Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Fight back, damn you,” Conrad gasped.

  “Fuck. You’re hard work.”

  “Good.”

  Archer laughed. He’d managed to pin Conrad on his back on the bed and he rocked his hips as he nuzzled Conrad’s neck. “Ready to admit me you want me?”

  “Ready to admit you want me?”

  “Oh yeah, I fucking do. You do know the more you fight, the better I like it? The way you smell, taste, and feel when you’re aroused like this—it all turns me on. Fear, anger, lust. You’re fucking irresistible.”

  Conrad stared up at him, his blue eyes glinting with defiance. Archer grabbed his wrists and pressed them down as he pushed himself up to rock his pelvis against Conrad’s. Under the material of his pants, hard, slick, hot flesh ached to rub against its mate. Conrad moaned and bucked into him, and Archer sighed with satisfaction. But when Conrad kept doing it, Archer let his weight settle to keep him down.

  “Not that. Not this time,” he said. “I want to come inside you.”

  “Get the fuck off me.”

  “What are you so afraid of? Never been fucked before?”

  The Adam’s apple in Conrad’s throat rose and fell. “Not since I was fourteen.”

  Christ. “When did it start?”

  “When I was eleven.”

  Something else he and Conrad had in common. “Where?”

  “Boarding school. I was teacher’s pet for a couple of years.”

  Bile surged into Archer’s throat at the memory of the first time he’d been fucked.

  Conrad licked his lips. “It wasn’t all bad. Sometimes I liked it except that made it worse because I knew I wasn’t supposed to. All I had to do was tell the headmaster or my parents and that would have been it.”

  “The teacher would leave and everyone would find out why.”

  “That’s what I believed. You’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

  Archer nodded in acknowledgement of what he knew was a gift and he offered one of his own. “I was the same age the first time. Except it was all bad. I was no one’s pet, just passed around the care home workers and to guys outside the care home until I ran away. When I was twenty I was raped by three bastards who drugged me in a club and took me to a hotel. Four hours of abuse followed by a two-night stay in the hospital where I was treated like scum. That was the last time anyone had my arse.”

  “Did the police get the guys who did it?”

  “What do you think? Why would I want to have to tell person after person what they did?”

  “To stop them doing it to someone else?”

  Archer had dealt with them himself, picked them off one by one and taken his revenge.

  “Maybe this is a bad idea,” Conrad mumbled.

  “No, it’s not. I want you. You want me. You just haven’t quite got your head around it. I’ll take care. I won’t ram into you, not unless you ask me nicely.”

  Conrad glared. “Fuck you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Conrad wrenched his arms free and tried to get out from under Archer. Not going to happen. They fumbled with each other’s clothing, buttons and zippers sliding and slipping through fingers. He became aware Conrad wasn’t trying to stop him. He was fighting to get Archer’s cock in his hand. An inferno of lust raged in Archer’s head.

  Their upper bodies finally bare, part-unzipped pants riding low on their hips, Archer had moved Conrad off the bed to press him against the wall. One of Conrad’s hands was buried in Archer’s hair while the other explored his chest, squeezing and stroking, fingers twisting his nipples harder and harder until the breath caught in his throat. Conrad raked them with his nails, and Archer gave a long moan. Flames raced through his body and gathered in his groin. His cock strained in the confines of his pants. Foreheads resting together, they breathed as hot and hard as dragons, hands roaming the other’s skin, touching, kneading, caressing. Rough, gentle, everything worked to make him more and more thirsty. The only drink he wanted was right in front of him.

  Archer dropped his head to Conrad’s shoulder, bit down and felt Conrad buckle.

  “Oh God,” Conrad gasped.

  Archer gripped the back of Conrad’s neck, squeezed and at the same time shoved his knee between Conrad’s legs, pushing his thigh against Conrad’s cock and to his relief, Conrad rubbed against him instead of pushing him off.

  “No,” Conrad blurted.

  Body saying one thing, mouth another. Archer forced his hand between their bodies to work at Conrad’s zipper. When he slid his fingers over Conrad’s rigid cock, gripping it through the material of his shorts, Conrad shuddered so hard the vibration ran to Archer’s toes and made them curl.

