Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2 (24 page)

Conrad stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel. Archer climbed out after him and snatched it off him. Conrad spun around with a laugh and Archer pulled him into his arms.

“We don’t have any champagne handy,” Archer said. “Can you make do?”

“I suppose so.” Conrad slid to his knees and licked Archer’s cock from root to tip. He wrapped his hand around the base and sucked at the head, running his tongue into the slit, then around and around the crest.

“Oh God,” Archer said with a groan.

Conrad kissed the head of Archer’s dick and as he began to pump his hand up and down, he inhaled and exhaled, ridding his lungs of as much poor quality air as he could. With his final inhalation, he took a deep breath, gulped like a fish at the end to get more oxygen in his lungs and enveloped the whole of Archer’s cock in one go. He put his hands on Archer’s butt and pulled him forward so his shaft slid straight down his throat. Now he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even suck, could only swallow, the muscles of his throat contracting against Archer’s shaft.

“Christ Almighty,” Archer gasped. “What the hell?”

Conrad kept him there as long as he could before he had to take a breath but as he withdrew, he sucked hard and yanked Archer straight over the edge. His lips were as tight as he could make them around a spasming, spurting dick, but come still seeped from the sides of his mouth as he swallowed.

Archer pulled him to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me you could hold your breath for fifteen minutes?”

Conrad smiled. “Like it took you more than fifteen seconds to come.”

“It was not fifteen seconds,” Archer said.

“Ten maybe.”

Archer brushed his thumb over Conrad’s cheekbone. “I’ve never come that fast in my life. Well, until I met you. What else can you do?” Archer’s eyes darkened.

“There’s a lot about me you have yet to discover.”

“About me too. Maybe…maybe you could start with my arse.”

What? Why is my cock choosing to deflate at the thought? Fear. Of what? Fucking up? Oh yeah, very funny.

“Do you think you could actually say some of that rather than have a conversation in your head?” Archer asked. “I never wanted to know what a guy was thinking before, but I do now.”

“You really don’t want to hear what my cock is saying.”

“You have a talking cock?” Archer guided him back to the door and into the bedroom.

“I don’t like to boast but yes, I do. We have riveting conversations, particularly since I was hit by that car.”

Archer stripped the top cover off the bed and pulled Conrad down so they lay face-to-face. “Why since then?”

“Because I hadn’t had an erection after the car had hit me until I dragged you out of the sea and I got a boner on the beach. Good thing you were alive. I might have been worried.”

Archer smiled. “What’s he saying now?”

“He’s talking to your cock. He’s saying I’m bigger than you.”

Archer laughed and danced his fingers over the curve of Conrad’s hip. “So is he up to doing this?”

Conrad’s heart rate doubled. “Why now? Not that I’m trying to talk you out of it, but I’m not sure I have the strength to fight you.”

“Not sure I want you to.”

Conrad gulped. This was what he’d waited for, Archer lying spread out on the bed for him to fuck, and his mind went into instant overload.
What if I can’t do it? What if he freaks out? What if he doesn’t like it?
Because that might be a deal breaker. Not might. Would be. Probably. Conrad wasn’t keen on the words top and bottom, but that had been the situation with Malachi. It wasn’t what he wanted with Archer.

“How long are you going to think about it?” Archer asked.

“Until my brain agrees with my cock. Actually, they
are
in agreement. I’m crippled by performance anxiety.”

Archer rolled onto his back and wrapped his fingers around his cock. It was already hard again.
Fuck.
His silky skin rippled as he flexed the muscles of his abdomen. Conrad wanted to take his time over Archer’s body, savor every taste, every touch, every sound he made.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” he whispered. “I want to make love to you.”

A small muscle twitched in Archer’s cheek.

“I want to show you how good it can be, the pleasure in sharing yourself, in trusting, not running.” He had to get this right.

