Chapter 19 #2
By the time Caleb is satisfied, Asher is raw with desire. All thought chased out of his head, leaving the bare bones of something electric and needy behind.
Asher sucks in a sharp breath when Caleb first slides in, a slow, steady push that makes his heart pound. A flash of pain makes him wince. Caleb latches on to it immediately, kissing Asher and stroking his jaw, trying to distract him from the ache.
“Breathe,” Caleb murmurs. His voice is strained yet patient. “You’re doing so good.”
It burns, but despite that, a river of peace and safety meanders through Asher.
Here, there is no rush. No trepidation. Their world, their rules.
Just the two of them in every sense of it.
Caleb said Asher was his and looks at him like it is simply another fact of the world, like he’s helpless against it.
Like there was never a fight to begin with.
Asher’s cock leaks between them at that thought.
“Oh,” he hiccups when Caleb bottoms out.
Caleb peppers a series of shaky kisses over Asher’s face, and Asher could fucking cry.
Sometimes Asher feels like he’s on the verge of delirium with the way Caleb holds him with so much tenderness, as though he’s cradling an entire universe in the palm of his hands.
He’s breathless, stretched thin in the best of ways.
Then Caleb digs his teeth into Asher’s shoulder, making him gasp and clench.
Caleb groans, the vibration deep in his throat. Smirking, Asher clenches down on the hard cock inside him again.
“Fucking brat,” Caleb rumbles against his neck.
Just as achingly slow, Caleb leans back and withdraws before he sinks right back in.
Asher throws his arms around Caleb’s shoulders, keeping him close as they find a rhythm, bodies colliding, meeting each other halfway. Stars flare behind his eyelids at the delicious drag inside him.
It comes as no surprise that Caleb—the industry’s golden boy—knows exactly what Asher wants and gives it to him when he needs it most. Each thrust is impossibly deep, slamming right against that bundle of nerves.
Sparks race down Asher's back. A prickle of tears wells up as his heart launches into his throat.
Not pain, but the all-consuming ache of being completely and utterly taken.
It's a glittery champagne bubble of their own.
“Look at you, sweetheart. So perfect for me.”
Asher bathes in the praise, finally allowing himself to fall to pieces, glued back together into something new by Caleb’s hands as he takes Asher apart from the inside out.
He trembles as his impending orgasm creeps up, body dancing on that razor’s edge, teetering between feeling used and worshipped.
He thinks he’s squirming, writhing, really, sheets balled up in clenched fists as he tosses his head left and right.
Distantly registers himself begging “Please please please” in between punched-out gasps on particularly hard thrusts.
Sweat runs in Asher’s eyes and stings them, but Asher couldn’t care less.
He wants to see. The pain won’t last, but this moment will.
Caleb looks wrecked, just like Asher probably does—eyes wide, merely a thin ring of baby blues.
Caleb’s cheeks are pink from exertion, blond hair a sweaty mess, breathing ragged.
Tiny grunts spill out, Caleb focusing on Asher’s pleasure. And he just . . .
The thing is that Asher loves it when Caleb tells him he’s pretty.
That he’s perfect. It quiets a deep-seated need that has always lived inside of him, one that could easily be taken advantage of.
But no one ever tells Caleb how brave he is.
How hard he tries every single day. How much he gives.
He’s far from perfect, but he is inherently, daringly defiant with his very existence.
It is the best thing someone can ever be.
“I’m—ah—so close,” Asher moans. He’ll be embarrassed that noise later, when the capacity for thought returns to his fucked-out brain.
Liquid fire coils in his belly. He bites his wrist, trying to keep quiet as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.
It’s dizzying. But through the simmering heat, one sentiment powers through: love.
Love for how grounding Caleb’s steady touches are.
Love for his beating heart. Love for how Caleb makes him feel radiant with his care, wrapped in a bright light.
“Make your pretty noises for me, sweetheart,” Caleb commands, and the dam shatters.
Asher cries out into the room—frantic, feverish, bleeding into Caleb's low groans. He lets the pleasant, sultry fog ransack his body, whining as loudly as he desires. Tears slide down his cheeks as gasp after gasp scrapes out from deep within, mixed with the slick sound of Caleb fucking him relentlessly, the slap of skin against skin. And then he’s spilling all over himself, hiccuping as Caleb coaxes out every last drop.
He’s floating on a fucking cloud. Every time Caleb’s cock nudges up against that bundle of nerves, his body twitches, overstimulated.
