Chapter 29

29

Troy

I’m like a kid on Christmas morning. A surprise from Atlas isn’t the kind of thing I would’ve looked forward to months ago, but now I’m eager for it.

“Hm…shall we make a little wager?”

His words remind me of the bet that started all this—how certain I’d been he was bullshitting me about that blowjob, how much I’d underestimated him.

He’s surprised me since that day, and he keeps surprising me. I know he set this bet just for fun, but what the hell does he have in store for me?

When he opens the door, he’s in his hoodie, his hair wavy over his forehead in that way that looks like a stylist set it like that, but knowing him, he just ran his fingers through it real quick. He wears a cocky expression, and as soon as I enter, I kiss him like I haven’t seen him in days. I push his body up against the door to close it, then lock it for him. I didn’t intend to kiss him for very long, but before I know it, our arms are wrapped around each other.

“Someone’s looking like he already won our little bet,” I tease.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’m pretty confident, but I also like surprises.”

Which is what’s made me so damn frisky.

“Come on,” I say. “Don’t leave me waiting. I wanna get to that me-doing-whatever-I-want-to-you stuff.”

His smile expands.

I scan the apartment. “So where is it?”

His arms are still around me, his hands settling at the small of my back.

“Did you think I was gonna make it easy for you?” he asks. “You have to find it.”

Which excites me even more. God, this man knows how to work me up.

I pull away from him, starting for the kitchen.

“Colder,” he says, which makes me do a double take.

“Are we really playing this game right now?”

“My games are fun.”

Yes, they are.

I take a step toward the living room.

“Colder.”

“What are you up to, A?” I take a step toward him, and he waits a moment, his gaze set on mine. “Warmer.”

“Oh, I have a feeling I’m really gonna like this surprise,” I say, returning to him and hooking my arms around him; I like them better like that anyway. “Are you my gift?”

He chuckles. “It’s on me somewhere, but you still have to find it.”

I slide my hands to his ass, gripping firmly. “This it?”

“Now, that wouldn’t be much of a surprise at this point, would it?”

“Maybe not, but I definitely have some things in mind for it.”

As I pull my hands back to continue my search, my right hand slides across his torso.

“Warmer.”

I move down to his crotch, thinking it an obvious choice.

“Colder, perv,” he says with that charming-ass smile.

I wince. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

He’s really got me stumped here, and the way he’s beaming, he must know he’s winning our bet. I run my hand under the hem of his hoodie, up his smooth flesh, probing higher.

“Warmer,” he whispers.

There’s this hope in me, one I feel stupid for entertaining. He’s going to know the moment I put my hand there that it’s what I wish for so badly, but my hand settles on the spot under his pec—my spot.

“Ding. Ding. You found it.”

His eyes are on mine, so he must catch the red in my cheeks, since they’re warm.

There’s some tension in me, like I’m gonna find out this is all a prank, but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t suggest he’s kidding.

With my free hand, I grab the hem of his hoodie and pull it up, steadily revealing the lines in his torso, shadows cast beneath them by the overhead light.

I slow my movement, full of suspense as I pull the hem up to his chest, seeing the dark letters before revealing a sight I thought I’d only ever get to enjoy in my imagination.

TROYis written—no, practically printed—just under his pec. As my jaw drops, a jolt of adrenaline courses through me. I inspect the letters carefully. “Why does this look like a tattoo?” I run my thumb over it.

“It’s henna. Taylor has a friend who does them.”

He pulls his arms over his head, and I hurry to get him out of the hoodie and look at his naked torso. Tossing his hoodie over my shoulder, I take in his body art. He’s wearing my name—proudly.

“It feels even better than I thought it would,” I tell him. “Doesn’t that stuff last for a few weeks?”

“Yeah. Figured I’d see how I liked it.”

“I’m jealous since I’ve had to just keep writing your name on my wrist.”

I rest my hand against the top of his abdomen, right under my name. His flesh looks so beautiful with my name on it. I lean down and study it, then offer a peck, like he did with the brand on my wrist. Not even sure why; it just feels like the right thing to do.

