Page 34 of Deviant Need

He goes quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice sounds almost aggressive. “You’re not hooking up with anyone.”

My heart stutters. “What?”

“Nothing.” His arms lock tighter around me. “Don’t worry about it.”

I nod, and then my hand drifts down to cover his where it rests against my stomach. My fingers start tracing the veins on the back of his hand, following the raised lines slowly from his wrist up toward his knuckles. The skin is warm and slightly rough, from fighting and lifting weights. I trace each vein carefully, then move to his fingernails, running my fingertip along the edges before trailing back up again.

His breathing slows behind me, becoming deeper and more rhythmic. The rise and fall of his chest against my back turns steady and measured. A moment later his mouth parts and soft snores hit the back of my neck, warm breath ghosting across my skin in gentle pulses.

You’d need some sort of tranquilizer to get him to stay this still, like a strong one. Normally he’s restless even in sleep, twitching and shifting and mumbling.

So he probably took benzos after his shower. Makes sense. That combined with the weed and whatever binge he went on yesterday has left him exhausted, his body finally shutting down to recover.

The sun dips lower outside my window, casting everything in long shadows that stretch across the walls. Orange light filters through the curtains and paints the room in shades of amber and gold. I let my eyes drift shut.

When I come to again, everything’s dark. The sun has fully set, and the room is bathed in shadows, only the faint glow from the city filtering in through the window. His arms are still wrapped around me, grip just as tight as before, his lips pressed against the back of my head like he moved there in his sleep.

I adjust slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and he stirs behind me. His arms tighten reflexively, pulling me closer. “You’re still here?” His voice is rough and sleep-heavy, barely more than a murmur against my hair.

“Mm.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. His breathing is still heavy like he’s hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness, not fully awake but aware enough to know I’m there.

His mouth brushes my ear, warm breath ghosting across my skin, and my entire body locks up. I tilt my head back, chasing the contact. His lips skim across my jaw, missing my cheek entirely and brushing against my lips instead.

We freeze.

His breath stutters against my skin, and my heart slams so hard against my ribs I think it might crack them.

The air between us feels charged, electric. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to move, to close the gap, to stop pretending this isn’t what I want.

Then I turn in his arms, until we’re face to face in the darkness. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide they’ve nearly swallowed the blue completely. The streetlight from the window catches the edge of his face, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips are parted slightly.

His lips crash against mine out of nowhere, and everything in my head goes silent. It’s nothing like I imagined because it’s so much better, so much more intense that my entire body feels like it’s burning from the inside out.

I kiss him back frantically, clumsy and desperate, not knowing what I’m doing but needing it anyway. My hands find his shoulders, and I grip hard, nails digging into his skin like I’m trying to anchor myself to something solid. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, fingers spreading across my cheek, angling my head exactly how he wants it. I let him take control because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I don’t care. All I know is that I need more of this, more of him.

His tongue traces my bottom lip slowly, deliberately, and I part for him instantly. The first slide of his tongue against mine sends electricity straight down my spine and settles hot and heavy in my gut. He tastes sweet and something addictive that makes me want to crawl inside him and never leave. His tongue explores my mouth thoroughly, stroking against mine in a rhythm that makes my cock throb painfully in my boxers.

He deepens the kiss, threading his fingers through my hair and gripping tight. The sting makes me gasp, and he swallows the sound, kissing me harder, fiercer, like he’s trying to devour me. His tongue slides deeper, claiming every inch of my mouth, and I respond desperately, trying to give him everything. His other hand slides down my back to grip my hip, fingers digging into bone hard enough to bruise, and he drags me flush against him until there’s no space left between us.

The heat of his body pressed against mine is overwhelming. I can feel every muscle, every line of him, and my cock is so hard it’s painful. The friction of it rubbing against my boxers with every movement sends waves of sensation through me that border on too much. When I suck on his tongue experimentally, he makes this noise, halfway between a groan and a moan, and suddenly he’s rolling us.

My back hits the mattress and his weight settles on top of me, pinning me down completely. The pressure of his body covering mine, the feeling of being trapped beneath him, nearly makes me come right there in my pants. My hips jerk up involuntarily, grinding against him, and he groans into my mouth.

“Danya,” he breathes against my lips.

Hearing my name like that, in that voice, nearly undoes me completely. I drag him back into another kiss, messier this time. His tongue strokes against mine in deep, thorough sweeps that make my toes curl. Heat cascades through me with every movement, making my skin feel too tight, making me ache in ways I’ve never ached before.

He starts grinding against me, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm that matches the slide of his tongue in my mouth. The pressure on my cock is overwhelming, the friction almost too much. I’m so hard it hurts, leaking steadily into my boxers, and every roll of his hips pushes me closer to the edge. His hand tightens in my hair, tugging my head back to change the angle, and he kisses me so deep I forget where I end and he begins.

I can’t get enough of him. When he sucks on my tongue, I moan into his mouth, the sound desperate and needy, and my hips buck up against him hard.

The heat pooling low in my belly spreads outward until my entire body feels like it’s burning. Every movement of his tongue against mine, every roll of his hips, every sound he makes goes straight to my cock and makes me throb. My boxers are soaked, the fabric clinging to me uncomfortably, and I’m so close to coming just from this, just from kissing him and feeling his weight on top of me.

We’re breathing hard, gasping for air between kisses but unable to stop long enough to actually get it. His mouth is incredible, warm and demanding and taking everything I’m giving him and asking for more.

Then he slows. His kisses turn softer, lazier, his tongue stroking against mine in gentle sweeps instead of desperate claims. He pulls back slightly and rests his forehead against mine, both of us are panting, our breath mingling in the small space between us. I can feel his heart racing as fast as my own.