I lean over him, pressing against his back, and bite down on his shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin—I don't want to re-mark him when the first one is still healing—but hard enoughto make him gasp, hard enough to remind him who he belongs to.
"Mine," I growl against his skin.
"Yours, always yours—"
I reach around and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts. He's leaking all over my fingers, so close I can feel it in the way he's clenching around me.
"Come for me," I tell him. "Come on my cock, let me feel it."
He does—spilling over my hand with a shout, his whole body shaking as he clenches down hard around me. The pressure tips me over the edge and I follow him, burying myself deep and coming with his name on my lips.
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us panting, my forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.
"Jesus Christ," he finally says.
"Yeah."
"We just had sex on your kitchen counter."
"Yeah."
"That's so unsanitary." But he's laughing, breathless and satisfied.
"I'll bleach it later."
I pull out carefully and we clean up with paper towels—not elegant, but functional. He leans against me while I hold him, both of us catching our breath, the coffee maker gurgling forgotten in the background.
"I really do have to go," he says eventually.
"I know."
"Vaughn's going to ask why I'm late."
"Tell him the truth."
"That my boyfriend fucked me on his kitchen counter?"
"That you were busy." I kiss his temple. "He doesn't need details."
Jason laughs and pulls away to find his clothes, scattered somewhere between the bedroom and the kitchen. I watch him dress—jeans, his shirt from yesterday, my jacket because he can't find his. It swallows him, too big in the shoulders, and a possessive thrill runs through me at the sight of him wearing my things.
"I'll bring it back," he says, catching me looking.
"Keep it. Looks better on you anyway."
He grins and kisses me one more time at the door, soft and sweet.
"Come back with me?" he asks. "You can hang out while I work. Watch me get all greasy and sweaty."
"Tempting." I cup his face, stroke my thumb across his cheekbone. "But not right now."
Uncertainty flickers across his face, there and gone. The fear that I'm pulling back.
"I'm going to call Robin," I say. "Catch up with him for a bit. Haven't had much brother time lately. Been too wrapped up in you."
The worry disappears, replaced by a soft smile. "That's good. He'd like that. He misses you, I think. Even though he'd never admit it."
"I'll come by later. For dinner?"
