Landen worked him with agonizing slowness. His tongue dragged up from the base to the tip, flat and wet, pressing against the sensitive underside like he was tasting him, savoring him. When he reached the head, his lips closed around it, soft and tight, and he sucked gently, just enough to make Adriel’s breath catch, just enough to make his hips twitch against the hand still pinning him to the mattress.
Then his tongue circled the head, tracing the ridge like he was mapping it with his mouth.
Adriel’s fingers clawed at the sheets. “Landen…”
Landen’s eyes flicked up. He held Adriel’s gaze as his tongue moved, as his lips parted and he took him deeper, inch by inch, until his mouth was full and his nose brushed the soft hair at the base. He swallowed around him, a reflexive muscle movement that made Adriel see stars, and then he pulled back just as slowly, letting his lips drag along the shaft, letting the suction linger, letting every nerve ending in Adriel’s cock scream at the loss.
Before Adriel could catch his breath, Landen’s mouth descended again.
This time his hand joined the rhythm; wrapped around the base, gripping tight, twisting in counterpoint to the movement of his lips. He worked them together, mouth and hand, a relentless, coordinated assault that had Adriel’s thighs trembling within minutes.
Landen knew his body by now. Knew that the spot just below the head made his breath stutter. Knew that suction combined with the twist of his hand made his hips chase. Knew that the low hum he vibrated against Adriel’s skin travelled straight to his spine and lit him up like a live wire.
Adriel’s hands flew to his hair without conscious thought. The sounds coming out of him were broken, wordless, punched from his chest with each pass of Landen’s tongue.
He was close. He could feel it building, that tightening coil at the base of his spine, the pressure behind his balls, the way his whole body was starting to clench and strain toward release. His hips were fighting Landen’s restraining hand now, trying to fuck up into that wet heat, trying to chase it.
Landen doubled down. His mouth moved faster, his hand twisted harder, his tongue flicked against the head with everypass, and Adriel was there, right there, on the edge, his whole body drawn taut as a bowstring…
And then Landen stopped. Pulled off. Wrapped his hand around the base of Adriel’s cock and squeezed, just enough to pull him back from the edge.
Adriel sobbed, a broken, wrecked sound, his hips chasing nothing, his cock throbbing and desperate, leaking against his stomach. The denial hit him like a physical blow, the pleasure receding instead of cresting, leaving him shaking and empty and aching.
“Not yet,” Landen said, voice low and rough.
Adriel whimpered. He already knew what this meant. His body knew, already bracing and aching for it in equal measure.
Landen reached for the lube on the nightstand without hurry.
The first finger was gentle. Landen’s hand, slick and warm, pressed against him while his mouth returned to Adriel’s cock; licking, long lazy strokes that kept him hard but didn’t push him anywhere near the edge. The finger circled his entrance, pressed, slid inside.
Adriel gasped around the intrusion. It was familiar by now, the stretch, the burn, but every time it felt like the first time; intimate and exposing and overwhelming. Landen’s finger moved slowly, crooking, searching, while his tongue traced patterns on the sensitive head of his cock.
When he found what he was looking for, Adriel’s whole body jerked.
“There,” Landen murmured against his skin. “There it is.”
He pressed against that spot while his tongue worked the underside of Adriel’s cock, and Adriel was already climbing again, already rising toward that peak, his body so sensitive, so desperate, so completely at Landen’s mercy.
He got close. His breathing sped up, his hips started to move, the sounds escaping him pitched higher…
Landen’s mouth lifted away. His finger stilled.
Adriel made a sound of pure frustration. “Please…”
“Shh.” Landen’s finger started moving again, slowly, while his free hand wrapped around Adriel’s shaft and stroked him with infuriating laziness. “Not yet.”
The second finger came next. The stretch was deeper, fuller, and Landen worked them both inside him, scissoring, opening him up, while his hand kept stroking and his mouth pressed kisses to the inside of Adriel’s thighs. He was everywhere, inside him, around him, on him, and Adriel couldn’t focus, couldn’t think.
He climbed again. Faster this time. His body was learning the rhythm, learning to chase it, and he could feel himself hurtling toward that edge, could feel the wave building…
Landen’s fingers curled against his prostate. His mouth closed over the head of his cock. Adriel was going to come, he was going to come right now, he couldn’t stop it…
And then Landen stopped.
Adriel sobbed. Actually sobbed, his whole body shaking, his cock leaking onto his stomach, his hole clenching around nothing. The denial that time was almost unbearable. He was so close, so desperately close, and Landen kept pulling him back, keptrefusing him, kept him hanging on that knife’s edge without release.
“I can’t,” he gasped. “Landen, I can’t…”
