Note: I was sick. To celebrate my recovery (and the leftover pumpkin pie I'll be eating until the xmas) I'm updating daily this week :)!! This part is a tad NC-17, but it's important events-wise. Promise:
Gentry ran his tongue down Zach’s chest, down his stomach, over the sticky-wet skin. There was nothing coy about it, nothing apologetic about the way Zach writhed into his lap, and then arched against the coarse fingertips which relentlessly stroked him where no one else could. Stroked him how no one else had. Fingertips all at once battered and strong, just slick enough not to break him in half. There was nothing shy about the soft pleading, nothing deceptive about the nervous sweat which trickled down the back of his neck.
Zach’s legs were straddled over Gentry’s lap, bare feet every so often kicking against the back of the Maplewood chair. It would probably leave a mark, but that wasn’t important. Zach wasn’t aware of it, or how tightly his arms were wrapped around Gentry’s neck, his natural fear of falling, in the reassurance of the strong arms which kept him steady as each excruciatingly slow thrust pushed him closer. Closer to coming, closer to leaving, closer to him.
Coming was not the best part, it was right before… that little space in time when Gentry first pushed inside him, when he slowly fell apart. When he no longer cared about showing off or who had control, and finally betrayed how much he needed this.
Behind tightly closed lips was the silent whisper which needed no voice; unspoken words reflected in the depths of his eyes. Later he’d play it off, shrug it away. But in that moment…
In that moment, Zach knew he could hurt him. He could catch him off-guard, he could make him admit every weakness and make him beg for even the slightest sliver of affection— Beat him down and use him. But he never did. Because…
In that little moment in time, he felt closer to him than anyone in the world.