Page 54 of The Puck Chase

“No, stay,” he replies instantly, looking like he surprises even himself with that response, before he sighs. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never really done whatever this is. I guess I thought it would be slower.”

His words make me smile, as I slowly slide my hand into his. “I’m pretty sure whatever the fuck this is has been going on since freshman year, how much slower can we get?”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as his hand slides around the back of my neck, pulling me against him. “That’s because it took you three years to grow some fucking balls and admit you want me,” he mocks, the lightness in his smile so fucking blinding that I never want it to stop.

“What, and you telling me to go fuck myself was flirting, was it?” I toss back, ignoring the swirling nerves in my stomach, and savoring the way his smile fucking widens.

Fuck, he’s so damn pretty.

“Maybe I like playing with my toys,” he grunts, his fingers sliding down from around the back of my neck, until they can close around my throat.

“Is that what I am to you? A toy you can use and fuck?” I boldly ask, desperate for him to disagree with me, but also desperate for him to do just that, yet his eyes only darken.

“What you are to me is a fucking affliction,” he purrs, leaning down to drag his mouth along my jaw and down my neck. “Afucking torment and torture, that I can’t escape from no matter how hard I try.” His teeth sink into the juncture of my throat, sucking hard and making me gasp, as he marks me once more, and all I do is tip my head back to grant him better access.

“Then maybe you should stop trying,” I breathe, his mouth both burning and branding, as I feel him smile against my skin.

Dragging his lips back up to mine, he kisses me roughly, before pulling back and fixing me with a glare. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he goads, squeezing my throat again, as he pushes me back towards his bathroom, slamming me against the door and kissing me once more. “Your lips are bruised from my kiss, your skin is marked by my teeth, your cock is hard against mine,” he emphasizes his points by pulling my bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard, as he rocks his own erection against mine. “I’mpretty sureI have stopped trying,” he teases, lapping at my swollen lip with his tongue, and fuck, do I want him to devour me.

Pushing him back, I hold his stare, as I reach over my head and pull off my sweater, tossing it to the floor and savoring the way his stare dances across my bare chest. My hands are steady as I undo my pants, shoving them down my legs with my boxers, until I am standing naked before him, and never have I felt more free. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, fully aware of the effect that working out and hockey has on it, and I’ve never shied away from the attention it brought me, but I’ve also never craved it. I’ve never stood before someone desperate for their touch, I’ve never yearned for their skin against mine, to feel them, to taste them, to be fucked by them. Yet as his eyes trail over every inch of bare skin on display, I feel like I might die if he doesn’t do something.

“So, I’m yours?” I ask quietly, erasing the distance between us again, and when his stare meets mine it’s filled with nothing but need, as he nods slowly. “Are you mine?” The question hangsin the air between us, and I see the moment he wants to run, the flash of panic across his stare that tells him to deny this, deny us, but he can’t, not anymore. Not when I am standing here naked, offering more to him than I ever have anyone else.

Instead, he stays silent as he guides me towards the shower, his stare still holding mine, and he leads me inside and turns on the water, until it rains down over us both. He’s still fully clothed in his shirt and shorts, and it’s only when the fabric begins to stick to his skin, that I realize he doesn’t want me to see his scars. A thought that has me reaching for him, pulling his soaked body against my own.

I want to tell him that whatever this is between us, that I’ve never felt this way before, but instead I say, “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” It’s still the truth, but one I know he can handle at this moment. “My cock is fucking aching for you, and has been since the moment I first saw you.”

My words have that sinful fucking smile tugging on the corners of his mouth again, as his fingers trace the designs of the tattoos of my chest. “Oh, I don’t know about that. From what I recall you were a bit occupied when I first saw you,” he smirks, his eyes meeting mine, and I swear I can almost see what he saw that night.

“I’m always occupied,” I reply quietly, bringing my hands to his hips and pulling him against me. “I’m always searching for something to make me feel a little less alone,” I admit for the first time to him. “My mom has David, my dad has Katrina, Rora and Ever have each other, and I know they all love me and I am lucky to have them, but there has always been a part of me that needs more.”

His face is serious now, as he brings his hand back to my throat, pressing his head against mine. “Hence all the women,” he muses, bringing his other hand to my cock, giving it a slow, yet lethal stroke.

“Yes,” I gasp, the word barely gritted through my teeth, as he watches me with rapt attention. “They were a distraction in the moments that I craved attention, and it worked, for a little while,” I add in a groan, flicking my stare down to watch the way his fist fucks up and down my length, wondering how I ever thought I didn’t want him this way.

“And what about now?” he asks, forcing my stare back to his as I blink away the water in my eyes. “Do you need a distraction from something, Archer? Is there something you crave?” He pushes, jerking me faster and tighter, until I feel like my knees might buckle beneath the weight of need I have for him.

“I’ve got you dripping wet in a shower, stroking my cock like it was made for you,” I pant, already desperate to come from just his hand on my dick, but still needing more. “Why the fuck would I need a distraction, when the person I have been craving for three fucking years is looking at me like he wants to rip me apart?”

His eyes only darken with my every word, as his hand begins to slow, and my own stare eats up the way the black fabric of his shirt is clinging to every ab. “And would you let me?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his tone now, that has goosebumps lining my skin, despite the heat of the shower raining down on top of me. “Would you let me rip you apart?” He adds, pressing his dripping wet lips to mine and sucking on them gently, as his hands move to my hips and he pulls me roughly against him. “Would you let me ruin you for anyone else?”

My heart is slamming against my ribcage so hard that I’m surprised he can’t feel it. However, my voice is steady, as I cup his face gently and reply, “You already have, Daemon.”

His kiss this time is chaotic, as if he is barely holding on to any shred of control, as his tongue stokes a fire against mine. My hands slide up his back, tugging at the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to get him closer to me, and when my nailsdig into the broad expanse of his shoulders, he grunts into my mouth, kissing me even harder. Our hips thrust together frantically, and when his hands grab and knead my ass, I am fucking putty in his hands.

“Has anyone ever been here?” he asks, pulling away from my lips and attacking my jaw with his teeth and tongue, as one of his hands slides between my ass cheeks and starts probing gently.

“No,” I gasp, squirming beneath the unusual feeling, and I feel that fucking damned smirk against my skin again, before he drops to his knees and meets my stare.

“Oh, I really am about to ruin you for anyone else,” he purrs, before grabbing my hips and spinning me around. “Now, lean forward and put your hands on the tiles.”

Fuck. Me.

Being an artist, I can appreciate the beauty of many things in life. From the bright sunrise on a crisp winter morning, to the delicate flap of a butterfly's wing. Yet as I stare at ArcherfuckingGray, naked, hard, and dripping in my goddamn shower, with his untouched ass ready to be mine, well, let’s just say I have found a new muse to fucking worship.

I reach out of the shower blindly, no doubt spilling water all over the floor, until I can feel the top drawer, ripping it open and pulling out a fresh bottle of lube. Uncapping it, I keep my focus on his perfect fucking body, as I lean forward and run my tongue from the top of his ass crack down, making his whole body shudder in response. My mouth aches for a taste of him, and I do it again and again, kneading the muscles of his ass with my hand, before spreading his cheeks apart for me, and watchingin delight as the shower water drenches every delicious inch of him.

Fuck, look at that perfect fucking hole.

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