by Cole McCade
Rian let out a startled, entirely cute sound as Damon slid down his body; fuck, if they weren’t in a goddamned car out in public he’d rip that flimsy outfit right off Rian, but he satisfied himself with pushing his wrap open and dragging his camisole up over his stomach so Damon could press his mouth over the smooth, slightly curved expanse. He kissed and nipped and bit above and below and around Rian’s navel—and held his hips firmly still even as Rian squirmed and whimpered with every sucking bite, every faint pink mark Damon left on his skin, always working lower and lower toward the waist of his jeans and ever aware of the hardness straining against the denim only inches away from his mouth.
His watering, hungry mouth, and fuck, he couldn’t wait any longer to taste Rian, couldn’t hold back, and he caught Rian’s zipper and dragged it down, thumbing the button of his jeans open. Underneath Rian had on another pair of those damned skimpy briefs, cut to flatter his narrow hips and dipping low below the lines of sleek sinew arrowing down to his pelvis, dark lavender because of course Rian Falwell matched his briefs to his fucking wraps; of course. But while Damon took in how hard Rian was, straining against his briefs, a wet spot spreading against the fabric and marking where the head of his cock twitched and pulsed and swelled against the material...
“S-stop,” Rian whispered, and Damon tensed, ready to pull away, to ask Are you all right? until Rian turned his face to the side, hiding his mouth against his upthrust shoulder. “Stop...stop staring at me...”
“Can’t help it,” Damon rumbled, that grin creeping back. “You’re damned good to look at...but I want more than just looking. Can I taste you, Ri?”
Rian swallowed—then closed his eyes, lashes black wispy fans above his reddened cheeks.
And he nodded, a single gesture that gave Damon free rein to just...
Touch.
With a hungry growl, he caught the waist of Rian’s briefs in his teeth, dragging them down, flicking his tongue out to taste the salty wetness soaked into the cloth before he let them go to snap against Rian’s hips and upper thighs, leaving the swollen, hardened pinkness of his cock bare, glistening with dripping runnels of pre-come. Damon ran his fingertips lightly along Rian’s full length, just to watch his cock buck; just to watch how Rian jolted, tossing his head back with a low cry, arms coming up to clench his fists to either side of his shoulders and his lips parted and so very, very flushed.
Yeah.
Goddamned beautiful.
And Damon didn’t want to stop until he had his fill.
He licked his wet-gleaming fingertips, stealing another taste of Rian, bittersweet and warm—before he stopped whetting his appetite and gave in to his hunger, dipping down to close his lips over the head of Rian’s cock.
That thrumming, soft voice filled the back of the Jeep, echoing off the walls as Damon teased at Rian’s cock-head, taking it no deeper and only focusing his attention on the flared fullness of it, the dripping tip, the warmth of it resting on his tongue and pressing against the sides of his cheeks as he worked over its shape, teased his tongue under the lip of it, suckled at it lightly just to feel another flood of salty clear fluid spilling over his tongue in little sharp bursts.
While Rian writhed.
Moaning helplessly, legs jerking against the briefs and jeans trapping his thighs, Rian moved in wild and restless ways underneath Damon, his spine sinuous and twisting, his fingers grasping at Damon’s shoulders, digging in and dragging, pulling up handfuls of his shirt only to relax and go loose as if he’d lost all strength the second Damon found a sensitive spot that made his voice rise higher and higher, again and again. Every lick seemed to make Rian more tense underneath him, every suckling motion making his tremors deeper, every stroke of Damon’s lips turning Rian’s voice huskier, hotter—until it broke as Damon probed his tongue into the slit at the tip, searching for that salty flavor at the source.
“N-no—no!” Rian cried, jerking harshly, digging his fingers into Damon’s hair. “Damon—Damon!”
Damon drew back slowly, carefully, taking in several breaths, his chest hurting and binding up with it as he looked up at Rian from below. “Don’t like that?”
“I... I...” Rian licked his lips, opening his eyes, their hazel depths glazed, darkened and smoldering. “I...like it too much, I don’t...you’re...you’re doing all the work, and I just...”