Chapter Twenty-One

Don’t freak out. Don’t lash out. Don’t zone out.
Maybe if Archer repeated the words often enough they’d sink in. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Conrad to hurry up, squirt lube up his arse and ram his cock into him just to get it over with or if he preferred to be fucked slowly.
Hell. Get it over with? How is that the right attitude?
It reassured him that Conrad looked as freaked out as he felt. Neither of them was in a fit state to be doing this but Archer was living on borrowed time. They were safe for the moment but he couldn’t think further than the next few hours.

Lying to yourself?

Yes, he was. He might not have conversations with his cock, but he conducted plenty in his head. Conrad had more or less just told him how he felt and it had scared Archer because he could feel trouble coming as surely as if the pressure had changed and the barometer was tumbling. He was in no position to sort out anything with the SIS which meant relying on Conrad’s father, but how effective could he be?

There was only one way to ensure Conrad’s safety and that was to leave him. If he showed he had no interest in the guy anymore, Conrad couldn’t be used against him. Of course, that involved hurting him but—Conrad nuzzled into the hollow of Archer’s throat and his mind went blank. Conrad nipped and licked at the hollow below his larynx and when Archer swallowed, he felt Conrad smile against his neck.

I can’t leave him. I can’t. I’ve run long enough. I don’t want to hurt him.

“Try to be less corpse-like,” Conrad said. “I was expecting you to fight.”

Oh fuck, don’t tempt me.

Archer threaded his fingers in Conrad’s hair telling himself he could reverse out of this at any time. Letting Conrad fuck him didn’t mean he was weak. It proved he was strong.
If you want to destroy him, put your clothes on and walk out right now. It’s what you usually do.

Conrad laid a trail of kisses around the line of his chin and when he reached his ear and played around there, Archer let out a deep groan. The more Conrad sucked and laved and mouthed, the faster Archer’s heart raced. When Conrad’s lips slid back to Archer’s, the kiss flashed out of control in an instant. Archer pulled Conrad onto him, dug his fingers into the seam of that perfect butt and writhed beneath him, rubbing their cocks together, rubbing everything together until Conrad managed to break free and rolled to one side.

“Quit trying to take control,” Conrad panted, his chest heaving.

“Just do it.”

“I am
not
just fucking doing it. This happens my way. When I get my breath back.”

Archer let his fingers drift over the depression between Conrad’s pecs, across to tweak his nipples, then around the bruise and over his abs to the soft skin of his groin. He stared at the heavily veined cock trying to imagine it in his arse, and the breath caught in his throat. He was going to do this, let Conrad inside his body, let him inside his head, tell him how he felt. He stroked one of the veins with his finger, followed it up the length of Conrad’s shaft, rolled his finger over the top then licked off a smear of pre-come. The taste burst on his tongue like a tangy sweet.

“You sure?” Conrad asked.

No.
“Yes.” His heart jumped and hearing Conrad offer him a way out if he wanted it, touched something deep inside him.

Conrad rolled onto his side and wrapped his hand around Archer’s cock, gripping hard. “You’re going to come again.”

“Observation or instruction? Not sure my cock will listen to you.”

Conrad smiled. “Bend your knees.”

Archer brought his feet up and spread his legs. He was in pieces, struggling to hold himself together, unsure about this, afraid he’d end up hitting Conrad, knocking him to the floor, beating him to a pulp for daring to…
Damn. Admit to yourself you want this, you want him.

The attentions of a hot wet mouth began to drive the worries from his head. Conrad had his balls between his lips. Archer felt as if he lay at the edge of a warm sea, waves of lust rolling over him, smothering doubt, swamping everything but pleasure. Conrad had his hands planted on Archer’s lower thighs, pushing his legs back, exposing the crease of his butt. He was licking him everywhere, cock, balls, the skin between, around his hole. The sensation of wet tongue, silky damp hair, and hot breath wound Archer tighter and tighter. He shut his eyes, clenched the sheet with his fists, and struggled with the voice in his head, the faint one telling him not to allow this, willing it to fade to nothing.

Conrad never faltered. He took his time, was slow and deliberate when Archer craved fast, needed it done, his cock inside him…now, now, now. But…that tongue
. That fucking tongue, fucking me…fucking don’t stop.
It fluttered around and over and just inside his hole until Archer thought he’d explode. When a lubed finger took the place of the tongue and Conrad wrapped his mouth around his cock, Archer began to drift faster toward acceptance that Conrad was in control, that any thought of resistance was melting faster than ice cream on a hot day.

