by Avon Gale
“Down the hall. Here’s yours.” I steered him toward the couch. He collapsed on it, and I grabbed the Blues blanket off the back and draped it over him. I thought about getting him a pillow, but he clearly didn’t need one because he was already asleep.
I stood there and looked down at him for a moment, thinking about myself when I was young and stupid. Maybe I should have been angry at him for going out drinking and getting so wasted, since we’d had a talk about why that wasn’t acceptable today. But he’d called me, knowing that I’d be annoyed, and trusted that I’d come get him.
Maybe you’d be good for him, Callum’s voice echoed.
I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water—plastic since my floors were hardwood and I couldn’t be sure of his dexterity—and carried it back to the living room. I put it on the table next to the couch, then retrieved the trash can from the half bath in the hall, lined it with two plastic bags, and set it next to Poe on the floor.
Then I took off Poe’s boots and ran my hand through the mess of his hair, before turning off the light and heading to my room.
Poe
I woke feeling like my head was an overinflated balloon right on the verge of popping. A swipe of my tongue found fuzzy teeth in desperate need of a brushing, and the taste lingering in my mouth reminded me of the way skunks smelled. I had to fight back a gag when I noticed it. Ugh. Disgusting.
As I blinked blearily at the white ceiling above me, it took me a minute to remember where the hell I’d crashed for the night. The hockey blanket tangled in my legs was the first clue. Then the rest of the night came back to me in fragments. The fight with Blue, the call to Jericho.
Shit. I’d really drunk-dialed him like an asshole. What had I even been thinking?
Well, I hadn’t been. Clearly.
I hoped I hadn’t said anything stupid. Or pathetic.
Groaning, I tossed the blanket aside and hefted myself to my feet—only to immediately trip over a garbage can next to the couch. It rolled away noisily while I flailed out a hand to grab on to the closest armrest, just barely stopping myself from face-planting onto the hardwood floor. I ended up slamming to my knees—which, ow—with my head spinning and my stomach threatening a mutiny. “Shit. Oh fuck.”
Thankfully, the words came out not much louder than a croak. I swallowed back the urge to puke, got myself upright again, and scrubbed my hands over my hair, catching a whiff of my BO in the process.
My nose wrinkled. Jesus. I smelled like I’d spent the night rolling around in stale beer and cheap weed, not to mention my pits being ripe with old sweat. Fucking charming. No wonder Jericho had dumped me on his couch.
I explored the house in search of a place to clean up. It was a ranch with everything on one level, and not very big. Aside from the living room where I’d spent the night, there was a small eat-in kitchen, a half bath in the hall, an office/workout space, and finally, Jericho’s bedroom. The door was ajar, the room draped in shadows. I could make out Jericho’s form buried under a pile of blankets as I crept over the threshold. He didn’t stir as the hinges creaked.
The temptation to crawl into bed with him was strong. Then I remembered my currently disgusting state, and instead, I darted into the attached bathroom, locking myself inside. Jericho would have to forgive me for using his shower without permission. I wasn’t about to get near him smelling the way I did.
I found an unopened toothbrush in the top drawer of the vanity and dedicated a good five minutes to brushing my teeth and gargling with mouthwash. After which I already felt loads better.
I started the water in the tub running while I shucked off my clothes. I didn’t linger over getting clean, just grabbed the all-in-one bodywash/shampoo sitting on the shelf and quickly scrubbed myself down.
Drying myself was a cursory process, but when I went to get dressed, my lip curled in distaste at the idea of pulling those dirty clothes over my freshly washed skin. I settled for cinching the towel around my waist and opened the door, peering into the bedroom.
Jericho still hadn’t stirred, which meant he must be a pretty heavy sleeper—his shower didn’t run quietly.
I crossed to the bed and settled onto the edge, ignoring the cold water that still dripped from my hair onto my shoulders. Jericho’s head was the only thing visible over the mountain of blankets. Sleep took years off his appearance, relaxation smoothing out the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from touching him—stroking his beard, tracing the straight line of his nose, the arch of a dark brow.
