Page 19 of Astaroth

Page List

Font Size:

Aster pried at him, trailing the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Adrenaline lingered on traded breath. They were unkempt, the both of them. Aster kissed him deeply, and Briar yielded to him without pause. He scraped his fingernails over the back of Aster’s skull and held onto him. Aster moaned quietly between their wet lips. Whatever Briar had expected lust to be, he hadn’t anticipated this—how he clawed at Aster’s clothes, how his heartbeat doubled, how he bit Aster’s lips and rocked against him, searching for relief. It was overwhelming; his body wrought with unpredictable want. Sparring with him had been a prelude to the inevitable, as if holding themselves apart while holding each other defenseless had turned their violence into vulnerability.

“Please,” Briar whispered through another weak breath. Aster tilted his thigh against his trapped cock. Briar cracked his eyes open. Slivers of sea-gray ringed Aster’s wide, dark pupils. His bottom lip caught Briar’s chin.

They watched each other, moving like they had in the pool. Aster ground between his legs. Desire ratcheted. Untapped. Promised.Chased.

Aster’s hand slipped between his thighs, palming him through his tight, black pants. “If this is what happens when I start fights with you, I’ll consider pissing you off more oft—”

“Shut up,” Briar snapped. He pulled Aster into another kiss, allowing his eyes to slip shut and his hips to jump, pushing into Aster’s hand.

Aster kissed him deeply. He flicked open the button on Briar’s pants and shoved them down. Briar’s chest lurched. His body revved; his mind fogged. Aster trailed his hand along Briar’s stomach, dusting his sternum, resting on his throat, gripping, then sliding upward. He broke away from Briar’ lips to lick his palm, tongue sliding to the tip of his middle finger.

He couldn’t fathom being looked at right then. Being seen. Even so, when Aster set his forehead against Briar’s temple and gazed between them, watching his hand circle Briar’s cock, Briar whimpered—an awful, desperate sound—and let the back of his head thump the shelf. Aster touched him slowly. His palm grazed the underside of Briar’s cock, fingertips curled at his root, squeezing, stroking, working toward his wettened tip. Briar’s hips moved at their own accord. He squirmed, bucking into Aster’s fist, panting hard against his cheek.

“Please,” he said again, clawing at Aster’s shirt. “This is not the time to be gentle with me.”

Aster’s breath came short. He drew back enough to spit between them, saliva smeared by his palm, squeezing tighter, stroking faster. Briar had never, notonce, felt passion as blinding as that—shaped like hunger, unmistakable and bright, causing blood to pulse between his thighs. He almost saidpleaseagain. He almost saidfuck me.

Aster tucked his mouth against Briar’s throat and sucked sensitive skin between his teeth. Briar gasped. He gripped the back of Aster’s head with one hand, and clutched his shirt with the other, holding onto pleasure as it washed over him, climbing higher, following every hot, slick stroke. Aster’s teeth clamped down. His hand moved faster, massaging the head of Briar’s cock until the heat at the base of Briar’s spine finally broke. He cried out, muffling the sound against Aster’s shoulder. His body flexed, wracked with jerks and tremors. Pleasure coursed through him, stifling and perfect. Somehow, he’d beenbroken down, coaxed into a fight, taken apart, and held. Still, held. Aster, as unrelenting as ever, tightened his grip, pulling on Briar’s cock while he shook and bucked, spurting onto his knuckles. When it ended and Briar’s muscles unspooled, he found himself dazed, starving for Aster like a feral, unhinged animal.

Aster kissed him on the mouth. He held himself on a tripwire. Too tightly strung. Too keyed up. Briar fumbled with his belt and pawed at his zipper, allowing weak legs to buckle as he pressed his lips to Aster’s jaw, the center of his throat, a slice of corset between buttons on his shirt, and dropped to his knees. Aster did not hesitate. He wiped his messy hand on his pants and snatched Briar’s jaw, holding him by the chin. Briar ran his tongue over his lips, eyes half-lidded, cheeks hot, and opened his mouth.

“Look at you,” Aster whispered. He swallowed hard, slipping his thumb behind Briar’s bottom teeth.

Yes, look at me.

