“What do you want?” I asked, my hands finding his hips, his waist, the dip of his lower back. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want—” He hesitated, something vulnerable flickering across his face before he smoothed it away. “I want you to touch me. Everywhere. I want to feel it tomorrow.”
“I can do that.”
I flipped us, pressing him into the mattress, and kissed my way down his throat. He tilted his head back to give me access, a soft sigh escaping him. I found that spot behind his ear that made him shiver and lingered there, sucking gently, tasting the salt of his skin.
“Derek—”
“I’ve got you.” I kissed his collarbone, his chest, the space between his ribs where I could feel his heart pounding. “I’ve got you, snowdrop.”
He shuddered at the name.
I took my time working down his body—learning him, memorizing him. The sensitive spot on his left side that made him squirm. The way his breath hitched when I scraped my teeth over his hip bone. The soft trail of dark hair that led beneath his waistband.
I looked up at him, my fingers hooked in the elastic of his pants. “May I?”
“If you don’t, I might actually kill you.”
I laughed and tugged them down, his underwear with them, tossing both aside. His cock sprang free, flushed and hard, already leaking at the tip. I wrapped my hand around him and he let out a sound that went straight to my spine.
“Fuck, your hands—” He arched into my grip. “They’re so big.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“It’s an observation.” He gasped as I stroked him slowly, twisting my wrist. “A very favorable observation.”
I lowered my head and licked a stripe up the underside and his whole body jerked.
“Derek—”
I took him into my mouth, still moving with uncertainty but determined to figure it out. I paid attention to what made him moan, what made his fingers tighten in my hair, what made his hips stutter upward despite his efforts to hold still. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked and he let out a broken noise that sounded almost like a sob.
“Good,” he gasped. “So good. You’re so—fuck—you’re perfect.”
The praise washed over me and I took him deeper, relaxing my throat.
“Derek, wait,” he warned, his voice strained. “No. Stop.”
I pulled off immediately, my heart lurching. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I don’t want to come in your mouth.” He looked at me, his eyes dark and serious, his chest heaving. “I want you to fuck me. No—needyou to fuck me.”
30. Théo
He froze.
I watched the words land, watched them short circuit something in his brain. For a moment I thought I’d pushed too far, asked for too much too soon. Was this a step too gay for him? Was he about to bolt the way I always did?
Then he gave his head a little shake, like he was trying to shake his thoughts free.
“I don’t have... condoms. Or lube.”
I almost laughed. Sometimes I couldn’t believe how innocent he was in some ways. “I came prepared.”
I slid off the bed and crossed to the overnight bag I’d left in the corner of the bedroom earlier. My legs were unsteady—his mouth had nearly wrecked me—but I managed to fish out a box of condoms and a bottle of lube without collapsing.
I held them up, watching his face cycle through surprise, then want, then something that looked almost like nervousness.
