Icebound

Drake kisses him.

The power flares in Shane’s hand, then arcs back into his body, setting his nerves alight with electricity, contorting his spine into an arch of gasping shock as Drake’s mouth closes over his, hard and wet and wanting. That thing in his chest, that spark of pain in the middle of the ever-present cold, flares white-hot, a searing agony that brings actual tears to Shane’s eyes, and god, if anything’s ever felt so good he doesn’t remember it.

For a moment, the pain overwhelms him until he feels a little like himself again, like the words, Nice try, baby, you think I’m that easy? are on the tip of his tongue, an easy teasing smile, a hand twined gently with his. With the taste of Drake so strong on his tongue, the hard planes of his body pressed against him, it’s easy to pretend that they’re not in a filthy alley but in their old apartment, practice blades tossed to the ground during a sparring session where they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other, panting and sweaty and hungry.

Maybe he’s not the only one who feels it.

Shane’s back hits the brick wall again as Drake shoves him, pressing him there with all his weight, and no matter how strong and lithe Shane is Drake’s always been a huge guy, would be intimidating if not for the open honest kindness of his features. The weight of him feels good, something immediate and searingly hot when everything’s been ice for so long. Then they’re both grabbing, yanking and tearing at clothing, totally absorbed in the fervent need for each other that’s never gone away, not really.

Drake’s hand comes up to fist in Shane’s hair, his eyes intensely blue as he yanks his head back. “You hard?”

Shane lets out a strangled noise, hips rutting forward involuntarily against Drake’s thigh, showing him just how much. “Yes. For you. Please.”

He sees it, that wavering, desperate look in Drake’s eyes that he knows better than anyone in the world, and it makes him tremble. His legs spread, his mouth goes dry, and he nods quickly, muttering, “Do it, it’s okay, I want it, it’s me.”

Dear, sweet, honest, kind, saintly Drake. He’s always been the sort of man to make the simpering ladies at his church swear that it’s possible to have a man without a mean side, it’s possible to be human without having an ounce of darkness in the soul.

In his less sober moments, Shane’s always wanted to dare those women to try fucking Drake and see if they still believe that afterwards.

Big hands close around his hips, pulling him close just to slam him back into the wall again, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. Drake’s mouth is hungry on his, biting sharply into his lip, down his neck, hoisting him up careless of the brick scraping Shane’s back. “You like to talk so much,” Drake growls, hands tight enough to leave bruises on even Shane’s hips. “Open your mouth. Beg me. Like a whore.”

There’s nothing fake, nothing artificial about the way Shane whimpers, hands splayed over Drake’s chest as he moans, “Please. Fuck me. Need you, please, baby.”

Drake’s hands catch Shane’s wrists, forcing them over his head and holding them there with one big hand. “Want you to suck me off first,” Drake breathes, every muscle in his body quivering with suppressed emotion, “but I can’t wait. Spread your legs.”

He yanks Shane around, grabbing him and arranging him the way he wants him, like a compliant rag doll, until his legs are wrapped around Drake’s waist, his hands pinned above his head. Drake shifts forward, rubbing his cock up against Shane’s hole, teasing, pressing just a little, and Shane’s mouth falls open. A surge of need shoots through him—need it want it more than anything missed this missed you need it oh GOD put it in me—and he’s not even sure how much he says out loud, every fiber of his body squirming around to try and slam himself down, to have it again after so long. “Please!”

“Do that thing or it’ll hurt. Me,” Drake adds, coppery eyes gone dark. “We both know you like it when it hurts.”

It’s the work of a bare thought to slick Drake’s cock, the only spell he can ever think of when he’s like this, horny and desperate and needing, twisting against the hold on his hands, trying to fuck himself down on that perfect thick cock, something he knows better than his own hand, even after all these years apart.

Drake’s not gentle when he thrusts in, and he doesn’t go slow, rough and brutal as he fucks Shane into the brick wall, spreading and stretching him with every snap of his hips. Shane lets out stupid, embarrassing sounds, little breathy shrieks because it’s too much, no matter how many times they’ve done this it’s always too big, always too much, always too hard.

And he always loves it.

Drake’s free hand wrenches his hair back, then slides down to close around his throat, feeling his blood pulse in time with every pounding thrust.

It’s good, a different kind of pain than he’s used to, and with every crash of Drake’s hard body against his he feels, he remembers the things that usually slip away from him, carried off by the apathy. He remembers what it was like to be thrown over their old sturdy table, fucked until he came over the glass panel, then held down by his hair until he licked it all up. He remembers the night they broke the bed, when he hadn’t been able to sit down for three days because he’d refused to heal himself. He remembers getting fucked in the bedroom, the shower, the kitchen, the living room, over the couch, against every wall, on the floor like a dog.

Shane writhes under Drake’s big hands and the punishing thrusts of his cock, slamming himself down no matter how much it hurts, his own cock hard and leaking between them. “F-fuck, I—”

“Don’t talk.”

Shane shuts up.

He’s so full he aches, that he’s reduced to a trembling, twitching thing, clenching down on the demanding length filling him, pressing inside him so right, stealing his breath and making him see stars.

“Gonna come for me?”

Shane nods frantically, hands twisting to try and slip Drake’s hold, to wrap around himself, but if anything the fingers only close tighter around his wrists. “Slut. You’re really aching for my cock.”

That’s all it takes, filthy words falling from such a gentle-looking mouth. Shane cries out, every muscle gone tight, his legs clenching hard, writhing so much he scrapes his own back against the wall and doesn’t care. Every little pain adds to the wave that crashes over him, making him spill hot and wet between them.

Just like that, just at the look in Drake’s eyes, predatory and focused, he knows he’s going to come inside. With a curse and a groan, Drake slams forward, burying himself to the hilt and it’s too much, too much

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.