by May Archer
“Lay on your stomach,” Cain said huskily.
Damon raised one eyebrow, but complied, pushing himself up so his injured leg was supported by the bed. He twisted his neck so his eyes stayed on Cain’s face.
Cain hastily stripped off his own shirt, and threw it on the pile with Damon’s… but something about the sight of it there made him pause. His shirt tangled with Damon’s, his life tangled with Damon’s… God, he wanted that.
He shook his head to clear it. What he had was right now, and Damon willingly at his mercy for a second time.
He grabbed the lotion and pumped some into his hand, enjoying the clean scent. He rubbed his hands together to warm the liquid, then climbed onto the bed next to Damon’s leg.
The first press of his fingers had Damon groaning lavishly, his back arching, and Cain had to focus to keep his massage slow and steady. He gently but firmly kneaded the muscles of Damon’s lower leg, taking care with the pink scar tissue, and then slowly moved up to the larger muscles in his thigh. It occurred to him that Damon’s other leg had to ache, too, from carrying extra weight all the time, so he pumped out more lotion and rubbed that leg also. When he got to Damon’s ass, he paused. Although Damon didn’t say a word, Cain could sense the electric hum of anticipation in the air.
He bit his lip and decided that waiting would do the man good.
Cain crawled up the bed and lifted a leg to straddle Damon’s waist, then pumped out more lotion and began his massage again, this time at Damon’s neck, smoothing his hands down the expanse of Damon’s back and shoulders. He loved the way his pale arms and the dark ink of his tattoos contrasted with the honey-tan of Damon’s skin. Damon had freckles, too, just like the ones he’d noticed on Cain, and Cain resisted the urge to trace them with his tongue.
He’d do that next time… if there was a next time. He forced the sad thought out of his mind.
He moved lower, digging his knuckles gently into the small of Damon’s back, and Damon moaned again, pushing his hips into the mattress.
“Lower,” he whispered, his face muffled by a pillow. “Lower, Cain.”
Bossy. Even buck naked and flat on his stomach.
Cain’s fingers did knead lower, almost like they were responding to Damon’s command without Cain’s authorization. He toyed with the skin beneath the waistband of Damon’s boxers, then pushed the fabric down three inches until just the top curve of Damon’s ass was exposed.
Damon’s back rose and fell with each intake of breath as Cain’s hands found the dimples at the base of his spine. Cain smiled just a little, feeling his face warm.
He loved the sounds Damon made, the way his muscles tensed and clenched in pleasure, even as Cain loosened them.
And the biggest turn-on of all? Damon wanted him. It was true and obvious. There was no ulterior motive for him to be in this room - in fact, he showed faith in Cain just by being there.
He lowered Damon’s underwear further, and Damon lifted his pelvis slightly so Cain could reach around and pull them down completely. His fingers lightly brushed the tip of Damon’s erection - no longer only half-hard, but lying fully formed against his belly, thick and pulsing with heat - and Damon hissed in pleasure.
“More. More, Cain,” he demanded.
Trust the man to try to take control, even with Cain straddling his back. Cain’s lotion-slicked fingers gripped his cock more tightly and Damon thrust into his fist once, then twice. But Cain smoothed his hand up over Damon’s hip and eased him back down to the bed.
“I haven’t finished your massage yet,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper. His own cock was rock hard behind his jeans.
He pumped the lotion again, this time directly onto Damon’s naked ass, just so he could enjoy the way Damon shuddered and hissed at the coldness.
“You’ll pay for that,” Damon threatened, but it wasn’t any kind of a threat.
“Yeah? I can’t wait to see how you’ll make me pay,” Cain teased, his voice husky.
Cain’s fingers glided through the lotion, smoothing it over Damon’s hot flesh, before he kneaded the firm muscles of Damon’s ass. He moved lower and lower, spreading Damon’s cheeks apart. And then he brushed one slick finger over Damon’s entrance.
Damon froze.
