Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ASHER
Caleb is a cheater, and Asher is going to sue.
“That was a fast count!” Asher argues. He struggles to break free, but no dice. Caleb has his arms pinned firmly to the floor. The marble tiles are cold against his skin, and an involuntary shudder rattles through him. “This is why we have referees!”
Smirking, Caleb eases up. Just a tad, but it is more than enough. Asher hooks a leg across Caleb’s waist and flips them over in a reversal, knees straddling Caleb’s hips, and winces a little when the plates lining his brace click against the hard ground.
“Point to me,” Asher sings. He leans down and takes his reward: a peck on the tip of Caleb’s nose.
“Oof,” Caleb grunts, but his gaze is nothing but fond.
They fight for a bit, rolling around the living room, bumping into the furniture and making a mess. It’s more a playful squabble than anything else but they remain endlessly competitive, even when out of a ring.
Finally, Caleb manages to wrangle Asher’s hands above his head in a loose, teasing grip. If not for the wicked look on Caleb’s face pinning him down, Asher would probably have fought harder to break free.
“I win,” Caleb murmurs against Asher’s ear. He moves lower and sucks another bruise into the growing medley that peppers Asher’s neck.
“That’s gonna be a bitch to cover up,” Asher complains, gasping despite himself when Caleb kisses a sensitive spot there. “I’m corrupting you. You’re the nightmare now.”
With a satisfied hum, Caleb scrapes his teeth down Asher’s collarbone, then runs a soothing tongue over the overheated skin. “Got any better plans?” he asks. “How much longer do we have the house to ourselves?”
“Enough time for a wonderful idea, as it turns out.” Asher leaves a featherlight kiss beneath Caleb’s ear and whispers, “But I’m too old to get fucked on the ground; you’ll mess up my back.”
Caleb stills. “Really?”
Cupping his jaw, Asher smiles. “Yeah. You’ve been so patient.”
“Of course.” Caleb looks downright giddy. He buries his face in the crook of Asher’s neck and Asher can feel the upturn of Caleb’s lips against his skin. “You’re mine.”
“Yours.”
Always. I’ve always been yours.
Part of him still wants to believe that they will find a way. He will do anything to make it happen. There has to be a solution.
But for now, he just says, “Fuck me. Please.”
Chuckling, Caleb tugs Asher to his wobbly feet. It takes them several tries to reach the bedroom, stopping to press each other up against every surface, gasping and giggling along the way.
When Caleb pulls Asher’s shirt over his head, taking extra care not to irritate the still-tender lines left there by his past matches, Asher feels his heart flutter, like butterflies could pour out of his mouth.
Because oh. He is safe. He is cared for, without needing to put any part of his body or soul on the line to earn it. He is home in every sense of the word.
“Everything okay?” Caleb asks. He brushes a thumb across Asher’s jaw. “Your eyes went all distant.”
“Just thinking about how good you make me feel,” Asher replies earnestly. He drops to his knees, pre-emptively wincing each time he goes down too hard. But the pain never comes, because Caleb’s already placed a pillow on the ground for him. That’s exactly what Caleb is—his soft landing.
“May I—” Asher gasps out. He automatically clasps his hands behind his back. When he knows he’s safe and sound, he can sink into that fuzzy headspace with the snap of Caleb’s fingers.
It’s hard being in Asher’s brain sometimes.
The second he wakes up, his thoughts go a million miles per hour over the speed limit.
There is no reprieve. It gets exhausting.
Makes it hard to focus. Couple that with the fact that Asher has had to be perfect all his life.
He watches everything he says, controls everything he does, remains on point and hits his mark or risks devastation.
Contrast that with Caleb who has gone years stripped of his autonomy, who has been made to feel as though his hands are damned, monstrous things only capable of inflicting pain.
But like the exhale of a turbulent wave, Asher’s body stills when on his knees before Caleb.
His mind goes wonderfully silent. All that remains is Caleb.
Caleb, who protects him fiercely. Caleb, who tells Asher what to do, and Asher will be so good for him.
Like moving in lockstep, in turn, Caleb gets to take back control that Asher readily gives up.
In Caleb’s capable hands, Asher turns to putty and Caleb molds him into something beautiful.
Caleb winds his fingers in Asher’s hair, yanking by the root and forcing Asher to look up at him. “You want to suck me?” Caleb asks. He drags a thumb across Asher’s bottom lip, pushing inside just enough for Asher to lap up the salt and heat on it, and come away wet. “Are you my good boy?”
Nearly vibrating out of his skin, Asher whimpers.
Keeping one hand in Asher’s hair, Caleb uses the other to guide his cock to Asher’s parted lips, teasing him, watching what he will do.