“You ain’t some pillow princess, Ri.” Damon grinned, rubbing his cheek against Rian’s cock and watching how Rian shuddered convulsively, his lips going slack, his eyes hazing over. “You’re indulging me, is all. ’cause God damn do I love watching you move.”
And he proved his point by dragging his tongue over Rian’s cock from base to tip, tasting every inch of him, and relishing the sensation of Rian’s fingers tightening in his hair, digging in deep while those needy, molten cries rang around him like the most enticing fucking music he’d ever heard.
He stopped as he traced his tongue-tip over Rian’s cock-head again, then whispered, “You want me to find another way to make you scream? ’cause when it’s you and me together...it ain’t just me doing the work, babe.”
Rian made a keening, almost mortified sound, his chest heaving—but as he pressed the backs of his knuckles to his mouth, he nodded, exhaling slowly.
“Please,” he breathed.
“Thought I’d have to try harder to make you beg,” Damon growled, pushing himself up to slide up Rian’s body—and stole Rian’s shocked, offended indrawn breath in a kiss. One that Rian fought him on briefly, not pushing him away but biting him, lashing at him, making him work for it, and Damon was only too glad to bite back, tangle their tongues, crush their mouths together until Rian went soft underneath him again, submitting and surrendering with his fingers lacing against the back of Damon’s neck and his tongue gliding in erotic strokes along the length of Damon’s.
It didn’t stop, kiss turning deep and slow and needy as Damon worked his hand between them to snag Rian’s clothing, dragging his jeans and briefs the rest of the way down, Rian’s legs kicking to fling them and his sandals away until he was naked from the waist down and clinging to Damon as if Damon was his only shield for decency.
As if Damon didn’t intend to do entirely indecent things to him.
And he was reluctant to part their lips, reluctant to pull away from all that heated, smooth bare skin...but he had no choice, as he leaned away from Rian to reach between the front seats, feeling about until he snagged on the catch of the glove box and flipped it open. He stretched to reach inside, until his fingers slipped against the smooth glass sides of a bottle; he caught it in his fingertips, pulling back to relax atop Rian again, propping himself up on one arm while he squinted at the print on the back.
Only to find Rian looking up at him flatly, his eyes narrowed.
Damon stopped, blinking. “What?”
“...why do you keep lube in your glove compartment?”
“We can answer that or we can fuck.” Damon arched a brow, smirking. “Not both.”
Rian sniffed. “Seems cruel to make it a choice.”
Damon tilted his head—while Rian turned his face away, lips pouting. Damon blinked.
Oh.
He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smile. “My last boyfriend left it there and he never took it out, Ri,” he murmured. “I checked the expiration date. It’s fine.”
But that only made Rian’s lips thin, cheeks flushing. “So you and your last boyfriend made a habit of having sex in this car?”
“Me and my last boyfriend never made it past first base, but guess he was an optimist.” Damon leaned down and nuzzled at Rian’s cheek, coaxing, brushing his lips against Rian’s jaw. “You jealous?”
Rian made a sulky noise—but after a few moments his arms slipped around Damon’s shoulders again, his fingers playing in light patterns between his shoulder blades. “I don’t own you,” he said sof
tly. “Even if I did, it’s terribly ridiculous of me to care about your past sexual escapades, isn’t it?” His voice trailed off, halting, hitching, before he turned his head enough that his lips moved against the corner of Damon’s mouth. “You’re here now.”
“I am,” Damon said, catching Rian’s mouth in a slow, sighing kiss before pulling back. “And I’m having some weird goddamned feelings about you getting huffy over me like that.”
Rian looked up at him uncertainly, eyes glimmering; he said nothing, but those delicate fingertips touched Damon’s lips...then drew him down, pulling him into another kiss. Damon had never thought the two of them, as wild as they were, could kiss this sweet, this lazy and tender and warm...but he sank into it, taking his time, letting it fill him up to answer this goddamned craving inside him that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with Rian. But he couldn’t resist touching Rian, either, stroking over his body, teasing his thighs apart, drinking in his sighs and the tiny sounds of pleasure that told Damon when he found all those sweet spots that stoked the desire between them deeper and deeper, one breath at a time; one moment at a time.
