Page 181 of Should Our Stars Collide

He makes them his first stop, sliding down Kieran’s body until he can run his tongue over the right one. It instantly stiffens in his mouth while Kieran gasps for breath. One of his hands flies to Ash’s hair, the other grabs his bicep. Yeah, he likes this alright.

Filing the info away, Ash carries on, sucking on the nipple until it’s red and sore-looking, then glances up to see Kieran’s face. He’s already watching him, lips parted and puffy from being chewed on, a sheen of sweat starting to break out across his skin. Jesus, they’ve barely started and he’s so gone already.

Wanting to see more of this side of Kieran, Ash moves onto the other nipple, giving it the same, thorough treatment. Kieran seems to be more sensitive on this side, or maybe he’s becoming more sensitized overall, small whimpers escaping his lips.

“You…are…such a fucking tease,” Kieran manages between gasps, his hand flexing in Ash’s hair. “I mean, I knew—ah—I knew you’d be, but still…”

“You knew, huh?” Pressing up onto his hands, Ash shifts until they’re face to face. “Does that mean you’ve been imagining this a lot?”

Kieran’s gaze becomes unfocused, but not with pleasure. More like he’s remembering something. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Uh-huh.” Ash kisses behind his ear before giving the shell a playful bite. “What did I do? When you imagined this.”

“It—ah—changes. M-most of the time you just…kiss me a lot. Hold me.” He huffs a small laugh. “Then bring up some corny dirty talk.”

It’s uncanny how close Kieran’s imagination comes to the real thing. Because everything he said? All of that has been on Ash’s to-do-asap list. Plus, kissing Kieran is his new favorite thing to do, so there will bea lotof that.

“Seems like I have much to live up to.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it.”

They share a grin, and the next time Ash moves, there’s a rustling sound, like soft plastic. He reaches towards it, hidden under the blanket, and pulls out a candy bar wrapper. Tugging the blanket aside reveals a couple more of those, and an empty chips packet.

He turns a pointed look at Kieran, who dips his gaze like a kid who…well, got caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Or candy jar.

“Don’t judge me. I’ve been depressed. It’s your fault. Just be glad it’s not drugs.”

Ash’s expression instantly smooths out. He’ll deliver a lecture on processed foods later.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses Kieran’s forehead, his nose, his chin. “I was trying not to hurt you, but I did anyway.”

Kieran blinks several times in quick succession. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Ash loves and hates in equal measure how easily Kieran forgives him. Like, okay, good for him, but he really should have to grovel more. He’ll just have to make it up to Kieran some other way.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

Wetness gathering in his eyes, Kieran nods and pulls Ash into a kiss. His lips tremble, barely move, but he clings on like he still hasn’t processed this is happening. That it’s real.

Well, that’s fine. Ash can make it very real very quickly.

He starts easy, just grinding against Kieran so he can feel how much Ash wants him, has wanted him since they first met.

Kieran throws his head back, exposing the beautiful, long column of his neck. From this close, Ash can see his pulse thrumming under his pale skin, strong and erratic, and he wastes no time sucking a bruise right there. It hits him too late that Kieran might not appreciate any visible ‘evidence’. Before he gets a chance to double-check, rather redundantly, Kieran chokes out a breathy, “M-more.”

“More?” Ash is happy to oblige, he just needs the specifics, otherwise he’ll take some liberties, and Kieran might not be ready for that.

“Leave more marks. I want to know I haven’t made this up when I look in the mirror. I want to know I’m yours.”

Jesus, this man will be his undoing. But what’s new?

He dips his head, mouth finding the edge of Kieran’s jaw, the soft spot beneath his ear. The skin is warm, pulse racing under his lips. He sucks, slow at first, then deeper, until Kieran’s breath catches in a broken sound that only spurs him on.

Ash trails lower, tracing heat across Kieran’s throat, pausing to taste the hollow just above his collarbone. His hands stay firm on Kieran’s hips, holding him. It’s no small feat—Kieran is a squirmer, as Ash should’ve foreseen. So easy to rile up and, despite appearances, even easier to please. Or maybe it’s just Ash he’s so easy with?

By the time he pulls back, Kieran’s chest and neck are a constellation of small bruises and teeth marks, messy, beautiful. Claimed. Even though it looks like the claim has been staked by a wild animal.

Ash studies his work, thumb brushing lightly over one of the marks. “That enough?”