Chapter 10 #2
He took him deep again, then backed off, learning him by the catch of his breath, the way his thighs shook when Asher pressed his tongue just under the head, the wrecked noise he made when Asher took him all the way down and swallowed around him.
Asher kept up a low running murmur against his skin, half filth and half praise, the way he always got when he wanted somebody this badly.
His free hand wandered lower, over Patrick’s balls and the sensitive skin behind them, and Patrick went rigid, a sharp breath hissing out of him. There it was. Asher dragged the pad of one finger lower, not in, just there, a slow press and circle, and the sound Patrick made was brand new.
“Oh,” Asher breathed, lifting his head to watch his face. “You like that. You want more than my mouth tonight, don’t you?” He circled again, barely any pressure, and Patrick’s hips chased it before he could stop them. “Yeah. You do. You want me to open you up and get inside you.”
Patrick came apart at that, a full-body shudder, his hips caught between Asher’s mouth and Asher’s hand like he couldn’t choose.
His fingers fisted in Asher’s hair, not guiding, just holding on.
His voice went ragged, half Asher’s name and half nothing at all, the last of his composure burning off right there in front of Asher.
“Asher—” Patrick’s voice cracked, his hand pulling at Asher’s hair. “Stop. If you keep doing that, this is over, and I want—” He didn’t finish.
Asher came off him slowly, with a filthy drag of his mouth, and crawled back up his body. “You want what?” He kissed the corner of Patrick’s jaw, the edge of his throat. “Say it. I’m not going to guess.”
Patrick turned his head and caught Asher’s mouth, kissed him hard, and when he pulled back, his eyes were dark and certain in the low light. “I want you inside me.”
Asher’s brain whited out for a second. “Yeah,” he said when he could manage words. “Yes. God, yes.”
He found the lube in the nightstand by feel, and his hands weren’t steady. Patrick watched him the whole time, that flat focused attention turned all the way up, except now there was nothing guarded left under it.
“You sure?” Asher said, slicking his fingers, settling between Patrick’s thighs. “Last chance to make me behave.”
“I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life,” Patrick said. “Do it anyway.”
So Asher did. He took his time about it, one slick finger and then two, working Patrick open in no hurry at all, watching every shift in his face in the low light.
Patrick’s breath caught. His jaw went slack.
His hips started moving against Asher’s hand, and the second he caught himself doing it, he went still, like he could think his way back to control if he concentrated hard enough.
“Nope,” Asher said, crooking his fingers until Patrick’s whole body jerked and a broken sound punched out of him. “None of that. You don’t get to manage this one. Stay with me.”
He found the place that made Patrick stop being careful and worked it slow and relentless until the tension Patrick carried everywhere, his shoulders, his jaw, his hands, started bleeding out of him.
Asher kept him right at the edge, building him up and backing off every time his breath went sharp, not letting him tip over until Patrick was loose and shaking, past pretending he wasn’t.
“There you go,” Asher murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee, fingers still moving deep and slow. “That’s it. That’s all you have to do. Just feel it. I’ve got you.”
Patrick’s head went back. There was no control left in him to lose, nothing held back, just Asher’s hands, Asher’s voice, the helpless roll of his own hips chasing more.
The sounds coming out of him were broken, half of them Asher’s name.
Asher had never wanted anything in his life the way he wanted him right then.
“Asher.” Patrick’s hand found his wrist, not stopping him, just holding on, his voice wrecked clean through. “Please. I’m ready. I want you. Now.”
Asher got the condom from the nightstand and rolled it on, hands still not steady.
He slicked himself, lined up, and pushed in slowly, watching Patrick’s face the whole way for anything that meant stop.
Nothing did. What came instead was the long unsteady rush of Patrick’s breath leaving him, his hands gripping Asher’s back, his body taking him in by degrees until Asher was all the way home and they were both shaking with it.
For a second neither of them moved. Asher held there, braced over him, their foreheads nearly touching, both of them breathing the same air. Whatever was on Asher’s face, the same thing was on Patrick’s, right out in the open with nothing pulled over it.
“Patrick,” Asher breathed because it was the only word he had left.
Patrick huffed something close to a laugh, strained, and his hips shifted under him. “Move. Please.”