Sinclair planted his hands on Dom’s chest and shoved him off, hard. Before Dom could regain his footing, Sinclair lunged at him, slamming him down onto the floor. The impact jolted a dull pain through Dom’s body, along with the feral urge to strike back, to own.
Dom forced himself to calm down. To see what Sinclair would do.
Sinclair straddled his hips, his eyes gleaming with part-hunger, part-dominance. He wanted control over Dom—so Dom let him have a taste of it.
Sinclair rocked forward, shoving their covered cocks together. Bliss raked down Dom’s spine; Sinclair groaned, shoving harder.
Weeks ago, Dom wasn’t even sure they would touch this intimately again. Except here they were, Sinclair’s sleeping shorts a light gray, hiding absolutely nothing about the thick length straining behind it. From the ridge along his underside, to the light press of his tip, to the dark spot that was quickly spreading through the cotton.
Dom reached down, pinching Sinclair’s tip between his fingers. It was blunt like his own, sensitive. And he raked his nail against the bundle of nerves under Sinclair’s head.
Sinclair arched and swore, knocking Dom’s hand away. “Fuck you.”
“That all you can say?” Dom smiled. And he reached back down, dragging his nail against Sinclair’s tip, harder this time, until it almost became painful. Sinclair roared and grabbed Dom’s hands, pinning them against the floor. “Seems like you can’t think whenever you get horny,” Dom murmured.
“Yes, I can,” Sinclair hissed. He reached down to pull his cock out. In doing that, he released Dom’s hand. Dom followed him down, rubbing Sinclair’s underside with a slow, firm pressure. Sinclair’s eyelids fluttered shut, his breath puffing out. That, too, was a good look—when he was unguarded.
Dom leaned up, pressing a kiss to Sinclair’s stubbled jaw. It was ticklish, a little rough. Then he kissed down Sinclair’s throat, to his pulse point. Before Sinclair could react, Dom closed his mouth around it and sucked, and Sinclair’s hips bucked.
“Fuck,” Sinclair hissed, his pulse hammering against Dom’s tongue.
Dom sank his teeth into Sinclair’s skin, almost biting him there. He wanted to leave his mark on this man—Sinclair was wearing his clothes, and he had Dom’s blackwood scent on him.
Mine, Dom’s instincts said. And an insane possessiveness flared to life in his veins.
He caught Sinclair’s knee, rolling him off. Before Sinclair could react, Dom bore down on him, flattening Sinclair chest-down against the floor. And he shoved his covered length against Sinclair’s ass, roughly enough that Sinclair felt every thrust.
Sinclair growled, grinding right back. Dom badly wanted to tear open those shorts and plow inside.
“You’re gonna come like that, old man,” Sinclair hissed.
“Not before you come first.” Dom reached around, grasping Sinclair’s velvety cock. He was even harder than before.
Sinclair didn’t smell the same tonight. His musk was strong, but not quite as strong as that first day. And Dom wasn’t going into a rut.
Maybe... Sinclair had really been in heat, that time.
He wasn’t in heat now. So he didn’t have that excuse for the decisions he made tonight.
Dom kept a firm grip on Sinclair’s arousal. Then he pumped it, good and hard, the way he liked to pleasure himself. Sinclair hissed, precome smearing onto Dom’s fingers.
“The fuck are you doing?” Sinclair thrashed against him.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dom cupped his balls roughly. Then he tightened his fist around Sinclair’s cock and tugged, flicking his wrist at the very tip. Sinclair panted, growing thicker, his chest heaving. It felt like he was close, and Dom wasn’t even inside him yet.
So Dom rolled them onto their sides. He wrapped his leg around Sinclair’s thigh, forcing his knees apart. Then he reached down, grasped Sinclair’s shorts, and tore it open at his crotch. So he had direct access to Sinclair’s hole.
He reached into his ruined shorts, pressing down firmly against Sinclair’s taint—a pressure that would go right into Sinclair’s prostate.
Sinclair threw his head back and groaned, spreading his legs wider. An invitation.
Dom’s instincts snarled. “Remember the words,” Dom rasped in his ear. “‘Donut’. And if you want this in your ass—” he rocked his bulge against Sinclair’s crack “—the word is ‘Please.’”
“Get the hell away,” Sinclair spat, at the same time he ground his ass against Dom’s cock, a sweet pressure that wasn’t enough.
Dom yanked his belt open, his patience wearing thin. He undid his fly. Pushed down his underwear so his cock shoved out, flushed and straining.
It would look so good, opening Sinclair’s hole.
“It’s out,” Dom whispered, tugging up Sinclair’s shirt to expose his lower back. Then he rubbed his tip down Sinclair’s spine, and lifted it away.
Sinclair stopped completely with his thrashing. Dom smiled wider. Sinclair wanted more, didn’t he?
So Dom leaned in and murmured, “This is what it feels like.”
And he let it brush, ever so lightly, against Sinclair’s ass, the torn scrap of cotton the only thing keeping them apart. Over and over, Dom caressed Sinclair’s crack with his tip, a brief, light touch, a slow slide that they both knew wasn’t anywhere close to how hard Dom could fuck.
Dom closed his mouth around Sinclair’s earring, sucking lightly on it. “I haven’t come in a while. It’s thick and creamy if you want it. Straight from my—” he eased his tip into the tear of Sinclair’s shorts, his skin tingling where he caressed Sinclair’s taint “—spout.”
Sinclair’s breath rushed out. He reared up and threw Dom off his back, whirling around to shove Dom flat against the floor.
Dom’s blood thrummed twice as hot in his veins. “Playing rough, are we?”
“Never gonna be easy, Dom,” Sinclair snarled.
He reached down and grasped Dom’s pants, ripping his clothes all the way down to his ankles. Then he flipped Dom over, so Dom’s ass faced up. Quicker than anything, Sinclair grasped Dom’s cheeks, spreading them.
He spat. A touch of warmth landed between Dom’s cheeks, trickling all the way down to his hole.
Dom’s cock ached.
