Page 62 of Demon's Heart
He wanted to fuck Dante as much as he wanted Dante to fuck him, but tonight, if he was pretending, Dante was going to own his ass. Ollie could save the other fantasy for another night. He was under no illusion that once would be enough.
Ollie climbed on the bed and opened the lube, coating his fingers. He lay back and hiked up his legs, spreading them. A tightness tugged at his chest and his breath stuttered.
Fuck, he wished Dante were here. But no, this was better. Less complicated.
Ollie breached himself with two fingers, wincing at the intrusion. He should take his time, but he burned for release. Waiting seemed like the end of the world.
“Dante,” he murmured as he worked his fingers deeper. “Oh, Dante.”
The scent of peppermint filled Ollie’s nose and his skin prickled. Pleasure zipped down his spine, lighting him up and stealing his breath.
Ollie pulled his fingers out. Holy shit, he’d almost come. How was that possible?
He took a slow breath, trying to collect himself, then lubed the plug in a hurry. He aligned it with his entrance and swore he could feel Dante looming over him.
“Fuck me,” Ollie pleaded.
Dante’s breath ghosted his skin as if he were really there, whispering against his neck, and Ollie’s insides burst with butterflies.
He pushed the toy in, bearing down. It was Dante’s bare cock, ready to fill him with cum. Dante’s muscles flexed above him, his feathers rustling, and Ollie moaned.
Across the room, Ollie’s phone buzzed. His eyes popped open. Fuck, way to kill the mood and remind him he was alone.
He ignored the phone, pressing the plug in until it was fully seated. Ollie pushed the base, shifting the plug until it pegged his sweet spot.
“Oh fuck, right there.”
The phone buzzed relentlessly, starting up again a moment after stopping. Seriously, was there some emergency? Who was calling this late?
With a grumble, Ollie stood, the plug shifting and pulling a groan from him. He grabbed a tissue, wiped his hands, and fished the phone out of his shorts, finding Dante’s name lighting up the screen.
Ollie froze.
The call went to voicemail and Dante immediately called again. Was something wrong?
He couldn’t know what Ollie was doing, right?
“Fuck.” Ollie raised the phone to his ear and accepted the call. “Hi,” he said as smoothly as he could, proud his voice didn’t waver.
A harsh pant hit Ollie’s ears. “What are you doing?” Dante demanded.
Double fuck. “Nothing?” This time, it came out like a question, and Ollie cringed.
“Ollie,” Dante breathed. “You’re projecting your emotions. I can feel them.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “What?No, I’m not. I wasn’t projecting anything.”
“Ollie,” Dante said his name like a plea.
He swallowed. “Are you saying that you know I was…?” He couldn’t finish. It was mortifying. Ollie’s skin burned uncomfortably hot.
“I’m sorry, Ollie. I’ve been blocking you, but I can’t stay shielded when you’re focusing on me like that. I didn’t know what else to do.”
A pitiful whine slipped from Ollie’s lips. He still had the plug in his ass. He was hard and needy, and Dante could feel it through the bond. Dante knew Ollie had been thinking about him, lusting after him.
“What am I supposed to do? Not jerk off?”
Dante groaned. “I don’t know. I’m not telling you what to do, but I couldn’t let you keep going when you didn’t know I was, um, aware.”