Briar touched his lips to the side of Aster’s cock, following his shaft to the smooth, flawless skin stretched across his pelvis. Before he could kiss him there, Aster tugged sharply on his jaw. Briar didn’t close his eyes. He braced on Aster’s thighs and tried to breathe, paying mind to the heaviness on his tongue, the position of his teeth, the earthy taste that filled his mouth. His lips slickened. He watched Aster from under his lashes, listening to the sloppy, airy sounds that came with being used like this. Being claimed. Aster breathed deeply, lips slightly parted, cheeks reddened. Briar pushed deep, swallowing around Aster’s cock until his throat convulsed. Aster’s moan was short and sharp, a sudden, surprised noise. He raked his hand through Briar’s hair and pulled. Briar’s throat flexed again. His stomach clenched. He gagged, fingers digging into Aster’s thighs. Salivadampened his chin, but he didn’t stop, and when Aster’s hips stuttered, he loosened his jaw and allowed it.

A low curse tumbled over Aster’s lips. Briar had never felt as blissfully out of control as he did right then. His eyes watered and his throat jumped, but he found himself drunk on the ache in his jaw, the desperate sips of air, the drag of Aster’s cock over his tongue, the fingers strewn through his hair, guiding him. Aster’s hips jerked. Briar squeezed his eyes shut. He whined. Sticky lips pressed to Aster’s pelvis. His head spun and his stomach knotted. He opened his eyes again, lashes warm and damp, and looked up. Aster fucked his mouth, biting back soft, barely-there sounds. Briar encouraged him, moaning and choking, and tried not to flinch when Aster’s grip tightened. A warm spurt hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, wrenching away to breathe. Another hot spurt landed on his mouth. This time, he did flinch. Aster’s fingers latched around Briar’s jaw again, forcing his lips to part. Hot ropes striped his tongue. Briar relaxed. He inhaled, exhaled, and opened his mouth wider as Aster rested his cock on Briar’s bottom lip, thrusting shallowly, finishing what they’d started with a soft sigh.

Briar pushed on his legs. Aster’s fingers went slack, tenderly cupping his cheek before he dropped his hand. Briar wiped his mouth. He slouched. Caught his breath. Licked his teeth and swallowed again. Raw, scratchy soreness bloomed in his throat.

“I. . .” Aster paused, gulping in choppy breaths. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Which part?” Briar winced, touching two fingers to the base of his neck.

A cute, bashful laugh sounded.

Briar pawed at his watery eyes. He wanted to say something witty, but his body hadn’t quite recovered, and his thoughts stuck like honey to the roof of his mouth. He managed to button his pants and lean on his heels, turning his lulled gaze upward.He couldn’t imagine what he looked like.Wrecked, he thought. Lips still wet, eyes still glassy, body still trembling. Silence swept the library. Aster buckled his belt, suspended in hazy eye-contact as he reached down and hauled Briar to his feet.

“Sorry,” Briar said, for no reason at all. He shook his head, using Aster’s shoulders to stay upright. “My knees are. . .”Sore. “Weak.”

“Don’t apologize. You okay?” He thumbed at Briar’s cheekbones. Gentleness was an odd thing to experience after what they’d just done. Still, he clung to Aster’s affection. He nodded, and Aster nodded back. “You sure? I might’ve been a little too. . .” He paused, considering. “Eager.”

“We were both a little too eager.”

Aster’s lips curved. “Swords, then. That’s your thing?”

Briar huffed and rolled his eyes. Once Aster laughed, he did, too.

They kissed slowly. Briar didn’t know the protocol for moments like these. He didn’t know how long they should stay tangled. How deeply to kiss him. If holding and being held stopped and started at the precipice of intimacy. They had leapt over the edge, fallen, hit the bottom, and somehow, Aster hadn’t tired of him yet. Briar’s lashes fluttered when Aster licked into his mouth. He wanted to sleep for hours. Go to his knees again. Lie on the couch while Aster mapped his body. Everything had coalesced. What he wanted, he wanted right then, later, in ten minutes, two days from now, for the rest of time.

Wanting, he realized, was a selfish, lasting thing.

“I’d like some tea, I think,” Briar said, breaking away to speak against Aster’s mouth. “And a shower.”

“I’ll put the kettle on and tend to your clippings once you finish.”

“I imagine you also need a shower.”