Niam Smut

» He Is Mine, And I Am His «

(Liam's P.O.V.)

I moved closer to kneel between his legs. "I love you," I whispered, wiping his tear streaked face with my thumbs. When he looked at me, his eyes so full of love and joy, a sense of fulfillment settled over me, but it was different. Stronger than I'd ever felt before. He gripped my shirt and pulled me to him, his lips crashing into mine.

"I love you, too," he said breathlessly between kisses. "I love you more than I ever thought possible."

I laughed through wet eyes as he pressed kisses along my face, his hands moving to fist in my hair.

The world around us disappeared as his lips found mine again. Voices faded into the background, the music floating around us a distant hum. My senses focused on the man in my arms, his silky texture of his hair as it slipped through my fingers, the way he tasted, the sounds he made.

"Take me back to the hotel," he murmured, his fingers tracing the shape of my jaw. I nodded, jumping up and tossing a few bills to the table before taking his hand to lead him out the door.

We practically ran the distance to our hotel as the snow fell around us, stopping several times as one of us pulled the other into a fevered kiss, promises of what was to come spoken in breathy whispers.

By the time we entered the elevator, I was ready to tear the clothes from his body, but I kept my patience. When the doors opened, I backed him down the hall, uncaring of who would see and loving that I no longer needed to. I fumbled with the key card as we reached our room, the door closed for only seconds before he pressed my body roughly against it.

"I need you," he panted, his fingers moving frantically to unfasten my jacket, his lips moving in a path down my neck.

"Here?" I asked, his coat already in a pile at his feet, his shirt practically ripped off and tossed to the chair next to us.

"Please," he pleaded. My shirt soon followed his and I shuddered as the cool wood of the door pressed against my back. The sound of my belt and zipper followed by the rustle of denim was loud in the silent room, but I had no time to focus as he pushed the jeans quickly down my hips. We both kicked our shoes off hastily and I smiled at the way I now towered above him.

I turned us, his back now against the door, my hands traveling down his legs. I groaned as I felt his stockings, my fingers tracing the lines of what I knew was the black garter belt he'd let me buy for him only days before.

I continued to explore what lay hidden from my view, pausing as I reached something unexpected.

"Fuck, baby. Is this what I think it is?" I asked, the texture of delicate lace smooth under my fingertips.

He nodded in reply and my head fell to his shoulder, remembering the way the panties had looked on the hanger. My breath had caught as he'd handed them to me, imagining how he'd look from behind, the tiny scrap of black material held together by only a small row of satin buttons down the back.

I pushed into him, pressing my cock against the dampened lace.

"Fuck," he groaned as his hand moved to twist in my hair. "Take me like you used to."

His simple words sparked something raw and primal inside my chest.

"You mean how I couldn't breathe until I was inside you?" I asked, groaning as his tongue swept across my lower lip, "Yeah," he answered shakily.

My hands moved to his waist, almost fumbling with the delicate zipper of his jeans, the heavy material between us suddenly in the way. He gasped as I pushed it down his hips to land in a puddle around his feet.