Chapter 417: You’re My Drug.

Chapter 417: Chapter 417: You’re My Drug.

But at least Khobi doesn’t know. Or if he does then Loac can at least take solace in that it doesn’t make him want him any less.

Because that night when the door closes on the world beyond their room he still pushes him down onto the bed and crawls up his body with those red eyes blazing for him.

Loac hates the idea that they might someday blaze for someone else, but for now they’re his so he’ll be greedy, and when Khobi takes his face in both hands and kiss him hard and deep and achingly, agonisingly slow, he feels the desire well up within him like a tidal wave surging towards the shore.

​But Loac doesn’t want slow.

Even without the turbulent emotions clouding up his thoughts he’s feeling pent up, and when they’re curled into each others bodies, rocking, breathing, gasping like they’re one he doesn’t trust himself.

Hasn’t trusted himself since that time Khobi’s given name spilled off his lips like a prayer.

​(Maybe that should’ve been a clue.

​Huh .

​Seems like there were an awful lot of clues.)

​In any case, Loac doesn’t want slow tonight. Especially not know that he knows.

​It’s a shame Khobi has other plans for him. Because tonight he’s in no hurry; languidly grazing his hips against Loac’s crotch as his tongue savours every corner of his mouth. There’s no fervour this time, no frenzy.

Just blinding, all-consuming heat, and the heavy drag of Khobi’s lips on his.

​But the frenzy will come. It always does when they’re together like this.

​First though, Loac lets himself enjoy this heat; the deepening grind of Khobi’s weight against his lap working his cock to life and the light, teasing way their tongues meet, part, and dive for each other again.

Because there’s no hiding his ravenous nature; there’s fire building in Khobi’s lips with every brush, and the heat of his erection through his clothes gives away just how hot he is for Loac’s touch, tells him just how badly he wants him.

​So good.

​Loac’s hands start wandering, shucking up the back of his shirt until Khobi extracts himself from his mouth long enough to pull it off over his head.

There’s dusk in his red eyes; their bright crimson consumed by shadows as he looms up over him; balanced with his legs spread to either side of Loac’s hips.

Khobi’s gaze flits down his body, burning with anticipation as he slowly reaches out to pluck open the buttons of Loac’s shirt, one by one.

And with each graze of his fingertips against his skin, Loac’s breath comes a little harder. A little faster.

​"...You trying to seduce me, Khobi?" he whispers huskily as he watches him work his way down his body, blue eyes just as dark; just as hungry.

​"What do you mean trying ?" Khobi murmurs back, and Loac obligingly cants his hips so he can slide his pants down over his hips. "It’s working, isn’t it?"

​Of course it’s working.

​When Khobi clambers back atop his hips he’s completely naked and –Loac is very pleased to see –already mouthwateringly hard.

There’s a small smirk toying at the edge of his lips like he knows Loac likes what he sees, and how can he not? Khobi’s made of curves and edges in all the right places and now that he’s bared before him, Loac drinks it all in; relishing the weight settled against his hips and grazing his fingers over old scars and light bruises, and fading marks that he’s left there on nights gone by.

And there are plenty of them, but somehow still so much space there ripe for the marking.

​He’s not usually quite so mouthy.

But he wants to leave reminders all over him, so that anyone else who might chance upon them will know that he was there first.

​(And he likes when Khobi does the same to him.)

Loac’s gaze flits up to Khobi’s face, and finds that for as intently as he’s staring at him, Khobi’s staring back just as fiercely, and when he ruts his cock up against Khobi’s ass, those red eyes drift shut like he’s savouring the feel of Loac’s body just as much as Loac’s savouring his.

One of his hands reaches blindly for Loac’s cock, jaw dropping open in anticipation as he curls his fingers around the length and gives him a few firm strokes.

​A hiss leaves Loac’s lips, and when his hips reflexively twitch up, Khobi’s rock instinctively rock down to meet him. Slow.

Deliberate.

​Not enough.

​Hungry for more (always hungry for more) Loac sets at working a single finger inside him.

He always likes this part; getting Khobi ready for him, getting to see his face contort with pleasure, anticipation, need. Getting to feel his body tense and clench, then swallow him whole.

And usually he’d play, tease him a bit; dip in and out until he’s coiled so tight he’s on the verge of shoving him away and doing it himself, but his cock is aching and Khobi’s ass is waiting, and when a second finger, slipping in alongside the first has Khobi grinding back to meet him with a soft whine, he knows this has all been a ploy to get him riled up.

​Breath shaking and jaw hung loose, Khobi rides his hand; hips jerking and legs spread wide and a hand fisted into the meatiest part of his ass in an effort to bring Loac deeper.

​"...That’s enough," he whispers, breathes, just as he moves to add a third.

​"You sure?" Loac murmurs back, and the urgency with which he nods gives away that he’s getting impatient, too.

But still, he keeps it slow, rocking against him with unbelievable restraint; rubbing his ass against the line of Loac’s cock, letting the head lightly breach him before shying away.

It’s so close and not enough, and the barely-there promise of heat waiting for him rips an agonised groan from the wells of Loac’s throat.

It’s obvious that he’s tormenting himself as well though; Khobi’s cock’s already a deep, lusty red, and dripping like he’s going to come the moment he’s penetrated.

​"Yeah," Khobi breathes, sweat already beading on his brow and those eyes, those eyes gleaming with desire.

"I’m good." He lets Loac line himself up, then brings Loac’s hands to his chest, drags them down his body, holds them against the flat planes of his stomach so that he can feel the way his body responds.

Loac loves this part too; getting to watch the moment Khobi gets what he’s been craving. It’s a sight to behold; the twitch of his cock, the light quaking of his shoulders and his thighs, and his brow knitted tight with focus as he works himself open on the thick tip of Loac’s cock.

Under his palms Loac feels his body straining; Khobi’s abdominals contracting as he sinks lower, and his chest hitching and then finally relaxing as he bottoms out with Loac completely, perfectly sheathed inside him.