Chapter 349: Weight On Me.

Chapter 349: Chapter 349: Weight On Me.

Neither of them say a word. Because they both know what comes next; why Loac’s coming towards him, and just what he’s going to do when he reaches him.

Khobi knows. He can feel it in the air; can read it in the sway of his body and his intent gleaming hot and ravenous and clear behind his eyes. And Khobi could stop him.

​But he doesn’t.

​Instead, he turns to meet him. And for all the sound breaking the world outside these four walls, the moment their lips meet it all fades to white.

Loac’s hands are on him in an instant, greedily dragging up the length of his body like he’s been aching to touch him as much and as hungrily as Khobi’s been aching to be touched. It makes him arch; up into his body, into his mouth, and makes him want to touch him right back.

Khobi doesn’t know where exactly the moan comes from, only that it wells up from the depths his throat and spills out into Loac’s mouth like it has it’s own weight, and he has to curl his hands up into Loac’s hair to stop it from lifting up and carrying him away.

It’s not enough; another moan escapes his lips just as the first dies, and like he was waiting for it, Loac’s hands come up up Khobi’s face; crawling, sliding up his heaving chest like they want to find their way under his skin.

And when he cups his jaw with one, he finds the right angle to pry Khobi’s lips apart to steal his breath and kiss him deep and heavy and fuck , when his tongue sinks into Khobi’s mouth, the little sparks of pleasure turn to bolts, firing off down his nerves to his cock and setting him on fire.

​This time it’s a gasp instead of a moan that tears from his lungs, and Loac’s hands card through his hair and wrap around him as his lips work him into a frenzy --fuck, fuck, fuck he didn’t know it was possible to kiss someone like this --and suddenly Khobi’s hands are on him too, pawing at his chest, neck, hair; anything to cling to while Loac fucks his mouth with his tongue deep and desperate and ravenous, like he’s been longing for this just as much as Khobi.

​He needs skin, and he needs it now.

Panting into Loac’s mouth, Khobi tears his way out of his shirt, and his head snaps back as Loac shoves him back against the wall and descends on his throat with his teeth, kissing and sucking and biting up way up to his jaw the way Khobi’s spent so many nights fantasizing.

The smooth planes of Loac’s chest are still damp, but when Khobi arches up against him, hauled in close by the heavy grip of Loac’s hands on his ass, his skin burns like there’s fire building just below the surface.

Eyes sinking closed, Khobi revels in the shape moving against him and the heady mouth on his skin; sinking his nails into the thick lines of Loac’s back.

Because this is what he’s been craving. Loac; his body and his teeth and his everything --taking him, marking him, giving him everything he’s been denying himself.

​Desire, hot and white and all-consuming, starts to take hold, and with his cock already throbbing and the itch within him heavy and insistent, his body starts to move off its own accord; telling Loac what he wants.

​" Yes, " he breathes, as his hips start to move and Loac’s start to move with him.

​"...You have no idea how much I want you," Loac whispers into his throat, his fingers digging into his ass; pulling him open so that he can dip his fingers in and touch him over his clothes, and hips rocking up into Khobi’s slow and deliberate, so that he can feel just hard and ready for him he is.

So that he knows he’s ready to take him however Khobi wants to be taken.

​" Show me ."

​With a low growl, Loac wrenches back, manhandling him until Khobi’s got his chest pressed flush against the wall and his hands splayed against the wood.

And then he’s pressing in impossibly close; hips firm and insistent against his ass, and his lips are on him again; mouthing across his shoulders and beneath his ears, breath hot as he gasps into the crook of his neck.

And Khobi moans and writhes under his touch as his hands work their way up his chest, coursing over his abs and catching on his nipples; finding the ways that he likes to be played with.

He likes being worked a little rough, and sparks of pleasure descend to his cock with every tweak and every squeeze and when Loac’s fingers tightening their grip on his hips, his legs spread to invite him to grind deeper.

​He accepts, dragging Khobi’s ass back against the thick line of his cock, with a hoarse whisper breathed into Khobi’s jaw that makes his cock twitch .

"This how you want me?" Lust has made the smooth timbre of Loac’s voice ragged; so deep and rich and full of chaos and promise of sin that Khobi can’t decide whether he wants him to shut up or keep going.

​Keep going .

​It’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

All those sparks that have been jumping between them have now finally caught alight, and now the inferno blazing within him is running wild and raging.

It has no patience for teasing; the fire needs out . He needs something inside him and he needs it now .

Panting, Khobi pushes off the wall and brings their lips together again with urgency as he shoves Loac towards the bed; it’s filthy and messy but so, so hot, and everything he’s been aching for.

​( Almost everything.)

It’s been far too long since Khobi’s had anyone’s hands on him like this; had anyone’s body against him like this.

He’d forgotten how good it felt. And Loac’s hands feel good ; every searing brush of his fingers as they course across his body makes him shudder with pleasure, and the way they catch on his shoulder blades and the dip of his spine as he traces each each curve, feels both hungry, and reverent.

But just his hands aren’t enough; he wants Loac’s weight on him, under him, inside him --the heat that’s taken over is burning him from the inside out and he needs release.