I was hotter for him than I could remember ever being for anyone as he humped against me. I pushed my thigh between his, butting it up nice and firm under his nuts, and he rode that fucker until I was ready to cream my pants. From his sounds, he wasn’t far behind.
“Take me to your room.” I drew back long enough to speak before fucking his mouth with my tongue.
I could practically read the decision-making process in the split second it took him to comprehend that request. If we stopped, something might interfere. If we stopped, he might have to do something that would remind me of his condition. If we stopped, he might lose sight of his resolve to just go with it, heedless of the consequences, and begin policing me again.
He wanted to let go so fucking badly, and he didn’t know how to do it safely.
“No, this is hot, being out here.” He ground against me harder. I let go of his hair and growled my irritation that he’d come down on the dangerous side of the fence. I planted my hand on his chest—the other still delving into the back of his jeans—and pressed him hard against the tree. It took a second of me not moving for him to open his eyes, but I wasn’t going to do a damn thing more until he did.
When I had his attention, I asked, “Is there anything you need back in your room to keep you from being hurt?”
I could feel his frustration, but I wasn’t going to back down. Finally he pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No. Unless I get injured, I’m fine here.”
I didn’t double-check. If I wanted him to trust me, I needed to show some trust in turn. “Good,” I gritted, and pulled my hand out of the back of his jeans to rip at his belt and fly, roughly jerking them open.
“Fuck,” he groaned when I wrapped my hand around his cock and began to stroke. “Yeah, like that. Oh God, please . . .”
“Christ, I could come just listening to you beg. Don’t think I’ve ever had anyone who wanted it as bad as you, even when you’re holding back. Turns me on. Tell me what you want, baby,” I muttered, panting against his ear.
“Just . . . God, please don’t stop . . . Please. Please.” He was already quivering. For my own part, I could feel tension pulling everything taut, drawing my balls up and making my ass clench as he pushed into my grip. I rolled his foreskin over the flaring ridge of his cock, rubbing past his frenulum. The look on his face was sublime. That look told me it felt good. Incredible. Agonizingly intense. I had to eat the sounds he was making.
My mouth covered his the second before he began spurting into my hand, staining his clothing and mine. I swallowed his shout, groaning an encouraging response. Afterward, I held him up until his knees were willing to support him again, sucking and nibbling on his lips while he caught his breath.
“Jesus, you’re every bit as hot as I knew you’d be,” I whispered beside his ear. His hands skimmed over the shirt covering my back—and I wanted them on my skin—while I plunged my hand into the back of his jeans again, groping freely. I wriggled a finger down his crack, teasing at the wrinkles around his hole. “Take me back to your room. I want to fuck you.”
“No. No.” He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, drawing me into another hard kiss. His lips were swollen and hot. “Don’t want to ruin this. Just let me . . . let me . . .”
He sank to his knees, and I felt him flinch. Something had happened, and he wasn’t going to tell me.
This was it. This was my chance to show him I could look after him and keep him safe without destroying the heat and momentum we had going.
He was already leaning in, nuzzling at my crotch, fumbling with my fly, but I pulled him back by his hair far enough that I could see all the way to the ground. Beside one of his knees, half-hidden by last autumn’s decaying leaves and crispy pine needles, there was a sharp stone. I was willing to bet he’d come down on it when he knelt. Ouch. That would have hurt like a bitch even for someone whose joints weren’t in danger.
I swept it aside with my foot, safely away from any possibility of him landing on it again, and cupped his face, working my thumb between his lips. His eyes fluttered shut while I controlled his mouth, invading it.
“Yes or no,” I murmured, fucking his mouth with my thumb. “Does that knee need attention right now?”
I drew my finger back long enough for him to answer, trailing saliva down his chin. A flash of indecision flickered across his face, but I thought he landed on the side of truth. Or at least I was going to treat him like he had, trying to build that trust we needed.
