Page 59 of Gunpowder

“You’re nauseatingly loyal to them. They don’t deserve it,” Wren said.

“They’re my family.” Blair chanced a step forward, bringing them close enough for his shirt to brush against Wren’s. “Sweet of you to worry, though.”

“I’m not worried,” Wren said as if Blair had suggested something truly horrific.

Blair kissed him. Any plans he might have had to pull away after were brought to a halt by Wren’s hands on his face, holding them together. One of them slid around to grip the back of his neck and Blair shuddered. Maybe they shouldn’t have been making out in public, but that didn’t stop him from pushing up to meet the pressure of Wren’s lips against his. As irritated as Wren seemed before, Blair didn’t know where this was coming from and with the way Wren’s tongue dragged against his, he didn’t know if he cared.

Wren broke away but only to bring his mouth to Blair’s ear, still holding Blair in place against his body. “Let me take you home,” he murmured.

Blair’s fingers clenched in his shirt. “Yes, god yes.”

After a tense car ride and an equally tense elevator ride—since there was someone else in there with them and preventing them from picking up where they left off—they finally walked into Wren’s apartment. Blair barely had his shoes off before his back was hitting the door and Wren was on him.

Wren didn’t stop kissing him to pick him up, just grabbed him under the thighs and lifted him as casually as he’d done the first time, and it didn’t turn Blair on any less the second time. He wrapped his legs around Wren, moaning as it rubbed his stiffening cock against Wren’s body. Wren lowered him to the couch and wrenched Blair’s shirt off. Blair shivered, less from the air conditioned apartment and more from the ferocity in Wren’s touch as he gave the same treatment to Blair’s pants. Wren hooked his fingers into Blair’s underwear and pulled them down, leaving Blair naked against the leather, not an entirely comfortable feeling but not nearly enough to deter him from continuing.

Blair grabbed the hem of Wren’s shirt and pushed it up his torso, and Wren took it the rest of the way off since that was the highest Blair could reach without getting up from the couch. Something about the way Wren stood over him gave Blair the impression Wren liked him where he was. His heart raced, watching Wren pull a small bottle out of his pocket. He couldn’t even bring himself to give Wren a hard time for the fact he was carrying lube around with him since it was currently very fucking convenient.

Wren pulled his hips to the edge of the couch and Blair let his head fall back against the couch as a slick finger circled his entrance. Blair spread his legs on either side of Wren, propping his feet on the coffee table. He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until the feeling of that finger breaching him made his eyes fly open, and he found Wren leaning over him, his hand braced on the back of the couch beside Blair’s head. A low moan tore out of him as that finger curled inside him.

“More,” Blair gasped.

He saw his own hunger mirrored in their locked gazes, and Wren added a second finger, working Blair open roughly and making Blair love every second of it. By the time he added a third finger Blair was prepared to beg, but Wren’s patience seemed to be just as depleted since he made quick work of twisting and scissoring them to open Blair up before slipping them out. Blair couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed by being on display with how badly he wanted Wren inside him.

Blair drew a quick breath as Wren lined himself up with his entrance. He swallowed back the demands for Wren to hurry up; it was probably for his own sake that Wren was easing him into it, and the thought filled his chest with tingling warmth.

Wren pushed Blair’s knees back as he eased his lube-slick cock into him, practically folding Blair in half. Blair couldn’t move at all, save for grasping Wren’s shoulders. He could only take, and Wren gave, slowly sinking into him so deep that Blair’s cock leaked precome from the stretch alone.

“How’s your leg?” Wren asked.

“S’fine,” Blair panted. “Fuck me.”

“You—” Wren said it like he meant for it to be an insult, but it was tinged with something else. Something soft. He withdrew almost all the way, then snapped his hips forward. Blair’s moan didn’t even taper off before Wren set a brutal pace, reducing Blair’s voice to a trembling cadence of pleasure and need. Wren bent over him so far that his bangs brushed against Blair’s face. “You drive me insane, Blair.”

Blair’s legs shook in Wren’s grasp. Wren hit his prostate with deadly precision, staring down at him all the while. Blair tried to keep himself off the edge but he never stood a chance, he was the oxygen to Wren’s acetylene, burned away mercilessly as Wren blazed around him.

“Touch yourself. I want to see you make yourself come,” Wren said. He’d only taken himself out of his pants without bothering to take them off, so the open folds of his jeans rubbed against Blair with every thrust, rough compared to the leather couch that was becoming slippery from his sweat.

Blair didn’t bother telling him that he could have come even without having his cock touched. He didn’t think he could have denied Wren anything in that moment, strung up so high on the ecstasy of Wren fucking into him. He circled his fingers around his cock, spreading precome down his length to stroke himself as quickly as his shaking hand would allow.

“Oh f-fuck,” Blair gasped, writhing but trapped between the back of the couch and his own folded legs against his chest.

He could lean his head up, though, and he caught Wren’s lip between his teeth, worrying it gently at first before biting. Wren’s pace faltered, a moan spilling from his mouth into Blair’s. The sound snapped the tension already coiled so tight inside of Blair, his nails sinking deeper into Wren’s shoulder as he came.

“That’s it,” Wren said against his ear, his voice so raspy and wrecked that it brought another wave of Blair’s orgasm crashing over him.

What he didn’t expect was for Wren to keep fucking him like he had no intention of stopping.

“Wren, I can’t… not again,” Blair said around a panting breath.

“You can,” Wren replied, lowering Blair’s legs to his waist and then picking him up off the couch. “And you will.”

Blair shivered as the room spun and his back hit the cold glass that made up the entire far wall of Wren’s apartment. Wren held him up against it, pulling Blair down against every upward thrust. Blair’s moan was almost a scream as Wren found the angle to hit his overstimulated prostate, arms winding around Wren’s neck, fingers sinking into the tousled black strands of Wren’s hair. He wanted to argue that he couldn’t possibly come again but Wren touched him like he needed him, and it was enough, more than enough for Blair to give him everything he wanted. He clung to Wren and rode out the twinges of oversensitivity until his cock had fully hardened again between them.

“Wren,” Blair moaned, his voice pleading without even knowing what he was asking for. “Wren.”

Wren shuddered against him. “Come on, Blair, let go. Come for me.”

Blair was amazed the glass hadn’t cracked with how viciously Wren was fucking him against. His back was going to be sore as all hell, but god it was going to be worth it. Wren’s precarious ponytail finally came loose, his hair falling around Blair’s fingers, and Blair pulled it so hard that Wren’s head jerked back.

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