24. All That Glitters is Probably Pyrite #3
“What? You looked... different, for a second.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Cass’s hand stilled, but didn’t release him. “You look like you did in the bathroom. When you had to stop.”
The honesty of it hit Riot like a slap.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Riot said it through his teeth. “I just…I need…”
“What do you need?”
Everything. Your mouth, your body, your entire existence rewritten around mine.
“Something I shouldn’t ask for.”
Cass was quiet for a moment. His hand was still wrapped around Riot’s cock, a fact that was not making clear thinking any easier, and his expression had gone thoughtful in that way that usually preceded him saying something that would destroy Riot.
“Back home,” Cass said slowly, “they told me what I should want. And what I shouldn’t want.
And what wanting the wrong things meant about my soul.
” His thumb traced an idle circle on the underside of Riot’s shaft, and Riot’s vision sparked.
“I’m very tired of people deciding things without asking me. ”
Riot was beginning to wonder what Elysian Dynamics called their course on “Casually Setting Off Devastating Emotional Bombs”, because clearly Cass had aced that one.
“Tell me,” Cass insisted. “And I’ll tell you if it scares me.”
Something in Riot’s chest cracked along an old fault line. The Berserker was howling. Brennan was holding his breath. And Riot looked at this brave, simple, impossible person and told the truth.
“I want your mouth.”
Cass’s eyes dropped to where his hand still held Riot’s cock. Back up. Processing.
“I’ve never…”
“I know.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I know that too.”
“And you’re...” Cass glanced down again as he swallowed loudly. “I don’t think all of that is going to fit.”
The laugh that escaped Riot was half-feral, surprised out of him. “It doesn’t have to. Just whatever you want to try. Whatever feels right. And you stop whenever…”
But Cass was already sliding down from his lap, settling between Riot’s thighs with the focused determination of someone approaching a task they’d decided to master, and the sight of him there—still flushed, still tear-streaked, wearing nothing but smears of his own cum…
Breathe. Just breathe. Let him lead.
Cass leaned forward, his breath warm against the head, then his tongue darted out in a careful, experimental touch that was barely contact and Riot’s entire body went rigid.
“Like that?” Cass looked up through wet lashes.
“Yes.“ The word came out as a hiss.
Emboldened, Cass tried again. His tongue traced the shape of him, the ridge, the slit where precum was already beading, the thick vein underneath that had made Riot’s hips jerk earlier. It was, without exaggeration, the most devastating thing anyone had ever done to him.
“It tastes like your scent,” Cass murmured, and the vibration of speech against sensitive skin made Riot’s hand fist in his own hair just to have something to grip that wasn’t Cass. “But saltier.”
I’m going to die. I’m going to die on this floor from a twenty-four-year-old virgin analyzing the flavor profile of my dick. What a way to go.
Then Cass’s lips parted, and he took the head into his mouth, and Riot stopped finding anything funny.
Wet. Hot. Tight. Cass’s mouth was too small with not enough experience to relax his jaw, and the pressure was intense, almost painful with the scrape of teeth, and absolutely perfect.
His tongue was clumsy, uncertain, trying things and adjusting based on the sounds Riot made, and every tentative shift sent sparks cascading up Riot’s spine.
Don’t thrust. Don’t thrust. Don’t you fucking dare—
His hips jerked anyway and Cass gagged a wet, convulsive sound that sent the Berserker into a frenzy and made Brennan want to pull him off immediately.
Riot froze. “Sorry—fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean—”
But Cass hadn’t pulled back. His eyes were streaming, his throat working, but his hands were planted on Riot’s thighs and he was staying, breathing through his nose.
Then he moved deeper on his own, gagging again, softer this time, and the sound he made around Riot’s cock was something between a whimper and a moan that vibrated through Riot’s entire existence.
“Stop.“ The word ripped out of Riot. Not because he wanted to stop, but because Cass’s eyes had gone glassy and unfocused and if Riot didn’t pull back now he was going to either suffocate him with his cock or be the reason for an emergency tonsillectomy.
Cass came away gasping. His face was all tears and spit and precum smeared across his lip and chin, his expression dazed and searching. He looked used and he’d barely had half of Riot in his mouth.
“Did I do it wrong?”
“You did it too right.“ Riot was breathing like he’d been running. His cock kept throbbing, slick with Cass’s spit, and the gold was so bright it was turning the dim entryway into something that looked like noon. “Another thirty seconds and I would have…I couldn’t have—”
Understanding crossed Cass’s face. Not fear. Recognition. “You stopped.”
