Page 112 of The Associate
He followed him down, covering Samuel’s body with his own, and took his mouth again. This kiss was slower, deeper. Hishands roamed freely. He slid his palms over the smooth skin of Samuel’s shoulders, down the sides of his ribs, relishing the little shivers that followed in their wake. He dragged his lips from Samuel’s mouth, down the line of his jaw, to the frantic, hammering pulse at the base of his throat. He sucked there, hard, sure to leave a mark that would linger for days.
Samuel whimpered, a high, thin sound, and his back arched off the bed, pressing his chest more firmly against Gael’s.
Gael moved lower. He kissed a wet, open-mouthed trail down the center of Samuel’s chest. He paused at one nipple, swirling his tongue around the tight bud before drawing it into his mouth, sucking firmly. Samuel cried out, a sharp, breathy gasp, his fingers tangling in Gael’s hair. The sensation, the taste, the sound; it was all fuel. Gael continued his descent, kissing down the quivering plane of Samuel’s stomach, his tongue dipping into the shallow hollow of his navel.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of Samuel’s trousers and the briefs beneath. In one rough motion, he pulled them both down and off, tossing them over the side of the bed.
Samuel lay completely bare before him, sprawled across the dark duvet like an offering. He was flushed from his chest to the roots of his hair, his body trembling with fine tremors. His cock was fully hard, a beautiful, flushed curve against his stomach, the head glistening. Gael looked at him, at the complete and utter surrender in every line of his body, and the fire in his blood burned white-hot. The sight was a brand on his soul.
He lowered his head.
He took Samuel into his mouth, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth motion. Samuel cried out, a shattered, beautiful sound that echoed in the quiet room, and his hipsjerked off the bed involuntarily. Gael held him there, deep in his throat, humming low, the vibration making Samuel sob. Then he began to move, establishing a slow, relentless rhythm with his mouth and tongue.
One hand came up to cup Samuel’s balls, rolling the heavy weight gently. Then he let a finger trail lower, through the \ cleft, pressing tentatively against the tight, hidden furl of muscle there. Samuel jolted as if electrocuted, a shocked, wanton noise tearing from his throat.
“Gael… please…”
The broken plea, raw with need, undid the last of Gael’s control. He released Samuel’s cock with a wet, obscene pop and reared back on his knees, his own breathing ragged. He yanked open the nightstand drawer, his usually calm fingers fumbling clumsily until they closed around the familiar bottle of lubricant. He slicked his fingers, the cool gel a stark contrast to the feverish heat of his skin, and returned to Samuel.
He kissed him again, deep and consuming, as his slicked fingers found their way back. He circled that tight entrance again, applying more pressure now, then pressed one finger slowly inside.
Samuel gasped into his mouth, his entire body tensing, a wall of muscle clenching around the intrusion. Gael stilled, letting him adjust, murmuring ragged, nonsensical words against his lips. “Easy… just breathe… for me. That’s it.”
He waited, kissing him softly, until the fierce tension began to bleed away, until Samuel’s body softened and accepted him. Only then did he begin to move his finger in a slow, careful rhythm, a gentle in-and-out that was a pale echo of what was to come.
He watched Samuel’s face, every fluttering of his dark eyelashes, every bite of his swollen lower lip. The little sounds Samuel made, sharp intakes of breath, soft, punched-out moans, were a drug, winding the coil of tension in Gael’s gut tighter and tighter.
When Samuel begun moving against his finger, when his cries had become a continuous, desperate litany and his body was pliant and open, Gael added a second. He stretched him with infinite care, scissoring his fingers gently.
When Samuel was breathless and begging, his hips lifting off the bed to meet Gael’s hand, he withdrew his fingers. He slicked himself, his own cock thick and aching, the touch almost too much. He positioned himself between Samuel’s spread thighs, leaning down to kiss him once more. This kiss was softer, a fleeting moment of tenderness in the eye of the hurricane.
“Look at me,” he breathed against Samuel’s lips.
Samuel’s eyes, glazed with pleasure and dark with a trust that stole Gael’s breath, found his.
Gael pushed forward.
The breach was slow, a relentless, burning pressure giving way to an impossible, consuming heat. Samuel’s eyes flew wide, a strangled sound caught in his throat. Gael stopped, buried to the hilt, his own breath coming in ragged, tearing gasps. He was sheathed in a tightness so perfect, a heat so intense, it bordered on agony. He held still, trembling with the monumental effort of restraint, every muscle corded, until he felt Samuel’s body relax around him, until he gave a small, shaky nod, his eyes never leaving Gael’s.
He began to move.
Slow, deep rolls of his hips, a grinding rhythm that pressed him impossibly deep on every stroke. He kissed Samuel all the while; his mouth, his jaw, the salt-damp hollow of his throat, the sharp ridge of his collarbone. He worshipped the skin with his lips even as he claimed the body beneath him. Samuel’s legs came up to wrap around Gael’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper. His moans became a constant, sweet, desperate music in Gael's ears.
The slow, grinding pace was exquisite torture, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more.
With a guttural sound, he rose up on his knees. He took Samuel’s wrists in one hand, pinning them to the mattress above his head. The position arched Samuel’s back, exposed the long, vulnerable line of his throat, made his body a taut, offered feast.
“Keep them there.”
Then he took Samuel’s hips in both hands, his grip firm, and began to fuck him in earnest.
Deep, powerful, piston-like strokes that buried him to the root each time, driving the air from Samuel’s lungs in sharp, rhythmic cries. The sound of skin meeting skin, wet, slick, and frantic, filled the room.
The sensation was overwhelming; the tight clutch of Samuel’s body on every inward stroke, the slick, hot slide, the way Samuel’s body yielded and took him, again and again. Samuel was keening now, a continuous, high sound of pleasure-pain, his head thrown back, the cords of his neck standing out. His flushed cock bounced against his stomach, hard and leaking, a pearl of moisture beading at the tip.
Gael was lost in it. The world narrowed to the feel of Samuel around him, squeezing him, milking him. The coil in his own gutwas a white-hot knot, seconds from snapping. He was so close, the pressure building at the base of his spine an unbearable tension.
He released one of Samuel’s hips and wrapped his fist around his cock. The skin was like hot velvet over steel. He jerked him in time with his own brutal, driving thrusts, his thumb swiping over the slick head on every upstroke.
