Page 42 of Rarely Pure and Never Simple
Blaze pulled back to see Damien's face. "You know, for a basket-case neurotic, you're damn sweet."
"Thank you. I think." The corners of Damien's lips twitched up, so he obviously got it. Kind of a relief.
He rolled Blaze onto his back, licking at Blaze's collarbones, which was a weird hot spot, but it made him squirm and moan. Damien straddled his hips, and his lips parted as he gently, reverently pulled the lace down over Blaze's aching erection and snugged the material up under his balls. He arched, crying out softly when calloused fingers enveloped him, gliding slowly up and down his length.
"Damien…" The word was more groan than actual syllables. "It's been awhile. Don't want to come alone."
Blaze held out his arms as Damien fell into them and attacked him in a sensual campaign to make his head explode. His hands and lips seemed everywhere at once. His hips ground hard against Blaze, sliding the concrete columns of their erections together. Blaze spread his knees wide, letting Damien settle between his thighs, humping up against the hard body writhing atop him.
Damien licked along Blaze's jaw, each tongue lash ending in a quick, hard-suctioned kiss. Blaze tipped his head back for more, every touch sparking new fires in his core. He ran his hands over Damien's back, exploring the ridges of work-sculpted muscles and getting a shivery groan when he ran his fingers down Damien's spine.
Desperate for more contact, he cupped Damien's beautiful ass, kneading and separating as he pulled Damien in tight. The writhing atop him sped up, Damien panting in his ear. The pressure in Blaze's balls ratcheted up to red-zone critical, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood trying to delay his orgasm.
"OhgodBlaze!" The whispered shout in his ear held such need, such desperation that Blaze came from the sheer force of it. Damien clung to him, body heaving through his own orgasm, the little cries and moans sending shock waves through Blaze's balls.
Maybe it was all too fast. Maybe overall, technique had been severely lacking, but damn, it felt good. He lay panting, stroking Damien's back, letting him come back down on his own terms without making him move.
Damien finally shifted to the side, a frown creasing his forehead. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
Blaze lifted up on one elbow. "No. Do you expect to hurt your lovers?"
"No, but…" Damien made an exasperated sound. "You were shot in the chest recently."
"Oh, that again. I'm fine. A little out of breath." Blaze let a slow grin spread over his face. "Probably could use another shower."
The light and heat in Damien's eyes vanished, replaced by that familiar, expressionless stare. He got up without another word, grabbed a towel, and cleaned the spunk off his body.
"Damien?"
No answer, not even a shake of his head. Damien paced the room, picking up discarded clothes, folding them into neat piles and pacing off his pre-counted steps.
What did I do? We were doing so well. What did I say wrong? "Damien? Talk to me?"
He got a towel dropped on him but no verbal answer. Blaze stripped out of his underwear and cleaned up, since that's what Damien apparently wanted. His briefs were whisked away to join the neatly folded clothes and the towel likewise when he was finished with it. Through it all, he couldn't tell if Damien was angry, uncomfortable, or just going through necessary rituals.
Direct had always worked best with Damien before. "Sit down and talk to me, you little shit, or I get up and rip your head off."
Dark eyes blinked at him, Damien obviously coming back slowly from wherever he'd gone. "I'm s—"
"And if you say you're fucking sorry, your balls are gonna join your head!"
Blaze hadn't meant to shout. He was tired, though, and had been ready for a post-sex slide into sleep, so his patience was a little thin.
"I have to… it's just…" Damien's voice was breathy and thin, a sharp contrast to the demanding, husky purr of a few minutes before.
With a weary sigh, Blaze sank back on the mattress one arm over his eyes. "Do what you have to do, Twitchy. I'm sorry I yelled. I'm not gonna move."
Stupid, Emerson. Real classic. Something had set Damien off, and he had to go through certain steps or break down in an anxiety attack like the one he had in that first hotel room. Blaze yelling at him probably meant he had to start over.
He listened to the rustling, the barefoot pacing, and Damien's tortured breathing for a good five minutes. Eventually, the wheezes settled down to long, careful breaths and then to more normal respirations. The mattress dipped beside him, and he dared to take his arm down.
"Better?"
"Yes."
"Did I do something to set that off?"
"No."
