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“You can be rough with me.”
“Ah, you don’t want that,” the Jackal breathes against Rasmus’ lips, waving it off; a little playful, hopefully final. They’ve made it to the bed in a tangle of limbs and half-discarded clothes and Rasmus pulls the Jackal down on top of him, smiling, eager, breathing fast with excitement. The Jackal needs to concentrate now, to focus on the sensations of skin against skin to keep his body in the moment. Kissing feels good, hands on his chest feel good, he can use those. This is only going to work if he can get himself hard.
“I can feel you holding back. It’s okay, I can take it.”
No, you can’t.
“Shh.” the Jackal places his fingers over Rasmus’ lips, and Rasmus just smiles, flicking his tongue out in a tease. The Jackal smiles back, chuckling, because that’s what Rasmus wants to see.
He lets his touch soften until he’s stroking Rasmus’ lips with his thumb, gaze soft, and he cups his cheek, leaning down for a kiss. As he does Rasmus takes his wrist, guiding his hand lower, bringing it to rest on his throat.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” the Jackal whispers. Rasmus thinks it’s exciting, that it’s a game, but it’s the wrong game. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to bring out.
“I know. But remember what I said, you’re a little dangerous?” Rasmus squirms under him, grinning, and the Jackal can feel how hard he is. How eager this makes him. “It’s fun. I can take it,” he repeats.
Dangerous is a dangerous way to be remembered. The Jackal can feel Rasmus’ pulse under his fingertips, blood rushing through his arteries, the cartilage of his Adam’s apple bobbing under his palm. Fragile tissues, willingly given to his grip. I hope I don’t have to kill you, Rasmus.
“All right. All right, yeah.” The Jackal nods, and Rasmus beams.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, come here.”
The Jackal takes Rasmus by the hips and pulls him down the bed until they’re tight together, bodies fitting just right. Rasmus spreads his legs and the Jackal pushes his thighs back, opening him up, watching as Rasmus arches his back. When he places his hand back on his throat it sends a full body shiver through Rasmus, and that’s good, that’s exactly the state the Jackal wants him in. He just has to solve his own piece of it. He leans in for a kiss again before Rasmus has a chance to notice he’s only half hard.
The kiss helps, and Rasmus’ hands stroking his sides helps, but it’s not enough to get him there. He needs this to work, he needs to make it happen.
He knows how.
The Jackal closes his eyes, and he sees Nuria. Not how he saw her last, drawn tight with worry and suspicion, but his Nuria - her smile, her laugh, the way she raises an eyebrow when she’s teasing him. Her scent, her breath - her shampoo smells like home. Soon, he’ll be home. He can be Charles again.
He rolls his hips and slides inside Rasmus’ waiting body.
Rasmus moans, melting under him as his cock pushes in deep, opening him up and taking him apart.
“Peter… ah, fuck, Peter…”
The Jackal tightens his hand, just a little, and Rasmus’ hole pulses. It makes the Jackal grunt, and Rasmus likes that too; his hips roll in time with the Jackal's thrusts, pushing back to take him deeper, his whole body begging for more. With his free hand the Jackal reaches down between them, taking Rasmus’ cock in hand to stroke him, and Rasmus’ eyes fall closed.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” the Jackal grunts, and it’s not even a lie. Rasmus is squeezing around him, he’s hot and soft inside, and he’s a pliant mess on the Jackal's cock. He makes it as good for Rasmus as he can; stroking him from base to tip, rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, working his thrusts until it makes Rasmus tremble.
“More,” Rasmus gasps, his hand finding the Jackal's wrist again where his grip has slackened around his neck. “I trust you, Peter.”
Rasmus is easy, Rasmus is telling him exactly how to use and seduce him, and for some stupid fucking reason the Jackal doesn’t want to do it.
But it’s a game, a dance, and the Jackal can see each step leading to the end. It would just be easier if Rasmus didn’t keep giving him that soft, happy smile.
He tightens his grip, carefully, fingertips over his arteries. It’s barely enough to restrict the bloodflow, just a hint of a threat to let Rasmus feel it, and that’s all it takes. Rasmus’ cock jumps in his hand and he comes over the Jackal's fist, panting and gasping with pleasure. The Jackal grinds his cock in deep, fucking him through it, and leans down to place a messy kiss on his open, gasping mouth. “That’s it, come for me,” he whispers, cementing himself in Rasmus’ pleasure.
Slowly, gently, the Jackal releases his throat.
Rasmus looks up at him, pupils blown wide, and takes the Jackal's face in his hands to pull him down for another kiss.
“Now you,” Rasmus says against his lips, grinning. The Jackal sits up as Rasmus slides out from underneath him, switching their positions and crawling between the Jackal's thighs. He’s eager to please, ducking his head down and taking the head of the Jackal's cock in his mouth. The Jackal moans - because Rasmus expects him too, but also because Rasmus is good at this. He flicks his tongue over the Jackal's slit, mouths over his glans, and his lips are soft and so fucking wet. The Jackal's hips roll forward and Rasmus takes him deeper easily.
The Jackal's hand finds Rasmus’ head, fingers combing through his curly hair, seeking purchase. He holds on loosely, letting Rasmus move at his own pace, and watches his head bob up and down.
If the Jackal kills him tonight he won’t have to see that smile again. He won’t have to keep putting on this show. He can take Rasmus’ keycard for access to the Kontserdisaal and stop being Peter.
He’d lose a source of information. If Rasmus doesn’t show up for work someone could ask questions.
No one would ever see that smile again.
Rasmus takes him to the root and gulps, his throat constricting and squeezing around the full length of the Jackal's cock for long moments until finally he pulls back far enough to breathe, and his eyes flick up to the Jackal's face. Fuck it all, he smiles with his eyes, too.
“Bloody hell, Rasmus,” the Jackal rasps, breathless with sensation.
That makes Rasmus’ eyes glint and he dives in again, bobbing along his length and taking him to the base each time. There’s never a hint of teeth, the suction is perfect, and the Jackal does his best to ignore Rasmus’ beard rubbing against his inner thighs and let the sensation build in his cock.
He comes, hips stuttering, while Rasmus swallows around his cock.
“You taste good,” Rasmus says, playful, his tongue darting across his lips.
The Jackal laughs, panting, and shakes his head in appreciation. “You feel good, Rasmus, you feel so fucking good.”
“Careful,” Rasmus says, crawling up the bed to blanket the Jackal's body in his own. “Seeing you like this will make me hard again.”
Really? Again?
The night is mostly gone by the time the Jackal fucks Rasmus to exhaustion. He’s a happy, sleepy heap on the bed, drifting off beside him, warm and smelling like sex. The Jackal lays along side him, pressing his chest to Rasmus’ back, and drapes an arm over his side, idling tracing his thumb along his collar bone. He only has a few hours to sleep, but everything will be easier with Rasmus’ cooperation. This is the best plan he has. Pretending it’s Nuria in his arms won’t help.
“Mmm. It’s better than a hotel, yeah?” Rasmus mumbles, pressing back against him.
“Yeah, better company.”
“Better company, better service.”
The Jackal doesn’t reply, he just keeps stroking Rasmus’ chest while he feels his breathing grow even and slow. The real service will come tomorrow, and Rasmus won’t know it’s happening.
On the edge of sleep his hand drifts, unbidden, back to Rasmus’ throat.
Don’t make me kill you.