Breathe (His Command Book 5) Read online

  “The most sacred of oaths,” Cedric reminded him. “If you break it, your pinkie will fall off. This is the big leagues, Oli. Don’t mess it up.”

  “The pressure is crushing. I don’t know if I can take it.” Oli took his pinkie back. “You’re a dork. Thank you for being my friend. Now get the hell out of my new condo—I’ve got some christening to do.”

  “Gross.”

  “Yeah, and that baby didn’t find its way into Gabriel while you guys were holding hands.” Oli put his hands on Cedric’s shoulders, turned him around, and pushed him out the door. Cedric played along. They parted ways. “Take care. I’ll be in touch soon, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  Oli closed the door, let out a stale breath, and turned to find Marshall was standing not even a foot behind him. With a stifled shout, Oli jumped.

  “What was that I heard about christening?” Marshall asked, his voice low and sweet. He leaned forward so that his lips were next to Oli’s ear. The tubing of his cannula looped between them, brushing gently against Oli’s shirt. “Are you ready to play again, Oliver?”

  The instant erection in Oli’s pants said yes. The shiver running down his spine said yes, too. In fact, every part of him was in agreement. “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t I introduce you to the bedroom properly?” Marshall asked against his ear. His hand found its way to Oli’s, and Oli was too bewitched by him to dream of rejecting it.

  “This is the part in the comedy where the scene fades to black,” Oli said breathlessly.

  “Good thing we’re the actors.” Marshall’s words were fire, and Oli was the gasoline. “I think it’d be true to character to act this one out, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Oli’s hand tightened around Marshall’s. “I... I’m going to need some dress rehearsals, though. Undress rehearsals. Like. Many. Probably several days’ worth. I’m a diva.”

  “I was hoping you might say that.” Marshall nipped his earlobe, and Oli let out a tiny gasp that curled into a moan. “If that’s the case, we should get started immediately. We’ll need all the practice we can get before the show starts.”

  Oli wouldn’t argue with that.

  23

  Marshall

  They sank down into the sheets together. Oliver’s eyes were already lidded, and he sought out Marshall’s lips instinctively. A single, scorching kiss united them. It left Marshall so breathless that he had to push away from Oliver and lie on his back to catch his breath. Heart pounding, lungs screaming for air despite the portable oxygen compressor he carried, it looked like he’d fail to deliver on his promise.

  “Are you okay?” Oliver asked in a whisper. He cuddled close and pressed a trail of kisses along Marshall’s jaw until he arrived at the corner of Marshall’s lips. As much as he wanted to, Marshall was unable to return his affection. “I don’t mind being on top, you know. You don’t have to screw me into the sheets—I’ve very capable of fucking myself on your cock, thank you very much.”

  Marshall grinned. “I know.”

  “Then why do you look like I told you Christmas has just been canceled?” Oliver traced a finger down Marshall’s chest. His touch sent sparks across Marshall’s skin, and he let air escape slowly through his lips as the feeling sank through his muscle and into his bones. “We had fun at The Shepherd, didn’t we? We can have fun again.”

  “Not the kind of fun I want to have,” Marshall replied. “Not the kind of fun you deserve.”

  “You’re full of it.” Oliver kissed his jaw again, and this time when his fingers traced down Marshall’s chest, he undid the buttons of his shirt one by one. Marshall’s shirt fell open, and Oliver’s hand slid over his toned stomach and to his pecs. “But… I’ll humor you. What kind of fun do I deserve?”

  The answer came easily, but it wasn’t anywhere near as easy to admit out loud. Marshall closed his eyes. “You deserve to be kissed even when we’re in the midst of passion. You deserve to be guided through your arousal on a cerebral level.”

  “There you go about the whole cerebral thing again,” Oliver murmured. Another kiss found its way to Marshall’s jaw, this one close to his lips. “I understand that your body isn’t all there right now. I get it, and that’s okay. You don’t always need to be the perfect partner—if the sex is good, but not great, that’s still fine with me. The important part is that I’m having it with you.”

