Chapter 9 #3
“I wish I were in prison. It’s got to be more peaceful than this hotel with all these unannounced guests.”
“Do you need announcements? Are you the king now?”
The fabric tears, and I tut. “Fucking hell, I need that shirt.”
“I’ll buy you another one, pretty baby. I’ve got Jez’s credit card.” I grimace at the name, and he rolls his eyes. “Oh, save it. You’re about to get very lucky. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Gift horse? You’re more like one of the four horses of the apocalypse.”
He starts to laugh, not even remotely offended, and he’s so bright and charming that he makes the smile hurt on my face. I step back. Ignoring his immediate protests, I finish unbuttoning my shirt and shrug it off, letting it flutter to the floor.
“I’ll do my own clothes.” He pouts, and it’s far too cute. “I can’t afford the tailor’s repair bill if I let you do it.”
“It’s from John Lewis, Reuben. Not Marc Jacobs.” He laughs at my expression, but the humour fades as I strip the rest of my clothes off.
“You’re so bloody hot,” he breathes, licking his lips.
“Not as hot as you.”
It’s the truth. I lack his lithe grace, and my body is scarred with reminders of the job I do—the pits and grooves of old shrapnel, the scars of long-forgotten falls. He’s the complete opposite—his body clean, fresh, and touched only by the sun.
I step close to him, and he watches me intently, a flush over his cheekbones.
“Now it’s your turn,” I say huskily. I trace a line from his tight abs to the happy trail of golden-brown hair that runs from his cute belly button and into his jeans.
His cock pushes against the denim, and I cup the length.
He groans, his mouth going slack, and his eyes riveted on my hand as I unbutton his jeans and reach in.
He’s not wearing underwear, and I moan in approval as I curl my fingers around his dick and find it already damp with precome.
The flush on his face begins to spread down to his chest.
It seems like years since I kissed him, so I take his mouth again, cupping his arse and pulling him tight against me. He wriggles and writhes, his breath already jerky.
“Fuck,” I breathe into his mouth before kissing him again.
He promptly winds his arms around my neck, keeping me close.
I can’t keep my hands still. They roam over him, touching the sleek, soft skin of his back and back down to cup his arse and all the while we’re kissing—deep, filthy kisses with tongues and spit and breaths panted into open mouths. It’s like we’re consuming each other.
I abruptly lose interest in stripping him slowly.
Instead, I tug off his clothes and toss them carelessly to the floor.
Unexpected movement catches my eye and I freeze as adrenaline pulses through me.
I catch our reflections in the mirror and relax slightly as I realise that’s what I saw.
But my heart continues to race as I notice the colour on my cheeks and the silvery haze in my eyes. I don’t recognise myself.
Ignoring what I’m seeing, I grasp Xavier’s shoulders and turn him to face the mirror. I kiss his neck, and he groans as he gazes at his reflection.
“That’s so hot,” he mumbles, arching his neck so I have a better angle for kissing. He reaches back and twines his fingers in my hair. “Harder,” he orders.
I chuckle, opening my mouth over the tendon before biting down on it. His head flies back just narrowly avoiding breaking my nose. “Again,” he commands and his tone goes straight to my cock.
I ram against him, feeling the plush softness of his arse cradle my aching cock.
“Yes, more,” he whispers.
I stare at him in the mirror. His mouth is swollen from our kisses, and his eyes are squeezed shut, his eyelashes fanning over his flushed cheeks.
He’s so fucking beautiful. I feel a little like one of those mortal men in Greek legends when a god comes calling.
My mouth turns upwards. He’s got the arrogant quirkiness of a god, and he’d definitely be very at home causing chaos.
“Touch me,” he begs.
I lower my hand and grab his cock. It’s hard, but the skin is as soft as silk. I fist it gently, twisting at the tip and feeling the precome sticky on my fingers.
“Oh god, yes,” he moans as my other hand squeezes his nipple. I give it a mean twist, and he cries out, the sound thin and reedy. “Reuben, please.”
I slide my hand up and down. “Look at yourself,” I say hoarsely, and his eyes slide open so slowly it’s like he’s drunk. They’re bleary with lust and heavy-lidded, but they kindle with interest as he catches sight of us.
“We look good together,” he whispers.
I don’t want to acknowledge the truth of that, so I redouble my efforts on his neck, sucking and licking before turning his head gently and taking his mouth again.
As my cock rides the crease of his arse, he pushes back demandingly, and the tight clasp of pleasure makes my vision blur and control slip.