When I rubbed my thumb across his full lower lip, he finally woke, huffing a low breath. His hazel eyes blinked open.
Jericho stared up at me, disoriented from sleep, his features twisted into a puzzled expression. I knew the very instant recognition struck, because he jerked away and sat up quickly, the blankets pooling in his lap.
“Poe. What are you doing in here?”
I leaned back, putting a few inches between us. “Sorry. I had to take a shower. I smelled fucking rank.” I shoved my hand under my thigh to stop myself from groping him as he sat there all shirtless and sexy, his powerful chest tempting me to reach out and touch. “Um. Do you have some clothes I can borrow?”
“Oh.” Jericho rubbed a hand over his disarrayed salt-and-pepper hair, his biceps flexing with the movement. It fucking killed me how he could look so gorgeous sitting there with bedhead and sheet marks on his face. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll find you something.” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was ten after eight o’clock, hours before either of us had to be anywhere. “Give me a sec. I’ll get ready to take you home.”
He left the bed before I could protest, and disappeared into the bathroom. Less than five minutes later, he reappeared, still wearing loose sweat pants, his beard and hairline damp from washing his face.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you want to make a pot while I get dressed,” he said. “Let me grab you some clothes.” He started for the dresser, but I caught his arm as he went to walk past me.
“Can we talk for a minute first?” I asked.
Jericho looked like he’d refuse, but after a moment, he sighed and nodded tersely. I tugged his arm until he sat on the bed next to me and turned to face him, one knee bent so my foot was tucked under me, the other braced on the floor. The edges of the towel I wore gaped wide in that position. Jericho’s eyes shot to my crotch before he noticeably averted his gaze.
“I wanted to apologize,” I said, which brought his attention back to my face. “Not only for calling you last night and whatever else I might have done while drunk off my ass, but also for how I’ve been acting at the shop. I know I’ve been an asshole lately. I didn’t get why you were fighting this—” I gestured between us “—so hard. And I don’t agree with your reasons, but I know I should’ve, like, respected your boundaries regardless. I’ve been feeling pretty salty, and yeah, maybe a little hurt, about getting rejected, but that’s on me, not you.” I lifted my chin in determination. “I promise I’ll be better about it from now on. I’ll be there on time, and I’ll stop fucking around, and I won’t talk about that other stuff anymore, okay? I swear, I’ll—”
Jericho’s mouth stopped my rambling. He kissed me hard, his tongue insistent and tasting of minty toothpaste.
When he pulled back, I stared at him in confusion. “Wha—”
“You drive me fucking crazy.” He rubbed a calloused thumb across one of my cheekbones. “First you behave like a brat and piss me off. Then you turn the tables and act all respectful, and it gets me so— Damn.” Jericho closed his eyes for a second. “It makes me want to pound you through the mattress.”
I blinked at him. “I wasn’t trying to— I mean, not that I don’t want— But I was only trying to—”
“I know.” Jericho cupped the side of my neck in his large palm and searched my face, his expression rueful. “I don’t mean to send mixed signals. I’ve been fighting this so hard because I feel like there should be bound
aries between us, because I don’t want you to feel like I’m using my position to take advantage. I’m trying to keep things professional, but really, I know I’m fucking fighting a losing battle. I want you. You know I do. But I also don’t want to be the reason your apprenticeship goes south. I don’t want you to quit if things go badly between us. I didn’t want to take that risk when you’ve been doing so well, but . . .”
Jericho’s fingers tightened on my neck. He drew me forward and kissed me again, tonguing the ring that pierced my lower lip, then catching it between his teeth and tugging until I moaned. When he broke away, he kept our foreheads together, panting hard against my mouth. “I think I might be good for you. I think we might be good for each other,” he said, voice low. “I might’ve been able to ignore it if you’d come sneaking in here this morning hell-bent on getting me to fuck you. That would’ve pissed me off. Instead, you . . . Fuck.”
Jericho groaned and pressed demanding lips to mine. One second we were side by side, and the next he’d yanked the towel off me and pushed me back onto the bedding. His hips settled between my spread thighs, and as he leaned over me, I could feel the thick ridge of his erection, warm and pulsing through the soft material of his sweatpants.
