Page 36 of Break the Rule
This is better. There’s that undignified horse sound again.
There’s a feeling in Eden’s chest he doesn’t like, and he needs to drown it out, so he leans forward, biting Charlie’s hip. Charlie yelps, then moans when Eden draws his tongue over the mark.
“Little shit.” Charlie groans, the sound deep and needy when Eden smooths his fingers around to Charlie’s ass. “I just came.”
“Can you only come once?” Eden asks, batting his eyelashes at Charlie. “You are old.”
“Old,” Charlie gapes. “I’m only thirty-two.”
“Old man,” Eden repeats, that part of his brain desperate for attention is looking for it any way he can have it.
“I’m not much older than you,” Charlie grunts, eyes half-lidded and cock already responding to the way Eden’s finger teases over his hole. Once he adds lube, Charlie’s going to be so easy for him.
“How old do you think I am?” Eden asks, realizing for the first time that Charlie must think he’s older. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. When he was living on the streets, men used to love his features, because he looked older than he was, so they could pretend they weren’t fucking predators. He hadsomething angelic about him—their words, not Eden’s—that let them indulge in their fantasies. He likes the idea that Charlie thinks he’s older, and doesn't have some weird kink for underage femboys. If he did, Eden would bite him again, and not in the fun way.
“Like twenty-six,” Charlie offers, grunting when Eden’s thumb nearly breeches his hole. “Maybe twenty-seven.”
Eden hums, rising up to reach for the lube. He uncaps it, warming a generous amount between his fingers. Charlie’s already relaxed, he doesn’t need this amount, but Eden wants to make a mess of him.
Charlie is like a toy, and Eden wants toplay.
“Not exactly,” Eden answers evasively. He crawls between the spread of Charlie’s legs, loving that while he’s still the one on his knees, Charlie is the one at his mercy. He looks so good like this, all his bare skin exposed. His cock is half-hard, and whether that’s normal or because of Eden, he isn’t going to ask. He’s going to pretend it’s because of him, that for once in his life there’s something special about him.
“You ready?” Eden asks, giving Charlie’s thigh a firm squeeze.
“Yeah, but?—”
“Unless that ‘but’ is you revoking your consent, you should shut up.” Eden plunges one finger into Charlie’s ass, delighted in how easily it goes in. He really is a slut.
“Fuck,” Charlie groans, leaning back against the work table and spreading his legs even wider. The position can’t be comfortable, and looks ridiculous, but it affords him a face full of dick and Charlie’s ass right where he wants it.
“You love this.” It’s not a question, but the moan Charlie gives him when he adds a second finger answers anyway. He takes Eden in so readily, the tightness of his body welcoming Eden in a way he’s never been welcome anywhere before.
“Please,” Charlie begs, like he’s been edged for hours and not two fucking minutes.
“Such a whore for me,” Eden murmurs, nipping at the inside of his thigh. His own cock is rock hard and leaking, but he feels no rush, only the intense satisfaction that comes with finally—fucking finally—being allowed to have what he wants.
The men who bought Eden never asked what he liked because it didn’t matter. He was a plaything for them. Any questions they did ask were part of a game, and Eden knew how to fill the role they wanted him to play. Since then, his sexual escapades have been perfunctory at best. Whether it was unfortunate circumstances or people’s stupid fucking preconceived notions, the men who wanted Eden never let him have whathewanted.
Part of him wonders if he should tell Charlie, not about the sex work—that’s none of his fucking business. Even with a nonactive sex life, he gets tested regularly and is on PrEP. His past is his. It’s the having never actually topped a man before that feels like maybe something he should share, but the second he fills Charlie up with a third finger, watching him try to fuck himself back on Eden’s fingers, he changes his mind. They’re going to use protection, and Charlie is going to get dicked down like he clearly wants. He doesn’t need to know anything else.
“You’re practically gagging for it,” Eden taunts.
“What can I say, you’re hot as fuck,” Charlie groans.
Eden bites his thigh. “No praise.”
“Biting me isn’t exactly a punishment,” Charlie huffs.
“You like when I bite you, Charlie?”
“I like everything you’re doing,” Charlie admits, as if all his secrets are fair game.
“Turn around and stop talking,” Eden tells him, unsure why he feels mildly sick to his stomach at the idea of someone taking advantage of Charlie. He’s clearly too trusting. Case in point—giving Eden his address. He doesn’t know jack shit about Eden. What kind of moron gives random men their address for a hookup?
“Can you—” but Charlie stops, cutting himself off with a grunt when Eden manhandles him down onto the art desk, his chest flat and his ass exposed. Perfect.
“Can I, what?” Eden asks, hands on his waistband.
