Asher barely had time to react before a firm hand gripped his waist, pulling him back down onto the bed. His breath hitched, his entire body tensing as the warmth of Ezekiel's touch burned through the thin fabric of his shirt.
"Where do you think you're going?" Zeke's voice was low, rough with something dark and dangerous. His fingers tightened against Asher's hips. "Not when I'm so riled up. You woke my little monster, so you're gonna tame it, pumpkin."
Asher felt his pulse stutter, his eyes darting down to the heavy arousal pressing against the fabric of Zeke's pants. Heat pooled in his stomach, but he fought against the rush of temptation. He clenched his jaw and turned his gaze back to Zeke's face.
"I'm not going to be used," he murmured, voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "I'm not a damn slut, Zeke."
Something flickered in Ezekiel's eyes—something primal, something amused. Before Asher could move away, Zeke pulled him in with a sharp tug, their bodies pressed together so tightly that Asher felt every hard inch of him.
Zeke leaned in, his breath hot against Asher's ear as he whispered, "You don't want to suck Daddy? Then why don't you open up instead?" His tone was teasing, possessive, sending shivers down Asher's spine.
Asher barely had time to respond before Zeke captured his lips in a searing kiss. The contact was electric, a collision of heat and hunger that left Asher breathless. Zeke's lips were firm and demanding, moving against his with a dominance that made his knees weak.
Asher gasped into the kiss, and Zeke took full advantage, deepening it instantly. His tongue slipped past parted lips, exploring, claiming, tasting. The kiss was a perfect balance of control and raw need, a slow burn that built into something utterly consuming.
Zeke's hands slid up Asher's back, fingers digging into his skin, pressing him closer, as if he wanted to merge them into one. Asher's hands instinctively found their way into Zeke's tousled hair, gripping tight as he tilted his head, allowing the kiss to deepen further. Their tongues met in a slick, sensual dance, each movement more intoxicating than the last.
A low groan rumbled in Zeke's throat as he shifted, pushing Asher down against the bed. He followed, never breaking the kiss, never allowing Asher a moment to breathe. His body pressed against Asher's, solid and burning hot, pinning him beneath his weight.
The heat between them was unbearable, an unrelenting fire consuming every inch of Asher's resolve. Zeke kissed like he was trying to unravel him, like he was trying to make Asher forget every single reason he had to resist.
Zeke's lips left his mouth, trailing a slow, torturous path down his jaw. He nipped at the sensitive skin there, eliciting a sharp gasp from Asher. Then, lower—his lips ghosted over Asher's throat, pressing lingering, open-mouthed kisses against his pulse point.
Asher's head tilted back instinctively, offering more, his body betraying him even as his mind screamed to stop. But when Zeke's teeth scraped against the sensitive skin just beneath his ear, a shudder wracked through him, his breath escaping in a shaky exhale.
Zeke hummed in satisfaction. "See?" he murmured against Asher's skin, his voice thick with desire. "You're already falling apart for me."
Asher's fingers dug into Zeke's shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, but he refused to give in so easily. "Cocky bastard," he managed, his voice breathless, but defiant.
Zeke chuckled, the sound dark and sultry, sending another wave of heat through Asher. "You love it," he teased, before capturing his lips once more in a kiss that was nothing short of devastating.
This time, the kiss was slow—deep, languid, and consuming. Zeke took his time, tasting Asher like he had all the time in the world, his lips molding against his with a tenderness that contradicted the heat between them. His tongue traced along the seam of Asher's lips, coaxing them open again, exploring every inch with unhurried precision.
Asher whimpered against his mouth, his resistance crumbling, his body melting into the touch, into the kiss. He hated how easily Zeke unraveled him, how effortlessly he took control. But God, did he crave it.
Zeke's lips trailed lower again, down the column of Asher's throat, across his collarbone, until he reached his half-bare chest. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along the defined lines, his tongue flicking over sensitive skin, making Asher's breath hitch.
Asher arched into the touch, his body responding before his mind could catch up. He felt the heat of Zeke's breath against his skin, the slow drag of his lips, the teasing flick of his tongue over a hardened peak. A strangled moan escaped him before he could stop it, and Zeke smirked against his skin.
"That's it," Zeke murmured, his voice a seductive whisper. "Let me hear you."
Asher clenched his fists against the sheets, his breathing uneven, his resolve shattered beyond repair. Zeke knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to drive him insane with nothing but his lips, his tongue, his hands roaming with just enough restraint to keep Asher on edge.
He kissed his way back up, reclaiming Asher's lips with a fierce, all-consuming hunger. Their bodies molded together, every inch of contact igniting something primal between them. The kiss deepened once more, raw and desperate, their breaths mingling, their tongues tangling in a dance of fire and desire.
Asher's world tilted, his senses overwhelmed, his body a live wire beneath Zeke's touch. He was drowning in him, lost in the taste, the scent, the feel of him.
And God help him—he never wanted to be found.