Page 98 of Break the Rule
“You little shithead,” Charlie gasps when Eden grabs onto his dick and laps at the tip like one might an ice cream cone.
Eden smirks, emboldened by their positions. He might be the one on his knees, but he relishes in the give of Charlie’s ass under his fingers and the way Charlie’s eyes fall shut on a moan when Eden sucks him down. It’s so different doing this because he wants to, because making Charlie feel good thrills him. There’s nothing quite like the high of being able to make a man like Charlie fall apart, and there’s no doubt he’s falling apart now.
Taking pity on the way Charlie’s fingers clench and unclench at his sides, Eden brings them to his neck, shivering when Charlie’s finger curls in one of the long stands at his nape. What Eden wouldn’t give for Charlie to gently slide his hands in Eden’s hair, to caress it tenderly while Eden chokes on his dick. He won’t though. No one is ever that gentle when things are this filthy, and Eden can’t bring himself to see if Charlie would be an exception even as the longing grows.
Pushing his own desires away, he focuses on the weight of Charlie’s cock on his tongue as he bobs his head, letting his hands wander back to Charlie’s ass. Charlie lets out a series of curses in English and Spanish when Eden’s fingers smooth down his crack, playing with him in a way meant to tease.
“Eden,” Charlie cries, bucking his hips.
This is what Eden loves. The desperation, the tremble in Charlie’s legs and the precome that dribbles on his tongue. He loves feeling every minute change in Charlie’s arousal, being able to taste his excitement growing, knowing it’s because of him.
This is something Eden can do, something he can give Charlie. The urge to bring him to release, not so this will end but simply to make Charlie feel good, catches Eden off guard, and he ends up gagging on Charlie’s cock when he takes it too far back.
“Careful,” Charlie whispers, wiping away the moisture at the corners of Eden’s eyes with his thumbs. He’s glad for nearly choking himself, allowing Charlie to think that’s why his eyes are watering. “I’m close.”
I know,Eden wants to say. Because he does. He can sense it in the way Charlie’s stomach flutters with his rapid breathing, knows it in the way he stills like he’s trying not to fuck Eden’s face too hard, even if that’s what Eden wants. Even if Eden sometimes wishes Charlie were rougher with him, if only because at least that would make sense.
Images of Charlie flood his brain—tender, soft, confusing—and Eden acts without thinking. He grabs Charlie’s hands and moves them to his hair ready for Charlie to pull, expecting the sting and hoping it’ll stop the sudden longing for things he doesn’t understand.
“So soft,” Charlie whispers, his hands so goddamn gentle it breaks something in Eden. “So beautiful. So perfect.”
Eden fucking preens under the attention, unsure anyone has ever looked at him with such affection while he choked on their dick and certain no one has ever touched Eden like he were something precious. Even as Eden tries to turn things rougher, desperately trying to get things back into territory he knows how to navigate, Charlie slows it down, murmuring more praise andstroking both hands through Eden’s hair as if he can’t stop—as if Eden is the only thing in the world that matters.
“You’re fucking perfect,” Charlie moans, sliding his fingers into Eden’s hair. Again Eden tenses, waiting for Charlie to pull and take. All he does is cradle Eden’s head in his big hands, staring down at him with unmasked wonder.
Eden’s stupid fucking eyes water again, goosebumps springing up on his arms as he closes his eyes. This is too much. The gentleness is everything he wanted, and he feels sick because he wasn’t supposed to get it. Eden doesn’t get what he wants.
“Baby.”
Eden is no one’s fucking baby, so it makes no sense why that one word makes him almost come, why he grabs his own dick and jerks too rough and too hard, unable to cope with how gentle Charlie is being with him. It hurts, his grip too tight and too dry. Eden focuses on that as he sucks Charlie’s dick and tries not to cry.
The harder he strokes himself, the gentler Charlie’s hands in his hair get until he’s all but petting Eden with soft words of praise that Eden is going to be embarrassed about later, but they fill up some of the empty cracks in his heart. He wants to be mad, but all there is, is sweet relief and pleasure when he finally lets his own strokes soften to match the way Charlie pets his hair, his mouth full of dick and his stupid heart full of Charlie.
“You’re so perfect for me,” Charlie praises.
That’s not the first time Eden’s heard that kind of sentence, but it’s the first time a man has gazed down at Eden like he were a fucking treasure and not a possession.
Unable to cope with the softness, Eden goes for broke and takes Charlie down as deep as he can, sucking and licking until drool drips down his chin, and Charlie’s whining and trying to pull back.
“I’m gonna come,” he warns.
Pulling back, Eden closes his eyes and tips his face up, mouth open in anticipation. There’s a half a second pause followed by Charlie’s familiar, guttural whine he makes right before he comes, and then his release is hitting Eden’s face—spurts off on his eyes and cheek and then down to his mouth. Before he can lick it off, Charlie’s crashing to the floor and devouring Eden with a kind of frenzy that makes Eden’s head spin.
He licks his own come off Eden’s cheek and mouth before kissing him, filthy and uncoordinated, almost like he’s never kissed anyone before. Eden might tease him about it if he didn’t feel as fucking desperate as Charlie, somehow ending up in Charlie’s lap and rubbing himself against Charlie’s stomach.
“Let me, baby.”
That fucking name again. Eden should nip it in the bud. Should tell Charlie’s he’s not his fucking baby. Instead, he moans. He moans because Charlie’s kissing him again, those wonderful fingers of his curling around Eden’s cock and stroking in the way Eden likes but rarely provides for himself—sure and slow, gentle. Fuck Charlie for figuring this out.
“Fuck you,” Eden grits out, because the alternative is running away, and he’s trying so fucking hard not to run.
“Wish you could, baby.” Charlie kisses his nose and his cheek, bringing their foreheads together.
Slamming his eyes shut, Eden clutches Charlie’s forearms and focuses on his erection—on the steady slide of Charlie’s hand as he jerks Eden off, on the way he seems to know exactly what speed and pressure will make Eden tremble. It’s maddeningly perfect, and it’s all he can do not to push for something sharper in order to feel something more familiar.
“That’s it, relax,” Charlie croons.
The urge to fight is there, tempted by Charlie’s, well—everything. He’s so fucking warm under Eden, big in a way thatcould be used against Eden, yet he’s only using his body to shield Eden from the cold, hard floor. His body is a buffer, not a weapon, and something in Eden shatters into so many fucking pieces, he’s not sure how the fuck he’s ever going to put them back together.
