The Deeper He Hurts (12 page)

This was so good. Better than anything Sawyer had ever let himself have. The touch, heat, closeness he shouldn't want. Shouldn't be scrambling to get more of.

He plundered Asher's mouth, sucking and licking until the need for air forced him to break away. But he couldn't stop kissing—lines over his jaw, down his neck, past his chest. Asher's nipple tickled his tongue and he lingered over it, flicked and nipped until it was a hard nub. Then he did the same to the other. Asher's moans and soft gasps urged him on, each sound a call for more.

He'd never been this crazed over a guy. For sex. For pleasure. The warmth flooding him was slow and heated, dizzying with its threat to overtake him completely. But he didn't get lost in the feelings. He didn't bury the sensations when he rode the pain, and he couldn't now. So he embraced the heated high and dizzying rush and noted every place that yanked an inhalation or soft moan from Asher.

A light dusting of hair spread over Asher's chest in dark curls that proclaimed his heritage. Sawyer loved the feel of it under his fingers, against his lips. The desire to slow down and appreciate every second, every inch of Asher was undermined by the urgency building in his groin. His dick was hard and ready, balls heavy.

“Supplies,” he mumbled over Asher's abdomen, the small dips and ridges enticing him to find each one. “We need the damn supplies.”

Asher stretched to the side and he followed, sliding kisses over his ribs until he got distracted by the soft arch of Asher's ass. He grabbed it in the next instant, hand filled by the muscle.

“Fuck,” Asher swore, but it came out low and loaded with enjoyment. “I can't rea—”

Sawyer forgot about the supplies and shoved Asher the rest of the way over until he had full access to his ass. He worked out, and it was evident in the firm globes. Sawyer bit and licked each one, amazed at his fascination and the wonder lighting him up. He'd never felt anything like this before.

Sex was an act. He fucked and got off when the itch drove him or the top wanted it. But exploring and lingering was completely different. Wanting to discover everything while driving Asher wild excited him more than any whip or cane.

He spread Asher's ass cheeks and found his hole. The pucker clenched, fluttered with Asher's short breaths. He'd never done this. Had never wanted to get this intimate. He did now, though, curiosity and desire urging him forward. The hole flexed under his tongue, the circle contracting when he poked at it.

“Sawyer.” Asher ground his name into the pillow, ass raising as he tucked his legs beneath him. “Fuck me.”

“Soon,” he mumbled. When he was done here.

The heavy musk of arousal and man burned over his senses, the deep taste distinctive yet not. Excitement buzzed through his system, nipping at the edge of his brain. It prickled over his skin and heightened with every touch.

He worked the hole, driven by a need to break through, to push Asher, but also to hear his strangled groans. His needy whimpers. The urgency of his growls. And then to shove back.

Spit slicked his cheeks, his whiskers rubbing Asher's tender skin pink. He didn't relent, though, not until the muscles gave and the tip of his tongue wiggled into the tight hole. Success sprang down his spine, and he reared up gasping for air.

Asher sank into the mattress, back heaving with each breath. He turned his head to peer at Sawyer over his shoulder. “Will you fuck me now?” The sultry expression was amplified by his messed hair and the sheen of perspiration that gleamed over his back.

Sawyer's grin spread so wide it pulled on his cheeks. He shook his hair out of his eyes and leaned over him to steal a kiss from those pouty lips. Asher welcomed him in, feasting on his mouth until Sawyer forced himself to break free.

His dick grazed over the smooth surface of Asher's back, nudged down the wet crease. He closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure racing into his balls before spreading out.
Damn
. The sweetness of it, the slow tease that trembled over his chest and sank into his heart almost did him in. But he wanted to be closer. Wanted to be completely connected to Asher in the only way he could safely allow himself to be.

The scramble for lube and a condom became a race to keep his cool. He fumbled with the lube cap until Asher snatched the bottle from him. Asher managed to get the liquid on his fingers and had them in his hole before Sawyer rolled the condom on.

He stared at the sight, marveled at the two fingers crammed into the tight space. The muscles were stretched taut, resistance slowly working into acceptance with each dive of Asher's fingers. There was room for more, though.

