Page 61 of The Company We Keep

“OK — your turn.”

Carrow tore into the present, and the plain cardboard box under the paper was a sharp contrast to the opulent gold box that Dust’s gift had come in. Still, Carrow didn’t look disappointed as he opened it and lifted out two lengths of black velvet ribbon.

“What are these?” he asked, apparently delightfully perplexed.

Dust couldn’t bite down his smile any longer as he took the ribbons from Carrow’s hand.

“These are the first part of your present.”

“And they’re for…?” Carrow asked, watching Dust as he stood from the couch.

“They’re so you canlookbut nottouch.”

Carrow hummed as Dust guided his wrists behind his head and looped the first velvet ribbon around them. He tied it tight, and then the second one before stepping back.

“Keep them there,” he instructed.

From the way Carrow’s eyes went sleepy and half-lidded, he clearly had gotten the idea of what the rest of his Christmas gift would be.

“Your present’s homemade,” Dust said through a crooked smile. “Hope you don’t mind.”

He began to strip, dragging his shirt off slowly.

“I don’t think I mind at all. I’ve heard I’m notoriously hard to shop for.”

Dust undid his belt and slowly lowered his pants, dragging a hand across his own groin and then stepping out of them.

“I mean, what was I supposed to get for the man who has everything?”

He took his place between Carrow’s knees. The man watched him as he took a leisurely pace in undressing Carrow from the waist down.

“I think you figured out the only thing I really wanted,” Carrow offered.

Dust held his already-hard cock gently, appreciating the weight of him and the clear bead of precum he’d be tasting in a moment. Carrow groaned into the air above him as if he could read Dust’s mind.

He started with dry lips on skin, each kiss escalating imperceptibly as more layers of stimulation came into play: pressure and noise and wetness. A silent kiss at the base of his balls, a quiet kiss against the skin of his inner thigh, a brushing kiss against the shaft. The room was silent except for them: Dust’s mouth working and Carrow breathing audibly.

Dust wet his lips and started again, following the same path with a measured pace.

And then a third round — this time with an open mouth.

At the end of this rotation, his tongue came into play in between sucking pink marks into Carrow’s thighs and then watching them disappear. When it seemed like perhaps that was all he was going to do — just kiss and worry Carrow’s skin — Dust flattened his tongue, held Carrow harder by the base, and painted a slow, broad stripe with his tongue that started at the thin skin of Carrow’s balls and only stopped when Dust had his first taste of precum.

Carrow groaned like he was in pain and when Dust looked up, the man was watching him intently. Dust basked in the moment, not afraid to play it up under Carrow’s gaze, moving the taste on his tongue to the front of his mouth and visibly savoring it before swallowing and wetting his lips again.

Carrow was flushed high on his cheeks, eyebrows knit over brown eyes that were already fighting desperation.

Dust returned to his task, spitting in his hand to slick him. At the first full stroke, Carrow’s cock throbbed againsthis palm. He twisted slowly, appreciating every plane with his fingers, careful not to establish a rhythm. He continued to stroke him unevenly as he dipped to kiss loud and wet against Carrow’s inner thigh. The man hummed and stilled, his breaths punctuated by rolling little moans that ebbed and flowed as Dust moved, reddening skin with his teeth in some places and lapping gently at others.

As his hands started to go tacky, he moved back to Carrow’s cock, stroking patterns against the shaft with his tongue until he was slick again, giving equal attention to every area but the head until he could tell that he’d pushed his teasing far enough. Then — and only then — did he mouth softly over the tip, all slick, sliding lips.

Carrow issued a soft, “Oh my God,” shifting on the couch, testing the bindings behind his head.

Dust did it again and again, taking him deeper with each stroke of his mouth until he was willing the back of his throat to relax. Carrow fell into a mantra offuck fuck fuckas Dust’s crawling pace finally had him swallowing around Carrow’s entire length, pressing the tip of his nose into the bottom of Carrow’s belly as if trying to prove a point.

As Carrow’s hips rolled up to meet him, Dust pulled off just as gradually as he’d sunk down, Carrow bouncing free and desperate.

“Jesus,Dust — do that again,” he begged, breathy.

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