He feels Caleb start to slow down and makes a wounded noise. “No. Don’t stop.”
“Don’t want to hurt you,” Caleb grits out, jaw trembling as he holds himself back. His eyes shine with concern when his body betrays a small thrust, making Asher inhale sharply.
“You won’t,” Asher pants. “C’mon. Fill me up.” His hips automatically cant upward, giving Caleb silent permission. He doesn’t want this to end. They have less than a day left and he just . . . can’t. His lips curl into a smirk as Caleb groans. “Make me yours.”
Caleb pins Asher to the bed with his gaze, questioning yet intense. “Want me to keep you here?”
Asher nods feverishly. Yes. Forever.
Tell me you want me to stay forever.
Tell me that heaven can wait.
He whines at the loss of contact when Caleb slips out, watches through hooded eyes as Caleb crosses the bedroom, over to the closet where Asher tossed his suitcase. He hears a rifling noise, and when the bed dips again, Caleb blinks down at him, Lanvin belt in hand.
A wave of interest ripples through Asher.
“Arms up,” Caleb orders.
Asher doesn’t bother fighting. He raises both arms, lets Caleb maneuver them until they’re crossed at the wrist, and feels the cool leather tighten around them, keeping him bound.
“Okay?” Caleb asks. “Use your words.”
“Very okay,” Asher sighs. He tugs on the restraints, testing it. It aches a little, but in a pleasant way. So, he’s great. He is mentally on fucking Jupiter.
He sees the second Caleb’s control visibly snaps. Slinging Asher’s legs over his shoulders, he practically folds Asher in half, sliding home and pounding into him as he picks up a brutal, almost punishing pace. Asher’s mouth falls open in a wordless wail.
“Perfect. Fucking perfect,” Caleb murmurs, the approving note its own kind of pleasure saturating Asher in a hazy afterglow.
And it is. It’s everything Asher’s wants—sweet yet sexy, tender yet intense.
There’s an admission on his tongue, but it won’t get past his lips because it would change everything.
It'd dial them up to a hundred, his heart reaching for Caleb's valiantly beating one and curling up against it, desperately trying to fuse into a whole.
How will he ever survive then if it gets ripped apart?
Like all good things, this one comes to an end. Caleb’s eyes go glassy and his hips stutter. He buries his face in Asher neck, a low, drawn-out groan making Asher’s skin vibrate as he spills deep inside Asher, powerful thrusts slowing to a gentle grind.
It takes a few minutes before Caleb is able to pull back.
When he does, Asher sighs contentedly at the warmth that seeps out of him and runs down his thigh.
His cock makes a valiant attempt at going for another round when Caleb gathers his come up and stuffs it back in, lazily curling his fingers and making Asher feel thoroughly full.
He’s in heaven after all. Surely this must be it. He’s decided that he’s religious now.
Caleb reaches up to free Asher’s wrists, massaging the skin there before he leans back down and brackets Asher’s head between his forearms. Their noses brush slightly.
A small, delirious giggle slips out of Asher’s mouth when Caleb—skin glowing and eyes squinting with joy—brushes a stray strand of hair off his cheek with all the tenderness in the world.
They stay like that for a while, caressing each other with gentle touches as they catch their breaths and come down from the high.
Caleb drops a kiss on Asher’s nose, each eyelid, and finally his lips, whispering about how lovely he looks, how wonderful he made him feel.
The first thing Asher says when he can speak again is, “You owe Thea ten bucks.”
Caleb blinks in surprise. “Me?”
“We made a bet about the belt,” Asher explains. “I said you wouldn’t do anything weird with it, so . . .”
“Okay? So why am I the one giving her the money?”
“Because you did this!” Asher argues.
“Fine,” Caleb says. He rolls his eyes. “I guess you’re worth ten bucks.”
Caleb is gentle as he rearranges them. He pulls Asher onto his chest and Asher lets himself be lulled by the steady beat of Caleb’s heart, the way it’s always been.
After, they make out in a cocoon of comforters that Asher tosses onto his bedroom floor like they’re having a sleepover.
And for a few hours, they’re young again.
Safe. Untouched by the world. Caleb steals kiss after kiss from Asher.
Lets his defenses down and allows Asher take him apart in increments, ghosting breaths and fingertips over Caleb’s collarbones, his ankles, his soft spine.
Presses lazy kisses to Caleb’s fingertips, knuckles, and the thin skin over his pulse point.
Asher loves getting to have him like this—raw and unafraid to want.