Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

A s fucked up as Elliot could get with showers, they usually took pretty long. Set to blazing, testing the limits of the oversized water heaters in the place—a much bigger issue when he lived in the dorms and there wasn’t always enough hot water for everyone—Elliot rarely left the shower without his skin bright red. Only Parker ever teased him about it, since Elliot scared all the other teens, but there’d been more than a few grumbles.

The trainers never said anything, probably relieved he liked to be clean, while some of the guys were perfectly fine washing once a week. After considerable nagging.

They were all in and out in less than ten minutes, satisfied after a ‘pit test’.

If a single one had ever tried to touch him with their grubby fingers, they probably would’ve lost a digit or two.

Cleanliness got branded into Elliot’s skull from too young to ever consider rushing. He had a routine, one only broken when a thorough wash wasn’t enough and he took out the brush. Those showers took twice as long.

Until tonight.

Because he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Hair washed repeatedly, body tingling from Damon using the cloth over every inch of him, Elliot left the shower with only a token protest when his man refused to let him return the favor. He understood, on some level, how Damon was trying to get him out of the mindset of every good thing putting him in some kind of debt, but, damn…

It was a hard habit to break.

Toweling off in the bedroom, Elliot glanced at his perfectly made bed, not sure if he should climb in to wait, or do some prep like he would before certain missions. He avoided marks fucking him when he could, getting them off with a blowjob was often enough, but more than once, he’d regretted not being prepared.

Like the night with Saint Claude’s men…

Shuddering, he went to his night table, making a face as he opened the drawer where he kept his huge bottle of lube. The most boring kind possible, something doctors used for prostate exams—he’d actually gotten the recommendation for it from one of the Nexus doctors who did his monthly health checks.

For some reason, using it with Damon felt…all kinds of wrong.

Pulling on a pair of gray jogging pants, Elliot slipped out of his loft barefoot, heading straight to Parker’s before remembering his best friend was on a mission. In a half run, he went further down the hall, to Winter’s door, and lifted his hand to knock.

What the fuck am I doing?

Was he seriously gonna wake up one of the guys, in the middle of the night, to ask for lube?

Before he could retreat, the door opened, Winter standing there with Black Panther pajama pants riding low on his hips. His dark brown skin had a slight sheen to it, along with the rich scent of shea butter, like he’d rubbed on some lotion before bed. The faint aroma of mint was probably from muscle rub, meaning he’d done one of his more intense workouts to help him sleep.

I shouldn’t be bothering him. What’s wrong with me?

Humiliation jammed up Elliot’s throat, and he couldn’t get a word out.

Squinting at him—probably not sure who he was looking at without his glasses—then rubbing his eyes, Winter stepped out into the hall. Glanced both ways, his brows drawn together in confusion. “Is the building on fire? Are we under attack?”

Elliot shook his head.

“Okay, man, you’re scaring me.” Winter’s gaze went to his arm and his eyes narrowed. “Did that fucker hurt you? Get in here, I need my tools. I’m going to skin him alive.”

Eyes going wide, Elliot held up his hands, following Winter into his loft to stand in the middle of his dark living room. “No, fuck, this wasn’t…Damon didn’t do this, I did. It’s…complicated. Maybe we can talk about that some day, but that’s not why I’m here.”

Glasses on, his leather toolkit tucked under his arm, Winter turned and gave him a considering once over. “ You did that to yourself? Yeah, you better fucking believe we’ll be talking about it. Soon . Until then, what do you need?” He eyed the raw mess of Elliot’s arm again. “Other than a first aid kit.”

“Lube.” Elliot sucked in a breath when Winter arched a brow at him. “I have some, but… This was a mistake.”

“Shut up.” Winter disappeared into his bedroom, coming back out with several different bottles. “This might be news to you, but you have friends here. I mean, I consider you my friend.”

“Hell, yes, we’re friends.”

Winter inclined his head. “Then take these and stop acting like you can’t come to me about stuff. It’s bullshit. I’m glad you’re getting fucked by someone other than a damn target. It’s about time.” His lips twitched. “I was gonna seduce you myself if you didn’t find someone to relieve some of that pressure. Would’ve involved ropes and…well, probably the tingly lube.”

“Oh…” Elliot tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth. “We’re not that kind of friends, Winter.”

What should’ve been a gentle let down only earned him a shrug. “I wouldn’t be part of Eros’ Eight if I couldn’t change that, but you’ve got Damon, so it’s a non-issue. Tell him, ‘you’re welcome’.” Winter grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “I better hear sexy noises in the next fifteen minutes, or I’m coming in there to give him some pointers.”

Shaking his head, Elliot snickered and glanced back over his shoulder as he was shoved into the hall. “ Dude .”

