Page 70 of Game Misconduct

But when it came down to it, at the heart of things, Danny was fucking terrified of not having it, because of what that might mean and what he might reveal. Someone like Mike, someone brave and open and giving, just let everything go like it was easy, and it was fucking heady to be on the other end of it. Danny didn’t have that capability.

Or he hadn’t had that capability. He didn’t know if he could—

“Mike...”

Mike, with Danny’s hand still bruising his throat, smiled. His voice was quiet, rough, like he was sharing a secret, even though they were alone in the room. “I want this. I’m asking for it. Will you?”

Sometimes, with Mike, it was easy to let things happen, easy to be swept up by the fact that Danny loved him and would give him anything he wanted. But this would be a conscious choice or even, more accurately, a struggle. Mike was watching him, and his expression was so... Danny could feel something in his chest break under it.

“All right,” he said, and his mouth was desert dry. He let go of Mike’s throat. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Who said anything about mercy, dude?” Mike was grinning at him in a way that made Danny’s skin go hot. “C’mon, Danny, strip ’em.”

It took him a minute to process the order—Jesus, Mike really had meant it—but he did it. Unzipped the hoodie first, pulled off his sweater, started to undo his belt. Mike stared at him the whole time, a hungry look that made it easier, somehow.

“Jesus, Danny, you are so—fucking—hot—”

He was naked, now, and Mike was still fully clothed. Danny felt off-kilter, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar power imbalance, and the fact that the windows along the far wall of the room were huge and completely uncovered, even if they were on the twenty-ninth floor. But his dick, apparently, was into it. Mike didn’t touch it, though, just stepped forward and traced his hand over Danny’s chest, down his torso, his abdomen.

“I think about you naked like all the fucking time,” Mike said, almost like he didn’t realize he was saying it, and Danny, whose natural inclination was to make a cutting remark, couldn’t, frozen under Mike’s regard, his admiration. “And like—how strong you are, how you could do whatever you wanted to me but you—you’re letting me—”

“Mike—”

“Hey,” Mike said, that shit-eating grin on his face again, “why don’t we go over to the window, huh?”

Danny dug his teeth into his lower lip, but he went over to the window, and Mike followed him and said, “Okay, but you can’t touch me until I let you, and you can’t come until I tell you.”

“Mike...”

“Sucks when it’s you, huh? Don’t like the tables turned?”

“I—I don’t usually—”

“I know you don’t, babe, but it’s—I’ll make it good for you. I promise. Do you trust me?”

He thought about it, barely a second, before he knew. “I—I do.” The problem was that he didn’t entirely trust himself.

It turned out that Mike was a little demon who’d been taking notes. Danny, standing in front of the window, felt horribly, awfully exposed as Mike got down on his knees in front of him, stared up at him almost reverently. And then he was biting his lip when Mike took Danny’s dick in his hand and stroked it, palm rough and dry. Even fully clothed he looked almost pornographic, the way his lips were parted, his face flushed. Danny couldseejust in his eyes how much he wanted this, and it was overwhelming.

He made a noise when Mike went down on him, the wet heat of his mouth, the way his hands smoothed themselves over Danny’s thighs, tracing the lines of muscle. He could feel the give at the back of Mike’s mouth, tight around him. He fought the urge to thrust forward, because he knew Mike wanted him to stay still, but it was almost too much. Danny closed his eyes, trying to regain control, and Mike pulled away. “Nuh-uh, dude. Keep ’em open.”

Danny didn’t know where to look. Looking down at Mike was overwhelming, Mike’s hands and mouth were overwhelming, but it was somehow worse to look straight ahead at the lights of Vegas sparkling below them. It didn’t help that Mike was fucking teasing him, alternating between sucking him off enthusiastically and exploring the depths of Danny’s self-control with sly fingers on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, his balls, just barely skirting the rim of his ass. He dug his teeth into his lower lip and bit down another groan, his legs shaking.

It had been almost a month since Danny had gotten off anywhere except his own hand, and Mike was taking full advantage. He would bring Danny right up to the edge before pulling back and lurching to his feet to kiss him sloppily, enthusiastically, his mouth a little salty. It felt like it went on forever. Danny was losing track of time. He could feel everything: the warmth of Mike’s lips, the way Mike’s jersey and jeans felt rubbing against his overheated skin. When he looked down, he’d left a damp streak across Mike’s torso, and he realized how hard he was breathing, how ragged, how the sweat was beading his temples.

“Mike—”

“I’m not done with you. Stay—stay right there. Stay still.”

Danny had a good idea of where this was going when Mike knelt behind him, but he still wasn’t exactly prepared for the way it felt, how difficult it was to stay on his feet when Mike’s tongue was torturing him, when he was already trembling on the edge of losing control.

Mike stopped. “Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy and rough. He sounded so fuckingsmugthat Danny wanted to smack him in the face. But they weren’t doing that today. “I told you that you can’t come yet.”

“I—I know, I’m fucking—”

Mike didn’t answer, just went back to eating him out, torturously slow and methodical, and Danny lost both language and the little semblance of self-control he had. He didn’t even want to think about what he would have looked like if someone was looking in the window. A gasping, moaning mess of a man, barely on his feet, his hands flickering at his sides because he had tomovebut didn’t know what to do with them, his head thrown back. Finally, Mike let up to take a breath, and Danny’s legs folded in on themselves, and before he could do anything about it, he found himself crumpled on the floor.

“Damn,” Mike said, crawling into his lap and pressing wet, biting kisses into Danny’s neck. “Danny,Jesus.”