  Oliver’s sentiment was sweet, but to Marshall, losing the dominant part of himself to his disease was a blow he wasn’t sure he could take. At The Shepherd, he’d pushed himself hard and found a way around his health by letting Oli do the majority of the work—but the situation was different now. Their emotional connection had blossomed, and Marshall wanted more than anything to let Oliver meet the man he’d once been—the man who now only lived in their text conversations.

  A jarring revelation pulled Marshall out of his sorrow and reshaped his world.

  “Are you really willing to take care of your physical pleasure on your own?” Marshall asked. Oliver’s hand had traced downward, and he stroked the fabric over Marshall’s groin absentmindedly, stirring Marshall’s cock.

  “Yup.” Oliver kissed his neck this time. His other hand worked to push Marshall’s shirt down his shoulders. “Totally ready to work myself to orgasm. You bring the cock, and I’ll bring the rock and roll.”

  “Then if that’s the case, while you take care of the physical, I’ll take care of the psychological.” Oliver pulled back and propped himself up on his hands so he could look at Marshall. All Marshall could do was grin at him. “Get your phone, Oliver. You might steal the air from my lungs and, in consequence, the words from my mouth, but I will not be silenced.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Oliver asked. He pulled his phone from his pocket, then lifted his hips and undid his fly. Marshall watched as he wiggled out of his pants. The front of his boxer-briefs were distended by his erection. “You’re going to… fuck, Marshall.” Desire shaped his words, and Marshall knew that he was every bit as excited about the idea as Marshall was. “Are you really going to do it?”

  “I am.”

  “I…” A blush shaded Oliver’s cheeks. He stripped out of his shirt and cast it aside, then went to work on removing Marshall’s slacks. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

  “Neither have I.” Marshall’s grin persisted. “But I can’t think of any other way to make sure I still have a voice when my body silences me. I want this to be like it was before—when we were Alcrest and Oliver. You deserve the whole package, not just my body or my mind, and I will give you both… but until I’m recovered, we’ll have to improvise.”

  Marshall’s phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Oliver.

  Then shut up and start talking to me.

  Marshall’s cock twitched. The mattress dipped, and he glanced from his phone to find that Oliver had risen up and was wiggling out of his boxer-briefs. He cast them aside, plucked the lube from the bedside table, and snapped the lid open.

  You’ve already left me breathless, Oliver, Marshall messaged back. Oliver paused what he was doing to look at his screen, shot Marshall a mischievous smile, and composed a quick reply.

  A buzz.

  Brb doing something.

  Marshall set his phone on his chest and watched as Oliver coated his fingers with lube. He climbed onto the bed again and straddled Marshall’s hips so his thighs were spread. Then, as he held Marshall’s gaze, he penetrated himself with his lubricated fingers. Marshall’s lungs tightened, and he struggled to hold back a cough as he watched Oliver sink down onto himself. Oliver’s lower lip trembled, and he tilted his head back as he started to rock his hips, riding himself.

  Marshall couldn’t talk. He could barely breathe. His heart raced, and he was sure had he not been lying down, the world would have started to spin. What Oliver did was nothing short of magic, and Marshall still couldn’t wrap his head entirely around the fact that the young man he’d come to love online w
as now in his bedroom, naked and pregnant by him. Nothing so good ever happened.

  How had he ever gotten so lucky?

  With a gasp, Oliver parted his fingers from his body and poured more lube, this time onto his palm. He leaned forward so that his nose hovered a few inches above Marshall’s. They looked each other in the eyes. Then, without a word, Oliver wrapped his lubricated hand around Marshall’s cock and started to stroke.

  All the air left Marshall’s lungs at once, and he coughed dryly and struggled to regain control of himself. Oliver’s hand slowed, but it didn’t stop—it wouldn’t stop. Marshall had left him in charge of their physical contact, and he knew Oliver would get the job done.

  The wet sound of Oliver’s hand on his cock filled the quiet bedroom. Marshall worked his hips into Oliver’s hand, careful not to move too fast. Exhausting himself now would be a catastrophic loss—Marshall wasn’t prepared to let things end just yet.

