Demming by Avril Ashton

Eleven

Hart released Demming’s face only to cup his nape and tug him forward, into a deep kiss. Demming closed his eyes, allowing Hart to lead. He followed blindly, eagerly, unable to hide the tremors that worked their way through his body.

He was on fire, burning up from the inside out, and Hart was the only one he trusted to help him ease it. His belly tightened, dick hard and pulsing where it pressed against Hart at the thought of what was about to transpire. He was a fish out of water, but nothing about Hart’s tender touch and delving tongue made him feel that way.

With every swipe of his tongue into Demming’s mouth, Hart nudged him and Demming dropped onto the mattress, crawling backward as Hart came down over him, caging him, dropping hungry kisses along his jawline, down the length of his neck, over his shoulders.

Demming cupped Hart’s nape with one hand, the other sliding down his back, stroking his spine as far as he could reach.

This was new in so many ways. He’d never given up control of his body during sex. But he’d never been with a man before and Hart knew what he was doing.

Fuck did he know.

Their skin clung to each other, already damp with sweat from the heat they generated. Demming’s grip on him faltered as Hart kissed his way across Demming’s chest. Mouth on his nipples, one at a time, stiffened tongue flicking, teeth delivering the sweetest pain that had Demming gritting his teeth, head falling back.

There’d been no time for tender and slow at any point during sex in the past. Only a quick in and out, because he hadn’t allowed himself permission to enjoy, to feel, to be. Now, he had no choice.

He loved it.

Hart’s scent filled his nostrils and his larger frame provided a weight that had Demming almost pinned to the mattress. Not quite helpless, but close.

And that shouldn’t feel as good as it did.

Teeth and tongue unraveled him as Hart continued his journey down Demming’s body, settling between his knees.

Demming glanced down, breath hitching at the sight Hart made, expression so hungry when their eyes met. Their gazes clung as Hart touched him, wrapping a hand around Demming’s pulsing cock.

Demming’s entire body jerked. “Fuck!” He grabbed the sheets, yanking, tearing at them. All from a touch.

Hart’s tongue slid over his bottom lip as he stroked Demming. A barely perceptible flick of his wrist dragged his grip from the crown to the base then back.

Demming choked, arched.

“Are you sure?” Hart rasped. “Tell me you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Demming cried out when Hart stroked him again. “Fuck!” His hips rolled, jerking forward, following that touch. “Hart.” His lashes felt heavy and he wanted to close them, throw his head back and savor, but he wanted to see. Didn’t want to miss a move Hart made.

So he kept his eyes open, drawing his knees up as Hart dipped his head, licked his crown.

“Ah, fuck!” Demming bucked. “Fuck!”

It was impossible to stay still, impossible to not be vocal. Hart made a sound then lowered his head again, this time sucking Demming’s wet crown into his mouth.

“Shit!” Demming panted, bucking wildly. His heart thundered in his chest, drowning out his voice, his cries. He knew he called Hart’s name, chanted it over and over, but the pounding in his ears made it impossible to hear.

Hart’s gaze locked on his and didn’t budge as he hollowed his cheeks and proceeded to destroy Demming with his blow job skills. Maybe it was because this entire thing was new, maybe because he felt shit for Hart he hadn’t felt for another soul, but it felt as if Hart sucked his soul out of his dick.

Over and over.

Hart had his entire body levitating off the bed with every wet pull, every glide of his tongue, every twist of his wrist.

Sound fell away. Demming kept his eyes open, but not without Herculean effort. And he watched Hart suck him with lust-glazed eyes and flared nostrils, fingers dipping lower to grasp his balls and massage them.

“Fuck.” Demming rocked into his mouth. “I’m gonna—You—” Where were his words, why couldn’t he find them? His tongue was useless. “Hart, I’m coming.” He tried pulling away, but that grip on his balls, that mouth wrapped around his dick refused to let him go. “I’m—” Heat blasted through him, knocking all his senses loose. He shouted, throat raw, voice hoarse, as the orgasm flattened him and he spilled into Hart’s hungry mouth. His hips jerked and he slammed forward, again and again, helpless, seeking nothing but the pleasure Hart delivered.

His chest ached as he panted.

Hart sucked him down, catching every drop of his seed, emptying him until he had nothing left.

His head flopped back onto the mattress, body heavy, useless, as Hart finally released him and crawled up his body. Demming took his lips, kissing him. Tasting himself.

He groaned as Hart rocked on him, seeking his own release. Demming pulled back, gazing up into his eyes. “Hart.”

“You want me?” Hart cupped his jaw, thumb stroking. “Tell me you want me.”

Demming turned his head, kissing his fingertips. “Please.” He would beg if he had to. His balls were empty, but the itch inside him remained. “I want you.” The truth of it thickened his throat, warped his words until they wobbled and broke between their sweaty bodies.

Hart kissed him—his forehead, his nose, a desperate smack of lips against his. Then he slid off Demming, retrieving the lube, snatching up the condoms. Demming watched him through slitted eyes as he suited up then squeezed a fuckton of lube onto his fingers before reaching below, testing Demming’s hole.

