Page 35 of Caught Offside

They fell onto the bed together, and the urgency changed, the hallway scramble giving way to something slower now that there was no reason to rush. Asher was on his back with Patrick braced over him, one forearm beside his head, the other hand tracing a line down his sternum to his belt with a focus so precise that Asher exhaled something close to a laugh.

“What?” Patrick said.

“Nothing. You’re concentrating like there’s a quiz after.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then quit thinking so hard and get my pants off.”

Patrick undid his belt with one hand, the buckle, the leather, the button of his jeans, and the efficiency of it emptied Asher’s head. He pushed the jeans down and Asher kicked them off, and then Patrick’s hand was on him through his briefs, direct and unhesitating, and Asher’s hips came up off the mattress.

“Fuck,” he managed.

Patrick’s mouth was on his neck, below his ear, the hinge of his jaw, the hollow of his throat, his hand keeping a rhythm through the cotton until Asher couldn’t hold still. He arched into it and reached for the waistband of Patrick’s joggers, needing them gone.

Patrick stripped them off, the underwear with them, and Asher did the same, the two of them bare together for the first time. The want in Patrick’s face was so open that Asher’s breath caught.

Patrick’s body settled over his, heavy, and Asher went still under the weight of him, steadied by it. He got a hand around Patrick, thick and hot against his palm, and the shudder that went through Patrick was full-body, his hips pushing into the contact before the rest of him decided to allow it.

“Tell me what you want,” Asher said, his voice stripped of its usual ease.

Patrick kissed him instead of answering, deep and slow, and when he pulled back, his voice was rough. “This. You. It’s been a while.”

“Then we go slow.”

They went slow. There was no rush this time and nowhere either of them had to be, and Asher meant to take Patrick apart with all the time they’d never had. He rolled Patrick onto his back and settled over him, kissing him slow and deep until Patrick’s hands came up restless and gripping, like he couldn’t decide whether to pull Asher closer or just hold on.

Asher worked his way down. He pressed his lips to the hollow of Patrick’s throat, the line of his sternum, the ridge of muscle over his ribs that jumped under his mouth. Lower to the cut of his hip, the crease of his thigh, deliberately not where Patrick wanted him, until Patrick’s hips came off the bed, chasing it.

“Patience,” Asher murmured against his skin, and Patrick’s whole body went tight at the word.

Then he stopped teasing. He took Patrick’s cock into his mouth slowly, all the way down, and the sound that tore out of Patrick was nothing like his careful voice on the phone. Asher had wanted this longer than he’d ever told him, the weight and heat of him on his tongue. He gave it everything, tongue, suction, the slow drag of his lips, one hand wrapped around the base.

He pulled off just to look, slick mouth, slick cock, Patrick spread out and coming undone in the low light.

“You should see yourself,” Asher said, his hand still working him slowly. “All that control, and you’re falling apart on my tongue.” He licked back up the length of him and tongued the head until Patrick’s hips jerked. “We’ve got all night, and I’m going to use every minute of it on you.”

He took him deep again, then backed off, learning him by the catch of his breath, the way his thighs shook when Asher pressed his tongue just under the head, the wrecked noise he made when Asher took him all the way down and swallowed around him. Asher kept up a low running murmur against his skin, half filth and half praise, the way he always got when he wanted somebody this badly.

His free hand wandered lower, over Patrick’s balls and the sensitive skin behind them, and Patrick went rigid, a sharp breath hissing out of him. There it was. Asher dragged the pad of one finger lower, not in, just there, a slow press and circle, and the sound Patrick made was brand new.

“Oh,” Asher breathed, lifting his head to watch his face. “You like that. You want more than my mouth tonight, don’t you?” He circled again, barely any pressure, and Patrick’s hips chased it before he could stop them. “Yeah. You do. You want me to open you up and get inside you.”

Patrick came apart at that, a full-body shudder, his hips caught between Asher’s mouth and Asher’s hand like he couldn’t choose. His fingers fisted in Asher’s hair, not guiding, just holding on. His voice went ragged, half Asher’s name and half nothing at all, the last of his composure burning off right there in front of Asher.

“Asher—” Patrick’s voice cracked, his hand pulling at Asher’s hair. “Stop. If you keep doing that, this is over, and I want—” He didn’t finish.

Asher came off him slowly, with a filthy drag of his mouth, and crawled back up his body. “You want what?” He kissed the corner of Patrick’s jaw, the edge of his throat. “Say it. I’m not going to guess.”

Patrick turned his head and caught Asher’s mouth, kissed him hard, and when he pulled back, his eyes were dark and certain in the low light. “I want you inside me.”

Asher’s brain whited out for a second. “Yeah,” he said when he could manage words. “Yes. God, yes.”

He found the lube in the nightstand by feel, and his hands weren’t steady. Patrick watched him the whole time, that flat focused attention turned all the way up, except now there was nothing guarded left under it.

“You sure?” Asher said, slicking his fingers, settling between Patrick’s thighs. “Last chance to make me behave.”

“I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life,” Patrick said. “Do it anyway.”