Asher kisses the tip of Caleb’s cock, reveling in the salty smear of precome on his lips. I’m good. The thought buzzes through him like the wings of tiny fireflies. I’m so good.
It must be true, because Caleb tells him, “Take what you want.”
Asher nuzzles the base of Caleb’s cock. His heartbeat slows, lulled by the comfortingly familiar scent. “Yeah?” he asks.
Above, Caleb's shivers. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You earned it.”
That is all the permission Asher needs. He gives in to his hunger, all but melting against Caleb and begins to suck in earnest. He takes Caleb deep.
Lets it get wet and messy. Loses himself in the dull ache slowly settling in his jaw, one that always borders on pleasure.
He moans around Caleb, vision blurry as he alternates between flicking his tongue over the slit, and sucking and bobbing his head, holding his breath each time Caleb’s cock nudges the back of his throat.
“Fuck. Sweetheart,” Caleb chokes out.
Warmth skates through Asher at the awe in Caleb’s voice.
He doubles his efforts, urging Caleb to the edge, cheeks wet as something inside Caleb snaps and he picks up the pace, hips jerking, using Asher, telling Asher he makes him feel so good, that he’s perfect.
And Asher is going to lose it. He’s going to come like this, like an animal, cock twitching at the praise, completely untouched, drooling over Caleb and moaning every time he can suck in a ragged breath.
Out of nowhere, Caleb flexes his fingers in Asher’s hair, gripping it tight and stopping his movement.
A reluctant sigh-turned-whimper escapes as Caleb pulls back, cock slipping out of Asher’s mouth with an obscene noise. “Why’d you stop me?” Asher rasps. He’s pouting, but in that distant, blissfully hazy place his mind has retreated to, he can’t bring himself to care.
“Wanna see the look on your face when I come inside you,” Caleb says, as if Asher’s brain doesn’t go pleasantly fuzzy at that mental image. His arms support Asher’s loose limbs and pull him by the sway of his waist into a fierce kiss.
Asher lets Caleb guide him backward, content to let his thoughts unspool as he thinks about Caleb marking him. Owning him. Claiming him. When the back of his knees hit the bed, he tumbles onto the sheets and immediately reaches for Caleb again.
“Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Give me a sec.”
Caleb gropes around the nightstand for his toiletry kit where the bottle of travel-sized lube is stashed, and Asher holds still, being good for him, sopping up the praise as Caleb sucks a bruise onto his inner thigh and tells him how pretty he is.
Asher preens, feeling glittery all over. His cock twitches against his stomach.
“On your front or back? What’ll be the most comfortable for you?”
“Want to see you,” Asher mumbles, deep in concentration. His hands fist the comforter beneath him as Caleb leaves another bruise. This one is near his knee, along the edge of his brace. He shivers.
Then Caleb leans back, frowning.
Asher touches shaky fingers to Caleb’s cheek. “Everything okay?”
“Uh.” Caleb runs a hand through his hair. He glances at the toiletry kit. “Condom?”
Oh.
Asher bites his lip. “Got tested after the Performance Center. Negative.” He riffles through every emotion coursing through him. Not a hint of uncertainty. “Plus, I’m on PrEP.”
Caleb’s voice frays around the edges, straining as he says, “Same.”
“You’re all I want,” Asher finally says. He can take the reins for a moment to give Caleb the reprieve he needs. He stretches up to give Caleb a kiss, tries to put all his conviction and reassurance into it. It’s okay. I’m ready. You. It’s always been you. Only you.
Uncapping the bottle, Caleb bows his head.
His fingertips ghost across Asher’s sternum and down to the jut of his hips, as though he will burn if he touches Asher for too long.
Inhaling shakily, he slicks up his fingers, warming them, and presses an experimental digit against Asher’s rim.
Asher wills his body to relax. Slowly, gently, only betraying a slight tremble, Caleb slips in.
By the time he’s able to fit a second finger, Asher is already falling apart.
He squirms as Caleb slowly works him open, impatient. “Hurry up,” he whines. Warmth skates down his neck and chest. “I can take it.”
All that earns is a slap on his thigh for all his trouble.
“You’ll take whatever I give you,” Caleb tells him. He adds a third finger, Asher hissing at the burn before Caleb quietly but sternly says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please.” Asher can’t even imagine how he must look right now—writhing, babbling, drooling onto the sheets. Then Caleb crooks his fingers and Asher jolts. Nothing but a cliché as stars erupt across his vision. When he finally manages to drag his eyes open, Caleb is staring at him, slack-jawed.
“Christ, you are heaven sent,” he says before he curls his fingers again, and Asher loses all grasp on the English language.