The sound he made vibrated through both of us. His hands tightened on my back, pulling me deeper, and I sucked harder. I wanted to leave a mark. I wanted him to see it tomorrow and remember this, remember me, remember what it was like when I let myself be something other than sharp edges and control.
"Joel." His voice was breathless. "Don't stop."
I kept my mouth on his throat, licking and sucking at the tender skin while I moved inside him. His hips rolled up to meet every stroke and his cock was trapped between our stomachs, slick with pre-cum. His body tightened around me, and his breathing went ragged, and I knew he was close.
I lifted my head just enough to see his face. His eyes were half-closed, his lips swollen, his cheeks flushed. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his cock, stroking him in time with my hips.
"Joel... fuck," he gasped.
My own orgasm was building at the base of my spine, but I held it back, focused on the way his face was changing, the way his body was starting to shake.
He came with my name on his lips, spilling over my fist and onto his stomach. His muscles clenched around me so tight I couldn't breathe, and I worked him through it until he whimpered from the overstimulation.
I buried myself deep, and the orgasm washed through me. I groaned against his throat as I spilled into him, kept rocking until there was nothing left.
I collapsed on top of him. His arms came around me and held me there, his chest heaving under mine.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded against his neck. My voice wouldn't come. There was something lodged in my throat, something that might have been a sob if I let it out, and I swallowed hard against it.
His hand came up to stroke my hair. My breathing slowed, my body going heavy against him.
I should pull out. Clean up. Rebuild the distance between us.
I didn't move. I didn't want to.
His hand kept moving through my hair and my eyes closed. I was still inside him, my face pressed against his throat, and I fell asleep before I could stop myself.
I woke to gray light and Red's hand on my shoulder.
"Joel." His voice was tight. "Joel, wake up."
The room came into focus slowly. Red's apartment. Red's bed. He was already up and out of reach.
"What's wrong?"
He didn't answer. He was standing by the mirror on the back of his closet door, twisting to see his neck in the dim morning light.
I sat up and my stomach dropped when I saw the dark purple hickey on his throat.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He spun around and his eyes were wide, panicked in a way I'd never seen from him. "I have morning skate in two hours. I have to be in a locker room with twenty guys and they're all going to see this."
"You can say it's from a girl."
"It's on my neck, Joel." His voice cracked. "Right there where everyone can see. They're going to ask who. They're going to want details. And I don't have a girl, I've never had a girl here, and they're going to know I'm lying."
I got out of bed and crossed to him, reaching for his face. He stepped back.
"Don't." His jaw was tight. "Just don't."
"Red."
"I can't—" He pressed his hands against his eyes, and his shoulders were shaking. "You have to go. I need you to go."
The words hit like a fist to the chest. An hour ago he'd been stroking my hair while I fell asleep inside him. Now he couldn't even look at me.
I found my clothes. My hands were steady as I dressed, which surprised me. Something had gone numb, some part of me that knew how to shut down when staying open would hurt too much. I'd learned that trick young. I just hadn't needed it in a while.
