Chapter Seventeen
Abbott
What the hell am I doing? This is wrong on every level imaginable.
It has to be some kind of Stockholm thing.
I’m too smart not to know that, but right now, it doesn’t matter.
All I want is to feel good, to be wanted, to have the touch of another person grounding me, making me forget this fucked-up moment I’ve found myself in—the one where I’ve realized that I may have saved countless lives, but I’ve made no meaningful connection in my own.
That even though I’m a son, I’m not loved as one. I’m a doctor, but I’m not a friend or a lover.
With Rian, though, at least right now, I am one—or both—friend and lover. Person to talk to, because he does talk to me, shares things with me that he shouldn’t, and he said those three words that I shouldn’t want, that I shouldn’t believe, but I do on both accounts.
I’ll miss you.
I kiss him deeper, fingertips digging into his hips, trying to find purchase in him, like if I let him go, I’m going to drift away.
He growls into my mouth, feeds me his tongue, sweeps it through my mouth like he needs to taste every inch of me.
And I want him to. Christ, it’s fucked up and wrong, but I want him to.
Not breaking our kiss, Rian pulls me over, then pushes me against the porch railing. I go easily, not caring what he does with me as long as he doesn’t stop kissing me.
Rian presses his body against mine. It’s slightly awkward because of the sling, but I can smell him—the slight tinge of perspiration on his skin, feel the hard length of his cock against mine as he ruts on me, good hand tangled at the back of my hair, kissing me senseless.
I let my hands roam up and down his back, feeling each hard muscle there, how it constricts and moves with him.
My dick is achingly hard, a constant throb between my legs that pulses harder and harder with each second that goes by.
“Fuck, you taste good,” Rian says, voice raspy in a way I’ve never heard it, mouth trailing down my throat, licking and sucking along the way.
“Have you ever…?”
“No,” he answers, obviously not needing me to continue my question. Has he ever been with a man before? He’s apparently part of the queer mob or whatever it is they do, so I’m no longer sure about his sexuality.
“Here, let me,” I say, before easing him away from me.
Rian goes, though the question on his face is there. He’s not sure what I’m doing.
I trade positions with him, let him press his back against the beam and railing, stand in front of him—this sexy, ruthless murderer who is…kind, and sad, but who wouldn’t kiss me until he knew I wanted it.
I press our lips together again, more slowly this time, over and over and over. My tongue dips inside, Rian’s good hand moving to my hip, holding me while I enjoy his mouth.
Like he’d done to me seconds ago, I kiss down his throat, lick at his skin, taste his cross necklace, and then the rapid, strong beat of his pulse, and I savor the way it thuds against my tongue.
I keep going, wishing I could take off his shirt, but it would be too much of a hassle right now with his sling, so I kiss his arm, lift the sleeve, lick and suck at his strong biceps, worshipping his body.
“Fuck,” Rian grits out through a tight mouth as though no one has done this for him before.
I kiss my way down his arm, then kneel in front of him, sucking one of his fingers, then two into my mouth, like I’m blowing them.
“Jesus, Abbott…”
I can’t stop myself from smiling, practically beaming at the feeling of making this man lose control. He’s wound so tight, so disciplined. I want to be the reason he lets that go.
I let my tongue twist around his fingers before pulling back, shoving his shirt up his stomach, and then kissing his salty skin there, enjoying the feel of his happy trail against my tongue…sucking…licking, savoring.
At least I’ll have this before I die, the pleasure of a man’s body, of being on my knees, of making him come…and hoping he does the same for me.
Rian threads the fingers of his right hand through my hair, tightens his hold there, and tilts my head up so I’m looking at him.
“What are you doing to me?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But I don’t know what you’re doing to me either.”
He takes a breath. I see it, hear it, then he slips his hand around, pushing his thumb into my mouth. I suck that too, then close my eyes when he slips free, rubbing it and my saliva all over my face.
“I want to suck you.” Just to make sure he knows what I mean, I touch his thigh, slowly sliding my hand upward, until I cup the massive bulge between his legs. “Fuck, you’re big. I’ve always loved a big, fat cock. I want yours, Rian.”
The dick in question twitches beneath my palm as a low rumble comes out of him.
“Fuck yes. Do it.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
Eagerly, I work open the button and zipper on his pants. Rian pulls away from the railing so I can tug his pants down, taking his boxer briefs with them.
I’ve seen him soft over the last week, but never hard as stone the way he is now.
His dick is definitely a thing of beauty—thick and veiny, the head flushed darker than the rest, balls heavy and full, his pubes dark and wispy.
He has thick dark hair on his thighs, and I again wish I could take off his shirt and bury my face between his pecs and the dark hair I know he has there, too.
“You have a pretty cock,” I tell him, stroking it, watching precum pearl at the tip.
