Siren Song - Chapter Five
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Jon crossed the small expanse of parquet floor in three deliberate strides, the weight of his decision settling over him like a mantle he no longer wanted to shrug off. His fingers found the edges of his open flannel shirt and peeled it away, letting it fall forgotten to the gilded rug. The white undershirt followed in one smooth motion, tugged over his head and tossed aside, baring the broad, sculpted planes of his torso. He toed off his boots with two quick kicks, the heavy thuds muffled by the plush bedding as he climbed onto the mattress on his knees, moving toward Siren like a supplicant drawn inexorably to an altar.
Siren watched him approach, sprawled languid against the mountain of snow-white pillows, the silk robe barely clinging to his narrow hips. The smile that bloomed across his lips was radiant, victorious, was pure sunlight breaking through storm clouds, utterly certain of its triumph. He had never doubted for a second that Jon would come to him.
“Damn, look at you, Superman,” Siren breathed, reverently, silver eyes raking slow and hungry over Jon’s bare torso in all its glory. “Look at those pecs.”
“Thanks,” Jon muttered, a flush burning hot up his neck and across his cheeks, embarrassment twisting tight with the ache throbbing in his chest as he crawled closer on his knees, worn denim rasping softly against the delicate lace-trimmed linens.
To hide the sudden, overwhelming shyness flooding him, he reached for one of Siren’s feet, small and delicate, impossibly elegant in the cradle of his large, callused hand, and lifted it gently to his lips. The skin was warm, silk-smooth, faintly scented with jasmine and the lingering trace of massage oil. Jon pressed a reverent kiss to the arch, lingering there a breathless second, letting the act steady him even as it unraveled him further.
“I’ve been working out lately…” he said, eyes fixed on the pale foot in his grasp like it was something sacred, “…but I’m an ugly troll compared to you.”
He kissed it again, his lips brushing the delicate bones, then trailed higher, planting another slow, worshipful kiss on Siren’s shin, the lean muscle warm beneath cool skin. Each press of his mouth felt like surrender made flesh, like confession.
“You’re damn gorgeous,” Jon whispered against the smooth curve of calf, breath hitching as he dared a glance upward, past the parted silk robe, past the shadowed promise higher up, straight into those molten silver eyes watching him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life.”
Jon lowered himself slowly, reverently, his broad shoulders dipping as he pressed another tender kiss to the side of Siren’s shin. He trailed higher, planting one more soft kiss at the start of Siren’s thigh, the muscle firm yet delicate beneath his mouth. Then, unable to resist, he grazed the flawless skin with his teeth. Just a light nibble, barely pressure, a teasing scrape that sent visible shivers racing across Siren’s body like ripples on moonlit water. Gooseflesh bloomed in the wake, pale skin prickling under the chandelier’s golden glow, and Jon felt a dark thrill surge through him at the sight.
He kissed again, higher now, dangerously close to the shadowed heat of Siren’s crotch. This time, a low, involuntary moan escaped Siren’s plush lips, raw and needy, his back arching off the pillows in a graceful, helpless bow. The silk robe slipped further open with the motion, baring more of that perfect, trembling expanse, jasmine blooming thicker in the air as if Siren’s pleasure itself fed the scent.
Jon’s breath came ragged against the skin, his own body thrumming with heat, jeans painfully tight, heart slamming against his ribs as he watched Siren unravel beneath the simplest touch, waiting for Jon to take more.
“You think I’m pretty?” Siren asked, the words catching slightly in his throat, voice huskier now, threaded with a tremor that hadn’t been there before.
“So goddamned pretty,” Jon confirmed, lips brushing the same sensitive spot on Siren’s inner thigh as he spoke. He kissed it again, drawing another soft, helpless moan from Siren’s parted lips.
“Why don’t you take this robe off me, then?” Siren suggested, offering himself up like a gift Jon had already unwrapped in his mind a thousand times.
Jon reached for the silken ties that held the robe closed, fingers trembling just slightly as if he were handling some ancient, fragile relic unearthed from a forgotten tomb. He tugged the knot loose with deliberate slowness, drawing out the moment, breath held in his chest.
The robe spilled open like liquid moonlight, sliding from Siren’s shoulders and pooling in soft folds around his hips and thighs, baring him completely to the chandelier’s golden glow.
Jon’s breath caught hard, a sharp inhale that bordered on a gasp. “Damn… look at you,” he whispered, voice rough with awe, blue eyes wide and unblinking as they drank in the vision sprawled across the lavish bed.
Siren was perfection made flesh. Every inch of him was flawless, as if sculpted by an artist who’d never known restraint. His nipple stood already rigid with arousal, begging for touch. Lower, his cock lay hard against the flat plane of his stomach, much smaller than Jon’s own but beautifully proportioned to his frame, flushed deep rose and glistening at the tip with a bead of clear precum that caught the light like a jewel.
