Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
But he is relentless. Alternating between sucking harshly and tracing his tongue over my pulsing shaft, I gasp and whine against the sensations.
Elijah is taking my cock like he’s making a promise. As if he’s repenting, he is trying to swallow me whole and show me exactly what he’s made of. How he was made for me. A perfect fit.
And it is—every ridge and curve of my dick slides so perfectly down the back of his throat that the edges of my vision start to blur.
With each hollow of his cheeks, Elijah is attempting to take my soul from my body—to keep it for himself as if I haven’t already dedicated it solely to him—and some small part of me is startlingly aware that he’s apologizing.
Whether it be for whatever happened on that bridge some lifetime ago, or for leaving me on my own front porch in this one, he is begging me to forgive him with each flick of his tongue.
Only, he does not need my forgiveness. Elijah Oliver Camry will never, ever have a reason to beg.
As his throat squeezes me once more, and my mind reminds me again that I have Elijah on his knees, my restraint snaps.
The hand on the back of his head holds him in place, keeping his nose flush against my skin as he sputters and chokes around me.
“Oh, fuck, angel. Just like that. Oh, god. I’m close,” I pant.
Elijah groans, and halfway through the sound it cuts off into a harsh wheeze. His face has grown incredibly red, and the thought of keeping him here until his eyes roll back and his hands fall limp is so appealing to me that I nearly blow.
But then the reality of that thought sets in, and I release him, watching as he pops off of me in a coughing fit.
“I’m so sorry,” I coo, reaching toward him.
My wet, swollen cock sits abandoned between us as I try to comfort him. Elijah’s hooded, tear-filled eyes look up at me—an intoxicating sight when mixed with his stained, red cheeks and his puffy, parted lips. He pants, licks away a stray string of spit.
“Don’t be,” he says, and his voice is fucked. He sounds absolutely filthy. “If I didn’t want you coming inside of me, I’d have you finish down my throat just like that.”
“Elijah,” I sigh, pulling his lips to mine. When I kiss him, I can taste myself on his tongue. I’m fucking starving.
I fuck into his mouth with my own tongue, slipping in my pointer finger just to feel more of him. He gasps against me, shuffling closer on his knees. After a moment, he pulls away.
“Pull these off.” He tugs at where my sweats and boxers still sit around my thighs.
Once they’re on the ground, Elijah stands, taking in the entire view of me sitting on his bed.
“What?” I ask him, my own chest rising and falling rapidly at the sight of his hard dick straining against the zipper of his jeans.
“I can’t believe I’ve had you inside of me. That’s incredible.” Elijah licks his lips, his hands fumbling with the end of his sweater as he pulls it over his head. Little blond curls bounce in retaliation at the movement.
“What do you want, baby? I’ll give you anything,” I promise.
“Tell me again. I want you to touch me while you tell me how desperately you’ve wanted me.” As he says it, he strips his jeans and briefs off, pushing them to the side.
Standing in front of me—completely nude—demanding that I tell him how much I want him… it’s a dream come true.
I’m on my feet, wrapping an arm around his waist and spinning him around to lay him on the bed. Then I’m on top of him, my tongue tracing patterns over his collarbones and his throat.
“I’ve spent every single night for as long as I can remember wanting you. Daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch you—to taste you. And in my dreams, you tasted just like this. You felt so good, so perfect for me,” I admit, finally able to share this truth with him.
Elijah groans, his hips raising to meet mine out of instinct and pure desire. His hooded eyes watch my every move, lips parted as he pants and sighs.
“I touch myself to the thought of you so frequently. I’d rather die than lose you.”
“So good, Row. You’re such a good boy,” he praises.
“Say it again,” I demand, licking the shell of his ear.
He purrs, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You’re a good boy, baby. So good for me that I could cry.”
“Cry?” I lean back to look at him. “I love it when you cry.”
“Fuck.”
I feel fucking delirious. Between his skin beneath my fingers and his words in my ear, I very well could be dreaming.
But the friction of my hard length rubbing against his hip is telling me I’m definitely awake, and I rub along him shamelessly.
“My sweet little angel, so smooth, so soft,” I murmur.
“Am I? Am I so beautiful?” he asks. Elijah is so desperate for my attention that it makes me nauseous with want.