His own finger slid in next to Asher's, their knuckles bumping as they found a rhythm together. Asher's hole sucked them in with each plunge, resistance holding them until they pulled back out. He added a second digit, and Asher's groan tore through the room. Four fingers stretched him wide, opened him up, and got him ready for Sawyer.

“Damn.” He swallowed, wet his lips. “That's the most erotic thing I've ever seen.” And he'd seen just about everything in the many dungeons he'd visited.

“You know what would make it better?”

“My dick in there.”

“Bingo,” Asher mumbled as he yanked his fingers free, back dipping to lift his ass higher. “Now do it.”

Being told what to do had never been his thing, but he had no complaints here. He wanted nothing more than to get inside Asher. His dick was poised at his entrance before he'd thought twice about it. The tip nudged past the loosened muscles to sink into the heat on a plunge that took him all the way to the bottom.

Their mutual groans blended together, his lower notes harmonizing with Asher's higher ones. Being buried in Asher was better than he remembered. An all-encompassing heat that spread from the inside out.

His vision narrowed to just Asher, to where they were joined. He eased out, then back in, the visual timed with the feelings overloading his senses. The power grew from his chest to nestle beside the wonder. This strong, controlled man had opened himself up to Sawyer in so many ways.

Exposed himself without pushing for Sawyer to give more than he could.

He thrust hard, hips snapping with his loss of restraint, with the need tearing inside of him to be closer. Asher hitched forward, scrambled to brace himself against the headboard. His small sounds encouragement.

Sawyer gave him everything. He poured himself into the moment, fire blazing in his blood, soaring until he couldn't imagine ever letting go—or ever wanting to. He pitched forward, forehead grinding between Asher's shoulder blades, hips working in his quest to get deeper.

Asher cried out and Sawyer nailed that spot again, ensuring that each stroke teased over the hidden bundle of nerves, driving Asher crazy.

“I want…“Asher's voice hitched. “I'm gonna…”

That's what he needed. Asher's release, one that would leave him exhausted and panting for air. He grasped Asher's dick and jerked it in time with his thrusts. Sweat slicked their skin, heat simmering between them as they strode for the end. He rolled his head, bit the area near Asher's nape, and fought off the orgasm that sizzled up his spine.

Asher found his hand braced on the bed, snaked his fingers between Sawyer's. The touch flew down his arm to ram his heart with everything he'd resisted. The trust and friendship. The connection and tenderness.

The things that could damage him for good.

Asher's howled grunt tumbled through the air, his ass clenching down on Sawyer in rhythmic hitches. His shudders trembled into him, his grip turning fierce around Sawyer's fingers. The heavy scent of come hit Sawyer's nose, and he lost it.

He drove into Asher with everything he had and let go. His orgasm blasted through him to shatter him from the inside out. He gasped, abs contracting, stars blooming before his eyes as he fought to breathe. His hips jerked on their own, burying him in Asher until he didn't want to leave.

Every part of him tingled in numbing respite as awareness slowly crept back in. He nuzzled Asher's neck, laid a kiss on his shoulder. At some point they'd fallen flat onto the bed, Asher stretched out beneath him. The thought of moving had him resisting the inevitable. Right this moment, he believed he could stay there forever.

Asher mumbled something beneath him, his words lost in the pillow. Sawyer swiveled his head, rejecting whatever he'd said. He wasn't ready to break this spell that let him feel so damn good.

Completely happy. No past. No worries. No emptiness that blanked out the world in order to keep him functioning.

His fingers started to ache where Asher still gripped them, and it wouldn't be long before he was forced to move. He stretched a series of kisses over Asher's shoulder and up his neck until he nuzzled the spot behind his ear.

“Thank you,” he whispered. For giving him this when he'd given up on ever feeling anything but the pain again.

The cool air swooped in to wrap around his chest and chill him when he moved away. He eased out of Asher, then forced his legs to hold him steady when he stumbled to the bathroom to clean up. He didn't bother with the light and avoided the mirror. There was no way he wanted to see himself right now, to acknowledge the emotions scrambling to take hold in his too-empty heart. Its battered state didn't hold much promise of any of them taking root, yet he didn't seem capable of rejecting them, either.

