The bed creaked loudly, its springs protesting Damien’s rapidly shifting weight. He was quiet, panting as he glanced back over his shoulder, his blue eyes hooded and deep-black with arousal. Balancing on his elbows, he faced the foot of the bed, moving his knees apart to tilt his ass up for Sionn’s appreciation.
It was a sight he could grow used to. Wanton and vulnerable at the same time, the musician crouched there, open and desirable, the very essence of a sensual experience Sionn wanted to bury himself in. The pucker of Damien’s ass flexed, instinctive and inviting, and Sionn blew a kiss into the shadowy cleft, watching the skin purl in response.
Sionn slapped the man’s ripe cheek and left a pink mark on Damie’s pale skin, then cracked open the lube bottle and dribbled a line of it down Damien’s crease. He hissed at the cold, grumbling at it until Sionn bent forward and bit down on his ass, dimpling the skin with his teeth. The hiss turned into a growl, then a gasp, when Sionn’s fingers caught up the dripping lube and spread it around Damien’s opening, working at the edges of his entrance.
“Fuck. God, I forgot how good that fucking feels.” Damien bent his head forward, his hair falling around his face. “Sionn… Irish… come on, man. Just give me—”
“You are the most impatient—” He lost his control as Damie slid back, piercing himself on Sionn’s finger. Already swallowed up past the first joint, Sionn pushed farther in, working as much of the lube into his lover as he could. Damie gyrated around his intrusion, a foul stream of begging and cajoling coming from his hidden pretty mouth.
Leaning over, he poised the head of his cock at the edge of Damien’s furrow, seating his gloved tip into the man’s moist heat. Gripping Damien’s hips, Sionn ran his tongue over the ridge of Damie’s ear and nipped at the crinkled fold with his teeth.
“Hold on, Damie love,” he whispered, suckling the spot he’d bitten. “Let’s see how close we can fly to heaven.”
FUCK, the guy was huge. Damien knew how big Sionn was. He’d had the man in his mouth, for God’s sake, but even the blunt edge of him poised at the lip of his body burned.
And he wanted more.
There were too many things swimming around in his head. People—memories—emotions. He needed to find something to hold onto. Something solid and comforting. A something like the Irish-accented, silver-eyed man who brought him coffee in the morning hours before the sidewalk filled with people and who hid a soft heart behind a gruff daily Dread Pirate Roberts ritual of reminding Damie he’d have to move on one day.
And it was Sionn’s voice who whispered in the darkness of his nightmares, “As you wish.”
His fingers crumpled the old-fashioned quilt on Sionn’s bed when he grabbed fists of faded calico rings and ivory cotton. The room was much like Sionn himself, warm and comfortable, dressed with old polished wood, and smelling of lemon oil. He’d been unwilling to lie on the bed. It was too… welcoming, as if it could be a place he would finally be able to lay his head down and rest.
Then, in the circle of Sionn’s arms, Damien feared he would never want to leave, even when Sionn turned him out and moved on.
“Just think about now, D,” he muttered, arching his back to take the man into him. Now was all that mattered. He could hold onto his memories of Sionn, using them to warm him on those nights when he was dead inside. “Take what you can. Just like always.”
The burn was immense, a sticky almost-pain stretching him apart until Damien felt torn open. He knew better. He’d done this dance countless times before, but the slow, steady rubbing along his spine and the sweet, fluid sounds of a language he didn’t understand were a different rhythm than he remembered.
He couldn’t find any place in his mind when sex wasn’t a plunge into hot, quick pleasure. There were no faces in his fragmented thoughts. No one person emerging from the ocean of masks and pain. Damien strained to recall anyone, pushing at his recollections until his head hurt more than the push of Sionn into the depths of his heart.
He’d meant to think body, even as his mind whispered, No, Damie. He’s pushing into your heart.
Damien knew he’d meant to believe Sionn’s cock spearing through him hurt… even slightly… but there was nothing there but the pressure and then a sliding pleasure he couldn’t contain. Sex was never pretty. He’d never known it to be. Then Sionn gently lowered him to the bed, sliding a pillow beneath the hollow of his belly, and Damien saw a flicker of something intangible at the edge of his pleasure, a wrapping of sensations around him he couldn’t grab as it slid by.