Page 25 of Vanish Into Light

It was not a hesitant or gentle kiss. Becket’s hand closed around his throat, and the other gripped his shoulder, hard, shoved him back against the tiles. His mouth crashed down onto Lance’s, and his tongue thrust for immediate entry.

Again, Lance could have struggled, but he gasped instead, and Becket – Christ, no,Beck– devoured him, plunging deep with his tongue, slanting his mouth over Lance’s and biting at his lips, just hard enough to feel the nip of the fangs, but not hard enough to break the skin.

Blood rushed to Lance’s cock; his pulse throbbed until it seemed to fill him, until he was nothing but his own heartbeat. He let himself get pinned back against the tiles, and be kissed in a way he’d never been kissed before.

It was like leaping out of a helo without a parachute. Like his first firefight. Like every terrifying thing he’d ever done: the adrenaline rush, the sense that he might die.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose – and kissed back.

They warred a minute, lips, and teeth, and tongues; Beck was stronger, but Lance could feel him give ground, again and again, until they had a rhythm going; felt his lips form a smile, before he dragged a fang along Lance’s tongue and drew blood.

Lance reached up and gripped his horns – but couldn’t budge him.

Beck drew back on his own, laughing, delighted, his smile impossibly wide. He licked blood off his lip and purred like a big cat. “Ooh, I knew you’d be wild. Iloveit.”

Lance was panting, their chests pushing against one another, wet, slick skin sliding against slick skin. Their cocks were rubbing together, trapped between them, just enough friction to have him desperate for more.

He tried to lean in again, but Beck’s hand tightened on his throat. “No,” he said, clucking. “Now it’s time to be a good boy.”

“You–”

He was gripped and spun around effortlessly. The hand at his throat grabbed the back of his neck and pressed his face into the tile. Beck’s other hand closed on his hip, tight, claws pressing into flesh, and angled his pelvis back away from the shower wall.

Panic speared through him. “Donot.”

“Oh, hush, soldier boy. I’m not going to fuck you until you ask for it. And trust me.” He pressed in right behind Lance, draped over him, so he felt the hard, hot length of his erection against the cleft of his ass, and the heat of his breath in his ear. “One of these days, you will.”

Then the hand at his hip slid forward and gripped his cock.

“Oh.” It was like all the air got punched out of his lungs. Beck’s grip was tight, and sure, squeezing just this side of too much. He gave one long stroke, and pressed his mouth to the side of Lance’s throat when Lance’s hips kicked forward in helpless reaction.

Beck gave another stroke, Lance chased it, and the hand lifted off the back of his neck. Shifted around to his front, stroking over his chest, his belly; back up to tweak at each of his nipples in turn.

“Oh. Oh, God.” Why did this feel so good? Why was every nerve firing like lightning?

“There,” Beck purred, and kissed his throat; licked it. He shifted in more firmly behind him, and rutted forward on his next stroke, his cock sliding along Lance’s cleft again, pushing him forward. “That’s it.” He dragged his fangs up and down Lance’s galloping pulse. “Good boy.”

Stroke. Thrust. Stroke. Thrust. They built a new rhythm that way, until Lance was helpless but to chase it, fucking into his fist while Beck rutted big, and hot, and shameless against his ass.

“You…fucker,” Lance panted. He rolled his head so his forehead was against the tile, and he could look down through the steam to watch Beck’s clawed fingers tugging his nipples; watch his long-fingered hand working his cock with ever-quicker strokes. “You fucker…I hate you…fuck you.”

“You can if you want,” Beck said, without hesitation, and thrust against him hard. Lance could feel the slide of pre-come, slipperier than the water. Could imagine it all too easily, the sight of Beck’s cock parting him, pushing against him, dragging over sensitive skin until starbursts were crowding his vision.

Beck moaned. “Oh. Oh, that’s – are you close, baby? I’m close.” Another hard thrust, one that left Lance’s forehead bumping the tile.

He brought his arm up to brace against, teeth gritting, pressure and pleasure mounting. He couldn’t believe this. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was, and it was perfect, and he needed to come.

He realized he was making choked-off, desperate little sounds.

Beck stroked him faster, faster, faster–

And then he was coming like a freight train. He shouted – he couldn’t help it. His cock kicked and spurted, and he watched it all, though his vision threatened to give out.

Beck gave a few more hard thrusts behind him, and then, through the incredible wash of pleasure, Lance felt the hot splash of his release at the small of his back. He could only brace his hands on the tile, arms shaking, and blink back the starbursts that orgasm had wrought.

He felt drunk. His head was pleasantly empty – no questioning, no doubt, no hate or fear. Just the blissful, floaty feeling of having come really hard, every part of him buzzing faintly.

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