“Yeah. Oh yeah.” I arched up into him, and he looked between our bodies, watching as I rubbed my stiffening cock against his groin. When his eyes met mine again, they were dark with arousal. “Whatever you want,” I told him, grinding harder. “However you want.” I reached up to bury my fingers in his hair, bringing his face closer to mine. “But don’t you dare tell me it’s a mistake after. ’Cause if you do this and try to fucking dismiss me again . . .” I trailed off, failing to think up a harsh enough threat—aside from kicking him in the nuts.
“I won’t.” Jericho leaned down to lick a stripe up the column of my throat. He paused just under my jaw, sinking his teeth into that tender spot.
I hissed and bucked, my cock jerking.
“I love your freckles,” Jericho whispered, his breath hot against my throat. “I was wondering if you had them all over.” He moved lower, to my collarbones, and pressed a soft kiss into the dip between them. “I’m glad to see you do.”
I huffed out a laugh, but it turned into a moan as he continued his path downward, the coarse drag of his beard sensitizing my skin. He bypassed my cock with not even a kiss. Instead, tattooed fingers roughly forced my thighs wider apart as Jericho dipped his head, sucking one of my balls into his warm, wet mouth. He released it with an obscene-sounding pop, making me choke and curse under my breath.
Jericho stared up at me in amusement as he turned his attention to my taint, flicking a quick lick across the hypersensitive skin.
I gritted my teeth, grabbing fistfuls of the blankets. “Tease me later. Fuck me now.”
Jericho shook his head and hummed something that sounded like “huh-uh” right against the edge of my hole, the scratch of his beard and heat of his breath making the muscle clench.
When I pushed down into the touch, seeking more sensation, Jericho reared up to his knees. He took my cock in his palm, giving it a light, barely there stroke. “I fully intend to take my time with you. If we’re going to fuck, it’s happening on my terms.”
I glared at him, biting my lower lip in frustration. “Will you get naked, at least?”
Jericho arched a brow and gave my cock another feathery stroke. At the tip, he paused to rub his thumb over the slit, smearing the beginnings of pre-come. “Maybe if you ask me properly.”
I sucked my lip into my mouth, eyeing him in consideration. “Let me see your cock, please.”
Jericho smirked but didn’t move to take his sweats off. “Nope.”
I reached out to trace the line of his dark happy trail, the hair crisp against my fingertips. He had tattoos all over, including there—a colorful water dragon, curving from hip to hip. The four elements seemed to be a major theme in the artwork that decorated his body. I’d have to ask him about it sometime. But later. Right now I only wanted one thing.
I tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants and gave him my naughtiest grin. “May I see your cock, please?”
He grabbed my hand and put it back on the bed. “You’re getting warmer.”
“Please, Daddy, let me see your cock,” I said, testing the waters.
Jericho’s eyes darkened, and the dick-print on the front of his sweats became more pronounced.
Jackpot.
I pressed my palm to that stiff cock, giving it a squeeze. “Yeah. You like that? Want me to call you Daddy while you call me your boy?”
“Take them off me,” Jericho ordered.
Grinning, I sat up. It took some doing given our positions, but with Jericho’s help, I had him stripped bare within seconds.
I reached for his cock again, but Jericho shook his head and leaned back. “On your hands and knees. Head down, ass up. Let me see you.”
He didn’t have to say it a second time.
I shoved the blankets aside and positioned myself exactly as he’d requested. I rested my cheek on a Jericho-scented pillow and inhaled deeply, my hair still damp against my forehead. Jericho moved between my legs, pressing his knees to the insides of my thighs until I was spread wide open.
In a way, it embarrassed me to be this exposed in broad daylight, unable to hide a single flaw, even if I wanted to. It was a vulnerable position. Jericho could see, and judge, every naked inch of me. But it turned me on too—baring myself, being vulnerable to him, giving him control and trusting him not to hurt me. I’d been with older guys who’d tried to shame me for wanting to be fucked. They didn’t—or couldn’t—recognize the strength in this, the power, the exhilaration I felt when I made a man come, when he gripped my hips tight and lost himself inside me.
