He wanted to do it again. He wanted to surrender himself to this man. Atticus didn’t know what to expect, but it didn’t matter. He trusted Slade, and that was rare for him. He trusted no one.
Then again, he’d also never loved anyone before, and while he wasn’t sure he believed it, Atticus was pretty sure he’d already fallen head over heels for this guy. It didn’t help that he felt the same about someone else.
As everyone always said when he was a kid, he didn’t do things the easy way.
***
Slade should’ve gone to bed.
He should’ve offered to take the couch because, at least that way, he wouldn’t have the option of giving in to his baser urges. Griffin had told him it was no hardship for him and Cal to sleep in the same bed. They were brothers. They’d done it plenty of times when they were kids, and it wouldn’t kill them for one night.
But no. Slade had gone and told him he didn’t mind, and he’d seen the glimmer of recognition in Griffin’s eyes. Slade hadn’t bothered to confirm or deny the silent question because he honestly didn’t know how to. Yeah, he wanted to fuck Atticus. Hell, he wanted it more than he wanted to take his next breath. But that wasn’t all he wanted. He wanted so much more. He wanted a lifetime with Atticus, and he didn’t mean simply for the physical gratification that would come with it. Truthfully, Slade wanted what Brantley and Reese had, what Trey and Magnus had. And he wanted it with Atticus.
He wasn’t disillusioned, though. He knew that another roll together wouldn’t change Atticus’s mind. Atticus was determined, and there was nothing Slade could do but sit back and watch it play out. Oh, and to hope that Carson would fuck shit up with him the way he did with Slade a long time ago.
But there was another option. One he hadn’t considered until they’d been sitting out on the balcony tonight.
He could take advantage of the opportunity to solidify himself in Atticus’s life. Carson wasn’t here, and Atticus still hadn’t seen him since he got back. But Slade was, and he had the chance to spend a few fleeting moments with the man, reminding him that what they had was spectacular. The sex … it was off the fucking charts. And if Slade had to use that to tie himself to Atticus, by God, he would.
Slade kept a firm grip on Atticus’s hand. Not only because he didn’t want him to change his mind but because he enjoyed touching him. It was the highlight of his day, albeit far too rare for his liking.
They made it to the bedroom, and as soon as they were inside, Slade closed the door, sealing them in. He flipped the lock for good measure, then turned to Atticus. He saw the same heat and anticipation as he did whenever their eyes met. But he also saw something else. Hesitance? Anxiety?
“Are you nervous?” Slade asked, stepping closer.
Atticus took a step back, holding his stare. “Yes.”
“Do I scare you?”
A hint of a smirk tilted the corner of Atticus’s mouth. “No.”
Slade liked that he wasn’t. Whatever this was between them, it took on a life of its own when they were together. Slade wasn’t into dominance and submission in the traditional sense, but he sure as fuck enjoyed dominating this man. Probably because he saw the heat in Atticus’s eyes churning when he became the aggressor.
“I want you so bad it hurts,” Slade admitted, pinning Atticus between his body and the wall.
He loved how Atticus immediately surrendered, tipping his head back, holding his gaze. He didn’t touch him. As though he was waiting for Slade to bark a command.
Slade didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the hem of Atticus’s T-shirt and lifted it, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. He slowly trailed his fingertips along Atticus’s shoulders, down his arms. He continued to hold Atticus’s gaze as he grabbed his wrists and lifted his hands above his head.
“This is what you need,” he told Atticus. “For me to take control.”
Atticus’s throat worked on a swallow.
“For me to own you.”
Atticus’s lips parted with a soft gasp.
Slade circled both of Atticus’s wrists with one hand and held him there while he used his free hand to unbutton Atticus’s jeans. He stared into Atticus’s eyes the entire time, watching every reaction. The way his breaths became choppier, his eyes glazed, his tongue darted out to lick his lip.
It took little effort to get Atticus’s jeans undone, shoving them down his hips so he could get to his cock. Slade stroked him slowly, gently, purposely holding back so he could build the anticipation.
Atticus gasped for air, his head hitting the wall with a thud as he leaned back, accepting only what Slade was willing to give him.
This was the perfect opportunity to drag the moment out, to convince Atticus that he was all he would ever need, but Slade couldn’t do it. He was overwhelmed with the need to be inside him, to drive his dick in deep, to feel the tight heat of Atticus’s ass envelope him. After the last time, he promised himself he would take things slow the next time, but he simply couldn’t. He needed him too fucking bad.
Releasing Atticus’s cock, Slade pulled him away from the wall, shoving him toward the bed. Atticus stumbled forward, his thighs shackled by his jeans. He planted his hands on the bed to keep himself from falling over. Slade took advantage, moving up behind him. He quickly unfastened his jeans, freeing his cock. He was so hard, his cock throbbing as his blood redirected. He couldn’t wait any longer.
Roughly, Slade put a hand in the center of Atticus’s back and forced him down to the mattress. He grabbed Atticus’s wrists and pulled his arms back.
