Page 41 of Trust my Heart

“Luke,” he got out, his voice cracked clean down the middle. “Luke, I’m close, I’m gonna, I’m…”

I pulled off him.

He shouted, actually shouted, his hips jerking up into empty air, his cock flushed dark and wet and twitching where I’d left it, right at the edge and no further.

“Not yet,” I said, licking my lips.

“You son of a bitch.” He was panting, his head thrown back, his throat working. “You absolute…”

“You don’t come until I say.” I pressed a kiss to the crease of his hip, soft, at odds with all the rest of it. “You’ve had hold of everything for a month. Tonight I’ve got it. When you come, it’s because I let you. You understand me.”

“I hate you!”

“No, you don’t.” I took him back in my mouth.

I brought him up the second time slower still, mean with it, learning exactly where his edge sat and walking him right to it. Sweat had come up all over him, and the whole room had gone thick with the smell of him, sweat and skin and want.

“Luke, please.” It was barely words now, torn out of him between ragged breaths. “Please, I can’t, I need to, let me, I’ll do anything you want, just let me come…”

I let him get right to the brink, felt him start to go, and pulled off him a second time and left him hanging there, shaking. There was only so long I could kneel with him on my tongue and my own cock throbbing in my jeans and give him nothing, and holding the line was costing me every bit as much as it cost him. But not yet.

His free hand found my jaw and tried to drag me up off him, and it wasn’t for himself this time. Even out of his mind he couldn’t stand to only be given to. He needed to hand something back.

“I want,” he managed. “Let me, I want my mouth on you, I want to touch you, I need to do something…”

“I know what you want.” I caught the hand and laced my fingers through his and held on tight. “You want to make this about me. Not tonight. Tonight you take it, and you let me love you, and that’s the whole job.”

“Then please. Please. I need…”

“I know what you need.” I let him slip off my tongue, kissed the head of him once, and reached for the drawer.

I got the lube out and my hands weren’t steady when I did, which told me plenty about how close to my own edge I was. I slicked two fingers and pressed one into him, slow, and he opened around it easy and pushed down onto it, greedy for it, his cock still hard and dark against his stomach.

“That’s it,” I said, watching my finger sink into him. “Look at you taking that.”

I worked him open without rushing, one finger and then two, until he was rocking down onto my hand and cursing me steady under his breath. I crooked them and found the place inside him that pulled his spine right up off the mattress, and he grabbed the headboard behind him with both hands and held on and said my name like it hurt him. For a while I lost track of everything but that, three fingers deep and him falling apart around them, begging, past sense, sweat running off his ribs, until I was out of patience and so hard it was its own kind of ache.

“Now, Luke. God. Now. I’m ready. Please. I need you in me, I need…”

“I know.” I drew my fingers out of him.

I got off the bed and out of my own clothes at last, my jeans open, my shorts shoved down with them and kicked off, my shirt dragged over my head. My cock ached the second the air hit it, hard and leaking after a whole night of me shutting it up in denim and paying it no mind, which told me plenty about how thin my own control had worn. I’d been running the same game on myself the whole time I ran it on him.

I came back down over him. The condom went on with a hand that shook, and I slicked myself, and the first pull of my own fist over my cock was nearly too much after holding off that long. I got a hand under his thigh and pushed it up toward his chest, opening him for me, then lined up and pressed the head of me against him and stopped there, right at the edge of going in. He tried to push back and take me, and I held his hip and kept him still.

“Look at me,” I said.

He did. His eyes were black and wet and locked right on mine.

“I love you,” I said. “I about lost my mind this month thinking I’d thrown this away. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not letting you carry us on your own again either. You’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours.” No hesitation in it at all. “Luke, I’m yours, I’ve been yours the whole time, please, please…”

I pushed into him.

The slow drag of sinking into him tore a groan loose, his first and then mine. I took it inch by inch, gave him room to open around me, until I was all the way in and my hips were flush against him and we were both shaking with it. He gripped me hard from the inside, and his breath came apart in rough pieces against the side of my neck.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, you feel…”