Page 47 of Spring Breakup
Tyler groaned. “Promises, promises.”
“The word has to be weird and easy for you to conjure out of nowhere.”
Tyler stared up at Dean above him. He was so gorgeous, and his consideration plucked at a deep part of Tyler’s emotional control. “I don’t know. Captain Crunch?”
Dean smiled. “Cool. Cereal. Mine’sred.”
“Red! You said it had to be weird.”
Dean just laughed and kissed Tyler’s cheek. He finally tied each end of the fabric around Tyler’s wrists and stripped off the rest of their clothes.
They’d played around with restraint, but it was always at Tyler’s mercy—Dean commanding Tyler to hold on to the arm of the sofa and not let go, Dean halfheartedly pinning Tyler’s wrists down.
Using an actual restraint that Tyler couldn’t easily game was exhilarating.
“I’d learn rope play for you,” Dean said, kissing the pad of Tyler’s thumb. Before Tyler could react to that strange admission, Dean tugged on the fabric. “Is this too tight?”
Tyler shook his head. “It’s perfect.”
Dean hummed and started his descent down Tyler’s body, giving whispery kisses to every ticklish part he could find. Tyler thrashed because he loved trying to writhe away and not be able to.
“Harder, Dean.” The softness of Dean’s mouth was making Tyler’s skin tingle. When Dean reached Tyler’s inner thigh, he bit down sharply. Tyler gasped, “Yes,” and let his legs fall open.
“You’re gorgeous like this,” Dean murmured. “At my mercy.”
“I’m not at your—oh fuck.”
Dean pressed slick fingers inside Tyler roughly, curling them hard. Tyler bucked. He was oversensitive, his body not quite ready to relax into the floaty sensations, which only made it better.
For all Tyler’s complaints about Dean’s tortoise impression earlier, Dean was moving fast now. He replaced his fingers with a curved glass wand. It was cold and harder than flesh or even Tyler’s long-forgotten silicone dildo.
Tyler’s foot shot straight out in surprise. He gave a little whimper of shock. Dean caught his ankle and kissed it gently, so at odds with the rough way he was fucking him.
“That’s it. I love the struggle, angel.”
“I hate that name,” Tyler lied.
Dean grinned and tipped the wand firmly against Tyler’s prostate. Tyler’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. He tried to move his hands to instinctively push Dean away and met resistance.
Tyler felt both frozen and turned on, torn between the too-much sensation in his ass and the too-good feeling of being tied up.
“Can you come hands-free?” Dean asked.
“What? Of course not.” Tyler knew it was possible for some people but that was surely, like, a total unicorn anomaly.
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
Dean pulled the wand out and set it aside. Within seconds, he’d expertly rolled a condom down his length and drove inside Tyler.
Tyler’s body fought it, but he craved the rough treatment, the frantic look in Dean’s eyes. He loved that Dean was so hot and bothered that he couldn’t even slow down to baby Tyler through the first thrusts.
“It’s good because I don’t want you to shoot without warning. Now”—Dean planted his fists beside Tyler’s restrained arms—“I’m gonna wreck you.”
Tyler didn’t doubt it. They’d fooled around plenty, but it was the first time Dean had been inside him in that particular way. He was having trouble getting leverage to move with Dean, to fuck back, and he realized that was the point.
“That’s it,” Dean said sweetly in his ear. “You can’t move. You’re mine, so just take it, Ty.”
