9. Merrick
Merrick
They made out on the couch for an hour before Wilder tapped him against the outside of the thigh and untangled their bodies.
“Time for bed,” Wilder said. “Are you staying the night?”
“Can I?” Merrick was painfully hard, desperate and leaking and overwhelmed. Nerves threatened when Wilder took him by the hand and walked him down the short hallway into the bedroom.
“Strip. Under the covers,” Wilder told him before disappearing from the room.
Merrick did what he was told, brain moving on autopilot in a way that only ever happened when he got into the flow of his art.
It could have been painting or tattooing, but there was always a time when his brain went into a state of performance where he didn’t even need to think to know what would happen next.
Merrick could see the finished piece in his mind like it was real, and his brain kicked into control to make it happen.
Wilder giving him orders activated the same parts of his brain, and everything else went quiet.
There was no guesswork involved, no worrying about if he was doing well enough or doing the right things.
Wilder told him what to do and he did it, and there was a simplicity in that Merrick didn’t even know he’d been missing.
He stripped out of his clothes and folded them, setting them on the edge of the dresser before climbing into bed and pulling the blanket up to his waist. He didn’t know if Wilder had a preferred side of the bed, though only one of the nightstands had things on it.
Merrick made the opposite side of the bed, the one with the empty nightstand, his.
Wilder returned and looked quickly from Merrick’s clothes on the dresser to Merrick himself in bed.
“Where’s your phone?” Wilder asked, holding up an extra charger.
“My jeans. Front right pocket.”
Wilder pulled Merrick’s phone out of his pants and padded around to Merrick’s side of the bed.
He reached around behind the nightstand and plugged the charger into the wall, then plugged Merrick’s phone into the charger.
He set it face down, then walked around to his side of the bed and joined Merrick under the covers.
Wilder turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the both of them into darkness.
Merrick blinked, waiting for his eyes to acclimate to the shadows. He rolled onto his side, and Wilder did the same. He couldn’t see much still but knew they were face to face. Slowly, Wilder’s features came into focus, the curve of his lips, the sharp angle of his nose.
“I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Wilder said, almost a whisper but still assertive. “Not going to fuck you in the morning either.”
Disappointment surged through Merrick’s whole body, and it must have been as visible as a searchlight on his face because Wilder tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, brushing his fingers across Merrick’s mouth until his frown relaxed.
“We had a big conversation and there’s a lot of information between us now. If you still feel sure about all of this in the morning as you do right now…if I still feel sure about all of this in the morning, we’ll go from there.”
Merrick hated how reasonable that sounded.
He’d come over to Wilder’s house thinking it was going to be an all-night fuck fest, and the reality couldn’t have been further from that.
Wilder wasn’t telling him no. He was telling him not now and there was a level-headed kind of reasoning in there that Merrick had to appreciate, even if he was horny to the point of distraction.
He shifted his weight, rubbing his thighs together before rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his forearm.
“Do you hate that?” Wilder asked, also turning onto his back.
“I’m so hard I can’t think straight,” Merrick admitted. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep.”
Wilder pushed down the sheets—and his pajamas—revealing the same problem.
“Please let me suck you,” Merrick whispered.
He could see it clear as day. He would notch himself between Wilder’s legs, suck that thick cock into his mouth, and he would suck until Wilder screamed out his name.
He would touch himself, tightening his hold on his own dick every time Wilder groaned or whimpered, and he could come all over his hand and then, and then the two of them would fall asleep.
“Not tonight.”
Wilder was steadfast and as much as Merrick hated that, he loved it a little too. It meant Wilder was a man of his word, a man he could…depend on…if he wanted to. Fuck, that was heavy.
“You’re hard too,” Merrick almost whined.
Wilder pulled his pajamas back into place and tugged the sheets up to the middle of both of their chests.
“I said not tonight, Merrick.”
Wilder’s tone was commanding—and final—and it did nothing to quell the rolling waves of arousal between Merrick’s legs.
He grunted his disagreement and rolled onto his stomach hoping the pressure on his cock would suffocate the erection out of him so he could sleep.
The slightest whimper fell out of his mouth, but he found a position that worked and finally he settled.
A few minutes later, Wilder’s fingertips danced across the top of his bare back, drawing shapes that Merrick struggled to identify until sleep took him under.
Wilder turned out to be a man of his word.
Merrick woke up at quarter to seven, sunlight pouring in through the window and casting a bright glow right across Merrick’s side of the bed.
He yawned and blinked hard, quickly quieting himself down so he didn’t wake Wilder prematurely.
He hadn’t woken Merrick up at all, not for sex or anything.
He’d apparently meant it when he said he’d intended them to both sleep on the conversation, and Merrick woke up just as dedicated to the idea of being with Wilder as he’d been when they went to bed in the first place.
With a sleepy sigh, he pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed.
Carefully, so as to not disturb Wilder’s last fifteen minutes of sleep.
He grabbed his boxer briefs from the pile of clothes on the nightstand and shuffled out of the bedroom.
The house was dark, but small, and Merrick could remember the floor plan enough to get around.
