to flag just a little, began to stiffen again. “More. More, I want to feel it.”
For a second, he worried Julian wouldn’t be able to hear him, but then he felt the press of another finger, and before he could beg again—a third. Julian spread them as far as Archer could take it, and the pain was a lot, but not enough. He wanted to feel devoured by it—by touch, both soft and sharp. He wanted to sink in the moment, unable to forget where Julian held him.
“Do you like that?” Julian asked, his voice hoarse.
Archer nodded his head frantically, fucking backward on Julian’s hand and his head spinning because Julian let him—meeting him thrust for thrust. He only dared a single glimpse in the mirror, a flash of himself on the verge of fucked out, and Julian staring at him like he was a solar eclipse, before he had to look away because he was going to spill right there. He bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to slow his movement.
“I need you. Please.” He lifted his hand and hoped Julian was watching, circling his flat palm over his chest.
Julian’s fingers slipped out with a squelch, and Archer let out a small whimper, but he wasn’t empty for long. There was the crinkle of the condom wrapper, and the last bit of lube squeezed from the little bottle, and then Julian was there.
His hands, tacky from sweat and lube, gripped Archer by the hips. The head of his cock pressed against his hole, stretching it as he pushed in—just enough to spread him. The sting shot up his spine, and he let out a heavy grunt and clutched the sheets so he didn’t move. He wanted Julian to fuck him, to take him, to possess him. He wanted to be pliant and owned.
Julian seemed to understand, maybe from his silence, or from the expression of utter and total desperation on his face. Or maybe, even after these short moments together, Julian simply knew him. Whatever it was, he got it. He ran a flat hand down Archer’s spine, trying to soothe him, and when his trembling began to ease, Julian gave a hard fuck forward.
All of Archer’s breath rushed out of him, and before he could gather it back, Julian pulled out almost entirely, and thrust back in. Archer heard his own cry, an echo in his ears, and his head started to dip between his shoulder blades before Julian had him by the hair.
“Watch,” he growled against the back of Archer’s ear. He let go, but only to wrap his arms around Archer’s torso and lift him so he was seated on Julian’s thighs. His cock pressed deeper than anyone had ever been, torturing his prostate with the rough nudges as Julian circled his hips. His body was flush, from neck to stomach, and his hands clutched the tops of his thighs so he didn’t reach for his dick.
It stood rock hard, red, precome dribbling from the tip. If he felt any friction at all, he knew he’d let go, and he wanted this to last.
“I love this,” Julian said. “You look so good like this.”
Archer nodded, his head lolling back against Julian’s shoulder, and it gave the other man perfect access to his neck. He was kissed first, then Julian bit down lightly before soothing the spot over his thrumming pulse with his tongue. His hands moved down to Archer’s waist, urging him up, slamming him down. Archer stretched further for him, his legs so wide the sides of his feet touched Julian’s. His hips ached, his arms were shaking, and he never, ever wanted it to end.
“Look at yourself,” Julian said.
Archer was only just brave enough. He opened his eyes again and stared at their reflection in the mirror, at Julian’s dark, almost dangerous eyes, the flush in his cheeks, the way one of his hands dug into his hips hard enough to dent his skin, the other lashed around his torso to hold him steady.
“I think I,” Archer said. The words were coming, unwanted, unwelcome, even if they were full of truth.
Julian’s eyes closed and he nodded, then kissed along Archer’s jaw. “I know. But…later.”
“Yes,” Archer said. “God. Fuck me, make me feel it.”
So Julian did. He forced Archer back to his knees, the angle just right as he snapped his hips and made Archer take every inch of his length. It was like he was pressing pieces of himself in there,