16. Riley #2
Sloan still had some fight in him, which was fine with Riley. He didn’t want Sloan to yield so easily—he wanted the fight and the passion. He wanted Sloan to make him work for the honour of claiming him, because that’s how it would always be between them.
“R-Riley—fucking let me breathe—”
Hearing his name leave Sloan’s bruised lips sent Riley into a frenzy.
His hips ground forward, pressing his hardening cock against Sloan’s thigh through their pants, the friction sending heat spiking through his veins.
One hand stayed clamped on Sloan’s arm, thumb pressing into the vein that throbbed there, while the other tangled in the hair at the nape of Sloan’s neck, yanking his head back to angle the kiss deeper.
“Oh fuck,” Sloan hissed into Riley’s mouth, and then groaned when Riley rolled his hips again, rocking against him enough to make his back arch.
It was just enough. Riley had no idea what the hell he was doing, but he knew he could get them both off like this. The friction was borderline painful, but he wasn’t deterred.
“You’re mine,” Riley muttered against Sloan’s lips, not breaking the contact. His tongue delved back in to lap at the roof of Sloan’s mouth, tasting the vulnerability that he so rarely saw.
Sloan’s body arched under him, and he whimpered, shirtless chest heaving, nipples pebbling in the cool air of the room. Riley’s free hand skimmed down to trace the edge of his abs, but he pulled back just enough to growl, “Say it.”
His mouth captured Sloan’s again before he could answer, tongue fucking into him with relentless possession as he lost all sense. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore; he just needed Sloan to submit before he went insane.
Muscles tensed under Riley’s grip as Sloan pushed back—not in resistance, but in that fire that Riley craved, the one that made him want to own him.
“Can’t fucking talk with your tongue in my mouth,” Sloan grumbled, fingers unlatching from where they were caught in Riley’s belt loops to slide down and grip his ass. He wasn’t denying Riley’s claim, but he wasn’t confirming it either.
Riley was frustrated until Sloan shyly rocked against him, peppering kisses along Riley’s jaw with a moan. “Get me off before we talk about who owns who, Evans. I can’t think straight with my dick this hard.”
Riley’s hand shot up to grip Sloan’s chin, forcing him to hold his gaze. “It’s Evans now, is it?”
Sloan’s blush darkened, knowing he had been caught.
“Say my name if you want to come, Kingston,” Riley ordered, grinning. “I like hearing you moan it.”
The hands gripping Riley’s ass dug in painfully, but he brushed it off. Every bruise would be worth it if it got him what he wanted.
He could see that Sloan was at war with himself. He wasn’t a man who submitted easily, and this was new territory for both of them, but if he wanted it—
“Only here,” said Sloan. “Now move, Riley.”
Riley’s heart stuttered, and his grin turned feral. As much as he wanted to keep teasing Sloan, he wanted to come more. They would have time to talk about what all this meant after they were both satisfied, and Riley had fucked some of Sloan’s temper out of him.
Humming low in his throat, Riley twisted Sloan’s head to the side with a firm grip on his jaw, exposing the smooth, unmarked curve of that tempting neck. If Sloan wouldn’t let him claim him with words, Riley knew plenty of other ways—starting with leaving a mark that he couldn’t ignore.
“Don’t you—” Sloan started, his voice rough and edged with warning, but Riley silenced him by lunging forward and sinking his teeth into the tender crook where neck met shoulder.
At the same instant, he rolled their hips together, grinding his stiff cock against Sloan’s with a deliberate thrust that pinned him tighter against the door.
Sloan’s body jerked under the assault, and a sharp hiss escaped his lips as Riley bit down harder. He wasn’t breaking skin, but it was definitely going to bruise. The salty tang of Sloan's sweat tasted sweeter once he began to moan into the pain, hips bucking against Riley’s instinctively.
“Crazy bastard,” Sloan said, pushing the words through gritted teeth. His voice sounded strained, as if he were struggling to hold back his moans, and Riley couldn’t have that.
He sucked greedily at the spot he was biting, tongue laving over the indent of his teeth while his free hand found Sloan’s pec and one of the nipples he had been eyeing before.
Riley knew girls either hated having their nipples touched or loved it, and he was curious to see if it was the same for men.
Sloan’s answer came in a surprised shout that cut into a moan, then faded into muttered curses that Riley couldn’t decipher. He didn’t need words to understand, not with the way Sloan was rocking harder against him, muscles flexing and jerking with every twist and brush of Riley’s fingers.