Jon couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe steadily. His gaze traced every line: the subtle dip of waist, the way Siren’s thighs parted just enough to offer everything without shame. Damn, he was truly perfect, a living temptation Jon had never had any hope of resisting. Jon’s hands, large, warm, and roughened from years of gripping steel beams and punching aliens, settled gently on Siren’s thighs, thumbs brushing slow arcs over the smooth, pale skin just above the knee. The muscle there was lean and firm, trembling faintly under his touch, and Jon felt the shiver travel straight up his own arms like a current. Siren’s smaller, cooler hands came down to cover his almost immediately, fingers sliding between Jon’s, pressing lightly as if to anchor him, to say stay, to say take. Their eyes met for one suspended second, blue locked on silver, want mirrored back and forth, no words needed, no excuses left, and then Jon moved. He climbed forward on his knees, the mattress dipping under his weight, broad shoulders crowding the space as he closed the distance.
Jon kissed him.
It wasn’t tentative. It was deep from the first press, hungry, almost desperate, hours of obsession and guilt and aching need poured into the slide of lips, the tilt of heads. Siren opened for him instantly, a needy sound vibrating in his throat as Jon’s tongue swept in, claiming, tasting jasmine and heat and something sweeter underneath. Siren’s fingers tightened over Jon’s hands, then slid up his forearms, nails grazing lightly over sun-bronzed skin as he pulled Jon closer, arching up off the pillows to meet him halfway.
Jon groaned into the kiss, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as Siren melted beneath him, plush lips surrendering, tongue sliding slick and eager against his own. The taste of him was intoxicating, jasmine and heat and something darker, pulling Jon deeper until the world blurred to nothing but this.
Siren broke the kiss with a soft, breathless gasp, and with deliberate grace, he slid lower down the bed, inking fully into the mountain of pillows and lace-trimmed linens, raven hair fanning wild across white silk. The motion made him look suddenly smaller, almost fragile beneath Jon’s broader frame: pale, lithe limbs sprawled open, narrow waist and delicate ribs rising and falling fast, the flawless ivory of his skin glowing warm against the opulent sheets. Jon loomed over him, powerful, shoulders and chest casting a shadow that swallowed Siren whole, the sheer size difference stark and dizzying.
Jon didn’t hesitate. He planted himself between Siren’s parted thighs, knees sinking into the mattress on either side, the worn denim of his jeans rasping against smooth skin as he settled into the cradle of Siren’s hips. Siren’s legs moved instantly, instinctively and wrapped tight around Jon’s waist. The hold pulled Jon down closer, bodies aligning flush, Siren’s smaller frame arching up to meet him as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of space between them. Trapped in that hold, Jon felt the last pretense of control slip away entirely.
Jon began to shower Siren with small, reverent kisses, soft presses of lips along the column of his neck, lingering at the pulse point where jasmine-scented skin fluttered beneath his mouth. He trailed lower, tracing the delicate line of collarbone, nipping lightly at the pale shoulder until Siren’s breath hitched, a faint shiver rippling through the body pinned beneath his own.
The kisses grew hotter, more deliberate, as Jon mapped a slow, burning path down the smooth expanse of Siren’s chest. He paused at one rigid pink nipple, brushing it with his lips before closing over it gently, tongue flicking once, twice, drawing a sharp, needy gasp that made Siren’s back arch off the pillows. Jon moved on, mouth dragging wet and open across the taut plane of abs, tasting salt and oil and the faint sweetness that was uniquely Siren, until he reached the flushed, leaking length resting hard against Siren’s stomach.
He didn’t hesitate.
Jon took Siren’s cock into his mouth in one smooth, eager motion the smaller length completely, lips sealing around the base as his tongue pressed flat along the underside. The taste burst across his senses, salty precum, clean skin, the lingering trace of jasmine, and Jon groaned low around him, the vibration pulling a broken moan from Siren’s throat.
It was his first time. He’d never done this before, not with Tyler, not with Dick, not with anyone. Some distant, fading part of him knew the hesitation had always come from that Kansas-boy upbringing, the quiet voices of Smallville Sundays whispering that this was wrong, that good boys didn’t kneel and worship like this. But right then, with Siren writhing beneath him, highs clamped tight around his waist, fingers threading into his dark hair, those old hang-ups felt absolutely, laughably silly. All that mattered was the way Siren’s hips bucked helplessly, the way his own name spilled from those plush lips in a breathless, wrecked Jon! as Jon hollowed his cheeks and sucked, eager and unpracticed but utterly devoted, determined to make Siren fall apart beneath him. Jon wasn’t sure what he was doing, had no roadmap beyond instinct and the desperate need to please, but he must have been doing something right because Siren was coming undone beneath him in the most beautiful way.
