grind

“You should go home.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I know for a fact you have a lecture this morning.”

“That’s later. Much, much later.”

Ashenivir moved his mouth up from Rizeth’s bare chest to his neck. The fact that one of Rizeth’s hands was still on the small of his back and the other was sunk deep in the early-morning tangles of his hair undercut every protest. No, he hadn’t meant to stay the night, he never did, and yet it kept happening. Hence his being in Rizeth’s lap, on Rizeth’s sofa, in Rizeth’s living room at seven-thirty am, instead of alone and miserable in his own bed across town.

He nipped at Rizeth’s ear. A low, warning hum came in response. “Behave.”

“Don’t want to.”

“And what exactly do you want?”

Ashenivir shifted his weight to grind deliberately against the hardness he could already feel through the striped fabric of Rizeth’s pyjamas. “To ride you again.”

Rizeth put a hand to his throat—not choking, just holding, in the way he did that had a tendency to shut down most of Ashenivir’s higher thought processes. “You want an orgasm, and that is all you want. You are not thinking of any pleasure but your own, as per usual.”

“No,” Ashenivir tried. Rizeth arched an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“Absolutely.” Rizeth took him by the waist and lifted him until he was straddling one thigh. “Fortunately for you, my little brat, I have a certain fondness for your pleasure.”

He cupped Ashenivir’s ass, palm warm through his boxers. Ashenivir wriggled until he got the spank he was seeking, then yelped when the second came harder than he expected. Gone was the morning softness of Rizeth’s eyes; the brown now seemed near black as his Master came out to play. A nudge between his legs was more than enough instruction—Ashenivir took the hint, and began to rock against Rizeth’s thigh.

Once he was moving, Rizeth did absolutely nothing to help, only moved his hands beneath Ashenivir’s shirt to keep a firmer hold of his waist, watching him coolly. He’d woken half turned on to begin with—the usual state of affairs after having spent yet another evening at his Master’s mercy—and with every roll of his hips the drag of wetness and the small hardness of his cock sent a frisson of pleasure through his core.

“Good boy,” Rizeth said, when his breath started to catch.

“Please, Master, will you touch me?”

The hands on his waist squeezed. “I am touching you.”

“Not like that,” Ashenivir whined. “I want you to feel me.”

“I can feel how hard you are as it is.” Rizeth graced him with a single rise of his thigh. He ground down into the motion with a groan. “And quite lovely you feel, too.”

“Please do that again,” Ashenivir begged. When Rizeth didn’t, he writhed in place, too wet and too desperate to form a coherent argument. “Master, please.”

Rizeth pulled him close, lips brushing his jaw, his cheek, his ear. His fingers slid below the waistband of Ashenivir’s boxers, and for a moment he thought maybe he’d get what he wanted.

“I am not going to pleasure you this morning, pet,” Rizeth breathed. “You are going to ride me, just as you wanted, and you are going nowhere until you come on your Master’s thigh like a good boy.” Teeth grazed his neck. “Are you going to be a good boy for me today, Ashenivir?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, yes, I will, I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Prove it, then.”

Over and over he ground his cock against Rizeth’s leg. His wetness soaked through his boxers enough to feel it dragging over the skin, and his face heated at knowing Rizeth felt it too; knew—as always—how much of an effect he had, even when he wasn’t doing a damn thing. He had his arms balanced on Rizeth’s shoulders, but soon fell forward with his face to Rizeth’s neck—he no longer had the wherewithal to keep his head up. Rizeth allowed it, fingers once more tangling in his hair. Not petting or indulging as they had before, oh no; their presence was a hold that would turn tight and controlling the moment he stopped following orders.

He had no intention of stopping. Fuck, he was so close, kept getting so close, and then he’d shift position or their clothing would move wrong and he’d slip precious inches back down the high he was chasing. His thighs ached. His abdomen ached. His thoughts fogged—how long had he been doing this?

“Fuck,” he panted. His hips were on autopilot, frantically rutting in animal need. “Fuck, Master, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t come like this, I need you to touch me.”

“No, you don’t,” Rizeth said. The hand on his waist squeezed. “You want me to, there is a difference. You want me to put my fingers inside you and feel how wet you are. You want me to stroke your cock and feel how hard you can get for me now. You want me to fuck you with my hand until you come. You want all these things—and presumably my cock in either one of your holes—because you are a greedy, needy, hungry brat who is never satisfied with what he has.”

Ashenivir couldn’t breathe. High, stuttered noises accented his moans—he tried to kiss Rizeth’s neck and couldn’t get enough control of his mouth to do it properly. He ground down faster, harder; despite the ache, because of it.

“You also want me to keep talking to you like this, don’t you?” Rizeth murmured. “You like hearing what I’ll do as much as you like having it done to you.”

There. That angle, that drag; he had it, right there.

“That’s it, good boy, look how close you are.” Rizeth’s praise purred into his ear; he’d long given up trying to analyse why it sent him flying as high as it did and simply rode it all the way up and out of his head. “Are you going to do as you’re told?”

All he could do was nod.

“Then come for me.”

One thrust, two, three—it hit him like a tidal wave, rushing out from his core to fill every inch of his body, to overflow every border and boundary of self. He clutched at Rizeth as he shuddered, unable to do more than whimper and twitch atop him. Rizeth stroked his back, even though his shirt clung to the sweat-damp skin. “Well done, pet. Such a lovely mess you’ve made.”

“You can’t tell,” Ashenivir mumbled, gasping as another twitch spasmed a ghost of pleasure down his spine. “Haven’t touched me.”

A soft laugh, then Rizeth’s hand slipped inside his boxers. The touch of his fingers was pure, hot heaven, and it was far too much. He squirmed, whining as they stroked him. Another laugh, and the hand withdrew.

“Satisfied, brat?”

He pressed a kiss to Rizeth’s pulse. “Very. Thank you, Master.”

”You are most welcome.”

The silence between them was more comfortable than any words could encompass—Ashenivir had never found anyone with whom saying and doing nothing actually made his brain calmer, not itchier. Would that he could have stayed here like this all day, but he really did have a lecture in a few hours, Rizeth his own to give. He had to get up, clean off every trace of last night and this morning, go back to pretending he was nothing but Rizeth’s student. Ashenivir smothered a sigh and burrowed closer, a sense of rightness filling him at the way Rizeth’s arms fit around him.

He couldn’t stay here all day, but he could have another five minutes.