17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Samuel

Oh, God. Why does he taste so good?

No one should be allowed to taste as good as Rory, and it has me losing my mind with want for him. I want him under me, riding me, and then coming all over me.

Fuck! That thought nearly has me coming in my boxers, but that's not what I want. Not now that I have him under me, moaning like we're sinning.

I want to sin so much more, and in so many ways, that I can never be redeemed again.

I lean away from him, and in doing so, my lips leave his, and a bit of oxygen and blood return to my brain. It's not enough to walk away, but enough to watch him and admire how beautiful he is when he's aroused. I can't wait to see what he looks like in the throes of passion.

I lean in when he whimpers from the loss of my lips and crush my mouth to his, trying to steal more of his brain, taking pride in the incoherent sounds coming out of his mouth.

I do this, lean away and lean in, a couple more times, and every time I'm surprised at how beautiful he is, and how excited I am at the idea of making him mine.

I don't think about forever; I think about now. I think about our souls, afraid and in need of a tender touch, in need of some pleasure to counteract the pain we both went through by losing people we love.

But that's not what I want to think about. Not right now. Right now, I want him to be so delirious, so excited, that only my voice can make him come.

But I also need to make sure he's okay with me, even if this is just a one-time thing. I want him to be here with me. I don't want him closing his eyes and thinking I'm John.

"Sam, please," he says, trying to pull me back into a kiss.

I don't fight him at all, because it's my name on his lips, answering the question I couldn't ask.

Rory's hands on my back, caressing me, and then moving down to my ass, have me grinding against him, trying to release some of the tension making my cock way too hard from so few touches. I can feel it trying to break free from my bottoms.

I'm glad when he does the same. But when his ragged breath gets too harsh, I stop, because I don't want us to come like this.

I want him naked in my bed, ready for me to take him, so I can bring him up to the sky, and then crash to Earth together afterwards.

I don't question my need to make him mine. I don't want to think, because thinking means I won't be doing what I'm doing right now with Rory. Because thinking means I'll remember the reasons I shouldn't be touching him.

Rory's hand, pulling me towards his lips again, has every thought leaving my already muddled brain, and I let everything else go to concentrate on him.

"Are—" I try to ask, but he kisses me harder, and everything is lost in the pleasure he's giving me.

I move from his lips to his throat, then back up to stop at his chin, gently biting him there. His hips arch up and his body rubs against mine, something I want to see and feel again. So, I follow the same path, down to the hollow of his throat and up to his chin, then a gentle bite, and a swipe of my tongue to take the pain away. Then I start again, down and up again a couple more times.

I relish the sounds he's letting out even more, because they're as loud as my own ragged breathing, but so much sweeter to my ears.

Then I'm captured by the hollow of his throat, and I lick there, tasting his skin and his sweat, and even though it's not as sweet as the taste of his mouth, it's still enough to make me an addict. I move on from there, trying to get to his shoulder, licking along his collarbone, flicking my tongue now and then to heighten the pleasure. I stop only when his T-shirt prevents me from continuing my exploration.

Frustrated, my focus shifts, and I work on getting the obstacle out of my way.

I pull his shirt up and don't stop until it's on the floor, where I let it fall. But I don't take my eyes off of Rory's body, appearing bit by bit in front of me and making my mouth salivate for a taste of him.

As soon as the garment is out of the way, I lean in and pick up where I left off, finally able to run across the straight line between his neck and shoulder, with nothing stopping me from doing it.

My stubble caresses his pecs at the same time, making Rory's nipples peak, causing him to moan. A sound I want to hear more of. So I move away from his collarbone, placing a kiss on his nipple, and then I lick and bite until the colour has changed, and it's become so sensitive that a puff of air has Rory shivering in my arms.

I want him to be so turned on and ready for me to take him that nothing matters anymore. I don't want to investigate this thought because it's not like me. Rory, though, has been different from the beginning.

Once I'm happy with one nipple, I move on to the next, and I work it as well as I did the other, making Rory more and more excited, until he's wriggling on the sofa.

It's not the best place to have sex, but I don't want to move because I don't want him to change his mind and leave. Right now, after tasting him, I need him to be mine. Even if it's only once.

I push him further into the sofa and trail down his upper body until I reach the waist of his trousers, and then I mouth him through the fabric, making him shout in pleasure. It must have been a while for him too, if he's already so affected by what I'm doing. Unless, like me, he's felt the connection growing between us since we first met.

I struggle with the drawstring, because my hands are trembling so much from the excitement filling my body. I let out a sigh of relief when I finally manage to undo them and pull the bottoms off his legs. He looks amazing, sprawled on my sofa, clad in only a pair of boxers, waiting for me to take him.

I have to reach into my own trousers to squeeze my cock, to avoid coming inside my boxers. There is no way I'm going to do that while I've got him here with me.

Once I'm sure I've staved off my orgasm, I bring my eyes back to his face, just to find him looking at me with heavy-lidded eyes and something close to a pout on his face. He looks so cute and my need to devour him grows a little more, but so does the need to care for him and make him . . . happy?

I may be a changed man after I come inside him. I have the feeling I won't be able to let him go after I make him mine.

This thought increases my excitement instead of staving it off, and I'm aware I should be worried, but instead, I lean in and resume playing with his nipples, while my hand takes care of his boxers.

Once he's naked under me, I cover him with my body and take possession of his mouth and lips.

"Are you okay?" I ask, pulling back a fraction, because I need to make sure he's still in this. I'll hate myself if he regrets this tomorrow.

