Jason’s fingers slipped on his knees and he changed his grip, thighs falling higher. Owen’s gaze rushed over him, from head to toe to centre. Empowering, seeing Owen visibly shiver, reach for his cock and tug like he couldn’t help himself. Rip open the lube and dollop some on those large blunt fingertips.
Jason rocked on his arse, the cool air and that wanton look stirring him silly with need.
“I got you, sweetheart,” Owen said, and cool gel met his opening, a gentle slide down. The tip of a thumb teasing the rim.
Oh hell. More of that.
“P-please.”
Owen swore, and it was satisfying to feel his fingers shake as they pushed into him. Tiny movements, over and over. Slowly, God so slowly, slipping in further. A merciless tease.
A whine, “Owen.”
Fingers grew frantic, and they both groaned. Jason slammed his head back on that pillow—
Wet, slick heat slid over his straining cock; Jason let out a cry and dropped his knees as he bucked up into the intense feel of Owen’s tongue and tight, squishy throat. The sting and stretch of slippery fingers came in and out of him deeply now, and he loved the juxtaposition. Both ends of the piano playing at once. He pulled Owen off his cock and surged up, kissing those raw lips. “More?”
Owen kissed him with slow, measured control, lips locking, tongue sliding into him like a prelude to what was coming. Oh God, deep, like that. Yes.
Fingers disappeared and there was a crinkle of foil.
Owen pulled out of the kiss, dark eyes blackened with arousal. “Jerk yourself while I sink into you.”
He grasped Jason’s knees, bringing them to rest against his shoulders. He settled close, so close. Closer than Jason had imagined, and it added a layer of intimacy between them he hadn’t expected. He was throbbing and needy, a little flushed from the exposure of it all, and now the air thickened and awareness crept over him.
Owen shifted forward, and the slick end of his cock nudged a billion nerve-endings.
Jason sucked in a shivery breath. It felt . . .
He’d never done this with a man before. He’d begged Owen to be the one to show him what it could be like. And Owen, so obliging. In the hottest, most controlled way imaginable. Jason had told him just to plunge in, but Owen held back his own pulsing pleasure to open him carefully.
Considerate. Thoughtful.
Jason looked away, gravity swooping around his chest.
Owen steered Jason’s chin back.
Their eyes met, and Owen pushed inside him.
His hand trembled on Owen’s shoulder. Owen gasped, muscles straining as he held himself steady, slowly, inch by inch, stretching him, filling him.
“God, you feel . . . so tight. So good around me.”
The rawness of his words, the intense pleasure over Owen’s face. Jason wanted to give him more, to take every inch of him in. Wanted to service every wish Owen had of him.
The thought had him rock hard, lifting his hips to help Owen slide deeper.
Oh God. Oh God.
He clenched, feeling . . . feeling obscenely full, taken, needed. The desire in Owen’s eyes, the slackened jaw, the rolling eyes.
His heart banged against his chest.
Owen rocked.
A clash of cymbals.
Music behind his shuttering eyes.
He sang out a moan.
Owen dipped down and kissed him, then pulled himself out and made Jason sing again.
It was different from any other sex he’d had. Owen’s shifts hit a place inside of him he’d never felt before. The nerves at his ring. Those magnificent ones inside . . . He had to let go of his cock or he’d explode.
He was right to ask for everything right away. Too delicious. Another stratosphere of pleasure. He’d want this over and over.
Owen set a relentless pace of powerful thrusts that made music of him. Moan after moan. His whole body prickled, on fire. He threaded fingers through blond hair, banged his heels against the contracting muscles in Owen’s back.
Gravelly, awed, “Look at you, Jason.”
Jason lifted his head. Owen was large over him, rippling muscle sheened with sweat; his cock appeared, a long fat shaft, and disappeared inside him. That was . . . Was . . .
“So good.” Jason grabbed Owen’s face and kissed him eagerly. He wanted more. He was high on it. Like he could never get enough. “Are there other positions? Can we try them?”
A groan, and another thrust into him. “You never bloody cease to surprise me.”
Nothing could be as surprising as this. “Maybe on my knees with you behind me?”
Owen pulled all the way out and lightly slapped his arse. “Turn around, then.”
Jason scrambled onto his knees; Owen palmed his hips, thumbs spreading him, and sank into him with a grunt. Oh. If the angle wasn’t intense enough, Owen overloaded his synapses by draping his warm body over his cool back and kissing the rising hairs on his nape. He stayed cocooned around him like that, just cocked his hips back and forth in shallow thrusts.