Page 20 of Stolen Harmony
He whimpered, too far gone to answer. I took that as permission and worked him open with ruthless patience. My cock throbbed, leaking against my thigh, but I held back. This wasn’t about me getting off. It was about wiping out thought—his, mine, anyone’s.
“You want it?” I asked, voice rough.
“Yeah,” he gasped. “Please.”
I slicked myself up with the lube I kept in my back pockets, lined up behind him, and pushed in with one slow, firm thrust. He tensed, then moaned, arching his back, his hands white-knuckled on the sink.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “You feel good.”
He did. Hot, clenching around me, every inch a reminder that I was still alive, still capable of feeling even if I didn’t want to.
I started to move, snapping my hips in short, hard thrusts, driving into him with a desperation I couldn’t name. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the small room, filthy and perfect. He met every thrust like he needed it, wanted it, whimpering with every grind of my cock against his prostate.
“Say you want it,” I growled, leaning over him, teeth grazing his shoulder.
“I want it,” he gasped. “God—don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. I fucked him like I was punishing someone,like I was trying to scrape out every sharp edge inside me and bury it in him.
His hole was leaking around me, lube and precome slicking his thighs. I reached around and wrapped a hand around his cock again, stroking in time with my thrusts.
He came hard, shuddering under me, mouth open in a soundless cry, his cum painting the sink below us. His hole clenched around me, tight and wet and perfect, and I groaned, letting go.
I came deep, spilling inside him with a shudder that racked my whole body. For one moment, there was nothing. Just heat. Just release.
We stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing hard, still tangled.
Then I pulled out gently and watched the way his hole fluttered and leaked, a mix of my cum and lube dripping down his thigh. It was obscene. Beautiful.
He reached for some paper towels and cleaned himself off without speaking. I tucked myself back into my jeans and tried not to look at the mirror.
“I should go,” he said, quiet again now. “But... you okay?”
“Eventually,” I murmured, and for the first time, it almost felt true.
He squeezed my shoulder once, a brief touch that somehow managed to convey both comfort and goodbye, then slipped out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with the fluorescent light buzzing overhead and the taste of someone else's kindness lingering on my lips.
Chapter 6
Carried Weight
Elias
Iwas staring at the same paragraph for the fourth time when my phone buzzed against the desk.
Anna's name lit up the screen, and I felt my stomach clench. She never called unless there was a problem, and given that Rowan had mentioned staying above the bookstore, which was only three blocks from her place, the timing felt ominous.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Eli.” Her voice was carefully controlled, but I could hear the tension underneath. “I need you to come down here.”
“What's wrong?”
“Your boy's here.” There was a pause, the sound of voices in the background, clinking glasses, the ordinary noise of a bar at night. “Or he was upright a while ago. Now he's doing a pretty good impression of someone who's forgotten how to be conscious.”
My chest tightened. “What happened?”
“He showed up around six, looking like he'd been hit by a truck. Started drinking like the world was ending and didn't slow down when I tried to cut him off.” She sighed, and I couldpicture her behind the bar, wiping down glasses with the methodical precision of someone who'd dealt with this situation too many times. “He's going to end up face-first on my floor if someone doesn't take him home soon.”