  “This doesn’t say no,” Archer said. “You’re hard as steel.”

  “All the better for fucking you. Why don’t you bend over, put your hands on the table and think of England.”

  Archer chuckled. He slid his fingers through the gap in Conrad’s shorts and with one finger stroked the length of his dick and up over the sensitive head. Conrad arched into him with a long wail.

  “Steady, tiger,” Archer whispered.

  “Fuck, I wish that had been a roar. Sounded like a mouse.”

  Archer squeezed and pumped Conrad’s dick and dropped his mouth to the place he’d bitten before. He knew from the sounds and movements Conrad made that his resistance was weakening. Every hard graze with his teeth resonated in Archer’s cock but even as Conrad began to jerk harder into Archer’s fist, his hips shifting into a rhythmic grind, the guy dragged himself from the brink.

  Conrad fell back as Archer let him go. He flailed in a flare of panic but landed on the bed as Archer intended. Archer stared at him as he stripped, watching Conrad’s chest heave as he struggled to regulate his breathing. Archer pulled down his pants and shorts at the same time and stepped out of them to stand naked in front of Conrad.

  “How come you look bigger now?” Conrad asked.

  Archer couldn’t help smiling. He bent and pulled off Conrad’s socks, then tugged down his pants and shorts. Conrad’s cock looked bigger too but it wasn’t coming anywhere near his arse, so that was fine. He looked like a big cat stretched out on the bed, all long limbs, not an ounce of fat on him. Not as well muscled as Archer but still a body that made his mouth water. Archer reached into his bag, tossed condoms and lube on the bed and saw the flare of concern burst in Conrad’s eyes followed by a backward shuffle over the bed. Archer crawled after him, knees planted between Conrad’s legs, all the time staring in his face as he lowered his weight onto Conrad’s body. If he didn’t want this, why was he widening his legs and wrapping them around Archer’s thighs?

  The compliance didn’t last long.

  “Off.” Conrad tried to throw him off and failed. Archer grabbed his wrists, pinned them at the sides of Conrad’s head and bent to lick along his reddened collarbone. Conrad melted until he felt Archer’s cock slide between his thighs and rub his balls. The guy went from putty to iron, clenched his fingers into fists and struggled to squirm free.

  “Get the fuck off,” Conrad snapped.

  Their bellies were soaked with pre-come. The scent of musk and sweat and Conrad swirled in his head. If the guy panted any more heavily, he’d hyperventilate. Archer rocked against him and Conrad let out a long groan.

  “Don’t.” Conrad closed his eyes and sighed.

  Archer licked up his neck, danced his lips over Conrad’s face, across his eyelids, and down his cheeks to brush his lips. “Fight me,” he whispered. “Please.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can.”

  “Christ.”

  “Please,” Archer repeated.

  “I don’t want to give in.”

  “Then don’t, but giving in doesn’t make you weak. The power is yours. You’re the one making me feel this way, makin
g the breath catch in my throat, making my balls ache. Can’t you see the desperation in my face?”

  Conrad gave a little smile and opened his eyes again. “Hey, I’m the one who uses words to get what I want.”

  “Maybe. But one of us has to give way first. Fight me.”

  Conrad had to fight. Archer had understood before Conrad. It was the only way Conrad could do this. He had to fight and Archer had to break him. Conrad used every ounce of his strength to lift his arms, then twisted free of Archer’s grip, rotating his body to slip free.

  Archer gave a roar of delight and they began struggling together, tussling, hands and legs entwined, bodies together then apart, grinding hips, sweat-slick skin sticking together, cries and groans filling the room, wrestling until Archer knew Conrad had to hurt, until he thought the guy had to give in but he didn’t. Each time Archer almost pinned him, Conrad found a way to get free—a bite, an unexpected kiss, a lick. Conrad was ticklish and he took advantage of that until finally he was where Archer wanted him, face down, Archer on top, arm on his neck, his hard, slick cock resting in the crease of Conrad’s butt.

