Stars shine in his dark eyes. A galaxy pointed right at me. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“When do I ever just say anything?”
“Good point.”
I smile and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He sighs into it, melts against the wall. “Good boy.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the packet of lube and the condom I’ve been carrying since he let me fuck him the first time. I wanted to be prepared if he ever needed me again. Good thing, too, because it turns out that this time, I’m the one in need.
“Be a good boy and hold still while I put on a condom.”
“What if I don’t?” He moves like he’s going to try and slip away, so I bite his shoulder again, holding him in place. He pants, cusses, his breath hot in the chilly air, our voices barely audible through the storm. His body writhes against mine as I unbutton my pants, and the press of his hard cock against mine is incendiary.
“Oh fuck, primal play,” he breathes while I glove up and slick my cock with lube. “Fuck yeah.”
But this isn’t play. It’s not play at all.
I pull one of his legs over my elbow, spreading him open and he leans back against the wall hard, off-balance. He’s immobile like this, at my mercy, and I take a second to press my slick fingers inside him, feeling how tight he is, preparing him for me.
“I’m not playing,” I rasp near his ear, nuzzling his damp skin, needing to be closer. “I’m fucking serious about you, Tommy.”
“Oh fuck, give me more,” he hits his fist against the wall and presses down onto my fingers, so I line up my dick and push inside him, going deeper and deeper as he shouts and adjusts to me, not stopping until he’s mine.
“I need you,” I repeat, starting a rough, frenzied pace. I can’t do anything else. One hand drifts to the shallow cut along his ribs and I get even more punishing. “I’m keeping you.”
“Please!” he shouts, and I don’t know what he’s begging for. It could be for me to give him more pleasure, or for me to keep him. Either way, he’ll get it. I suck a hickey onto his neck, then press my fingers against his throat while kissing him breathless, controlling the blood flow so he can let go of his anxiety and his noisy thoughts. I want to silence all those impulsive voices, those lies. I want to fuck him so good he finds peace.
Want to make him believe me.
Make him mean it when he says he loves me.
Did he mean it?
Tommy pulls his mouth away, his moan frustrated and pained. He scrapes his fingers down my back and peers at me through eyes slitted nearly shut. “Just cum,” he pants. “I don’t–I can’t–I just want you to. Don’t worry about mine.”
I freeze, thinking fast. It’s true that I could simulate the experience of being high if I choke him long enough, restrict his blood enough. But that Band-Aid can’t be used every time. And even with it, he needs more. More than just being high. He needs–
He lets out a protesting mewl when I pull out of him abruptly, stumbling as I let his leg down from the crook of my elbow.
“Wait, I–” He grabs my arm, sounding anxious. But I’m not leaving him, and I hate that he’s still in such an insecure headspace, still feeling so chaotic inside, that he thought I was. I slide my arms around him, kiss him because I can’t help myself, and drag him into the rain.
He sucks in a gasp at the cold, and I feel the storm swallow us whole. No longer inside the bell tower’s shelter, we’re in the middle of it all. Lightning flashes, turning the rivulets of rain on Tommy’s dark skin into silver veins. The noise is everything,everywhere. The rain soaks the clothes hanging from me in seconds, and I drag Tommy with me to the other side of the bell tower’s wall.
I spin him around, his back to my front, but don’t push him against the wall. I press my own hand against it, bracing it there over his shoulder, keeping him close to me with my other hand pressed against his chest and gripping his throat.
Without a word between us, only harsh breathing and need, I press back inside him. Our skin steams as the cold rain hits our hot bodies, but our shivers have nothing to do with the temperature.
Tommy shouts with pleasure as this new angle lets me fuck into him just right. His knees shake and I tighten my grip on his neck, taking advantage of his weakness to put pressure on his throat. He moans, turns his head and bites my bicep. I retaliate with my teeth in his shoulder, and he yelps, cussing and trembling on my dick.
Thunder crashes, rolling through the air so hard I feel it in my lungs.
Tommy braces one hand against the wall and I cover it with mine, my fingers on top of his. He makes a weak noise of pleasure in response to the intimate, non-sexual touch. Or maybe it’s in response to the way I’m fucking him.
His other hand goes to his cock, and I love that he’s feeling far gone enough that he’s mindlessly getting himself off, not worried about whether or not he’ll perform, or whether or not this is right or wrong. I change my grip to cut off his air, put my all into proving with my body that I’ll always pass this test, always give him what he needs.
Tommy’s head hangs and I take advantage of his exposed shoulders to leave more bite marks, more hickeys. He’s trembling so hard in my arms he’s practically vibrating. I finallylet him breathe, and his heaving gasp for air is shaky and uninhibited.
“Young-gi!” He cries my name in that almost-frightened way he does when he’s about to cum, like he’s shocked and scared by the idea of it.
