“Okay?” he asked Aaron.
“Okay.”
“Say red if you want—”
“I know. And I won’t.”
Zack wasn’t into the type of play that took that type of statement as a challenge, but it was still hot as hell. He ran his nails up and down Aarons sides, to watch how he squirmed with the sensation and to see also how the blood rose to the surface of his pinking skin.
That wasn’t the only thing rising. Aaron’s dick was obviously hard and miserably trapped in his jeans. Zack grabbed his thighs through the thick material and kneaded, his hands slowly drifting towards, but never reaching, where Aaron clearly wanted them.
“I am suffering here,” Aaron breathed out, still with all that lovely laughter.
“Is that a problem?” Zack asked.
“No.”
“Good. Then keep suffering.”
Aaron moaned and dropped his head back against the bedpost. And Zack used the moment—so perfect, so hot—to pull out of his own clothes.
Naked, he stood next to the bed, and waited for Aaron’s eyes to open and focus on his body. He watched as they tracked up and down him, lingering and returning, lingering over and returning to his tattooed arms and his thickening dick.
“See something you like?” Zack asked.
“So much,” Aaron said. “You’re ridiculous, but so much. Are you going to give me any of it?”
“What’s going to make it the most agonizing for you,” Zack asked, “if I don’t let your cock out?”
“Fuck my mouth?” Aaron asked in a small eager voice.
Zack wasn’t going to make him beg today, but he would bet anything that he could make Aaron beg and love every second of it.
He fisted himself in himself in his hand and gave himself several sharp tugs before holding his dick out to Aaron barely an inch from his face.
“If you want it,” he said, “you have to stretch for it.”
Aaron did, leaning forward and stretching his neck out the best he could with his arms still trapped in his shirt and bound to the bedpost.
“That’s it,” Zack cooed as Aaron flicked his tongue over the head of his dick. This was, he knew, going to be amazing.
“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” he said as Aaron got his lips wrapped around the head. “Now let me feed it to you, nice and slow.”
Aaron whined back in his throat and shifted and squirmed on the bed. Zack forced himself to keep his eyes open to see Aaron thrusting up into the air, desperately trying to get friction against his jeans.
“You don’t come until I’m done,” he said.
Aaron, his mouth full, nodded in agreement, and made a small noise of assent.
Zack gripped the back of his head and started to thrust gently.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “Trust me. I don’t want you to think or feel or be anything else right now.”
Aaron moaned and Zack nearly did too as he felt the other man slip under the spell of a moment he was determined to drag out as long as possible.
After Zack came, panting and having to shove a hand over his own mouth to make sure he wasn’t heard in Marie’s house above, he let himself linger in Aaron’s mouth. It was overwhelming, almost too much, but Aaron’s soft whimpers as he tried to hold onto Zack’s dick with his lips while he made shallow circles with his hips on the bed were hard to let go of.
Eventually, Zack let himself slide out of Aaron’s slick mouth. He watched as the man took three sharp, shallow breaths, his lips glistening with what they had done.
“Please,” Aaron said like a prayer, his eyes still closed.
Zack crashed to his knees to get Aaron’s jeans open, his dick popping free.
“Please please please,” Aaron started begging now, eyes pressed shut so tight.
“Can you be quiet?” Zack asked. He doubted this apartment was any type of sound proof.
Aaron shook his head frantically.
“Then can I put my hand over your mouth?” Zack asked.
“Yes,” Aaron said. Zack clamped his hand there. Aaron pressed up into it, as if he liked that confinement as well.
As Zack took Aaron’s cock into his mouth down to the root, he felt the vibrations of Aaron’s cries against his palm. He wanted to keep them forever.
Chapter 11
THE NEXT MORNING
Zack’s Bed
AARON WOKE UP AS LIGHT was starting to show outside the small, curtained windows that hovered close to street level. He lay still, cocooned in blankets and pressed against Zack’s side, resolved not to move until he had to. Any morning he didn’t have to rush out the door to the rink was a good morning. A day he got to stay in bed, warm and blissfully comfortable, with the person he’d just had some pretty incredible sex with...that was sublime. He eventually fell asleep again, lulled by the sound of rain drumming on the windows and Zack’s quiet breathing.
He was pulled back to consciousness an indeterminate amount of time later by Zack’s voice.
“You’re stealing the blankets,” Zack complained, tugging at the duvet that, somehow, Aaron had completely burritoed himself in.
Aaron mumbled his displeasure at the disturbance and rolled toward the nearest source of warmth, taking his blankets with him.
“Okay, now you’re on top of me and still stole all the blankets. How did you do that?” Zack sounded equal parts dismayed and amused.
“I’m cold,” Aaron mumbled into a bare patch of Zack’s skin that might have been his shoulder.
The warm lump that was Zack shifted, and he wrapped his arms around Aaron’s shoulders. Aaron snuggled further into the embrace. “You’re never cold,” Zack protested.
“Rink cold is different,” Aaron said.
Zack laughed softly. “I don’t think that’s true, but okay.”
Aaron blinked sleep out of his eyes and peered down at Zack. His eyes were very pretty from this close. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Zack brushed a stray bit of hair off Aaron’s face. The touch sent goosebumps sparking down his arms. He was tempted—strongly—to lean down and
