I Called It a Drunk Mistake, So the Mob Boss Made It Permanent novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Mouth

Linus smashes a glass over the stolen song and Leandros takes him to bed and goes down on him, saying mine for the first time.

The glass hit the white wall and exploded.

Linus stood in the middle of the penthouse living room with his hand dripping red onto the stone floor.

On the speaker, Griffin sang the bridge Linus had written on his knees, and every note was right.

He had cut his palm on the broken stem and had not felt it.

"Turn it off," he said.

Nobody was there to hear him.

Quincy was on shift at the hospital, and Manolis had gone to buy dinner.

Then the music cut out in the middle of a word.

Leandros stood at the speaker with a remote in his hand, in shirtsleeves, with the sleeves pushed to his elbows.

He put the remote down and crossed the room.

"Let me see."

"It's nothing," Linus said.

"Linus."

Linus held out his hand, and Leandros turned it palm up under the lamp.

The cut ran across the heel of the palm, shallow and long.

Leandros said nothing.

He walked Linus into the bedroom with a hand around his wrist, sat him on the edge of the bed, and went into the bathroom for a towel.

He came back, knelt on the floor between Linus's knees, and wrapped the towel around the cut.

The beads hung from his belt loop, swinging.

"Hold it up."

"It's a scratch," Linus said.

"Hold it up."

Linus held it up.

Leandros turned the towel back and looked at the cut for a moment, and then he lowered his mouth to the heel of Linus's hand and kissed the skin beside it.

Linus stopped breathing.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking for glass," Leandros said.

"With your mouth?"

"With my mouth," Leandros said, and kissed the inside of his wrist.

Linus's whole body went tight and warm, and he said, "That's not checking."

"No."

Leandros looked up at him.

His eyes in the lamplight were nearly black.

"Tell me to stop," he said.

"You say that a lot."

"And you never do."

"I know," Linus said, and heard how his own voice sounded. "That's the problem."

Leandros kissed his palm, and then his mouth.

It was nothing like the morning.

It was slow and open and certain, with a hand cupping the back of Linus's head, and the taste of him was dark coffee and something warmer under it.

Linus kissed back with a sound he didn't know he could make.

He got his good hand into Leandros's shirt and pulled.

Buttons skittered across the floor.

"I liked that shirt," Leandros said, against his jaw.

"Then you shouldn't have worn it."

He felt Leandros smile against his skin.

They went down together on the bed, Linus on his back with his bandaged hand held up out of the way.

Leandros's weight settled over him, broad and heavy, and the heat of him came through two layers of cloth.

Linus ran his good hand down the long muscles of Leandros's back, over the ridge of a scar below the ribs, and felt the man shudder.

"Take your shirt off," Leandros said.

"You first."

"You already took mine."

"Then take mine," Linus said, and Leandros did.

The black shirt went over his head and onto the floor.

Leandros looked at him, from the collarbone to the waist, for a long silent moment.

"You really have no idea," he said, almost to himself.

"No idea of what?"

"What you look like."

Linus flushed all the way down his chest.

People had been telling him his whole life that he was beautiful, and he had hated it, because it was something they did to him.

This was different.

This was a man looking at him with hunger and a kind of dazed fury, and Linus wanted to be looked at.

"Then show me," he said.

Leandros put his mouth to his throat.

He kissed down the line of Linus's collarbone, then lower, over the ribs, slowly, and then the flat of his stomach.

His tongue found the hollow of Linus's hip.

Linus's back came off the bed.

"Fuck."

"Soon."

"Leandros..." Linus said.

"Not yet. Say it again."

"What?"

"My name," Leandros said.

"Leandros," Linus said, "please."

It was the first time Linus had said it, and Leandros went very still against his stomach.

Then he undid the jeans in one pull and took them off along with everything underneath.

Linus lay naked on the white sheets with his cock hard and flushed against his belly, and he could not meet the man's eyes.

"Look at me," Leandros said.

He looked.

Leandros's gaze was fixed on him with something close to awe.

Then he lowered his head and took Linus into his mouth.

Heat closed around him, wet and tight.

Linus cried out and grabbed the sheet with his good hand.

Leandros's mouth moved slowly down his length, then back up, with his tongue pressed flat, and Linus felt the sweep of it along every nerve.

He lifted his hips, and a big hand pressed them down again.