They hadn’t discussed anal sex. Cain knew some guys weren’t into it at all, especially when it came to receiving, so he slowly and carefully ran just his fingertip back and forth over the sensitive skin, before moving even lower to cup Damon’s sac and play with his balls.
“H-higher,” Damon said, and Cain blinked.
“What?”
“Higher,” Damon instructed, no hesitation in his voice this time, and Cain’s breath came faster.
Oh, fuck, yes.
He moved his finger higher, rubbing his finger slowly over Damon’s taint, and then further back, toying with his ring.
“I…” Cain began, but his voice came out as a reedy squeak. God. He swallowed and tried again. “I bought condoms. At the pharmacy. And lube. Other supplies besides the bandage stuff. I just thought maybe you… and we… but I mean… I expected I would bottom, and I can… if it’s what you want,” he concluded in a rush, biting his lip in embarrassment. Had he assumed too much?
“Cain?”
“Yeah?”
“I swear to God, if you apologize to me for something else right now, I’m going to…” He paused, like he was thinking of an appropriately dire consequence. “I’m going to hold you down and make you listen to classic rock all night.”
Cain smiled, the frantic butterfly-winged thrum of his heart settling into something slower and deeper. Damon’s rough voice was garbled, like he was drunk on pleasure, pleasure Cain was giving him. And in the face of that, Cain’s doubts vanished.
Well, most of them.
He could count on one hand the number of times he’d topped, and most of those had been a lifetime ago. Before Jack. Back when he and Jesse…
No. Those memories had no place here.
He trailed his fingers down Damon’s ass once more, then lifted himself off the bed, taking care not to use his injured arm. He grabbed the little pharmacy bag with lightning speed and upended it onto the bed. Two packages of condoms and a little tube of lube spilled out, right next to Damon’s naked leg, and the sight made him pause for half a second.
Concentrate!
He shucked his shoes and the remainder of his clothes, then climbed back onto the bed to crouch beside Damon.
Shit. Fuck. Damon’s leg. He bit his lip and thought for a moment, considering the logistics, vaguely aware that Damon had twisted again and was watching him.
A large, long-fingered hand came to rest on his thigh. “Cain?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop thinking.”
Cain lifted his eyes to meet Damon’s gorgeous hazel ones.
“I mean it,” Damon said. “This is fine. This is perfect. I want this.”
“But your leg…”
Damon turned over all the way and sat up. His golden skin gleamed in the weak light from the single fixture mounted over the table. “My leg is just fine. Better than it’s been in a couple of days, thanks to you.” His voice was warm, and his hand trailed up the inside of Cain’s thigh, making Cain shiver.
He wrapped his other arm around the back of Cain’s neck, a move Cain was already coming to think of as Damon’s signature hold. And just like it always did, the small claiming steadied something inside him.
“Kiss me,” Damon said, and Cain blinked. Damon’s hand at his neck was so warm, and his clever fingers trailed up and down Cain’s leg - closer and closer to his erection, which had flagged just a little thanks to his worry, but was now raging back to life once more. “Stop thinking and just kiss me.”
So Cain did, leaning forward into Damon, letting his hands spear into the long strands of Damon’s hair. Damon’s hand on his thigh moved to his back, pulling their chests flush, and then Damon sank back down onto the bed, pulling Cain with him
.
All of Cain’s rational thoughts, all of his doubts, burned to ash in the fire of their kiss. Damon let him take charge - there was no doubt in Cain’s mind that it was intentional on Damon’s part, that he could have grabbed control at any moment, but he was giving this to Cain.
Cain stretched out fully atop Damon, bringing as much of their skin as possible into alignment, and he thrust their cocks together. They moaned into each other’s mouths, and it was glorious. Damon’s hands roamed across Cain’s back and over his shoulders, like he wanted to claim every inch he found, and Cain pushed himself harder into Damon, as though Damon could somehow take him over completely.
Damon, Damon, Damon.
No other thought in the world, no other star in the sky.
