34. Boyfriend
thirty-four
Boyfriend
Archer
Liam’s lying there on my floor, a strung-out, gorgeous, boneless mess. Completely naked. Completely perfect. Taken apart. By me. He’s my piece of heaven.
But I get all of five seconds to enjoy the view, then he’s up, like a wild thing. There’s even less time to think, and Liam dives for my cock.
“Oh, god!” I shout the words, slamming my hands down on his shoulders for stability. He arches against the touch, bracing me, on all fours, and damn it, he is not helping with my resolve to not turn him around and fuck him.
I have no lube. I have no condoms. I think it would be a really bad idea for me to run out of here to try to find some, traversing non-warded spaces, and risking losing this moment to the many ghosts of the place.
But the sounds he’s making. He is begging me for it. Quite literally has been begging me for some time now. I want so much to make him happy. But for my part? There are no words to describe the hot and wet haven of his mouth.
A cry racks out of him, and he comes off my dick. “I can still feel it!”
“What-ohhhh!” He doesn’t pause another second. This time he’s determined. And I was already so near the edge. I probably would have been a mortifying disappointment of three whole seconds had I gone ahead with what he wanted. And now he’s doing this and I can’t hold on. I can’t.
“Liam, I can’t. I’m going to…”
He smacks a hand down on my thigh, wrenches me in, and I explode into his mouth, just like he wanted, a hand dropping into his hair, holding him.
But Liam goes just as rigid as I have. His body shakes just as mine does.
I cry out in ecstasy, and he swallows around my dick, his breath coming just as deep and fast as mine.
It’s like he’s…
That’s not possible.
Liam’s head tilts up, and the trail of spit my cock leaves on his swollen and used lips is pure pornography. The wrung-out pallor in his cheeks, the glassy, sex-drunk haze of his eyes. He’s a mirror to me, only…
He rises up, his chest presses against mine, his kiss takes me, and his thigh, when it touches mine, is dripping wet.
He drops his head on my shoulder, whispering, “How did you do that?”
“How did…” My hands run over him, desperate for more of him, to hold him and keep him, and my mind can barely function after what’s just happened.
“You made me…” He breathes heavily against me, then nuzzles into my neck, like he’s shy again. “How did you make me come twice? I just… It was seconds apart.”
“I did?” Liam said he could feel it—all the pleasure I was feeling, just the way I felt all the energy radiating from him, each gasp like it was my own orgasm. But this is… this is unheard of.
“It’s sex magic,” he says, kissing up my neck. “It’s some kind of sex magic, isn’t it? It has to be. That’s not…”
I wrap my arms around him, take him back down to the carpet with me, bring his head onto my arm and pull him towards me, face to face.
“I’ve never experienced anything like that.
” My words come out earnest, some odd guilt twisting inside, like he might think I’ve tricked him, done some weird, freaky supernatural thing that I should have warned him about.
But how could I have known? I’ve had sex, sure. There have been men. But I’ve never felt this. And I’ve never had another person say they felt it either.
Liam’s fingertips dig into my chest, and he kisses me, eyes still floating in that haze of pleasure. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Heat floods my face, pride, and adoration, and the feeling of being adored all mixed up together.
Liam’s so lovely. He’s such a warm person when he lets his guard down.
He feels so good here in my arms. This feels right.
Beyond right. This feels… meant to be. Like everything is finally in order.
Like all the years I’ve spent alone, and all the years he’s run himself ragged, missing out, always missing out, are stopping now.
Two paths, linear, now finally intersecting, bringing everything together.
I want to keep him here. I want to think about this as a real thing. A thing that doesn’t stop in a few days or a week when I get too weird with all my ghosts, or when he… moves onto his next job.
The disappointment of the idea grips me. He’s here for a purpose. These days, where he can stay all day with me, they end. Just as soon as we fix the problem that’s just on the other side of that closed and warded door, he has to go.
If Liam’s thinking the same thought, he doesn’t let on. He draws paths through my chest hairs, studies my eyes and my lips, looks at me like I’m beautiful. Then says, “If I work really hard, Archer… please will you fuck me tomorrow?”
The groan rips out of my heart and my chest. “Don’t. Or I’ll turn you over and do it right now.”
Of course that only makes him thrust his pelvis against me, kissing me again, like some master seducer I can barely resist.
I smack a hand down on his ass, which makes him cry out in faux offence.
“I hear beds are a whole thing,” I tell him.
He flops onto his back sulkily. “I hear they’re overrated.”
So I roll onto my stomach next to him. “How about tomorrow? When I’ve had a chance to go to the shop?”
His big eyes flash up to mine. “Is that why?”
“That’s the only reason why.”
He nods. Smiles. Focuses his gaze on the ceiling. “I haven’t been with anyone, you know? In a long time. And, from what you’ve said, I get the impression…”
“Neither have I,” I laugh out, kissing his shoulder.
“Okay. Might be worth knowing. For… next time.” He shoots me another fast look, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over this juxtaposition of him. Shy sweetheart versus dirty-mouthed sex pot. The way he flips back and forth so fast. It’s adorable. It’s exciting.
I let my hand fall on his stomach and lay my head down. His arm comes around me to pull me close. And we just lie here. Lie together, the seconds ticking by, perfectly content. More content than I think I’ve ever been.
I wish I could stop time. I wish I really did have magic, so I could still the movement of the clock, put those sands back in the hourglass. No future, no past, just the two of us, lying here, happy.
But eventually Liam’s hand sweeps over my temple, a feather-light touch that still manages to say, that’s enough. He slips from my grasp, reaching for his overalls.
“You’re not going already, are you?” I moan out, keeping my hand on his thigh.
He chuckles. “We’ve got work to do.”
“You didn’t actually come here to work, did you?”
Another gorgeous laugh. “Believe it or not, I actually did.”
I wrestle him back down to the floor, even as he half-heartedly protests, all while he lets me dominate him, lean over him and kiss him again.
“Why don’t we go out?” The wild idea is already forming solid in my mind. “There’s a nice pub in the village. Fireplace, huge meals. What if we go there? Spend the whole afternoon by the fire and just talk?”
“Like normal boyfriends?” he asks me softly.
The words are so sweet. The idea is so monumental. I sweep a lock of hair back from his forehead, the blooming beauty of him like a new chapter unfolding. No, a whole new book. A series. One that might never end… “Would you be my boyfriend?”
The instant smile could light up half the planet.
“Yes!” he cries. “Yes! Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.
Yes!” He leans up for a kiss, sweeping me up in his contagious laughter, enthusiasm, general cuteness.
“But we’re not going out to the pub all afternoon.
” With that, he sits all the way up, slipping out of my reach to kick his legs into his overalls.
“Why?” I practically wail. “What have we got to do here besides maybe getting killed?”
He flicks a stern look back at me. “How nice will it be here if you can’t maybe get killed?”
“Yeah, but…” My hand slides down his muscular back as he hides his nice ass with his annoyingly existent clothing. “How much nicer would it be to just wait a while, then…” I trail off suggestively.
He replies with a deadpan, “You need to go to the shop.”
So serious about getting fucked, this man is.
I give up with a groan as he climbs to his feet, clipping one of his buckles with brutal finality.
Then my pyjamas land on my face.
“Rude,” I protest, fighting them off me.
But he only throws me a grin. “Up. We’ve got work to do.”