11. Lane #2
Lane let go of Rowan’s wrist, about to apologize.
Soft words met his ears. “You like it?”
Lane twisted around. Rowan looked raw, his face unguarded, expression unsure, and nearly skittish. Lane responded on instinct, cupping Rowan’s cheek. Soothing Rowan even as he was ready for him to flinch away.
Rowan leaned into his touch, a tiny, sweet gesture that said everything.
Lane smiled. “I love it. If you tell me exactly what you need, I’ll show you how much.”
Rowan’s eyes fluttered closed, and his cheeks darkened. “Lane…”
“You need me? My touch?”
Rowan shivered.
Lane’s heart melted. “Sexual touch?”
His eyes opened, expression shuttering ever so slightly. “What else?”
“I could hold you.”
Rowan scoffed. “Hold me?”
“Is that so strange? It’s okay to want comfort.”
The sharp shift in Rowan’s expression said he disagreed. Who’d made him believe he shouldn’t want comfort? Lane stroked Rowan’s cheek with his thumb, longing to prove otherwise.
When Rowan spoke, he sounded stiff, like he was closing off. “I have no problem asking for what I want.”
“Okay. Then ask, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”
Rowan’s jaw tensed beneath Lane’s palm, indecision warring in his eyes, his defiance slowly yielding. Then, like he’d made up his mind, Rowan’s tension fled. He leaned closer, his gaze searching but no longer unsure. “May I blow you?”
Lane’s grin was unstoppable. May I. Such sweet little words. If sex was where Rowan’s comfort lay, how he liked being taken care of, Lane had no objection. “Is that what you need? A mouthful of cock?”
Rowan’s features softened, his pupils dilating. “Yes. Please, Lane. May I suck your cock?” Everything about him was delicate, his tone betraying a hint of longing as he cast his gaze down, waiting for Lane’s answer. Giving up control.
Fucking perfect.
“You may.” Lane ran a hand through Rowan’s hair, and damn, he’d wanted to do that forever. He tilted Rowan’s head and met his stare. “Want me to tell you how I’d like my cock sucked?”
“Yes, take charge of me. That’s what I need.” The words came out fast, but soft. Desperate.
Lane bit back a growl as fierce pride raged in him. “Get up and kneel for me like a good boy, and I’ll take charge.”
Rowan whimpered, and the sound of pure pleasure went straight to Lane’s dick.
“Do you like being called a good boy?” he asked.
Rowan nodded, and Lane’s heart thudded with excitement.
“Go on then, be good for me.” He let go of Rowan’s hair and leaned against the pillows to watch as Rowan rose gracefully from the bed.
He grabbed a brush from the dresser and rid his hair of the tangles from the restless night, then set the brush aside. “Would you like me naked?”
“Yes.” Power shot through Lane, hot and thrilling as Rowan disrobed and set his boxer briefs neatly beside the brush. His ass was tight and perfectly curved. When he turned to face Lane, his thick cock hung hard and heavy between his thighs, framed by neatly trimmed dark hair. “Beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Rowan bowed his head and knelt on the carpet, hands folded behind his back, waiting.
Lane got out of bed and took his place in front of Rowan. “Look at me.” Rowan moved with vampire swiftness, stealing Lane’s breath. So, he liked eye contact. “Good,” Lane praised, and Rowan’s deep brown eyes flickered with a hint of orange.
“I want your attention on me,” Lane continued, and Rowan nodded with almost painful eagerness, his usual cold demeanor nothing but a distant memory. “There’s no need to wait for permission. If you need connection, I’m here to give it to you. It’s what I want.”
Rowan’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out, wetting them. “I need it.”
“Then you’ll have it.” Lane tangled a hand in Rowan’s hair. “This okay?”
“Yes,” he nearly moaned.
He pulled Rowan forward until his face was almost in his crotch. “Take out my cock and show me how much you want it.”
“Yes, Lane.” Rowan shivered. “Want it so much.” His hands ran up Lane’s thighs, over his underwear, and tucked into the waistband. He pulled the briefs down, letting Lane’s hard cock spring free and slap him in the face.
They both moaned.
Rowan mouthed Lane’s length, his hands occupied pulling the boxer briefs to the floor.
He pressed his face close, letting Lane’s tip catch on his lips, his cheek, as he dove in to lick Lane’s balls, each motion drenched with desperation, like getting his mouth on Lane was the only thing holding him together.
“That’s it,” Lane praised, running both hands through his hair. “Be a good boy and worship this cock.”
“I’ll be good,” Rowan murmured between licks. “I’ll be good.”
Fuck, Lane was already dizzy. An unrestrained Rowan was enough to get him high.
With a groan, Rowan swallowed Lane down, hands moving to work his balls, his eyes darting upward, seeking approval.
“Perfect, Rowan. So good.”
He moaned around Lane and worked him over like he was starved, the perfect combination of frantic and skilled. So hot and wet. Loud and unashamed to be sloppy.
“What a talented tongue. And you’re so fucking pretty. Never seen someone so gorgeous slurp on my cock. Perfect, pretty boy with perfect, pretty hair,” Lane babbled, and Rowan ate it up like it gave him life.
Shit, he really was needy. Lane had never been with anyone who’d gone this hard for praise. The more Lane talked, the more Rowan seemed to hang on his every word. It was fucking wonderful.
Too soon, Lane couldn’t string together a sentence. Rowan brought him to the back of his throat, and Lane almost came.
“Good. Oh, so good. Shit. Rowan.” Lane tugged him off and met his glowing orange eyes. “Let me see you jerk it, yeah, like that. Good boy. Get yourself off, and I’ll come in your sexy mouth.”
Rowan worked his cock, gaze pointed upward, moisture glistening at the corners of his eyes like little glowing jewels.
Lane eased into his mouth. He thrust, keeping it shallow, running his tip along the roof of Rowan’s mouth.
One more thrust, and he came with a cry.
Rowan swallowed as eagerly as he’d done everything else, his hand flying over his cock.
He let Lane fall from his lips and plunged his face into the crease along Lane’s groin. With a muffled whimper, he came, his whole body shuddering.
Lane cupped the back of his neck, his other hand in his hair. “So good, Rowan.”
Another tremble shook Rowan’s shoulders. He seemed completely undone. Maybe this was the only way he could unwind and truly let go. Lane could have laughed with joy at being able to give him this. He didn’t. Thank all that was damned. He couldn’t risk killing the mood.
Rowan seemed disinclined to pull away, so Lane knelt and pulled him close, resting Rowan’s head on his shoulder, and stroked his hair.
He’d almost say the stern vampire was touch-starved, but he couldn’t be, right? Rowan could easily have as much sex as he wanted. Lane doubted the bite night parties had ceased, and Rowan must have a line of partners waiting.
The things Rowan said last night came to mind: being conditioned to disappoint, his sire’s abuse of power. Lane was guessing, but maybe the touch-starved part of Rowan was old, and even after who knew how many years—decades, centuries—that pain still hadn’t healed.