“I stopped.”
“Again.”
Something passed between them. Not absolution. Riot didn’t deserve that and Cass wasn’t stupid enough to offer it. But acknowledgement. Evidence that the pattern was changing, even if the danger wasn’t.
Cass wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Then, watching Riot’s face, he licked the wetness off his fingers.
“I liked it,” he said simply. “The taste. The way your body moved. The sounds you made.” A flush crept up his throat, but his eyes stayed steady. “I want to try again. Later. When you teach me more.”
Later. He said later. He’s planning a future where this happens again.
“If there is another thing,” Cass continued, chewing on his lower lip for a moment as he seemed to search for the words, “...is there another step between maybe? That can help you?”
Riot’s hands were still shaking. He had six years of Gensyn operative training, and another ten of living on the fringes of society, just survival and Berserker episodes, and his hands were trembling because a beautiful Omega was sitting between his thighs asking to be taught how to fuck.
“Come here.” He caught Cass under the arms, pulling him up and turning him until his back was against Riot’s chest, both of them facing the same direction.
Cass’s bare ass settled against Riot’s exposed cock, and the contact, hot skin against hot skin with a gush of slick making everything wet, drew a groan from both of them.
“This,” Riot said against the shell of Cass’s ear. “This is one of the steps.”
He shifted his hips, and his cock slid between Cass’s thighs, gliding along that wet cleft, the head catching against his entrance with every pass. Just there. Right where they both wanted it and deliberately, agonizingly, not.
“Oh…that’s…that’s different—” Cass’s head fell back against Riot’s shoulder, his hand reaching back to grab at Riot’s thigh.
“Feel that?” Riot’s arm banded across Cass’s chest, holding him in place while his hips set a rhythm of long, slow slides through the tight channel of pressed-together thighs. “That’s where I’m going to be. When you’re ready.”
“It feels—” Cass’s hips were already moving, rocking back to meet each thrust. “So good, oh heavens, it feels really good…”
Riot’s hips snapped forward, not breaching but pressing hard, and Cass wailed. “You’re so wet I wouldn’t even have to go slow, princess, I could just push in.”
Cass began trembling, his hips pushing back involuntarily, his body trying to open around something that wasn’t entering. “Oh heavens—”
“But I’m not going to. Not yet.” Slow became steady.
Steady became harder. Each thrust pressed the head of Riot’s cock against Cass’s entrance, and each time Cass’s body opened, just a fraction, just enough to feel the heat and the give and the desperate, grasping clench of muscle trying to pull him in, before Riot pushed through Cass’s thighs.
It was torture. Exquisite, perfect, agonizing torture for both of them.
Riot could feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine, a pressure that had nothing to do with the Berserker and everything to do with the sounds Cass was making.
Small, broken, helpless sounds. The sounds of someone whose body had discovered something it wanted and couldn’t have yet.
“Tell me how this feels,” Riot demanded, nipping at Cass’s ear. “Do you need more, princess? Are you going to cum for me again?”
“Like I’m empty.” Cass’s voice cracked. “So good, but empty. Oh fuck, oh fuck—
“You want more? You want it harder?”
“Yes, yes, yes, please Riot—” His hips stuttered, grinding back hard.
“You gonna cum just from feeling me right where you need me? Without anything inside you?”
“I can’t—” Cass was shaking his head, even as his body kept grinding back. “Too…sensitive…I need—”
“You don’t need anything else.” Riot’s teeth closed on the back of his neck and Cass’s reaction was seismic. His whole body locked, rigid in Riot’s arms, a sound tearing out of him that was animal and raw and completely beyond his control.
“You’re my needy little slut.” The words fell out of Riot’s mouth coated in gold, dark and possessive and not remotely sorry.
He ground harder against that entrance, felt it try to open, try to swallow him.
“My desperate, gorgeous slut who’s going to cum untouched because he can’t handle having a cock between his thighs without losing his mind. ”
Cass made a sound—sharp and confused—at the words, and whatever it did to him made his back arch and his thighs clamp and his hole clench so hard against the head of Riot’s cock that for one blinding second Riot couldn’t tell if he’d breached or not.
He hadn’t. But fuck, it was close.
“And after,” Riot’s rhythm turned punishing, each thrust rocking Cass’s whole body. “After you cum, you’re going to lie here covered in it, and you’re going to let me look at you. Because you’re mine. Only mine.”
“Riot—” His name came out shattered. “I’m going to—fuck—I can’t hold—please—”