Objects Of His Obsession (21 page)

Benedict couldn’t help
thrusting into that fist. And had to stop that.

Needed this to last longer.

He dragged back, breathing
rough, heart hammering against his ribs.

“Further onto the bed,” he
muttered.

Evander arched a dark brow but
did as Benedict had demanded, glittering eyes watching his lover. Benedict
climbed onto the bed and prowled over, the frustration, the torment of so much
being held back for … Christ, more than half a year, he realized, tearing at
him. So many nights when he’d lain awake, sleepless, dreaming of just what he’d
do to that long, powerful body.

That beautiful cock.

But right at that moment, he
grabbed hold of Evander, and taking him by surprise, flipped him over. Evander
allowed him to. The silken olive skin of the man glided over his ribs in the
golden lamplight as he breathed heavily, hotly aroused.

Benedict knelt back, stroking
his large, roughened hands over that silken skin.

“You’re so… You tear me apart, Evander,”
he managed thickly. “Every moment since Harkenstorn I haven’t been able to get
this out of my mind. Before then it was … not real. My foolishness. But once
we’d had that night together … you took me apart and remade me.”

Evander was very still. And
then he turned his head to look at Benedict.

“You think that night left me
unmarked?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know.”

At the raw vulnerability in Benedict’s
face that lush, carnal mouth curled.

“You marked me, Ben. Believe
me. Your mark was already there. You branded it deeper.”

Benedict shuddered, his
kiss-reddened kips falling into an O. He caught hold of Evander’s hips. “I want
you on your knees,” he muttered.

Evander just gave him one last,
considering look, moved like a lithe, practiced panther, forearms taking his
weight, face against them, his delectable arse in the air, knees spread.

And when Benedict’s hands
grasped his firm arse cheeks, spreading them wide, holding him open for Benedict’s
tongue to sweep up from his balls to his hole, Evander made a rough growl of
satisfaction. That sound encouraged Benedict to lavish that small knot of flesh
with attention, almost devour it, stab his tongue inside, holding Evander open,
grazing the sensitive skin with his stubble, the lash of his tongue. Driving that
tongue as hard as he could into his passage, loving every moment of it.

When Evander had done this to
him the pleasure had been … insane. But that he was driving the other man wild
was obvious.

Evander was pushing into his
mouth, his tongue, his fists clenching on the covers. “Fuck, Ben, yes–”
he ground out. “Oh Christ, yes, yes–”

Much more and Evander was going
to come and Ben didn’t want that yet.

He drew away and Evander
tumbled onto his back, dragged him up over his sprawled body. Kissed him even
as he held his steel hard, silken cock, slowly slid it against Benedict’s, the
precum from them both slicking the glide.

Benedict shuddered against him,
his balls tightening up further. “Going to come,” he gasped, against that hot,
erotic mouth.

“I want you to,” Evander
muttered, his hand sliding over Benedict’s arse. His fingers slid between the
cheeks and pressed against his tight entrance. At Benedict’s gasp he laughed
softly, rawly. Those fingers pressed harder and Benedict groaned, pressed
against them. “I want to see you lose yourself, Ben,” Evander ground out. That
low, smooth voice had become a roughened husk. “No one comes as beautifully as
you do. Lost. Given over to it, totally.”

Benedict groaned something
incoherent and Evander showed him some mercy, his hands gliding up over Benedict’s
hips. The turquoise eyes moved over his lover’s flushed, dazed face.

“That jar, Ben. That oil. Still
got it?”

“Uuhm,” Benedict managed.

Somehow he rolled away from Evander,
got off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Wished he’d had the sense to bring
that damned jar in here before they’d begun this. Because his legs could
scarcely move and his cock … hell, his cock was bobbing with every step, rock
hard. Every step an act of will.

When he returned to the bed Evander
was lying, sprawled back against the pillows he’d pulled up behind his head. A
hedonist to the last.

And the most incredible sight Benedict
had ever seen. That long, lean, muscular body so silken olive in the golden
lamplight, eyes glowing like twin jewels with their thick black lashes.