"I'm not," he says, and I pull away, trying to get to my knees, just to be pulled back against him. "I want you naked as well." He kisses me as if he's starving and I'm the best dessert he's ever had.

I give as good as I take, and soon we're both breathing hard. I shiver when Rory's hand wanders and caresses my back, like his fingers are feathers, making me shiver and want more. I let out a groan when his hand goes under my T-shirt, and then I help him out when he tries to get rid of it. I tremble under his nimble fingers, and every place he touches burns like I've been branded.

Once my shirt is off and his hands can wander freely, he doesn't leave any part of my back untouched. I let him do as he pleases because I need his hands on me like people in the desert need water.

While he plays with the muscles in my back, I resume getting to know his body. I lick and gently bite the expanse of his chest, making sure to touch every visible muscle while inching to the part of him that's hard and waiting for my touch. Once I'm there, I take possession of his cock, so I can lick from base to tip. I love the sounds coming from him. Even more so, when I take him into my mouth and go down, engulfing him before moving up, hollowing my cheeks to make it even more pleasurable for him. He arches off the sofa, trying to feed me more of himself, and then slumping on the bed when I let him go.

"God, you nearly made me come," he complains, but his heavy breathing and trembling voice ruin the effect.

"I'm here to please," I say, winking at him. I'm loving the fact that we can have sex and jokes as well.

"Please me more," he says, and his need is palpable.

I take him back into my mouth and use all my skills to have him shouting in pleasure, always pulling back before he can come, and leaving him breathing hard on the sofa.

But my need for him is growing as fast as his need for me does, and the next time I take him into my mouth I feed him my fingers, and he sucks them as well as I'm sucking him. Once they are wet and dripping with saliva, I remove them from his mouth and place them at his entrance. On my next trip down his cock, I ease a finger in, only to stop when the passage becomes too tight for me to move without causing him pain. I come up and go down on him again until my finger is fully inside him, and he's practically vibrating.

I move my finger in and out of Rory's ass, following the sounds of his whimpers to make it more pleasurable for him. When he gets used to the sensation, I suck on his cock and ease another finger in. Rory's nails on my back have me rubbing my poor, neglected cock on the cushions in search of some friction. My need to be inside him is growing with every moan coming out of his mouth.

Rory's breathing becomes shallow when I scissor my fingers inside him, to stretch him enough so it won't hurt when I take him. If my need for him grows even an inch more, I'm not sure I'll be able to be as gentle as I want to be once I'm inside him.

"Sam . . ." His voice is breathless and full of want. It has me releasing his cock to answer his pleas.

"I'm here, sweets. Just another finger."

"I need you now."

"Take another one for me."

"Yes." His breathless voice is so arousing that I have to grind my cock further into the sofa.

I take him into my mouth again and suck hard while I push three fingers inside him. His hands come to my hair and grip me there while he hisses and arches up. I let him go while I keep my fingers inside so he can adjust. When he relaxes again, I move them in and out, spreading and twisting them until he's breathing hard and asking for more. I push against his prostate every other time, and I love how he groans in pleasure.

"Sam . . . I'm ready. Please . . ."

I can't resist this time. I pull back and leave him to grab the lube and condom I keep in the drawer of my desk. Then I come back to him and take my place between his legs. I stay on my knees, applying a generous amount of liquid at his entrance, and massage it into him until he's covered in it. I put the condom on, more than ready to take him.

Rory's breaths are loud in the otherwise silent room. I pull his hips up and slightly off the sofa, and I align my cock at his entrance, aching now to be inside him.

"Are you ready?" I ask, because I need permission before I make him mine.

He nods, and I push in as slowly as possible while I'm as excited as I am.

We look at each other while I push forward, breaching his tight ring of muscles. Rory is so hot inside, welcoming and tight around me. I have to use all my willpower to stop myself from coming on the first stroke, and from thrusting as hard as I can inside him.

Instead, I wait for Rory to get comfortable, using the expressions parading across his face to check for any signs of discomfort. Then, when he seems to have adjusted to my presence in his body, I pull back and push in a little further, trying to fill him to the brim.

I shiver when I'm fully sheathed, and again, only my willpower keeps my orgasm at bay.

I lean in and kiss him, devouring him while trying to make him understand how good it is to be inside him.

When Rory wraps his arms around my neck and moves his hips, pulling me in even more, I bite him and rejoice in his groan of pleasure and pain.

We start a rhythm, moving together to reach the peak, but the more we move, the more erratic our movement becomes. When Rory's ass clamps down on my cock, gripping me so tightly I nearly lose my mind, I pull his hips even higher and pound him as slowly as I can go at first. My thrusts increase in power the more I hammer into him.

When I nail his prostate and he goes rigid in my arms, arching off the sofa, I keep the position, and push against it with every thrust.

"Sammmm." His scream fills my ears and my body, and I pound him even harder, making him come hard and fast.

Then I search for my own pleasure. But I only manage a handful of thrusts until I need to pull out, before I come inside him.

I remove the condom, take myself in my hand, and stroke my cock as fast as I can until I'm coming all over his chest. I need to see my mark on him. Then I let go of myself and lie on top of him.

Spent and satiated.

Fuck. I can't wait to do it again.

I know I should stand up and clean us both up, but instead, I rest my face where his shoulder meets his neck because I need to keep him close right now. I relax when he places his arms around me and pulls me closer.

We don't talk, and I'm glad, because I don't know what to say. I'm relieved the silence is comfortable and not awkward.

I don't even realise when I fall asleep, because my mind is full of Rory.

Everything else, the guilt, the pain, and the need, are all gone.

I am, I dare to say, happy.