“No,” he said levelly. “I’ll just need to infuse later.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but since the second objective here was to demonstrate that we didn’t need to lose the heat and intensity, I didn’t inquire. I reached down and jerked my fly open.
“Good. Then suck my dick.” I thrust my jeans and briefs down my hips with one hand, and gripped the back of his head to pull him in toward me with the other. Oh God, his mouth was as hot and eager as I knew it would be, like he couldn’t live without the weight of my cock on his tongue. He slid back and grasped me, moaning, stroking firmly. I slid my hands through his hair as he rubbed the head of my dick against his face. My pre-cum smeared his cheek while he breathed deeply, like he was trying to wallow in my scent.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded. He licked a wet stripe up the length of my cock, and I moaned.
Words? What are words?
Then he backed off and rolled his eyes to look up at me. I saw the reflection of the moonlight shining on his tongue when it darted out to flick the head of my cock. “And say what?”
Another stroke of his tongue while he considered the question. There was too much intensity behind his request for me to assume he just had a thing for dirty talk. He’d wanted me to talk to him last night as well, on the dance floor. That meant something, and maybe I could get an idea of what he was after if I pushed him on it.
Of course, thought was getting harder the longer he had his mouth on my cock.
“What do you want me to say?” I prompted again.
“All the not-nice, dangerous things you had in mind for me last night.” He wriggled the tip of his tongue against my slit, collecting a salty droplet. “Please.”
I closed my eyes to block out the sight of him with my dick to his lips, or I’d never be able to make sense of what he was asking for. The sensations were almost more than I could handle as it was. He worked up and down the sides of my cock, licking and wetting it, doing everything except taking me into his mouth. Teasing.
He wanted rough. Dangerous. Brutal, even. But clearly he thought he couldn’t have it with someone who knew about his physical condition. He was both right and wrong, but that was beside the point.
Did he want the words to supply the brutality he didn’t think he could get physically? Was that what he needed?
That, I could do. I tightened my hand in his hair.
“Suck it.” I didn’t quite pull on him, but I definitely applied some pressure. “Suck it, you bitch.”
“Fuck, yes.” His moan was so grateful, I almost shot off right there. He obeyed, plunging down eagerly, taking me deep and sucking hard. His response was so ardent I knew I’d unlocked an important element to figuring out what he needed.
“Oh, is that why you’ve been holding out on me?” I panted, thrusting until he grabbed my hips to stop me. He wasn’t okay with letting me fuck his throat. All right. Noted. But the verbal humiliation? He was all over that. “You didn’t want me to bend you over and drill you in the ass until you’d gobbled it like a back-alley whore first.”
He nodded, groaning around me.
“I can do both,” I scoffed, which made him suck even more enthusiastically. His face was a study in rapture, trapped somewhere between humiliation and exultation. “I can do things to you that you can’t even imagine. I can stuff you with a dildo the size of your forearm, lock your cock in a cage, and fuck your face until I come down your throat. Then I can bend you over, whip you till you scream, and shoot anot
her load up your ass. You’d pass out with my cum in both ends and my marks on your skin, and then I’d wake you up in the middle of the night and do it all over again.”
Okay, so I wouldn’t be doing some of that without a fuck-ton of negotiation first, but right now the fantasy was what mattered. Geoff moaned abjectly, the sound vibrating around my cock. God, I wanted him to take me deeper, so fucking deep. And he seemed to want to; he was pushing himself right to the edge of deep-throating me before backing off, like he wanted to choke on my dick. We’d be having a conversation later about what was and wasn’t safe in that regard.
But now wasn’t the time, not when he was moving frantically, sucking and licking as hard and fast and deep as he could. His hands rested on my thighs, where a tremor settled into my muscles the longer he worked. It didn’t matter that the fantasy I was spinning for him was unsafe. It was just that: fantasy. He loved it, I could tell. He wanted to lose himself in it.
