Page 106 of Knot That Serious

“I think this is all for you,” Beckett purred. “Being used, whenever I want.”

More like whenever Jack wanted, but Beckett was playing into the fantasy. They both knew Beckett would give him whatever he needed.

Jack shivered, shaking a tear free, a soft moan trailing from him. Beckett pat his hair and brushed the tear track away. “Shh.”

Beckett studied him, in the mirror as well as the real thing. “You look so good on your knees for me, not touching yourself, waiting,” he said softly.

“A perfect, little, pet,” Beckett breathed, cock sliding over Jack’s tongue with every uttered word. The weight of the building wave was suffocating, making his breath catch and his thoughts stutter. Nothing… nothing could top this, this revelation they were having in the fucking clothing store.

Beckett was quickly losing his focus, anticipation running thick through his veins as he fucked Jack’s mouth, stomach tightening as Jack finally lifted the hand from his thigh to grip Beckett’s hip, encouraging the rhythm. He’d left red lines behind.

The sight, the sloppy sounds of Jack’s throat, and the tight squeeze around his knot finally caught up to him. His pace stuttered, Jack moaning a soft, quiet encouragement.

“Swallow,” Beckett had half a mind to say before the balloon popped, ecstasy flooding him the same way he flooded Jack’s mouth, spilling down his throat.

Beckett’s hand squeaked against the mirror, and it reminded him to watch the reflection. He couldn’t get enough of the sight, seeing Jack take him.

Jack cupped his hand tighter around Beckett, pulling every last drop of him out and onto his tongue.

His knees were shaky as he finally pulled away, Jack’s mouth slick and swollen and red in his absence. His tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip, chasing Beckett’s taste.

He dropped to his knees in front of Jack, framing his jaw with both hands, meeting his gaze.

Jack looked well-fucked; there was no way past it. “Shit,” Beckett breathed. “That was so… you look so…” Beckett growled softly as he leaned forward, claiming Jack’s mouth, tasting the remnants of himself on Jack’s tongue.

“That was perfect. You get an A for the entire course,” he whispered against Jack’s mouth.

Jack chuckled softly, sounding half-drunk, and dropped his hand to his—

“No, no,” Beckett said, stopping him with a firm hand around his wrist. “We don’t have time. They’re probably already suspicious.” He wiped a thumb across Jack’s lips, waiting for his reaction.

He watched the realization settle, that Jack was going to have to wait, to sit with the arousal thrumming through him—unlike Beckett, who still felt the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through his system. “Can you wait, for me?” Beckett asked gently, giving him an opportunity.

His eyes flared as if in challenge, before falling into the soft look Beckett was growing utterly fond of. “Yes,” he simply said.

Once Beckett was certain Jack would be good, he took great care to dress him again. His eyes fluttered shut, a hiss falling from his lips, as Beckett circled his cock and tucked him away in his boxers, behind the waistband to conceal his arousal as much as possible. It was a good thing Jack was wearing a larger shirt. He let it hang free instead of French tucking it like normal.

“I know, baby,” Beckett cooed. “We’ll be home soon. Just hold on until then.”

“Can’t believe this was my idea, and I’m the one suffering,” Jack whispered, when words were apparently possible again.

“But think of how good it will be when we get home.” Beckett teased. “We won’t have to be quiet,” he promised.

Jack’s face flushed, and he waved a hand at the door. “Well, let’s get a move on, then,” he grumbled.

Beckett’s lips twitched, and he cupped Jack’s cheek before kissing him, a chaste gesture of adoration. Then he combed his hands through Jack’s hair in an attempt to make it look like he hadn’t been gripping it for dear life just moments ago.

“Alright. I think we can get out of here safely,” he decided, and grabbed his suit. “Hold that in front of you,” he said, handing Jack his own clothes.

Jack took the cover gratefully, and Beckett wanted to worship at his feet as a reward for listening so well.

He walked alongside Jack as they made their way to the register with their decisions.

Jack was dutifully quiet, and Beckett only glanced at him a handful of times during the transaction. Beckett paid and took the bag, feeling like he’d pulled off something of a heist by the time they walked through the automatic doors.

“Guess my date idea wasn’t so silly after all, was it?” Jack asked, smug in the afternoon sun.

Beckett slid his arm around Jack’s waist, brushing a thumb under his shirt. “I think I see the appeal now.”

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