33
Simon
Desire. Rampant, electric, growing. Once, Simon had likened it to want—presumed that he’d understood its intricacies because need for Harlow had burned in his soul and made him want to touch, to feel, and to possess. But after last night, after baring the filth of his soul to Harlow without suffering the consequences, and after seeing the adoration in Harlow’s eyes at dinner, Simon knew better. He’d never conflate want and desire again.
Want was a greedy, demanding thing. It grew louder the longer it went unfulfilled, nagging, begging, pleading. It was crass and ugly, stripped of sophistication by the very nature of its being.
Desire was so much more.
Desire was a temptation, capturing his attention with sly winks and come-hither curls of its finger. It was as intense as want, but it was softer—kinder. Itseduced.And right now, it had Simon between its sheets, their bodies flush, their hearts aligned to the same beat.
There was no more sense in being shy—nothing left to hold him back. He’d indulge in desire—in Harlow—and he wouldn’t apologize for it anymore.
“Kid,” Harlow gasped when the kiss broke. “Oh, fuck…”
“You have to be quiet,” Simon whispered. Even as he scolded, he gyrated his hips, wanting to see Harlow lose control for him again. If his words had such power, what could he do if he used his body the right way? The thought was intoxicating. “If we’re too loud, someone will hear. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No.” Harlow was breathless, his voice thin with arousal. Simon shivered and tilted his head, kissing Harlow all over again. He had to hold his head at an awkward angle to avoid putting pressure on his nose, but the kink in his neck was worth it. Harlow, so strong and sure of himself, was melting for him. Forhim.For so long, circumstance had kept him powerless, but now, Simon had control, and it waswonderful.
“Then you need to keep it down,” Simon murmured when the kiss broke. He was thrilled when Harlow tried to chase his lips after he pulled away. “I want you. I want you right here, right now…” Simon leaned close, whispering into Harlow’s ear. “…and I’m wet for you already. I want you to put it inside me and come until you can’t come anymore.”
Harlow took a shuddering breath and threaded his fingers through Simon’s hair. He tugged, but what little pain there was bled instantly into pleasure. Rather than try to push into Harlow’s hand to minimize it, Simon tugged his head away, forcing Harlow to pull harder. The sharp sting shot straight to Simon’s groin, percolating, growing stronger by the second. He tugged his head again, hoping to recreate it, before Harlow caught on.
“You want this?” Harlow was the one to tug this time. Pain exploded behind Simon’s eyes, then mellowed into bliss. With a gasp, he bucked his hips, driving his hardening cock against Harlow’s abdomen. “You want me to be rough?”
Simon couldn’t find it in him to squeak out a “yes.” To answer, he struggled against Harlow, rewarding himself with pain.
“So dirty, Kid,” Harlow uttered. There was nothing civil about his tone anymore—he was as lost, driven to greed by Simon’s words and actions. A chill shot through Simon, burying itself in his balls. Harlow was committed to his pleasure, eager to do whatever Simon wanted, no matter what it was. How had he gotten so lucky? Harlow was a dream come to life. “So fuckin’ dirty. You want my cock inside you?”
Yes.Yes.
Simon pushed away from him, feigning like he wanted to escape, only for Harlow to tug his hair again. A punishment. A reminder of where he belonged.
With a hiss, Simon sank his fingers into Harlow’s shirt, too turned on to reply. How rough would Harlow get with him? Simon wanted more. He wanted those strong arms to hold him down, to pin him, to put pressure on his throat, to make him see spots…
“You want my cum?” Harlow jerked Simon’s head to the side by the hair, not hard enough to cause any injury to his neck or scalp, but with enough force that Simon smarted. Distracted from his chain of thoughts, Simon focused on the physical—the prickling pain on his scalp, the strain put on his neck, and the heaviness of the cock now tenting his boxer-briefs. “You want it inside? You want me to put it deep?”
Harlow’s tongue ran along the curve of Simon’s ear. When he spoke, every word was whispered against Simon’s lobe, and when there was nothing left to say, Harlow dragged the soft skin there between his teeth. Simon was sure that they’d stay like that until Harlow rolled them over and took Simon missionary style, but it seemed that the predictable wasn’t what Harlow had in mind tonight. He nipped Simon’s ear one last time, then tugged him from the couch. Simon, scrambling to get his feet beneath him, gasped and grabbed onto the couch’s arm. While he caught his breath, Harlow’s hands found his hips and teased down his boxer-briefs, leaving him bare.
“If you want it that bad…” Harlow moved. In the dark, Simon couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but he heard fabric rustle. “Then prove it.”
Harlow tugged him back onto the couch, this time so Simon straddled his lap. Harlow’s uncovered cock slid between Simon’s cheeks, wet from the lubricant he’d applied after his shower in anticipation of this moment. “Put it inside yourself and fuck it out of me. I heard how dirty your mind is last night… now I want to see it in action.”
The breath caught in Simon’s throat. He looked at Harlow through the dark, but his features were obscured. All he had to go off was his tone of voice—dark, demanding, drenched in yearning.
Simon couldn’t say no.
He lifted himself enough to fit his hand between their bodies, grasping Harlow’s length, then directed it to fit against his hole. Trembling, Simon sank down, taking the tip. Even that felt like too much—his body protested the intrusion, stretching to accommodate Harlow’s girth.
“Take it, baby,” Harlow cooed, his voice dark and low. “Put it all inside. I wanna see you fit it all in. Wanna feel you stretch.”
Simon shuddered. Mouth agape, he wiggled his hips and sank lower, until the underside of Harlow’s tip popped in behind his ring. Taking tiny, panted breaths, he worked it deeper a little bit at a time, training his body to take Harlow’s girth—wanting it. In reward, Harlow moaned in secretive, sinful, subdued ways.
Their secret. Their dirty little secret.
All for him. Allbecauseof him.
“Want you,” Simon gasped. He pushed Harlow’s cock deeper, craving to feel just how deep he would go, and just how much he’d stretch. “Want you. Want you sofuckingbad. Come inside me. Knock me up. I’m so fucking filthy for you… your perfect little boy.”