“The most beautiful man in the whole world, I promise you. No one else can make me feel this way. I’m losing my mind. I’m so fucking in love with you I feel sick." My words come out rushed and needy in their desire to please him.
“Oh, god, I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me so hard that I can’t think about this ache in my chest anymore. That I can’t remember what you looked like as you were dying.”
Oh.
Elijah is still stuck in the throes of the vision he had. He’s still sitting on the memory of Aaron jumping off the bridge after him, and straight into death.
I can help him—I can fix it. I will take away the pain and the hardship of carrying such a burden.
And as I say, “Of course," it's my promise to do so.
I flip Elijah onto his stomach, pulling him onto his knees by his hips. His smooth, soft bottom presents itself to me as a gift, an offering. I leave him there as I grab the lube from his dresser.
With his chest shoved into the mattress, his face turned to the right, Elijah waits patiently. I squeeze lube onto my fingers and rub them together, warming the liquid quickly.
“Rowan,” he whines gently, shaking his hips lightly.
“If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to concentrate on prepping you properly,” I warn, but Elijah just giggles softly.
His laughter falls silent as I spread him open with one hand, dragging a wet finger over his pink entrance. He twitches, clenching around nothing.
God, I want to eat him.
I lean into his space, licking over his hole in one solid strip. He cries out, jerking in my hold. Then I’m sinking my finger into him, and the hot warmth of his body welcomes and praises me all at once.
This right here is where I belong—this is what I’ve been desperately trying to get back to my entire life. I almost can’t believe I’m actually here.
I extract my finger and push it back in, relishing in the heavy panting and small grunts it earns me.
When I have two fingers buried deep inside, scissoring him open on every other thrust, Elijah begins trembling aggressively.
I run my free hand up his spine, dancing my fingertips over his skin.
“You’re taking them so well, angel,” I tell him, and he cries out quietly.
“Say it again,” he demands.
“I love you, Elijah.”
Elijah pushes back against my fingers desperately, so I add a third and angle the pads of my fingers to brush that sweet little spot inside of him. He convulses harshly, moaning loudly.
“T-there! Hngh, Row, right there.” He sounds as if he’s dying under the weight of his pleasure, and that notches my lust even higher.
I find it adorable that he tells me where it is, as if I don’t already know. As if I didn’t know every inch of his body from the moment we met.
“Take it, baby. Take what I give you.” I rub that spot relentlessly, holding his hip up as his legs begin to give out.
“I-I’m going to come,” he whines, and I slow my movements, pulling from him completely. “Nooo!”
“Shhh, I’m going to fuck you now. I just need to get a con—”
“No!” Elijah repeats, jumping up, his back pressing to my chest as he uses his newfound burst of energy to keep me with him. “No condom. I… I haven’t slept with anyone else but you since we met. And I… I want to feel—”
“Okay.” I kiss his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. “Okay, angel. I’ll fuck you raw.”
“Yes,” he whimpers, and I push him forward until his chest is pressed into the mattress again.
His abused hole is clenching around nothing once more, opening and closing impatiently as I stare unabashedly. Once again, I simply cannot help myself.
My tongue easily pushes inside, as deep as possible, and Elijah protests loudly.
“Noo! I need you now!”
Chuckling, I lean back up to my full height, pouring the cold lube over my swollen cock.
I line my head up with his entrance, and seeing the difference in size between the two makes me dizzy with desire and excitement. No amount of prep will stretch him enough to take me without a significant amount of burn, and that gives me some sort of sick satisfaction.
“Here I come,” I warn him, and then I press into his tight hole. Elijah tenses, and I knead at the meat of his ass as I push my way into him. “Let me in, baby.”
Slowly, he relaxes enough for me to slip in, and we both exhale in unison as I sink further. As my thighs hit the back of his, I stand still, giving him a moment to adjust.
Elijah pants and groans from beneath me, his eyes clenched shut against the burn.
“So… full,” he mutters, and when I lean over his back, he gasps. “F-fuck.”
“You’re okay,” I tell him. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you hard.”
It’s a threat and a promise, and Elijah shivers.
“I’m ready,” he assures me. I doubt he fully is, but Elijah is the puppet master here. I follow his every command.
I pull out until just my head rests inside of him, and then I slam forward.
Elijah’s body rocks with the force of it, and his hand shoots out to grip the blanket beneath him.
