Chapter 18 #2
When Javi finally let the ball slip out of his mouth, it slapped slick and hot against Cloister’s thigh.
Then he turned his attention, and tongue, to Cloister’s cock.
The long, slow lick from the base to the tip made Cloister groan.
When Javi lingered at the head, sucking the dribble of precome up from the slit, Cloister had to pull his hand from dark curls to save himself from temptation.
He slid his hand down under Javi’s collar, starched white cotton scratchy against his knuckles, and spread his fingers over the nape of his neck.
“I’d tell you to be worried,” Javi drawled as he finally let Cloister’s cock slip out of his mouth. He wiped his thumb over his lower lip and then licked the pad clean as he looked at Cloister. “But God knows what you could get out of me right now.”
Cloister took a ragged breath; the air felt hot in his chest, or maybe that was just him.
“If I asked,” he said.
Javi braced his hands on the windows and pushed himself up, “walking” them up the glass until he was face-to-face with Cloister.
They studied each other for a moment, sober despite the sweat and the ache and the need.
Dark curls fell over Javi’s forehead, shadows that flicked down over his eyebrows.
“If you asked.”
Cloister kissed him. The taste of his own come didn’t taste that much different than Javi’s on his tongue, salty and a little sharp.
“I can wait,” he offered against Javi’s mouth.
Javi turned his head to nuzzle Cloister’s jaw, brushing a kiss over the fuzz of stubble.
“How long?”
Cloister took a shaky Javi-warm breath as he thought.
“A month?” he offered.
The startled laugh snorted against his throat, wet and spluttered and inelegant. Javi lifted his head and looked at Cloister.
“God, I love you,” he said, the words light and thoughtless.
Cloister waited for a retraction. He got a kiss instead, Javi’s fingers around his chin and the feel of his smile-crooked mouth sweet and easy on his. When he realized the statement was being left to stand, he felt a queasy fizz of hopeful panic bubble up in his chest.
Say something.
Cloister supposed that was a good idea. He was working on it.
It was just hard to think in words while Javi’s hand was trailing down his side.
His fingers traced the tangled spray of scar tissue and ink that stretched over Cloister’s rib cage.
The memory of Kincaid’s comment on the old accident flicked through Cloister’s mind.
It made the back of his neck crawl and his tongue feel numb in his mouth.
Before he could shove the memory aside, Javi’s hand slid further down. The caress ended at his hip, and Cloister whimpered into Javi’s mouth for more.
Anything else, his brain prompted him.
“You—” was as far as he got before he felt Javi’s bare foot tuck behind his ankle and he was deftly flipped around to face the window.
He blinked at his dim reflection in the glass, mouth flushed and wet, eyes dark and glazed as his breath misted on the cool surface.
Later, he told himself, it could wait till later.
Then he felt Javi’s mouth on his bare shoulder. The dull sting of it surprised him for a moment; then he remembered the hot scrape of buckshot over his head from earlier.
“You didn’t show me these.”
“I forgot,” Cloister admitted. He twisted his head around to brush a clumsy, off-center kiss over Javi’s temple. “It’s not that bad. I had to trash the T-shirt, though.”
“Always a silver lining,” Javi said sardonically.
Despite the dry bite of his tone, he was gentle as he explored the scrapes and scuffs with his mouth and fingers.
The gentle, barely-there touches sizzled under Cloister’s skin and made his cock twitch, bumping against the glass and leaving a smear of cum on the clean surface.
He tried to squirm around for a kiss, but Javi’s hand on his shoulder pushed him back up against the window.
“Stay,” he said, his voice low and rough.
Cloister bristled at the command, but the rasp of it made his balls tighten up to his body with heavy eagerness at the same time.
His cock won that argument, and he did as he was told.
Cloister lifted one arm to brace against the glass and rested his head on his forearm.
He watched Javi’s reflection as he stepped back and unzipped his trousers to skin them off down long legs.
The fact that he flicked them neatly and folded them over the back of the couch—unlike Cloister’s trousers, kicked into a puddle on the floor—made the corner of Cloister’s mouth tick up with amusement.
That was blistered away with heat as Javi stripped off his fitted briefs, his cock thick and heavy between his thighs.
