I won’t.
He kisses my neck, whispering, “I love you,” over and over, like a mantra. Like it’s the only thing worth knowing, here at the end of time. “I love you,” like those are the words he wants on his lips when he dies. “I love you,” like a final prayer.
His fingers caress my arms, a hard press of flesh, imprinting my body on his. Another kiss, a lip-locked shove, and he has me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the cool surface biting into me on one side, the heat of his skin sending shivers through me to meet in the middle. His hands slide down to my towel. He loosens it, drops it to the floor, and takes my hard cock in hand.
My head thumps back against the glass as he strokes me. My hands run down his chest, meeting in the centre of his abdomen, pausing with the scintillating touch of his flesh to mine.
It’s happening again and already. From my curling toes, through the arches of my feet on soft carpet, through mytrembling calves and thighs, that indescribable pleasure that comes only from August rises, volcanic.
His tongue’s as hungry for mine as if it were wrapped around my cock. But he’s taking his time with me. What precious little time we have left, it’s all for me.
His kisses come loving, his skin against mine like he’d fuse us together. He works my cock with an easy motion. He knows from my sighs, from the way my fingertips rip at him, he could finish me in seconds if he wanted to. He eases off, strokes me so lightly I’m at his mercy, not at all above begging him. Then he wraps me tight again, working me so I fall on his shoulder, barely able to support myself.
“August,” he whispers, and it’s just to say our name. Just to hear it. I find his lips, press a wrecked kiss there, let my head fall back against the glass, moans slipping out of me. His heated gaze submerges me. He loves watching me get off. And I love him watching me. I stare into his dark eyes, and I press my dick forward into his palm.
A bright flash reflects in his glasses.
His eyes raise slowly to the lightning outside. “It’s happening, Slayer.”
“Don’t stop.” I drape my arm around his neck, pulling him to me, my chest rising with every deep and desperate breath. The room turns pink, as if we’re beneath another of those enormous billboards, only it’s softer.
“It’s you,” he whispers. “Look what you’re doing.”
He takes an arm around me, turns me, and in a second my hands are pushed against the glass, his one hand still on my dick, reaching around to stroke me while he sinks his teeth into my shoulder from behind.
“August,” I cry out, and the sky flashes purple, like sheet lightning behind clouds, only there is none.
“You’re doing it,” he rasps.
His thigh presses against the side of mine, and I hear the lid flip on the lubricant. He stops touching my dick for a heartbeat, and it makes me press back to him hungrily, the feeling of his own hard and wet cock against my ass sending me crazy. “Fuck me.”
“Patience, Slayer.”
But I don’t need any. His arm closes around my neck, wrenching me back firmly against his chest. His fingers slide down between the curves of my ass, and he’s using me again, like he did only hours ago. I’m still reeling from it, but this time, I need his cock. Ineedhim to fuck me. “Don’t stop,” I beg him, and not even for the sake of the universe.
“Not for anything,” he growls.
He slides his fingers into me, holding me so tight at the neck my breath comes ragged. His teeth sink into my earlobe, and my cock hits the glass when my body thrusts forward of its own accord. The sky pulses yellow, the air pulses yellow, all things illuminating as if the very oxygen molecules had hidden light within.
I ride his hand, calling his name, losing myself to his touch. I could come so easily right now. I shut my eyes, trying to think of things that aren’t sex.
I can’t come. Not yet.
I can’t.
“August,” he whispers. “I want you.”
“Please. Please.” My hands on the glass turn it opaque where heat meets cold.
“Brace.”
Oh fuck.
Was a single hotter word ever spoken?
I stretch my arms up, engage the muscles I know he’s drinking in with every kiss on my shoulder.
His fingers slide out, but before I can miss them, I feel him. He’s so wonderfully big, so perfectly hard. He enters me slowly.
