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“I won’t make you work too hard for it today,” Wren told him, tracing a tender touch down the side of his jaw. He lifted his hands again. ‘Open your mouth.’
Percy did, and he sucked in a breath, almost choking as Wren slowly opened his jeans and drew himself out. He was only half-hard, a little limp but fat, and God, Percy wanted to feel the weight on his tongue. He whimpered, but Wren didn’t react, which meant he probably couldn’t hear it.
Not that it mattered. Wren’s gaze was on him, sharp and unforgiving. He was absolutely attuned to every motion of Percy’s body because when he twitched, Wren ran another soothing touch along his cheek. His fingertips trailed patterns over his skin until they came to his jaw, and then he was taken in a rough, almost painful grip.
Percy sucked in a breath because he knew what was coming next. Wren shuffled forward, then stroked his thumb over the center of Percy’s tongue.
“Out,” he commanded aloud.
Percy let his tongue slide from between his teeth, and he let out a harder groan when Wren laid his cock on top of it. He didn’t move, and he held Percy so firmly—a silent order to be still. And God help him, but he was determined not to move a single inch until he was given permission. He breathed in and out through his nose, slow and steady.
Wren stood there for a short eternity, just watching himself sit and slowly thicken until Percy’s jaw began to ache. When he gave the smallest uncomfortable squirm, Wren’s eyes darkened, and then he thrust forward without warning. Percy choked—gagging—loving absolutely everything about that feeling. He curled his fingers into fists since he wasn’t told he was allowed to touch, and he let Wren tilt his head back so he could get a proper face-fucking.
Wren’s dick hit the back of his throat several times in succession, stealing his breath, and Percy thought if he died like this, he’d die happy. His body felt boneless, even as he tensed to receive each and every slide of that heavy cock in his mouth.
He hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he felt a tap on his cheek, and he looked up at Wren, who was staring down at him. ‘Watch me,’ Wren signed. ‘Eyes open.’
Percy hummed around Wren, who shuddered at the vibration, and then Wren smiled and stroked a touch through his hair. “Good boy,” he said aloud, and then he repeated it in sign, and somehow, it was even more profound on his hands. “I’m not going to come, but I’m going to get close. Do not suck.” Wren let go of Percy’s hair. ‘Understand?’ he added with his hand.
Percy hummed again and ignored the burning in his eyelids and the desire to sink into darkness as Wren took him by the face once more and began to thrust sharp and rabbit fast through his lips. Percy breathed when he could and held it when the dick was cutting off his air supply, and it only took moments before he felt like he was floating.
He was in his body, but he felt weightless and wanton and needy, and he never wanted it to end. When Wren pulled out, Percy suddenly felt like his heart was breaking. His eyes filled with tears, and Wren took notice immediately, quickly taking Percy by the front of his throat, grounding him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Wren said aloud. “I’m going to put you on the bed, eat your ass until you’re sobbing, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
The sob finally escaped Percy’s chest, but it was one of need, not pain. He nodded, then laid his hand flat to his chest and circled it. ‘Please.’
‘Good boy,’ Wren signed again, and Percy shivered as Wren eased him to his feet and slowly, methodically, stripped him of his clothes.
When he was naked, Percy became aware of the fact that Wren was still dressed. His shirt clung to his torso, and his jeans were loose where they were open with his hard dick still hanging out. But it felt humbling and a strange kind of wonderful to be totally exposed to Wren the way he was and not have the same given in return.
Because it would be. Eventually. And Percy understood now what a gift the universe had given him.
Percy wanted to tell him that. He wanted to tell him how hard he was falling and how much he was willing, but he hadn’t been given permission to speak in either language. So he stood there waiting, and he sighed with relief when Wren finally put his hands on him again and backed him up toward the bed.
He was turned at the last minute, but instead of being shoved down to the mattress, Wren wrapped himself around Percy’s back and held him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this as emotionless as you might need.”
Percy cleared his throat, then waited for permission to speak.
“Tell me,” Wren whispered.
Percy tipped his head back against Wren’s shoulder. “Is it me?”
Wren stiffened, holding Percy tighter. “Yes, gorgeous. It is you. In the best way,” he added before Percy could panic. “I’ve been holding myself apart from you for so long, holding back all of this…this stuff I’m feeling.”
Percy understood almost immediately. He loved it when Wren was colder with him, and methodical, and powerful. He loved the idea of Wren giving the illusion that only his own pleasure mattered, and Percy was just a vehicle for that. But he understood why that would come later, with time, and was basking in what they had now.
It was all new for Wren in ways Percy would never fully understand, and he was willing to give him as much grace and time as he needed to settle into his bones.
“This is for you too,” Percy told him. “Not just me. Take what you need. Let me give you what you need.”
Wren sighed and pushed his face into the crook of Percy’s neck, kissing his thundering pulse. “Get on the bed, gorgeous. Spread eagle, and hold the comforter as tight as you can.”
Percy shuddered, then leaned forward to obey. The duvet was cold against his overheated skin and not in a soothing way. But he didn’t mind it because the second he had his legs spread, Wren was on him.
Firm, demanding hands gripped him by the backs of his knees and pushed until his legs were cradled against his chest. He was exposed and raw, blushing so hot he felt dizzy with it as Wren just sat there and stared. He started to squirm, stilling only when Wren slapped him on the side of his thigh.
There were no words exchanged—there was only touch, and Percy was soon lost to the sensation of Wren running the pads of his fingers over his stomach, his legs, his cock, his balls. Everything felt a thousand times more intense than they had before.
