I kick the door closed with my heel. The click reverberates in my chest.
“She’s the reason I haven’t brought anyone here,” I confess like it’s a sin.
Linus steps between my legs. “Yet, here I am. So, you’re into me?”
I don’t answer.
He tilts my chin up with two fingers. “No?”
“You’re… different.”
Linus doesn’t ask how. Doesn’t need to. He kisses me, unhurried, mouth parted, tongue tracing the edge of mine. His hands cup my jaw, then slide through my hair. I grip his hips, drag him close.
When we part, we’re both out of breath.
He pulls off his hoodie, then the shirt beneath. His chest is solid, dusted with dark hair, tattoos inked across his biceps and ribs. Designs I plan to trace with my tongue. His belt clicks open. He strips down to briefs and waits, watching.
I undress methodically to let him take me in. His eyes roam my body like he’s cataloging every inch. I’m as rigid as a steel pole.
He’s hard, too. Impressively so.
We move at the same time.
His mouth finds mine again, more urgent now, all heat and want. I push him onto the bed, climb over him. His thighs part for me without hesitation. I kiss his throat, the hollow of his collarbone, the line of muscle down his chest. I drag my tongue over his nipple, then bite lightly.
“Fuck—Liam.” He fists the sheets.
I look up. “You good?”
“Aye.” His hand threads through my hair. “Don’t stop.”
I quirk a brow then drag my mouth lower, lave him through the fabric of his boxer briefs until he’s panting. I hook my fingers in the waistband and pull them down. His phenomenal cock springs free. Thick, long. Dark at the head. I wrap my hand around the base, stroke once, then lick a line up the underside.
HIs deep, guttural grown reverberates through my bedroom.
I take him in my mouth, inch by inch, until my nose brushes the hair at his base. I hold there, swallowing around him.
His whole body tenses. “Christ.”
I set a rhythm. One hand stroking what I can’t fit, the other sliding up his torso, feeling every breath. His hands roam my back, then grip my ass, pulling me closer.
“Wanna taste me on you,” he wheezes hoarsely.
I ease off him with a wet pop and crawl up his body. He flips me without warning, straddles me, mouth crashing to mine. His hips grind against me, causing our cocks to rub together. He licks into my mouth like he owns it. Like he’s marking territory. Within moments, we’re a jumble of sweat and hunger, hips grinding in sync.
Linus curls his fist around both our cocks, knuckles grazing my stomach with every stroke. There’s no lube. Only my spit and our pre-come making it lubricated enough to slide. Messy enough to make me lose my mind.
The friction’s perfect. Rough and real. Skin dragging over skin. He frots us faster, hand working us like he knows the edge and wants us teetering on it together.
“Fuck,” I wheeze “I’m gonna—”
“Come with me.” He nibbles my chin.
We do. One brutal, blinding second and we’re both spilling into his fist, our come mixing, hot and thick, smearing over each other’s skin.
It’s lascivious. Intimate.Ours.
Linus keeps stroking us through it, softening the pressure.