He went first into the living room, grabbing the water bottles and plate from the night before.
He brought it all into the kitchen and scraped the neglected charcuterie into the trash before setting the plate in the sink.
He brewed a pot of coffee, pulled down two clean mugs, then busied himself with washing up the plate from the night before and also the two mugs they’d used yesterday.
Merrick had just dried the dishes and found their place in the cupboards when Wilder appeared in the kitchen, still in his pajamas with his hair askew.
“Do you still want to suck me?” Wilder asked.
No hello, no good morning.
“Yes,” he said quickly because it was true. “Yes, Sir.”
Wilder’s nostrils flared and he pulled his pajamas down and tucked the waistband behind his balls. He stroked his cock with one hand and beckoned Merrick closer with the other. Merrick went to him, went to his knees, and sighed happily when Wilder fed his cock into his mouth.
“If you come on my floor, you’re cleaning it up,” Wilder murmured, taking Merrick’s head into his hands and thrusting forward. “Fuck, your mouth.”
Merrick shoved his hand into his underwear and touched himself. It wouldn’t take him long at all to come, considering how horny he’d been the night before, the day before, the night before that…
There was a newfound sort of peace there again, with Wilder.
He’d given Merrick an instruction and then a warning.
There was nothing else to do besides what Wilder told him.
His breathing slowed, his heartbeat steadied, and Wilder’s cock thumped against the roof of his mouth.
Wilder cradled Merrick’s jaw and tilted his face up, making him choke.
“Can I come here?”
Merrick nodded frantically, and five seconds later, a burst of hot and salty cum landed against the back of his tongue.
Another against the roof of his mouth and deeper still, right into his throat.
Wilder grunted through his orgasm, fucking Merrick’s mouth until his balls had emptied entirely.
Wilder’s cock still pulsed and burned in Merrick’s mouth, and Merrick moved his hand quickly, chasing after his own release.
It had been so close when he started, but his focus had shifted to Wilder’s pleasure, to his needs.
“Just like that, baby,” Wilder whispered, using his thumb to swipe tears away from Merrick’s lower lash line. “You’re such a good little cocksucker, aren’t you, baby? Made me coffee and then sucked my cock. You’re perfect, aren’t you?”
Wilder kept talking. He whispered a dozen different affirmations, each example sending a jolt of heat between Merrick’s legs that threatened his sanity. He was so close to coming, but Wilder’s words sent him higher than he’d ever been before. He worried he wouldn’t survive the come-down.
“Finish yourself off, baby. Come on. I know you can do it. I know.”
“It’s too much,” he said, words garbled around Wilder’s still hard dick in his mouth.
“I know,” Wilder agreed, keeping Merrick’s face angled so they could look at each other. “I want it anyway.”
He must have been a sight there, on his knees with his hand in his underwear, jaw stretched wide around a thick cock, lips and chin smeared with spit and cum.
And he came like that, with Wilder’s demands ringing in his ears.
He opened his mouth to cry out, and Wilder pushed his cock deeper into Merrick’s mouth.
Merrick’s eyes went wide and he choked, seeing stars around the corners of his vision, and he came, he came, he came.
All over his knuckles and his thigh and the inside of his boxer briefs.
Merrick struggled for breath, for sight, and he came harder than he could ever remember doing before.
When he was back to himself, his hand was still around his shaft, Wilder’s cock still in his mouth. He blinked himself aware, shoulders sagging with relief when Wilder smiled down at him.
“There’s my good boy,” Wilder whispered, easing himself out of Merrick’s mouth and tucking his dick behind the waistband of his pajamas. “My very best cocksucker.”
Merrick would have preened if he had the energy for it.
But all he could manage was a weak nod of agreement.
Wilder helped him to his feet and then crashed their mouths together.
He used the force of his kiss to walk them both back against the counter, the smell of coffee still warm and fresh in the air.
“You made me coffee again?” Wilder asked, breaking the kiss and using his tongue to drag the question up Merrick’s neck.
“And I did the dishes.”
Wilder made a very pleased sound that had Merrick’s cock twitching back to attention.
“Of course you did.” Wilder reached down and pulled Merrick’s hand out from his underwear and wiped it off on the outside of his pajamas.
His fingers were nowhere near clean, but when Wilder moved Merrick’s hand along his thigh and finally between his legs, Merrick decided cleanliness wasn’t the point.
Wilder was still hard, still hot to the touch.
“I’m going to have to spend all day with this,” he murmured into Merrick’s ear. “Spend all day wanting you.”
“I’m sorry,” he answered quickly, because it felt like the right thing to say.
“Never apologize for being exactly what I want.”
Merrick let out an embarrassing whimper, and Wilder let go of his hand, but Merrick didn’t pull away.
“I have to go get ready for work.” Wilder stepped back, tracing his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth. “What does your day look like?”
“Work from twelve to ten,” Merrick answered.
“And after that? Or before then?”
Merrick glanced down at his hand, half cleaned of his release, then he looked up at Wilder and answered, “I think at this point, that’s up to you.”