  “I’m going to pass out from exhaustion in a minute.” Conrad panted into the pillow.

  “I’ll try not to wake you when I come in your arse.”

  Unseen, Conrad smiled. But when a draft of cold air swept over his backside as Archer pushed himself up and off, his smile died. Anger blossomed inside him, awareness that the aches and pain in his body had subsided under the weight of desire and fury. The emotions battled side by side, neither ceding and until one had, he was doomed. But Conrad knew he was sliding fast, no way of stopping his descent into submission. He wanted Archer’s cock in his arse, didn’t want it anywhere near his arse. Oh Christ. He despised himself for even considering it.

  I want him to fuck me.

  The thought flashed through him like a shockwave. Caught fast in the tangled net of lust, he’d fought even though he knew the outcome, wanted this outcome. He ached with pain from his injury, from the confusion in his head and the raging need in his belly. Am I going to do this? He didn’t have to do anything but lie there. More than twenty years since he’d had anything more than a finger up his arse. What if—?

  He let out a deep groan as Archer trickled lube from the base of his spine down the seam of his butt until it dripped onto his balls. He clenched his butt cheeks.

  “The. Most. Beautiful. Backside,” Archer whispered.

  “It’s won prizes.”

  He heard a muffled laugh. Oh Christ, that wasn’t even funny. Panic twisted his stomach. He sucked in a breath when Archer’s finger followed the same path as the lube. When it touched the ring of his anus, he clenched every muscle in his body. He wanted Archer’s teeth back in his shoulder. Wouldn’t ask. And then Archer leaned over his back and did just that and Conrad wondered if he’d spoken out loud.

  The bite worked. His shoulders tensed and every other muscle relaxed. His reason was dissolving. All he could feel was sensation racing from the point Archer’s teeth slid along bone until he was sure he must have drawn blood, stupidly wanted him to draw blood. Conrad couldn’t pull sense back into his head. He’s going to fuck me. Is that really what I want?

  “No,” he whispered. But the word sounded weak, sounded like yes.

  “I wanted to rim you but I’d have come before I got inside you.” Archer gave a quiet chuckle.

  His finger pressed and teased the muscles of Conrad’s hole and Conrad’s breathing turned erratic. His body tensed again, vibrating with tension. If Archer told him to relax, he’d hit him. If Archer told him to beg for it, he’d hit him. A finger slipped inside and goose bumps erupted over Conrad’s body. Wanted, didn’t want, didn’t know what he wanted. Then the finger slid deeper and he couldn’t think at all.

  Archer thrust in and out and Conrad gulped air that barely made it into his throat before he gasped it out again. With a curl of his finger, Archer nailed his prostate and Conrad found his knees shifting until he’d raised himself up and could rock his backside into Archer’s hand. How the fuck did I manage that? He was angry at himself, and eager and needy all at the same time. One finger turned to two, and it hurt, then the burn of stretched muscles faded, and Conrad gave a deep sigh, lost in sensation, adrift in pleasure.

  The sound of a foil packet being ripped brought reality back in a jarring snap. As he began to pull away, Archer wrapped a hand around his hip.

  “I don’t—”

  “Yeah, you do.” Archer reached under Conrad’s belly and wrapped his fingers around his cock.

  “Fuck,” Conrad muttered. Stop being a wuss. I can fuck him after. Just let him do it.

  But when he felt the head of Archer’s cock sliding in the crease of his butt, panic tightened its grip on his heart and lungs. The muscles of his anus spasmed when Archer’s cock settled there, but the rhythmic touch and pull back, the harder push before retreat lulled him toward acceptance. It felt good, more than good.

  It was Archer who cried out, the noise seemingly torn from his chest and it was that sound of pleasure, the knowledge that he’d caused it that enabled Conrad to bear down and let him in. Archer drove long and hard and deep, forcing him down flat on the bed and Conrad buried his face in the pillow and clenched his fists. Jesus Christ. What have I done? But the world didn’t erupt in a ball of fire and his arse didn’t explode. It felt…sort of weird but good.

