Page 86 of Close Quarter
Silas didn't reply. He set about devouring those lips and that tongue.
Rhys's fingers scraped against his scalp, tugged at his hair. His hips thrust a rock-hard cock against Silas's dick and balls.
Want and need pooled in Silas's stomach. He ground himself into Rhys and bit at his bottom lip.
Rhys's gasp and the deep groan that followed sent a spike of desire that tightened Silas's balls.
He shifted and rose up over Rhys, breaking the contact between them.
Slow. He had to pace himself. His wounds and the poison were gone, but he couldn't say he was entirely over the attacks from last night. He felt better than he should have, but the tremble in his arms wasn't from lust, nor was the rapid thrum of his heart entirely the product of desire.
The angle of the sun was high. They had time.
And by the gods, he wanted to hear Rhys moaning beneath him, wanted to see him thrashing with pleasure. That much, at least, Silas could give to the beautiful man in his arms who had said, "I love you," over and over in all the languages Silas knew. And more.
Certainly that was a goal worth exhausting himself over. He leaned down and sucked Rhys's kiss-bruised bottom lip again.
"Please," Rhys said, his voice a mix of sleep and desire. "I want..." He slid his hands over Silas's shoulders and down his back, warm fingers tracing pleasure down Silas's spine.
"Everything." Stubble scratched Silas's lips as he drew his mouth over Rhys's chin, then kissed the cleft in the middle. He tongued those tiny hairs, nibbled at them. He wandered lower, kissing his way over Rhys's throat. He tasted of sea salt and smelled of spice. Rhys swallowed, his Adam's apple prominent for a moment. Silas licked at it.
Rhys hissed. The tug on Silas's hair grew sharper, tighter. Rhys had probably balled his hands into fists, just as he had while fucking Silas's mouth yesterday.
Silas slid his fingers over the sensitive skin on the sides of Rhys's stomach.
Thrusting upward, Rhys growled when his cock met nothing but air. "Damn it, Silas! Let me --"
When Silas rolled Rhys's nipple between his fingers, those words turned into an unintelligible string of syllables.
He'd pay for that later, undoubtedly, but it was worth the frozen wide-eyed expression of surprise. Rhys bucked and squirmed to get away from his ministrations. Silas flattened himself on top of Rhys. Then replaced his fingers with his mouth. Though hard, the nub of flesh yielded nicely to the play of his tongue as he licked and sucked it.
Rhys's wordless cry turned into gasps and whimpers. His hands tightened in Silas's hair, and sparks danced over Silas's skin.
At some point, he'd let Rhys know just how much having his hair pulled turned him on. Right now? There were better things to contemplate.
Silas scraped his teeth over the nipple. Beneath him, Rhys's whole body shook. He pulled back and loomed over Rhys.
Rhys worked hard to catch his breath. His eyes were wide with expectation--and just a hint of fear.
"I'm going to teach you a word in Latin,” Silas said. After all, he'd only worked over one of Rhys's nipples.
"What word?" Rhys croaked the question.
"Symmetria." He descended on the other nipple with lips, teeth, and tongue and pressed his full weight down onto Rhys to keep him still.
That didn't entirely work.
"Oh fuck." Rhys trembled and dragged his fingers along Silas's side. The heat and sting jolted like electricity to Silas's balls. He thrust his cock into Rhys's thigh. The sweet friction sent tingles of warmth through his arms and legs. He needed to feel more of that heat, but it could wait. Itwouldwait. Rhys's nipple, however... He sucked the nub between his teeth and tugged.
"God." Rhys clawed at his back. "I can't--"
Silas relented and let the nipple pop out of his mouth. "But you can. You will."
"Please." Rhys's voice was breathless.
Silas sat up and traced fingers across Rhys's chest, following the fine line of hair down to just before Rhys's cock. "Do you want more?"
Rhys sucked in a deep breath of air. "From you? Always."
