[ for the boy who has never belonged anywhere, who only recently found people and relationships that might hold steady, embry’s jealousy (armand’s questioning, ani’s upset) had intiitally been an unfamiliar, uncertain thing. like trying to toe a line you can’t see, never quite sure if you stepped out-of-bounds. now, he wonders if the shape isn’t more familiar — just another form of wanting. another of embry’s paradoxes, too. the kind of man who says don’t want you to think of anybody else, don’t want you to go to them and then asks that the spectre of bob’s other lovers be made real, name by name.
he sucks in a breath when embry first laves over another bite, when his teeth scrape someone else’s bruise and reclaim it, newly tender. hands tented on the wood, hips rolling into embry’s thigh. those fingers in his hair are like a puppeteer’s on his strings, pulling him taut.
despite the command, bob answers on a delay, still unsure whether this will function as bloodletting and release or self-harm, but wanting to give embry what he asks, anyway (and wanting to be wanted enough to warrant his jealousy). twin coils burn hot, shame and a smug satisfaction. it’s as though he fucked up and needs to beg embry’s forgiveness, detritus from the commune still lodged in his skull, but a contrarian undercurrent has his jaw tilting up in defiance because there are people who want me even when you don’t — ]
Yelena. [ guttered out, with embry’s tongue in the dip of his collar. it feels dirty to invoke anyone else when he’s with somebody. it feels risky. it feels — like his heart juddering in his chest and cock twitching in his trousers. yelena, ani, armand. embry knocks the last name from his chest, along with his breath, on yanking him hard enough that he lets his back hit the desk: ] Corry —
[ from fucking him, obviously, which embry has only just decided he’s interested in (when he regretted it before bob could come down from the high of it happening at all). no time to think of that, of anybody else, when embry has him now. wants him again, however briefly. his back bows as embry bites him. ]
You. You — [ legs trembling and chest bare, cock standing at attention. the winter air chills his damp skin. he shivers through it. ] You, Embry
[ even though it’s easier than ever to let embry take charge and manhandle him, bob could still resist. could give more push and pull, not immovable and untouchable but difficult, sure. instead, his hands trace the corded muscle in embry’s arms where they hold him in place. too reverent, when embry has drawn his hands back from touching him before, afraid of what might slip through their haptic link.
with a snap of his fingers, he signs over his mouth to embry’s worship, too. half-expecting what comes, surprised only by the abrupt roughness of it, the sudden, strange sensation of helplessness: boxed in by embry’s hand and the desk behind it, so there is no pulling back. just an initial instinctive struggle, shifting his weight on his shaky knees. a barely there tilt, tongue sliding against the undersides of embry’s cock, thick and filling his mouth, already nudging too deep. he gags and whines, immediately aware of the stretch in his jaw. but where that might make someone else panic, he gives in to the familiar draw of an eddy. blinks his lashes wet, looking up at embry through the thicket.
bob fumbles for the root of his cock and splays a hand on his thigh, a near-tender circle of his thumb over the drawn muscle. an eager, aching sound answers the filth in embry’s mouth, and he pushes for more, jaw slackening, throat opening. it feels like being a thing, yes, a toy — but a well-loved one, worn with the repetitive strain of affection. it’s the closest he’s come to the glorious headfuck of the commune, embry in his head, his dreams, leaving phantom and real bruises in his wake. now, the whole of his world narrows to embry’s cock, nails digging into his thigh, squeezing his shaft until he swallows that too. bob’s throat spasms, but he holds, determined, before trying to edge back. no snap of his fingers, however, even while wet-eyed and ruddy-cheeked. so enamoured with embry that he appears dazed. ]
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he sucks in a breath when embry first laves over another bite, when his teeth scrape someone else’s bruise and reclaim it, newly tender. hands tented on the wood, hips rolling into embry’s thigh. those fingers in his hair are like a puppeteer’s on his strings, pulling him taut.
despite the command, bob answers on a delay, still unsure whether this will function as bloodletting and release or self-harm, but wanting to give embry what he asks, anyway (and wanting to be wanted enough to warrant his jealousy). twin coils burn hot, shame and a smug satisfaction. it’s as though he fucked up and needs to beg embry’s forgiveness, detritus from the commune still lodged in his skull, but a contrarian undercurrent has his jaw tilting up in defiance because there are people who want me even when you don’t — ]
Yelena. [ guttered out, with embry’s tongue in the dip of his collar. it feels dirty to invoke anyone else when he’s with somebody. it feels risky. it feels — like his heart juddering in his chest and cock twitching in his trousers. yelena, ani, armand. embry knocks the last name from his chest, along with his breath, on yanking him hard enough that he lets his back hit the desk: ] Corry —
[ from fucking him, obviously, which embry has only just decided he’s interested in (when he regretted it before bob could come down from the high of it happening at all). no time to think of that, of anybody else, when embry has him now. wants him again, however briefly. his back bows as embry bites him. ]
You. You — [ legs trembling and chest bare, cock standing at attention. the winter air chills his damp skin. he shivers through it. ] You, Embry
[ even though it’s easier than ever to let embry take charge and manhandle him, bob could still resist. could give more push and pull, not immovable and untouchable but difficult, sure. instead, his hands trace the corded muscle in embry’s arms where they hold him in place. too reverent, when embry has drawn his hands back from touching him before, afraid of what might slip through their haptic link.
with a snap of his fingers, he signs over his mouth to embry’s worship, too. half-expecting what comes, surprised only by the abrupt roughness of it, the sudden, strange sensation of helplessness: boxed in by embry’s hand and the desk behind it, so there is no pulling back. just an initial instinctive struggle, shifting his weight on his shaky knees. a barely there tilt, tongue sliding against the undersides of embry’s cock, thick and filling his mouth, already nudging too deep. he gags and whines, immediately aware of the stretch in his jaw. but where that might make someone else panic, he gives in to the familiar draw of an eddy. blinks his lashes wet, looking up at embry through the thicket.
bob fumbles for the root of his cock and splays a hand on his thigh, a near-tender circle of his thumb over the drawn muscle. an eager, aching sound answers the filth in embry’s mouth, and he pushes for more, jaw slackening, throat opening. it feels like being a thing, yes, a toy — but a well-loved one, worn with the repetitive strain of affection. it’s the closest he’s come to the glorious headfuck of the commune, embry in his head, his dreams, leaving phantom and real bruises in his wake. now, the whole of his world narrows to embry’s cock, nails digging into his thigh, squeezing his shaft until he swallows that too. bob’s throat spasms, but he holds, determined, before trying to edge back. no snap of his fingers, however, even while wet-eyed and ruddy-cheeked. so enamoured with embry that he appears dazed. ]