“God!” he yells, his eyes wide as tears begin to fall once again.
“No, baby, it’s just me.” I pound into him over and over again, feeling his walls tighten with every thrust. I lay myself over his back again, angling my lips to hover right over his ear.
“Row,” he cries.
“Do you remember me now?” I ask him, reaching under his body to grip his dick. “Is your body reminding you of exactly who I am?”
He’s sobbing into the duvet; his lips parted as drool creates a discolored patch that only spreads the longer I fuck into him.
“Every time I slam into you, is your heart breaking just slightly? Have you missed me? Ugh, fuck, my sweet angel. You feel so good,” I groan.
“Yes,” Elijah gasps. “Yes, Row.”
“Yeah?” I push him further into the mattress, arching his ass higher into the air. I can feel it the moment I begin pounding into that spot inside of him. He screams. “You missed me so much? You remember me?”
“Uh-huh,” he sobs. “I do. So good, so fucking good.”
“Say it, Elijah. Call out to me. You know how.” I’m hoping he understands. I’m praying to any God who will listen, to him—my little angel—to understand.
My grip on his dick tightens, and I jerk him faster and faster. He tenses beneath me.
“My flower, my little bluebird,” he whimpers. And then, so quietly, as if he’s terrified to say it, “Aaron.”
I come so hard my vision gives out.
I only know he’s followed me over the edge from how hard he clenches around my cock and the feeling of his hot come as it shoots over my fist.
Elijah is screaming at the top of his lungs, and something coppery and hot fills my mouth, as if I’ve bitten into the side of my cheek.
He said it. He called me Aaron. My limbs twitch as I’m sucked dry inside of him, and I can see nothing but black and sparks of light that look like beautiful little fireworks here to greet and awe me.
I feel far too good to be confused by the mix of sensations, and it’s only as my vision returns to me that I realize that coppery taste isn’t my own blood, but his.
My teeth are buried in the nape of his neck. His soft hair is tickling my forehead and nose as I bite into him, and streams of his blood are trickling over the sides of his throat.
“Rowan! Oh, oh my god! Keep—keep going,” he cries, and even as my dick begins to soften inside of him, I thrust relentlessly.
My teeth stay lodged in his skin, and his twitches and tenses beneath me. When I’m completely soft, I slip out of him, and he groans at the loss. Even then, I do not pull off of him.
“I… It hurts so good,” he whines. “Harder. Deeper. Rowan, do it harder.”
My teeth sink in further, so far that I’m scared any more will take a chunk of his skin. Elijah mewls softly, his dick twitching in my hold.
“Good… good boy,” he praises weakly. I moan into his skin, the taste of his blood flooding my mouth so perfectly that my dick reacts to the flavor. “So warm. Your come is so warm inside of me. I feel… I feel like yours.”
Elijah is rambling, completely delirious now.
Some primal part of me is screaming, it is vibrating under my skin at the almost admission to belonging to me.
I detach my teeth from his skin, which causes Elijah to whimper once more, and I lick at the endless stream of blood.
“You are mine, angel. You always have been. That is why you’ve never been able to love anyone else,” I tell him.
He says nothing. Elijah crumbles to the bed once I let go of his softened dick, and I peer down at him—covered in blood and come as he pants.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Mhm,” he hums. And then he says, “Hold me.”
I crawl onto the bed, my head resting on the pillows as I grab him and drag him up and to my side. Elijah curls into me, his face finding its home against my neck.
“I’m sorry about your neck.”
“No, you’re not,” he laughs. “And neither am I.”
It’s quiet, aside from our heavy pants, for a long moment. I run my fingers over his skin in a soothing motion, and his pillows become stained red.
Finally, after a considerable amount of time, he tilts his head back to look up at me.
“I think I’d like to see that corkboard again,”he says softly.
I study his face—his big hazel eyes and the set of his jaw. The hot ache in my chest grows further at the sight of him, and I’m almost grateful to Bennett, who forced him on that ride. For being such an idiot, he sure did help me out.
“Of course," I promise.
Deep inside of myself, I can feel that we are moving rapidly toward a conclusion. And that conclusion will be Elijah accepting our past together, and I will finally have him. I know it with everything in me.
All that’s left now is to teach him what it is that I already know.