Fix It Up (Torus Intercession 3)

“Yeah,” I admitted under my breath.

“Then we’re back on the same page,” he murmured, his hands on my T-shirt, lifting it over my head and off. “Now, take off your boots and your socks, your jeans and your underwear, and lie down on the bed.”

“You have people to––”

“After a fight?” He almost choked on the words. “You expect me to leave you after a fight?” His brows furrowed. “That’s not going to happen. That will never happen.”

“You came here to see these people and film a documentary and write your album, and I’m distracting you, and that’s not––”

“I swear to God,” he said, chuckling suddenly, his eyes glinting in the moonlight, “your superpower is arguing. You could medal in the Olympics.”

I scowled at him.

“But see that…now…” he said, sighing. “Your ‘Nick’s annoying the shit out of me’ face, that makes my dick hard.”

“Nick––”

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, and it was soft, but I heard the demand underneath.

“You really need to––”

“Please, baby,” he husked.

The pleading tone and his eyes in the dark—I wanted to fix it, for everything to be like it was, and in that moment I felt his pull on me for the first time, my desire to have him want only me. It would become necessary if I wasn’t careful.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled off my boots, one after the other, peeled off my socks, and then stood and worked open my belt.

He came around the bed as I shoved my underwear and jeans to my thighs, and he tore down the covers before he toppled me back onto the mattress.

“Not helpful,” I teased him, liking the look on his face, all heat and need.

Gently, like he was going slow on purpose, careful not to manhandle me, he took hold of the cuffs of my jeans and pulled them off, making sure to grab my underwear as well. Once I was naked, he tipped his head, and I did as directed and rolled over onto my stomach before lifting to my hands and knees.

“Nick, you—Nick,” I moaned as he opened his mouth on the small of my back, sucking, licking, kissing up my spine to my shoulder blades, moving off me for a moment before I heard the nightstand jostle when he yanked open the drawer, not bothering to close it again, the jingling of his belt buckle next, and then the rough sound of a jerked zipper. His movement was rushed, I knew without looking because I could hear it, the telltale sounds of undressing. His hand was suddenly in my hair, turning my head until he could reach my mouth.

“I need to make something clear,” he said hoarsely before he kissed me quickly. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

I kissed him then, slowly, wanting him to feel that we were in this, at least for now, together. His response was drugging and sensual, each pull on my tongue better than the last, and I moaned loudly when he slid two lubed fingers into my ass.

Impossible to ever be embarrassed about what I wanted when Nick had already shown himself to be everything I craved, a lover who would use me, give me pleasure, but not ask permission. Younger than me, so different in every way from me, and yet, already, he knew instinctively how to treat me—like I belonged to him.

When he lifted his mouth from mine, easing me facedown onto the mattress, holding me there a moment so I understood that was where I should stay, I splayed my hands on the sheets as he gripped my hip, guiding the wide head of his cock to my hole.

“I want,” he began, his voice guttural and low, “you to sit close to me from now on so I can talk to you between songs, see you,” he said as he pressed forward, stretching me around his shaft as he filled me up, never once slowing or stopping, the breach taking my breath away; there was pain and pressure and ache and desire all at the exact same time. Impossible to say where one ended and the other began. “Because when you’re close, when you’re right there with me, there’s this amazing grounding, settling, solid thing that happens in my chest. I feel good and well and whole.”

Fully seated, his groin flush with my ass, I shivered as he stroked my sides before he took hold of my cock with his right hand and stroked me slowly, his skin slipping over mine as I strained to press forward into his grip even as I pushed back onto his cock, my muscles relaxing a fraction each time.

“Flint was saying how dark and scary your eyes are, but to me…to me…all I see is how deep they are, and how beautiful, and I need you to look only at me.”