Chapter 9: Drunk and Needy
The doorway at the far end of the penthouse opened. The heavy oak door swung inward, and the low murmur of the call, whatever new piece of business was waiting to be settled, faded into the hum of the fireside. He closed his phone and pocketed it. The air in the living room was different, charged with something. The whiskey in his glass sent amber light across the black crystal chandelier.
A sound from the hallway. Not footsteps. A giggle. A bright, breathy, ridiculous sound. It came again, closer. Then Raven appeared in the archway. He was swaying. The charcoal suit jacket was gone, the shirt untucked, half-buttoned. His hair was a wreck, his eyeliner smudged. His cheeks were flushed pink. He was holding a half-empty glass of something pale that glittered in the firelight.
He saw Dante and his whole face lit up. "There you are," he slurred, pointing. "Where were you? I mean. Gone. For so long. And they kept giving me these." He sloshed the drink, a wobble of it spilling onto his wrist. "Said you'd like it if I was happy. Or something."
Dante watched him. The meeting had gone well. The men had been sent home satisfied. But that wasn't what any of this was about. He set the glass down slowly.
"Who gave you drinks?"
Raven shrugged, a loose, boneless motion. He was already crossing the room, his steps uneven. He tripped on the rug and came up against Dante's chest, hands fisting in the cotton of his shirt. The glass tipped, spilling the last of the drink down Dante's front. Raven didn't notice. He looked up with those bright, dilated blue eyes. "Hi," he breathed.
"Hi," Dante repeated, a low, amused rumble.
Raven laughed, a small, happy sound. He rubbed his face against Dante's chest, then tilted his chin up, demanding. "Kiss me." He stood on his toes, reaching, already making grabby hands at Dante's jaw. "Right now. Please."
Dante's hand came up, not to kiss him, but to grip his chin, turning Raven's face side to side in the lamplight. The boy was drunk. Thoroughly. The sweet smell of peach liqueur hung off his breath, clashing with the lavender of his skin. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, huge. His body was a live wire against Dante's, buzzing with a hyperactive, loose-limbed energy that was nothing like the tense, coiled thing he knew.
"You're drunk." It wasn't an accusation. It was a statement of fact, catalogued and filed.
"No," Raven said, dragging the word out. "I'm warm." He pressed closer, his cheek against Dante's chest, clinging. His hands slid up to grip the lapels of Dante's jacket. "You're warm too. You're always warm. How do you do that? You're so big and warm and you smell so good."
A flicker of dark amusement tightened the corner of Dante's mouth. This was new. The boy's walls, all those layered defenses of wit and wariness, dissolved into a clingy, desperate sweetness. The power dynamic shifted into something even more raw. Raven wasn't just obedient. He was needy. His hands roamed Dante's chest, his back, as if trying to claim territory.
"They didn't come near you?"
"No, they were nice." Raven hummed. "Vinny? Vinnie? He told me a story about, um, a horse. And a, a swimming pool. I don't remember. It was funny." He giggled again, the sound thick and loose. Then he looked up, his expression suddenly, comically serious. "You missed dinner. You missed dinner and I wore the suit for you and you didn't even see it."
"I saw it," Dante said. He had. The memory of Raven waiting in the bedroom, stripped down to his briefs, the plug seated, was a bolt of heat in his gut.
"No, you didn't." Raven pouted. His bottom lip pushed out, full and pink. "You were locked in your scary room with your scary man talk. I heard you from the hall. You sounded angry." He traced a fingertip down the open collar of Dante's shirt, a slow, deliberate path over the exposed skin. "I wanted to come in. I wanted to sit on your lap while you were being scary."
"You'd have gotten a different kind of lesson."
Raven's breath hitched. His pupils blew wide, the darkness swallowing the ring of blue. "Yeah?" The word was a whisper, full of a heavy, liquid heat. He licked his lips. "Would you have made me stay there? In front of them? On your lap while you talked about, um, shipping routes and things?"
Dante's hand slid down Raven's spine, a firm grip on the small of his back. "You'd have been very quiet."
