Chapter 27 #3
They arrived at his building too quickly. He’d driven on autopilot, his foot heavier on the accelerator than he’d realized. He pulled into the underground garage, the tires echoing too loudly on the concrete before Gael killed the engine.
He didn’t get out immediately. He sat, his hands still locked on the wheel, drawing in a long, slow breath through his nose. He needed to settle. This jagged, restless energy was dangerous. It was untethered. It was not him.
He didn’t get jealous. The concept was absurd.
Ownership, in his world, was a negotiated, consensual framework.
It was a structure of rules and mutual understanding, not this…
this animalistic possessiveness that had roared to life at the sight of another man looking at what was his.
He had acted like a fool. A dog snapping at the air around a bone.
Samuel was silent beside him, a quiet, watchful presence. Gael could feel the weight of his gaze, could sense the unasked questions hanging in the air of the car. He couldn’t answer them. Not like this. Not with this acidic heat still flooding his veins.
He finally released the wheel and opened his door. The cold, still air of the garage was a slap. He didn’t wait, striding toward the private elevator, his footsteps sharp and echoing. Samuel’s softer steps followed a pace behind.
Inside the elevator, the silence felt denser, trapped with them in the small, mirrored box. Gael faced forward, watching the numbers above the door illuminate one by one. His reflection in the polished brass was a stranger; a man with a too-tight jaw and eyes that were dark and turbulent.
He took another deliberate breath, willing the tight coil in his shoulders to unwind.
He needed to get a grip. This was not the lesson he’d intended to teach tonight.
This was not the controlled, guiding presence Samuel needed.
This was something raw, something he hadn’t invited and didn’t welcome.
He closed his eyes for a second, but all he saw was green eyes and a friendly smile.
The apartment door clicked shut, sealing them into the familiar, expansive silence of Gael’s home. He dropped his keys into the bronze dish on the console with a soft clatter.
He glanced over at Samuel, who stood just inside the door, his coat still on, his face a quiet mask of wariness. It was a mistake.
The look on his face merged instantly with the memory from the club. The hot, possessive fury, which had only been banked during the drive, roared back to life, white-hot and blinding. The last fragile thread of his control snapped.
He moved without thought. It was a physical compulsion, a silent roar in his veins that overrode all sense, all reason.
In two long strides he was across the foyer. His hands found Samuel’s shoulders, turning him and pressing him back against the front door. Samuel made a small, startled sound, half gasp, half whimper, that was instantly smothered as Gael’s body pinned him there, chest to chest, thigh to thigh.
“You are mine.”
The words were a low growl, rough and ragged, torn from a place deeper than reason.
Then his mouth was on Samuel’s.
His lips were hard, demanding, parting Samuel’s with a fierce urgency.
The younger man froze for a single heartbeat, then melted.
A soft, surrendering moan vibrated against Gael’s lips, a sound that fed the fire consuming him from the inside out.
Samuel’s hands came up, fingers twisting into the soft wool of Gael’s sweater, clinging as if to a lifeline in a storm.
Gael kissed him harder, deeper, plundering his mouth with a frantic urgency.
He pushed the heavy wool coat from Samuel’s shoulders, letting it slide down his arms to pool in a heap at their feet.
He broke the kiss, but only for a second, his breathing harsh.
His gaze, dark and fever-bright, locked on Samuel’s flushed face before he grabbed the hem of his sweater and the thin shirt beneath it.
In one rough motion, he yanked them both up and over Samuel’s head, tossing them aside.
Samuel’s bare chest was revealed, pale and smooth in the low entryway light. It rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Gael drank in the sight; the delicate collarbones, the flat planes of his stomach, the dusky pink of his nipples already pebbled tight.
Gael returned to his mouth, kissing him with a renewed fervor.
At the same time, his hands went to his own clothes.
He shoved his sweater up and off, fumbling with the buckle of his belt.
The leather gave way; the button of his trousers popped open; the zipper rasped down.
He pushed the fabric down just enough, the cool air of the apartment a fleeting shock against his heated skin, nothing compared to the furnace radiating from the body pressed against him.
He broke the kiss again, panting, his forehead resting against Samuel’s. Samuel’s eyes were wide, pupils blown black, his lips reddened and swollen and glistening.
