“How do I make you feel?” he asked again, teasing with his dick.
“Seen.”
Beckett tipped his hips and entered Rhys slowly. Rhys’s eyes flew open, scanning Beckett’s face and Beckett fed him inch by agonizing inch until he was fully seated with his balls pressed hot and heavy against Rhys’s body.
“I do see you,” he admitted, almost wishing he didn’t.
It was no small thing to understand and to know a man like Rhys, and Beckett got the impression that, save for Sebastian, no one did. He wondered even if Sebastian did, or if he only knew the older brother he’d had his whole life, not the man Rhys really was. Not the man he wanted to be. Beckett also understood that knowing Rhys, or rather, being allowed to know him, to see him…it was a gift.
It was such a gift.
And no amount of money would ever balance that out.
For all his missteps and misgivings, in spite of or maybe because of the way he saw the world, Rhys was unlike any man Beckett had ever met before, and even though he’d just said that he hadn’t been in love before….
Well, that hadn’t been a lie, because maybe he wasn’t in love then, but he surely was now.
“Please move,” Rhys begged. He released the sheets and raised his left hand around the back of Beckett’s neck, tugging him down and pressing their mouths together. Not quite a kiss, but a moment.
Beckett eased his hips back and pumped forward again, relishing the way Rhys’s body stretched to accommodate him. Rhys jerked himself off while Beckett slid in and out and in and out. It became hard to see, hard to breathe, and sweat stung his eyes as it dripped off his lashes and down his face. He could tell his orgasm was building. It was something big and unmanageable that threatened to explode out of his chest if he didn’t get it under control.
But Rhys nibbled at his lower lip, then his chin, his throat. He licked up Beckett’s jawline to his ear and moaned. The way Rhys moaned into this ear… all of the want and desperation and need fizzled into nothing and then everything.
“Oh, shit.” Beckett fell forward, planting a hand beside Rhys’s head in the pristine white sheets. His body moved on its own, hips snapping madly as he came. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Fuck.”
“I’m coming.” Rhys followed after him, his nails gouging into the small of Beckett’s back, scrabbling against his sweaty skin as if to pull him deeper. “Beckett. Beck… I’m. Oh, God.”
Beckett’s vision went white and his body bowed as his cock spurted ribbons of hot cum into the condom. His dick swelled and pulsed in time with the heartbeat that rang out through his ears. Between them, Rhys’s cock spasmed, shooting jets of cum up to the top of his chest, the dip of his throat. Even his chin.
Beckett groaned, licking a thick white stripe of cum from Rhys’s face, then he moved down lower, using his mouth to clean up the evidence of Rhys’s orgasm. Beckett’s muscles were weak, but Rhys’s entire body trembled, shaking as Beckett’s wet tongue glided over the path his cum had taken until he got so low he had to pull his cock out to keep going.
Rhys whined, but Beckett closed his mouth around Rhys’s dick, sucking every drop out of his balls. He didn't stop until Rhys writhed so dramatically the sheets pulled up and off the bed. Beckett let his mouth move away, resting his head on the top of Rhys’s thigh to catch his breath.
“Rhys,” he whispered after he caught his breath, the other man’s taste still fresh on his tongue.
Rhys tugged the ends of his hair, and Beckett managed to crawl up the bed until they were closer to eye level. Rhys looked well and properly fucked, which filled him with another surge of power. It was a heady and dangerous feeling. He needed to get it under control. But Rhys patted his chest and gave him a weak smile, and that had him feeling big and bold all over again.
“I’m not seeing anyone other than you,” Rhys said, his voice hoarse from use. “And I’d like if you didn’t see anyone other than me.”
Beckett laughed. He couldn’tnotlaugh, it was such an unexpected, yet perfectly Rhys thing to say in a moment like that. Rhys had found something he wanted, and he immediately moved to secure it. It was who Rhys was, at his core.
“There’s only you,” he promised.
“I’m serious.” Rhys flexed his fingers against Beckett’s chest and turned his head to the side. Beckett couldn’t blame him for trying to get away. Everything happening felt painfully relevant and imperative in a way he couldn’t put words to.
“I’m serious about you too, Rhys.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
RHYS IS A BOYFRIEND
Beckett smelled like sex.
Rhys buried his face in Beckett’s hair and closed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep, but the light coming in through the window on the other side of the room was too glaring.
“Are you awake?” Beckett mumbled, shoving his face into Rhys’s armpit and snuggling closer.
“No.”
