2
" Just keep touching me.” Prophet did, one hand stroking, the other moving between Tom’s legs. “Come on. Push up on your knees again.” Tom did, his shoulders and face pressed to the mattress, his ass spread and vulnerable. He didn’t bother to protest, not when Prophet was sliding a finger along his ass, brushing his hole. Then he inserted a lubed finger inside him, pressing hard. Tom jolted. Was rewarded with a second finger and a third followed quickly. They twisted and stroked and pushed and he heard himself cursing. He’d ache in the morning from pulling so hard against the ropes, but he was good and bound . . . Prophet wasn’t letting him go anywhere. And for a second, just a second, that scared the fuck out of him, the way it was supposed to . . . But he was safe. Didn’t matter how bad the clamps burned. He could tell Prophet to stop all of it, and Prophet would. But the best part was that Tom would never have to do that. Prophet knew him too well . . . would always keep him safe, even as he pushed Tom’s boundaries. Prophet licked up the side of his neck. Tom shuddered again. “Killing me.” “And you love it.” Prophet put his face down next to Tom’s. “Yeah, I do.” Prophet smiled, a sleepy, contented-as-fuck smile. “Me too, Tommy. Me too.” And "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
3
" And finally, Prophet slid inside him, skin to skin—and that never got old. Tom tensed at the first burn—Prophet was careful but not easy—and goddamn, it would be so easy to just come. He bit the comforter hard enough to make his jaw ache in an effort to stop himself. Prophet slapped his ass twice—firm swats that made him want to come even more, the fucker. And then Prophet took the clamps off simultaneously, and holy fuck, the rush of blood back to the nipples was a feeling so fused with his pain craving that it hit every single nerve in his body, like they were all ricocheting off his abused nipples. The pain forced Tom to move, and the only thing he could do semieffectively to get a feeling somewhere else besides the giant ache in his nipples was to rut back against Prophet until he heard the bed creak threateningly. “If we break this bed . . .” “I’ll buy you a new one,” Tom managed, because he was already seeing stars. “I just need you. Lije . . .” At that, Prophet came in hard, hot spurts, his body shuddering, his fingers digging into Tom hard enough to bruise. “Now, Tommy . . .” Tom didn’t have to hear it twice, came with a fierce orgasm that he knew would knock him out in seconds, his entire body one giant throb. It was surrender, complete and utter. It was everything. When "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
7
" But all Prophet said was, “Everyone meets their match eventually.” Tom knew their hunger wasn’t something that would level off. No, it was the opposite—it kept rising, twisting, feeding on itself . . . burning stronger, hotter. It wasn’t going to change, partly because of their unpredictability. They were quick to anger. Quicker to forgive. There was so much they still had to go through. Times like this would be few and far between for the next months. But eventually . . . they’d have this again. Hotter than ever. “That’s what I am—your match?” Prophet smiled. Blinked a little, then looked serious. “You don’t know that?” Tom managed to move closer to Prophet, touched his newly pierced nipple, and whispered in his ear. “I like to hear you say it. That’s all I need. "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
14
" Tom smiled, then reached down and unzipped Prophet’s jeans the rest of the way. Then he pushed them off Prophet’s hips while Prophet willed himself not to come. “Step out of them,” Tom ordered, and Prophet did, kicking them to the side. Tom appraised him in a most appreciative way that Prophet swore made his entire body blush. “Turn around, Proph—hands on the cushions.” Prophet swallowed. Okay, nearly swallowed his own tongue too, but managed, “Even if Cillian was watching, you know he turned the camera off on his end the second you told me to strip.” Tom growled, low in his throat. “Yeah. And that was two seconds too long.” “You’re going to make this couch suffer, aren’t you?” Tommy smiled. “Definitely.” “But me first.” “Yeah, Proph, you’re always first.” Prophet "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
15
