He stopped as he traced his tongue-tip over Rian’s cock-head again, then whispered, “You want me to find another way to make you scream? ’cause when it’s you and me together...it ain’t just me doing the work, babe.”
Rian made a keening, almost mortified sound, his chest heaving—but as he pressed the backs of his knuckles to his mouth, he nodded, exhaling slowly.
“Please,” he breathed.
“Thought I’d have to try harder to make you beg,” Damon growled, pushing himself up to slide up Rian’s body—and stole Rian’s shocked, offended indrawn breath in a kiss. One that Rian fought him on briefly, not pushing him away but biting him, lashing at him, making him work for it, and Damon was only too glad to bite back, tangle their tongues, crush their mouths together until Rian went soft underneath him again, submitting and surrendering with his fingers lacing against the back of Damon’s neck and his tongue gliding in erotic strokes along the length of Damon’s.
It didn’t stop, kiss turning deep and slow and needy as Damon worked his hand between them to snag Rian’s clothing, dragging his jeans and briefs the rest of the way down, Rian’s legs kicking to fling them and his sandals away until he was naked from the waist down and clinging to Damon as if Damon was his only shield for decency.
As if Damon didn’t intend to do entirely indecent things to him.
And he was reluctant to part their lips, reluctant to pull away from all that heated, smooth bare skin...but he had no choice, as he leaned away from Rian to reach between the front seats, feeling about until he snagged on the catch of the glove box and flipped it open. He stretched to reach inside, until his fingers slipped against the smooth glass sides of a bottle; he caught it in his fingertips, pulling back to relax atop Rian again, propping himself up on one arm while he squinted at the print on the back.
Only to find Rian looking up at him flatly, his eyes narrowed.
Damon stopped, blinking. “What?”
“...why do you keep lube in your glove compartment?”
“We can answer that or we can fuck.” Damon arched a brow, smirking. “Not both.”
Rian sniffed. “Seems cruel to make it a choice.”
Damon tilted his head—while Rian turned his face away, lips pouting. Damon blinked.
Oh.
He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smile. “My last boyfriend left it there and he never took it out, Ri,” he murmured. “I checked the expiration date. It’s fine.”
But that only made Rian’s lips thin, cheeks flushing. “So you and your last boyfriend made a habit of having sex in this car?”
“Me and my last boyfriend never made it past first base, but guess he was an optimist.” Damon leaned down and nuzzled at Rian’s cheek, coaxing, brushing his lips against Rian’s jaw. “You jealous?”
Rian made a sulky noise—but after a few moments his arms slipped around Damon’s shoulders again, his fingers playing in light patterns between his shoulder blades. “I don’t own you,” he said softly. “Even if I did, it’s terribly ridiculous of me to care about your past sexual escapades, isn’t it?” His voice trailed off, halting, hitching, before he turned his head enough that his lips moved against the corner of Damon’s mouth. “You’re here now.”
“I am,” Damon said, catching Rian’s mouth in a slow, sighing kiss before pulling back. “And I’m having some weird goddamned feelings about you getting huffy over me like that.”
Rian looked up at him uncertainly, eyes glimmering; he said nothing, but those delicate fingertips touched Damon’s lips...then drew him down, pulling him into another kiss. Damon had never thought the two of them, as wild as they were, could kiss this sweet, this lazy and tender and warm...but he sank into it, taking his time, letting it fill him up to answer this goddamned craving inside him that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with Rian. But he couldn’t resist touching Rian, either, stroking over his body, teasing his thighs apart, drinking in his sighs and the tiny sounds of pleasure that told Damon when he found all those sweet spots that stoked the desire between them deeper and deeper, one breath at a time; one moment at a time.
And when he coated his fingers from the slick little bottle of lube, when he slid them between the cleft of Rian’s ass and stroked that smooth oil into his skin...
He tasted every last one of Rian’s moans, his whimpers, his needy little cries as Damon teased him, stretched him, worked his fingers inside to fill him. He hardly felt the heavy, aching, insistent throb of his own cock, ignoring it for the pleasure of making Rian twist and whine and beg in wordless whispers; for the entirely captivating immersion of sinking into Rian’s gasping, kiss-swollen lips to taste him as deep as Damon touched him, stroking delicately both above and below until Rian was a trembling mess underneath him, his cock pulsing against Damon’s belly and wetting his skin through his shirt, his fingers digging hard into Damon’s upper arms every time Damon searched for just...a little...more.
Groaning, barely holding himself in check, Damon nibbled at Rian’s lower lip. “You like that, sweetheart?” he whispered. “You want me?”
“Yes,” Rian sighed, so liquid and lax underneath him. “Damon, please...”
“Careful,” Damon warned, going still as longing rocked through him in a demanding surge. “You’re gonna make me lose it, you say my name like that.”
As if he had any restraint. As if he had any goddamned sense where Rian was concerned, and Damon only parted them long enough to slip his fingers from inside Rian, rip his own shirt off just because he fucking needed those soft hands against his skin, and then drag his jeans open and down around his hips. His cock fucking hurt, pulsing furiously after being confined while he grew harder and harder, hungrier and hungrier...but there was no holding himself back now. He poured a fresh pool of glistening, dripping lubricant into his palm and closed his eyes, curling forward with a ragged groan as he stroked the silky texture over his entire length, desire scraping ragged teeth down his spine and nearly chewing him to fucking pieces. He closed his eyes for a heated moment.
Then opened them on the sight of Rian stretched out beneath him, waiting, watching him with an answering hunger in those tawny eyes.
“Fuck,” Damon breathed.
And let the magnetism between them crash them together.
He nearly fell against Rian, gathering that slender frame up against him, kissing him ravenously, deeply, clutching at him as firmly as Rian clutched right back, those slim thighs parting for him and the inside of one stroking against his waist coaxingly as Rian opened himself, spread himself, gave himself up to Damon so wholeheartedly that when Damon’s cock-head pressed against Rian’s ass, it felt almost too easy to slip into him. As if those soft, tight inner walls had been made to take him; as if Rian’s body opened up to draw him in deep, plunging into molten, rippling pressure and pleasure made up of gliding-wet sensations and gripping convulsions and the feeling of flesh to stroking, needy flesh until he sank in to the root and Rian enveloped him fully.