“I can do this.” Archer hadn’t meant the words to come out but they were true. He
could
do this. He
wanted
this. Conrad curled his finger, stroked his prostate and Archer let out a shuddering breath.
Fuck, I
really
want this.
The slight discomfort quickly morphed to deeper enjoyment and he found himself rocking into Conrad’s thrusts, wanting, wanting—
oh damn, I want more.
W
hen one finger became two, he shuddered with pleasure and although he kept his eyes closed, he couldn’t say the same for his mouth. The sounds slipped out, poured out in a torrent of mostly incomprehensible babble. Moans, groans, grunts, words.
Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t, don’t.
He flexed his hips more firmly, pushed back into Conrad’s thrust and Conrad took his mouth from his cock.

Put it back.

“Still with me?” Conrad asked.

Archer forced open his eyes and looked at him, at that face, that smile. He felt the jolt in his chest as if he’d been the one who’d been shot.
What have I gotten myself into?

Conrad was shaking as he went up on his knees. He dropped the condom, dropped the lube and somehow that was perfect because much as Archer had thought the only way he’d be taken would be as they fought, Conrad’s gentle persistence, his nervousness, his type of control worked in a way that force could never manage.

“Slight problem,” Conrad said as he knelt between Archer’s legs.

Archer eyed a cock twice the size he recalled. “Doesn’t look slight. Christ, you’re hung like a donkey.”

Conrad laughed. “Donkey? I couldn’t have had anaconda or elephant or Argentine lake duck?”

“A duck?”

“It has a seventeen-inch cock and the duck is only sixteen inches long.”

Archer chuckled. “So what’s the problem? I’m grateful you don’t have a seventeen-inch cock.”

Conrad blew out a shaky breath. “Think back to the first time a hand other than your own brought you off. Remember how intoxicated you felt, the way your brain was completely and utterly invaded by lust? You thought you’d come hard enough to rival Old Faithful? How in your head, you were desperate not to let it happen too fast but in reality you never stood a chance?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Conrad gave him a pained look. “Need. Want. L…lust. You lying there like the…thing I want most in the world, apart from the Argentine lake duck obviously. Trying…oh God.”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

“I’m trying to make this right.”

Archer brushed his fingers over Conrad’s cheek. “I know you are, but if you don’t shut the fuck up and do this now, I’m going to kill you. And you know I can.”

Conrad snorted but edged forward and lined up his cock. When Archer felt the broad head brush against his anus, he tried not to tense, tried not to fling Conrad to the other side of the room. He gripped the sheet to keep his hands busy and stared into Conrad’s face, concentrated on that, on his blue eyes, dark lashes…
oh fuck
.
This man. Mine.
For the first time in his life, something that was truly his.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Conrad whispered, wincing as he pushed. “Tight, tight, tight, tight, tight.”

The sharp pain made Archer suck in a breath and rear up but as he reached for Conrad’s throat, his lover’s cock popped through the muscle barrier and his body seemed to suck it in until they sat pressed groin to groin, chest to chest.

“Another ten inches to go maybe,” Conrad panted.

Archer hadn’t thought he could find humor in being fucked but he’d been wrong. It had never been more than a physical pleasure until Conrad. Neither of them moved until Archer sank back, but Conrad dropped with him and kissed him. Archer wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. Whose heart was that beating so fast? His or Conrad’s?
This feels good. Oh hell.

“Okay. Okay,” Conrad whispered. “Maybe now I have a chance of more than one thrust in and out.”

Conrad pushed up on his hands, lifted his hips, pulled back, drove forward and a gasp burst from Archer’s throat. The next thrust brushed his prostate, Archer dug his fingers into Conrad’s waist and Conrad gasped louder than him.

“I don’t do this,” Archer gasped.

“That’s okay. You’re not doing anything. I’m the one doing all the work, you lazy bastard.”