“You want that, don’t you? You want me to mark every inch of you with bruises and welts, to feed you my cum every chance I get. You want me to make you beg and scream and cry, and then mark you again. Don’t you?”
He hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard, and whimpered an agreement. I pulled on his hair, jerking his head back. My cock slipped from his mouth with the pop of a vacuum seal breaking.
“Don’t you?”
His pale eyes glittered as he looked up at me, and I wished I could make out his expression better. I wanted to read all his most desperate desires, and promise to give him all the things he thought he couldn’t have. I gave him a slight shake by his hair. “Answer me, you whore.”
“Yes.” He resisted my grip on his hair, yearning toward my dick again. “I want that. Want all of it.”
I let him suck me down, working frantically, words failing as my groans got louder and my trembling got stronger. My body started to lock up, my cock swelling until Geoff’s jaw was stretched as far as it would go. I felt the pressure of his tongue against the vein on the underside of my cock as he refused to pull away, and I fell into it.
“Fuck!” I shouted and flooded his mouth with my spunk. He swallowed, moaning like it was fucking ambrosia.
When I began to soften, he tucked me away and rose, grimacing. As much as I wanted to slump there against the tree and enjoy the afterglow, he was favoring that knee.
I kissed him again, gently this time, my tongue stroking inside his mouth and tasting myself. I lingered at making out with him, not wanting to break the spell prematurely or too abruptly. But I subtly held him so that he was off-balance, putting more of his weight on the leg he hadn’t hurt and on the support of my arms.
Finally I eased out of the kiss, gentled him through his breathless panting before I helped him right his clothing.
“Come on,” I said quietly, going for calm and matter-of-fact. Something that wouldn’t make him feel fussed over, but would make it clear that I wouldn’t tolerate him neglecting his well-being just to get off. “Let’s go check out that knee.”
Geoff
The last thing I wanted was to end this hookup with Robin watching me infuse. I bent to pick up my jacket, feeling a sense of genuine regret. The knee that had hit the rock was really hurting. It was a bruise rather than a joint bleed, but I’d have to do my prophy as soon as I got back to the room, just in case.
I could only imagine what I’d look like if he got me into the light. His kisses hadn’t been gentle there in the beginning, and I hadn’t infused in days. I could disregard caution, but not self-consciousness. There was no way I could leave these woods without him seeing. And yeah, I’d told him about my hemophilia, but while he knew it in the abstract, I wasn’t ready for him to see the reality.
“I can handle it.” I caught my lip between my teeth, feeling how puffy it was. Fuck. “Look, I’ve got some boundaries about this shit, you know? I don’t blame you for being frustrated. Honestly, I’m not sure why you keep trying.”
“Why?” He pulled me to him, and I swear, the moment our bodies made contact, it was like an electric current arced between us. “Because of this. Because from the very first time I touched you, I knew I had what you wanted, and you sure as hell have something I want. Don’t think I can put a name to it—chemistry, I guess?—but it’s there. Can’t you feel it?”
“Yeah, I can.” I’d known the instant he’d pressed up against me the night before. If I could stop feeling like a freak about my hemophilia, I could have him. “But tonight’s not a good night for it. Can’t we enjoy what happened without going into that now? Please? Give me your number. I’ll call you, I promise. I will. I’ve got plans with Jace during the day tomorrow, but maybe after?” I gave him a questioning look.
He looked back, giving me a long, level stare, then shook his head. “No deal. I can walk you back to your room, or I can carry you, but I’m not leaving until I’ve seen that knee for myself. That’s my boundary. If a mishap happens to someone I’m hooking up with, I don’t bail until I know it’s handled.”
I gritted my teeth. “That is the most autocratic, heavy-handed, domineering—”
Robin shrugged casually. “Not so much a dom thing as a decent-person thing, if you ask me.”