Teasing.

Demming inhaled, parting his legs, inviting him in to do as he wished. As if trepidation wasn’t winding its way down his spine and icing his fingertips.

A finger eased into him. Demming brought his gaze to the ceiling. The pressure of being breached was a new one. Made his heart stutter. Made his breath catch.

“Look at me,” Hart murmured. “Give me your eyes.”

Demming did so as Hart granted him a crooked smile probably meant to ease the knot in his chest. It did nothing but make him ache even more for the things he couldn’t put a name to.

Another finger. Two of them inside him, pushing in, pulling out. The burn held his attention, as did Hart’s eyes, but they didn’t do anything to ease the hunger inside him.

Made him beg though. “Please.” Made his words shake and rumble. “Hart, please.”

Those fingers kept moving inside him, spreading, loosening him for what came next. That thing that stoked the fires in his lower belly and kept his mouth open and his chest heaving.

Atop his belly, his dick twitched and leaked, so he stroked himself as Hart finger-fucked him, hips rocking, ass pushing back, silently begging for deeper and harder.

Hart finally retreated, kneeling up, taking himself in hand and bringing his cock to Demming’s hole.

Lining up.

“Are you sure?” His voice was fucked up, expression tense, as he waited for Demming’s response.

“Yes.” Was he shouting? Felt as if he were. “Fuck, yes. Hart, please.” He’d never begged so much in his life. When was the last time he’d begged for anything?

He didn’t have time to ponder the answer because Hart pressed in.

A raw, guttural sound escaped Demming’s throat. The ache was impossible to escape. It felt as if he were being ripped in two.

Above him, Hart froze. His lips moved and Demming had to swallow in order to clear out the drumbeat in his ears and make out what he was saying. “…okay? Sawyer, should I stop?” His voice and the shaking of his body betrayed his own tenuous grip on control.

He was beautiful and maddening and the very fucking reason for Demming’s heartbeats at that moment.

“Don’t stop,” he growled. “Don’t fucking stop.” He was hoarse—his throat was dry as hell and felt swollen—but he licked his lips. He wanted everything. All.

Hart bared his teeth and canted his hips, sinking in a little more.

Demming panted, knuckles aching where he gripped the sheets. He tilted his ass higher. “More.” It was a demand. “Give me more.”

Hart’s muscles bunched and strained, standing out in his neck and shoulders as he followed Demming’s direction, giving him what he wanted. He went deeper.

Demming’s breath hitched. “Oh, God.”

Deeper.

The pain receded enough for a certain sweetness to be noticed, just a hint of it, that had him rocking back onto Hart in search of more. Hart slid in the last few inches, bottoming out, and a sound unleashed itself from between Demming’s gritted teeth.

He was stuffed and stretched, filled to the point of bursting. Never would he have imagined… “Hart.” He reached blindly for Hart, who lowered himself onto his chest.

Lips on Demming’s throat. Teeth in his lower lip. Nails clawing at his hips.

Dick inside him jerking then retreating. He lifted his left leg, wrapping it around Hart’s waist, trying to stop him from pulling out. Hands lowered to the other man’s ass, fingers sinking into the taut flesh.

Hart thrust in.

“God.” There it was. The pleasure. Wrapping itself around the pain, becoming one with it, fucking Demming’s head up. He chased it, riding Hart, pushing back, catching every retreat.

The itch spread from his lower belly to everywhere, settling under his skin, making him desperate for relief.

Every stroke Hart delivered loosened Demming’s grip on his senses, on his tongue, and he found himself babbling incoherent shit, begging for mercy. Promising things if Hart would never stop.

Grunts filled his ears. His. Hart’s as he fucked Demming deeper and deeper, harder and harder, hips slamming forward, their bodies crashing together over and over.

“Stroke yourself.” Hart sounded as if he were on the precipice. “Fuck, Sawyer. Do it. I can’t—”

Demming licked his palm and fisted his sticky cock that had softened when Hart first entered him. He stroked himself with his mouth open, body vibrating, as he watched Hart. The other man’s gaze drifted from Demming’s face down to where he stroked himself and lower to where their bodies were joined.

Hart’s breath hitched and his hips jerked wildly, more desperate. “Can you come again for me?” His pounding became more painful and less coordinated. “Please, Sawyer. I—”

Demming’s heels dug into the mattress as Hart’s nails cut into him. All he had to do was ask. All he had— “Ah, shit!” The orgasm this time wasn’t as forceful as the last one, but it still had him convulsing.

“Fuck!” Hart slammed into him once more, grounding against him. “Fuck! Sawyer, fuck!”

Even through the condom, Demming felt the heat of his release. Hart throbbed inside him, freezing above him for a moment before collapsing atop his chest.

Demming released his cock, swiping his hand across the sheet to get rid of the cum, then wrapped both arms around the other man.

They trembled and vibrated together. Hearts pounding, sweat dripping.

He pressed a kiss to Hart’s temple.

When the other man shifted, Demming winced.

And then he smiled.