Page 80 of Diamond Ring
Jake: I appreciate you being respectful of my boundaries or whatever
But come disrespect me
With it, a photo, his hand around himself in case his meaning wasn’t clear. No response for a solid minute. Alex might have fallen asleep or might—Jake’s stomach sinks—be talking with someone else. Someone who he doesn’t have ten years of fucked-up history with. Someone easier than Jake.
Alex called him “high-maintenance.” In Jake’s experience that’s just another way of saying both too much and not enough. Not his best thoughts, and he tries to cast them off and instead just strips out of his shirt so he can pretend to sleep.
A knock at his door a minute later, the soft rap of knuckles. Alex, through the peephole, and Jake has the door open before he can think about it—and is promptly shoved against it when it shuts.
Alex looks pissed off, even for him, body pinning Jake to the door, the notice about New York state hotel tax rates digging into his back.
“We can’t do this,” Alex growls. A statement at odds with the press of Alex’s thigh between his, the weight of his forearms against Jake’s shoulders, holding him in place. “You don’t get to do this.”
Jake gives him the same wide-eyed look he might aim at a reporter, the pretty-boy dumbass expression Alex claims he hates, and he’s saved from saying something likeI wanted you to come choke me, romantically, when Alex shoves his fingers in Jake’s mouth.
It’s different than he was before, none of the carefulness of their first time at Jake’s apartment, or ten years ago. Alex fucks his mouth with his fingers, and grinds his thigh against Jake’s cock, and Jake absolutely and one hundred percent isn’t going to come in his boxers, but he might, and he missed that too, that on-edge feeling like all it would take is Alex’s breath in his ear to wring him out entirely.
Especially when Alex withdraws just enough of his hand to wrap his thumb and last two fingers around Jake’s throat. “Good?” Alex breathes.
If it got any better, Jake might hover off the hotel room carpet.
“You don’t like something, you tell me,” Alex says. “I mean it. Don’t let me think everything’s good when it’s not.” He relaxes his hand just enough that Jake can gasp out a hoarse “Okay.”
Alex’s hand tightens again, not enough to restrict his airflow, but enough to feel it, the boundary of fingers against his larynx. He sucks in a breath, and Alex smiles, nudges Jake’s cock with his hip.
“You good for a minute?” Alex asks.
Jake inclines his chin. Because he feels like he could stay hard for hours, even if he knows it’s probably a fleeting window. That good feelings like this never last, no matter how much he wants them to. Another flexion of Alex’s hand, and Jake wants to stay pinned like this, on edge, and come immediately. Wants a hundred things they missed in ten years apart, the things he’s discovered about himself with a faint tinge of regret they didn’t get to discover them together. “I want to fuck,” he says.
Alex’s smile intensifies. “How?”
“Hard.”
“I kinda figured.” Said with a flash of heat in his eyes. “These walls are pretty thin.”
“You worried whoever’s next door’ll hear us?”
“More like people on the street might hear you.”
“Wow, Angelides, ambitious.”
“Jake, shut up and get on the bed.”
Jake does, stripping off his boxers, rolling onto his back, the chilly hotel air eliciting goose bumps on his skin. A dip on the comforter as Alex drops the container of lube next to him. “Get yourself ready.”
“You just going to sit there and watch?”
“No.” Though he doesn’t elaborate.
The lube is viscous and slightly cold, a necessary relief, and Jake’s grateful he carries most of his height in his legs, because otherwise twisting to do this can go from hot to undignified. Still, the angle’s not as good as it could be, and he thinks about begging for Alex’s fingers or his mouth, when Alex slides next to him, clothing shed other than his shorts, the same clinging black ones he was wearing in the picturesMikesent all those weeks ago.
“You look good like this,” Alex says but makes no move to help him, palming his cock through his shorts with distracted interest.
“I’d look better facedown on the bedspread.” And Jake knows he’s being petulant, and wants to be, wants the hard clamp of Alex’s hand at his neck, and his cock in his ass, and to not think about anything but the orgasm that’s too soon over the horizon.
Especially not when Alex shifts closer, pulls down the waistband of his shorts, and takes a fistful of Jake’s hair in his grip.
Jake abandons doing anything other than rolling toward him, sucking him and humping the bed, his thoughts banished to somewhere beyond the double-paned hotel windows, a frantic kind of quietness that makes control difficult.
