Danny’s thighs trembled where they pressed against Easton’s. His whole body felt alive and aching and fragile in the best way.
“I want you to take me apart,” he whispered. “But I want you to see me too. All of me.”
“I do.” Easton kissed him again, this time with a slow burn that promised more. “And I will.”
Chapter Fourteen
Easton’s kiss lingered as he shifted, easing Darian back with a steady palm to his chest. The bed below them dipped as Easton guided him down, never breaking the kiss, just changing the angle until Darian’s back hit the cool sheets and a jolt ran through him.
Easton loomed above, his hands finding the hem of Darian’s shirt and pushing it up with no-nonsense movements. “Arms up, boy.”
Darian obeyed instantly, the command shooting straight through him like a current. The shirt vanished, and Easton raked his eyes over him, slow and deliberate.
“God, look at you,” Easton murmured. “Already flushed. You really are a sight when you let go.”
Heat bloomed in Darian’s chest as pleasure and embarrassment tangled together. His skin prickled as Easton bent down and pressed a kiss just above his navel, then another lower, nuzzling at the crease where his thigh met his pelvis.
Easton’s hands were everywhere but where Darian wanted them. A slow sweep across his ribs, fingers dipping into the soft space above his hip that made him jolt. A teasing graze along the curve of his spine, his skin tightening in anticipation. WhenEaston’s mouth found the notch of his neck where nerve endings gathered and sparked, Darian shivered, and his toes curled against the sheet.
He tilted his pelvis, silently begging for more direct attention, but Easton just hummed against his throat and kept mapping his body like a puzzle to be solved, savoring each reaction. Every touch was deliberate and calculated, denying and promising all at once.
And still, he never touched his cock.
Darian’s breath came in uneven puffs, his hips arching in search of friction, but Easton just chuckled low in his throat, his warm breath fanning over Darian’s damp skin.
Just as frustration reached a fever pitch, Danny’s cock heavy and leaking, and his thighs tense with need, Easton stood. The sudden absence of touch sent a pang of loss through Darian’s chest, but his frustration was quickly replaced by anticipation.
Easton peeled his own shirt over his head in one fluid motion, revealing golden skin dusted with just the right amount of hair, and broad shoulders. Darian’s breath caught. Every inch exposed felt like a gift, slowly unwrapped just for him. The defined slope of Easton’s chest, the dip at his waist, the faint trail that disappeared into the waistband of his slacks. The sight of it made heat coil in Darian’s belly.
Buttons popped free, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. The movement was so slow and unhurried, he was sure Easton wanted him to feel every second of it. Darian’s mouth went dry. The pants slid down muscled thighs, revealing boxers that barely concealed what was beneath. His heart pounded as the fabric stretched, then gave way, Easton stepping out of the last barrier with casual confidence.
Darian’s gaze roamed freely now. He felt no longer shy and was no longer held back by fear or uncertainty. The air whooshed out of his lungs. Easton was… breathtaking. Eastonwas all hard lines and deep shadows, his body marked by time and strength. He had muscled arms, and a dusting of salt-and-pepper hair across his chest. His defined stomach tensed as he moved. His cock jutted forward, thick and heavy, framed by coarse curls. Strong, thick thighs, long legs, and a heavy cock curved toward his navel, flushed at the tip. His balls hung low and full, and Darian’s tongue ached with the desire to taste. To serve.
Need pulsed in his spine, his cock twitching in sympathy. He was dizzy with the desire humming beneath his skin like electricity, every nerve lit and reaching. He didn’t look away. Couldn’t.
Easton caught his gaze and smiled, like he knew exactly the effect he was having. “You keep looking at me like that,” Easton drawled, one brow lifting, “and I might forget all about that plug.”
Darian’s belly fluttered.
Easton grabbed the lube from the nightstand and knelt on the bed between his thighs. “Roll over. On your stomach. Let’s loosen you up, baby.”
Darian obeyed, the sheets soft against his chest. He moaned low in his throat as strong hands kneaded the backs of his thighs, spreading them open. The click of the lube cap sent a fresh tremor through him.
Cool slick fingers circled his hole.
Despite expecting the touch, Darian jolted, and the sudden chill against overheated skin made him gasp. His muscles clenched before he could stop them. He wasn’t resisting, but he reacted from sheer anticipation. His body was strung tight, nerves lit like live wires, bracing not out of fear but because he wanted it too much. Every breath caught, every beat pounded with the need to be filled, claimed, and stretched.
Easton didn’t push. He just stilled, using his other hand to stroke Darian’s back and bottom, as if he was saying, “You can do what you want, I will just wait until I can do what I want.” That alone made Darian’s chest tighten. Not from anxiety, but with gratitude. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until it whooshed out of him in a slow, shaking exhale.
“I’m okay,” he whispered, barely more than a breath. “I want this.”
The tip of Easton’s finger remained, patient and present. Darian closed his eyes and turned inward, focusing on relaxing one muscle at a time. Jaw, shoulders, thighs. Letting his hips soften into the mattress. Letting trust overtake tension.
The next breath went deeper. This time, when Easton circled again, Darian didn’t flinch. He imagined the slick glide as permission and not invasion. He was opening, not yielding.
The press of the fingertip grew firmer, teasing the entrance with slow, steady intent. Darian shivered. The sensation was sharp. Something in him had been waiting for this specific kind of closeness. For the way it demanded awareness of his own body and Easton’s touch at the same time.
Another breath. Another beat of his heart.
