And at a certain point, he simply stopped fighting, went from clutching at Linc to stroking his arms and back, wallowing in the warmth of his bulk above him. He stopped trying to control the kisses and let Linc have his way because little in his life had been this good. When Linc finally connected with his gland, electric waves of pleasure had him moaning, eyes squishing shut.
“That’s it.” Linc’s words were hot in his ear. “God, you are something else when you finally let yourself take your foot off the gas for a damn minute. Fuck. Look at you.”
Jacob was actually a little glad there wasn’t a mirror, not sure if he wanted to see his desperation—or his bliss.
“Now?” he asked, voice fuzzy like he’d pounded back some shots of Jack. “You proved your point. Slow doesn’t suck.”
“Yeah. It’s good.” Linc’s eyes were glassy, and maybe he was closer to losing control than it seemed because he rolled away to take care of the condom. He was overly generous with the lube, and it was touching, the way he was so reluctant to cause Jacob discomfort. Which was funny because as far as Jacob had figured out that was what fucking was all about—uncomfortable fullness, a deep burn, and it could feel decent especially if the pressure lined up with his spot, but that was far rarer than porn made it seem. The closeness could be nice if it was with someone he liked as well as the accompanying adrenaline rush, but there was a reason he didn’t do this very often.
Rolling him to his side, Linc pushed in from behind him, and as his body tensed up again, he worried that Linc was about to be disappointed. All those efforts to get him to relax and same predictable outcome. But maybe that was for the best. It took away the mystique and the longing and reminded him that this was fucking, not transcendental poetry.
“You can go,” he gritted out, trying to not let on how intense the stretch was.
“Shh. Slow. Remember?” Linc kissed his neck and stroked his torso as he rocked in, slow and steady. The first couple of shallow strokes burned, but then Linc shifted, some minute adjustment to the angle and—
“Fuck. That.” Okay, not poetry, but damn close. It might be fleeting, but his body lit up like a scoreboard, and his dick took renewed interest in the proceedings.
“Yeah? Better?” Linc repeated the thrust, and as things turned out, he was some sort of fucking savant because he did it again and again, finding the exact pressure needed against his gland to have Jacob moaning.
“Fuck, yes. More.” He pushed back, trying to get more, totally willing to reconsider his opinions on fucking if he got to come sometime in the next decade.
Trying to make that happen, he reached for his cock, but Linc beat him to it, hooking one arm around his chest, plastering them together as he stroked Jacob in perfect rhythm with his strokes. Slow but devastating, until it felt like he was cracking from the inside out, little fissures at first, then big hits of emotion and pleasure until he was legit falling apart, broken moans and whimpers and wordless pleas.
He wasn’t sure whether he was begging to come or begging it to never end. Maybe both. All he knew was that he had nothing left to hold back, giving everything to this moment, everything to Linc, even the things he’d tried so hard to hold back. No more rushing away from his feelings, instead drowning in them, every stroke a fresh wave of sensation that went far beyond the physical.
“So fucking good,” Linc growled, tipping him back so they could kiss. He sped up, both his hand and thrusts, his moans joining Jacob’s.
“Please.” He’d never once needed permission to come, but somehow his body had decided on its own to wait for Linc, to need him that intensely.
“Yeah.” Linc made a pleased noise as if he’d been waiting for that final surrender, going harder and deeper now. “Come for me. Get there.”
Yup. That was exactly what he needed, body surging, fucking into Linc’s tight grip, taking everything he had to give. And then he was coming, hard spurts that almost hurt in their intensity, body hanging on to awareness, waiting for Linc’s shout, dishing out the last of its pleasure as Linc came too.
Holy fuck. He’d pretty much assumed that simultaneous orgasms from fucking were a trick of porn editing, but damn if they weren’t both breathing hard, collapsing into a sweaty heap. His muscles protested as Linc withdrew, too sensitive now, but Linc rubbed his arm, more of that unbearable tenderness from him.
“Damn,” he groaned, not pulling away even though he should. “I should have known you’d be too good at that.”
“You thought I’d be bad?” Yawning, Linc rolled away to discard the condom, then pulled Jacob back into his embrace.
“Hoped, maybe.” God, it would be so easy to leave this in the rearview had it been terrible.
“Ah. Well, sorry to disappoint.” Linc didn’t sound particularly apologetic as he yawned again. “Fuck. You wrung me out. Gimme five and I’ll shower with you. Promise.”
However, Linc’s soft snores soon called him a liar as he held Jacob tight in his sleep, far more content than Jacob with his racing mind. He’d made a promise of his own, told Linc that one night would be enough, that it was possible to get beyond this thing between them. He’d been dumb and naive, thinking like that, thinking he could have all this and let it go again. But he had to. He owed Linc.
He waited until Linc was deep asleep, slipping from the bed, covering Linc up and setting his alarm clock for him. Then he showered alone in the hall bathroom, not wanting to risk smashing into a weight machine in the dark in the master. Even the dogs were sleepy, barely rousing from the couches to investigate what he was up to as he penned a fast note on paper he found near the plants and left it in front of the coffee maker. There. He wasn’t being a dick and sneaking out. He was doing what needed to be done, heading out into the chilly darkness of the night, taking with him the memory of every touch, every moan. The memories weighed him down, so much worse than any crush because now he knew, deep in his soul, what he’d be missing for the rest of his life.
Chapter Nine
Linc found the note by the coffee maker. He hadn’t been surprised when he’d awoken alone. Holding on to Jacob wasn’t ever happening, not even in his dreams. He had, however, been startled by his alarm going off. Apparently, he’d slept straight through to the clock going off, someone having helpfully turned it on for him. The same helpful person had left the bathroom pristine, towel neatly on the rack, not even a fogged mirror to indicate Jacob had ever been there. And he didn’t blame Jacob for not having woken him up for what was sure to be an awkward conversation.
It wasn’t like he could expect morning cuddles, breakfast together, and then driving into work. Wasn’t ever happening no matter how cozy the image was. Likewise, neither of them needed to rehash all the reasons they couldn’t do that again. And chances were high that any shower would have simply led to a round three and not anything productive. But even knowing all that, he couldn’t stop the churning in his gut. More disappointment than regret if he was honest, much less guilt than he’d expected.