  Oliver’s fingers tested his shaft, checking to make sure he was lubricated beneath the ridge of his head and all along his shaft. Then, as Marshall’s pleasure peaked, he took his hand away. A needy gasp parted from Marshall’s lips as Oliver sat back and picked up his phone again. A second later, Marshall’s own buzzed.

  Back now. Sorry. I was doing something and ended up getting a little too into it. Guess I got carried away.

  Now that you’re back, you will not leave again, Marshall replied. His eyes locked momentarily with Oliver’s, and he watched as Oliver’s lips parted slightly from arousal. I’m too selfish to ever let you go.

  What are you doing to do to me now that you have me? Oliver asked.

  I’m going to fuck you senseless, Oliver. Marshall looked up over his phone at Oliver, who’d just drawn in a shaky breath as he read the message. A trail of precum slid from his dripping slit along his shaft. Marshall struggled to keep his breathing even and unlabored. I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll be the one left gasping for breath.

  Oliver sucked in a breath between his teeth. He remained on his knees, his cock bobbing as it fought gravity, his phone clutched in his hand. He was beautiful, and he would be Marshall’s, no matter how Marshall’s health tried to keep them apart.

  You’ll do as I say, Marshall wrote. Oliver glanced from the screen of his phone into his eyes. Lust clouded his expression, and Marshall couldn’t get enough of it. You’ll climb on my cock and sink down until there’s no more space left between us. You’ll rock your hips slowly, gyrating so you can feel every inch of me inside you.

  There was no written reply. Instead, Oliver crawled up the bed to straddle Marshall’s hips again. His free hand wrapped around the base of Marshall’s cock, holding it in position as he sank down slowly. Marshall’s heart skipped a beat and his lungs tightened. He drew a deep breath and released it slowly in an attempt to save himself from exhaustion, but it was little use. The moment the head of his cock pushed against Oliver’s entrance and slipped into his warm heat, Marshall knew he was defeated.

  He gasped for air, unable to speak, but even as he did, he typed.

  You love to be stretched, don’t you? You love to have your body pushed to its limits, forced to endure pleasure after pleasure while your mind goes numb and your instinctual need to mate takes control. Crude, primal pleasure. All you want to do is relinquish control to me, isn’t that right? You want to know that no matter what, you’ll have someone there to keep your body filled.

  Oliver made a hitched noise of pleasure in his throat, and he sank down Marshall’s shaft until Marshall was buried all the way inside of him. Oliver’s tight walls squeezed, and Marshall wished he could flip them both over and thrust like any other man his age would have been able to do. Instead, he held Oliver’s hips as Oliver gyrated and squirmed, sometimes lifting his ass up the tiniest bit so he could send Marshall deeper into him all over again. The pleasure was stunning, and the show was even more beautiful. From where he lay, Marshall was able to witness his cock disappear into Oliver’s body, and every time Oliver lifted his hips, Marshall saw as his shaft appeared, then disappeared again. More precum had begun to slide down Oliver’s shaft, pooling in the creased skin of his balls. Marshall took his hands away from Oliver’s hips and let him move unassisted. It didn’t change a thing.

  I’m here to take that control from you, Marshall wrote. The message came more slowly than the others, his attention divided between his screen and the gorgeous scene unfolding before him. Every word you speak, every breath you take, and everything you feel is of my doing. Are you ready for that, Oliver? Are you ready to let yourself go completely? Are you ready to give yourself over to pleasure and leave worry to me?

  Oliver’s body bucked forward, and a flighty gasp parted from his lips that brought Marshall’s heart to a halt.

  You’re going to make me come, Oliver wrote. His arms trembled, and Marshall watched as he struggled to compose his message while simultaneously pumping himself on Marshall’s cock. Fuck, Marshall, you’re going to make me come.

  You will not come. Marshall took in a rattling breath, doing his best to keep still and ground himself while Oliver rocked frantically on his cock. Pleasure twisted inside of him, coiling tight inside his balls. He needed to come, too, but he wouldn’t—not until he knew that Oliver was his, and truly his. Not until he knew that the dynamic was established between them, and Oliver was aware that he was serious. Not yet. Let it take over. Let it rip through you. Let it steal your rational thought and lift you higher. I want you to be better than this, Oliver. I want you to hold back for me.