He wasn’t moving, and the night was getting colder the longer we stood there. Finally I sighed and stomped (as best I could, because, you know, knee) back toward the trail. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“Listen,” he said, falling into stride beside me. “There are certain responsibilities I take seriously. I make sure the people I play with are safe and healthy. All your particular medical issues do is redefine what that means. But I’d do it no matter who you were. You want to be treated like anyone else? Well, guess what? This is how I treat everyone I play with.”
His words were brusque, but he said them with a shrug and a smile. He was a bull in a china shop, yeah, but he was a good-natured one. And, damn him, it did help to hear that he wasn’t treating me differently than he would anyone else.
That didn’t mean I was going to let him watch me infuse. I stopped him at the door to my cottage. “Jace is inside, or he will be soon if he’s not back yet. I’ll be okay from here.”
Robin looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Oddly, though, the way he chose not to argue said he wasn’t surrendering so much as he was picking his battles, and that felt good. Like I didn’t want to win this fight. What the fuck was that about?
“I’m going. But you and I need to sit down and have a talk.” He held out his hand. “Give me your phone. If you don’t call me, I’m going to come find you.”
I dug my phone out of my pocket and passed it to him. “I will. I swear I will. Tomorrow.” Hell, if he’d wanted, I’d have called him tonight. As long as it was sometime after I’d infused. Hopefully the bruises from our tryst in the woods wouldn’t be too shocking. “Thank you. Have a good night.”
He nodded and returned my phone, stepping away from the door. “Yeah, you too.”
I backed into the cottage, hesitating, so damn tempted to issue the invitation he wanted. I wanted to believe this reluctance was the voice of my injured self-esteem talking, and that if I did ask him in, it wouldn’t be as bad as I feared.
In the end, I chickened out and closed the door.
And immediately had second and third and even fourth thoughts. I stared at my phone and the name he had entered. Robin Brady. He probably hadn’t even reached his car yet. I could still call him back . . .
No. I needed to infuse and I wasn’t ready for him to see that. I tucked my phone in my pocket and gave up on the idea of inviting him to return.
I had pushed my knee to the limit, but it hadn’t turned into a bleed, thank God. I gathered up my supplies: the factor in the refrigerator, the sterile water, the alcohol swabs and tourniquet and butterfly needles. It was a lengthy process, gently mixing the factor with the water, filling the syringe, locating a vein without too much scarring, and inserting the needle with practiced ease.
Jace retur
ned to the room, flushed and sweaty but alone, as I was putting everything away and cleaning up. He took one look at my face and blinked.
“Have a good time?” I asked mildly.
He snorted, his dark eyes dancing. “Not as good as you, apparently. How long since you did your prophy?”
I closed my eyes and hung my head, laughing softly at myself. “Um, I think it’s been three days. Maybe four.”
Jace sighed. “Okay, I’m not your fucking babysitter, but come on, dude.”
“I know. I just can’t seem to get into the habit of remembering to do it every other day. Hemo kids nowadays grow up with that routine, but I didn’t.” I was courting a lot more trouble than I needed to by forgetting. The reduction in spontaneous bleeds that came with having factor levels approaching normal meant, among other things, far less joint damage early in life, less arthritis later on. But acquiring the habit and following it with diligence was only part of my problem.
I was tired enough of my own bullshit to admit that was an excuse. The fact was, each time I infused, I was conceding that I was different. That I couldn’t function normally without my medication. Instead of accommodating that reality, I lived like I had when I was a kid—restricting my activities, favoring injury prevention over prophylaxis.
I crossed over to the sofa and stretched out on it, curled up on my side. After watching me for a beat, Jace urged me up and sat down, letting me lay my head on his lap. He smelled like sex, but then I probably did too. I was tired, both from the sex and the sleepless night before, and I was feeling absurdly fragile. I’m not ashamed to admit I can be a cuddler when I get to that place, and Jace is mellow enough to indulge me. For all that he was younger than me, in some ways he felt like the doting older brother I could pour out my heart to. Maybe because he always saw so much and nothing seemed to put him off, so there was nothing I couldn’t say to him.
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