An odd pulling sensation alerted Riley that McClane was up to something and then Misha gasped in surprise and, yes, there was skin, finally, Misha’s wet erection bumping against Riley’s painfully hard dick and God help them all, but McClane was wrapping around both of them, formed a sheath for them. It was perfect. Warm, snug, so smooth it felt slick, and pulsing rhythmically with every beat of Riley’s racing heart.
Misha cried out and bore down, the frayed remains of his discipline gone. He rutted against Riley with a snarl of passion, short, rough jabs completely lacking in finesse that felt like heaven. Riley met him push for shove, fucked up into McClane, against Misha, mindlessly, desperately. He choked out a hoarse sound when Misha buried his face against his throat, mouthing at the tender skin, teeth scraping bluntly along Riley’s jaw. It wasn’t quite what Riley needed, and he twisted awkwardly, searching for Misha’s mouth until Misha got it, finally, goddamn it, and met him in a fierce, utterly possessive kiss that set every nerve ending of Riley’s on fire in the best damn way. McClane whined somewhere at the back of his mind, high and urgent, and tightened the sheath around them.
Riley was drowning in Misha’s scent, intoxicated by his taste, blind and deaf to everything that wasn’t the man on top of him or the creature in him and then McClane scraped together enough extra power to shift them an inch or two, tilt their hips up just so, and he licked Riley deep inside and squeezed Riley’s tight, ready balls at the same moment, and that was it.
Riley came so hard his world went white.
IT TOOK them all a while to recover. Misha, ever the neat freak, cleaned off both of them with a corner of the sheet, tucked himself back in and zipped up before he slumped down half on top of Riley and refused to move again.
Riley’s mind was empty, pleasantly so, his body heavy and relaxed—truly, blissfully relaxed—for the first time in too long. They lay in a pile of rumpled sheets, Misha plastered against Riley, his head on Riley’s shoulder, one leg hooked over Riley’s thighs, his hand splayed protectively over Riley’s heart. It was a little bit like being flattened under a slumbering lion.
The feeling of being naked when Misha was mostly dressed was odd, but Riley had never been body shy and found he enjoyed the brush of expensive fabric against his bare skin.
He didn’t even realize he was stroking Misha’s back at first, tracing firm muscle through damp silk; couldn’t find the resolve to stop when he did. The position was familiar, soothing, and Riley didn’t have the energy to keep on fighting. He’d missed Misha. He’d missed this: the solid weight pressing him into the mattress, the smell of warm, sweaty skin, the stealth nuzzling. He didn’t turn away when Misha rose up to kiss him again, leaning on his elbow so he could get a better angle, just opened his lips and welcomed Misha inside.