Page 56 of Gideon
“I’m waiting.” He seems somehow to have changed. He’s firmer and more autocratic, with an arrogant tilt to his head that makes my blood run fast. But at the same time, he’s still Eli of the warm eyes and soft mouth who makes me feel safe with him.
“You’re bossy,” I mutter, pulling off his hoodie and the T-shirt underneath and letting them fall to the carpet unheeded. “God,” I mutter, tracing my fingers along the body revealed to me. His chest is wide and hairless, his nipples dark brown discs. I rub my finger roughly over one, watching it rise and pebble. I do the same to the other and he groans.
“I’m still dressed,” he murmurs, and I smile slowly before reaching for the waistband of his joggers. I pull them down, the elastic catching on the heft of his cock before I lift it out and push the joggers down his legs. I gasp when I see his cock. He’s erect and huge, and unable to resist, I step closer and grab it gently. My hand barely reaches around him as his cock thumps into my palm. The head is wet and slick, the smell of pre-come acrid in the air and making my mouth water.
He pushes into my palm and I tighten my fist, running my other hand down his ribs and tracing the bones while he shudders and snorts. The laughter dies as I trace the grooves of his pelvis. Then I let go of his cock and bring my hands around to cup the firm globes, feeling the soft, small hairs tickle my palms.
I mutter a protest as he pushes back. “No,” I say harshly.
I want to touch him, and I watch feverishly as he kicks off his joggers, leaving him completely naked.
He looks at me, his eyes dark and his breathing rapid but the ever-present humour still there. “Gid, you’re topping so much from the bottom you’re practically vertical.”
I snort and shake my head. “I’m used to being in charge.”
“Not with me,” he says somewhat arrogantly, and I feel my breathing speed up. “Let go, Gid. Let me take care of you.”
“Yes,” I say softly, feeling my muscles turn hot and liquid as chocolate, melting with the need to be manhandled, despite my brain’s protests.
“Turn round,” he says harshly. “Rest your hands on the wall and stick your arse out.”
I comply, waiting for the embarrassment to hit me at being so vulnerable. Instead I cry out as a sudden red-hot flash of pain shoots across my arse.
“Did you justspankme?” I squeak, sounding like an eighty-year-old spinster.
He chuckles, the rich sound in my ear making me shudder. “I did. There’s a nice handprint on your arse, Gid.” He rubs it gently, and I moan in my throat as a wave of nerve endings spring to life. I force my arse backwards and he grabs it, palming the globes roughly.
There’s a rustle, and then I cry out as he spreads my cheeks open and licks a rough swathe from the back of my balls up to my hole. “Oh fuck,” I choke out, my voice garbled as he returns to the puckered opening and suckles it gently before pulling back and licking it with rapid catlike licks. “Oh,” I breathe. “It’s so good. I never knew.”
He pulls back. “You’ve never been rimmed before?” His voice is soft but there’s a rough demand underneath it.
“No. I never let anyone. Too close.”
“Too close to the real you,” he says. “Well, I’m close now, Gid, so how do you feel about that? I think I’m the closest to the real you that anyone has ever been. Am I?”
I look back and down, drowning in the heat of his gaze, and I capitulate to the demand in his voice. “You are,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because you slipped through, and now I don’t want you to go back.”
“You’re mine,” he says deeply and something in me – some barrier that’s always been there – cracks and the layers start to peel open.
“I want that,” I say hoarsely.
“I look after you now,” he says. “That means I’m in charge in here and you let go. You let everything go, because you’re safe with me.”
I send my fingers down and rub them over his square chin. His lips are full and swollen. “Yes, I want that,” I say wonderingly.
He nods and kisses my fingers affectionately. “Turn around, then,” he demands. “Let me have you.”
The waters rush through and the barrier breaks and I shudder, turning to the wall and pressing my face into the plaster. I cry out as he returns to my arse, eating and sucking and licking at the pucker, the sound of slurping dirty and base in the quiet room.
I push my arse out to him even more and cry out again, as there’s the sound of a tearing of a packet and then a slippery finger rubs over my pucker, tracing the wrinkled opening before pushing in slightly.
“Oh fuck,” I choke out. “Ohfuck.”
“Relax, Gid,” he says, the command in his voice making me release my hands from the fists they’ve clenched into.
