Wow, had he been off.
“Will you let me? Can I?” Tobias’s words were slow and heavy, almost like he was drugged. Tobias’s hands were slow and heavy too, as they worked his zipper down, hesitating again to give Sullivan a chance to protest, and then, when Sullivan didn’t, they tugged his dick out through the opening in his boxers, and God, that felt good. It’d been more than a year since he’d known a hand other than his own, and it was such a simple touch, an easy, too-dry brush of skin on skin, but Sullivan’s spine went liquid all the same.
“Let me?” Tobias whispered. “I want to. I...want to give you something, I need—” He stopped, looking confused and frustrated and searching.
Letting himself be guided by an instinct that had gotten him in trouble more than a few times, Sullivan reached down and tunneled one hand into those romantic curls, taking hold and tugging, hard enough that it would hurt.
Tobias’s eyes slipped half-closed and his breath shuddered out. “Yeah, that’s... I need... I don’t...”
Holy shit.
Tobias might not know the word for what he needed but Sullivan did. He’d heard subs talk about the ravenous emptiness that echoed inside them sometimes, the desperate need to give, to serve, and the way it became vital to everything they were in that moment.
If there was a Dom alive who could resist a sub in that headspace, he’d never met them.
“Fuck,” he said, and eased Tobias forward. Tobias showed no sign of disliking Sullivan’s regulation, instead pressing his face against Sullivan’s hip, breathing in, mouthing at the skin, nuzzling the crease of his thigh. His fingers tightened around Sullivan’s dick, giving it a couple of idle pulls, and then Tobias was taking him deep.
Too deep, actually, because he jerked back and coughed. “Easy,” Sullivan bit out, and Tobias leaned in again, his tongue working eagerly, his mouth wet and hot, and sucked hard, and oh, this wasn’t going to take long at all.
They hadn’t talked about limits or preferences or even a safe word, and Sullivan was probably the shittiest Dom in the world for going ahead with this anyway, but in his defense, it hadn’t been clear they’d need them until his dick was already out of his pants. He shook his head once, trying to clear it, and guided them into a shallow, slow rhythm despite the impulse to use Tobias’s mouth like it was his, to push and shove until he was practically in Tobias’s damn lungs, to watch Tobias’s eyes tear.
Sullivan had to keep it together, because it was one thing to suck off a guy you barely knew in his firetrap of a house, it was another thing to let that guy fuck your mouth like he’d paid for it. There were degrees to how shitty Tobias might feel about this later, and Sullivan didn’t mind pissing off someone screwing him over, but there was a damn ravine’s worth of distance between that and fucking someone up sexually.
Tobias apparently disagreed. His hands went up to close on Sullivan’s where they were in his hair, gripping hard, the question in his blue eyes sharpening into a demand as they stared up at him, and Sullivan thought yep, okay, he wants this, this is actually happening.
Sullivan tightened his fingers and pushed forward into that impatient mouth once, a test of sorts. Tobias closed his eyes, let his hands fall to rest on his own thighs, and made a sound of such wrenched, hungry gratitude that Sullivan stopped worrying about how his interpretive skills were functioning.
It didn’t take long at all after that. He didn’t go as deep or hard as he would’ve liked, but no one could say he was holding back either, and Tobias knelt there and took it, expression going somnolent, his whole body receptive and willing. Thank God for it, too, because Sullivan was sweating and grunting and completely losing his shit.
He came with a last series of hard thrusts, deeper than any so far, the sensation of Tobias choking around him less arousing than the fact that Tobias’s hands remained docile in his lap the whole time.
He opened his eyes to find that he was slumped forward over Tobias, one forearm propping him up against the wall, and Tobias was pushing against him, wrenching against him, and fuck—he’d, had he taken it too far? But no, Tobias was trying to get his jeans open while he was kneeling like this so he could jerk off, and his mouth was still working, gentle and sweet around Sullivan’s cock, so gentle, in fact, that post-orgasm sensitivity wasn’t a factor.
Sullivan pulled back anyway, ignoring Tobias’s moan of protest, and dropped to his knees as well. He pushed a few boards aside and guided Tobias flat on his back, yanking at his jeans until he could pull out Tobias’s dick—thick and pretty and hard, dripping at the tip. He stretched out beside Tobias and took him in hand, jerking slowly to start. Tobias made a soft, high sound, practically writhing, his kicking heels making drumming sounds on the boards at their feet, turning his face into Sullivan’s shoulder shyly, and that was so surprisingly charming that Sullivan had to lean down and put his mouth on Tobias’s throat, had to jerk harder and faster, had to lick against his skin and taste
