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Damian’s, just in case he decided to ignore Conrad and move them anyway.
    Glancing up, Conrad met Damian’s startled gaze with a small smile. “Let’s see how well you do with no hands.” He ran his tongue along the underside of Damian’s cock then licked his own lips. “Fuck my mouth.”
    Damian’s eyes shimmered with sudden heat and yet he hesitated, his expression doubtful. Conrad arched an eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at Damian’s erection. “That is, unless you’re content to stay in this condition.” Another stroke of the tongue up his length. Another swipe across the weeping crown. “I confess I’m quite content with the sight of you just as you are. Don’t feel you need move on my account.”
    Damian’s mouth tightened as he took up the challenge and contracted his hips, thrusting upward into Conrad’s waiting mouth.
    “Yes.” Conrad smiled up at him, purring his approval when Damian pulled out. “That was much better. Do it again. Deeper this time. Feed me all of it.”
    Shudders wracked Damian’s body. Whimpers spilled from his lips as he complied, rocking upward again and again—fast, increasingly erratic strokes that ended when he gave a garbled cry and stiffened suddenly, pumping his release down Conrad’s throat.
    Afterwards, while Damian slumped on the couch and gasped for breath, Conrad rose to his feet and fastened his pants. One look at the weariness on Damian’s face, in the set of his shoulders, and Conrad knew he would not be going anywhere under his own power—not for a little while yet. So he lifted him into his arms, cradling him as though he were a child, and carried him into the bedroom.
    Conrad deposited Damian on the bed. Then he hurriedly removed his own clothes and joined him there. He pulled the cool sheets up around them both, taking Damian into his arms and holding him close. By rights, he should be feeling peaceful right now, blissfully content. He wasn’t. Damian had pushed him to the edge of his control again tonight. That was not a comfortable place to have been. “Don’t try that again,” he warned, adding, when Damian gazed questioningly at him, “You push me too far. How many times must I say it?”
    Damian’s lips curved upwards in a sleepy smile. “It was worth it though, wasn’t it?”
    “Was it? I’m not so sure.” Good as it had been, it was also touch and go. And, in any case, nothing was worth the risk of hurting Damian, of possibly losing him. But the look on Damian’s face reminded Conrad there was more than one way to be hurt. He sighed wearily. “All I meant was that I have no wish to test my control at this stage of my recovery. I don’t wish to injure you. You cannot possibly object to that!”
    “Not if you put it that way, I suppose.”
    “What other way is there to put it? And, by the way, in case I have not said so before, I am very pleased you’ve agreed to share my rooms, you know.”
    “Are you? Even though you’re still so concerned about your condition that all you can think about—even at a time like this—is the possibility you might end up hurting me?”
    “It’s hardly all I can think about, my dear, but yes. Even so.”
    “All or part, it makes no difference. It’s obviously enough of a concern that you must mention it repeatedly,” Damian pointed out. “And, as such, I wonder how it was that you came to give in so readily to Georgia’s demands. She must have hidden powers of persuasion I’ve yet to notice. Or is she a weakness of yours as well?”
    Conrad frowned. There was definitely a peevish note to Damian’s tone. It rasped against his temper, threatening to further unsettle his mood. “She’s nowhere in your league, if it makes you feel any better, neither as a weakness nor as a source of irritation. Georgia would never dare make such demands of me. Nor would anyone else, for that matter. Only you.” And now perhaps Marc. That was not a pleasant realization either. Conrad’s mouth twisted