The simple friction of their bodies was the greatest pleasure Cain had ever imagined, but he was driven by the idea that he needed to make this as amazing as possible for the man beneath him. Without breaking their kiss, he fumbled for the lube on the other side of the bed. He pulled back for just a second and opened it - Christ, what were they thinking when they designed these packages? Did they really think people had time to mess with this shit? - then he drizzled some into his palm.
Damon had lifted up onto his elbow and was watching Cain, his eyes glimmering with amusement and something harder, something hotter. Want.
Cain leaned over him again, smearing the lubricant over both of their cocks, before gripping them together in his hand. He looked down, and the sight almost had him spilling himself then and there.
“Oh fuck.” Damon’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Not enough. I want your skin on mine. Get down here,” he growled, pulling Cain down by the neck.
Within seconds, Damon was hipping up, fucking Cain’s palm. “Jesus, Cain,” he hissed. “It’s too good. Too good.”
No such thing. Not for Damon. Cain moved his hips even faster, squeezed his fingers even tighter.
“No!” Damon growled. “Stop!”
It took Cain a second to process the words, and in that time, Damon pushed him gently back. “Not like this,” he growled. “I want to come with you inside me.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Those words, in that tone of voice.
He sucked in a deep breath and sat back, his knees next to Damon’s thighs. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed with shaking hands, and Damon lifted his hips so Cain could slide the pillow beneath him. He reached for the lube once more, giving Damon one last questioning glance - Are you sure?
Damon’s response was to widen his legs, bending his good leg until his foot was flat on the bed, giving Cain unrestricted access.
Cain shuddered as he squirted lube onto his fingers, onto Damon’s ass… so much lube, possibly too much, but Damon didn’t seem to care, so Cain wouldn’t either. He dragged his finger across Damon’s pucker, and while Damon was still gasping at that sensation, he pushed his finger inside.
“Fuck,” Damon said, his ass clenching around Cain. He was so hot, so fucking tight, and Cain was almost a tiny bit jealous of Damon. He couldn’t wait for Damon to do this for him. But in the meantime, he was determined to blow Damon’s mind.
Cain drizzled more lube, added another finger. Damon’s neck bowed and his fists clenched at his sides.
“More,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Another one, Cain. Now.”
God, the look on Damon’s face. Cain added a third finger, bending his knuckles slightly as he withdrew, and Damon’s back arched off the bed. “Fuck, yes!”
One of Damon’s fists uncurled and traveled up Cain’s thigh, to his cock, pumping slightly. “Fuck me, Cain. Please. Now. Don’t think, just do it.”
Cain whimpered, biting his lip as Damon’s thumb glided over his slit, spreading the moisture over the head of his cock.
What was he doing? Fuck. Fuck! Condom, right.
He grabbed the little box and liberated a foil-wrapped packet, but before he could open it, Damon’s hands were there, tearing it open and rolling it down Cain’s erection. He grabbed the lube, too, spreading a copious amount.
“Go slow,” he instructed. “But fuck me now, Cain. Please.”
Cain nodded, his eyes locked on Damon’s as he crawled into position. He fucking loved that Damon was still so in control, that Damon was guiding him. He didn’t have to worry about what Damon wanted or whether this was good.
But at the same time, he couldn’t wait to make Damon lose his mind. He lined himself up with Damon’s hole and pushed forward just slightly. Just enough to make Damon freeze. Then he leaned forward and captured Damon’s mouth in another frantic kiss.
“I’ll do it when I’m goddamn ready, Damon,” he teased.
Then he pushed forward again, grunting as he felt Damon tense… and then relax.
Holy shit.
“Christ, Damon. You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he gave several more tiny thrusts, until he was seated fully inside.
Damon didn’t reply - it seemed he couldn’t. Cain opened his eyes to find Damon’s head thrown back, his mouth open, his eyes tightly shut. “Damon?” He panted and held himself still.
A second later, Damon opened his eyes and lifted one shaking hand to Cain’s face.
“It’s been a long time,” he growled. “And I… I forgot.”
Cain braced himself above Damon, elbows locked, and fought to keep his body still and his mind on Damon, when every instinct in his body told him to thrust hard.
