Zain watched him. "What are you -"
Seth reached behind himself.
The sound Zain made was not dignified. It was not composed. It was not the sound of a man who had spent six years building walls and turning silence into armor. It was the sound of a man watching the person he loved open himself up while sitting in his lap, and it bypassed every defense Zain had ever built.
"You like watching," Seth said. His voice was strained, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes stayed on Zain's. Holding. Daring. "I know you do. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."
"You're always paying attention."
"Curse of my charming personality." Seth added another finger. His head tipped back. His throat was exposed, marked with fading bruises from nights before, and the sight of them, the evidence of Zain's mouth on him, made something possessive and primal growl behind Zain's ribs.
Zain's hands found Seth's thighs. Gripped. His thumbs stroked the inner seam of muscle, close to where Seth's hand was working, close enough to feel the movement.
"You're stalling," Zain said. His voice was wrecked and they hadn't even started.
"I'mpreparing. There's a difference. Some of us appreciate the process."
"You once told me you've never been patient in your life."
"I contain multitudes." Seth withdrew his fingers. Reached back and wrapped his slick hand around Zain's cock. The grip was firm, proprietary, and Zain's hips jerked involuntarily. Seth smirked. "Eager."
"I will flip you over."
"No you won't. You want to watch."
He was right. Zain wanted to watch. Wanted to see Seth's face when he sank down, wanted to see the way his expression went from sharp to shattered in the space between one breath and the next.
Seth lined him up. Held eye contact. And sank down in one slow, devastating slide.
They both stopped breathing.
Seth's hands braced on Zain's chest. His fingers curled, nails biting skin. His eyes were closed now, his mouth open, his whole body adjusting, accepting, settling into the fullness with a sound that was half sigh, half moan and entirely obscene.
"Move," Zain said. His hands were on Seth's hips. Not guiding. Holding. Holding on.
"Bossy." Seth opened his eyes. Green and bright and alive. "Say please."
"I have never said please in my life."
"First time for everything."
"Seth."
Seth moved. Rolled his hips in a slow circle that made Zain see stars. Grinned down at him like a man who had found the nuclear codes to his lover's composure and was enjoying every second of the detonation.
"Please," Zain said. The word was gravel. He barely recognized his own voice.
"Was that so hard?"
"I am going to make you pay for this."
"God, I hope so."
Seth rode him. Set a pace that was slow at first, torturously slow, his body rising and falling with a control that was its own kind of power, the power of a man who had spent his life having control taken from him and had learned to wield it like a weapon. Zain watched from below and let him have it. Let Seth set the rhythm, the depth, the angle. Let Seth use his body to find what he needed.
Then Seth found the angle.
His whole body jerked. His nails raked down Zain's chest. "There - right there -fuck-"