Sloan’s enthusiasm had Riley moaning against his skin as he dragged his mouth up slightly, nipping along the column of Sloan’s throat, marking a trail that would bloom purple by morning.
“Fuck, you taste good here too,” Riley growled against heated skin, his breath hot and ragged. He released the bite only to soothe it with a long, wet lick of his tongue, tracing the vein that pulsed wildly under the surface.
Sloan said nothing as he pulled him closer, even as he arched away, that conflicting push-pull igniting the fire in Riley’s gut.
He shoved one thigh between Sloan’s legs, pressing up to rub against his hardening bulge, the denim and cotton barriers doing nothing to dull the ache building between them.
They were both on the edge, and it wouldn’t take much to push them over it, so Riley focused on what felt good.
He shifted his hand from gripping Sloan’s jaw to the back of his neck, grinding his hips in a steady rhythm as he went back in for another bite—this one lower at the edge of his collarbone, teeth scraping over bone.
Sloan’s panting gasp vibrated through his chest, and Riley couldn’t resist sliding his palm down to touch the flat planes of his abs. He felt them contract under the caresses and was amused by how they tensed and released, betraying how much Sloan was holding back.
Riley bit down once more, sucking hard enough to draw blood to the surface, then pulled back to admire the red bloom forming. “My marks look good on you,” he rasped, his voice turning thick with need before he captured Sloan’s mouth again in a bruising kiss.
His tongue thrust deep, mimicking the roll of his hips as he claimed every inch—lips, tongue, and the very breath Sloan took. The friction between them built, and Riley’s cock throbbed against the rigid length of Sloan’s through their clothes, each grind sending jolts of heat straight to his core.
He broke the kiss just so he could lock eyes with Sloan, those dark depths staring back with a mix of defiance and raw hunger that made Riley’s blood roar.
No words now—just the heavy rasp of their breaths mingling in the space between them, and Sloan’s chest rising and falling in sharp pants that matched Riley’s own.
Terror of the unknown gripped him, but Riley pushed through it as his hand slid lower and dipped under the waistband of Sloan’s pants, hesitating briefly before he yanked them down and out of the way.
Riley’s heart raced when Sloan’s dick sprang free, but he wasted no time as he wrapped a hand around the thick cock, gasping at how hot it was and the feel of pre-cum against his palm.
Sloan bucked into the grip, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. He looked scared too, but his gaze never wavered. He pinned his eyes on Riley’s face like he was daring him to push harder, to take it all.
So, Riley took. He stroked Sloan roughly, his thumb circling the slick head, spreading the wetness down the shaft while his own hips jerked forward to seek more pressure against his trapped erection.
“Look at me,” Riley said, his voice gravelly and low, even though Sloan’s eyes were already burning into his. He squeezed Sloan’s cock tighter, pumping faster, the wet slide of skin on skin echoing in the room.
Sloan’s hands flew up to claw at Riley’s back, nails digging through fabric, pulling him impossibly closer as his body tensed, abs clenching. Their foreheads nearly touched, breaths panting hot and erratic—Sloan’s exhales and moans ghosting over Riley’s lips, mingling with his own ragged gasps.
The pressure coiled tight in Riley’s gut, his balls drawing up as he ground his cock against Sloan’s thigh, the rough fabric making delicious friction. Sloan’s next moan was followed by a stutter of his hips, and his cock pulsed in Riley’s fist as his body locked up impossibly tight.
Riley felt the first hot spurt of cum hit his fingers, Sloan’s release spilling over his hand in thick ropes.
The sight—the feel—had Riley gasping, cursing, and shaking as he tipped over the edge with him.
He came with a choked groan, hips slamming forward one last time as his cock erupted, soaking the front of his jeans in sticky warmth, the wet spot blooming dark against the fabric.
They stayed locked together, their bodies shuddering through the aftershocks, cocks twitching and spent. Sloan’s cum-slicked length softened in Riley’s grip, but neither moved to pull away.
Their stares held, intense and unblinking. Sloan’s pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving with pants that warmed the air between them. Riley’s own breaths were coming in harsh bursts that matched the wild thump of his heart, and his brain began to process what had just happened.
He was distracted by the sight of the beaded sweat on Sloan’s brow trickling down to the fresh bite marks on his neck, and Riley’s thumb traced one idly, possessive even in the clarity of release.
The world narrowed to them and the feeling of their fear bleeding through the haze of passion—the excitement, too. Riley could see it in Sloan’s softening expression; the surrender to what they both knew was inevitable now.