Chapter 2: The Edge of the Rug
Josh didn’t give him time to catch his breath. One arm hooked around Ender’s waist, and then they were moving—a clumsy, half-laughing tumble off the couch, Ender’s back hitting the plush rug with a soft thud that knocked the air from his lungs. The throw pillows scattered under his shoulders. The coffee mug on the table rattled, still half-full and gone cold.
Josh followed him down, knees bracketing Ender’s hips, sweat still cooling on his skin from the run. He smelled like salt and outside air, and his grin was sharp enough to cut.
“Comfortable?”
Ender opened his mouth to answer, but Josh caught both his wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head. The rug fibers were rough against his knuckles. His shirt was still bunched at his ribs. His jeans were still tangled around one ankle, and he was so exposed it made his stomach flip.
“Josh—”
“Shh.” Josh’s free hand found the vibrator on the floor. He picked it up, and the silicone was still warm from being inside Ender. Still slick. He dragged the tip along Ender’s inner thigh, a slow, lazy line that made Ender’s leg jerk.
“You’re shaking,” Josh said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” Josh pressed the button. The vibrator hummed to life, a low buzz that Ender felt in his teeth. Josh touched it to the sensitive skin just below his hip, then higher, then lower. Never where Ender wanted it. “You were so eager a minute ago. What happened?”
Ender’s face burned. He tried to twist away, but Josh’s grip on his wrists held firm. The afternoon sun striped across the rug in golden bands, and the citrus candle still smelled sweet and sharp, and Ender could hear his own breath coming too fast.
“Josh, please—”
“Please what?” Josh circled the buzzing tip around Ender’s entrance, close enough that Ender’s hips bucked up, chasing it. Josh pulled it away. “Use your words, baby. You were doing so good before I came home.”
The word baby landed somewhere deep in Ender’s chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t make me say it.”
“I’m not making you do anything.” Josh’s voice was soft, but the hum of the vibrator was not. He pressed it flat against Ender’s perineum, and Ender’s whole body clenched. “I’m asking. Because I want to hear it.”
A frustrated sound tore out of Ender’s throat. He yanked at his wrists, not to get free—just to feel the resistance, just to have something to push against. Josh held him easily.
“Tell me what you were chasing,” Josh said. “On my couch. With my remote. While I was gone.”
Ender’s eyes stung. Not from sadness. From the sheer humiliation of being seen, of being known, and the way Josh’s voice made it feel less like a wound and more like a door opening.
“You,” Ender whispered.
Josh stilled. The vibrator kept buzzing, but his hand stopped moving. “Say it again.”
“You.” Ender’s voice cracked. “I was thinking about you. Your hands. The way you—in the kitchen this morning. I wanted you to come back and find me.”
Josh’s grin faded into something quieter. Something hungry. He leaned down, close enough that his breath warmed Ender’s cheek. “And now I’m here. So what do you want?”
Ender’s hips shifted. The vibrator was still pressed against him, not inside, and the ache was unbearable. “I want you to stop teasing me.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m asking.”
“Then please.” The word came out broken. Desperate. Ender didn’t care anymore. “Please, Josh. Put it back in. I need—I need you to.”
Josh kissed the corner of his mouth, gentle, almost chaste. Then he pushed the vibrator inside.
Ender cried out. His back arched off the rug, his wrists straining against Josh’s grip, and Josh didn’t stop. He worked it in slow, steady, watching Ender’s face the whole time. The vibration pulsed against every nerve, and Ender’s thighs trembled, and he was so close already, so embarrassingly close, just from being filled.
“There you go,” Josh murmured. “That’s what you needed, huh?”
Ender couldn’t answer. Josh’s mouth was on his chest now, hot and open, kissing down his sternum, then lower. His tongue dragged across Ender’s nipple, and Ender sobbed. His hands were still pinned above his head, and he had never felt so helpless or so safe.
“You’re doing so good,” Josh said against his skin. “Taking it so pretty.”
The vibrator hit something deep, and Ender’s vision went white at the edges. He was gasping, hips rolling, chasing the angle. Josh let him. Josh watched him with dark eyes and a soft mouth, and when Ender finally tipped over the edge, it wasn’t quiet.
It was a sob. A full-body shudder. A broken moan of Josh’s name that echoed off the living room walls.
Josh worked him through it, slow and gentle, until Ender went limp and the vibrator’s hum became too much. Then Josh clicked it off and slid it out, careful, almost reverent. He released Ender’s wrists and gathered him up, pulling Ender against his chest, sweat and salt and the steady thump of his heart.
Ender buried his face in Josh’s neck. His eyes were wet. His whole body felt wrung out and warm, like the sun had soaked all the way through him.
“I’m sorry I snuck around,” he mumbled.
Josh’s hand came up to stroke his hair. “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” Josh pressed a kiss to his temple. “Because I meant what I said. Every orgasm from now on—mine. You want something, you ask. You need something, you tell me. Deal?”
Ender nodded against his throat. His cheeks were still hot, but the shame had burned off, leaving something raw and bright underneath. He felt seen. He felt wanted.
Josh shifted, easing Ender onto his back again, and smiled down at him. The sun had moved across the rug, longer shadows now, the afternoon bleeding into evening.
“Now,” Josh said, and his voice had that wicked edge again, the one that made Ender’s stomach flip. “I believe I promised you a demonstration. And I’m not done yet.”
Ender’s breath caught. He didn’t hide his face. He didn’t look away.
He reached up and pulled Josh down by the collar of his shirt.
“Then don’t stop,” he said.