Chapter 65 Episode 65: Desire R19

Kael’s POV

Akira’s room smelled like him. Not the faint, everyday trace that clung to his clothes or the pillow he sometimes left behind at my place.

This was pure and concentrated Akira; warm skin, the soft sweetness of whatever lotion he used. And underneath it that faint, addictive edge that always made my cock twitch the second I caught it.

I was sitting on the edge of his bed, my elbows lapped on my knees, trying to breathe through my mouth like that would help. But nooo, it didn’t. Every inhale just pulled more of him into my lungs until my blood felt thick and hot.

Down the hall I could hear their voices. Akira’s soft, careful tone as he tried to calm his mother, her sharper replies that eventually softened.

She was saying something about dinner and then how he didn’t need to fuss. I stared at the floor and counted the seconds, jaw locked so tight my teeth ached.

My hands were fists on my thighs. I wanted to go out there, put myself between them, but I stayed put like I’d promised.

And I sang it like a mantra in head, be good. Don’t make it worse.

My body didn’t seem to get the memo.

I was fucking hard. Painfully and embarrassingly hard, like a teenager who just hit fucking puberty. And it was just from the scent of him soaked into the sheets and the knowledge that he was only a few rooms away. I pressed the heel of my palm against the front of my jeans and hissed through my teeth.

Not now. Not here. Not with his mother in the house. I couldn’t make that move now.

The door opened.

Akira stepped in carrying a plate of soup, steam curling up around his face. His hair was a little messy from whatever conversation he’d just had, cheeks still faintly pink.

He looked soft. Domestic. Like he belonged in this room, in this house, and somehow impossibly, like he belonged with me.

The image hit me without any warning.

Him in our kitchen someday. Not this one though. Ours. Me coming home from work, money in the account, stress on my shoulders, and him waiting with that same gentle smile, calling himself Mrs. Vixar like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My name on him. My mark. My everything. He’d be soft and pretty and mine, and I’d take care of every single thing so he never had to worry again.

The plate was in my hands before I realized I had stood up. I set it on the nightstand with more force than I meant to. The soup sloshed a bit but I didn’t care.

"Kael?" His surprised tone came out but I was quick to silence it.

I had him against the bed in two strides. My hands found his waist, then the backs of his thighs, and I lifted him like he weighed nothing.

He made a small sound of surprise that turned into a gasp when his back hit the mattress. I followed him down, knees bracketing his hips, and crushed my mouth to his.

Akira didn’t freeze.

He opened for me immediately, lips parting. His tongue sliding against mine like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His hands fisted in my shirt, then shoved it up so his palms could press against my bare stomach.

Our contact burned. I groaned into his mouth and ground my cock against the soft give of his thigh, letting him feel exactly how hard I was. For him. He made me this hard.

"Fuck," I muttered against his lips. "You smell like you. Everywhere. Driving me insane."

He arched under me, hips rolling up to meet the next grind. "Kael..." His whiny voice sounded.

I kissed him harder, deeper, swallowing the rest of whatever he was going to say. My hand slid under his shirt, palm dragging over warm skin until I found a nipple and rolled it between my fingers. He whimpered.

The sound went straight to my dick. I pinched harder just to hear it again, then shoved the fabric up so I could get my mouth on him. I licked, sucked, scraped my teeth over the sensitive peak while my other hand worked the button of his pants open.

Akira’s fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away. When I got his zipper down and slipped my hand inside, the heat of him made my head spin.

He was already hard, already leaking, the head of his cock slick against my palm. I stroked him once, slow and firm, and he moaned loud enough that I had to kiss him again to keep the sound from echoing.

"Quiet," I growled, even though the idea of anyone hearing his voice only made me harder. "Gonna make you come just like this if you keep making those noises."

He nodded frantically, eyes glassy and lips kiss-swollen. I shoved his pants and underwear down far enough to free him completely, then did the same to myself.

The second my cock sprang free it slapped against his, and the wet slide of us together punched a broken sound out of both of us. I wrapped my hand around both shafts and thrust, slow and deliberate, letting the friction build. Precome smeared between us, making everything slicker, hotter.

Akira’s legs came up around my hips. He pulled me closer, rocking up into every stroke like he couldn’t get enough. I braced one hand beside his head and used the other to keep us aligned, cock sliding against cock, the head of mine catching under the sensitive ridge of his on every pass.

His scent was everywhere now. It was on my skin, in my mouth and fucking thick in the air between us. I wanted to bury my face between his legs and breathe him in until I drowned.

I kissed down his throat, sucked a mark just above his collarbone, then lower, teeth grazing the soft skin of his chest.

My free hand shoved his shirt higher so I could cover his other nipple while I kept stroking us. He was trembling under me, thighs tight around my waist, little punched-out sounds falling from his lips every time I twisted my wrist just right.

"Look at you," I rasped against his skin. "Taking it so well. Gonna look even better when I finally get inside you. Spread out for me, soft and open, wearing my name like I fucking own you."

Akira’s cock jerked hard in my grip. A fresh pulse of wetness spilled over my fingers. He was close. So was I. The future I’d imagined earlier kept flashing behind my eyes, him in my bed every night, marked and claimed, answering to Mrs. Vixar with that shy little smile and it only made the need for him worse.

I wanted to push his knees higher, spit on my fingers, work him open until he was dripping and begging, then sink into that tight heat and fuck him until neither of us could think.

I shifted, lining myself up lower. The blunt head of my cock sliding back until it pressed against the soft, hot place between his cheeks.

Even through the thin fabric of his underwear that still clung to one leg, the heat of him was enough to make my vision white out for a second. I rocked forward, just a little, feeling the give of him, the promise of it...

"Kael dear! Could you please come here for a moment?"

His mother’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

I froze. Every muscle locked. My cock throbbed angrily against him, still so close to where I wanted to be that it hurt.

Akira’s eyes were wide, pupils blown, chest heaving. He looked ruined already. His lips were red, his hair a mess and his shirt rucked up under his arms. I wanted to ignore that call. Wanted to shove back in and finish what we’d started until he came apart under me.

Instead I hissed, low and vicious. "Fuck. Shit."

I forced myself to pull back. My hands were shaking as I tucked myself away, the pressure of the zipper almost painful.

Akira’s cock was still hard and wet against his stomach. I dragged his underwear and pants back up with careful fingers, then smoothed his shirt down. He watched me the whole time, breathing hard, his cheeks flushed in the dark.

I leaned in one last time and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to his forehead. "Stay like this. Think about what I’m gonna do to you later."

His breath hitched.

I stood, adjusted my jeans as best I could, and headed for the door. Akira’s scent clung to my skin, to my clothes, to the inside of my mouth but I didn’t try to wipe any of it away. If anything, I breathed deeper as I stepped into the hall, letting it settle into me like a claim of its own.

His mother was waiting. I answered her call with a steady voice and the taste of her son still rolling on my tongue.