Asher had straightened the bedding and scooted over to make room for him when he came back into the room.

“Do you need a towel or something?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.

“I had wipes in the drawer.” He pointed to the nightstand.

“You could've told me that before I got up,” he grumbled as he crawled back onto the bed. “I was comfortable where I was.” He reached to slap Asher's ass, hoping the light tone hid the depth of the truth.

Asher grabbed his hand before he could pull it away, his smile growing. “I liked you there too.” He raised their joined hands to brush a kiss over Sawyer's knuckles, his eyes turning serious. “Thank you, too.”

Heat rushed up Sawyer's neck to settle in his cheeks, the sensation so foreign he almost vaulted from the bed. But Asher still held his hand and he couldn't just bolt. Not yet.

“You, uh”—he swallowed—“heard that?”
Damn it.

Asher's breathy chuckle ghosted over his fingers. “I did.”

He turned his face into the pillow, his groan muffled yet audible.

“Hey.” Asher nudged his temple, but he refused to budge.

“Can you strike that from your memory?” Sawyer asked, turning just enough to speak. He opened one eye and quickly closed it after seeing Asher's amused grin.

“Nope. It's locked in now.”

“I could beat it out of you.”

“That doesn't work on me.”

“Fucker.” His mumbled response was loaded with sarcasm. “Why did I have to fuck the sadist?”

“Because I'm irresistible.”

Too much so. Asher tugged on his arm until Sawyer relented and scooted closer, giving up his hiding spot in the pillow. “What?”

“Come here.” Asher shifted, wiggled, and fluffed pillows until they were both braced against the headboard, the view of the darkening sky spread out before them. “This is gorgeous.”

He is.
The corny thought stopped before it floated out of his mouth, though. They were touching from shoulder to thigh, Asher completely in his space again. His fingers trailed absently over Sawyer's thigh, tiny shivers trailing in their wake.

Panic roiled in his chest, his heartbeat tipping up until he cut it off. This was nice. Asher was cool. The windows kept the walls from crowding in, and the shots of yellow and pink blazing through the sky were stunning.

He caught Asher's hand and clasped it in his. “It is,” he finally agreed.

A quiet settled over them and Sawyer gradually relaxed into it. His breathing slowed, heart gentling with each lazy pass of Asher's thumb over the back of his hand.

For Sawyer, this was yet another layer of their deepening connection. The easy comfort without words. No expectations and no pain to hold him grounded. Just Asher, his touch and damn ability to sneak beneath every defense he had.

“I have windows like this,” Sawyer said, breaking the silence, “in my house. But the view is completely different.”

“How so?”

“The view stretches for miles. I get red rock, jagged buttes, straggly shrubs, and trees backed by a sky that stretches forever.”

Asher turned his head to smile at him. “Sounds nice. And dry.”

“It is.” He chuckled. “Until it rains. Then everything turns to mud.”

“We have that problem too. The mud just lasts a lot longer.” Asher squeezed his hand. “I'm assuming the windows help with the claustrophobia?”

“Yeah. Most of the time.” Except when the memories crash in and he can barely breathe.

“Have you always had it? The claustrophobia?”

“No.” Again with the truth, but so few knew enough to even ask him about it, he had no quick responses ready. “I was raised in the outdoors, though,” he dodged, chasing a safer subject that was still far more than he usually revealed. “My parents were late-blooming hippies who got sick of Wall Street and decided to raise their family closer to nature.”

Asher's brows winged up, amusement dancing. “Wall Street to the desert? That's a huge jump.”

“For most, yeah,” he agreed. “But my parents were determined to give us a different life. They always said Black Monday saved their marriage. That if the stock market hadn't crashed in 1987, they would've become another bad statistic of divorce and broken families.” He'd been too young to remember the move, but he'd heard the story every year when they'd celebrated the date. “I was six years old before I learned October nineteenth wasn't a national holiday.”