He nudges my fingers where they’re gripping his chin and I give a pleased grunt as he takes them inside his mouth and starts to suck messily.
His eyes slide closed, and I stare at the transported look on his face and the saliva slicking his chin.
“God, you’re perfect,” I say hoarsely. His eyelids rise enough to show a slit of colour. The ocean blue is dark now, the pupils taking over. “Come here,” I say and drag him to the bed.
I sit on the edge of the mattress with my legs spread and spin him round.
“Let me see that arse.” He obligingly steps between my legs and bends over.
I run my hands over his bottom. For such a slim boy, his arse is amazingly plush—full and round and biteable with the same golden skin as the rest of his body and the light fuzz of a peach.
I lean in and kiss the ink arrow, hiding my smile in his skin.
Then I fasten my hands to his buttocks, pulling the full cheeks apart so I can see the narrow strip of skin. It’s a pale pink, like the inside of a shell. I lean in and breathe deeply, inhaling the faint trace of sweat and soap. He shudders hard and I pause.
“Alright?” I check. He nods furiously, and I frown. “Words, please.”
“Yes, I’m good.” His words are garbled with eagerness. “Please just lick me there.”
“If I do anything you don’t like, you have to tell me, and I’ll stop. Xavier,” I say, tapping his arse. “I’m serious.”
“Oh, my god.” He turns his head, his face red. “I will, but definitely not at the moment. At the moment, it’s green lights all the way to the moon.”
My mouth twitches, and then I lean in, running my tongue from the top of his arse all the way down, licking the tight skin. I bypass the tight, little hole that’s as pink as his nipples and push my tongue behind his balls. He jerks as if he’s been electrocuted. “Fuck, that’s so good,” he hisses.
It’s a nice reaction, but he’s still coherent, so I can definitely do better. Spreading his cheeks, I lick over his hole, hearing him suck in a breath. “Reuben,” he says pleadingly.
I spit, the saliva making everything wet and sloppy until he’s panting and whining, and only then do I push the tip of my tongue in. He groans, and it’s only my hands on his arse that stop him orbiting the room.
“Alright?” I check again.
“So alright that I need you to do it a million more times.”
I return to my task and spend the next few minutes licking and sucking until his hole is slack, and he’s whining, his fingers clutching mine so tightly that his knuckles are white. His movements have grown jerky, enough that I sense he’s close.
“Can you come just from this?” I mutter. He nods. “God, you are perfect.” Then I spin him around, ignoring his furious protests to not stop licking him. “Get on the bed,” I order.
He scrambles onto the bed. I eye him as I roll off the mattress and grab my bag, pulling out the condoms and lube in there. His face is cherry red, his hair wet with sweat, and his cock is so hard it looks almost angry, the head sticky with seed.
“Spread your legs,” I say.
He immediately obeys. His balls are drawn up to his body snug and tight, and I know it won’t take much to make him come. I climb back onto the bed and rub the lube between my fingers.
“Have you done this before?” I ask quietly. He stays silent. “Xavier?”
His eyes slowly open. His expression is dazed, and I feel a stupid sense of pride in my chest that I’ve done this to him. “Yes.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Can I get a number of times?”
“Between one and a thousand,” he offers.
My lip twitches. “Xavier.”
He rolls his eyes and says truculently, “Once.”
Something in the way he says it gives me pause, and my focus narrows on him. “Was it okay?”
“It wasn’t the best, but it was fine.”
“Fine?” I frown. “Does that mean it hurt?”
“God, no.” I sag in relief and he stares at me before elaborating. “It was just uncomfortable. But I liked the closeness,” he adds quickly. “That was epic.”
“Xavier, it should always be comfortable. Don’t ever expect something that’s the bare minimum. You’re worth a lot more than that.”
He gives me a sudden, almost shy smile that slays me. “You’ll look after me,” he says with the confidence of youth. “I know you will.”
The thing is, he’s not wrong in this. I’m going to move heaven and earth to make this good for him. The best.
Becoming aware that he’s studying me intently, I lick my lips. “Of course I will,” I promise him fervently. “You’ll tell me if it hurts, yes?”
He nods, and I reach out and run my slippery fingers over his hole, tracing over and around the taut skin.
He goes still, but his face is hungry and dazed, so I carry on.
I slowly push in one fingertip. He tenses, and I stop.
I’m watching for the slightest sign of pain, but after a moment his muscles seem to ease.
“That feels good,” he slurs.
“It’s going to feel even better. I promise.”