Page 30 of Spring Breakup
“Please, stop. I need—”
“What do you need? Tell me,” Dean demanded. His voice was a sexy, broken grumble, and Tyler could feel the slam of Dean’s heartbeat against his back.
“I don’t know. I want to come. I need more. Or less. I don’t know.” Tyler wasn’t making sense.
“Harder or softer, angel?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He loved Dean’s voice.
“I don’t know. Just do something already!”
A small laugh escaped Dean. He bit the side of Tyler’s neck, and Tyler’s eyes rolled back.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re an incredibly difficult person?” Dean’s voice was fond and tender, but those words tumbled over Tyler like sharp rocks.
He was not an easy person.
To rein in—according to his boss.
To handle—according to his mom.
To love—according to Francis.
It didn’t matter how much Rosie pumped him up with words of affirmation. It didn’t matter how many times Dean called him pretty.
The words he heard over and over again when he closed his eyes were the hurtful ones, and Dean had unwittingly stepped into that minefield.
Dean kissed his ear. “Don’t.”
“Don’twhat?”
“Don’t let whatever ugliness just flitted through your brain hurt you. I love difficult.”
Tyler’s breath caught in his throat, and the pesky emotions he’d tried to avoid for a week burned behind his eyelids. He nodded, and Dean kissed his cheek.
“I can do this hard. I can flip you over, work my fingers inside you, and make you come. It will be rough and messy. Or I can do this soft. Kiss and suck and draw the come out of you like wisps of smoke. Your choice.”
“Poetic,” Tyler quipped, but his voice broke, still affected by his insecurities and Dean’s swift, albeit temporary, victory over them.
“Hardit is.” Dean was so steady and solid in the face of Tyler’s ricocheting emotions and desires. So willing to ride them out and come out the other side.
Dean rolled Tyler over and immediately made good on his promises. He pushed Tyler’s legs toward his chest, opening him up. Tyler hated this position, hated having his legs awkwardly up and frogged out, and that hatred turned him on more because Dean wasn’t letting him squirm away.
Dean brought his fingers to Tyler’s lips. “Suck… Fuck yes, like that.”
Tyler got them as wet as possible. He knew neither of them were willing to get up and scrounge for lube, so spit would have to do, and he would need a lot of it.
Dean pressed the fingers inside fast. It was just on the right side of painful, and the moan Tyler let out startled them both.
“That’s it, Tyler. No fighting now, huh?”
“No.” Tyler dropped his legs onto Dean’s shoulders.
Dean licked around his fingers, smoothing the way for more forceful thrusting.
“Tight,” Dean murmured, his brow furrowing.
Tyler let out a strangled laugh. “What a porny thing to say.”