Gael didn’t speak. He bent, sliding one arm behind Samuel’s knees, the other around the warm, bare skin of his back. With a grunt, he lifted him.
Samuel gasped, his arms looping instinctively around Gael’s neck. He carried him down the hall, past the shadowed living room, his own arousal a hard, insistent pressure against Samuel’s thigh. He shouldered his way into the darkness of the bedroom and laid him down on the black duvet.
He followed him down, covering Samuel’s body with his own, and took his mouth again.
This kiss was slower, deeper. His hands roamed freely.
He slid his palms over the smooth skin of Samuel’s shoulders, down the sides of his ribs, relishing the little shivers that followed in their wake.
He dragged his lips from Samuel’s mouth, down the line of his jaw, to the frantic, hammering pulse at the base of his throat.
He sucked there, hard, sure to leave a mark that would linger for days.
Samuel whimpered, a high, thin sound, and his back arched off the bed, pressing his chest more firmly against Gael’s.
Gael moved lower. He kissed a wet, open-mouthed trail down the center of Samuel’s chest. He paused at one nipple, swirling his tongue around the tight bud before drawing it into his mouth, sucking firmly.
Samuel cried out, a sharp, breathy gasp, his fingers tangling in Gael’s hair.
The sensation, the taste, the sound; it was all fuel.
Gael continued his descent, kissing down the quivering plane of Samuel’s stomach, his tongue dipping into the shallow hollow of his navel.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of Samuel’s trousers and the briefs beneath. In one rough motion, he pulled them both down and off, tossing them over the side of the bed.
Samuel lay completely bare before him, sprawled across the dark duvet like an offering.
He was flushed from his chest to the roots of his hair, his body trembling with fine tremors.
His cock was fully hard, a beautiful, flushed curve against his stomach, the head glistening.
Gael looked at him, at the complete and utter surrender in every line of his body, and the fire in his blood burned white-hot. The sight was a brand on his soul.
He lowered his head.
He took Samuel into his mouth, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth motion.
Samuel cried out, a shattered, beautiful sound that echoed in the quiet room, and his hips jerked off the bed involuntarily.
Gael held him there, deep in his throat, humming low, the vibration making Samuel sob.
Then he began to move, establishing a slow, relentless rhythm with his mouth and tongue.
One hand came up to cup Samuel’s balls, rolling the heavy weight gently. Then he let a finger trail lower, through the \ cleft, pressing tentatively against the tight, hidden furl of muscle there. Samuel jolted as if electrocuted, a shocked, wanton noise tearing from his throat.
“Gael… please…”
The broken plea, raw with need, undid the last of Gael’s control.
He released Samuel’s cock with a wet, obscene pop and reared back on his knees, his own breathing ragged.
He yanked open the nightstand drawer, his usually calm fingers fumbling clumsily until they closed around the familiar bottle of lubricant.
He slicked his fingers, the cool gel a stark contrast to the feverish heat of his skin, and returned to Samuel.
He kissed him again, deep and consuming, as his slicked fingers found their way back. He circled that tight entrance again, applying more pressure now, then pressed one finger slowly inside.
Samuel gasped into his mouth, his entire body tensing, a wall of muscle clenching around the intrusion. Gael stilled, letting him adjust, murmuring ragged, nonsensical words against his lips. “Easy… just breathe… for me. That’s it.”
He waited, kissing him softly, until the fierce tension began to bleed away, until Samuel’s body softened and accepted him. Only then did he begin to move his finger in a slow, careful rhythm, a gentle in-and-out that was a pale echo of what was to come.
He watched Samuel’s face, every fluttering of his dark eyelashes, every bite of his swollen lower lip. The little sounds Samuel made, sharp intakes of breath, soft, punched-out moans, were a drug, winding the coil of tension in Gael’s gut tighter and tighter.
When Samuel begun moving against his finger, when his cries had become a continuous, desperate litany and his body was pliant and open, Gael added a second. He stretched him with infinite care, scissoring his fingers gently.
When Samuel was breathless and begging, his hips lifting off the bed to meet Gael’s hand, he withdrew his fingers.
He slicked himself, his own cock thick and aching, the touch almost too much.
He positioned himself between Samuel’s spread thighs, leaning down to kiss him once more.
This kiss was softer, a fleeting moment of tenderness in the eye of the hurricane.