would. Reaching down between his legs, I add more lube and then push two fingers back inside him, making sure he’s still nice and wet. He shudders, and his nails dig into me, breaking skin. That he’s enjoying it this much, that he wants me like this, that he’s still hard against my hip, almost has me coming, like this is my first time having sex.
Our eyes meet as the head of my cock slides over his hole, spreading the lube around. Now that we’re here, now that I’m so close, a spark of fear erupts in my chest.
He stills as if sensing it. It doesn’t surprise me; we’re too attuned to each other. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I smooth my knuckles over his cheek, and his eyes flutter closed. “Nothing. I love you.” Too much. It consumes me until he’s the only thought that matters. The entire world can go to hell, so long as he’s in my arms.
Spencer grasps my hands and then, with a push, he rolls us over, straddling my hips. My cock slides between his soft cheeks, nestling there.
“I love you too. Stop overthinking this.” He reaches back and fists my cock, hand sliding up and down. “This? This is mine. No one else gets to have it.”
“Your claim is already ironclad, Spence. You don’t have to do this to—” He squeezes me too tight, and I cut off with a pained hiss.
“Careful with the merchandise.”
“Careful with my merchandise,” he corrects me. “I’m doing this because I want to. If I have to keep repeating that for you to believe me, then I will. We can put it on the fridge; will that make you feel better?”
“Guests’ll love that,” I say with a chuckle.
“We can write it in code. It’ll keep Six occupied for a few hours, next time he visits.”
Everything melts away when he lines himself up and slowly sinks onto me. Fuck, that feels good. And the look on his face... I’ll never forget this. He doesn’t close his eyes, staring right at me, like he can’t make himself look away. I know the feeling. It’s easy to forget anyone else exists when he’s in view. It’s not about pleasure—even this isn’t about that, not really. It’s not about losing ourselves in each other. It’s about finding ourselves, together.
His face twists into a light grimace, and I grab his hips, stopping him from sliding down further. “Spence?”
“It’s just—I think you grew. You’re a lot bigger right now.” There’s a strain to his voice that puts me on edge. A hint of pain that I never want to cause.
“I’d normally take that as a compliment.” Not today.
He splays his hands over my chest and pushes down another inch. He’s squeezing so tight that it feels like a hot glove surrounding me.
“If it hurts, we stop, Spence. That’s not what this is—”
“I know, shut up. Let me adjust—you are big, and if you want to use that to stroke your ego, go ahead—and then I’m all yours.”
“You’re already mine.”
He smiles in a way that makes butterflies dance in my stomach. Soft, sultry, and filled with love. A piece of him that belongs only to me.
“Yeah?” He lowers a little more. He stills, his throat working. I soothe him with strokes of my thumb on the curve of his hip. “It’s good, Ken. Incredibly good, I swear.” He groans, eyes fluttering. “I felt that. Felt you move. Was it because of what I said?”
“You’re killing me, baby.” In the best fucking way.
“Good.” He leans forward and kisses me at the same time he settles on me completely, bottoming out. A guttural moan rumbles in my chest, and I bury my hands in his hair, unable to stop from reaching for him.
Everything builds slowly as he rides me at a steady pace. No more rushing, just us here together. He’s gyrating his hips more than an up-and-down motion. It only heightens it all, everything extra sensitive. I can’t do anything but take it, lost in the taste and feel and sounds of him. He’s so perfect that I don’t know how I look at him every day and don’t combust.
“This is… nice.” Spencer lifts his head to look at me, cheeks flushed red. “We should do it again.”
“We haven’t even finished it yet,” I say with a laugh.
“Once we have,” he insists. Except it’s followed with a hesitation and a slight wobble in his bottom lip.
“What is it?”
He bites his bottom lip, and I coax him to let go so he can speak to me.
“I want to, now. But I might not—I don’t always—what if…”
“What if what?”
“I love being with you.” He rubs circles on my chest, staring intently, like he can’t look away from me. “I can’t stand it when we’re apart. And right now, I love what we’re doing. Having you inside me. It feels amazing and so much more than I thought it would. I want to come. I want you to come; I want to feel you dripping out of me. A part of you and me mixed.”
If he keeps talking like that, he’s going to experience it pretty soon.
“I don’t understand,” I tell him honestly. All of that sounds perfect; why does he sound like something’s wrong? He’s hot and tight around me, gripping me as his hips rotate, small spasm-like movements, like he can’t bear to stop even while we’re talking.
“I want to touch and kiss you all the time. That feeling never goes away. It sits with me every second of the day. When I’m awake, when I’m asleep.”
“But?”
“But I don’t always feel like this .”
“Like what?” I’m starting to understand what he’s getting at. What he’s been struggling with for a long time. I didn’t see it for so long, and I’ll always be sorry for that. He shouldn’t have had to deal with that alone, or without any support. I should have been looking harder, looking at him properly.
“I’ll never stop wanting you,” he says hoarsely. “It just doesn’t always… I like it most when you hold me, and when you’re close to me.”
Getting a firm grip on his ass, I roll him under me without breaking our hold, staying firmly inside him. “I’ll always hold you, whenever you want.” I unhurriedly slide out of him and then back in, watching the pleasure flit over his face. Fuck, he’s stunning. “I’ll never take for granted what you give me or ask for more than you’re willing. I’ve always let you lead.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“No?” I thrust into him a little harder this time, and his lips part on a strangled gasp. “You want me to take care of you, baby?”
The next moan gets caught in his throat. He drops his head back onto the pillow, arching into me. “Yeah—yes. I trust you to do it right.”
As if I could do anything but treat him like he’s the most important thing in my life. As long as he looks at me like this, he’s my light. Hell, even if he doesn’t, I could still never let go. I’m not afraid of what I might become if he ever turned away from me, because I know he never will. The possessive monster that lives in my chest is mutual; it lives in his chest too.
“This?” Another thrust causes another groan to spill from those incredible lips. “This is not a requirement, Spencer. Don’t ever think I’d be so shallow as to demand this from you just because you gave it to me once.”
He wraps his legs around me, dragging me down into another kiss. I try to be as gentle as I can, but the way he’s grasping at my mouth and squirming in my arms, lifting his hips on every thrust, it’s impossible to stay in control. He’s doing it on purpose, working out how much it takes to make me crack. It can’t be a surprise that it doesn’t take much.
Every time I push in, he squeezes tight around me, and I’m not going to last much longer with that kind of pressure. And fucking hell , the sounds he makes. Songs from the heavens.
“Are you close?” The way he’s leaking between us, gliding over my stomach as I move above him says yes, but I want to hear it from him.
Spencer presses his open mouth against my cheek. “I—I think so?”
With a low chuckle, I reach between us and take hold of him. He shudders when I thumb the tip of his cockhead, and his ass clenches tightly. “How about now?”
“Yeah, definitely closer,” he groans out.
“Gonna come with me?”
“I’ll go with you anywhere.”
The words, spoken in Spencer’s deep husky voice, are enough to make me come. He clutches at me with a cry and, just like he promised, follows me.