Page 90 of In This Iron Ground
They arrived at Hakan’s under the fig leaf of darkness. They stepped into the still apartment, the door closing behind them, sealing them inside the black. Damien turned around to grope for the light when he jumped, startled by the reflective yellow of Hakan’s half-moon eyes.
“Oh, crap. You scared me,” Damien laughed.
The eyes didn’t blink. Hakan’s silhouette gained shape and depth as the darkness grew accustomed to Damien’s human sight. Something in Damien tensed and stilled, sensing danger.
“Hakan?” Damien whispered. His heart was the crescendo of a beating drum.
Hakan moved forwards. Slowly. Slowly, until Damien’s back was pressed against the door. Hakan’s hands came up and he divested himself of his own coat before stripping Damien of his. Damien let himself be shifted about, his arms extended one by one, the weightlessness of his stolen jacket leaving him vulnerable to the elements. He was pressed further into the door. It was disappear into it or into Hakan.
Hakan kissed him like he was enjoying a meal of prey. Slow, languid. Possessive. The want was the scent of blood in the air.
“I want to fuck you,” the darkness around Damien said in Hakan’s voice.
Damien melted into it.
He was flesh and racing heart on Hakan’s bed. Hakan’s naked mouth and naked body consumed him slowly. Each piece was left as nothing more than heat.
Damien arched as Hakan pressed two of his fingers inside. Felt their slide and stretch, the rhythm of Hakan through them.
The pleasure was a slow build. The rub of his prostate again, and again, and again, like Hakan was building a fire with care. The kindling of Damien’s bones and skin flared to life under Hakan’s magnesium eyes.
“Please, please, please,” Damien said. Hakan’s body pressed over him, the shroud of the night. The sweet feel of its attention, of its distant light.
Damien rolled onto his stomach as Hakan’s fingers slipped out. He hitched his hips up, curved his spine. Hakan’s hands gripped his hips for a moment. He kissed the base of Damien’s spine, trailing his lips up until he reached his neck. He lingered there, their bodies pressed together for a moment, the heat everywhere.
Hakan shifted, his hand reaching down to guide himself, and then he was pressing inside Damien. The thick length stretched him slowly, making Damien feel every inch.
“Yes,” Damien hissed, dropping his head down to the mattress. This was what he wanted. That feeling of fullness. Of Hakan.
Hakan moved inside him in the darkness. There was no sight. It was all scent, touch, taste. It was a build of Hakan until he was everywhere, his arms wrapped around Damien and fucking him deep.
The pleasure coalesced, gaining form and gravity until it became a pinpoint that radiated out suddenly, taking everything but Hakan’s name from Damien’s mind.
Damien was kept from collapsing by Hakan’s arms. It was only a few moments later when he felt Hakan come inside him, the hot wetness of him that dripped slowly out of his hole when Hakan finally pulled out.
It took Damien thirty minutes to convince himself to get out of Hakan’s bed so he wouldn’t fall asleep. It felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Although Damien had embraced casual sex when he first arrived at Eketon, his number of hook-ups had decreased significantly since he started having sex with Hakan. Not only because of the time he spent with Hakan, but because his desire for anybody else had dwindled in the face of what he already had.
There were times, however, when a situation aligned itself with something that Damien suddenly wanted. In these cases, he never abstained. He didn’t let any guilt or sense of disloyalty guide his actions. He had to clearly define what he had with Hakan as something separate from a monogamous, romantic relationship, lest he fall into his own trap.
Lenard was one of the few people he’d had a friends-with-benefits relationship with at the start of the school year. He’d drawn Damien in straightaway with his slightly crooked right incisor, the way he would smile unabashedly, his twinkling eyes as he tried to deadpan dry humour.
Lenard was easy to get along with, and a party found Damien and him secluded in a corner of the yard, laughing as Lenard tried to teach Damien a clapping game from his childhood.
“No!” they both cried out as they messed up after almost three minutes of synchronicity before dissolving into giggles.
Lenard took advantage of their lean towards each other to press a kiss to Damien’s mouth. Damien hesitated for a moment before returning the kiss.
They stumbled to Lenard’s dorm room half-tipsily before falling into bed together.
It was smiles and skin and the press of lips. Damien had drunk a little more than usual and was foggy with it, with Lenard’s body against his own.
Damien’s hands were above his head, for some reason. He pulled them down, but Lenard was holding them fast. No, Lenard’s hands where in Damien’s hair. Damien pulled away from the kiss, flat on his back, turning his head to the side to break it.
“What…?” He pulled again at his arms, but he could feel it now. He tilted his head and saw the shirt tying his pressed wrists to the headboard.
