Jericho moved to lie beside him, turning on his side, one jean-clad calf hooking over Atticus’s naked one. He took two fingers, gently running the rough pads over Atticus’s lips. “Oh, no. We’re not doing that. You had your chance to leave and you refused, so now, I’m going to spend the rest of the night taking you apart piece by piece until you’re begging for my cock, until you can’t think of anything else but me inside you. Got it?”
Atticus’s insides shivered at his words. “I don’t beg.”
Jericho’s chuckle was infuriating, humiliating even. He pressed his lips to Atticus’s ear. “Who are you kidding, Freckles? You know you’ll beg if I tell you to. You’ll do anything I ask if I want you to.” As if to prove his point, he rasped, “Open your mouth.”
Atticus’s eyelids slid closed, but he complied, his embarrassment growing. Jericho slid those two fingers inside, rubbing them along Atticus’s tongue. He tasted vaguely chemical, a little like dirt or motor oil maybe, but it only made Atticus harder.
“Suck,” Jericho demanded.
Atticus closed his lips around his fingers, nursing as Jericho fucked them in and out of his mouth.
Jericho gave a pleased rumble. “See? It’s okay, though. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell. Nobody has to know how much you love this but me.” He pulled his fingers free, smearing them across his lips. “I wonder what else I can make you do for me?”
Atticus fucking wondered, too. He was in over his head.
Jericho couldn’t have asked for a better distraction than this. Atticus, naked and willing in his bed, looking so fucking vulnerable it made Jericho want to comfort him and violate him at the same time. God, the way he sucked on his fingers, the way he did anything Jericho asked. It made it so easy to forget how he’d had his heart ripped from his chest a couple of hours ago.
He didn’t want to think about that. Instead, he focused on Atticus. He bent his head and licked over one nipple before sucking it into his mouth, tugging lightly with his teeth, his cock throbbing at the way Atticus’s breath hitched.
He gave his other nipple the same attention, letting his fingers skim over his belly, feeling the way the muscles dipped as he passed. He stopped just above the base of his erection but made no move to go further. Not yet.
As he played with him, alternating between kissing his pliant lips and teasing his nipples, Atticus began to squirm, his frustration obvious. Jericho just rubbed soothing circles over his lower belly with his thumb, not willing to move any quicker. He was planning on making a meal out of Atticus and he wouldn’t be rushed.
He rolled on top of him, settling between his knees to kiss down his chest, his fingers smoothing over his ribs, letting his mouth follow their path. By the time his lips brushed over his lower abdomen, Atticus was trembling. Still, Jericho ignored the flushed cock jutting out from a nest of red curls, instead nosing along the place where Atticus’s leg and torso met, tonguing and sucking at his balls.
Atticus made a noise of disappointment when Jericho stood, walking to the side table and grabbing the lube, holding up the condom, showing it to Atticus, who stared at it for a long moment before shaking his head. Jericho knew it was stupid to just take him at his word, but he didn’t want anything between them, and Atticus was plenty old enough to make his own decisions, older than Jericho even. Neither of them really had a great deal of respect for their lives or the lives of others. This was probably the least reckless thing they would do all week.
He dropped the lube on the bed, shucked his pants and underwear, then sat between Atticus’s splayed legs. Jericho ran both hands over his torso before lightly dragging his fingertips along his inner thighs. It was like his whole body was blushing under Jericho’s attention. A light sheen of perspiration coated his skin.
“Bend your knees. Heels on the mattress.” Jericho’s nostrils flared as Atticus complied without question. “Open your legs for me. Wider. That’s good. That’s really good. I want to taste you.”
Atticus’s breath left him in a rush as he lifted his head. “What?”
Jericho dragged his gaze upwards to meet his. “I want my tongue inside you.”
“Fuck,” Atticus managed, sounding undone as he flopped his head back down on the pillow.
Some deep, primal part of Jericho liked being the one who unwound Atticus. Was it selfish to want to be the only one who made Atticus feel…something? Probably, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but hearing him fall apart. He needed to let go and Jericho needed to be the one who got him there.
He laid between Atticus’s legs, running his thumbs along the inner flesh of his thighs before he tried to spread him open. His muscles clenched instinctively. “Relax for me.” He nosed at the base of his cock, running his tongue along the underside before sucking the tip into his mouth.
Atticus made a lost sound, his hands clenching in Jericho’s hair almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted him to stop or take more of him. It didn’t matter, Jericho wasn’t giving Atticus what he wanted until he begged for it. That was the deal.
He pulled off, sucking at his balls until Atticus tried to pull him back up to his cock. Jericho chuckled, ignoring his urging. This time, he pushed his legs back, leaving his hole exposed so he could put his face in the heart of him, laving his tongue over his hole, tasting him the way he wanted.
Atticus made this sort of half-bitten moan each time Jericho’s tongue probed him, twisting handfuls of his hair until he was a little worried he might tear it out. Listening to Atticus fall apart made him want to forget the plan, made him want to just thrust into him and force his body to rearrange itself to accommodate him. He didn’t know why he needed Atticus to submit, but he did. He needed him to admit only Jericho could be this for him, whatever it was.
He reached for the lube, cursing as he accidentally poured too much onto his fingers, before righting the bottle, earning a soft laugh from Atticus. He looked up and grinned. Atticus smiled back, lids fluttering shut as Jericho massaged the pad of his fingertip against the tight ring of muscle. This time, when he took Atticus’s cock into his mouth, he took him to the back of his throat, working a finger inside in time with each sucking pull of his lips.
Atticus clenched around him, but then seemed to force himself to relax. Jericho started slowly, trying not to think about how it would feel when it was his dick sinking into the tight heat of Atticus’s body and not just his finger.
Each time Jericho grazed his prostate, Atticus whimpered, precum leaking onto his tongue. The next time he pulled back, he pressed a second finger in with the first, slowing when Atticus hissed, advancing only as he relaxed around him.
He took his time working him open, using the sounds Atticus made as a guide, enjoying listening to the way his breaths began to quicken, his noises growing impatient, feeling the way he began to squirm with impatience, just for him.
“I think I’m good,” Atticus whispered, voice raw.
Jericho pulled back, standing before he reached down and dragged Atticus to the edge of the mattress. He made a show of slicking the lube over his cock before bracing his hand on the bed, leaning over him, working his length between his cheeks to tease it over his hole. He made no move to breach him, though, just put the slightest bit of pressure before retreating again.
