Page 62 of Iron

His cock is weeping on his belly as I rock into him.

“Your what?” I growl in his ear as I thrust, slow and deep, rocking gently, and he whines, wrapping his legs around my waist. “Who takes care of you? Who held you while you puked? Who makes sure you eat? Who fucking loves you?”

He sobs. “God, Gavin, so good, I never thought…”

“Mine,” I half growl, half groan, my forehead buried in his hair. “My boy. I am your Daddy, not some fucking toy.”

I grasp the nape of his neck, holding on as my hips thrust into him slowly, and his voice is keening, begging. His ass clenches tight on my cock, and he bites my chest deep into the muscle around my nipple. Shocks flash down my body at the bite, and I erupt into him with a yell, coating his insides with my cum. His beautiful cock throbs between us, coating us both as I continue pulsing into him, my vision whiting out as pleasure overwhelms me. All of my muscles lock down tight as the shudders grip me. I try to hold my weight above him, not crush him, breath heaving.

My awareness returns slowly. TJ’s teeth on my chest are still deep, and I smile. It hurts and he may have left marks. Perfect.

When he finally releases me, I tilt his face up to mine and kiss him, hard.

“Mine,” I growl into his mouth.

39

TJ

I’m not supposed to be doing this today. Gavin says so the moment I pull my shoes on.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You just got cleared to walk around the block.”

“I’m bored out of my mind, and if I sit in this apartment one more hour, I’m going to lose it.” I grab my keys off the counter before he can argue further. “Also, I refuse to make you keep sleeping like a folded lawn chair.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“You didn’t have to. I have watched you try to fit on that mattress for two weeks. It was sad. It was borderline tragic.”

We take his rental instead of my car because apparently I still get winded standing up too fast, which makes me cough like my lungs haven’t got the memo yet, and he’s not letting me drive yet, argument or no argument. I complain about that the whole way there anyway, low-grade, more out of principle than actual annoyance. Mostly I just like giving him something to roll his eyes at.

The mattress store has too many lights and a salesman who zeros in on us the moment we walk in, already doing math on commission in his head.

“Anything specific you’re looking for today?”

“King,” Gavin says.

“California King,” I say at the same time.

Gavin looks at me. “My feet already clear a regular king.”

“Sure, but think bigger picture.”

“There is no bigger picture. It’s a mattress.”

“There’s always a bigger picture, Gavin.” I turn to the salesman who’s already looking mildly delighted at whatever commission math just changed in his head. “What’s the biggest one you carry?”

“We can special-order an Alaskan king. Nine by nine.”

“Nine by nine.” I say it like he just told me the number to a winning lottery ticket. “That’s basically a room.”

“That’s basically two rooms,” Gavin says. “It won’t fit through my door, let alone yours, let alone fit in your bedroom.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know basic geometry.”