Page 62 of The Company We Keep

“You’re not the boss of me again until the ribbons are off,” Dust said fondly, holding him by the base. Carrow sighed hard.

“You’re arealproblem,” he said, shutting his eyes and hipping up softly into Dust’s grip.

Mercifully, Dust pumped the cock in his hand for a few strokes before lowering his face again to lap up and down Carrow’s length, uneven and never establishing a predictable pattern.

Dust pulled out every trick he could: mouthing with flushed lips, dragging his tongue slowly, sucking and stroking in between long pauses, just to make sure everything felt good but nottoo goodfor too long. He appreciated the change in the intensity and timbre of Carrow’s noises each time he paused to roll and lick his balls.

Finally, his teasing ended. Dust fell into the sort of pattern that could actually get someone off, sucking even strokes against Carrow’s head while he twisted in time with his hand. Carrow responded immediately, moaning softly with his movements.

It was like watching seconds tick off on a wall clock, except Dust didn’t have to count the steady, licking strokes. He knew exactly when to pull off, letting his grip go slack and his mouth go soft, trailing a teasing pattern as he took his lips and tongue away completely. He knew Carrow had almost hit the point of no return. He’d built a perfect orgasm and then abandoned it to keep teasing.

Carrow sighed hard, suddenly fighting to catch his breath.

Dust let several beats pass, letting Carrow’s building orgasm become a fading memory as Carrow groaned and strained against nothing. Then he started again: firm grip, bobbing head, swirling tongue. Carrow throbbed at the first real stroke, and his hips moved imperceptibly along with Dust’s movements. Dust pulled off again after a moment, brushing wet lips against sensitive skin, and Carrow let loose a moan that tapered into a whimper.

Dust kept up the game of stop and go until Carrow’s hips rocked up to encourage him, until he was leaning hard against the back of the couch and straining against the hand Dust used to keep his hips from moving freely. Dust pulled back to pause — but when he swallowed around Carrow the next time, he hummed and dropped both hands, encouraging him to move.

It had takenCarrow time to catch onto the game.

But the reality of Dust’s gift had dawned on him by the time Dust was encouraging Carrow to fuck up off the couch and down his throat. He took full advantage, knowing that finally he’d be granted release, pressing hard up off the couch and into Dust’s throat, letting loose a gravelly groan of relief at being given the chance to take what he wanted from Dust’s mouth. It was loud and sloppy and Dust took every stroke without hesitation, letting Carrow bury himself to the hilt. Carrow went at it helplessly — couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to, Dust’s sounds spurring him on, the sight of his cock disappearing into that perfect mouth mesmerizing.

The orgasms he had been denied so far rapidly built into a throb that seemed to span most of his body. He was so close — and finally relief was in sight. Dust didn’t seem in a hurry to pull off this time. He continued to hip up, astounded that Dust didn’t seem to be in discomfort other than the awkward cadence of his breathing as Carrow stroked in — but then he gagged loud and Carrowfeltthe muscles constrict around him as he issued a broken groan, the inevitable orgasm sputtering and slowing down at the realization that he might’ve hurt the kid.

Dust’s hands flew to Carrow’s hips, pushing him back down to the couch — but to Carrow’s great confusion, even as he pressed the man down, Dustfollowedhis hips, gagging and choking on Carrow’s cock but still taking him as deep as he could, sinking and burying him more even as his hips were flush with the couch, before finally pulling off with an obscene wet noise.

It was like missing the last step on a flight of stairs.

It was worse than being denied an orgasm — it was like agoddamnedanti-orgasm, and Carrow was pulsing at the sudden lack. There was a strange sound in the room and it took Carrow a moment to register the fact thathewas the one making it: high and desperate as breath escaped pathetically from his lungs.

Dust just drank it in, holding Carrow’s hips and catching his breath, smiling and a little ragged as he observed the damage he’d wrought.

“If hands weren’t out of play, I’d be strangling you,” Carrow said.

“How’s your gift so far?” Dust teased, voice raw and raspy. Carrow squeezed his eyes shut, unable to deal with the way his hard-on bobbed helplessly at the noise.

“Horrible. Terrible. Don’t patronize me,” he said. “Your gift is a menace.”

“Hey,” Dust said, sounding suddenly annoyed and snapping his fingers. “Did I say to shut your eyes?”

Carrow couldn’t fight a smile as he opened his eyes and looked down at the man.

“Remind me, is this my present or yours?” Carrow asked.

Dust didn’t bother answering him. His grin went crooked.

It’s awful,Carrow thought,to be teased by someone who knowsexactlythe kind of power they have over you.Because, Christ: the kid was beautiful even on his worst days, and just a surreal, over-the-top wet dream when he’d been physically worked up by sucking cock.

His mouth was flushed as he sat on his heels and beamed up at Carrow, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and spit on his chin doingnothingto give Carrow any sort of relief. It was torture to rake his eyes over Dust’s body and be denied touch. And he knew just where he’d start: a palm against the visible outline of Dust’s cock, pressing against those briefs that left nothing to the imagination.

Dust’s jaw went slack as he thought, letting a hand trail over Carrow’s stomach under his shirt as he contemplated — Carrow assumed — his next torture method.

Dust was still smug and smiling when he moved up to the couch, straddling Carrow’s lap, grinding against him as he reached behind the man’s head. At last, the velvet ribbon was removed, and Carrow pulled his hands back to the front of his body. He reached immediately for Dust, but he just slapped Carrow’s hands away softly.

“You still don’t get to use those,” Dust said, sneering. “Don’t get it fucked up — no hands.”

Carrow smirked and reached out again, hooking a fingertip in the band of Dust’s briefs.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Carrow offered — and God, would he.

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