“Love you!” Winter blew him a kiss, then shut the door in his face.

Soft laughter drew his attention to where Damon stood, wearing nothing but a towel, in front of the open door to their loft. “Do I dare ask?”

“Not unless you want me to reconsider Winter’s offer to skin you.” Elliot blew on his blazing hot face to cool it, hiding the bottles behind his back as he walked toward his man. “I just needed to ask Winter…something.”

“Uh huh.” Damon waited for him to get inside, then followed, closing the door behind him. “Come to the bedroom, I want to take care of that arm before we do anything else. While I do, you can tell me the truth.”

There was no point in hiding what Damon would see in a few minutes anyway, so Elliot dropped the bottles on the bed, next to the open medkit, and perched on the edge of the mattress. “I couldn’t use the same lube with you as I’d use with a mark, but that’s all I had. Winter provided several alternatives.”

Sitting on the other side of the medkit, Damon took out a tube of Polysporin and some bandages. “There. Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

Damon laughed and motioned for Elliot to hold out his arm. “Well, then let me get you patched up so I can make something else hard.”

“That was a terrible line.”

“Mhm. But you’re already mine, so I don’t need to come up with better.” Damon’s lips quirked, his focus fully on spreading the ointment, his tone deceptively light. He obviously didn’t like seeing Elliot hurt, but the fact that he wasn’t making a huge deal about it, now that they’d talked it over, was…huge. Bigger than any grand gesture, or perfectly worded declaration.

There was no reason for Elliot to hide from him if it ever happened again.

I don’t have to hide anything from him. He knows exactly who I am.

And he hadn’t tried to leave once.

Hadn’t tried to force Elliot to become someone he wasn’t.

That kind of acceptance, that kind of support, wasn’t something Elliot ever expected to have in his life. But once he noticed it from his man, he started becoming aware of it in others as well. His friends…his family…

“I like that smile.” Damon finished covering his arm with the bandage, from the top of his shoulder, almost to his elbow, and taped it in place. After cleaning his hands with a sterile wipe, he traced his fingers over Elliot’s lips. “If I put it there, tell me how, so I can do it again.”

“You were just being you.” Elliot caught Damon’s wrist and kissed his palm, moving to his pulse point, then rising up on his knees so they were face to face. “Keep doing that and I’ll have everything I need.”

Wrapping an arm around Elliot’s waist, Damon lifted him against his body, moving as he slanted their lips together. He laid Elliot on the bed, tugging down his jogging pants and letting his own towel fall away, leaving both of them naked.

Knees spreading Elliot’s thighs, Damon kissed down his throat, aligning their dicks to stroke them together. He grabbed a bottle of lube at random, rising up to look down at his fist around his straining length, Elliot’s trapped in place, leaking precum. Popping the cap, he spilled the lube over them both and spread it with his tight grip.

Groaning, Elliot spread his thighs further apart. “Please… Damon, I don’t need a lot of foreplay. I need you inside me.”

“Soon, baby.” Damon lengthened his strokes. “Where are your condoms?”

“In my travel kit. But…we don’t have to use them, unless you want to?” Elliot wouldn’t brush off the conversation, no matter how turned on he was. Damon had every right to want to use protection, considering what Elliot did for a living. “I’m tested regularly and I’m on Prep. I know you’re in the clear because I’ve seen your tests—”

“Is there anything my doctor didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“He has questionable ethics, but…whatever. I would’ve shown you myself, anyway.” Damon bowed down for another mind numbing kiss. “He just saved me having to get out of bed to deal with the paperwork. I am a hundred percent okay taking you raw, my little python.”

“Right now?” Elliot panted as Damon’s fist brought him closer and closer to the edge. “God…Damon, please fuck me.”

Damon sucked on the side of his neck and chuckled, releasing their dicks. “No.”

Slamming his head back on the pillows, Elliot parted his lips in protest, but when Damon picked up another bottle of lube and arched a brow, he shut his mouth and waited.

His reward was the pressure of Damon’s thick, lubed up finger circling his hole until he whimpered, followed by a slow stretch. A second finger opened him even more, curving against his prostate and rubbing on the spot none of his marks ever hit except by accident.

The smile on Damon’s lips as he watched Elliot’s face was positively wicked. “I might torture you a bit. Take you apart, little by little until you can’t do anything but gasp my name. I might make love to you for a few hours.” He added a third finger, the stretch, the rhythm, arching Elliot’s back and making him lift his hips, desperate for more. “But I won’t fuck you. Not tonight.”

Whatever Damon called it, Elliot was willing to make a thousand promises to have whatever his man was willing to offer. He sucked in a breath when Damon withdrew his fingers, holding still as the blunt head of Damon’s dick took their place.