  Oliver keened. He let his head fall forward, his shoulders slumped like he was defeated. One hand braced itself on Marshall’s hip, the other still holding his phone. He rose and fell on Marshall’s cock now, letting Marshall sink back into him over and over again.

  I’m going to teach you what it’s like to be helpless to your body, Marshall wrote, excitement pooling in his gut as his balls tightened and threatened to spill. The sight of Oliver riding him was too much to take. He needed to see Oliver come before he could let this end, and with the way pinpricks of darkness were starting to erode the corners of his vision, he knew he had to do it soon. And then, I’m going to teach you how to let go.

  24

  Oli

  Marshall’s cock owned him, and all Oli could do was bounce himself on it, hoping that before long, it would decide to let him go. Rational thought was gone, replaced by something far more basic—something that made him want to keep Marshall inside of him for as long as he could, if only so that when Marshall inevitably knotted his ass, the load he shot would flood him.

  The phone in Oliver’s hand buzzed. Eyes bleary, he lifted his head just enough so that he could read the new message.

  You will learn to focus on your body and nothing else.

  What else would he be focused on? Marshall’s cock stretched his ass and brushed against Oli’s prostate in a teasing way that made Oli never want to stop working his hips. He felt the tension in his gut and the goosebumps that raced down his arms, even though his skin was too warm to warrant them. He was focused on his body. That was what sex was about.

  But Marshall didn’t seem convinced.

  When you drown out exterior thought, you will find release. All you need to do is learn how to shut out everything else—how to draw yourself into your mind and feel your body instead of simply experience it.

  Oli didn’t do kink. If this was some BDSM concept, he had no idea what Marshall was talking about—but everything about Marshall turned him the hell on, and the thought of surrendering his body to Marshall was a damned attractive concept. He closed his eyes and focused on riding, lifting his hips only to sink down again. Marshall’s thick cock stretched him and dominated him from the inside, and his words held Oli’s imagination captive and completed the experience. If he pushed just a little harder, he’d come without touching himself. That was the point, wasn’t it? Easy, groundbreaking pleasure?

  His phone buzzed again, and Oli opened
his eyes.

  Imagine yourself pinned. Already his heart sped up, and he let out a moan that refused to be contained. His eyes parted from the screen of his phone to take in the man beneath him—physically stunning, but internally broken. How could Marshall ever have wanted to give up? Oli moaned again and rocked himself on Marshall’s cock, too hooked on his body to ever consider parting from it. If he didn’t have Marshall… Imagine it’s me on top of you, pinning you to the mattress, your hands forced down and locked into place above your head, and my cock shoved into your ass.

  Oli cried out and dropped down on Marshall’s cock as a startling wave of pleasure washed through him. His stomach clenched and his balls tightened. Seconds away from coming, he talked himself back down. Marshall hadn’t given him permission yet. He wanted to be good.

  I’m fucking you, Oliver. Oli didn’t think he could take much more—the urge to come was overwhelming, and every new movement pushed him that much closer to the edge. You’re beneath me, helpless, and I’m fucking you senseless. But it isn’t enough, is it? You need more.

  Fuck yes, he did. Oli cried out again, but his voice was meeker this time, diluted by the orgasm he wasn’t allowed to have. Why was Marshall doing this to him? Tears prickled the corners of his eyes. He needed to come. He needed it.

  I can tell you’re close. Oli wiggled his hips from side to side, trying to stave off orgasm, but it wasn’t helping. His body was ready to let it all go. But I can also tell that you need something else—something to intensify the experience. You need to forget everything but the way your body feels. My free hand strokes your cheek, then traces along your jaw and wraps around your neck. What happens if I squeeze?

  Oli’s throat clenched, and he let out a choked cry only to find he couldn’t replenish the air in his lungs. Marshall was painting a picture, but Oli’s body made it real.