Cloister swallowed, his throat sticky, and reached down to wrap his fingers around his cock. He dragged his fist along the shaft in slow, tight strokes as heat knotted tighter in the pit of his stomach and his thighs. Anticipation twitched along his taint to his asshole, and he bit his lower lip.
“Did I tell you to touch yourself?” Javi asked as he unbuttoned his collar
Cloister smirked at him. “Didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Javi walked back over and slapped his ass lightly. It didn’t hurt, but it still made Cloister jerk in surprise and tighten his fingers around his cock. That made him suck in a raw, hungry breath. Javi rubbed the hot spot on Cloister’s ass as he leaned to scrape his teeth over Cloister’s shoulder.
“Wouldn’t you rather it was my hand?” he asked, his voice low and suggestive against Cloister’s ear.
The noise that escaped Cloister at that question was answer enough. Javi chuckled smugly and leaned back. He went back to working on his shirt. The fact he fumbled the familiar task, having to focus on flicking the small buttons free, was satisfying.
“You can leave it on,” Cloister suggested. “Why should I be the only one to ruin a shirt today?”
Besides, he liked how it looked on Javi. The white cotton contrasted with the soft browns of his skin, the color of Prairie Smoke in the summer, and shadowed the taut, hard lines of his body.
Javi smirked like Cloister had said all that out loud. He loosened the buttons on the cuffs and folded them back over his forearms.
This time, when Cloister bit down on his lip, it was to stop the whimper escaping. Apparently, one drawback of not screwing up your relationship was that your boyfriend learned exactly what to do to make your knees go weak.
“We'd better make it worth the dry cleaning bill, then,” Javi said, as he reached over to grab the lube out of the drawer. He twisted the tube off and squeezed it out into his hand, the warm, citrusy smell of ginger sharp in the air. “I can do that.”
His hand was cold against Cloister’s thigh, the gel thick and slippery. Cloister hitched in a breath as Javi’s hand slid up and between his ass cheeks, fingers slick as they pressed into his hole. His knuckles pressed against the glass, and the steady rhythm of his fist around his cock stuttered.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Going to,” Javi said.
He slid his hand free. Cloister’s body cramped around the absence, a quick, expectant ache, and then he felt Javi’s cock nudge into the crack of his ass.
Javi rocked his hips in a slow tease of a thrust, the hard length of him sliding between Cloister’s cheeks.
He wrapped his arm around Cloister’s waist, hand splayed flat against his stomach.
Cloister braced himself against the window and shifted his feet for balance. He knew what Javi wanted, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he tried to resist the urge to give it to him. It didn’t work. It never did.
“Please?” he groaned.
Javi made a pleased sound and kissed the nape of Cloister’s neck.
“Was that so hard?”
He pulled back slightly to adjust, and the head of his cock nudged against Cloister’s ass.
Cloister breathed in, his lungs filled with ginger and Javi, as he felt his body stretch around it.
Heat flushed through his stomach, and the dull ache of it throbbed hot and pleasurable at the base of his spine.
His palm left sweat prints on the glass as he braced himself.
Javi murmured something against his shoulder as he worked himself inside Cloister with slow, measured thrusts.
Pleasure and frustration twitched through Cloister in equal measure, tensing his muscles.
He rocked his hips back to meet Javi’s thrusts, ass spreading around the thickness of Javi’s cock as he twisted his fist roughly down his own shaft.
The knot of heat and lust in his gut twisted tighter, aftershocks of pleasure zapping down his skin and twitching through his balls.
One last thrust buried Javi inside him, lean, muscled thighs pressed against each other. Javi paused for a second, his body strung wire-taut against Cloister’s back; then he pulled out slowly, taking an almost painful amount of time, and Cloister felt the hollow ache of absence cramp in his guts.
He groaned in protest. Javi reached up and tangled his fingers in his hair to pull his head back, throat pulled tight and long. There was a pause as Javi admired the scene, in flesh and reflection, then scuffed a kiss over Cloister’s mouth and thrust back into him.
“I like your hair longer,” he panted raggedly into Cloister’s ear.
Cloister tried to chase Javi’s mouth, but only caught the hinge of his jaw. “Shame the sheriff’s department doesn’t agree.”