Mouth so carnal. And his cock
more engorged that Benedict had ever seen it, stretched up, curving over his
flat abdomen, thick, long, brutal.
Beautiful
.

As he watched Evander eased
those long, muscular legs up lazily, beckoned him over with one commanding
hand.

In a daze Benedict came over to
Evander, undid the jar. Tossed the lid to the side table and got onto the bed.
Before he could stop himself he’d bent, grasped that thick, magnificent prick
around its base, and sank his wet lips around it. The taste of Evander burst
onto his tongue, and he teased at that slit, the underside, until Evander
wrenched at Benedict’s sun-streaked hair with his fingers.

“Ben, Christ–”

But Benedict drew him in
deeper, sank down on that thick shaft, jaws aching. Tongue flattened against
the underside. Drew up, using an impossible suction, his fist pumping the base
of that shaft.

“Enough, Ben,” Evander growled,
fingers hard in his hair now, dragging him away.

Benedict looked up, his lips
sealed around the broad, seeping head. At the sight of Benedict’s amber eyes
gazing into his, his mouth on his cock, Evander groaned, rolled his head on the
pillows, sweat breaking out across his temples.

“Enough,” he repeated, fingers
tightening painfully against Benedict’s scalp.

And this time, he used enough
force to drag Benedict’s mouth away from his shaft. As he freed him, he reached
for the jar Benedict had left on the mattress, shifted his hips, his legs
crooked up. Benedict stared at him, panting, wiping the back of his hand over
his tingling lips, not understanding as he saw Evander dig his fingers into the
thick oil and arch his hips as he spread that oil over his cleft. Slide first
one finger, then two, into his own hole. Stretch himself, prepare himself.

“Evander,” Benedict muttered,
in disbelief. And yet those turquoise eyes held his, even as he half winced,
working a third finger inside. Stretched himself, watching Benedict watching
him with his tingling, swollen lips parted in a kind of shock. Absorbing the
lush, obscene sight of Evander’s cock, his balls so exposed, his arsehole being
worked–

Hell, he could not possibly be
meaning– “Evander,” he groaned again.

Even as he felt his own prick
throbbing, Evander had caught him by the arm, drawn him closer. Was dragging
him down for one more kiss, and even as he kissed him, that hand, so oiled
already, was sliding over Benedict’s cock, slicking it liberally.

He fell back against the
pillows, his inken hair sweat damp now against that white linen, the cover
crumpled beneath them. A deep flush ran up his throat, into his face.

“You, Ben. You fuck me this
time,” he said thickly.

Benedict’s cock was throbbing.
He dropped a hand to his shaft, gave it a hard, sharp pinch.
Fuck
– Enough to stop him coming.
For the next sixty seconds, at least.

He was shaking his head,
transfixed by what Evander was offering. But never having dreamt,
thought–

“It doesn’t always have to be
my
cock up
your
arse, Ben,” Evander rasped. “But if you don’t hurry, I swear
to Christ and the angels I will throw you on your back and fuck you through the
mattress myself.”

Benedict gave a choked laugh. He
settled between his lover’s spread thighs, between those knees held up, hips
tilted, Evander holding himself wide open for him and suddenly, he couldn’t
hold back any longer. He took himself in hand and pressed his needy, plum
colored head at Evander’s entrance, and thrust slowly forwards. The tight ring
of muscle resisted, opened. Benedict gasped at the incredible sensation of Evander’s
silken, tight heat working its way around his rigid, pulsing flesh. And then
that tight ring opened up just enough and the head slid inside.

Evander’s raw grunt surprised
him, his eyes flashing to that incredible face.

“Evander?” Benedict managed.
And yet even as he said it, he worked himself in deeper, vaguely registering
how tight Evander was, but sweet Jesus, like silk. Hot silk that rippled about
his head, his shaft–

He hadn’t even allowed himself
to dream this. Imagine this. Just fallen asleep after working his own fingers
inside himself, his hand on his cock.