“Yeah?” Rian asks. “I’ve never thought of a dick as pretty before, but it’s hungry for your mouth.”
My smile starts in my chest, then finds its way to my lips. “Good thing I’m hungry for it too.”
I lower my face to his nuts first, breathe in the earthy, musky scent of him, so fucking glad that we’re not doing this for the first time right after a shower.
I only want the scent of Rian, the taste of Rian, and I get my first sample when my tongue slips out, lashing against his full balls.
“Oh fuck,” I say, then do it again, licking and sucking at his sac, and I already feel like I’m getting drunk off him. I make quick work of getting to his dick, tongue flicking along the base before I slide up his delicious shaft, not stopping until I get to the tip.
When I look up at him, Rian is staring down at me, an almost lightness to his eyes that I’ve never seen before. It’s there, though—the pleasure and openness, mixed with desire.
I give him what we both want, sucking his crown into my mouth, taking him deeper, bobbing on his lip-stretching cock, hands on his thighs, one of his in my hair.
Our eyes stay locked as I suck him, swallowing around him when he hits the back of my throat.
I don’t know if it’s the situation, Rian, or if there’s something wrong with me that I never realized before, but this is the hottest moment of my life—outside, hard wood against my knees, sucking the dick of a man who I absolutely shouldn’t want but somehow do.
The hairs on his thigh are rough against my palm as I slide my hand up to his balls, playing with them, testing the weight of them as I enjoy the mouthwatering cock between my lips right now.
I’m throbbing harder and harder the more I suck him, my own orgasm teasing me.
I’ve always enjoyed sucking dick, but doing it to this man, seeing the way his mouth drops open, his pupils nearly taking over the green of his irises, and the…
care with which he looks at me, makes the pleasure more potent.
“Jesus, you’re killing me. You look so sexy on your knees for me, your mouth full of my cock. Why do I want you?” The question is asked softer than the rest of his words, filled with honest wonder.
I pull off his dick, kiss the tip, swirl my tongue around the head.
“I don’t know why I want you either,” I admit, giving his cock another gentle press of my lips, this one down the side. “But I do.” Another kiss on the other side. “Give me pleasure, Rian. If you’re going to kill me, you at least owe me that. Make me feel good before you do it.” Another kiss.
His nostrils flare, and then he’s rubbing his dick all over my face, the way he’d done with his fingers not long ago. I lick the parts of him I can reach, but it doesn’t last long, and Rian is pushing his cock into my mouth again.
“You deserve better than this, better than me, but I’ve never claimed to be a good man. If you want me, I’m going to fucking give myself to you, because lord help me, I crave you.”
When he pulls back, I don’t hold back from telling him exactly what I want.
“Come on my face,” I say, the surprise seemingly making him pull back farther.
“I want it. I like it. I want you to give it to me, Rian. Mark me. Make me feel like I belong to someone.” Because I never have, have I?
Felt that way? Hell, maybe I never wanted it until this moment either.
It might be because I realized now that I have no meaningful relationships in my life, that I’ve never really mattered to anyone outside of what I can do for them in the operating room, and in a strange, fucked-up way, this will make me feel like I’m Rian’s.
“Make yourself come too. I want to see you lose control,” he says firmly, his voice not leaving room for discussion, though it’s not as if I’m going to argue anyway. I open my pants and shove those and my underwear down.
The second I touch my dick, I nearly come right there, cock slick with precum, the ride rough without lube, but I’m too turned on to care.
“Fuck,” he says, then spits into his palm, takes his dick in hand, and strokes.
The muscles in his neck tighten, his face set in this blend of concentration and pleasure as he jerks himself off for me, as I do the same thing for him.
Rian really is a thing to behold—beautiful in the most masculine way—strong, intense, and in this moment, letting go in a way he looks like he desperately needs.
And I’m the one giving it to him.
“You want it?” he asks, working his cock desperately.
“Yes. Give it to me. I want your load,” I beg, and just that quickly, he shatters, crying out, biting into his bottom lip as the first spurt of his release lands on my cheek, another on my lip, then chin—his cum hot and thick, and when it drips into my mouth, I get to taste how delicious he is.
He shoots once more, landing partially on my nose and lip as my own orgasm rips out of me.
It’s like every pleasure receptor in my body lights up, explodes with too many beautiful sensations to even focus.
My cum lands on the porch, some on his bare foot and pants.
I continue to work myself through my orgasm until my balls are wrung dry.
Rian rubs the tip of his cock against my cheek, wiping the head of his cock clean on my skin. “Look at you,” he says. “Sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Christ, Abbott. Such a pretty little thing.”
I don’t answer, don’t have time, before he’s reaching out, rubbing his cum into my face. He feeds me some of it, and I take it eagerly, suck his fingers clean like this is my last meal, but most of it I wear…for him.
Actually, it’s for me too.