As if sensing his needs, Damiano moved his head lower, his hot mouth sucking hard hickeys down his neck, his pec, before biting the hard nipple. Jordan moaned, and then moaned louder when Damiano pressed his tongue against it, licking the nipple lewdly, and then sucking. Jordan nearly came, right there.
He wrapped his legs around Damiano, seeking friction, some relief for his stiff, aching cock. He could feel Damiano’s erection against his thigh, and it gave him such a rush. He made it happen. Damiano was hard for him. He needed to see his cock. He needed to touch it. He needed it in his mouth.
Jordan fumbled between them, trying to get Damiano’s belt open and failing—his fingers were shaking too badly.
The other man huffed and, knocking his hands away, made quick work of his belt and zipper. “Get naked,” Damiano commanded.
After much fumbling, Jordan got naked, somehow. The whole thing was complicated by his inability to be parted from Damiano even for a few seconds, their bodies grinding even as they undressed.
Finally, they both were naked, and it felt beyond glorious, to feel so much skin. Jordan’s head was spinning and he was making low, shameless noises as he clung to the man on top of him. They rutted together like animals, Damiano’s teeth in his neck, his body heavy and perfect on top of him. There was no rhythm or finesse to it, it was every man for himself, seeking release from the maddening tension. There, almost there—
Damiano suddenly shoved Jordan’s thighs upward, pressing them together to create friction for his cock between them. God, Damiano was fucking his thighs, using him as a cock-sleeve to get off. It should have felt humiliating or mortifying, but all it did was turn Jordan on. He clung to Damiano’s back with hitching mewls, feeling powerful muscle ripple underneath smooth skin with the rolling rhythm of Damiano’s hips fucking his thighs, the bed creaking ominously, but not loud enough to mask Jordan’s moans. So good—so fucking good…
Jordan grabbed his own weeping cock and jacked off, fast and needy, and much too soon, he was coming all over his hand with a sob.
Damiano fucked him through his orgasm, though his own, each buck messier and shakier than the last until he finally went boneless on top of him, breathing hard, his weight crushing. Jordan couldn’t breathe under him, but he didn’t care. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Even the mess on his thighs felt perfect. He was covered in Damiano’s come. As it should be.
As it should be.
And yet.
It still wasn’t enough. It was so weird. Although he felt physically spent after his orgasm, Jordan still didn’t feel satisfied, somehow still wanting more. He ran greedy hands over the expanse of Damiano’s back, reveling in smooth skin and muscle.
“You don’t have scars,” he murmured. “I thought there would be scars for sure.”
“There were,” Damiano said into his neck. “I’ve had them removed.”
Jordan considered joking about his vanity, but he knew it wasn’t really about vanity at all. It was about the illusion of infallible strength. Scars would show that Damiano had been vulnerable. Weak.
This man couldn’t afford to have weaknesses. Any weaknesses.
“You should go,” Jordan said, looking at the ceiling.
“Yes,” Damiano said, sucking on the tender bruise on his neck.
Jordan bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any embarrassing noises. “Stop that. I can’t go to work looking like I’ve been mauled by a vampire. I’m a department head. People are supposed to respect me.”
“A few bruises won’t make them respect you less,” Damiano said, but he did stop nibbling on his neck and lifted himself on an elbow to look down at him.
Jordan felt his chest tighten as their gazes met. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“You shouldn’t have sent for me, then.”
Jordan glared at him. “I didn’t—”
“Let’s cut the bullshit, caro,” Damiano said, his tone mild but his gaze almost resentful. “We both know your little message was a cry for attention. You knew I wouldn’t ignore it. You knew I’d come to see you.”
Jordan’s face was burning with humiliation. “You didn’t have to come. I hardly forced you.”
The laugh that left Damiano’s throat lacked true mirth. “I had no more agency than a moth that flies to a flame.”
Right. How was he supposed to take that?
“I didn’t make you put your guard dogs on me,” Jordan ground out.
Damiano averted his gaze. “That was just a precaution. I wanted to make sure you didn’t become someone of interest.”
Jordan laughed. “Yeah, and putting bodyguards on me 24/7 didn’t make me someone of interest. Great logic.” He buried his fingers in Damiano’s hair and yanked slightly, forcing him to look at him. “As you say, let’s cut the bullshit. You did it because you’re an emotionally stunted control freak who got a little bit attached and doesn’t know how to express his affections in a healthy way.”