With all the preparation, the thick head slid in without any pain, but he was still big enough that the stretch burned in the best way. Elliot pressed back against him, his body opening around the slow penetration, every inch stimulating nerves usually numbed by his effort to distance himself from what was happening.

But this time, he was completely present, experiencing everything as if it was his very first time.

Drawing out, Damon hooked Elliot’s legs around his waist, lifting him until he could see where their bodies connected as he slipped the head of his dick in and out. The muscles on the side of his neck were tense with the clear effort it took for him to hold back, but he didn’t seem in a rush to slam in.

True to his word, he was taking Elliot apart, inch by slow, torturous inch.

And loving every agonizing second.

Despite how much Elliot wanted to urge Damon to keep going, the intense focus on his man’s face, the rough sounds of pleasure, created a loop of pure bliss like nothing he’d ever experienced. He wasn’t just the cause of Damon’s pleasure, he wasn’t manipulating him with it while getting nothing in return, he was riding the hot waves right along with him.

With no destination, no finish line.

Only the two of them, enjoying skin on skin, sharing each sensation, closer than they’d ever been with anyone else.

Damon’s gaze met his and the look in his eyes sent tiny sparks along Elliot’s nerves, lighting him up until he couldn’t stand the distance between them. He wrapped his hand around the back of Damon’s neck, tugging him down.

“God, you drive me crazy.” Damon slammed his lips over Elliot’s, gripping his hips as he rocked into him, faster and faster, as though the kiss made him lose every ounce of control. “I wanted to make this last for hours, but then you look at me like that and I can’t hold back.”

“I don’t want you to hold back.” Elliot kissed Damon, working his thighs as he rose up to meet each pounding thrust. “This can still last for hours, but don’t hold back. I’ll teach you…” He gasped as Damon angled his hips, gliding over his prostate in an obvious effort to drag him into his lust fueled insanity. “I’ll teach you how to recover quickly so we can do this again. And again…”

Damon laughed, pistoning into Elliot without restraint, sweat beading on his temples, his chest, and everywhere else, combining with the dampness on Elliot’s making their hot skin slippery. The slap of each hard thrust sharpened, filling the room.

Voice breathless, Damon flicked his tongue over Elliot’s bottom lip. “You can teach me whatever you want, but I don’t think it’ll take much for you to get me hard again. The challenge will be when we’ve got to get out of this bed and put clothes on. I won’t be able to stop thinking about ripping them off.”

“Other than training, there’s not much reason for me to wear clothes at all for the next month.” Elliot sucked on the tip of Damon’s tongue. “But now I want to, just so you can show me that savage side. I love your control over me, but…” A long, deep grinding thrust stole his breath, replacing it with a moan. “Oh…fuck, Damon. You going completely wild? Yes…yes, please .”

‘Please’ seemed to be the magic word, because Damon gripped his hair and bit the side of his neck, slamming in with a low growl. Heat spread inside as Damon came, and the sensation, something that usually got Elliot craving his next shower, sent him straight into his own climax.

Muscles clenched and lips parted, Elliot cried out, white spotting the darkness of his vision, expanding along with the eruption of ecstasy. Like stars going supernova and burning him alive with pleasure, or something more poetic, but he didn’t have the words to describe it. His body had never given him feelings like this.

Not alone and not with anyone else.

But with Damon it was like dormant parts of him woke up, just for his man, ready to soak up every touch, every kiss, and fill all the emptiness within. A couple of months ago, he would’ve laughed if anyone even suggested he even needed to be filled.

Either that or knocked them the fuck out.

He’d been fine alone. He couldn’t miss what he’d never had.

Now…now he couldn’t imagine going back to that. And it scared him, more than a little.

Because without Damon, there wouldn’t be emptiness anymore. There’d be a great big gaping wound nothing could stitch back together.

When Damon shifted, drawing out of him, Elliot shook his head and wrapped his arms and legs around him. “Wait. Just…please wait. I don’t give a fuck if I’m being clingy, I need…I need you right where you are.”

“I told you I don’t want you to let me go, my little python. Did you already forget?” Damon framed Elliot’s head with his forearms and gazed down at him. “Because I can remind you, as often as it takes.”

Elliot smiled, touching his forehead to Damon’s. “You won’t have to if you keep me here like this.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to change the sheets, yet?”

Shaking his head, Elliot hissed in a breath as Damon trapped his wrists in one hand, holding them over his head as he rocked into him, dick already half hard again. There was only one answer to give, but his man would understand exactly what it meant.

He didn’t need things clean, or perfect.

Even if things got messy, he could handle it.

As long as Damon was right here with him.

Licking a bead of sweat off Damon’s jaw, Elliot savored the saltiness on the tip of his tongue.

And whispered in his man’s ear.

“You can change the sheets…after you wreck these ones.”