“Forgot how fucking good it could be,” Damon said. His voice was slurred and warm with lust. His hands locked around Cain’s waist, then trailed back to cup his ass, pulling him forward. “Do it, Cain.”
Cain pulled back, nearly to the tip, then sank back into Damon with one smooth thrust.
He couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe Damon was giving himself over this way. He had no idea what the next day would bring, or what the future held for them, but this moment was incredibly perfect. He simultaneously wanted it to last, and wanted to race to the finish.
Damon didn’t give him the choice. “Harder,” he yelled, his fingers digging ten tiny bruises into Cain’s ass, marks he hoped he’d still have in the morning, just to remind himself this hadn’t been a dream. “Harder. Give it to me, Cain. Give me everything.”
Cain was helpless against the curl of need that threaded through Damon’s voice, helpless against the tidal wave of hunger that swamped him. He pumped his hips harder and harder, wanting to imprint himself on Damon, to take possession of him as surely as Damon possessed him.
Damon’s hands splayed out, grabbing at the pillow above his head and squeezing it tight. Their rhythmic panting breaths were curiously aligned. Cain felt a bead of sweat fall from his forehead and land on Damon’s chest, mingling with Damon’s, and it felt incredibly erotic and so fucking right.
He reached down for Damon’s cock, wanting to ratchet his pleasure up even higher, and Damon cried out at the sensation. It only took two fast pumps, and then Damon was coming, his seed spilling out all over his stomach and chest, making a sticky mess between them.
Fuck, yes.
Cain lowered his chest to Damon’s, then reached out and grabbed Damon’s hands, threading their fingers together.
It only took a second before his own release hit, and he cried Damon’s name when it did, his vision whiting out and his muscles seizing as he came, and came, and came, filling the condom inside Damon.
Holy. Hell.
Utterly wrung out, he collapsed fully atop Damon. Without thinking, or even overthinking, he laid his head in the crook of Damon’s shoulder, his ear directly over the pounding of Damon’s heart.
He floated like that for minutes or hours or eons, before sensation penetrated the beautiful, white-noise hum of his brain and he had to reach down and deal with the condom as he pulled out.
“Sorry,” he said as Damon winced.
He tied off the condom and threw it in the bucket next to the bed before resuming his position ag
ainst Damon, who hadn’t moved. It was so serene he wanted to… fuck!
Damon slapped his ass, one firm crack that rent the stillness.
“What the hell?” He lifted his head to find Damon’s eyes twinkling.
“No more apologizing for shit that doesn’t require apologies. Understand?”
Damon grabbed the back of Cain’s neck and pulled his head down again, nestling him even more firmly into the curve of his neck.
Cain bit his lip and smiled. No more apologizing. He really, really liked the sound of that.
Chapter 15
The autumn leaves skittered across the road in the morning sunshine when Damon flicked on the directional. Another road, another switch-back, another way of trying to confuse the men the senator had sent after them - if they were still after them at all.
Still, this morning, Damon couldn’t bring himself to mind taking the long way. Not when he had Cain next to him in the passenger seat singing along to the radio. Not when his ass was still pleasantly sore from last night. Not when he felt stronger and more positive than he had since before the crash, like he could almost see a future where the senator was in jail and he was free to resume a normal life.
He glanced over at Cain, who had stolen one of Damon’s clean t-shirts to go with his jeans this morning, and was calmly sipping the mostly-milk-and-sweetener confection he liked to call coffee.
“You should not be humming along to this trite shit when you’re wearing a Sabaton t-shirt,” Damon said. “It’s disrespectful.”
As expected, Cain turned to glare at him. “Who the fuck is Sabaton?”
“Who are… Are you kidding me? Did you even look at the shirt before you put it on?”
“Uh, nope. Didn’t look. Also, not kidding. Never heard of them.” The brat was totally dismissive.
“They’re only one of the greatest Swedish metal bands in existence,” Damon informed him.
“Hmm. If you say so.” Cain shrugged. “I picked it because it was the smallest t-shirt you had, and I’m still swimming in it. No disrespect to Swedish metal intended.”