Page 115 of Fire & Ice

“Oh,God,” Tripp cries, legs trembling and breath coming in near-gasps when Leander gets a hand around his thickening length and gently gives him the contact he’s been so desperately craving.

“Still Lee,” he says mildly, outwardly unbothered by Tripp’s absolutely ruined state. “Or Sir, to you.”

Tripp makes a noise that could possibly be an attempt to say,“Sir,”or maybe, “fuck you,”but they’ll never know, because it’s muffled terribly against Leander’s throat. As both of his hands fist wildly into Leander’s shirt, Tripp’s mouth stays open and wet on his skin.

Leander cradles him close, can feel the way his muscles jump, unsure as to whether he wants to lean into the (over)stimulation or rip his body away. Lost to sensation, Tripp’s tongue darts out near Lee's pulse point, the heat of the air from Tripp’s lungs puffing hot over the saliva it leaves behind.

In his arms, Trippmoans, flinching but rocking his hips forward anyway when Leander gathers precum from the tip of his cock and spreads it around. He’s careful, and slowly, Tripp begins to relax, but Leander’s not an idiot—this is not going to last. No man could be expected to, not after all he’s been through tonight.

Idly, Leander considers what to do next—he’d let Tripp penetrate him, but he’s not sure the man currently possesses thestrength or the stamina to stay vertical on his own right now, never mindfuck.

No, Leander made this bed and will therefore need to help Tripp lie in it, or whatever that analogy would be.

While Tripp whimpers and sways, Leander quickly shoves him backward and onto the counter next to the sink, doing so before he has the chance to fall over completely. With both hands wrapped around his lovely thighs, Leander heaves Tripp up and spreads his legs before ducking between them and taking nearly all of Tripp’s cock deep into his throat without reservation. Tripp’s scent is musky from sweating through everything Leander’s subjected him to tonight, and his taste on Leander’s tongue is thick with salt, backed with the bitter tang of his release.

Apparently unable to stop himself, Tripp nearly sobs when he’s abruptly thrust into the wet heat of his Dom’s mouth, throwing his head back and hitting the mirror with acrack,though it doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. He tightens his thighs around Leander’s head, and Leander has to fight his arms through to pin them back down, lest he be suffocated.

It would not be a terrible way to go, he thinks.

When he glances up, Tripp has an arm thrown dramatically across his face, leaving tear tracks visible at the bottom of his cheeks. His chest is heaving and his free hand is hoveringjustabove Leander’s head, fingers flexing and releasing while he only barely resists the urge to grab, totake,to press down.

Leander pops off of him with a slurping sound, dips down to mouth at his balls and lick around the base of his cock. Satisfied with the way Tripp tenses but still doesn’t touch him,Leander purses his lips and takesjustthe crown in between them, sucking gently.

Above him, Tripp’s mouth drops open and his head tilts further back, and Leander’s never been sorrier that he doesn’t have a camera handy. The line of his sub’s throat, long and damp with sweat, has never looked more enticing. Tripp’s entire body shakes beneath him, and Leander refocuses, reaching up to grab Tripp’s hovering hand and plant it firmly in his hair, pushing down and sending himself with it.

“Oh,fuck yes, Sir,”Tripp yells as he’s given free rein to pull Leander’s hair and shove his face down into his crotch. It’s a reward that Tripp deserves, and Leander does his damndest to let him use it to his heart’s content. He relaxes his jaw, breathes through his nose, and allows Tripp to fuck his face enthusiastically.

This whole night has essentially been foreplay, and Tripp has been perfection, the likes of which Leander hardly believed existed in the world. Because of that, it’s no surprise when it’s barely two minutes of action before his hips are stuttering, his muscles are clenching, and there’s hot cum spilling violently down Leander’s throat.

Calmly, while Tripp hollers and cries, Leander closes his lips around the width of him, simultaneously removing Tripp’s hand from his head as he swallows and works him through the tremors. Devilishly, he also makes sure to lick the last drops of spend clean from Tripp’s slit when he’s done, flicking his tongue an extra pass around the head in the process. It’s borderline cruel, but Leander can’t be expected to resist an opportunity to torture Tripp just alittlebit more, now can he?

After that, Leander relents, though he relishes the way Tripp jerks and thrashes at the mere threat of continued overstimulation. While he straightens up, Tripp doesn’t evenpretend to move, just stays splayed out provocatively on the countertop, his pants dangling haphazardly from one ankle. He’s a sight: his neck is bent at a strange angle so that he can lean against the mirror, his shirt is rucked to high heaven, and he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon, sweat sheen covering every inch of visible skin.

Again,Leander laments his lack of foresight with the camera—even his iPhone is out at the table with Beau, since he hadn’t wanted to bring it into the Champagne room. Additionally, whatever happened to Tripp’s phone is anyone’s guess—Leander hasn’t seen it all night, and that’s a damn shame right about now.

“Good gift,” Tripp croaks, flashing a thumbs up that gives Leander a glimpse of the collar wrapped around his left wrist,andthe ring on his finger. Suddenly, Leander’s feeling warm for an entirely different reason, and he responds by leaning forward to scoop a disheveled Tripp up and hug him tight.

“I’m very grateful for you,” he says gruffly, pulling back to find Tripp smiling dopily, staring up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Gettin’ sappy on me, Lee?”

“No,” Leander denies, crouching down to grab the waist of Tripp’s jeans and pull them back over his free foot. “Come, let’s get you semi-presentable—I think ‘fully’ may be a lost cause at this point, but needs must.”

“You should talk,” Tripp snorts, pointing to Leander’s hair.

With a start, Leander glances up and into the mirror, which he’s mostly ignored until now, andoh.He looks nearly as bad as if he’d been intentionally styled to appear like he stuck a fork into a light socket. Abandoning Tripp to sort out his own pants, Leander scowls and runs the water in the sink, stickinghis head underneath the tap until the top of his head is properly soaked. His hair is next-level unruly, but even it can’t survive a drowning.

Once he’s satisfied, Leander flips his head back sharply. The movement causes water to spray everywhere, including over Tripp. He yelps, flinches, and glares, but then seems to realize that the cool liquid feels good, and promptly hops off the counter to do the same with the tap. Leander pretends that he doesn’t notice the way Tripp wobbles on his feet, still unsteady. It is, after all, the night before their wedding—he can give Tripp a break, just this once.

Freshly rinsed and (sort-of) coiffed, the two of them face each other, straightening out clothing and brushing away imaginary dirt and dust until they both look as presentable as they’re going to get.

“What would you like to do now?” Leander asks, figuring he’ll leave it up to Tripp whether they rejoin the party or sneak off to return home and fall into bed together. Tosleep,this time. They do need to getsome. It’s late, and perhaps Leander should be more worried about that than he is, but they only get to do this once. That, plus their ceremony is scheduled for the evening—really, they should have plenty of time to rest and recover, even if they do continue partying for a while longer.

“Oh, ho,” Tripp says triumphantly, like he knows something Leander doesn’t. “Suppose you forgot, too busy making my night hell to remember your promises.” He grins at Leander and waits, while Leander frowns and wracks his brain for whatever he’s missing.

“I—oh,the shots.”

“Yep!” Tripp declares happily.

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