Page 17 of Heart of Glass

Thunder echoed through the forest as the sky unleashed in a torrential downpour, but the storm only seemed to increase Xeno’s raw, animalistic desire. Sharp claws extended from the tips of his fingers, digging into the flesh at Lachlan’s sides, but the pinch of pain only caused his swollen cock to throb as his heart pounded in excitement.

Cold, heavy raindrops splashed over Lachlan’s overheated skin, adding to the sensations that already overwhelmed him. His balls churned inside his tight sac, and his swollen, rigid cock ached to the point of pain, leaking a generous amount of pre-cum from his slit.

“Xeno, please,” he begged, uncaring how needy or desperate he sounded.

A gravelly moan met his plea as Xeno rose up on his knees and positioned the head of his thick cock at Lachlan’s greedy entrance. He started slow, rocking his hips gently and pressing in a little deeper each time. Once Lachlan’s hole relaxed and his muscles loosened, Xeno retreated, paused, and then surged forward with a hard, demanding thrust that rocked Lachlan clear down to his soul.

Coming awake with a sharp gasp, Lachlan clutched at the blankets and humped against the mattress, searching for the relief he’d been denied in his dream. His asshole clenched and relaxed, practically begging to be stretched and filled. Sweatdampened his hair and covered his skin while the muscles in his back bunched and flexed.

The dream had seemed so real, not like a memory, but as though it had actually happened right in that moment. He could still hear the raindrops as they fell against the dead leaves, feel the sting of the claw marks over his ribs, and smell the earthy scent of the forest. No matter how still he tried to be or how much he struggled to calm his labored breathing, he couldn’t pull enough air into his lungs.

“Lachlan?” Xeno rolled over to spoon behind him and slid his hand beneath Lachlan’s T-shirt to stroke his stomach. “Hey, hey, easy. You’re okay, just breathe, baby.”

His soothing voice washed over Lachlan like a cool balm, and the brush of skin against skin eased the constriction around his lungs, allowing him to suck in a deep breath. The urgency, however, didn’t fade, and instead of relaxing into the mattress, Lachlan launched himself at Xeno, attacking the man’s mouth with all the pent up desire coursing through him.

Pushing Xeno to his back, Lachlan crawled on top of him, touching every inch of skin he could reach and growling in frustration at the barrier of clothing between them. Never had he felt so out of control, so…aggressive, but it feltgood. No part of his body hurt, none of his usual pain emerged to slow him down or hold him back.

“Wait,” Xeno mumbled around Lachlan’s sloppy kisses. “Hold on.” His long, hard cock pressed into Lachlan’s hip, swollen and pulsing between them. “Are you sure?”

Lachlan didn’t hesitate, didn’t need to think about his answer. “I’m sure.”

“I’m serious.” Holding Lachlan’s face in both hands, he searched Lachlan’s eyes, clearly looking for the truth. “There’s no going back, so be sure.”

Taking hold of his wrists, Lachlan pulled his hands away and dipped his head for another breath-stealing kiss. “I’m sure,” he repeated. Perhaps the dream had ramped him up, but he’d wanted Xeno from the moment he’d set eyes on him at the café. “I want you, Xe.”

“I like how you say that.” Then Xeno pulled him into another deep, passionate kiss.

Lachlan had never been comfortable in a more dominant role, and though he’d instigated that first kiss—quite aggressively—he didn’t have the experience to lead them forward. Taking control didn’t suit him, and he acknowledged that, but he didn’t need to lead, not with Xeno.

Lost in the melding of their lips and the twining of their tongues, Lachlan didn’t realize they’d moved until his back pressed against the mattress. Xeno mapped his body with strong, capable hands as though committing each swell, curve, dip, and ridge to memory. With skill and efficiency, Xeno hadthem both undressed in a matter of seconds before returning to his exploration.

A wave of self-consciousness tightened Lachlan’s gut as Xeno licked and nibbled down his stomach. He hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since the accident, and his anxiety spiked as his insecurities came rushing to the surface. “Wait.” Grabbing hold of his shoulder, he tried to pull him back up his body, but Xeno refused.

Shaking his head, he continued nibbling his way down Lachlan’s body until he reached his right hip. Tenderly, almost reverently, Xeno brushed his lips across the puckered scars from Lachlan’s surgery, following the line all the way down to his knee. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he reversed his trek along the same path. “Don’t hide from me. You should be proud of these scars. Something horrific happened to you, but you survived. I think that’s pretty damn special, not something to be ashamed of.”

Without giving Lachlan an opportunity to refute his claim, Xeno licked a slow path along the length of his shaft and swirled his tongue around the head of Lachlan’s dick. Capturing the bulbous crown between his lips, he tongued the weeping slit before dropping his head, taking Lachlan’s cock to the back of his throat.

Indescribable pleasure assaulted him, causing him to arch up from the bed with a loud, gargled moan. As Xeno created a rhythm, bobbing his head in long, slow strokes, Lachlan’s toes curled, his lower back tightened, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Just as he approached the edge of climax, though, Xeno abruptly stopped and rolled away from him.

“No,” he gasped, tangling his fingers in the sheet and squirming as the chilled air breezed over his spit-slicked shaft.

The scraping sound of the nightstand drawer sounded over Xeno’s quiet laughter, followed by the snick of a bottle cap. “Patience, sweetheart.”

Lachlan didn’t want to be patient, though. He wanted relief, preferably in the form of an earth-shattering orgasm. In the beginning, he may have been a bit cautious, but now, he’d fully committed himself to reaping as much pleasure from their tryst as Xeno could give him.

“Hurry.”

The mattress dipped when Xeno returned to kneel between his splayed thighs. “You are most demanding, Mr. MacAuley.” Sliding two slick fingers between Lachlan’s cheeks, he ringed the starburst twice before pushing inside, pumping the digits deep into Lachlan’s channel. “Are you feeling neglected? Am I not giving you enough attention?”

His confident movements and teasing tone sent Lachlan’s lust into overdrive, which only increased his impatience. As Xeno’s long fingers thrust into his ass, sawing in and out in a quick tempo that lit up every cell in his body, he would have begged, pleaded, or bargained for release. The pressure in his sac built, though, squeezing his aching balls, and Lachlan found he could no longer form intelligent speech beyond one-word requests.

“More.”

“Hush.” Xeno’s tone morphed from playful to tense, as though speaking through clenched teeth, and his actions suddenly became jerky and uncoordinated. “Just let me take care of you.”

The guttural quality of his voice triggered a memory, a recollection from Lachlan’s earlier dream, and he pried his eyes open to peek up at Xeno. At first, he didn’t know what to make of what he saw, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him. Just like in his dream, though, Xeno’s eyes shined with a golden, ghostly light, and sharp, pointed canines extended below his upper lip.

“Don’t be afraid.”

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