Page 35 of Flint's Arrow
Flint’s hands immediately went to Arrow’s chest, mapping the planes of muscle there. His touch was exploratory, curious, as if he was learning Arrow through his fingertips. When he brushed over Arrow’s nipple, Arrow hissed and pressed into the touch.
“Sensitive?” Flint asked.
“Even my toes are sensitive right now.” Arrow caught Flint’s wrist, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to his pulse point. “I know the mate bond makes everything more intense, but I think most of it is because of you.”
Flint’s pupils dilated further. He stepped closer, pressing his chest to Arrow’s, skin to skin. The contact sent electricity racing down Arrow’s spine. His hands settled on Flint’s hips, thumbs rubbing small circles against the jut of bone there.
“I want to touch you,” Arrow murmured against Flint’s temple. “All of you. Can I?”
“Yeah.” Flint’s voice was rough. “Please.”
Arrow’s fingers went to the button of Flint’s jeans, watching his face the entire time. Flint nodded, so Arrow popped the button and slowly lowered the zipper. Flint’s cock was already hard, tenting the fabric of his brightly colored boxer briefs.
Arrow sank to his knees, pressing kisses to Flint’s hip bones, the soft skin of his lower belly. Flint’s fingers threaded through his hair, not pushing, just holding on. Arrow hooked his fingers in the waistband of both jeans and underwear and pulled them down together, helping Flint step out of them.
Flint’s cock bobbed free, flushed and leaking. Arrow wanted to taste, to take him in his mouth and make him fall apart, but first, he just looked. Took in every detail of his mate, finally bare before him.
“Arrow.” Flint tugged at his hair. “You’re staring.”
“I’m appreciating.” Arrow pressed a kiss to Flint’s inner thigh, then stood. “Get on the bed.”
Flint’s eyebrows rose at the command, but he obeyed, crawling onto the mattress and turning to face Arrow. The sight of him there, flushed and wanting, nearly broke Arrow’s control.
Slow, he reminded himself again.Make this good for him.
Arrow stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, his cock springing free. Flint’s eyes tracked the movement, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Come here,” Flint said, reaching for him.
Arrow climbed onto the bed, covering Flint’s body with his own. The full-length contact made them both groan. Arrow kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the taste and feel of his mate’s mouth. Flint’s hands roamed his back, nails scraping lightly down his spine.
Arrow kissed his way down Flint’s jaw to his neck, teeth scraping over the spot where his claiming bite would go. Flint arched beneath him, a needy sound escaping his throat.
“Please,” Flint gasped. “Touch me.”
Arrow wrapped his hand around Flint’s cock, stroking slowly from root to tip. Flint bucked into his grip, his own hand reaching for Arrow’s length. They moved together, hands learning the rhythm that made the other gasp and moan.
But it wasn’t enough. Arrow needed more, needed to taste. He kissed his way down Flint’s chest, pausing to tongue at his nipples until Flint was writhing beneath him. Lower still, across the flat plane of his stomach, following the muscles down until…
“Fuck!” Flint’s hips jerked as Arrow’s tongue swept across the head of his cock.
Arrow took him in deeper, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked. Flint tasted perfect, salt and musk and something unique to him. Arrow worked him with lips and tongue, one hand wrapped around the base while the other played with his balls.
Flint’s fingers tightened in his hair, not directing, just holding on as Arrow took him apart piece by piece. The sounds Flint made - broken gasps and bitten-off curses - went straight to Arrow’s cock.
But as much as Arrow wanted to make this last, he needed something more. He was desperate to be closer, to be inside his mate when they both fell over the edge.
He pulled off with a wet sound, pressing a kiss to Flint’s hip. “Roll over.”
Flint’s eyes had gone hazy with pleasure, but he shook his head. “No. I want to see you.”
Arrow’s breath caught. Most of his previous encounters had been quick, impersonal - bent over a desk or pressed against a wall. The idea of facing his mate, of watching his expressions as they joined, made his chest tight.
“Okay,” Arrow managed. “Yeah. I want that too.”
Flint reached into the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube. He pressed it into Arrow’s hand, then shifted to straddle Arrow’s thighs. The position put them at eye level, Flint’s cock brushing against Arrow’s stomach.
Arrow’s hands shook slightly as he slicked his fingers. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good.”