" True to form, Tom reached around to torture him, playing with his cockhead, running a finger around the crown. “Gonna come if you do that,” Prophet told him, his voice husky to his own ears. “Not allowed to,” Tom reminded him. “Then don’t fucking touch me.” “You’re not making these rules, bébé.” Tom’s tongue dragged up his spine, too lightly to be anything but squirm-inducing. And then he began to bite the taut skin along Prophet’s back, biting, sucking, claiming . . . It was the same area he’d been drawing on, almost obsessively. Definitely mapping out his space on Prophet’s body. “Marking me?” Prophet asked, like he did every time. Because he liked to hear Tom’s answer. “Better fucking believe it. Problem? "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
16
" Prophet stared at him for a beat longer, unmoving, before Tom’s hand snaked around his wrist, a firm grip but not a painful one. He looked at Tom and swallowed hard at the unabashed, naked heat in his eyes. And then he let Tom guide him to face the back of the couch. Tom’s palm pressed down between his shoulder blades. He conceded slightly by leaning forward to hold fast to the couch’s back, but he didn’t bend over the couch, the way he knew Tom wanted him to. Because Tom was not the boss of him. Not all the time. And not now. This was his game, dammit. Behind him, Tom snorted softly. “Still fighting compliance?” “I am complying.” He somehow managed to sound halfway agreeable, albeit through clenched teeth. He felt Tom’s hands slide down his sides and land on his hips before his legs were kicked apart. And then Tom must’ve gotten on his knees behind him because he was holding Prophet’s ass cheeks apart, sliding his tongue inside . . . “Fuck.” Tom "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
18
" Tom’s tongue dragged up his spine, too lightly to be anything but squirm-inducing. And then he began to bite the taut skin along Prophet’s back, biting, sucking, claiming . . . It was the same area he’d been drawing on, almost obsessively. Definitely mapping out his space on Prophet’s body. “Marking me?” Prophet asked, like he did every time. Because he liked to hear Tom’s answer. “Better fucking believe it. Problem?” “Fuck. No. No problem.” “Good.” Tom’s finger slid inside of him. At some point, he’d lubed his fingers, so a second finger quickly joined it. Tom twisted them as he worked them back and forth, with Prophet rocking gently to his easy rhythm. “Tommy, please . . .” Tom "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
19
" Tom kicked his legs open more, forcing him to go palms down on the cushions of this motherfucking, no-good-for-anything-or-anyone couch, and he heard the rip of a condom wrapper. Seconds later, Tom pushed the thick head of his cock inside him. Prophet went on his toes, trying to gain any kind of purchase as Tom’s cock filled him. The couch was in front of him, Tom behind him . . . and the rest was a tenuous balance. And Tommy had him. So fucking strong. One of the few men Prophet knew—or could admit—was just as strong as he was. Or maybe stronger. He could feel the strength in Tom’s hold. Knew he’d have bruises. He’d feel this for days, all the reminder he needed that he was cared for. Well cared for. He’d give Tom the same reminder, because Prophet wasn’t the only one who needed it. "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
20
" Tom was precariously close to coming himself and fuck no, he didn’t want this to end. Not yet. Instead, he pulled out and grabbed Prophet around the chest, forcing him to straighten up. He bit the side of his neck, sucked hard. And then he took Prophet’s hand, forced him to fist it, leaving his pointer finger out. Then he took Prophet’s wrist and made him circle his finger around his own leaking cock, catching pre-cum. Then he tugged Prophet’s hand up to his mouth and said, “Open.” Prophet did. Guiding him, he watched Prophet rub his finger along his own tongue. And then Tom moved Prophet’s hand out of the way, turned Prophet’s head to the side so he could put his own mouth on Prophet’s, licking the man’s tongue. Prophet groaned and bucked his ass back against him. Tom knew it was killing him not to come. “Good, Proph. So fucking good watching you like this . . . all easy for me.” “You’re so dirty, T.” “For you.” “You so fucking love this.” “And you push me to it on goddamned purpose,” Tom ground out. Prophet shrugged his answer. Tom "
― S.E. Jakes , Not Fade Away (Hell or High Water, #3.5)
