“It won’t hurt you,” Somerset promised. “Iwon’t hurt you.”
The words slipped out of him without him paying attention. When he caught what he’d just said, he hesitated. That was something he’d never promised anyone before, had never considered it. He came with the threat of violence the way Santa came… had come… with gifts.
Now he’d signed that particular tool away for some pretty, short mortal. And for what? Dylan hadn’t even tried to negotiate their coupling. He was going to let Somerset fuck him without any deal or conditions.
Before he could chase whatever had gotten into him, Dylan whimpered and tightened his ass around Somerset’s fingers.
“Please?” he asked. “I want you in me.”
Maybe he could figure out why he’d said that later, Somerset decided as his focus narrowed back in on the ass under his fingers and the neck under his hand. He folded his lower lip between his teeth and tightened his grip on the nape of Dylan’s neck. Red stains bloomed where he squeezed, livid against pale skin. They’d darken to bruises later. Dylan whimpered at the pinch and clenched his hands around the edge of the bar.
It didn’t count as ‘hurt’ if he enjoyed it.
‘Want’ wasn’t good enough. Neither was ‘ask.’
Somerset wanted him to beg. He fucked Dylan with his fingers, slow deep strokes, and spread him wide. Dylan pushed back into each stroke, sweat wet as it coated his back. His cock thrust futilely in the air, drops of come suspended on the flushed, rock-hard head of it.
“Fuck,” Dylan ground out. “God.Please?”
That was closer.
Somerset pulled Dylan up, off the bar, and back. He took his hand off Dylan’s neck and hooked his arm over his shoulder instead. While he roughly fucked Dylan up onto his toes with one hand, he ran the other down his chest and across the taut ridges of his abdomen.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dylan gasped. He groped backward and grabbed hold of Somerset’s shoulder. “I want you to touch me. Please touch me.”
Somerset didn’t. Not in the way Dylan wanted. He just grazed calloused fingers over Dylan’s stomach and down to grip the knobby jut of his hipbone. Dylan’s fingernails dug into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked against Dylan’s ear.
Dylan made a ragged noise, words caught in his throat between his whimpers, and nodded emphatically.
“Say it,” Somerset coaxed. “I want to hear it.”
It took a second for Dylan to gather the words together. “Fuck me,” he finally managed. “I need you to fuck me, Somerset. Please.”
That was it. ‘Need,’ that was what Somerset wanted to hear.
Somerset slid his fingers out of Dylan and unbuttoned his own jeans. He left them to hang off his lean hips as he walked Dylan backward with him to one of the chairs that had survived the fight the night before. He lowered them both onto it, Dylan sprawled back in his lap.
“Then fuck me,” he told Dylan as he pressed a sharp, wet kiss against the crook of his neck. “If that’s what you want.”
Dylan squirmed in his lap and his lean ass ground against Somerset’s erection. “But—” he whined as he twisted around to try and catch Somerset’s mouth with his.
Somerset caught his chin in one hand and tilted his head back. He dropped a quick, hard kiss on Dylan’s mouth, savoring the whiskey-warmth of it.
“It’s been a long day,” he said. “You get to do some of the work.”
Dylan swore at him. Then he reached back and grabbed Somerset’s cock with warm, soft fingers. Pleasure slid like honey through Somerset’s veins, lazy and slow. His breath caught in his throat withwant,and he had to force himself to stay sprawled back in the chair.
He gripped the edge of the seat with both hands to keep them from wandering.
His cock stood up eagerly from his open fly, thick and solid, with the foreskin already peeled back from the tender, pink head. Drops of precum smeared over Dylan’s warm-to-the-touch fingers as he ran them along the length of it.
The muscles in Somerset’s thighs tensed. He took a shaky breath through his teeth as he felt the easy, honeyed heat of lust get stickier, thicker under his skin. It clogged up his chest, shortening his breath, and settled in his balls. It felt strange, heavy, and liquid at the same time.
Dylan squirmed around until he’d lined up his ass with Somerset’s cock. Then, hand still wrapped around the shaft to hold it in place, he lowered himself onto it. Despite the slick of mead and mistletoe on his hole, it still had to stretch more to fit. Somerset’s cock bulged at the pressure on it, and Dylan hitched in a quick, ragged breath. He shifted his feet on the ground and tried again.