“You gonna try and act like that didn’t surprise you?”

I snicker. “I think it’s safe to say you won this one.”

“Good. I love winning.”

“I love winning too. You just seem to make losing fun for me.”

“So this means you do what I say tonight, right?”

Why can’t I stop grinning? “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, let’s go to the bedroom and find out,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me there. I’m still reeling with excitement over his surprise, and when we get into his room, he turns to me. My eyes shift right back to that spot.

“Take your clothes off, T.”

As I obey, he removes his shoes and socks. By the time I’m stripped down, I’m already rock hard, and he stands in front of me, his eyes drinking in my body, watching me like some kind of creeper.

And I love it.

“Now, take my clothes off,” he orders.

I step forward and unfasten his belt, his cock rising along the fabric of his pant leg. I hook my thumb between the waistband of his pants and boxers and pull them to the floor, until I’m on my knees. With his cock in my face, I can’t help myself. I lean in, lick from the base of his shaft up to the head, before engulfing it in my mouth.

God, he tastes good. His hand runs down my head, to the back of my neck, stroking.

When I release his cock, he says, “That was hot, but from now on, why don’t you just stick to doing what I tell you?”

I gaze up at him, and he’s got this wicked grin on his face, one that leaves me wanting to know what he has planned. “Yes, sir,” I say.

I hold his pants down, and he steps out. Then I push to my feet.

He runs the back of his hand along my shoulder, down my chest, then flips his hand to feel down to my navel. “You are a beautiful man, Troy Locklear.”

His hand returns to my shoulder and runs down until he’s reached my wrist, which he gently flips over to see his own name.

His green gaze hits me like a wave as he says, “Kiss me.”

I obey, and he pulls me close, our cocks wedged between us, sliding up our groins as I hook my arms around him, tugging him tight against me. Our tongues explore each other’s mouths, the heat in our bodies intensifying as Atlas guides me. We work together to tear the comforter off the bed before falling onto it, our mouths and hands and legs locking together as we make out.

There’s something different about this time. I’m still hungry for him, but this isn’t like the frenzied fucks we shared early on—the ones where I felt like I had to take everything in case I couldn’t get it again. There’s trust now…in Atlas, in knowing that tonight he’s mine and I’m his.

I feel safe in his hold as he pulls away and whispers, “I want you to fuck me, Troy.”

Another jolt of energy rushes through me, and I start for the nightstand for lube when he grabs my arm, halting me.

“Did I say get lube?” he asks, fire in that green gaze.

“Oh, you want to get real naughty tonight, don’t you?”

“I just feel good now that I know the three S’s.”

We share a laugh before I kiss him again.

My beautiful Atlas, my greedy Atlas, my perfect Atlas.

I practically fall onto him, kissing his beautiful mouth before making my way down his body, to his hole, my hands cupping his thighs as I worship him with my tongue. A thick bead of precum drips from the head of his cock onto his abs. “Yes, Troy. Take me.”

I get up on my knees, hooking my arms under his thighs and sliding him closer to me. I rub my hand over the precum from the head of his cock, then add a little spit to it before running it over my shaft.

Atlas nods with approval, and I watch his eager eyes as I press against his tight hole. I haven’t even gotten the head in, and his body tenses up for a moment. I relax, stroking his inner thigh until I feel him ease up again, then let my head settle in steadily.

“How do you like that?” he asks. “How do I feel?”

“Like you’re opening up just for me,” I say as his ass relaxes even more and I manage to get in about half an inch. Then another.

My gaze shifts to my name under his pec, then to the face of this beautiful man beneath me. As he smiles, I push in a little farther…and farther still, listening to his body, letting his hole relax each time, until I’m finally inside. When I’m in all the way, I lean down and take his mouth, allowing his hole a moment to adjust to my size.

“Fuck, I can feel you right there,” he tells me, and as he opens his eyes again, he gazes into mine.

I relax my forearm beside him, and with my free hand, caress his pretty face, tracing those lips with my thumb. I lean back, and he nods before I stroke slowly. His ass grips my cock, and I love knowing that it’s just some spit and precum between us.

