“Clean me up,” Viktor ordered, voice low and dangerous, hand fisting in my hair, guiding my mouth to his chest, his abs, his throat. I lapped up every drop, licking him clean, moaning into his skin, tracing every bruise, every mark, every scar. My tongue found his nipple, swirling around it, nipping and sucking, mouth worshipping the place where my cum had landed.
Viktor’s hands never stopped moving, stroking my back, tracing the sweat on my spine, pulling me tighter against him. “Such a good boy,” he murmured, voice half-praise, half-possession. “You take everything I give. You give me everything I want. Fuck, Sebastian, you’re perfect.”
His cock softened inside me, but I kept grinding down, loving the feeling of him, of being so full, so messy, so completely claimed. Cum dripped from my hole, pooling beneath us, leaking down my thighs. Viktor watched, transfixed, hunger still burning in his gaze.
Grinding down onto Viktor’s spent cock, I drew out the fullness for as long as I could, body trembling with every little shift, the ache of being stretched and used a raw, golden burn through my core. Every motion pressed out more of his cum, slicking my thighs,marking me as his in the mess and heat of the sheets. Viktor’s arms circled my waist, pulling me tight, hands gliding up and down my back, gentle after the storm.
I stayed straddling him, refusing to let him slip out, greedily savoring every last throb, every aftershock of pleasure and pain, as if keeping him inside might keep the world at bay. My ass clenched, holding him in, loving the way his softening cock twitched and throbbed with each heartbeat. Every little movement made him sigh, made me gasp, the possessive weight of his hands never leaving my hips.
“Stay,” I murmured, barely more than a breath. “Want you inside me all night.”
A low, broken sound escaped him—a sound that meant surrender, devotion, need. Viktor rolled us gently, careful not to break the connection, and drew me down into his arms, chest to chest, cock still buried in my ass. Our bodies tangled, sweat and spit and cum cooling between us, the scent of sex thick in the dark.
His hand threaded into my hair, thumb stroking the side of my face, worshipful even in the aftermath. His heartbeat thundered beneath my palm, a slow, heavy rhythm that steadied me more than anything ever had.
Time stilled in the hush of the room. The frantic ache was gone, replaced by something softer and more dangerous—peace, belonging, a sense of finally, finally being seen.
“This changes everything,” he said quietly, voice barely a rumble against my hair.
“I know.”
“I cannot protect you properly if I am compromised.”
“You’re already compromised. Have been since the workshop.”
A tired huff, half laughter, half grief. “I know.” His arm tightened around me. “This is problem.”
“Or it’s the first honest thing either of us has done in years.”
Silence stretched, heavy with truth and possibility.
He let it hang, then said, “I am still coming with you. When you hunt. This is not negotiable.”
“I know.” My face pressed into his chest, drinking in the scent of us, of him, the comfort as necessary as air. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me. I am not doing this for you. I am doing this because I cannot watch you die.”
“Same thing.”
“No. Is not.” But his voice gentled. “Is selfish. Is me choosing my own peace over your independence.”
“I’ll take it.” I squeezed tighter, the last of my resistance dissolving into the heat between us.
We lay there in the silence as dawn started to pale the windows. Neither of us sleeping. Both of us knowing that everything had changed. That we’d crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.
16
THE QUIET BEFORE THE FALL
SEBASTIAN
Istood in the palace gardens, pretending to review security protocols with Viktor while Apollo sprawled at my feet in a patch of warm light. The air smelled like roses and fresh-cut grass and something else. Something that might have been hope if I let myself believe in it.
Five days since everything changed. Since I broke open in front of him. Since he kissed me like I was something worth saving. Since we crossed every line that should have kept us separate.
Five days of stolen glances and careful distance in public. Five days of learning how to look at him without letting everyone see what I felt. Five days of wanting him so badly my chest ached with it.
And somehow, impossibly, five days of feeling lighter than I had in eighteen years.