"Stay," Leandros said, against him. "Let me."

"I can't."

"You can."

He took Linus deeper, to the back of his throat, and swallowed.

Linus made a sound he would be ashamed of for a week.

His hand shot to Leandros's hair, short and thick under his fingers, and held on.

Leandros hummed.

The vibration went through Linus's whole body and out through the soles of his feet.

"Oh, God. Oh, you're..."

Leandros lifted his head, wet-mouthed, with a look so sure that Linus's breath stuttered.

"What am I?"

"Good," Linus said. "You're so good at it."

"Practice."

"Shut up."

"I've had a lot of practice," Leandros said. "On the wrong people."

Before Linus could answer, he lowered his head again and sucked him down, hard.

Linus's thighs shook.

A finger traced the base of his cock and slid lower, behind his balls, pressing a slow circle.

"Not tonight," Leandros said. "Just that. Just so you know."

"Know what?"

"What I'm going to do to you."

Linus made a high broken noise.

The pressure built low in his belly and climbed, and he fought it, because he didn't want it to end.

"Don't sing in my ear," he gasped, for no reason at all.

He didn't know why he said it.

His voice was going, and he could not stop humming under his breath, a melody without a name, climbing with the pressure.

Leandros's mouth stopped.

"What?"

"If we do this again. Don't ask me to sing. Not in your ear, not here. I won't," Linus said.

"Why?"

"Because it's mine," Linus said. "It's the only thing nobody has taken."

Leandros looked up the long line of his body, and his face softened for one moment, and then went dark again.

"Done," he said.

He went down once more, and this time he did not slow.

Linus's hand tightened in his hair.

"I'm going to..."

"Do it," Leandros said.

"Leandros, I'm..."

"Mine," Leandros said, and swallowed him to the root.

Linus came with a shout that hit the glass wall.

He came for so long that his vision went white, and Leandros held him through all of it, drinking him down with a low sound.

When it was over, he kissed the inside of Linus's thigh and rested his cheek on it.

Linus lay with his chest heaving.

The sheets were damp under him.

He was dimly aware of the harbor lights going on and off across the ceiling.

"Come here," he said finally.

"Hm?"

"Come up here."

Leandros climbed up the bed, and Linus pushed him onto his back.

He sat astride his hips and looked down at him.

The man was still in his trousers, hard against Linus's thigh, with his chest heaving and his eyes half-closed.

"You didn't," Linus said.

"I told you. I'm in no hurry."

"I'm in a hurry."

He slid down the bed and undid Leandros's belt with clumsy fingers.

The beads fell onto the sheet.

Leandros watched him and did not move.

"You've never done this," he said.

"No."

"You don't have to."

"I want to," Linus said, "and you're going to shut up and let me."

He pulled the trousers down and took Leandros's cock in his good hand.

It was thick and heavy and darker at the head, and it twitched in his palm.

Linus licked once up the underside, and heard the man's breath crack.

He did it again, and then took the head into his mouth, awkward and eager, with a lot of tongue.

A hand came down to the back of his head and went still.

"Slowly," Leandros said, and his voice was rough. "You've got time."

Linus took him deeper, with a tight careful suck, and listened to the sounds above him.

The beads lay on the sheet by his elbow, and for the first time since that morning he did not hear them click.

Leandros's hips rolled once, helplessly, and stopped.

"Sorry," he said.

"Don't be."

Linus pulled off, wiped his mouth, and looked up with a grin that felt dangerous.

"Do that again."

Leandros stared at him.

Then he said something low in Greek, and thrust up into his mouth, once, twice, and the hand in Linus's hair clenched.

"Linus. I'm..."

Linus didn't move.

Leandros came with a groan that shook the bed, hot on Linus's tongue, and Linus swallowed because he wanted to.

It tasted salty and strange.

It was the best thing that had happened to him in two years.

He crawled up the bed and lay on his side next to him, and neither of them spoke.

After a while Leandros reached out, with a hand that was not quite steady, and wound the beads once around Linus's wrist.

"Mine," he said, almost too quiet to hear.

Linus didn't answer.

He was already half asleep, with the amber cool against his pulse.

Somewhere in the dark Leandros spoke again.

"Tuesday there's a dinner," he said, with his eyes closed. "You're coming. Wear nothing under the suit."

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