Page 96 of About to Fall

“Please what?”

“Please just fuck me already.”

I pulled the plug out again. Set it aside. Ran my thumb over his stretched rim just to feel him shudder.

He practically ripped off my Christmas cardigan. He did rip off a few buttons on the shirt I'd been wearing underneath—I heard them scatter across the hardwood and couldn't bring myself to care. My glasses were tossed unceremoniously onto the nightstand. He was fumbling with the button fly of my jeans, cursing under his breath when his shaking fingers couldn't work fast enough.

“Fucking—button fly—who designed these—”

“You picked them out for me.”

“Past me was an idiot—finally—”

He shoved them down along with my boxer briefs and then there was nothing between us. Just skin and heat and want. He dropped to his knees in front of me and took me into the wet heat of his mouth and every rational thought I'd ever had left my brain.

He was good at this. Obscenely good. Hollowed cheeks and lazy eye contact and those fucking lip rings dragging along the underside of my cock in a way that should have been illegal. He took me deeper, throat relaxing, one hand gripping my hip to control the pace while the other palmed himself through his jockstrap. The sound he made around me—low and greedy, like he'd been starving for it—vibrated through me until my knees nearly buckled.

“Oh fuck—as good as that feels, I was promised your ass.” I tugged gently at his hair until he released me with a slick pop, a string of spit connecting his swollen lower lip to the head of my cock. He looked up at me—wrecked, pupils blown, mouth red and wet—and the sight of him on his knees nearly broke my resolve entirely. “Get on the bed. Face down. Ass up.”

He did not need to be told twice. He climbed onto the bed and got onto all fours, arching his back before I was even fully positioned behind him. The jockstrap framed him perfectly. His thighs were trembling.

I ran my fingers down the length of his spine, a whisper of contact, just to watch him shiver. “Mmm. Impatient?”

“God, Nicky. I think you enjoy torturing me.”

“You do squirm so beautifully.”

I planted my fists next to his on the bed, pressing my front to his back, letting him feel how hard I was between his cheeks. He reached out with his pinky to trace the bracelet now locked on my left wrist.

“Fuck, I love seeing this.” His voice was rough, wrecked. “Will you give me something else tonight?”

The same hands that had locked the bracelet onto my wrist were gripping the sheets now, knuckles white. Around his neck, the cherry blossom pendant caught the light—the necklace I'd given him. A delicate gold chain with a single blossom I'd found at a jeweller near Dotonbori the afternoon after we'd first slept together. It had reminded me of his neck tattoo. He'd added the tiny gold key that unlocked my bracelet to the chain before putting it on. The only way to free me, resting against his skin.

“Anything.”

“I want you to be the first one to fuck me bare. I'm on PrEP.”

I went still.

I had never had sex without a condom. Not even with Théo. We had regular physicals, so I knew I was clear. But the idea—the thought of being inside him with nothing between us—was like kindling catching fire. Pretty soon the desire to fill him was all consuming.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.” He turned his head, catching my eye over his shoulder. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

“I’ve never gone bare before either.”

He whimpered at my confession—a broken, desperate sound that went straight through me. I reached over to his nightstand for the lube.

He squirmed impatiently as I flicked open the cap. “Shh. I've got you.”

I slicked myself up, gripped the waistband of his jock, and yanked him back against me. His rim was still slippery from wearing the plug all evening. I sank into him and it felt like coming home.

The warmth. The rightness of it. The beautiful moan it pulled out of him. Nothing between us now—just him and me and the impossible intimacy of skin against skin.

“Oh God—” His voice cracked. “Nicky—”

I pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. Another to the nape of his neck. Let my lips trace the shell of his ear.