Shortbread and Shadows - Amy Lane Page 0,40

that spread now. “Mm.” He popped the head in briefly, savoring Bartholomew’s moan, and then backed off.

“Your balls?” Another lick, this one digging into the base, slightly beneath, and letting Bartholomew’s unsatisfied little grunt prod his own arousal up past nine again.

“Lower?” he teased, parting Bartholomew’s cheeks, exposing his crease, blowing softly. To his pleased surprise, Bartholomew grabbed his thighs, spreading himself shamelessly, as needy and begging as Lachlan had ever seen a boy.

Lachlan chuckled and sucked on his finger, then circled softly. “C’mon, Tolly. Need your words.”

“Gah!” Bartholomew wiggled, ass still spread. “Touch that—penetrate it. And your mouth… on my… oh God, please suck me… my cock…. Lachlan, it’s like magic…. It’s making everything tingle and—”

Lachlan grinned and decided to disobey orders just a little. He paused and gave Bartholomew’s entrance a lick, and Bartholomew’s keen of desire went straight to Lachlan’s own groin.

“Yes! No! But God, yes!”

He licked again, not hard, knowing it wasn’t enough to pitch Bartholomew over but enjoying the burble of orders, begging, and curses that came from his mouth as Lachlan rimmed him.

He got lost in his work, in Bartholomew’s pleasure, until a wail of frustration split the air.

“God, Lachlan, please, please, fuck me or blow me! I need!”

Lachlan pulled back, his own body in freefall from self-denial, his face wet with his own spit.

“Both,” he murmured, so saturated in desire it was like sex lightning could issue from his fingertips, his tongue, his cock, at any breath. He shoved up on the bed and engulfed Bartholomew’s cock, pushing until his lips met the tickly hair at Bartholomew’s groin. At the same time he slid one finger inside, stroking the loosened rim, and then another, in rhythm, until Bartholomew arched off the bed, crying out in orgasm as he blew come down Lachlan’s throat.

Lachlan swallowed, again and again and again, pumping his fingers smoothly in his tight channel until Bartholomew fell back against the bed with a whimper.

“Uncle,” he muttered feebly, and Lachlan gave a strained chuckle against his thigh. “C’mere,” Bartholomew told him, and he wiggled upward on the bed, the drag against his swollen cock an agony of stimulation. They kissed, and Bartholomew smiled, dreamy and sated and wicked.

“My turn?” he asked, and Lachlan gave him a wicked smile back, reaching into the drawer on the end table and coming back with a small dildo and some lubricant.

“Use this,” he said, loving the spark that came into Bartholomew’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Tolly, we have so much to cover, you and I. Soon you’ll be fucking me over the kitchen table before I return the favor, but for right now, stretch a little, then fast and hard while you suck me.” He shuddered in anticipation. “God, please.”

It wasn’t the sensations that took over his body that he remembered after that—it was Bartholomew’s eyes. They’d gone half-lidded as he lost himself in sucking Lachlan’s cock, and then wide and alert as he checked for a reaction. He bit his lip in study as he drizzled slick on the toy, and locked onto Lachlan’s eyes as he thrust it in.

Lachlan, who usually simply lost himself in sex and allowed himself to be pleasured, was suddenly an active participant in a passive act.

Bartholomew needed his attention, needed his feedback, needed him to be present, even when Bartholomew’s mouth fulfilled its every sensual promise on Lachlan’s cock and his tentative thrusts with the dildo threatened to send Lachlan into outer space.

It was like every partner he’d had before had led him to this place, where he could stay with Bartholomew and walk him through pleasuring someone during lovemaking. It was like tilting his head back and gasping, thrusting his cock into Bartholomew’s mouth and telling him how good it was, how perfect his touch, was the reason he’d ever had sex in the first place. It was an amazing way to make love, and when Lachlan finally let go and launched, he went knowing that he’d taught Bartholomew everything he knew about catching your partner and guiding them back home.

When he came back to earth, practically dizzy from climax, Bartholomew was next to him, face buried against his neck as he caught his breath.

“So good,” Lachlan managed thickly, taking the toy from Bartholomew’s hand and setting it on the end table. He stroked Bartholomew’s sweaty back and nuzzled his temple. “You and me, together, we’re so good.”

Bartholomew raised glowing, happy, wicked eyes to Lachlan’s, that shy smile gracing his lips. “We are, right?”

“Oh God yes. Tolly, it’s not like