And when he coated his fingers from the slick little bottle of lube, when he slid them between the cleft of Rian’s ass and stroked that smooth oil into his skin...
He tasted every last one of Rian’s moans, his whimpers, his needy little cries as Damon teased him, stretched him, worked his fingers inside to fill him. He hardly felt the heavy, aching, insistent throb of his own cock, ignoring it for the pleasure of making Rian twist and whine and beg in wordless whispers; for the entirely captivating immersion of sinking into Rian’s gasping, kiss-swollen lips to taste him as deep as Damon touched him, stroking delicately both above and below until Rian was a trembling mess underneath him, his cock pulsing against Damon’s belly and wetting his skin through his shirt, his fingers digging hard into Damon’s upper arms every time Damon searched for just...a little...more.
Groaning, barely holding himself in check, Damon nibbled at Rian’s lower lip. “You like that, sweetheart?” he whispered. “You want me?”
“Yes,” Rian sighed, so liquid and lax underneath him. “Damon, please...”
“Careful,” Damon warned, going still as longing rocked through him in a demanding surge. “You’re gonna make me lose it, you say my name like that.”
As if he had any restraint. As if he had any goddamned sense where Rian was concerned, and Damon only parted them long enough to slip his fingers from inside Rian, rip his own shirt off just because he fucking needed those soft hands against his skin, and then drag his jeans open and down around his hips. His cock fucking hurt, pulsing furiously after being confined while he grew harder and harder, hungrier and hungrier...but there was no holding himself back now. He poured a fresh pool of glistening, dripping lubricant into his palm and closed his eyes, curling forward with a ragged groan as he stroked the silky texture over his entire length, desire scraping ragged teeth down his spine and nearly chewing him to fucking pieces. He closed his eyes for a heated moment.
Then opened them on the sight of Rian stretched out beneath him, waiting, watching him with an answering hunger in those tawny eyes.
“Fuck,” Damon breathed.
And let the magnetism between them crash them together.
He nearly fell against Rian, gathering that slender frame up against him, kissing him ravenously, deeply, clutching at him as firmly as Rian clutched right back, those slim thighs parting for him and the inside of one stroking against his waist coaxingly as Rian opened himself, spread himself, gave himself up to Damon so wholeheartedly that when Damon’s cock-head pressed against Rian’s ass, it felt almost too easy to slip into him. As if those soft, tight inner walls had been made to take him; as if Rian’s body opened up to draw him in deep, plunging into molten, rippling pressure and pleasure made up of gliding-wet sensations and gripping convulsions and the feeling of flesh to stroking, needy flesh until he sank in to the root and Rian enveloped him fully.
Fuck, yes. This—this was something more, God, it was too fucking much, but Damon couldn’t get enough. He moved inside Rian, and felt it in his entire body; in the tension and fire raking burning claws over him, in the way Rian arched and clutched at him, in the way their lips came together as if they could devour each other and somehow meld into one. Damon barely had room to move in the close confines of the cargo area, but it didn’t matter when they flowed together, their bodies caught in this push and pull that stoked him hotter and hotter until he didn’t realize he was whispering Rian’s name again and again until it was all he could taste, branded on the tip of his tongue.
Too much, not enough, everything, and for a moment he thought...
This is what I want.
This is what I need.
To feel like I’m part of something that’s mine and only mine...
...except it belongs to both of us.
So hot. So sweet. So perfect, this thing of fluid motion and bursting rushes of pleasure that came in startling surges that took his breath away, catching him off guard with the overwhelming crush of it before it took him again and again in every sensation of Rian—of the loose lush invitation of his lips, the sound of his purring voice, the flex and pull of his body underneath Damon’s, the pressure of his fingertips in Damon’s back. The clutch of his thighs against Damon’s hips. The tight clench of his inner depths, convulsing and contracting and holding him fast in a deadlocked grasp of pleasure. The pulse of his cock against Damon’s palm, as he took Rian and stroked him over and over.