"I don't think I would have been," Raven said. He was already arching into the touch, a helpless, unconscious roll of his hips. "Not if I was on your lap. I can never be quiet when you touch me. You know that."
"I know." Dante's thumb traced the line of Raven's jaw. "So the lesson would have been about silence. About control."
Raven groaned, dropping his forehead to Dante's chest. "That's not fair. You're not supposed to say things like that when I'm like this." His words were muffled in the fabric of the shirt. "My head is all fuzzy and you're just, like, pouring fire into my veins."
Dante pulled him closer, one hand tangling in the choppy dark hair at the nape of Raven's neck. He tilted Raven's head back, forcing eye contact. The boy's makeup had smeared slightly, the kohl bleeding around the edges. It made him look ruined already. He liked that.
"You came to me," Dante said, his voice low. "You had drinks, you got loose, and you came to me. You wanted my attention. Now you have it. So what are you going to do with it?"
Raven's eyes went hazy. He swayed closer. One hand slid down Dante's chest to the waistband of his trousers, fingers hooking there. "I want," he started, then stopped. His tongue came out, wetting his lower lip. "I want you to fuck the last hour out of my head. I want to forget I was waiting. I want to just feel you. Please."
Dante's thumb stilled on Raven's jaw. The boy was a mess, all loose limbs and glassy eyes, begging to be taken apart. That was not new. The way he was doing it was new. The needy, open, unguarded way he was doing it made something twist in Dante's chest, something he did not have a name for and did not want.
"You're not in any shape to make demands," Dante said. His hand slid from Raven's jaw down to his throat, a light cage. "You had drinks. You slur your words. You can barely stand."
"I can stand," Raven protested. He pushed back, wobbling, then immediately swayed forward again, fisting both hands in Dante's shirt. "Okay. Maybe not. But my mouth works fine. I can show you."
The laugh that rumbled out of Dante's chest surprised him. It was low and rough, and it made Raven's eyes light up like a struck match. He pressed closer, grinding his hips against Dante's thigh in a clumsy, desperate roll.
"You laughed," Raven breathed, delighted. "You never laugh. Do it again."
"Get on the couch."
Raven blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Couch. Now."
Raven's mouth fell open. For a moment he looked like he might argue, a tipsy defiance flashing behind the glassy blue. Then it collapsed, and he nodded, stumbling backward until his knees hit the velvet cushion. He sat hard, the robe riding up his thighs.
Dante followed him. He stood over him, looking down. The firelight caught the smudged kohl on Raven's cheeks, the bitten-pink mouth, the heaving chest under the too-loose shirt.
"Spread your legs."
Raven did it immediately, his thighs falling apart, the silk robe pooling between them. "Like this?"
"Wider." Dante watched him obey, his breath quickening. "Good boy."
The words hit Raven like a current. He moaned, low and desperate, his hands fisting in the velvet. "Please. Dante. Please touch me. I need it. I've been waiting all night and I'm so empty and I just, I need you inside me. Please."
Dante did not move. "You want my cock?"
"Yes. God, yes." Raven was already reaching for him, his fingers fumbling at Dante's belt. "Please, I want it so bad, I can feel it, I'm so wet, I've been like this for hours, thinking about you—"
"Then open yourself up."
Raven froze. His hand hovered over Dante's buckle. "What?"
"You heard me. You want it that bad. Show me how bad." Dante's voice was silk and gravel. "Show me what you do when I'm not here. Get yourself ready for me."
A shudder ran through Raven's whole body. His face flushed darker, and his tongue came out to wet his lips. "You want to watch?"
"I want to see the hole I'm going to fuck. I want to see how desperate you are."
Raven's breath hitched. For a long moment he just stared up at Dante, something raw and helpless flickering behind his eyes. Then he swallowed, nodded, and leaned back on the couch, his hands sliding down his own stomach.
He was so undone. Sloppy and drunk and eager, his fingers trailing through the wetness of his cunt, spreading it, showing Dante everything. He pushed two fingers inside himself with a moan, his head falling back, his hips rolling into his own touch.