Soft, breathy moans spilled from Siren’s plush lips at first, then grew higher, more desperate, sharp little gasps that cracked on the edges as Jon’s tongue swirled around the flushed head, lapping at the steady bead of precum, tracing the sensitive underside with clumsy but earnest devotion His pale thighs trembled around Jon’s shoulders, heels digging harder into the small of Jon’s back as if to anchor himself against the rising tide. Siren’s back arched off the pillows again, a graceful, helpless bow, chest heaving as those high, needy moans filled the gilded room, music more intoxicating than the forgotten Vivaldi still drifting faintly in the background. The taste, the heat, the way Siren’s perfect body writhed under his mouth; it was overwhelming, addictive. Jon took him deeper, eager to chase every sound, every tremor, determined to unravel the thief who had already unraveled him so completely.
Jon lifted a single finger and pressed it gently against the tight, fluttering entrance hidden between those perfect pale cheeks. He didn’t push inside, not yet, just circled the sensitive ring with slow, deliberate pressure, massaging the puckered muscle in small, firm strokes that made Siren’s entire body jolt. He looked up the length of that ivory frame to gauge the reaction, and the sight nearly undid him completely.
Siren was unraveling more with every passing second, plush lips parted on ragged breaths, silver eyes glazed and half-wild, raven hair a tangled halo against the pillows. His narrow chest heaved, pink nipples still peaked and wet from Jon’s earlier attention, and every circle of Jon’s finger drew another broken whimper from his throat, hips twitching helplessly upward as if chasing more.
It was too much. The open vulnerability on that usually smug, gorgeous face, the way Siren’s thighs stayed spread wide and welcoming, the way his smaller body seemed to beg without words.
Jon needed to kiss him. Needed it like air.
He surged upward in one fluid motion, broad shoulders flexing as he climbed back up Siren’s body, mouth crashing against those plush lips in a deep, claiming kiss. Siren opened for him instantly, moaning into Jon’s mouth with desperate, high-pitched need, tongue sliding slick and hungry as their lips sealed together. Jon swallowed every sound, kissing him harder, deeper, messy and breathless, while his finger never stopped its slow, relentless massage below, circling, pressing, teasing the tight ring until Siren’s legs clamped tighter around his waist and his slender fingers clawed at Jon’s bare back, urging him on.
Jon lifted his hand slowly, the finger still slick and shining from teasing Siren’s entrance, and brought it to those plush, parted lips. Siren’s silver eyes flicked up to meet his and without a word, as if their minds had fused into one breathless rhythm, he opened his mouth and swallowed Jon’s finger in a single, smooth motion.arm, wet heat closed around the digit instantly, sucking with deliberate enthusiasm. He didn’t break eye contact, his eyes locked on Jon’s, half-lidded and burning, lashes fluttering as he bobbed his head just enough to take the finger deeper, lips sealed tight, saliva gathering at the corners of his perfect mouth. Drool spilled in thin, glistening threads as he worked, slow and obscene, the soft, wet sounds of suction filling the hushed room like pure pornography made flesh.
Jon’s breath stuttered in his chest, a violent shiver racing down his spine and pooling hot low in his gut. Watching Siren like this was almost too much. A vivid, dizzying image flashed behind Jon’s eyes: those same plush lips wrapped around his cock instead, silver gaze still pinned on him, wet and eager and utterly ruined. The thought alone sent another hard shudder through him, his free hand tightening on Siren’s thigh, denim-clad hips rolling forward involuntarily against the cradle of Siren’s body.
Jon slowly withdrew his finger from the warm, wet haven of Siren’s mouth. A thin, glistening thread of saliva clung between them for a moment before snapping, and Siren’s tongue darted out to chase the taste. Jon trailed that same slick finger downward, over the trembling plane of Siren’s stomach, past the flushed length still hard and leaking against pale skin, until he found the tight ring of muscle again. He circled it once, twice, gentle, teasing, before applying steady pressure. The tip breached him slowly, deliberately, and Siren was impossibly tight: hot, velvet walls clenching around the intrusion like they were made to resist and yield in the same breath.
Siren’s forehead creased, a flicker of pain tightening his delicate features, breath catching sharp in his throat. Jon froze instantly, blue eyes searching silver with sudden concern, silent question clear: should I stop? Siren only shook his head, a small, stubborn motion against the pillows, lips parted on a shaky exhale. More. Jon pushed deeper until his finger was buried to the hilt inside that searing heat. Siren moaned loud, unrestrained, the sound spilling into the gilded room like a prayer. When Jon eased a second finger alongside the first, scissoring gently to open him further, Siren’s moan climbed higher, breaking on a desperate edge. His slender fingers clawed at Jon’s shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his body adjusted, fluttering and clenching around the stretch.