I loved to watch a man fall apart because I made him feel so incredible. I couldn’t wait to hear Jericho say my name when he was covered in sweat and wrecked with pleasure.
“Touch me. Please.” I didn’t care if I was begging. I’d wanted him for too long.
Jericho trailed his rough palms over my calves, my thighs, my neck, my ass. He draped himself across my back and reached under me to jerk my cock until I was rocking into each tug, both his hand and my dick slippery with pre-come, my eyes stinging from perspiration.
He whispered filthy promises into my ear, telling me all the dirty ways he’d make me come. Then he bit my nape, hard enough I knew there’d be a mark later, and jacked me faster. The sharp pain made me moan and forced an incoherent mumble from my mouth. At that moment, he surrounded me, owned me, and I wanted to stay in his arms forever.
Just when I thought he’d send me over the edge, he stopped and pulled away.
“No, no, no. Oh fuck.” I rubbed my forehead against the pillow, agitated and desperate for the orgasm he’d denied me. I was so primed to go off, one wrong move would make me lose it, with or without his help. “Fuck me, Daddy. Come on, fuck me.”
I didn’t know if it was the daddy or if Jericho had finally reached the end of his rope, but he left me long enough to go into the bathroom for supplies. He returned with lube and condoms and settled behind me again. I listened to the sound of him suiting up, the soft squelch as he slicked his latex-covered cock.
He slid a finger in me and fucked me like that for a couple of minutes. I wanted to yell for him to hurry the hell up, but I couldn’t summon the words. He’d rendered me speechless, so I told him with my body instead, shoving back until he uttered a low curse and withdrew his touch.
The blunt tip of his cock replaced his finger. As he pushed inside, he delivered a few quick, stinging slaps to my ass. My muscles clenched involuntarily, squeezing his dick and making us both moan.
“Fuck yeah, boy,” Jericho said hoarsely. His hands gripped my hips, and he started to thrust, pulling me back into each hard stroke.
“Oh shit,” I choked out, finding my voice again. “Gonna come.”
“No, you’re not, boy.” Jericho said it firmly, as if there wer
e no possible way I could disobey him.
I clenched my teeth and fisted my hands in the sheets, unintentionally yanking one corner loose from the mattress as I fought against my orgasm. My balls were so tight they ached, and a fierce pressure built steadily in my pelvis. The wet spot beneath me kept getting bigger because my cock leaked like crazy when I was this turned on, and Jericho’s aim was so on point he was pretty much milking my prostate. I reached between my legs to find the place where we were joined. God, he was huge, and the stretch was intense, but it got easier with every slick glide, my body relaxing, opening to accommodate his girth.
“You feel amazing,” he panted, his voice as rough as the way he handled me. “Goddamn. Wish I could keep you here in my bed all day.” He slammed me onto his cock, once, twice, deep, grinding thrusts that made my eyes cross. Then he stopped. “If you want this dick, take it. Fuck me, boy.”
With a moan, I started rolling my hips, riding his dick like it was mine to do with what I pleased. I kept the movements quick and shallow, determined to get myself off, to let him feel me come on his cock and drive him out of his mind until he completely lost control.
Jericho had other plans.
He pulled me upright with a hand in my hair so that my back slid against his sweaty chest. I turned my head, searching for his mouth, and he met me with a deep, tongue-tangling kiss. He wrapped a hand around my cock, his dick buried to the base inside me, and stripped my length until I bucked and spilled over his fingers with a loud, broken cry.
I expected him to push me down and jackhammer into me until he came, but he withdrew and manhandled me onto my back. In seconds he’d tossed the condom and planted a thigh on either side of my neck. “Suck my balls. Come on, boy. Get your daddy off.”
Holy shit. If I hadn’t already come, that would have catapulted me right over the edge.
I gripped his meaty ass and mouthed at his sac, letting it slide across my chin, inhaling desperate drags of his musky scent as he jerked off above me.