"There," Raven gasped. "See? I'm so ready. I'm so wet for you. Please. Please, Dante, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me."
Dante watched him, his own cock aching against his trousers. The boy was a revelation. This was no practiced performance. This was pure, unfiltered need, poured out like liquor.
Dante reached down and unbuckled his belt. The sound of it sliding free made Raven's eyes snap open, made his fingers still inside himself.
"Keep going," Dante ordered. "Don't stop."
Raven whimpered, but he obeyed, his fingers pumping in and out of his own cunt while Dante freed his cock. The sight of it made Raven moan, a desperate, keening sound.
"Please," he begged. "I need it. I need you so deep."
Dante grabbed Raven's ankles and yanked, dragging him down the couch until his ass was at the edge. Raven's fingers slid out, wet and glistening. Dante gripped his thighs, spread him wide, and pressed the head of his cock to that slick, pulsing entrance.
Raven's whole body went rigid with anticipation. "Yes. Yes, please, yes—"
Dante slammed into him.
Raven screamed, arching off the couch, his back bowing as Dante buried himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. The heat of him was exquisite, tight and soaked, gripping Dante's cock like a vice.
"Oh, fuck," Raven sobbed, his nails raking the velvet. "Fuck, yes, that's it, that's it, don't stop, please don't stop."
Dante didn't stop. He pulled out until only the head remained, then drove back in, setting a punishing rhythm that had Raven's eyes rolling back in his head. The couch creaked under them, the fire crackled, and Raven was a wreck, babbling, cursing, clinging.
"You feel so good." Dante's voice was a ragged growl. "So fucking tight. You've been aching for this, haven't you? Aching to have my cock splitting you open."
"Yes. Fuck, yes. Always. I always want it." Raven's hands scrabbled for purchase, finding Dante's forearms, gripping them. "I want you so bad. I think about you all the time. I think about your cock and your hands and the way you look at me like you want to eat me alive—"
"I do want to eat you alive." Dante leaned down, his mouth against Raven's ear. "I want to take you apart piece by piece until there's nothing left but the sounds you make for me."
Raven came apart under him. His whole body seized, his mouth open in a soundless cry, his cunt clenching around Dante's cock in violent pulses. Dante drove through it, riding the waves of Raven's orgasm, chasing his own.
"Look at me." Dante's hand closed on Raven's jaw, forcing his glassy eyes up. "Watch me fill you."
Raven's eyes locked on his, blown wide and desperate and utterly lost. Dante slammed into him one last time and came, flooding him, watching Raven's face shift as he felt it, a raw, animal relief.
Dante stayed inside him, breathing hard, his forehead against Raven's. The fire crackled. The only sound was their ragged breath.
"Stay there," Dante said finally, pulling out slowly. Raven whimpered at the loss, his legs trembling. "Don't move."
He went to the bathroom and came back with a warm cloth. Raven was still sprawled on the couch, obedient, his eyes closed, a slack, sated smile on his face. Dante cleaned him gently, wiping the slick from his thighs, the come from his stomach.
"Was that good?" Raven murmured, not opening his eyes. "Did I do good?"
"Slept through the best part," Dante said. "You'll have to earn a repeat tomorrow."
Raven's eyes flew open. "What? No, I—I was in it, I swear—"
Dante dropped the cloth and leaned down, kissing him hard, swallowing the rest of the protest. When he pulled back, Raven was dazed again.
"Sleep," Dante ordered. "Now."
Raven opened his mouth, then closed it. He nodded, curling into the couch, his eyes already fluttering shut. Within seconds, his breathing evened out.
Dante stood over him, watching the firelight play across the boy's ruined face. The meeting had gone well. The drinks had been a calculation, one of his men testing boundaries. That would need addressing. But this, this sprawled, spent creature on his couch, this was not part of any plan that had been written down.
He picked up his whiskey from the side table and took a long drink, watching Raven sleep.