Arlo clenched Dimitri’s wrists, keeping him from completing the task. “Wait,” he begged breathlessly. Dimitri frowned but paused. “I just need you to know…it’s bad.”
“What’s bad?” Dimitri asked.
Arlo swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “The bruises. They’re bad, but they look worse than they are. Okay? They don’t hurt much or anything.”
Dimitri’s face was a thunderstorm as he gently pulled free of Arlo’s hands before tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it to the pile between them. Dimitri’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening until the muscle ticked. Any erection Arlo had disappeared as Dimitri took in the array of bruises at various stages of healing.
Arlo closed his eyes. It was ugly. They were ugly. So fucking ugly.
“Jesus,” Dimitri whispered, gentle hands sweeping along his battered torso. “What did he do to you?”
Tears slipped down his cheeks. “I told you it was bad.”
Dimitri’s fingertips skimmed his waistband, teasing just beneath it as he reached for his button and zipper. When Arlo opened his eyes, Dimitri was on his knees before him. He picked up Arlo’s leg, removing one shoe, then the other, before once more reaching for the fastening of Arlo’s jeans.
Arlo didn’t stop him, just lifted his legs so Dimitri could free him of his clothes. He fought the urge to cover himself. There was really no time. Arlo’s mouth was slack as Dimitri’s thumbs swept along his hip bones before he leaned forward to kiss the spot just above his belly button.
Arlo’s cock twitched. Dimitri’s gaze met his, and the sight of him on his knees had all the blood rushing from his head to his dick fast enough to make him dizzy. Dimitri buried his face in the spot where his thigh met his hip, his breath rustling the curls there. Arlo couldn’t stop the whine that escaped.
Dimitri’s large hands ran from the backs of Arlo’s thighs to cup his ass. “I should have stepped in weeks ago,” he muttered, dropping kisses to the bruises on his ribs and belly. “I should have killed him,” he growled. “I should have told somebody.”
Arlo shook his head. “Please, I didn’t want anybody to know. It was too embarrassing.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Dimitri said vehemently.
“Would you have let somebody do this to you?” Arlo countered, tugging Dimitri’s head back.
Dimitri appeared to think about it. “Yeah. You. I’d let you hurt me if you wanted to. I’d let you do pretty much anything to me if I’m being honest.”
Arlo’s breath left him in a whoosh at the wet rasp of Dimitri’s tongue licking a line from the spot just above his now rock-hard cock to his belly button. Arlo’s fingers clenched in Dimitri’s hair, desperate for something to hold on to. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Dimitri rasped. “I can’t help it. You smell so fucking good right here. It’s making me crazy. I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”
Before Arlo could plan a response, there was a knock on the door and Noah’s timid voice said, “Your change of clothes is outside the door. If you’re…um, busy…you can just leave your clothes in there. I can grab them later, or whatever.”
Arlo started to say, ‘thank you,’ but the words became a soft cry of surprise as Dimitri swallowed him down, the tight suction of his mouth causing Arlo’s knees to buckle. Dimitri’s grip on his ass was the only thing keeping him upright.
He shot his hand out to catch on the wall beside the shower. The shower they still weren’t in yet.
Arlo wasn’t about to point that out, though. His eyelids fluttered as Dimitri’s mouth worked over him until it felt as if flames licked along his nerve endings, sending pleasure pulsing through him.
Arlo tried to stifle the sounds pouring from his lips, but when Dimitri took his cock in hand and jerked himself in time with the long, sure pull of his lips, Arlo didn’t know how. It was too fucking good. His mouth felt so good.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, ” Arlo chanted breathlessly.
Dimitri’s fingers dug into Arlo’s ass cheek as he took him impossibly deep, swallowing around him until Arlo wondered if anybody had ever died from ecstasy. “Stop. You have to stop,” Arlo warned. “I’m so close. I can’t stop myself. You feel too fucking good.”
Dimitri didn’t stop, didn’t even slow his movements. Heat sparked along Arlo’s spine, his orgasm barreling towards him like a bullet train until his breath punched from him and he flooded Dimitri’s mouth. Dimitri swallowed it down, nursing every drop from Arlo’s cock until he hissed, his body too sensitive.
Even after Dimitri pulled off, he didn’t stand. He just pressed his forehead to Arlo’s hipbone, working himself with purpose, before he bit down on the fleshy part of Arlo’s hip, his body going rigid as he spilled his release onto the pile of clothes and the concrete floor below.
After a minute, he stood, walking Arlo backwards into the shower stall and under the scalding water before capturing his mouth in a filthy kiss that left Arlo sucking the taste of himself off Dimitri’s tongue. They continued to kiss as they soaped each other, Dimitri’s fingers lingering between the cleft of Arlo’s ass for much longer than necessary. Not that he was complaining.
When the water cooled, Dimitri turned it off, taking the single oversized white towel from the rack and drying first Arlo, then himself. Arlo wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected as far as spare clothes went, but it wasn’t the fitted black pants, graphic tee, and cardigan that sat outside the door. They were a little snug but not so much that Arlo would complain about it.
Adam had been right. His clothes were couture. The jeans Dimitri dawned were Armani, the hoodie Chanel. He looked exceptionally good.Sogood that, for a moment, Arlo forgot about the dead body in the trunk or that he’d killed somebody. No, not just somebody. A fucking federal judge’s son.
“Hey, don’t get too in your head about this,” Dimitri said. “We’re going to be okay.”