Jon began to move, deliberate twists of his wrist, fingers spreading and curling, stretching Siren open with patient devotion. Every subtle shift drew another gasp, another shiver, Siren’s pale skin flushing deeper rose from chest to cheeks. Jon watched every reaction, catalogued every hitch of breath, searching for that perfect angle… until his fingertips brushed a spot inside that made Siren’s entire body jolt, a sharp, keening cry tearing from his throat as his eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering.
There.
Jon lingered there, stroking firm and steady over that electric bundle of nerves, preparing him, stretching him wide and careful for something much, much bigger. Siren trembled beneath him, lost to pleasure, legs locked tight around Jon’s hips as if afraid he might stop. He wouldn’t. Not now. Not when Siren was finally, beautifully coming apart on his fingers alone Jon kept assaulting that perfect spot inside Siren with relentless strokes of his fingers, curling, pressing, rubbing firm circles until Siren became a moaning, surrendering mess beneath him. The body that had started the night so composed and teasing now trembled uncontrollably.
Siren’s moans climbed higher, broken and desperate, spilling from his lips in a litany of breathless sounds, Jon’s name fractured between them, silver eyes squeezed shut. His cock, hard and leaking steadily against his stomach, twitched with every targeted thrust of Jon’s fingers, precum smearing glossy trails across ivory skin.
Jon felt the tell-tale flutter deep inside, the tightening clench around his fingers, the way Siren’s hips began to roll in frantic, helpless little jerks. He was close, so close, and Jon wanted to give him even more. He surged upward, mouth crashing against Siren’s in a fierce, devouring kiss just as the first wave hit. Siren cried out into him, the sound vibrating straight into Jon’s chest as he swallowed every moan, every gasp, tongue stroking deep and possessive, claiming the pleasure as his own. Siren’s body seized, thighs clamping vise-tight around Jon’s waist, nails raking red lines down his back while he came untouched. Jon kissed him through it all, drinking down every shattered sound until Siren finally sagged boneless against the pillows, trembling and oversensitive, silver eyes fluttering open to stare up at Jon in dazed, wondering surrender.
Jon eased his fingers free with deliberate care, the slick heat of Siren’s body clinging for a final heartbeat before releasing him. He stayed propped above him on one elbow, chest heaving, blue eyes fixed on the devastatingly beautiful sight of Siren recovering from the orgasm. The thief lay utterly spent against the ruined pillows: raven hair damp at the temples, eyes half-lidded and glassy, lips swollen and parted on shallow, trembling breaths. His pale chest rose and fell in quick, uneven waves, skin flushed deep rose from collarbones to the sharp cut of his hips, streaks of his own release glistening across the flat plane of his stomach. His thighs still trembled faintly around Jon’s waist, legs loose now, as if the strength had been wrung out of them entirely.
Jon felt a slow, smug warmth bloom in his chest, quiet pride swelling beneath the ache of his own denied need. He had done this. He had reduced the confident, untouchable metahuman to this shivering, wrecked creature with nothing more than his fingers and focused devotion. The knowledge settled over him like a private victory, warm and heady. His cock throbbed painfully against the confines of his jeans and yet, even through the haze of want, a strange calm threaded through him. If this was it, if it ended right here, with nothing more than the memory of Siren coming undone beneath him, moaning his name, body clenching hot and desperate around his fingers, Jon realized, with quiet certainty, that it would be enough. The sight of Siren like this, shattered, sated, devastatingly beautiful in the aftermath, was worth every second of torment in his jeans, every headline and heartbreak that had led him to this bed. He could live on this moment alone, replay it behind closed eyes for years, and never feel deprived.
He stayed hovering above him, drinking in every detail, letting the silence stretch soft and heavy between them.
“Hey, Jon,” Siren said finally, voice rough and wrecked, scraped from the moans Jon had pulled out of him. He opened his eyes, silver irises still hazy with aftershocks, pupils blown wide, and fixed them on Jon with lazy, predatory intent. A slow, sated smile curved his swollen lips as he took in the sight of Jon hovering above him.
“Why the hell are you still wearing those jeans?” Siren rasped. One pale hand drifted down Jon’s bare flank, nails grazing lightly over heated skin before settling possessively on the waistband. “Take them off.”
His gaze dropped pointedly to the thick, straining ridge behind denim, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip as if already tasting what was promised. “I want that super cock next.”
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