  “Oh fuck,” Archer gasped. “You’re so fucking tight. Jesus. I need to move. You okay? Tell me you’re fucking okay.”

  “I’m fucking okay. Do it.” Conrad groaned.

  Hips pressed against Conrad’s arse, Archer pulled back and fucked the remaining air from Conrad’s lungs, fucked the fear from his body, pounding in and out until only desire and pleasure were left. And inside Conrad’s head, a reassuring voice told him he hadn’t lost the battle. He’d won. He might have given up his arse but Archer’s desperation thrilled him and although Conrad didn’t want to admit it, this felt right being taken like this, filled like this. Even better, every thrust rubbed Conrad’s cock against the rumpled sheets, which would be enough to bring him off.

  But Archer pulled him up, supported his weight, hands gripping Conrad’s hips as he pulled out and drove back time after time. Conrad fleetingly wished he’d let Malachi try it, wondered if it would have made him stay before Archer drove all thought out of his head except the need to come.

  “You…” Archer panted. “The moment I saw you. On the beach. Even half-dead. Wanted you. I saw you in bed. Deefor licking you. I wanted to lick you. Christ, you feel so good.”

  Archer had seen him that morning before Conrad had found him on the doorstep? The thought dissolved under the hard and relentless rhythm with which Archer pounded into him. Conrad loved it, hated it, needed it. All that mattered was that orgasm had begun to gallop through him, exciting every part of his body, but leaving the best place, the finishing tape place until last. I need your hand on my cock.

  As though he’d read Conrad’s mind again, Archer’s hand slipped to Conrad’s dick, pumped it at the same pace as he drove into his arse and Conrad came, his balls exploding, come flying from him in almost painful, yet deeply satisfying spurts. As Archer moved his hand back to Conrad’s hip, Conrad heard the change in his breathing and felt him stiffen against him as he came.

  Impossible not to collapse. Conrad sank down with Archer on top, still inside him, still gently thrusting, the pair of them enveloped in the scent of sex and sweat and hot male flesh.

  Finally, Archer stilled.

  “Christ Almighty,” Archer whispered.

  Words were beyond Conrad.

  When Archer finally slipped out of him, Conrad missed the sensation, missed the warmth. His butt hurt yet wasn’t painful. Even his back was okay. Archer rubbed his stubble on Conrad’s shoulder and nipped his neck. Conrad just held back his whimper. Don’t say anythi
ng. His mental plea was directed at Archer because he didn’t need to be told that he had wanted this, that he was Archer’s now, his bottom, his fuck because it wasn’t true. Irritation surged in Conrad’s chest and Archer wrapped a leg over his thigh and pulled him close.

  “Stop it,” Archer whispered.

  “Stop what?”

  “You know.” Archer nuzzled his mouth closer to Conrad’s ear. “Thinking. It’s overrated.”

  “Even if I was thinking that wasn’t too bad?” Conrad asked.

  Archer laughed. “Wasn’t too bad? You fucker! That was the best you’ve ever had.”

  Conrad’s lips curled in a grin. “Since I was fourteen.”

  “That was the best I’ve ever had.” Archer’s words were quiet and clear.

  Conrad’s flush of pleasure faded. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest.” Archer gave a short chuckle as he flopped onto his back. “Christ, I’m exhausted.”

  “I was exhausted before we started.”

  “Need a hand to the bathroom?”

  “No.”

  But Conrad had to take it steady. His legs weren’t cooperating. By the time he made it back to bed, Archer was under the covers.

  “I’ve never spent a night with a guy before,” Archer said.

  Conrad’s eyes widened. “And I spent seven years’ worth of nights with the same one.”

  “You’ll be used to the wet spot then.”

  “Fuck off. I made Malachi sleep on that.” Conrad climbed into bed and realized Archer lay where he’d just spurted over the sheets and he smiled.

  “Did you really collapse on my doorstep?” Conrad asked.

  “No. I looked through the window. Saw you laughing with Deefor and wanted you to laugh with me.” Archer blinked. “If you knew how hard it was for me to admit that.”

  “That you’re a peeping Tom?”

  “Yeah.”