Page 20 of Wildfire

He was meticulous and efficient in his preparations—less about pleasure, more about getting the job done. And fuck if Hermes didn’t get even hotter at the impersonality of it. Wilder was going to use him, and Hermes whole body was alight with anticipation.

His fingers disappeared, but only for Wilder to roll on a condom, line himself up, and pierce Hermes’s body with the thrust of his cock. Air punched out of him as Wilder rocked into him again, gripping his hips.

He thought it was going to stay like that—Wilder holding him down, away, just interested in the part of him that he could sink into. But then his hands slid up, under him. One pressed against Hermes’s chest, hauling him back. His shoulders pressed into the firm muscles of Wilder’s pecs. Honestly, what kind of professor—?

Oh fuck. Sat up on just his knees, Wilder thrust into him so hard he couldn’t have kept his balance if not for that hand on his chest.

That hand that slipped higher, closing around his throat in a firm, but not painful, grip. Every smartassed comment in him died them.

Absolutely shattered, Hermes whimpered, turning his head to get a sidelong glance at the man above him. Wilder was gorgeous, out of breath and flushed. His brow puckered, and Hermes couldn’t tell if he was angry or focused. The stubble on his jaw was almost invisible, but for how the gold in it caught the light.

Absolutely aching, he stroked his own cock hard and fast, and with the walls of his throat pressed down tight, he came on a desperate gasp, spilling all over Wilder’s silk sheets. Fast, too fast. Butfuck, he couldn’t help it.

Above him, Wilder paused. His thumb stroked the corner of Hermes’s jaw. The gesture was almost tender, the furrow of his brow concerned.

“You done?” Hermes asked, his voice a rasp of a whisper.

Wilder shook his head, and damn if Hermes couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“Keep going,” he pressed the professor. “I can go again. Keep going.”

Being a god came with its perks, and one of them was that he didn’t tire easily.

Wilder seemed shocked at it, but he didn’t stop. He was gentler now, riding his body, his hand coming to rest against Hermes’s collarbone, curved gently around the base of his neck instead. Hermes didn’t mind the roughness, but when he turned his head and Wilder kissed the corner of his lips, he sobbed.

Wilder’s other hand, free to roam, knocked Hermes’s out of the way. The man grunted, surprised to find Hermes still hard as steel, the heat of it all overwhelming.

Hermes didn’t try to hold back when his breaths came ragged. He let his moans heighten in pitch, his whimpers absolutely shatter. Hermes took such pleasure in ruining Wilder’s pristine perfection; let Wilder know he could do the same.

Mindless and overwhelmed, Hermes came again to the rough, quick jerk of Wilder’s hand and the feel of his incredible cock buried deep inside him. If the shattered moan above him was anything to go by, the hand that clutched at Hermes’s chest with hard, splayed fingers, Wilder followed soon after.

Hermes collapsed on his front the moment Wilder let him go, and Wilder rolled to the side, gasping. For a moment, they were silent.

For once, Hermes didn’t know what to say. He’d had plenty of sex, but the kind of passion, the desperate need, that overflowed from Wilder the second he let go was something else.

“You got a guest bed?” Hermes asked once he caught his breath, pushing up on his forearms to look over at the man. Sweat slicked, still panting, he looked too fucking gorgeous. Hermes had to remind himself that Wilder wasn’t a god, needed a minute to recover, and that crawling into his lap was asking way too fucking much.

Slowly, Wilder rocked his head back and forth.

“Guess we’re bunk buddies then.” He rolled over, dragging Wilder’s blankets and sheets over his body as he curled toward the edge of the bed.

Within seconds, Wilder’s weight shifted behind him. He leaned over and shook Hermes’s shoulder. “We need to change the sheets.”

Gods, this man was pristine.

Hermes only grunted.

Annoyed, Wilder huffed. “You are not already asleep. You won’t convince me otherwise.”

He gave Hermes’s shoulder another heavy shake, putting his weight into it this time.

With a huff, Hermes flopped onto his back and looked up at the man. Damn, but he didn’t mind that sight—Wilder, all smooth skin over gorgeous muscles, the displeased moue of his lips, his unkempt hair.

Hermes sighed, but a smirk crossed his lips. “Fine. Get up.”

Affronted, Wilder blinked at him.

“Up.” Hermes commanded.

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