20. Chapter 20 #2
Erath works him open. One finger becomes two, scissoring gently, stretching him, and Sidney's body opens for him in increments.
His breathing is loud in the quiet room, harsh and uneven, and his cock is hard and flushed against his stomach, dripping a steady line of precome that pools in the hollow below his navel.
Erath watches it. Watches him. He's stunning like this, undone, the practiced composure stripped away layer by layer until what's left is just want. Just need. Just Sidney, trusting him.
He lowers his mouth. He presses his tongue flat against Sidney's stretched hole beside his fingers and Sidney makes a sound that breaks the air in half.
"Erath—"
He licks into him, his tongue working alongside his fingers, wet and deliberate and thorough.
Sidney's hand flies from the sheet to Erath's hair and grips, hard enough to sting, and his hips buck up off the bed.
Erath's free hand presses against his hip, steadying him, not holding him down, just giving him something to push against, and Sidney pushes.
His body is rocking now, moving with Erath's mouth and his fingers, chasing the sensation with a growing desperation that makes his movements frantic and graceless.
His cock is leaking steadily, a continuous thread of precome that glistens on his stomach, and every sound coming out of him is raw and unfiltered and Erath wants to hear every single one.
He adds a third finger and curls them and presses his tongue against him at the same time and Sidney nearly comes off the bed.
His back arches, his thighs clamp around Erath's head, and the sound he makes is wrecked, a sob that's been scraped out of the deepest part of him, and his hips rock up against Erath's mouth in frantic, stuttering movements that have lost all coordination and become pure instinct.
Erath pulls back. He presses a kiss to the inside of Sidney's thigh, wet and open-mouthed, and withdraws his fingers slowly. Sidney whines at the loss, actually whines, and the sound of it goes through Erath like electricity.
"Turn over," Erath says. His voice is rougher than he means it to be. "On your knees."
Sidney's eyes open. They're glazed, unfocused, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black.
He blinks at Erath, processing, and then he moves.
He rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, his head hanging between his arms, his back a long pale line that dips at the base of his spine.
He's shaking. Fine, constant tremors in his thighs and his arms and the muscles of his back.
Erath kneels behind him. He runs his hand down Sidney's spine, from the nape of his neck to the base, feeling the knobs of vertebrae under his palm and the way Sidney's body responds to the touch, arching into it, seeking it.
He grips Sidney's hips firmer than he has before, because Sidney said he wanted to feel it, and Erath is more than happy to oblige.
He positions himself, the dripping head of his cock pressing against Sidney where he's wet and open and ready.
Erath pushes in. Slow. Controlled. Inch by inch, the way he opened him with his fingers, giving Sidney's body time to take him.
Sidney's breath leaves him in a long, shuddering exhale and his fingers twist in the sheets and his back dips lower, his shoulders dropping, his ass pressing back against Erath as if trying to take him faster.
Erath holds his hips and sets the pace and doesn't let him rush.
When he's fully inside, he stops. He can feel Sidney around him, tight and hot and pulsing, and the sensation is immense. He breathes through it. Sidney breathes through it. They're both still, connected, the room silent except for the sound of two people trying to hold themselves together.
Then Erath pulls back and thrusts in and Sidney gasps.
He doesn't hold him down. His hands stay on Sidney's hips.
He pulls Sidney back onto his cock as he drives forward and the impact of it, the depth and the angle and the force, wrenches a sound out of Sidney that's barely human.
Erath does it again. Again. He finds a pace that has Sidney gasping on every stroke, his face dropping to the mattress, his hands fisted in the sheets, his body rocking forward with each thrust and then pressing back for more.
"You're still so tight," Erath tells him, and his voice is low, strained, barely holding. His fingers dig into Sidney's hips. "You feel—Sidney, the way you're clutching my cock—"
Sidney moans into the mattress. His back arches deeper, changing the angle, and when Erath thrusts into him again they both feel the difference.
Erath adjusts, tilting his hips, and the next stroke hits something that makes Sidney's entire body jolt and his moan pitch up into something desperate and breathless.
He hits it again. And again. Each thrust precise, aimed, devastating.
Sidney is falling apart under him, his composure long gone, his body moving on instinct, pushing back to meet every stroke with increasing urgency.
His cock is hanging heavy between his thighs, untouched, dripping onto the sheets below him.
"Fuck," Sidney chokes, and his voice is wrecked, demolished, scraped raw. "Please, Erath, I wanna feel you come in me. I want—I need you to—"
The sound of Sidney begging almost undoes him. Erath's rhythm falters, his hips stuttering, and he has to close his eyes and breathe through the surge of heat that tears through him. He grips Sidney's hips tighter and forces himself to hold on.
"Not until you come," Erath tells him. His voice is rough, barely steady. "Touch your cock for me, Sidney. Come on, sweetheart."
Sidney makes a broken sound. His hand moves under his body, reaching for his cock.
He wraps his hand around himself and strokes, fast and desperate, his movements graceless and urgent, and Erath fucks him through it, maintaining the pace that has Sidney falling apart, hitting that spot inside him with every thrust.
"That's it." Erath's thumb strokes against the jut of Sidney's hip. “I've got you. Let go."
Sidney's body goes rigid. Every muscle locks, his thighs trembling violently, his hand stuttering on his cock, and then he's coming, coming with his face pressed into the mattress and his ass in the air, clenching around Erath in waves that are so tight and so rhythmic that Erath can feel every pulse.
Sidney's orgasm tears through him silently, his mouth open against the sheets, his body shaking with the force of it, his cock spilling onto the bed beneath him in long, heavy pulses.
Erath follows him. He can't hold off, not with Sidney contracting around him like that, not with the sounds he's making, not with the sight of him wrecked and spent and still pushing back against Erath for more.
He drives in deep and comes with a groan that he doesn't try to muffle, filling Sidney the way he asked, the way he wanted, and Sidney makes a soft, broken sound at the feel of it, his body going slack under Erath's hands.
They stay like that for a moment. Connected. Sidney on his knees with his face in the mattress, Erath behind him with his hands on his hips, both of them breathing in ragged, uneven pulls. The room smells of sex and sweat and the warmth of two bodies that have been pressed together.
Erath pulls out slowly, carefully, and Sidney hisses and drops fully onto the mattress, lying flat on his stomach with his face turned to the side. His eyes are closed. His lips are parted. His body is loose and heavy and trembling with aftershocks and he looks undone in the best possible way.
Erath lies down beside him. He puts his hand on Sidney's back, between his shoulder blades, and feels his heart hammering beneath his palm.
Sidney doesn't move for a long time. He lies there and breathes and comes back to himself piece by piece, the trembling subsiding, his heartbeat slowing under Erath's hand.
Then he turns his head and opens his eyes and looks at Erath, and his expression is open and soft in a way Erath rarely gets to see it.
The wall is down. Not just a door in it, not just a crack.
Down. And behind it is Sidney, just Sidney, bare and spent and looking at Erath with nothing between them.
“Alright?” Erath asks, brushing his fingers against his cheek.
"Yeah," Sidney says, and his voice is hoarse and ruined and there's a smile in it.
Sidney shifts, rolling onto his side, and tucks himself against Erath's chest with a lack of self-consciousness that is new and significant.
His head finds the hollow of Erath's shoulder.
His hand rests on Erath's stomach, and his fingers trace patterns on Erath's skin.
His breathing deepens and slows and his body goes heavy and loose, the weight of someone who has let go of everything they were holding.
Erath holds him and does not sleep and does not move and does not want to be anywhere else in any world, living or dead. The underworld hums its low, constant hum, and the dark is warm, and for once it doesn't feel like dark at all.