Page 142 of Sapphire Spring

Mason smiled, then gently reached up and gathered a handfulof Naser’s hair in one hand. “Sothis is still…” Masontightened his grip and pulled. Delicious chills raced to his fingers and toes.A warm and welcoming heat caressed the base of his neck as Mason pulled tightenough to cause a light sprinkle of pain across his scalp. He wasn’t sure if itwas the pleasure of having a kink satisfied or the absence of shame that filledhis bones with warmth. Maybe it was both.

“Good?” Mason asked.

“Very,” Naser whispered.

Mason sank his teeth into the base of Naser’s neck—a quick,hard bite, the exact speed and pressure Naser had taught him after he’d movedin.

Then they were a frenzied, liberated tangle, and the nextthing Naser knew, Mason had one hand around the front of his throat while heused the other to yank Naser’s briefs down his thighs, then over his shins.Then Mason was reaching into the nightstand drawer, slicking himself with lube,all without breaking fierce eye contact, all without releasing his hand fromthe front of Naser’s throat. All without muddying the message that Naser wasthe center of his desire, the center of his world.

“Feels like I’ve waited my whole fucking life for this,”Mason growled.

“I’m done waiting,” Naser whispered. “Are you?”

Mason answered by sliding two lube-slick fingers intoNaser’s entrance, watching Naser’s face as he explored. The eye contact was asarousing as Mason’s expert finger-work, and so when Mason hit Naser’s prostate,when everything inside of Naser went soft and pliant, he fought the urge tothrow his head back and gasp, forced himself to gaze up into Mason’s eyes,which only made Mason probe harder and with greater determination, desperate toundo him.

“You’re so open,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking open,Nas.”

“Like I said, wait’s over.”

Their noses were almost touching suddenly, Mason’s breath bathingNaser’s lips. “For both of us,” Mason said.

Then Naser felt the pressure he’d been craving for years, felthimself yielding to it, the first sense that it wouldn’t be as formidable as hethought, followed by a sudden wall of resistance. And then, the release—thephysical release coupled with the knowledge that Mason was entering him, inchafter inch, sliding deeper into him. And for a moment, there was no bottom, notop. Just two bodies joined in a way that an instant before hadn’t seemedpossible but now seemed irreversible.

Mason’s hand had left his throat.

The familiar shudder of surrender moved up his spine. Helaced his ankles over Mason’s lower back the way he’d wanted to that firstmessy night in Mason’s bed.

“Nas…” A whisper, but it also soundedlike a question. “Do you still…” Mason didn’t have to finish the question. Thisfeeling of union was new for them both.

Did it demand its own new lazy rhythm, or did Naser stillcrave rough with flashes of pain?

Slowly, Masonfuckedhim, buildingup speed, pulling back slightly so he could watch Naser’s body, read the musicof pain and pleasure on his face.

Naser answered Mason’s unfinished question by bringing theman’s hand back to the front of his throat. “Hard,” Naser whispered. “Fuck mehard.”

With thrusts alone, Masonlearnedhim, building from long and hard to fast and hard, adjusting and varying basedon Naser’s grunts, whines, and pleas. And the taps—the single tap on his backthat saidmore. Naser felt like a warm bath under Mason’s sweaty, thrustingbulk, more energy and heat than sweat and skin. Masonfuckedlike something once caged inside of him had been set free to devour. And Naserdelighted in the knowledge that he’d emancipated this beast by being willing toreceive it.

“You’re mine,” Mason growled. “You’remine.”

Naser could hear the pleading undertone to the proclamation,the sense that Mason was close to eruption and trying to coat the imminent lossof control in aggression.

“Yours to fuck,” Naser whispered in his ear. “Yours to own.”

Mason erupted. It was a delicious combination—the profanityMason always unleashed when he came was accompanied for the first time by aburst of wet heat inside of him.

“I need…” Mason gasped. “Just give me a minute and then Ican, you know, finish you off.”

“I’ll give you ten minutes, and then we’re going again.We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

He laughed, lifted his head from the pillows beside Naser’s,and gave him a wet and sloppy kiss.

For a while after Mason slowly pulled himself from Naser’sheat, they lay in a sweaty tangle, catching their breath. And it was perfectthat they’d waited this long, that it had happened this way. Not in thestrange, glossy stage set of Mason’s father’s beach house, but here in Naser’shomey, lived-in condo. Perfect that he’d been forced to make space for anotherin the very place where he’d one convinced himself he’d be content to live alife of solitude and fantasy.

Mason’s body against his was intact, healed. Warm andhealthy.

And Naser still felt filled by him even though he’dwithdrawn.

“How was work?” Mason finally asked.

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