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Which is why I’m submitting this way. Why I’m letting him in a place I’ve never let him in before. Because maybe he doesn’t want to hear that I love him, but maybe it’s different when I show him. Even if I show him in the dirtiest, most depraved and deviant way.
“That’s right, pretty boy,” I whisper, my voice choked. “Fuck me like it’s our last night together. Make us come.”
His breath hitches, and then he starts pumping in and out of me, and I watch in awe as his mouth hangs open, the way his cheeks darken, the sweat beading on his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin.
Then he leans down and kisses me, drawing my tongue up against his, and I wrap my hand around his throat holding him there. He’s shivering with lust now, and his body is moving on top of mine, each thrust, each vibration rubbing along my own cock. There’s no sensation like this, the feeling of having your ass and your dick worked at once, and I know I’m not going to last much longer, even though I want to do this all night.
“Keep fucking me,” I whisper against his lips. “Keep going until there’s nothing left in you.”
He slides his arm underneath me, pulling my body against his, my cock effectively pinned, and starts riding me harder, faster, and then I fully let go.
I come with a snarl, with a strangled cry that comes from some other part of me, some other realm where I don’t even know my own name. I am out of my head, propelled by the drug and by Brom and my vision blurs and goes dark and I’m gone, terribly gone. But then the feeling of my hot seed spurting long ropes across my stomach, smearing between our bellies, brings me back in enough to open my eyes and watch as Brom releases into my ass.
His head goes back, his thick neck arched, stomach tense, muscles shaking, and I can feel the heat of his seed as it shoots inside me, the pulse of his cock as he empties out. He lets out a series of staccato grunts, each louder than the next.
With a low moan he lowers his chin to look at me, this raw expression of wonderment and something else. Something tender and soft, not the adjectives I usually use to describe him, but still something that feels like it comes from somewhere honest.
Or drug induced.
He collapses against me, gasping for breath, burying his head at the crook of my neck while I put an arm around him.
“You did so well, Brom,” I whisper to him. “And even when you’re on top of me, you’re still so pretty when you come.”
He exhales heavily, and I can feel his heart beating against mine, just as erratic as he is.
Then he lifts his head, his elbows planted on either side of my shoulders, and grabs my face in his hands. He proceeds to stare at me, just stares at me until I feel it in my soul.
“What?” I whisper as I search his onyx eyes, not wanting to break the spell, this moment that feels deep and poignant, something real pushing through the haze.
“Love is involuntary,” he says, his voice quiet and harsh. “I love you, Ichabod Crane. I love you against my own will.”
I go still, unable to believe my own ears.
“It’s not the drug,” he continues, running his thumb over my lip as I stare at him, frozen. “I know that’s what you’re going to say, but it’s not that. The feeling was there before. It’s always been there. I love you because that’s just how it is. It’s as automatic as taking my next breath.”
My heart soars, thumping against my ribs. “Would you rather not love me?”
He gives me a rare, sweet smile. “It would be so much easier if I didn’t.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my lips, his beard scratching my chin. “But I do.”
We fall asleep in each other’s arms, a deep, blissful drug- and sex-induced sleep that the both of us have sorely needed. By the time I open my eyes, the grey light from outside is bright enough to illuminate the room. If I had an early class this morning, I surely would have missed it.
“Good morning,” I whisper to Brom, who grunts into the pillow. “I have a feeling you may have missed your first class. We slept in.”
“Who cares?” he grumbles, still face down. “None of it matters anyway.”
He has a point there.
“Fair point,” I say, lifting his arm off me and getting to my feet and stretching. “But we need to keep up appearances for now.”
I walk over to the window, twisting at my waist, trying to wake up, when I freeze.