I gaze down at him, at his beautiful wavy hair and that surprise under his pec.

He moans. “You like fucking me with your name on me?”

“Yes.” It’s my confession. Something just for him to know.

“I like my name on you too. I like knowing that right now, nothing else matters. Just you and me. Your cock in my ass, right up against that spot. Right there.”

“Oh fuck, A.”

I thrust gently. Then again. And again.

His cheeks flush pink as he writhes under me, rolling his head back, calling out, “Oh, Troy.”

I fuck him harder, rocking his body on the mattress, the headboard trembling against the wall, not as bad as that first time since we were courteous enough to move it to spare the neighbors.

I steadily build up my pace, watching precum slide from his head. He closes his eyes, savoring every inch of me.

“You’re making me fucking jealous,” I say, “watching you take me like that.”

He snickers in that mischievous way he has. His eyes open, and he leans up on his forearms, hooking his hand around my head and drawing me close to his lips. “I’m glad you’re jealous,” he says, “because I think I’m about ready to fuck you now.”

“Oh, my wicked Atlas.”

“You want that?”

“Yes.”

We’re all lips, tongues, and teeth as I pull out of him, swapping with him so I’m on my back, my body aching for his cock.

He lubricates himself the same way I did, showing that same caution and care. Is it selfish that I’m the only one who gets to know this side of him? The care he takes, how thoughtful he is, how aware of my body as he listens to my movements to steadily guide him.

Like with him, it takes time to get him deep in me.

“Ooh,” I say once we’re there. There’s a bit of a sting to it, but I love the way he makes it sting…and feeling him like a rod against my prostate.

His tongue explores my mouth as I run my hand to the back of his neck, the other sliding down his back.

We build into a rhythm, our bodies in sync, his cock and tongue taking what’s his, sending ripples of sensation through me in intense waves.

How did we wind up here? We were kids who used to arm-wrestle, red-faced, gritted teeth, filled with a determined fury, each willing to watch our own arms snap before losing to the other. We teased and taunted, practically tortured each other, slinging insults and barbs. To those who didn’t know us, we were rivals, enemies even. Now, after another night of fun exploration, we’re practically molded together in these sheets.

My hand continues traveling down his back. After all the fucks we’ve shared, my fingers and tongue have become familiar with his body, greedily following along these routes—every line, every curve—guiding me to seemingly nowhere, but really to something deep inside myself. Something real, something forgotten.

As his cock hits that sweet spot yet again, I can feel all the pressure building in my balls, reaching the crescendo as we’re lost to tongue-filled kisses and heavy thrusts.

“Troy,” he whispers into my mouth. “I want you. I need you.”

He pulls away so I can see him, and he cups my face in his hand, those green eyes set on me. I’ve known those eyes for years. When I’ve looked at them, I’ve known their pain. Their sadness. But I’ve never known them as well as I do now, in this moment. I’m lost in his gaze, not hiding any of myself from him, and I can tell he’s not hiding any of himself from me. These are our real selves, staring, panting, all desire and passion, just wanting each other.

“I love you. I love you, Troy,” he says between heavy breaths.

“I love you too, Atlas.”

As he fucks me, he doesn’t take his eyes off mine, and I steady my gaze, reveling in his thrusts, the pressure as it mounts rapidly.

“Come inside me. I’m yours, A. All yours.”

His face twists up in that familiar way, and his cock pulses in me.

“Fuck yes, yes,” I say, hooking my legs around him, drawing him closer. He collapses against me, kissing me again, and I take my cock, stroking as his hard girth continues pushing against that tender spot in me.

My ass tightens, like it refuses to let Atlas go, and the pressure builds until I think I can’t stand it when I shoot, gasping out a moan as Atlas continues drowning me in kisses.

This isn’t the rhythm we built into—these are sloppy, messy, chaotic.

So us.

I wrap my arms around him as he slides his under mine to draw me close.

We cling to each other, falling from the high, from our confessions.

And all I can think is: I’m fucking his. All fucking his.