Jericho searched his face, frowning, before dipping his head to fit their lips together in a kiss that lingered. When Jericho’s rough knuckles trailed across his cheek, he gave a ragged shudder. Atticus flushed as Jericho tugged his chin down, slipping his tongue inside.
Part of Atticus wished he would just kiss him like they’d kissed in the cabin, raw and angry. Painful and aggressive. This softness, the slow teasing slide of Jericho’s tongue over his, the way he caressed the side of his face, it made his chest tight, just like in his office earlier.
“See?” he said between kisses. “This is intimacy.”
“This is just me mirroring you,” Atticus said, even as he lifted his head to capture Jericho’s mouth once again.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Jericho teased, sucking on Atticus’s bottom lip. “The minute I kiss you, your whole body relaxes. You hate it—hate that I have that effect on you—but it’s true. You like me taking charge.”
Atticus frowned. “That’s just a physical response. A reaction to yours.”
Jericho threaded his other hand in Atticus’s hair, running blunt nails along his scalp before tipping his head to the side to run his nose along his neck. He used his teeth to tug at his earlobe before rasping, “No, Freckles. It’s psychological. Some part of you recognizes the dominant part of me. That’s not mirroring. If it was, you’d be trying to control everything, trying to maintain our perceived power dynamic.”
“Perceived power dynamic?” Atticus managed.
“Mm, this idea that because you’re older, a little larger, make more money, that somehow you’re the aggressor between us. But it’s not true, is it?”
How the fuck would Atticus know? He had no gauge. Sex with Kendra was rare and often perfunctory. She preferred her toys. Was he really…submissive to Jericho?Open your mouth. Give me your tongue. Open your legs.He knew the answer. He just hated it. Or hated that he didn’t hate it.
Jericho was kissing him again, those deep, drugging kisses that had Atticus’s cock hardening between them. “Whenever I kiss you, touch you, tell you what to do…your eyes get all hazy and you just do it. You’re so…obedient. It’s so goddamn sexy.”
Was it? Did Jericho truly like Atticus like this? Why did he care? It had to be mirroring. Atticus didn’t have feelings. Not the big ones. He could be angry and irritated and even embarrassed, but attachments, empathy? He wasn’t capable. What was happening to him?
Jericho was lazily rocking against him now, his cock sliding along the groove of Atticus’s hip. “You like not having to think. You like being told what to do. You’re quickly becoming my favorite.”Favorite what?Atticus thought, sure he was as red as the tomato sauce on their pizza, but Jericho was still talking. “You’re not a mirror with me, Freckles… No matter how much it annoys you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Atticus finally managed, eyes rolling behind his eyelids as sparks of pleasure rolled over him with each new rocking movement.
“Okay, Freckles. If you say so,” Jericho said, his voice breathless but no less amused. “Wrap your legs around me.”
Atticus complied without question, only further proving Jericho’s point, but it seemed he’d found a distraction. His hands went under Atticus to wrap around his shoulders, holding him in place so he could work himself against Atticus with purpose.
When Jericho dropped his head to bury his face against Atticus’s throat, he couldn’t stop himself from tracing the muscles of his back, down to cup the swell of his ass, spurring him on.
Jericho panted words into his skin as he moved. “Mm, yeah, that’s it. Just like that. Fuck, you make me so hard. Fuck. Fuck.”
Atticus felt Jericho come, felt the sudden wetness on his hip, but before he could even contemplate what he was supposed to do about it, Jericho sat up, swiping fingers through his release and smearing it over Atticus’s cock before closing his fist around him.
Jericho gave a few slow tugs, gaze locking on Atticus. “Use my fist to get yourself off.” Atticus hesitated for only a minute before giving two hesitant rolls of his hips. “You can do better than that. Show me.”
Atticus threw his forearm over his eyes, not wanting to look at Jericho as he began to work up into his palm. It was a little sticky and Jericho’s hand was sandpaper rough, but that didn’t stop him from chasing his release. Hell, it somehow made it hotter. But it wasn’t just the tight squeeze around his cock, it was his other hand skimming his lower belly, rubbing his inner thighs, trailing the pads of his fingertips over the skin just above the base of his cock until it felt like he was just one overstimulated nerve ending.
Every third stroke, Jericho would twist his hand, rubbing his thumb over his slit. “Fuck, you’re leaking so much,” Jericho said, like he was talking to himself. “You look so hot like this, so fucking needy. I love watching you work for it. Come on. Look at me.”
Atticus made a sound in the back of his throat at his words, forcing himself to do as he was told, gaze locking on Jericho’s almost black eyes. Then a hand, those clever fucking fingers, were sliding between his cheeks to play over his hole. Just that touch was enough. He came hard for the second time that night, spilling over Jericho’s fist.
Jericho gave a rough laugh as he wiped his hand on the bed before collapsing beside him. He looked far more put together than Atticus, who was the color of a naked mole rat and breathing like he’d just run a marathon.
They lay there in comfortable silence for a while. “Stay the night?”
Atticus shook his head. “I have to meet my father on the other side of town at six a.m.”
It wasn’t a lie. He did have to meet Thomas, but it was just for a couple of signatures. It wouldn’t take more than ten minutes. But sleeping beside Jericho all night sounded…dangerous. He didn’t want to lose it like his brothers had. He couldn’t start thinking of Jericho as anything more than he was. A distraction. He wouldn’t get all tangled up in knots like Adam and August. He had some self-control.
Jericho gave him a knowing look but just smirked. “Your loss, Freckles. I make a great pillow.”
Atticus let himself gaze longingly at Jericho’s hairless chest, wanting to explore his body as thoroughly as Jericho had explored his. Well, maybe not exactly how Jericho had explored his. But it didn’t matter. He needed to get up and walk out before he gave in to temptation.
He stood, finding his clothes. “Put your name and number in my phone.”
