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As a younger man, Jonas had been uncomfortable inside his large body. The fashionable silhouette among men of his rank ran slender, with bulk being associated with men who labored for a living. Jonas’ mother told him he had taken after his grandfather, who had stood heads above other men. Jonas’ years at university amongst other men his age only made him more aware of the differences between himself and them.
But, the way Derek looked at Jonas, as if every inch of him was glorious, made him feel pride in his body. Under Derek’s gaze he was not big and unsightly; he was desirable and strong. Jonas was reminded of how it felt to be looked at that way as Derek marveled over his exposed cock. Thick and long, it matched the rest of him in proportion, the head swollen and thick.
“My God,” Derek whispered, his gaze fixed on Jonas’ erection. “Just as perfect as I remember. Take it in your hand.”
Jonas moved without thinking, hypnotized by the low timbre of Derek’s voice and the haze of lust thickening the air around him. He drew a sharp breath through gritted teeth as he took his cock in hand. The throb of his heartbeat thrummed against his palm, and a droplet of seed welled at the slit in his head.
“Stroke yourself,” Derek commanded. “Slowly.”
Jonas obeyed, sliding his hand down to the base of his cock and tightening his grip before stroking up toward the tip. Derek groaned as if it were his prick being touched, and an answering sound burned in Jonas’ throat. He choked it down, determined to maintain some modicum of control. He found a slow rhythm, up and down, unable to resist using his thumb to gather wetness from his slit and smearing it along his shaft.
“Yes,” Derek whispered, his voice heavy and thick with arousal. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Jonas could not have stopped if he’d wanted to. There was something about Derek’s gaze on him and the warmth of his voice that made the act of self-pleasure far more titillating.
The sound of rustling fabric drew Jonas’ eyes back to Derek, and his fingers tightened around his length. Derek had begun pulling up his shirt with one hand and pushing his breeches down with the other. Jonas’ bollocks tightened as he watched Derek take himself in hand. His belly clenched and his mouth practically watered at the sight. He had imagined it so many times while jerking himself to completion, wondering if Derek did the same thing at the exact same moment as him.
“Do you remember those nights in Paris?” Derek asked, mimicking Jonas’ pace with his hand around his own cock. “Once we had grown accustomed to each other? I knew what you liked … you knew what I liked.”
Jonas squeezed his eyes shut, which proved to be a mistake because he only found himself drowning in memories so erotic he nearly spilled his seed then and there.
“We would lie in that bed in Genevieve’s chamber and strip each other of our clothes,” Derek murmured. “I could never bring myself to tear my lips away from yours.”
Jonas sighed, smoothing his thumb over his cockhead. He remembered those encounters all too well. He had felt the same as Derek—suspended in time, drunk on the warm, velvet caress of a tongue against his own.
“I think about it often,” Derek went on. “The feel of you … the taste of you … God, it was such a feat, taking you deep into my throat, but I relished the challenge. I wanted it all … all of you.”
A deep, pained moan echoed through the room and Jonas realized too late that it had come from him. He allowed his head to fall against the back of his chair, too lost in his own pleasure to maintain the dignity he had striven for. All that mattered was the pressure and friction of his hand around his cock and the vivid memories called to the forefront of his mind by Derek’s words. He could practically feel Derek’s mouth around him, wet and warm, his rough tongue stroking the underside of his shaft. He could see himself standing over Derek’s kneeling form, hands braced on either side of his head. His hips bucked off the chair as he imagined thrusting into Derek’s mouth and surrendering to the pleasure, chasing that explosive ending. He slipped his other hand into his breeches and cupped his stones, groaning at the spike of pleasure it sent through him.
“But as much as I loved having you in my mouth, there was something else I loved more,” Derek groaned.
Jonas bit his lip until he tasted blood, knowing where Derek would take his imagination next. “Derek,” he pleaded with a hoarse moan. “Please.”
“Stroke yourself faster,” Derek growled. “Don’t stop.”
Jonas increased his pace, his breath coming out on rough pants as he chased his ending. Even though he had done this countless times over the past seven years, something felt different about this impending release; as if something had been building up inside of him all this time and was now being set free.
“I have never felt more alive than when you would bury yourself deep inside me,” Derek said. “I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since you left me and have come up short every time. No one fills me the way you do, Jo. No one makes me feel so alive. I dream about you … I dream about you pounding into me, hard and fast … I dream about you making love to me slow and sweet. It’s you, Jo. It’s always been you.”
Jonas’ answer was lost in his throat as his entire body went rigid. He tightened his fingers around his cock and stroked himself through his finish as ribbons of hot seed coated his knuckles. The orgasm seemed to go on and on, his body convulsing as lightning bolts of white-hot pleasure shot down his spine. Desperate sounds escaped him as he milked himself dry, pumping his fist until he could not abide his own touch any longer.
As he floated in the depths of euphoria, Jonas faintly heard Derek’s curses muttered between sounds of ecstasy. Jonas lifted his head and pried his eyes open just as Derek reached his peak. His shoes scraped against the floor as if he struggled for purchase, and one hand clenched the arm of his chair as the other clutched his cock. Jonas watched with rapt fascination as Derek spent, the white streaks of his seed staining the back of his hand. He threw his head back with such wild abandon that Jonas nearly envied him the delight. What must it be like to feel pleasure in the way that Derek did—without reservation or fear? Derek had always chased the things that gave him pleasure. Unlike Jonas, who shunned the dangers of hedonistic joy, Derek threw himself headlong into bliss and never seemed to regret it.
Derek slouched, his breaths harsh and ragged as he fumbled about his torso as if searching his pockets. But he had disposed of his coat and thus did not have the handkerchief he obviously sought. With a sigh, Jonas went into his own breast pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. He used it to clean himself, and then folded it in half, offering the clean side to Derek.
Jonas turned his back and began setting his clothes to rights. He could hear Derek moving about but found himself unable to look in his direction. The euphoria of a glorious climax had loosened the tension from his body, but clarity had made a swift return to his mind. He glanced through the window, which overlooked a courtyard off the back of the establishment. The curtains sat slightly parted, allowing in a shaft of moonlight. Had someone walked past that window and glanced up, they might have witnessed Jonas with his breeches around his hips and his cock in his hand. They would have seen Derek …
He swallowed the acidic bile rising in the back of his throat and forced himself to remain calm. Even if they had been seen—which was highly unlikely—Jonas doubted there would be anything to fear. The members of Perdition would be too worried about keeping their own unseemly activities a secret to concern themselves with Jonas and Derek. Still, the very real fear of discovery clawed at his gut, making him feel as if he might lose the contents of his stomach.
Derek’s hand fell lightly on his shoulder. “Jo.”
Jonas flinched and spun, dislodging Derek’s hand and retreating a few steps. “Derek … don’t.”
A brief flicker of hurt showed on Derek’s face before it was smothered by annoyance. “What exactly are you asking me not to do? Want you? Tell you that even though we did not touch one another just now, I have not been so intimate with someone since we were last together? Goddamn it, Jo, I could never make heads nor tails of what you want!”
“What I want is not your concern, aside from my desire to keep you from marrying my sister.”
Jonas felt like a heel, but could not seem to stifle the vitriol pouring from his mouth. He felt as raw and vulnerable as he supposed Derek must feel after what they had just shared. However, it was that very vulnerability that frightened Jonas, reminding him of how dangerous it could be to let down his guard. If Derek could not be reasonable about this, then Jonas would.