Remembering Evander buggering
him. Never thinking he would permit him to–

“More,” Evander gritted, but Benedict
ignored him, instinctively not pushing, thrusting hard, slamming into the
beautiful body beneath his. Even though everything told him to.

Slow, he forced himself. Slow.
Hell, no wonder he’d felt so good to Evander, if this silken, heated grip–
A hedonist, suddenly, as his lover was, he had to take it slowly. Savor
it–

“Ben–” Evander warned
him.

But then Evander had thrown his
head back, hands grasping Benedict’s arms, and even as Benedict paused, he
locked his legs around Benedict’s back and thrust forward, using his legs to
drag Ben’s cock deeper.

Benedict was near completely
filling him now. And nearly losing his mind at the sheer pleasure of it. He
dropped his head, lapped at the sweat on the olive silk of Evander’s shoulder.

Bit at the muscle there, lifted
his head to look into Evander’s face.

“Fuck,” Evander hissed.
Panting, sweat drenched, he slumped back, fingers of his oil-free hand caught
in Benedict’s hair, that hand sliding to cup the side of Benedict’s face. He
gasped again, then the beautiful turquoise eyes opened to slits and he said,
“Ben, you feel so fucking good. So good in me. More, Ben. Just do it, do it–”

Benedict did truly lose it
then. All control. Just levered himself up and allowed the blunt, muscular
strength of his body to take over. Began to drive deeper, hard, into Evander
until he’d taken him all, hips flexing up to meet each thrust. Panting, staring
down into the face of the man he loved.

The turquoise eyes were blazing
up at him, Evander’s olive skin sheened with sweat. That lush, sexual mouth
parted as he gasped for breath, his body rocking beneath Benedict’s with every
powerful thrust. And then the beauty before him was too much. He took Evander’s
mouth, kissing him, that kiss returned, devouring, even as Evander’s fingers
raked into the hard muscle of the arse slamming into him, slid across the sweat
dripping down Benedict’s spine.

Evander gasped, bit at Benedict’s
lower lip. Groaned something as Benedict shifted, changed the angle of his
thrusts so that the club of his cock was nailing, dragging over that silken
heat inside his man and he knew he was truly catching that magic spot, right
inside, the one Evander had driven him so wild with.

Because that was what he was
doing to Evander. He could see it in the flail of his head on the pillows.

“Sweet fucking hell,” Evander
groaned, arching, opening, pushing up into him for more. “Harder, Ben. Christ,
I’d swear I can feel you in my throat.
More
–”

Evander’s cock was caged
between their heaving bodies. Benedict could feel the slickness between them,
the sweat, the musk, the scent of two males in rut. And he loved it.

No fragility. No worry that he
might be too rough for the woman he was with, so much more breakable.

No, Evander wanted it like
this. Rough.
Hard
.
Raw
.

Just as he had.

“Touch yourself,” he ground
out, shifting, slamming into all of that undreamt of beauty beneath him with
his full weight, his full strength now. His hips snapping with the motion. “Come.
Come for me.”

Their eyes blazed as they met,
and he felt Evander slide that hand from his heaving arse, wrap it as best he
could about his cock. For a moment or two he watched his lover, eyes shut
tight, his head thrown back, lower lip damned near bleeding, caught between his
white teeth, felt him working the thick, veined flesh between their bodies.

And then Evander roared his
pleasure, and Benedict stilled, in awe at the moment. Heat and lust and the scent
of semen and sweat between them as Evander jetted thick ropes of come up, over
his chest, his throat. He was emptying out, as if he hadn’t come in an
eternity, that pearly seed falling across his jaw, the cleft in his chin.

And Benedict watched, love filling
him, the words bursting on his lips. His tongue.

Tell
him you love him. Tell him, tell him–

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was watch in
awe as Evander fell apart beneath him, at
his
doing, at Benedict’s cock, at what he’d done to this magnificent, glittering
creature he’d loved for too long, could only feel the clench of those inner muscles
along the length of his own prick, fighting his own orgasm because he needed
this so badly. To savor this.