Everything Rian.
Everything them.
Everything they became together as they crashed and surged, trembled and rolled, thrust and clung and kissed and gasped until they made a tandem rhythm of whispered names and begging cries. He didn’t even know which one of them broke first, or if it mattered, or if he could tell one from the other.
He only knew that one moment he was licking his name from Rian’s lips.
The next he was falling, tumbling, in free-fall, out of control.
And even as his fingers turned wet and Rian’s nails ravaged his back in acid lines, he bucked and his entire body whiplash-cracked with the force of the feeling pouring out of him. A feeling no one else had ever pushed to such wild, consuming depths; a feeling that had never overcome him with such intensity that he lost himself this way. A feeling he didn’t want to let go of, as he buried his face in Rian’s throat and kissed over his pulse and bit him, tasted him, marked him as mine.
I want you as mine, he thought, as his spine locked and his hips shuddered and he buried himself deeper in Rian and emptied himself, poured out his flesh and life and need in taut-quivering snaps of breaking tension. I want you as mine...and I don’t want to let you go.
* * *
Oh, God.
They’d done it again.
Rian lay under Damon, his fingers still tangled in Damon’s hair and curled against the back of his neck, the sheen of sweat between them glossing his skin and his entire body throbbing in rhythm with his pulse and the tired, sweet pain seated deep as a heart inside him; he stared up at the roof of the Jeep, struggling to catch his breath.
Oh, damn it.
Why did he keep doing this?
Why did he keep falling into Damon like this, when just tumbling into sex wasn’t going to fix any of the tangled mess between them, and it was just making a bigger disaster when they did?
I can’t.
I can’t be falling for him, this...this makes my heart hurt, I... I can’t be, but...
...I think I already have.
And I don’t know what to do about it.
When every time we start to maybe sort through all of this...we just...have sex and screw it all up again like sex is supposed to smooth everything away.
He realized, then, that Damon was oddly still against him, his face buried in Rian’s t
hroat, warm breaths against his skin, tickling at his neck. It wasn’t just lazy quiet, lax relaxation; Damon wasn’t quite stiff, but Rian could feel that he was holding himself very carefully in place, and he thought maybe...
Damon wasn’t okay, either.
No matter how good it felt...they had to stop doing this. Not like this, at least.
Rian bit his sore, tender lower lip, untangling his fingers from Damon’s hair to touch his shoulder, tracing down to his bicep. “Hey,” he murmured tentatively. “Are you all right?”
“...not sure yet,” Damon grumbled into his neck. “Hard to think straight with my dick in you. Hold still, I’m gonna try not to make this hurt.”
Trying didn’t mean Rian didn’t suck in a sharp, harsh breath and tense as Damon braced his hands to either side of Rian’s body and lifted his hips, arching his back as he drew back—and his softening cock dragged thickly inside Rian, pulling against sore flesh and leaving him gasping as Damon parted their bodies and left him with only emptiness and lingering after-echoes of not entirely unpleasant pain. Whimpering, he curled on his side inside the cage of Damon’s arms, closing his eyes and struggling to make his body just calm down.
“Shh,” Damon soothed, brushing Rian’s hair back from his cheeks and leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Take your time. Breathe. You gonna be okay?”
“Y-yes.” Inhale; exhale; inhale; exhale; it was less the pain and more Damon’s tender, gentle touches that made Rian feel like he was going to hyperventilate. “I’m just...mmn. I’m not...used to doing that regularly anymore.”
“No?” Damon’s voice sounded strange—and Rian opened his eyes to find the look in Damon’s eyes just as odd, studying Rian with that unreadable regard. “Guess two times is enough to border on a habit, huh.”
Rian winced, shifting onto his back again, reaching up to rest his hand to Damon’s chest. “I suppose we...are still in the middle of some rather fraught emotions, and—”
He let out a startled sound as Damon caught his hand, stopping it short of touching Damon, gripping hard. “Don’t,” Damon bit off, brows lowering. “Don’t you fucking do that again.”