Archer contracted his muscles around Conrad’s cock and was rewarded by a soul deep groan.

“One more of those and I’m done,” Conrad said. “Find something else to do. Your cock looks desperate and I don’t have a hand free at the moment.”

“Conrad?”

“What?”

“I’m as relaxed as I’m ever going to be.”

“Right. That’s good. I was waiting for you obviously.”

Archer smiled.
I fucking smiled?

Conrad slid his hands to Archer’s shoulders and began to drive in and out of his body, each thrust harder, and Archer held on his cock and worked it. Lightning crackled all over his body as Conrad slammed into him.
It’s good. It’s good.
Then his hands grabbed Conrad’s butt and he was dragging him in, their bodies crashing together, the long hard drives forcing the air from his lungs.
Harder, harder.

He ignored the needs of his cock because he put the needs of his arse first. Conrad’s cock touched his prostate, once, twice, three times and Archer’s back bowed.

“Fuck.” His entire body felt hyper-sensitized. As Conrad pounded into him, fire blazing in his bruised eyes, Archer felt himself being forced up the bed. Conrad geared down to long slow shunts and they both sucked air into struggling lungs.

“Oh God,” Conrad whispered. “I can’t stop watching my cock disappear inside you. Oh fuck. Damn. Why did I look? Why did you let me look?”

He shifted into short fast jabs and Archer felt as if a series of explosions had detonated the length of his spine. He still had his hands on Conrad’s butt. He couldn’t move them.
My cock.
As if Conrad had heard him, he wrapped a hand around Archer’s dick and jerked him off. The room was full of their muffled cries, the sound of slick flesh slipping, slapping, the aroma of sweat and sex swirling around their heads. His hips bucked, heat flared deep in his gut, his body clenched and convulsed, and thick ropes of come sprayed onto his belly and chest. Sweet pleasure that never lasted long enough and yet this did, going on and on until something else broke in Archer, a dam he’d unwittingly erected. Flooded with awareness, he knew he’d lost another part of himself to this man.

A moment later, Conrad stiffened and Archer felt the cock inside him swell. Conrad cried out as his hips jerked hard, then he collapsed groaning onto Archer’s chest. Archer wrapped his arms around him, wanted their bodies touching everywhere. They were both gasping, breathing together, hearts beating as one.

Archer didn’t want to move. He’d never felt this close to another human being, never wanted anyone this much. They came down from the peak together, cocks softening, hearts slowing, breathing slowing as tension seeped from their bodies.

“You’re far too quiet,” Conrad said and eased his weight off him to pull off the condom. He lay on his back at Archer’s side. “Wondering why you waited that long? I did.”

Archer could feel Conrad looking at him but couldn’t bring himself to turn to meet his gaze. His belly was a sticky mess, come cooling without the protection of Conrad’s body.
All I have to do is look at him.
He was tired of running. He’d run after what happened on the mountain and escaped nothing.

Conrad deserved better than him.

“Was I that bad?” Conrad asked. “I’m not fishing for compliments here. Well, I am actually. Scores out of ten but only tell me if I got ten. I didn’t treat you to all my moves. Thought I’d better keep something in reserve. You felt…fucking perfect. Tight and hot and…Jesus, now I know you’re muscley all over.”

He could hear the edge of insecurity in Conrad’s voice, and the tinge of annoyance.
Say something.
If he didn’t open up to Conrad now would he always regret the lost opportunity to be a different person, to live a different life?
What am I afraid of?
He already knew the answer. He was afraid of caring for someone, being responsible for them and losing them, afraid of not being the man Conrad wanted him to be.
Tell him how you feel.

“Did I screw your brains out?” Conrad asked.

How did he know Conrad was the one? He’d never let anyone get this close to him before. Never wanted anyone to fuck him.
I need him.
He needs me.
His past could get Conrad killed. It nearly had.
So protect him.

“I
did
screw your brains out.”

Archer laughed. “Just about. Sorry.” He slid his hand to the back of Conrad’s neck, pulled him up and back on top of him. “That’s better. I was getting cold.”

“We’re going to get stuck together.”