Damie was a lot stronger than the man who tried to kill his spirit, and Sionn was in awe of that strength.
No, the man’s high cheekbones and succulent mouth were gorgeous, but the set of Damien’s shoulders as he shook off his nightmares and stepped out into the day made Sionn’s heart beat faster. And when he coaxed a slithering, sensual purr out of Damien with a few strokes of his hands, Sionn would swear he could come just from the sound alone.
Damien had stashed the cowboy hat someplace in the warehouse, protecting it from Sionn making good on his promise to burn it, but it definitely did its job in shielding Damien’s silken mane from the sun and wind. Running his hands through Damien’s long black hair, Sionn rubbed away the ache he knew lingered in the scars under the man’s scalp. Sighing, Damien relaxed under him, his dark blue eyes hooding while he nearly writhed in Sionn’s hands.
His long neck beckoned, and Sionn succumbed, lowering his lips to the beat pulsing beneath Damie’s pale skin, biting at the spot. Damien’s heart pounded blood through him, his excitement playing over Sionn’s tongue with each fluttering push from his chest. Worrying at the spot, Sionn dipped his hand down, searching for the other man’s long cock.
Cupping his lover’s length, Sionn drew his head up and smiled at Damien’s flushed face. He ground his hips into Damien and whispered, “Do you know what I want?”
“Kind of hoping you’ll tell me so we can get this party started,” Damien growled. He thrust his hips up, dragging his sex back and forth in Sionn’s loose grip.
Sionn tightened his hold on Damien’s cock, lightly scraping his nails over the sensitive skin. “I want this in me. You up for it, Damie boy?”
“Thought you’d never ask, Irish.” The grin Damien shot him was heartbreaking and sexy. A dimple flashed in his cheek, a rare appearance given Damie’s tendency to smirk. Sionn licked at the crease and slid his mouth over Damien’s to kiss him soundly. Coming up for air, Damien broke away and shoved at Sionn’s shoulders. “Get on your back, Murphy, and let me show you how a real man does this.”
“Really now, boyo?” Sionn snorted but allowed himself to be pushed back into the sheets. “So I’ve not been satisfying you?”
“Guess not.” Damien’s face was somber, but a teasing lilt tugged at his words. “I think you’re going to have to try harder. You know, practice. We’ll need a lot of practice.”
“One thing, love.” Sionn cupped his lover’s cheeks, his hands nearly lost in the curtain of black hair shrouding their faces. “You okay with this? With us?”
He didn’t want to bring up the man’s mother, but she clung to the air around them, a ghost of ill intent lurking at Damien’s side. Her body had been signed out of the morgue by a lawyer, whisked away before Damien had a chance to arrange for a service. Challenging the release, they’d found out she’d been cremated, the crime lab clearing the disposal of her remains some time before Damien discovered his mother’s body been taken.
“You’re all I’ve got, Irish.” Damien’s hooded eyes were nearly ebony, their bright blue dulled in the shadows. “You and Miki. I need this. I need you. I need you to make me feel alive right now, Murphy. I want to feel you around me; then I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk. Anything you want. Just… remind me I’m alive.”
“That I can do, love,” Sionn promised.
They’d both bled on a stick, as Damien put it, but their time together had slipped away into exhaustion and quick fumbling hand jobs during showers. Torn apart by appointments and police interviews, Sionn found himself able to take the time to reacquaint himself with his lover’s body, and from the speculative look on Damien’s face, it appeared the guitarist was thinking the same thing.
“You want to do this…?” Damien’s fingers sought out the stretch of Sionn’s foreskin and played with its hem as his cock lengthened to shove back its hood. “Without… you know….”
“Yeah,” Sionn murmured. “I want to feel you when you lose it, love. Can’t think of a better way to spend the evening.”
“Sticky?” The other man chuckled, reaching for the bottle of lube they’d left on the nightstand.
“Aye, boyo.” Sionn tugged at Damien’s nipple, pinching the nub between his fingers. “Let’s get a little sticky.”
The bottle got lost amid the crumpled sheets, but Sionn knew it would probably find him with its sharp-edged cap as soon as they started rolling around on the bed. He was more interested in the cut of Damien’s teeth on his shoulder, especially when he felt the press of Damie’s oiled fingers stroking his taint.